The Transport Continues

Aisling lets Ossian sulk a while before tentatively broaching a new subject. "I am told you were a student of Brand...?"

"He was my teacher, yes." Ossian goes on the defence; "that simple fact has earned me much mistrust those five years.

"That he was my teacher does not mean I agree with all of his views.

"Still, it's a bit sad that he is gone."

Aisling tilts her head in partial agreement. "It is sad that he became a thing that it was necessary to kill," she offers with some sympathy.

"He left a son, you must have heard... Brennan fought with us at the last battle, and wants it made clear that he has not a single regret that his father is no more." She shrugs. "It may be that his path will be easier than yours. Who was it that you feared to see at the other end of this contact?"

[We have not specified if things said are said out loud, or just mindspeak, however the below sentence is definitely mind-speak.]

"Feared? No." this is said without pride. "Let's say that I and cousin Jerod have had some disagreements regarding Trumps. Haveing to do this with him could have been uncomfortable."

[I think it would have been via normal speech, so far. I also think we've been using // instead of " over on the Chaosside to signify mental talking.]

Aisling is a bit surprised at the new method of communication, but takes to it tentatively. //Trumps?// she asks, looking for further information.

When he shows no sign of having heard her, she makes a face at the failure of the mental talking to work from both parties, and tries again, "Trumps?"

Ossian raises an eyebrow, probably wondering why she makes that face.

//Yeah. He fears that I am going to paint a Trump of him and then kill him through it.// Ossian feels bitter. //Let's say he didn't trust me in the first place.//

Interest and diplomacy lead Aisling to change the subject. "You are an artist of Trumps?" she asks, curiously.

"Brand taught me how to paint them. I see them more as an extension of normal paintings, than anything else. More pieces of art than tools. So artist would be an adequate word, yes.

"Of course Trumps are useful too."

She smiles a small smirk at the understatement. "Oh my yes," she agrees, in the same vein, then goes back to the other statement, "Did Brand teach you to talk via Trump without your voice, too, or does that just come from being a Trump artist? I can't seem to manage it."

"To me it came naturally after working with Trumps for several years. When Brand first talked to me through the Trumps without using his voice, I could answer him in the same way.

"I don't remember when was the first time he spoke with his mind to me through the Trumps, but it was definitely not in the first years. Actually I never thought much about it. But now I see you must have some training to do it. You need to know how the Trumps work. And then I don't mean in an intellectual way."

Aisling nods in understanding. "Yes, there is no substitute for gut-felt experience."

he steps back towards an earlier topic, "If you were with Brand for many years, you must have seen both sides of him...?" Her violet eyes hold curiousity. She herself has barely even glimpsed the man.

"Both? I daresay he has more sides than that. And no, I didn't see all of them. You see, he came and went rather much, staying with me for a few hours, or a few days at a time. And those occasions were often far apart."

"Now afterwards I put together two and two and see some of his madness in what he said to me. But generally I think he did not show me that shade of himself."

"Did you ever meet any others of his family before you came to Amber?" Aisling cocks her head.

"No. That's one of the reasons I went to Amber; to see the rest of the family. And to see Brand again, of course. It turned out rather different than I expected."

Aisling nods in commiseration. "So, what has been happening in Amber these five years past?"

"That could be a long story. Do you want the true story or the good story?" Ossian asks. Aisling is pretty sure Ossian does not try to joke.

Aisling actually has to think about this for several moments. "Give me the good story first," she decides, "And I will see what I can glean from it..." She grins.

"Ah. I hoped you would be sensible. Seems you are." Ossian says, giving Aisling an appreciating look, smiling.

This is the story Ossian tells Aisling. Ossian changes his voice somewhat, to indicate that it really is a story, and not the truth.

Aisling listens to the story with practiced attention, and does not interrupt, for she wishes to see how Ossian spins the art. For all that she absorbs every word, her mind is not idle, but constantly assessing the information given...

"A few years back (or days, some say) the king of Amber was named Oberon. As long as anyone could remember he had ruled in the city of cities. Among Oberon's children, and he had a lot, there was always strife and scheming. So deep went the hatred between some of the princes that they even tried to kill each other, or gathered armies in other worlds to send them into Amber when the King was away.

"In the end one of the princes sided against Amber with the demons of chaos, ancient enemies of Amber. This prince, Brand, was a very good artist, and among the most well-versed in Amber's secret arts. He was a genius, and stark mad. He tried to erase the Pattern, the sacred powersource in the cellars of castle Amber, to rewrite it after his own fashion. Luckily he only managed to damage it.

"When the other children of Oberon found out what Brand had tried to do, they gathered the armies of Amber and all her allies and departed to fight Brand on his hometurf at the Courts of Chaos. Meanwhile King Oberon would try to repstore the damaged Pattern. Left in Amber was only one of the Princes, Gerard, who was appointed Regent during the crisis. Also in Amber where some of the grandchildren of Oberon; Cambina, who was a seeress and her brother Jerod who was forceful and strong, but also a suspicious bully."

Aisling can't help but smile at this.

"Vere, a quiet, but wise young man and his sister Solange who is more like their father Gerard, firm and calm. There was also Lucas, who cared more about bedding women and wearing fashionable clothes than anything else.

"One day soon after the army had departed a young man appeared at the gates of Amber. He said his name was Ossian and that he was looking for Prince Brand. Though noone, not even Ossian himself, could tell his parentage it was plain that he was a grandchild of Oberon's. Naturally the other Amberites were very suspicious of the newcomer, especially since he claimed to be Brand's student.

"That same night a tremendous earthquake shook the city, houses and towers fell, even the castle shook. Everyone inside the castle tried to get out, but most people were still inside when the ceiling on the ground floor started to cave in. Prince Gerard, who was the strongest of Oberon's sons, that is enormously strong placed his feet wide apart and kept the ceiling in place with his strong arms.

"Gerard stood there firm as a stone pillar until everyone else got out, but he could not save himself, as the castle finally collapsed over him. The sorrow was great, and there was no Regent in the City. In the morning more of King Oberon's grandchildren arrived; Martin, son of Random, Paige, an entrancingly beautyful lady, whose previous occupation shold go unmentioned and Folly, a great musician.

"The royals formed a council to rule the city, but as there had been strife among their parents also among the young generation there was strife. Martin claimed that king Oberon must be dead, but the council could not decide who should be the new king, or even the new Regent, so the city was ruled by a split council. Jerod would not trust Ossian, who he suspected was a traitor, and Ossian did nothing to stop that distrust. Paige tried to unify the council, but also had her fallouts with Martin and Jerod. Gerard's children however, remained calm, despite the loss of their father. The people of the city was on the brink of revolution, and critism of the ruling council was abundant.

"The council soon found out that Amber's position among the worlds had been lost; all old trade routes were broken, the Pattern had lost its magical powers. The Trumps, the magical cards that the royals used for communication did not work either anymore. Prophets claimed that the city would go under in five years time. The council, however, did not listen to the prophets, but strived hard to rebuild the city.

"All the royals tried to establish new trade routes, but their attempts were feeble, their knowledge of the old powers not profound enough. The castle was rebuilt, with a new design provided by Ossian. Folly and others tried to make life easier for the poor people of the city, and Jerod and Lucas strived ever with the trade routes. But the city slowly lost its glamour and wealth.

"As the years trickled by more grandchildren of Oberon arrived in the city; Reid, elder than most of the king's children, Brita, a young woman who took charge of the forest Arden and the warriors therein, Robin who had been in charge of that forest before and Conner who arrived from the land under the sea. And the prophesy gnawed at the back of the minds of the wise."

Until about this point, Aisling is holding out hope for the triumphant return of Gerard.

Well, Ossian is fond of tragedy, it seems.

"In the end Jerod claimed he had found a way to open the trade routes again, and he and Solange departed on a long expedition. At the same time people started leaving Amber, the city slowly bled away.

"One year later Jerod and Solange came back with a whole fleet, apparently consisting of merchant ships. And the fleet anchored in Amber harbour and did not depart again, even if the unrest grew among the sailors. The military capacity of the fleet was indeed great, even greater that that of Amber in its weakened state. Some say Jerod had gathered this fleet to get an armed force to gain the throne with, some say it was actually only merchants. However, as the fleet's stay was prolonged the merchants (or whatever they were) became restive and weary."

This section makes Aisling-the-analyst unhappy, though Aisling-the-listener is of course listening.

"Then one day word arrived that the army, that had departed to fight Prince Brand had been victorious. Some days later the Trumps started to work again, and the royals began to bring the army home through them. Some say that the royals had simply forgotten to tell the merchant fleet of the arrival of the army, some say that the information was withheld by one of the royals. So when the army started to gather in Amber, the "merchants" thought they were being attacked, and launched a counter-attack. The whole city became a battlefield, towers and walls fell. The castle was burned, as Ossians graceful construction was not built to withstand an assault. In the end the returning army of Amber was victorious, but the city was no more."

Aisling's absorption in the story is evident in that the first question she asks, when the pause indicates the story is over, is in an incredulous tone, "You didn't build the castle of -Amber- to withstand an assault?!"

"I wouldn't, no. Or maybe I would, but it would sadly put many boring restrictions on the design. The story Ossian definitely wouldn't take defense into account, of course." Ossian shrugs. Does he despise reality?

Ossian seems generally pleased with Aislings reception of the story.

Aisling chuckles, shaking her head, accepting that she was too hot off the mark. Then, after turning things over in her mind for a bit, she asks, "The Pattern has lost its magic? It does not seem true that Oberon died in vain, for the world still endures..."

Ossian realises he maybe should not speak too loud about this. //The Pattern in the castle dungeon is cracked.//

Aisling gets a baffled look at this. Patterns don't just crack...

//Maybe the Tir, or Rebma one is still ok.//

"Of course he did not die in vain. But we have to acknowledge the possibility that something else is holding the universe together."

Aisling, taking his cue from the mindtalking, and busy with soldiers besides, subsides for the nonce, thinking things over. One result of this is that she compliments him with a smile, "A well-wrought tale."

"Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it." Ossian says "Stories like this are kind of perishable art, which is fortunate in some way, because you cannot study them twice and so see all imperfections."

"Everything is perishable," Aisling comments without thinking, and then smiles at him. "My memory of the story, however, remains to be studied, and few imperfections show in it."

"Memory is like a painting. You are lucky if you remember things somewhat idealised rather than somewhat caricaturised." Ossian lets a one-eyed soldier through. "Then of course, what constitutes an imperfection varies with your taste."

"Indeed," Aisling agrees, and lets the conversation rest there unless Ossian has more to bring up.

Jovian and the dragonriders will have to move out on their own, and probably should before people start moving through. (Mark, you can start that thread.)

Everybody else will end up back in Arden, available to start conversations.

Reid stays a bit longer in Ygg to create a location trump. Never know when it might come in handy. He'll return to Amber via trump to Brita in a week or so, or however long it takes him to do it right.

How long do you spend on it? You have no initial success, as if the normal hooks and events that make a place a location don't really exist, or don't take this kind of connection. You just can't seem to get a location trump to work and you know this pretty close to immediately.

You can stay and try for longer, but it seems like fruitless labor.

Somehow I expected the tree itself to be more static than chaotic, since it's the last bastion of order, or some such. At least, that's what Reid was led to believe.

Reid does not believe that this is necessarily the problem. The landscape around the tree seems to resist artistic definition, and it is necessary to include some of it to make a usable Trump.

Due to its proximity to chaos, Reid will spend twice as long as he normally would to get a "good start" before giving up.

Funny, Brennan was meaning to mention that Bleys, too. If Reid sticks around and does something in Brennan's presence that obviously indicates that he's going to draw a Trump of the place, Brennan expresses interest-- both in the Trump creation process and in the idea of the Trump at Ygg.

GMs say: "That's useful. Now we don't have to worry about who Reid will talk to!"

Brennan had also been meaning to mention the idea to Bleys of a base or outpost somewhere in the vicinity-- that would provide the right opportunity.

"Capital. You can suggest it to the King," says Bleys.

As per a previous private comment to the GMs, Jerod will make himself quite useful in the trump process, and will undertake actions to ensure that the transport goes off smoothly. But he does not immediately return to Arden, instead remaining as one of the very last people to go.

And once that happens, he just wanders off to find that horse he knows is going to show up, cause he's got somewhere to go.

[Adonis]
If it's a mare answering to the name 'Epona', please return it to the rightful owner when you've finished with it. :-)

Just as a point, although she hasn't passed the news on yet, the GMs assume that Solange will tell everyone that Random expects everybody at dinner. This may change also change Brennan's and Reid's plans.

Solange does. She takes a certain glee in using His Majesty's exact wording, and attributing it to him. This probably does not endear her any to her Uncle Julian, but oh well.

Would Jerod hear about it directly? Since Solange is in Arden, and Jerod's not in immediate contact with them, that would probably mean that someone else would pipe it up to the group in general?

(yeah, yeah, I know...technicalities and all...:)...it's called Plausible Deniability...Oberon was famous for it...so was Dad...).

Depends on who ends up where. But Martin, when he hears about it, will certainly do his part to spread the word. Dutiful son and all that, plus why should anyone else get to skip out on Mandatory Fun when he has to go? ;)

Yeah...dutiful son and all...but thankfully Jerod can blame his momentary aberrant behaviour on Martin's background...well, maybe he wouldn't go so far as to say "blame"...more like..."was influenced by"...

In any event, unless one of the Uncles is standing right there and looking to drag Jerod back (and I don't foresee Corwin or Bleys to be anywhere near interested enough even in looking in Jerod's direction for that to happen), he's going to give his plan a try.

Well, if your purpose isn't nefarious, Brennan has an ornery and ever-so-very-slightly subversive streak. You could ask him to run interference for you.

And under normal circumstances, Jerod would possibly take him up on it...Jerod's purposes are rarely nefarious (at least, nothing that his cousins have ever figured out...:)...though to some of the nobility of Amber his purposes can seem cruel, harsh and totally heavy- handed. But then again, they had it coming.

However, since Jerod doesn't know Brennan well enough to detect that side of his personality...we'll have to pass for the moment. If things continue though, maybe we'll take him up on that offer later.

Jerod remains, Reid remains, Brennan remains (for some, but perhaps not all of the time Reid remains).

Reid gives up. If Brennan is still around when Reid calls it quits, he offers Brennan a way home via trump. He guesses that Jerod has gone to do what Jerod has gone to do.

Either alone, or with Brennan, Reid contacts Brita and returns to the Arden camp where he'll observe the hustle & bustle a bit before riding back to Amber.

Good plan. However, you will find that Heather Vale is deep in the zillion acre wood with no paths, and more than a day's hard ride from Amber for, for instance, a well trained Ranger. Take the 'T' Train instead.

A night in the city for music and sleep in the solitude of his own room would be good after the number of people he's dealt with today.

If Random's dinner party is TONIGHT tonight, he'll be there. Though to be honest, with Jovian with the dragons in shadow, and our people still needed in Arden to supervise things and oversee the wounded, he expects it will be a week before EVERYONE can gather.

No one to whom you spoke indicated that it was any other tonight than tonight. We shall definitely see how he reacts to missing nephews...

For the record: Ossian will take a short trip to Ygg when the army has passed through, out of curiosity. Well, long enough to make a sketch of the Tree. (Not a Trump sketch...)

Jerod walks over a hill while Reid works at trumpmaking. Over the hill he sees a roan mare with a starburst blaze on her chest. She is saddled and ready to go. Corwin is holding her head. He turns towards you.

"Hello, Jerod. It seems I've lost a bet with your sister. I thought that Brennan wanted the horse."

"My sister is quite adept at foreseeing the future uncle." Jerod says as he approaches, not surprised at Cambina's actions (she was the one factor he could not control, though he suspected something might happen). "You'd be wise never to play poker against her."

"Traditionally the girls haven't been invited to the family poker game."

"Yeah. Then the girls went and started their own poker games." Jerod replies. "Times are changing it would seem."

He stops next to Corwin, looking at the roan for a moment before stroking it's head. He does not attempt to take the horse away from Corwin. "I've got something that I need to do. I've been waiting a while now and this is the most appropriate opportunity to do so, since everyone's coming home. May I have my horse?"

"You know about time out here? And that Random expects us for a family gathering this evening?"

"I'm aware of that." Jerod says. "I won't lie to you by saying I'll be back for dinner. I'm hoping I will be, and I will make the effort - there's a chance I won't be though. But I've been waiting five years to help someone who's been too stubborn, and maybe too noble, for his own good, to let his family help him. The timing was never right. Now it is."

Jerod smiles a little. "Besides, I doubt seriously if I would contribute anything important at the gathering. Or be missed." and he holds out his hand, waiting to take the reins, and for Corwin's response.

Corwin says, "I don't think Random is looking for contributions. It might be a very bad dinner to miss, if the king decides you're unreliable. But that's neither here nor there. If you can explain to me what you're looking for, and why, I might be able to help. Or at least explain to Random what you're doing."

Jerod looks at Corwin for a second, then commits himself. Like his father, he knows a decision is better than procrastination. And if the decision is a good one, so much the better.

"Gerard was badly injured during the Sundering. We had an earthquake and he was trapped in the cellars when they collapsed. His pelvic bones were crushed and he's been confined to a wheelchair for the last five years." Jerod says.

Corwin looks shocked. This is clearly news to him. He remains silent through the rest of the recital.

"Because of that, Gerard had to rely on a council of family to help him rule. We all took on various roles based on our backgrounds. I got some of the more unpleasant dealings with the nobility, as well as some of the more important dealings. In that regard, Gerard relied on me more perhaps than others. He trusted me with some very difficult situations when others probably wouldn't have. I want to pay that back now."

"When everyone gets back, there are going to be a hundred things that need doing to keep Amber going. And everything that I can do can be done by someone else, and perhaps better in some cases. So I'm going to be a fifth wheel. But I know I can find stuff. With shadow as screwed up as it is, we won't be able to rely on our old knowledge of where things were. We'll have to explore, since the old trade paths are gone now. And to do that, someone has to have good skill with shadow. They have to be able to fight when the occasion rises, and negotiate the rest of the time. I can do all that. So can my uncles. But Random will need them to help lay new trade routes, to rebuild the fleet, to find our old allies and to keep the nobility under control when the old factions decide to flex their muscles again."

"And while all that gets done, Gerard waits. He might try on his own, with the help of his children, but they're not as good at searching as I am. It'll take longer, and they could fail. And Gerard deserves better than failure."

After explaining the situation, Jerod continues. "That's why I'm doing what I'm doing. He needs the help and its about time he got it. It's going to take some work, and this is only the first step. I might not succeed, but I've got to try."

Corwin is quiet for a long time after this, clearly pondering the next step. "Gerard has as much medical training as any of us; what does he say? Have you consulted with anyone else about what to do for him? What exactly are you looking for as a first step, and how do you hope to use it to help Gerard?"

"Uncle Gerard is too noble for his own good." Jerod replies, though there is no spite in his tone, perhaps more a bit of admiration. "He forbid us to engage in a search for a treatment for him. He said, and I agreed at the time, that the people needed us more. And he was right. Times were lean there for awhile. I had to make some enemies amongst the nobles putting down a food hoarding problem.

"Gerard was uncertain as to a course of medical treatment. Many have brought up ideas ranging from magic to biotechnology. It's been bounced around so many times that people seem to be in committee mode, waiting for an idea to come up rather than taking action.

"The one concern that was brought up, and what I hope to find, is a treatment that will not be eliminated by the use of the Pattern. Magiks could work, but they are more limited than anything else and Pattern would almost certainly neutralize their effects the first time he were to walk it. My intention is to find a place where the strength of reality is very high. High enough that anything that is done to Gerard to heal him, regardless of its source, would take hold and stay. I've got a couple of ideas how to search but I'm not sure if they'll be successful. If I'm not, then it's just my time wasted and Amber's none the worse for it. But if I can do it...or even get a clue maybe."

Jerod looks at Corwin for a moment. "Out of all of us, he's the one family that everyone would rally to help. I doubt there's anyone else that can claim that. And I think you'll understand why I need to go."

"I don't disagree with your motivations, but I wonder whether you've thought through your actions and what they'll mean, how they'll be used. Random has a harder job ahead of him than most people know. On top of that, we're a fractious bunch. We hardly had the habit of obeying Dad. How are we all going to get in the habit of obeying our littlest brother?

"So it's important that we not only obey him, but that we're seen to obey him. What message will it send to the court when Eric's son abandons Random before the crown is set on his head and his backside's had a chance to warm the throne?

"And what happens if everyone thinks they can just hare off without warning? Benedict is one thing; Dad couldn't control him. But the rest of the family needs to line up behind Random, and he needs to give orders that people can obey.

"If you'll come and put in your appearance at dinner, Random will almost certainly grant your request to search for a cure for Gerard afterwards. I'll ask him myself, if he won't do it for you. And I've learned some things that might help you along recently. There are ... shortcuts ... I can show you."

Corwin is obviously trying very hard here.

Jerod's disappointment is equally evident, as is his bitterness. "I think you'll be able to keep your shortcuts uncle. I suspect that Random will not bother granting a request from a kid for something as important as this." he says. "Not when he has people who know all the shortcuts."

Jerod looks at the horse, rubs its head for a moment before tapping it on the forehead. "Off you go...I won't be needing you after all it appears." before he pulls out a trump to take himself back to Amber.

Well, contrary to popular opinion, Brennan hadn't planned to stay all that long watching Reid. Unless drawn into a conversation, I don't think Brennan would find watching someone paint or sketch to be all that interesting, nor would I think Reid would want to be watched while he does it. It's the verification that Reid and Brennan are on the same wavelength as regards a Trump of Ygg that's the actual goal.

Since this is the Good Parts Version of the story where the precise details of the Troop Trump Transfer aren't important, I'll simply note that if asked, Brennan _can_ come up with a detailed plan of who should be standing where and provide reasoning behind each one. I actually came up with one, but didn't feel like typing it all up.... That being the case, I'm going to live in the pleasant fantasy-land where everything worked more or less the way Brennan said it should with as small a level of fuss as possible under the circumstances, because he was getting restless just standing around.

Like Jerod, Brennan is probably one of the last through to the Amber side of things, making sure everyone and everything is squared away. I'll assume Brennan has word that Random wants everyone present, but that doesn't much change his plans, as he needs to talk to Random about a few things anyway. Once through to the Promised Land, Brennan looks around and does the Clark W. Griswald two-second head-bob of scenery appreciation before reaching back and pulling the ties off his ponytail and shaking his hair free. It turns out to be a thick head of hair down to somewhere closer to the small of his back than his shoulders.

In roughly this order, Brennan will do the following:

1) Check in with Caine, who will probably be very uncommunicative due to the absence of the GMs. (Have a good weekend, guys.)

2) Review the troops under his command (Little Furry Guys, Random's Light Infantry, Deirdre's Heavy Nobles, and Marius' Mayhem and Sailing Squad... and someone will have to look after Lilly's Used-to-be-Eric's Squad until she turns up again) and make sure that they're provisioned well, that they know what's expected of them (once Brennan finds that out for himself, probably from Caine, off-camera) that there are no unexpected problems to deal with, that their brevet promotions are still in place as appropriate, that no one is slacking, etc.

3) Brennan should be pretty noticeable at this point-- I gave his description, but will repeat it again on request. He looks like a younger Bleys with long hair, a stronger chin, and Brand's eyes, basically, and gives orders like he knows what he's doing. He confines those orders, unless something goes terribly wrong, to his command, though.

That's the point I'd guess when a lot of relatives on the Amber side might want to come up and talk or introduce themselves.

Brennan has met Brita via Trump. She is tall (6'2"), blond and in her element directing the settling of the various troop factions.

Huh. Brennan is not used to having to look up to women, at 6'1/2" ish. He'll have to get used to it. Now that he's seeing her in person, and in perspective, he takes a clear moment to imagine Brita standing right next to Fiona.

Brita has little of her mother in her. Perhaps a slant of the eyes or the shape of her nose....

As with his other relations, when he gets the chance to meet Brita in person, he'll offer a hand for a handshake. Since he spoke to Brita, he'll skip the introduction, though. If she takes tha hand, she'll find that he doesn't give one of those half-hearted, "Oh, I hope I don't hurt your hand, dear," handshakes that some men will give to women. As with Jerod, Martin and the others, it's not an attempt to crush her hand-- she's a relative, after all-- but it's a solid grip.

Brita readily takes his hand. Her grip is also strong and assured. She has no fears of damaging a cousin.

During the massive troop trumping process, she would have directed the gateways to move to various points at various times depending on which set of troops was coming through. The sailors are settled near the river, the LFGs have a choice spot near the tree line (Brita has taken a liking to them), etc.

As long as the bunches mentioned are fairly proximate to each other. Assume Brennan gave her a quick shakedown on what the commands look like-- Julian's group, Bleys' group, Random's group (now Brennan's), Flora's and Llewella's group, and so forth.

"The intent of the arrangements were to somewhat separate the factions with the dragons in the middle between the most contentious groups. Of course, the dragons aren't here yet...." Brita trails off in disappointment.

When approached, she greats Brennan warmly, "Cousin Brennan! It is good to have successfully completed the transport. The troops are settling in nicely." [This had better be the case or Brita will be _upset_ :)]

Brita and Brennan both....

Brita continues, "If you are concerned about the wounded, you should check in with my brother, Conner. The hospital tent is over there." and she points towards the river to a large tent.

"Yeah, let's do that. You coming with?"

"You go ahead. I will be along shortly," Brita turns back to a nearby Ranger to provide some additional directions. [Brita will arrive at the tent when Brennan is regailing Conner with the story of Breek - separate cover.]

4) Proceed directly to the field hospital, looking for wounded men under his command, especially the Little Furry Guy, Breek. He has something for him, so he'll ask after him by name.

Again, a time when people would notice him. Remember, Brennan doesn't yet have a good idea who is who, and in the absence of that, he's going to do what makes sense to him, utterly secure in the knowledge that what makes sense to him is the right thing to do at all times.

5) Probably Trump Random in there before the Banquet, or whatever, but I wouldn't expect that to get dealt with any time before next week.

Whew. Brennan is a busy little Brandspawn. Oh, and if he sees Dignity around anywhere, he's going to get help getting out of the armor.

Dignity will find him and do as bidden. (Minor NPCs like Dignity are free to be found and ordered around.)

When Brennan enters the field hospital he is met by a man with a bright smile, wearing a stained white apron over travelling garb of green and brown.

[Just a side note: I hadn't known until a week or so ago that Aisling-assisted healing leaves visible traces. That being the case, though, you'll note those on more than one of the badly-wounded who came from the dragon group... How many, I can't say, since I don't know how much time/energy she had, and some are masked by bandages, anyway. Marius, though, definitely.]

"Can I help you cousin?" Conner asks.

I guess no one wants to bother one of the Clarissi when he's giving orders. It can't be personal hygiene-- he used mouthwash and deoderant in the morning.... Assume, then, that Brennan has his command humming along nicely, settling in, and generally settling down.

By the time he's gotten to the hospital-- since there were no distractions-- he's actually got a knot of soldier, nobles, and Little Furry Guys, often referred to as LFGs, trailing behind him. A dozen, a dozen and a half total, drawn from the various groups under his command. The exception are Lilly's men, who are not drafted but allowed (by GM decree, or maybe Tara's) to volunteer, since Brennan is really expecting Lilly to be back any time, now. The men behind him are all able-bodied, not a wounded man among them.

I'm not sure how much Conner and Brennan were able to perceive of each other in that Trump link, but I'm going to assume that they can recognize each other. However, he's still going to introduce himself.

Well regardless of Brennan's state of recognition, it seems clear that Connor recognized you without hesitation.

"You're... Conner, right?"

Conner nods. "Conner Son of Fiona and at the moment head of field medicine." He smiles.

"I'm Brennan, Brand's son. And this," he gestures at the man standing to the left and slightly behind him, "Is Lord Hunter." Lord Hunter is a big, bluff man with dull, orangey hair and a ruddy complexion. He's a naturally down-to-Earth sort, even for a Noble. "These men are here to be put to work," with the understanding that Hunter is more of a supervisor type than a heavy lifting guy, "fetching supplies, helping with the wounded, organizing, and the like."

Somewhere in there, he offered his own hand in greeting.

"In about ten minutes, there's going to be another bunch headed by a wiry-looking guy named Ropes."

Conner takes Brennan's hand and shakes it firmly. "Well the hospital is fully staffed but extra hands are always welcome" He looks to Lord Hunter. "You can check in with my second Dr. Roberts there. If there is work to be done, he'll know about it."

"Good." Brennan nods to Lord Hunter, who should then dutifully (if not cheerfully) follow Conner's lead and begin pitching in.

Once the crew is beyond easy ear shot, Brennan says in a lower voice, "Good. There's a reason for all this enforced helpfulness. From our perspective, it was just a week ago that members from each of those bunches were ready to kill each other before the Chaosi. With the crisis over, I'm not going to let those rivalries come back to a head. They will keep working together."

"Thanks for your help, Conner."

Conner nods. "I thought I read your intentions aright." He smiles. "I'll keep them in trust building activities for a time."

"If that's what we want to call it. Don't go easy on Hunter just because his great grandfather impressed Oberon, either. Hunter seems a solid enough guy, but half the nobility...."

He shrugs.

He also takes the opportunity to look back at the area his men are encamped on. By now, the crews should be hard at work with the business of soldiers on bivouac-- pitching tents, digging latrines, setting up the fires for cooking dinner and suchlike. If not, someone is going to get Brennan's boot lodged somewhere unpleasant.

He doesn't take long in his glance, but it's quite unlikely that he's missed anything before he turns back to Conner.

Once that's settled and the work crew has departed or started working, and the introductions are done, Brennan says, "If this is the hospital, I think some of my men are here-- aside from a few odd cousins, like Marius and Daeon. How are they?" he asks, referring principally to his cousins. Then, "How many of my men are here? Is there a Little Furry Guy name of Breek among the living?"

"Adonnis is recovering nicely thanks to Aisling and some pugilisitic medicine." Conner smiles.

Brennan gives a lop-sided half smile in response to that. It's not entirely clear if he's smiling at the news of recovery or the news of a faux-divine smack-dwon. Probably a bit of both.

"Not my preferred way to deal with a patient but I got to see Brita's left hook." Conner smiles.

Brennan spreads his hands in as non-accusatory gesture as he knows how to make. "Hey, whatever works. Anyone get the story on that? He was unpunctured, the last time I'd seen him."

"Marius on the other hand." The smile slips. "Well physically he's stable. He's not fit to charge lightning bolts any time soon but he'll recover. He has yet to awaken, and his wounds are not severe enough to explain that. I can only assume some of the magic that blasted him worked on the mind and I have no easy way to assess that." Conner sighs.

"He was reckless enough to charge my father on the battlefield. So were Deirdre and Random. Deirdre's dead, and Random is now King." He shoot Conner a had-you-heard-the-details? look before continuing, "There's a moral in there, somewhere. Marius may be reacting to his mother's death, too-- he was up and walking around before he heard the news."

Conner muses. "Aisling didn't mention that. Well all we can do is keep an eye on him for now."

Brennan nods. "Father Dearest showed up after we'd won the day on the battlefield and threw one of his little tantrums. Random, Deirdre, and Marius charged him. I think Corwin and Fiona had something to do with it, too. And ultimately, Caine shot him... and he had already had Deirdre in his grip. They both went over the ledge of the Abyss."

It is blindingly obvious that Brennan does not consider the death of Brand to any special loss to the world.

"As for your men, I'm not sure of the final count. I've got a tent full of mostly sailors here with a scattering of nobles and one LFG that looks to be making a fine recovery."

"That would probably be Breek. Those guys are unbelievably tough for their sizes. I'll tour the rest in a bit, but I have something here for Breek. Can I see him?"

"Of course. This way." Conner nods leading him to the LFG in question.

Brennan follows, until he sees Breek. At which point, he removes the short blade that had hung at his left side, sheathe and all. "Breek!" He calls out, before remembering that he's in a hospital, and others might be inclined to try and sleep.

"Breek," he says, once he's reached the Little Furry Guy's bed, and pulled over a stool to sit on. "You gave your brother quite a scare, old man."

Looking over at Conner, he explains, "On the morning of battle, the first sally from the Chaosi that wasn't a probe or a test was... brutal. We were already tied down in hand to hand fighting against their regulars-- inasmuch as they actually had regulars, per se-- when we saw the hammer heading for us. A platoon or so of demons about twice as tall as I am, and with twice as many arms."

At this point, Brita enters the tent, spots her brother and Brennan over by that interesting little guy and joins them.

He looks back at Breek to judge his reaction, before looking back at Conner and whoever else might be around. "I'll call them that ebcause it turns out they looked remarkably like the demons out of LFG mythology." His eyes narrow and take on a dangerous glitter, "And if I ever catch up with whichever Lord of Chaos was responsible for that little stunt, we're going to have a very short chat.

"It looked like it was going to be route right in the center of the line, but Breek and his brother kept the line together until I could get there. His brother Praak took a nasty slice along the leg for his trouble, but Breek... well, you can see what it cost Breek.

"It was dicey for a good while, there. Could easily have gone the other way without Breek holding off four opponents at once until I could get there."

He looks back at Breek again, "I thought you might want this back," he says, placing the sheathed sword on the bed next to him. It looks like it's been through hell and back, but it's in one piece and still serviceable. "Your sword killed the first of those big, blue, twelve foot tall bastards."

Breek, looking as if he has been through a hellride, nonetheless manages to sit up and bow low. He does not rise and he does not take the sword. "I am the very servant of the Gods, " he says. "Who shall I kill for you with this gift, Oh Lord God Brennan?"

No he does not manage to sit up and bow low, because Brennan puts a very strong hand on his shoulder to prevent it. And if he struggles against Brennan hard enough to rip any of his stitches, then he gets what he deserves.

He'll just avert his eyes then. (ObQuote:"We're Averting Our Eyes, Oh Lord")

In response, though, Brennan sighs and fails to keep himself from rolling his eyes a little, though Breek might be in too much pain to notice it. "No one, Breek. At least not right now. At some point, though, we're going to have to have a long talk about this whole godhood business. Right now, you rest."

"I am the very servant of the Gods."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and I'm the very model of a modern major general. Now knock that stuff off!"

And from reading through the rest of the messages, it looks like Conner has wandered off to find Fiona and is thus no longer present. I'm not sure if Brita is still around or not.

I think I would assume that Conner and Brita left the tent shortly after Brennan's story (to give him time alone with the LFG). They parted company at that point with Brita saying something about going to see to how the Rangers were holding up. [see other post]

If not, though, Brennan has some other business to conclude, so he steps outside the tent, and pulls out Random's Trump to try to make a connection.

If she is, well, Brennan still has some other business to conclude, so unless she engages in a conversation, he'll excuse himself, step outside, and try to Trump Random. Except, he'll ask if there's a Trump sketch of her and if he can call on her to rejoin the Heather-fest if need be.

Thinking ahead, as Brennan has been known to do from time to time, he'd probably have mentioned his intention to report to Random, and if he wasn't holding someone's Trump sketch, would have asked for one so he could get back later.