--Abraham Lincoln
There is a knock at everyone's door at 2:30 am Amber Standard Time.
Gram, the tall privy secretary to the King is at your door. The tall older man still in royal livery is handing you an envelope with the Seal of Oberon's signet ring on opening.
"His Majesty asked me to deliver this note to you." he says bowing his head and then departing.
When you open the note....
"Would you be so good as to come down to the Strabo Room on the Fourth Floor at the third hour of the night. I have included a small map so the ingenuous do not become lost. You need not wear fancy apparel as you do not want to appear conspicuous."
"Oberon"
(The hallways are always magically lit with torches providing back up. The torches are 8' in the ten feet hallways so was no danger of Kelric even knocking into them. As well, there are guards stationed at each stairway on each floor but they recognize each of you and politely nod. They are dressed in the livery of the Royal Household Guard. One of Oberon's Regiments in evergreen serges that evoke an image of a more ulititarian 1800 uniform with the gold decorations and what could be kelvar or some magic material underneath. They are carrying swords and one of each pair has a crossbow.)
Laszlo attends, ornate rapier hanging from his hip and spurs still jangling at his heels.
Precisely half an hour later, Rory enters the Strabo Room. He is freshly shaven. His simple gray tunic and black trousers look like they've just returned from the cleaner's instead of the inside of a sea chest, and his boots have the hint of a shine to them. Several useful bits of sharpened steel are located here and there on his person, and there's a small valise in his hand.He's humming absently as he enters the room. In short, he looks as if he's just arisen late, taken a good hour or so with his morning ablution, had a leisurely breakfast, and packed for a little trip befire deciding to stroll down to the Strabo, perhaps with a short morning constitutional along the way.
"Greetings," he says crisply.
"'Evenin' mate," Bishop replied with a half grin as he entered. He wore a purple shirt, black jeans, and black cloak with and alligator skin boots. He looked a bit tired, but fresh. He had no apparent weapons on his person.
Bishop nodded to Laszlo and noticed the spurs.
Zariya arrives, looking fairly impassive though a touch of curiousness peeks out around the edges of her features as she strides in. She in dressed in a decidedly Arabic-flavoured outfit, most like her normal type of wear. A loose white tunic is belted with a dark green sash or belt, off of which hangs a scimitar. A smattering of embroidery here and there can be seen upon the sleeves of the tunic, which is gathered at her wrists neatly. Her tan breeches are loose as well, and gathered at the top of her nearly knee high boots. The boots seemed to be padded, and make only a minimal amount of noise as she walks. A tan cloak is thrown over her shoulders, the hood of which is down so as not to obscure her features. Her hair hangs in a tight braid, hanging easily past her shoulder blades. She wears no jewelry nor make-up, and seems as alert as a person can possibly be after only a couple hours of rest.
She does, however, incline her head in greetings to the people who have already arrived.
Rory is there with a carafe of coffee as well as a vessel with a pestel on it.
Oberon has a flagon with a dragon on it.
Laszlo has no beverage.
Bishop looks like he just arrived and there is a small green imp running to see what his beverage needs are.
Oberon smiles to Zariya,"Hello grand daughter, welcome to our gathering."
Zariya gives Oberon a rather deep and formal bow. "A pleasure to see you again, Shahinshah," she murmurs. When she straightens again, she inspects the others that have arrived before her. She nods her head to Bishop in greeting.
"Gesundheit," Rory says, looking up from his project of mixing beverages in rather exact quantities. The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. "You should have that looked after."
Zariya gives him a decidedly cool look, "If your little sword is as sharp as your little wit, you should participate in more duels. I, for one, would be glad of the amusement."
"A duel?" Rory asks, evidently amazed by the entire concept. "You actually do that sort of thing?"
Oberon grins at him,"I think she could whip you ass, grandson and hand it to you on a platter. She is good." he chuckles.
Zariya smiles with genuine pleasure at the compliment. She turns to Oberon, "Thank you." Which gives the opportunity for Rory to continue on...
His facial expression is akin to that of an anthropologist who has just stumbled upon a new and fascinating social ritual.
"I mean, why? I've always had certain amazed, incredulous fascination about the whole concept, though I've never had the chance to ask someone who actually *does* this sort of ting. I mean," he pulls out a piece of paper and begins scribbling out his concept of the paradox of duelling, "only someone who is stupid or suicidal would propose a fight to the death when they're not sure of winning. Therefore, whoever receives the challenge has to assume that the challenger is capable of reducing him to dogfood. Given that, I once more feel compelled to ask, why?"
"Rory, you are starting to sound like Kelric." Oberon sighs,"It is a great way to keep competition in arms going and encourages excellence in swordsmanship."
"Not only that," say Zariya, "but rarely are duels to the death. Normally to first blood, or when the loser knows he is beaten. Only barbarians kill when there is no reason to."
"Ah, but one man's barbarian is another's hero. It just depends on which side of the barricade you are standing." Laszlo adds helpfully.
As you reach the Strabo Room, there is a large "H" shaped desk in the centre of the room. There is a large leather executive chair in a dark red burgundy colouring. On the other side of the "H" is a smaller chair.
Along the walls on one side is a large shelf filled with scolls rolled up in racks. The scrolls are old and are made of parchment. On the other wall is a series of sliding closet like doors.
There is a giant map on one of them of the map of Ardor with the kingdoms and territories marked therein.
Oberon has placed coloured plastic thumbtacks on Arcadia Island, Port Hathor, Sural, capital of the Tanturaki Empire, Dush, capital of Dushera in red, yellow and blue respectively. Green tacks mark out the Horns of Hathor where there are Rolandae bases on each side.
The other closet door has a map of the Amber home continent. You see a few darts tossed around Soissons, the capital of the Mayor of the Palace of the Kolvirii.
The third wall has a large fireplace. There has been some burning of papers in it.The fireplace is flagstone and the floors are hardwood strips of oak. There is a large rug in the centre of a red tabriz. Along the other parts of the wall are paintings of Oberon and his many wives.
The fourth wall has additional scroll maps of Ardor which show its political boundaries at many times in Amber history. A quick glance tells a looker that Arcadia Island was once much larger and the shores of Ardor stretched out much further out to sea at one time. There were other names in a more Tharii tongue including Bancesville, Suhuyville, Swayvilleville (as stupid as it sounds), Corneliusville, Dworkinville, Maudville. (These cities arenot visible on new maps nor are the names. It is assumed they are destroyed or abandoned over the millenia.)
There are several tables with maps on them of Ardor as well as several books on geography and history and poltiics and trade in the region. Many pages have book marks, sticky notes, and dog ears plainly visible.
Oberon is wearing a wide green mantle with the castle battlement design around the neck that is medium sleeve in length exposing his wide thick forearms. He has on a wristwatch that is circa 1940's Rolex and is windup. One his right wrist is a bracer that is heavy and studded. He is wearing light black shoes wth pointed tips and matching hose. His reddish hair is flaming in the light reflected from the fire though its shade varies as he wanders into light mathcing daylight, moonlight, starlight, candlelight from the varying lamps.
One open book is visible to read about the politics and customs of the Silvan in moonlight, though under candlelight it reverts to a child's primer on Dick and Jane.
Alexis walks in right after Rory, in a long sleeved high necked tee shirt, stretchy slacks and rubber soled flat slippers. All in black. A buttondown shirt with front open and cuffs rolled up to mid arm, also in black; and carrying a small duffle. At her waist is a rapier, of plain make and scabbard, handlegrip looking well used. She looks around at the others and finds a place to sit quietly, mindful of her sword.
Oberon is sitting with Rory, Zariya, Bishop and Laszlo.
Oberon looks at her,"Are you feeling better?" he asks her,"It may be too early to say it is a full cure. That was a wicked poison."
"Yes, your Majesty, I am feeling much better. Thank you." Alexis says quietly.
"Gerard says that it was native to Amber. Luckily Rolandae's bases keep antidotes to everything imaginable. Can't think why." Oberon mutters.
"Just the books presented to me after that meeting, Your Majesty." Alexis replies. "And the clothes provided me for court. The rest of the things I was around were the things brought from ho...Wayne Manor."
"I am concerned about the breach in security." Oberon says visibly upset,"Poisons are not normally able to get into the castle. Chaos has been using them to kill each other off for years."
Alexis sighs slightly. "My foster father...was a very good criminologist. Unfortunately I am a long ways from his lab and equipment..." she mutters very quietly. Looking up. "Of course I am willing to help with the investigation in any way possible." she adds, "Your Majesty." politely.
"I should hope so." Oberon mutters,"However that is not your primary consideration. The Court of Ardor may be reconstituting and up to their black old tricks again."
"Occasions like this," says Rory, putting down his glass, "are the reason for pogroms and other delightful means of mass retribution." He thinks about it for a few seconds. "We could always do some slave raids. I've got some building projects in mind, and a few shipfuls of slaves would keep my overhead down."
"No slaving to members of the Golden Circle States," Oberon says,"Or from them. And Slavery is outlawed in Amber and my subject states."
"However," Oberon adds,"If you do it with shadows to shadows and do not sell certain types that would upset my Chaos racist relatives, then it is at your own risk. My navy will not protect slavers."
"Plus I get my taxes." Oberon says,"And if you do it outside of Paolo's zone, then Suhuy will get a cut."
Alexis gives Rory a withering gaze, of the sort that any lesser of a mortal would be dust blowing away. She then looks away, and it's obvious that's methane in the block on that shoulder...
Zariya also gives Rory a cold, disdainful look, the sort one might give a bug before one steps on it.
Rory takes a sip of the concoction he has mixed, seemingly oblivious to the stares. He continues expounding on the (to him) marvelous economic consequences of slave raids.
"I mean, really, it's a great proposition. Now the economics of actually buying slaves is a bit more problematical, because it's a huge capital expense. But if you capture them yourself in the course of some larger action - preferably one that someone is paying you to do, like, say a war - they're not only free, you've been paid to take them."
"From that point the possibilities are endless. You can use them for projects you want to keep secret, because when you kill them all afterwards, you're not out a penny. Or draining malarial swamps - expendable labor, and you can make people you don't like supervise them, and once again, it's really immaterial how many people get sick and croak. Hell, if you don't have any use for them, you can always just SELL the silly buggers and make a nice profit."
"I just prefer killing them." Oberon remarks, "That way when liberal regimes take over your kingdom does not need to pay reparations and make apologies. Did you know that Finndo actually APOLOGIZED for all of my actions and wars against Chaos.
"What a dumb ass."
"How about you take a long walk on a short pier over ravenous shark infested waters after you flagellate yourself with barbed wire." Alexis says coldly. "Your dental work can still be airmailed into next month and you into last week. Or in other words, shut up."
Oberon looks to Bishop and Laszlo,"Being poisoned must make people grouchy."
"No wonder Chaosites act like they have Osric's 1930's mercedes stuck up their -." Oberon chuckles,"They poison each other all the time."
Once most of the others have arrived, Mara quietly walks in wearing a floor length black silk jacquard dressing gown wrapped around her, feet in black slippers. She nods to the others as she enters and takes a seat near the front of the room. She glances around for something resembling a coffee or tea service.
Oberon sees her and smiles,"Hello Mara, now if I can get a servant to wake up that lazy George."
"What?" Rory asks, looking around the table. "What'd I say?"
"Nothing,"Oberon interrupts again,"Let me say that you all will be working with each other and depending on each other. You can throw each other in the shark infested sea on your spare time or play JJ Mayhew with pliers."
Oberon chuckles,"What an amateur." almost as a side thought.
Alexis is now studiously ignoring Rory, her attention on Oberon, and the coffee cup is being heavily drained.
"However children," Oberon says flatly,"You will work together with each other when you are in Ardor because if the Court is anything what it was when I was young, they are good at their tricks and are pretty ruthless. They do not have the same sentimentalities that you would find in Chaos."
"They would ship you back to me, with your skin flayed, eyes gouged, organs missing and barely alive in brine water." Oberon states flatly,"And you would be a lucky one."
Zariya gives Oberon a bow, "As you say, Shahinshah." She straightens again, and dismisses her annoyance, as if it never existed...except for a sidelong look at Rory.
"Now as soon as George crawls out of bed, we can soon begin the plans for the expeditions into Ardor." Oberon says,"And I did say expeditions. Plural."
"This series of missions will be a long term commitment. The root behind many of the problems has not been eradicated by me, by my children, by the Kolvirii, nor by even the all powerful,"Oberon derisively chuckles,"Bances Amblerash."
Alexis nods her head. "Your Majesty, I never said I would not pull together with the team, but His Grace (glare at Rory) there better learn to button a lip more often." She sighs. "What does intel have on this place?" she inquires politely.
"Lots. I am waiting for George to get his ass in here before I begin,"Oberon says, using a telekenetic spell to drag the imp back,"Danny, more Kool Aid. Make it strawberry this time.
While Danny is doing Oberon's bidding, Oberon is playfully spelling a jester outfit on him.
Then he looks up,"Ardor is an ancient continent. Distant relatives of ours. Kovliris who married elves lived there." Oberon begins. "The elves came from the same place Mirienna and Xanthus came from."
George will walk in smelling of cigar smoke and still dressed from the day before, caring a big stein filled with some green beverage.
"Nice of you to come and join us," Oberon says sarcastically,"Next time, I summon you, I will have the guard askXanthus to have an ice storm in your quarters."
This text is copyright © the players and GM of Equinox; "Amber" is copyright © Roger Zelazny; "Amber" the diceless RPG is copyright © Phage Press. No copyright infringement is intended.
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