... A bucolic rural scene was the subject of this new Trump I had painted,
though there were some oddities to it. For one, the young man depicted,
his skin olive and with more than a passing resemblence to my brother
Drake, was clad in an efficient Amberite outfit, black cloth trimmed
in silver across the chest and around the collar and cuffs of his jacket
and down the seams of his pants. For two, he was accompanied by a
large yellow bird, much taller than him, with a broad yellow beak
and long, taloned legs. For their part, the man and the bird looked
at each other with fondness -- there was a clear partnership between
the two, not master-and-servant like I had seen many other people
treat their riding steeds.
This was Larry Walkowski, and while I didn't know too much about
him, I knew that he was a good man -- his upbringing and career
as a firefighter out in Shadow was sure to bring a new perspective
to the court of Amber. And if not, his sarcasm was of a lighter
sort than of Drake's, who happened to be his biological father. ...
... This next Trump also had its share of fantastic elements
blended with the familiar. In it, a young woman, barely out
of her teens, with straight brown hair, an open honest face with
hazel eyes, and runner's legs sat in the shade of
a tree looking up into the sky, her fingers laced together atop her
raised right knee. She was clad in a shadow-schoolgirl's
uniform, a pleated brown skirt below a pale yellow blazer that
had brown-trimmed cuffs and lapels. However, behind the tree
rested a large white metal construct with hints of the
draconic about it, and in the sky beyond was the pale Moon,
partially hidden by the afternoon clouds -- as well
as the planet Earth, partially occluded by its partner.
She was a girl who had played a pivotal role in the world
she had found herself thrust into; and nowadays Hitomi Kanzaki
apparently hoped that those days were past, that she could
live out a 'normal' life, albeit tinged with the fantastic. But
I had a feeling that before too long, she would learn that those
who tried to avoid the fantastic, once exposed to it, would soon
be drawn within those circles once again. ...
... it was another new face that looked out of the next Trump card
I had painted. It was a kind, but well-weathered face, its skin
well-tanned from long weeks at sea, deep black hair with a bluish
shine unkempt over hazel eyes. The man's arms were crossed as his
eyes were locked on the horizon and what might be beyond. He was clad
in practical clothes, though they did nothing to hide the fact that
he had a body that agreed with the seafaring lifestyle. One could
almost imagine the sea spray coming from the trump, thrown aloft
by the runners of the wood-and-metal craft he rode.
This was Kai Varun, a sledman of a world known as Nandy-Cline, a world
almost totally covered with water. It bred hardy souls; but would
his upbringing serve him well in the times ahead? ...
"The trump was done all in shades of green and black, and somehow I could tell that this was not a stylistic choice on the part of the Trump artist, but a real scene somewhere in the Courts. A woman stood atop a black basalt escarpment overlooking a valley, the sky dark green and the clouds shades of grey and pale mint, casting odd shadows on the ground behind her. Her trim, fit body was clad in a green and black bodysuit in an alternating pattern, her left hand resting on her hip as her right was lifted in a gesture of triumph, or defiance. Long raven hair, piercing green eyes, and olive skin that looked almost a light green in the pale light just added to her attractiveness; but the expression on her face reminded me of a predatory cat, one who had just found a trapped mouse and was ready to play with it. Certainly, the green aura limning her lifted, clawed right hand did not reassure me in any way."
"The man sat in a large straight-backed chair, his rangy frame strewn across it, his torso slouched to his right while his left leg streched out to the side, giving the impression of one who constantly could not find a suitably-sized seat no matter how hard he tried. His clothes were dark, well-worn and loose fitting; jeans and a t-shirt partially hidden by a dark blue jacket were the order of the day. The shirt itself bore a red, black, and orange firey slash across the front as well as RUSH VAPOR TRAILS TOUR 2002 emblazoned along the flames, and the jacket bore several pins, including a red cloisenne pin in the shape of a turtle's shell that was positioned prominently over his heart. His right hand was raised and curled under the van-dyke beard that graced his chin, and a moustache only helped outline the upward curve of his smile. His dark eyes looked curiously out from behind thick-framed glasses and underneath a unkempt thatch of brown hair, ineffectively styled. At his feet, resting against the sides of the chair, were a well-worn blue backpack and sketching materials. A pencil sketch of a woman with flowing hair could barely be seen in one of the open sketchbooks -- and a silvery cylinder hung against his left hip."
Trump Cards : [Pre-Campaign]
[Through A Mirror Darkly]
[Unicorn no Seishi]
[Forth The Nine Riders]
[Related Campaigns]
Illustrations : [Pre-Campaign]
[Through A Mirror Darkly]
[Unicorn no Seishi]
[Forth The Nine Riders]
[Related Campaigns]
[Library]