... A young man who bore similarities to both Touga and Shizumaru
sat in a wooden chair at a wooden desk on the next Trump Card. His skin
was lightly tanned, like Shizumaru's, and his hair was styled somewhat
like Touga's, save that his long red hair was pulled back into a thick
ponytail by a thick silver band. He was clad in a white Gi and red
Hakama, bracelets gold at his wrists, a thin chain of gold around his
neck and a gold headband holding his hair back. He had his father's
eyes, mixed with his Grandfather's -- quietly thoughtful, yet also
calculating. He was very skilled in the arts of the sword, but even he
recognized that sometimes words were much more powerful, and I knew him
to be an accomplished poet as well. In fact, he had been caught in the
middle of writing one in his quarters in the Keep of the Five Worlds,
the great Golden Tree visible outside his window.
He was Moriya, son of Shizumaru and Rimururu, one of my grand-nephews,
and it had been my pleasure to train him in the arts of leadership, as
well as some of the lore of Arden where I had once served as Warden.
...
... The next card bore a strong resemblence to the last one, and this
was by my design. A slender young man stood in a drawing room,
lit by the lights from unseen windows, leaning back against a sturdy
table while his focus was concentrated on the violin he expertly played.
His skin was lightly tanned, his hair was light and long, near-turquoise
blue, and he was clad in cream pants and a long green jacket trimmed
with gold. Behind him on the table rested a sheathed greatsword, a
golden crown, and a vase with a single green rose. On the wall hug
a painting of a flat world, its continents and oceans laid out like a
map from the vantage point presented.
This was Thoric, son of Michelle, and one of the family's major success
stories. Once thought of as a coward, he had proved his worth many
times over, to my daughters and then to the rest of my family in the
defense of our homelands and the forging of a new kingdom -- Arcadia.
I wished him the best of luck with his sudden rule; I knew all too well
how trying the reigns of power could be ...
... The next trump portrayed another woman, this one clad in green silk and
sheer velvet, trimmed in black. One booted foot rested atop the railing that
surrounded the foredeck of one of Amber's airships, while a black tricornered
hat trimmed with gold sat jauntily atop her red-haired head, its green feather
waving in the high-altitude winds. The woman looked confident and in control of
her element as stood in profile, commanding her fleet as it sailed above the
Plains of Harad.
She was Eowyn, my eldest sister, reborn through a bizzare twist of fate by
the plottings of one of Amber's oldest enemies, set against us for many
years but only recently brought back into the fold by the workings of
my family. Despite all she had done, we had accepted her back, knowing that
she earnestly sought her redeption and denied the lies that had defined her
life for so long. Would that more people be willing to make such an effort! ...
... This card had been a challenge to compose, mostly due to the
nature of the subject matter. There was no denying that Morgan was a
contradiction in terms, even to the members of the House of Harad. But
I had given it a go, anyway, and was pleased with the results.
A slender, effeminate man... or was he a stocky, masculine woman? stood
atop a hill in the depths of the Forest of Arden, the foothills and
peaks of the Kolvir mountain range visible in the distance beyond the
trees. The curves and angles of green plate armor, trimmed in lighter
shades of green, glinted in the full sunlight that also illuminated her
tanned skin and somewhat unruly short black hair. A slim, pointed face,
green eyes distracted with inner thoughts, looked over to the left of
the card while his right hand rested atop a steady, dependable broadsword
and her left held a warrior's helmet in the crook of his elbow. She was
the child of my niece, Hiko, and the Green Knight of Arden, skilled in
the arts of war, though perhaps sometimes blinded to common sense.
It was no coincedence that Morgan's pose on the Trump mirrored that of
my Trump of my sister, Juri, whom he idolized and quested for, even to
this day. ...
... This trump card captured another moment in time in Castle
Amber. A fair-faced woman clad in brown skirt and vest with a green
blouse underneath sat in an open window box overlooking the castle
ramparts. Thin curtains covered with turtles stirred in the breeze, a
painting of watermelons rested at her elbow beneath her, and she sang
for the little turtle that rested on her knee with an expression of
contentment on her features. Her fingers expertly played the strings of
the mandolin in her arms.
She was Mutsumi. Premiere trump artist of her generation, or perhaps
any of them, I had to admit. I hadn't had much contact with her over
the time of the Herald Crisis, but now that I had the chance to know her
as a Queen of her own Reality, I could see the inner strength that had
carried her through her adventures. I knew that Miki and Madoka were
proud of their daughter's accomplishments, but I hoped that her current
relationships would not drive a wedge between them. ...
... This next woman was clad all in shades of green, her uniform
one of those of the elite cavalry riders of Amber. She looked
over her shoulder at the viewer of the trump, her long brown hair
flowing down her back while long bangs framed her face. Her
smile was cheerful, yet focussed on the horse which she tended
next to her. A sturdy naginata was held in her right hand as
she prepared to ride her steed across the plains behind her.
She was Princess Naru, warrior and scholar, and while perhaps
only slightly tempermental (less so than her mother Shinobu or
her grandmother Kozue), she was a dependable presence and stalwart
defender of Amber's lands. I was proud to call her one of
my neices. ...
... The youngest member of the House of Rebma was the subject of the
next Trump I drew. I had managed to catch her during the celebration
of one year's High Summer festivities, a tray of cookies, cupcakes,
as well as a carafe of punch, standing atop a folding table in front of
her. Her blue eyes wide with surprise, her slim arms lifted under her
chin as if in hopeful prayer, she looked as if she could not believe
she had just been complimented on the meal she had prepared. Clad in
a simple shirt and skirt in blue and white, a long chef's apron secured
atop them, she seemed more serving-girl than princess of Amber; yet
I liked her instinctively, charmed by her humility and quiet nature.
It was only during the days of the current crisis that I learned why
I had that feeling of kinship for Shinobu Minor, daughter of Nagisa. ...
... Another newcomer to Amber, and one whom I did not know all too
well, save for what was said by others. And I knew from past
experiences that what other people said was never a proper evaluation of
a man. His skin was pale, his short hair was silver, his face boyish,
and he was clad in solid, unadorned steel plate armor, as grey as the
stormy sea. A regal pewter and royal blue cloak stirred in the breeze
behind him, secured at his neck with a blue-and-silver narwhal brooch.
His right hand supported a plain but functional greatsword, while his
left arm hefted a shield made of rippling water, distorting the view of
his body beyond it with its constantly shifting surface. He stood on a
rocky bluff above the sea, the sky clear but the ocean filled with
whitecaps, and a single narwhal could be seen surfacing in the
distance.
Both warrior and visionary, he had come from out of Shadow, seeking his
father's birthright, and perhaps hoping to undo some of the damage his
father had done during the ending days of the Crisis. He was Lucien,
son of Derith, and while many looked favorably upon him, others showed
him nothing but disdain. He would have a long, hard, uphill battle to
get out of his father's shadow, for good or ill. ...
... Within the face of the next card stood another recent newcomer to our
family. Clad in body-hugging green and brown hunting leathers, her arms and
shoulders were protected by gold-trimmed black greaves and shoulder pauldrons
that gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through the trees of Arden behind her.
That same light also glistened along the runed face of the broadsword she held
in her hand, and glinted off the purple earrings that hung from her pointed ears.
The woman was tall and powerfully built -- perhaps not as strong as my daughter,
Kanna, but I knew that she made up for it with her raw military prowess. Blue
eyes looked out from an elfin face, while long pink hair fell down her back like
a cataract.
She looked as if she had issues with the entirety of Shadow, but at the same
time was willing to meet those challenges head on. She was Moonshade, the
daughter of "Shaft" Tenjou and Nienna of the Valar, and despite her gruff
exterior I knew from my daughter's reports that her heart was good, and
that one day she would be a worthy inheritor of my former position as Warden
of Arden. ...
... This Trump portrayed one of the bedrooms of Castle Amber, and sitting
on the bed within it was one of the younger members of the family, clad
in red, black, and pink clothes of a slightly military cut. She was engaged in
a bit of magical practice -- In one dark hand was an open spellbook, while in
the other a fireball in the shape of a nuclear blast floated towards the
ceiling. Plush representations of the Primal Powers: Unicorn, Serpent, Logrus,
Pattern, were scattered around her pillows, while on the shelves of the
dresser behind her stood three portraits and many books of arcane lore. She
had a look of surprise on her face beneath her short pink hair, as if she
hadn't believed that she could have pulled the spell off.
Princess Jacqueline, daughter of Shaft and Kasumi. Missing for twenty years,
forever slightly out-of-place among the generations of Amber, yet trying to
gamely carry on in the wake of her father's death. I only wished that her
quest to find out who had killed him would not lead her down the path to
her own self-destruction. ...
... The power of dreams was revealed in the image of the next card I drew
from my deck. Within it, a young woman with short red hair, clad in a
practical blue dress and pants stood atop a gliding contraption of her
own design, flying or hovering in midair without concern, the sun at
her back and the sky mostly clear -- save for the formation of clouds
behind her which seemed to create the image of a wide pair of draconic
wings sprouting from her back. Her expression was calm and peaceful,
and on her shoulder rode an orange-and-brown foxlike creature, its green
eyes keen and attentive to the wishes of its mistress.
She was Princess Nausicaa, Mistress of the Winds and master peacemaker
of the younger generation, daughter of Mikage and raised ably by
Dowager Queen Anthy. And, if the tales about her were to be believed,
her mother was my sister Eowyn, save from Mikage's dreams of another
universe and life within it. ...
... The man stood framed in the opening of a ballroom in Shadow, his tall
frame backlit by the lights from the party inside. He was impeccably clad in a
white uniform, trimmed with blue, and his short brown hair was smoothly combed. His
smile was inviting, his outstretched hand only adding to the offer to join him
at whatever party he was attending.
He was Kentaro, Wakaba's son by Rinaldo of Kashfa, and despite his bastard
heritage, he was much sought after by the ladies of the court. Personally, I
couldn't see why. ...
... I turned the card over, and revealed another in my deck -- one of the most recent of my artistic efforts. The trump revealed a slim, but still fit young man with short brown-black hair and wide brown eyes behind a pair of Lennon-esque spectacles. He was clad in practical clothes -- flannel blackwatch shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blue jeans, and dark sneakers, and he steadied a thick leather bag with his right hand as it hung over his shoulder. The man stood within an egyptian styled tomb, regarding the 1930'-era radio that stood in the middle on a wooden table. Calm, polite, and helpful, yet still capable of kicking much butt when needed, he was Beowulf Kohl, one of the most travelled in Shadow of Kanna's generation, one of her closest friends, and one of my more favored nephews. His mother was Wakaba, but nobody knew who his father was, or if they did, they weren't inclined to speak about it. ...
... She was a relative youth to us; precocious, cute, not fully knowledgeable
about reality and the way it worked, but rapidly learning about the powers
she could wield and the skills she could express, both with art and music
and machinery. Her hair was auburn, tied back into two ponytails, and she
wore a light blue gingham jacket over a white blouse and a long blue denim skirt.
She stood between two worlds -- one the bright blue skies of an agricultural
heartland, and the other a nighttime cityscape around the turn of the century.
She winked, her brown eyes sparkling above her freckled face, and behind
her hand she held several trump cards.
She was Aeris, the 'daughter' of Beowulf and Lily, the trump construct
they had created with Mutsumi's help. She reminded me so much of my eldest
daughter, and I hoped Beowulf and Lily were ready to withstand the challenges
that were ahead. ...
... The next woman in the trump deck was a vivacious, full-figured blonde,
clad in an archer's outfit -- if archers were known to wear harem pants and
bloused shoulders as part of their livery. She was trimmed in pale blue and
pale green, with accents of silver and gold, and her light blue eyes smiled
at the viewer. She looked ready for adventure, with a longbow in her right
hand and a quiver of arrows over her left shoulder and the pack that hung
from her back.
A combination of attractiveness and practicality, this was Lily Butler,
Travis and Yumi's eldest daughter. It was easy to see how she could be
attracted to a man like Beowulf, and why Lily's approach to life livened
up their relationship most satisfactorily. She had earned Kanna's respect
over the Herald Crisis, and mine as well. ...
... A short but well-built young lady winked at me from the face
of the next trump card, ash-blonde hair trimmed short, save for a single
forelock that jutted from the center of her brow. She stood within a
dim tavern in front of the establishment's bar, her arms crossed underneath
her full bosom, her curves only accentuated by the orange-trimmed Cathayan
dress she wore which was slit up to her right hip and featuring a painting
of a roaring bengal tiger on the front. Adding a hint of exoticness was a
furry fox's tail, trailing behind her from behind her dress. Her left hand
held a stylized fox mask, while the right held a silver coin between two
fingers, as if to offer to buy the viewer the next round of drinks.
This was Mitsune, the second daughter of Travis and Yumi, skilled in
shapeshifting and the ways of men, who had shown many hidden depths in
responding to the current crisis. She still got on various people's
nerves to her trickster's ways, but she showed enough inner steel to
impress even Moriya, who had fallen in love with her before his
untimely demise. How she would carry on after his death I did not
know, but both Beowulf and my daughter had confidence she would
persevere. ...
... This next trump card amused me, even as I was proud of the
amount of detail I had put into it. A young man clad in a green jacket and
brown pants, his brown hair trimmed short so as to keep out of the square
glasses that covered his eyes, stood proudly in a wood-paneled hallway. On
the wall behind him were many portraits, several of them of his parents during
several moments in their lives, including their marraige. I could tell that
the paintings had been done by his own hand.
He was Keitaro Orkuz, the hereditary Prime Minister of Begma, who had been
fostered in Amber and learned the arts of leadership from Tylor and Trump
from Miki. He had grown into a fine young leader, and I wished him the best --
especially with my granddaughter Shinobu Minor, whom he had married. ...
... The man in the next Trump was colored starkly, even as his brown-eyed
expression was calm and confident. He was clad in black jacket, white boots,
black boots, and silver trim at his neck and wrists. On his left breast
was tucked a silver rose, while his right bore his device -- a black
cormorant resting atop a crescent moon. He was on the bridge of a
technological ship, his men at computer stations behind him, seated
in a grey metal command chair with his right hand rested on a sphere on
the armrest as his left pointed as he gave a command.
This was Demetrius. He was an experienced commander, an expartiate prince
from the realm of Avalon, an Abyss Master... and my adopted 'son'.
Really, what more could be said about him? ...
... She stood halfway up the dias in front of the great Obsidian
Throne of Ember, a Pyricorn carved into its back and a red satin
cusion resting in its seat. Her skin was tanned from the twenty-four
hour daylight of the kingdom, but it went well with the red, gold, and
silver of her skirt and sleeveless jacket. A gold five-pointed tiara
graced her forehead among her wavy chestnut hair, and her blue eyes
looked towards me with wistfulness and wry humor, as if she could not
believe that she was standing there. Her left wrist wore a large,
cufflike bracelet with a hexagonal ruby inset. Her right hand wore a
thick ruby signet ring. I knew deep within myself that no matter what
I did, for good or ill, she would forgive me and love me and care for
me.
I loved her. Nurturer and Teacher, Creator and Mother...
Corrine the First, Queen of Ember. ...
... He stood proudly within the depths of the great Fire-Forest of the
Corona, unaffected by the heat of the flaming trees even while wearing
his gleaming scarlet plate armor, trimmed in scaled gold. A royal red
cape hung loose from his neck behind him, while a wide gold sash
crossed the front of his chest diagonally beneath the two sunburst
rondels that graced the armor. He held in his gauntleted hands a
large, wide broadsword, the hilt and guard elaborately styled to
represent the head of a great dragon. His skin was smooth and tanned,
his ash-brown hair was neatly combed and parted on the left side, and
his amber eyes, the same shade as my own, combined together to give
the knight an impression of patient earnestness. That impression had
served him well, for he and my mother were deeply in love with one
another. I loved him too, and how could I not?
He was my father, the Red Knight of Ember, Protector and Avatar of the
Fire Pattern that rested within the depths of Mount Vesuvius. ...
... Clad in a blue gown, trimmed in yellow, the brown-haired woman
stood in the spotlight at a court affair in Castle Amber. She was the
center of attention and clearly relished it, pulling off a level of
poise that I could not have once believed of her, a flute of wine
nestled in her right hand. Brown eyes smugly regarded the viewer as her
hair, styled in two fans, caught the light. The stars glittered
outside, but were drowned out by the woman inside.
This was Keiko, the Court Mage of Amber, and mother's adoptive daughter.
She had brought herself up through the ranks of Amber's mage corps the
hard way, earning her a place among the inner circle of those of the
blood of Amber and Ember. She was married to Ramon, who my mother and
sister both favored, and their relationship was a happy one, even though
others felt that at times, Keiko was too greedy and manipulative for her
own good. It was no coincedence that I had styled this trump after
Fuyutsuki's trump of Aunt Nanami...
... Tall and proud, clad within plate armor carved out of solid
ruby that showed off the trademark figure of a Lady of Harad, bright
flaming wings arched behind her back. A thick-shafted glaive, its blade
traced with fire, stood gripped in her left hand, while her right hand
was offered towards the viewer, the rainbow shimmer of a trump gate
revealing a tropical beach beyond, a stark contrast to the almost
apocalyptic landscape behind her, all reds and oranges and browns of
unrestrained heat. The light of her wings and that from her glaive
reflected off the many facets of the armor, matching the amber tone of
her eyes, setting her red hair aflame as it cascaded down her back.
She was unique, beauty and power wrapped into a singular package,
beloved by her father and mother, embodying fully their skills in
Pattern and Trump and transcending them both. She was all the wonders of
creation, the first, oldest, and strongest of the known constructs of
Amber. She was me. Gabrielle, Princess of Ember. ...
... The woman in the following trump fit the mold for a 'Warrior Hussy' to
a T, as Motoko had once put it. Deeply tanned skin, a lush, muscular body
barely hidden by a white-trimmed blue bustier, wrist cuffs, boots, and
lower tunic/loincloth, unconcerned with the bright light and frigid snowfall
behind her. She looked at me with an expression of calm earnestness, right
hand resting on her hip, left hand closed in a fist at her side; an almost
palpable sense of innocent sexuality and power radiated from her, enhanced
by her long mane of blue-black hair and beguiling deep blue eyes. This was
a woman who would not take no for an answer, as evidenced by the slain
Frost Giant of Jotenheim behind her.
She was Shinobu Minor.
She was my daughter.
And despite everything circumstance and fate had tried to drive between us,
I still loved her. ...
... The next trump portrayed a woman; but oh, what a woman! She was
a giant with deeply tanned skin, at least six and a half feet tall, with
thick red hair chopped into a careless wolf cut. A white headband held
the hair away from her blue eyes, the ribbons trailing down her back.
The span of her wide shoulders were barely contained by the yellow gi and
red low-cut spandex top she wore, tied at the waist with a wide black
belt. Her legs were long and well-defined, sheathed within black tights
with red psuedo-cherryblossom starbursts on them. Despite her powerful
build, she wasn't unfeminine, nor did she look surly; instead, her face
was graced with a proud, smug smile, her right hand curled and lifted in a
thumbs-up gesture. Her other hand rested on her hip. She stood in the
middle of the Royal Gymnasium, a large staff with a golden sphere on the
end slung on her back.
Her pose expressed the sort of solid good cheer that one often found in
particularly large, powerful people, the easiest alternative to such
people during their formative years being a bullying surliness. We had
our differences, but we still got along most of the time. She was Kanna,
Princess of Ember... and she was my younger sister. ...
... He stood tall and proud in a crisp white naval uniform trimmed
in blue and red, his epaulets and buttons gleaming in the noonday sun.
His skin was lightly tanned, and his blue hair was trimmed short, save
for the lighter blue forelock that jutted from his forehead. His right
hand rested on his hip above a sheathed sword, while his left held up
two roses, red and purple, to go with the blue one nestled within his
breast pocket. Behind him was a sturdy sailing ship, its masts rigged
and sails stowed while it was docked at one of Shalomar's many piers.
His blue eyes and charming smile had made him a darling of many a woman
over the years, but none so much as my sister Kanna. He was
certainly attractive, no doubt about it, but I knew for a fact that was
not the sole reason my sister Kanna had fallen in love with Commodore Ruka.
The depth of his concern and support for my younger sister during the days
of the Herald Crisis had cemented their friendship and camraderie into
Love, and I had nothing but the best hopes for the two of them. ...
... She was shorter than mother, though not by much. Her build was
stockier as well, if that could be believed, though her orange skirt and
sleeveless jacket trimmed in red did well to hide it. A silvery
three-pointed tiara twinkled where it nested among the dark chocolate
curls of her hair, which fell down to her shoulders. Her face was
rounded, and her bluegreen eyes were thoughtful and intelligent. The
similarities between her and Queen Corrine were so striking that it had
caused more than one person in the past to mistake them for sisters, and
there were good reasons for that, though it was hard for me to explain it
to a layperson, so I didn't try.
A spectral, magical Pyricorn danced above her outstretched right hand while
her left rested on her desk in her offices in Castle Ember, rings glinting
on her fingers, a marked contrast to her tanned skin. She was my mother's
right hand, her assistant, secretary, and confidant. She was Catherine of
Pariseau, and she was the Regent of Ember, who had ruled the Kingdom in the
Sun for five centuries patiently awaiting my mother's return. ...
... A slim, unassuming woman clad in pastel magenta robes detailed
in blue blue trim, her dark eyes kind, stood in front of a metal table.
Her straight brunette hair was secured with a yellow ribbon, the ends of
which curled slightly over her shoulders. Two heart-shaped earrings
hung from her ears. Her entire demeanor was that of a first-year magery
student, which many assumed she was; quiet, studious, unnoticeable by
those who preferred more flashy magics.
They were dead wrong. She was Mia Ausa, the Court Mage of Ember, master
of fire and ice based magics, and the card depicted her in her
laboratories within the Silver Spire of Castle Ember, a burst of flame
and a small snowstorm magically contained within glass vessels on the
table behind her. I had seen her incinerate entire armies with her
flame magics, then ripped the remainder apart with raging blizzards and
hails of sharp glittering ice. The fact that she could do this even
within the heart of Ember only made her more impressive. She was one of
the three I had originally learned sorcery from, and I was glad that I had.
...
... A green-eyed beauty clad in a sleeveless gown of gold stood
in the next Trump that I had painted. A belt of gold hung at her waist,
a blue ribbon circled her throat, and her face was graced with
a slight smile beneath her deep green eyes and orange-red hair.
However, her stance was won to sneeze at, for she had been caught
in the middle of a military breifing -- she gestured with a pointer
at a map of the kingdom, while behind her duty rosters hung on a board
and gold plate armor stood on a rack to her left.
This was Haruka Arisugawa, the Marshal of the Kingdom of Ember. She
had served the kingdom faithfully for centuries before mother even came
to power, and the Queen's ascention to the throne had not changed this fact.
However, Marshal Haruka's loyalty to mother was unquestionable -- which
certainly continued to surprise my mom. After all, she had qualities
which reminded mom of both Aunt Juri and Grandmother. ...
... The next Trump depicted a woman floating, or perhaps flying,
in three-quarters profile within the wonders of space, a large
blue-ringed terrestrial planet and a dark encrusted moon featured
prominently against a spectacular starfield behind her. She was
tall and full figured, and every inch of her revealed a self-assured
femininty, from the tight leather pants and vest that sheathed her body,
to the yellow-golden eyes and slim smile that looked back at me with
confidence. Her hair was noteable, cyan and wildly arranged in a
great sheaf behind her head, save for the hair tails that flowed in
front of her ears to frame her face. A grouping of five silver stars
glittered on the collar of her red blouse, while red gems gleamed
at her wrists and at the base of one ear.
There were many different personalities in charge of Ember's military
forces, but none were as noteable as Ryoko, the Admiral of the Onyx
Fleet, the space-based branch of the service. She claimed to have
once been a space pirate, but for as long as I had known her, she had
served mother's kingdom admirably, patrolling Ember's space-based
Pyricorn Threads and protecting its cargo vessels as they crossed the
great beyond. ...
... A jovial, portly man stood with his back to me in the next card, his
greying curly hair and white beard framing a heavyset, amused face, a twinkle
in his blue eyes as he glanced over his right shoulder. He stood in one of
the rooms of Castle Ember, a combination of planner's office and painting
studio, a map of the castle grounds and various schedules and lists affixed
to the brown stone walls. His left hand held a painter's pallete, and his
right, a paintbrush, for he was working on a portrait of mother, clad in
light blouse and brown leather pants and riding boots, standing in front of
one of the horses used by the Rangers of Arden.
He was Johann of Pariseau, the father of Regent Catherine, and he had served
ably as the Castellan of Castle Ember ever since the beginnings of the Pariseau
Regency. There were none, save for Aunt Catherine or Father, who knew the
castle better than he, and he had been responsible for many of the paintings
that decorated the castle hallways. ...
... Taller than mother and well-tanned, she stood in front of the partially
open gates of Castle Ember, the five plasma fountains in the courtyard
partially visible behind her. Long red hair streamed down her back, and white
silk sheathed her trim legs and arms, controlled by leather vest, boots, and
abbreviated shorts. Her expression was stern, her arms crossed, daring
interlopers to just try and breach the castle's defenses. A ruby-pommeled
rapier and matching main-gauche hung from her hips.
She too bore a superficial resemblence to my mother, and for good reason;
because Eowyn Arisugawa, the Commander of the Palace Guard, had been
accidentally templated on mom's memories of her deceased eldest sister,
Eowyn of Amber. She did not live in the other's shadow, however -- she
was a fully realized individual, with her own desires and interests, and
all among the kingdom knew of her dedication to the crown of Ember. ...
... Bright blue hair pulled back into a ponytail nearly as long as she was tall, Lady Misaki had an impressive figure and strength to match. Clad in a deep red-brown tunic trimmed in black and secured with a wide white belt, pants of white sheathing her long legs, she stood in profile in front of a painting depicting three large trees while she held an ironwood staff in her right hand. Bubbly, kind, and likeable, it was hard for some to believe that she was my mother's Royal Bodyguard, charged with her protection both at home and abroad. But, she served that task admirably, giving my mother peace of mind and a friend and companion during her travels through Shadow. ...
... She stood in the spotlight, stage lights drowning out all the
rest save for herself, her tanned body clad in a deep green bustier,
black leather biker pants, and a red biker jacket. A trump case
hung at her hip, and a dagger was sheathed alongside one calf-length
boot. Her pose and expression indicated she didn't give a damn
what other people thought of her -- she was there to give the best
performance she could with the microphone on a stand in front of her.
She was Priss Asagiri, the Court Bard of Ember, who had come out of
shadow with her guitar and band. While electrical instruments didn't
work in Ember (or Amber, for that matter), she had still adapted well
to the environment. There was no question that my mother enjoyed
Priss's work -- and she was a good friend of mine. ...
... The golden dragon shown within the next trump crouched proudly
atop the hoard of gold and gems that filled the cavern around him, the
light from the volcanic stone walls reflecting off the currency and
bouncing off his gold scales to fill the chamber with a warm light. His
wings were lifted in an expression of protectiveness, while his tail
snaked across the piles of coins. His blue eyes glowed from within as
he smugly held the chain of a ruby in his beaklike mouth.
Sparky, mother's golden dragon, had been willed to her upon King Gendo's
death -- but her fondness for the beast had been well known way before
that, given she was the only one beside the king who had been able to
get close to him. But who could have imagined that when mother had
inerited the dragon and his hoarde... that she would have inherited
the Fire Demi-Jewel and a claim to Ember as well? One might even
say it was destiny that had drawn the gem to her. ...
... Elegant, slim, sharp-tounged, aristocratic. The woman on the trump
was auburn-haired and brown-eyed, her expression confident and possessed
of a calculated sensuality. A violet Lipunese kimono decorated with
plum blossoms hung from her body, catching the heated light from the
steel forging crucible that hung behind her, pouring molten metal to
another portion of the factory she was in. She was as comfortable on
the foundry floor as she was in the halls of commerce, the embassies
of diplomacy, or on the fields of battle; and I knew that Kanna regarded
her as a close cousin, or even a sister, despite how much they had
argued over the years.
I still couldn't believe that Sumire Kanzaki was related to me. But
she was the daughter of Drake and Nabiki, fostered in secrecy in Ember after
Uncle Drake's dissapearance. Looks like Kanna was right for treating her as
one of the family, after all. ...
... A short, trim redhead smiled proudly at me from the face of the next
card, a baseball cap (with what looked to be the pattern on it) in her right
hand tipped in what had to be a salute. Intelligent and impish wide brown
eyes twinkled above freckled cheeks and a cute nose, her skin was otherwise
clear yet slightly tanned due to her time spent in Ember or Mechanus. She
was clad in a blue pullover top, tight blue jeans, a red leather flight
jacket, and utility boots covered her feet while a heavy energy pistol hung
at her hip. She was Lian, daughter of Wasyuu and of Prince Gideon of Avalon,
a master of the arts of the Broken Pattern and the Elder Gods, as well as
that of the many technologies to be found through Shadow. She and Kanna had
not been entirely close during their early years, and hadn't seen each other
for over fifteen, but when Lian returned they had formed a fast friendship,
the two of them reinforcing each other's weak spots as they went on
adventures together.
It really shouldn't have surprised me that Kanna had developed feelings above
and beyond what I had thought she had for the shorter redhead... but it still
caught me flat-footed, and I wasn't sure how to take it. But then again,
according to Kanna, it had come as a surprise to her as well. ...
The woman stood straight and tall in the Great Hall of Castle Ember, her feet firmly planted in the middle of the red strip of carpet that ran the length of the tiled floor. Sunlight streamed through the collonaded windows, filling the expanse with warm light. Her body was tanned, toned and fit, not too muscular nor too lush, and she was clad in a sleek, serviceable miniskirted bodysuit in shades of red and sleeves of white. A blue cabachon rested above her left breast, while a blue gem gleamed at the center of the headband keeping her red hair up. Her hair swept upwards, reminiscent of the flames that danced in her right palm, reflected in the red gems on the backs of her fingerless gloves. Her pose made it looked like she held the far tapestry of the Pyricorn Rampant above the Obsidian Throne in the palm of her hand, watching over it with red eyes and a kind smile.
The woman stood on the stoop of a temple building, a broom in her hand as she had been caught in the middle of sweeping the steps that lay before her. She was clad in the garb of a temple acolyte or priestess -- her top was white with the sleeves tied back, and her pants were red, tied with a large bow in front, with stylized flames upon them. Her skin was clear and her straight black hair hung freely down her back. Tucked into the pocket of the pants could be seen a prayer stick, as well as several holy wards. She smiled as she worked, and the smile was matched by the glimmer in her purple eyes. Behind her, perched on a pillar that had a Pyricorn on the top, were two ravens that appeared to be watching her as she worked.
The man sat on a rock outcropping on the edge of a great firey forest, caught in a moment of feigned relaxation. He was clad in a dark, blue-trimmed greatcoat, though the waist was unfastened, revealing simple white pants, a white shirt, and several thick bead necklaces around his neck, even as the gold bandolier crossed his chest. His mop of short, red-orange hair nearly matched the flaming branches behind him, and his brown, almost amber eyes looked out at the viewer with a palpable aura of smug, casual arrogance, matched by the slim upward line of his mouth -- though one canine was barely visible, lending him an almost wolfish aspect. In his right hand he held a thick metal fan up above his shoulder, and flames crackled along its edges. With his left hand, he scratched the 'ruff' of a hellhound that sat at heel beside him.
The woman in the portrait was striking, there was no doubt about it. If her shapely physique, green eyes, and long mane of wavy red hair did not grab the viewer's attention, the fact that she was caught in a moment of unassisted flight, her expression one of joy, would have done the job. She wore a deep green doublet and matching hose; the doublet was double stiched with darker green thread, and her feet were sheathed in soft brown leather boots. The neckline of the doublet was partially unsecured, revealing the golden ruffles of an undershirt which matched the gold sash tightened around her waist and the gold gloves that protected her hands. There was a sheathed sword secured within the sash, and its hilt was evocative of a bird of prey. It was easy to imagine the ruffles of the shirt as the splayed wings of some bird; especially since behind the woman, framing her, was the image of a great flaming phoenix, its wings outstretched, its beak open as its head was lifted to the sky.
The woman stood on a rocky, dusty street, framed by tan stone buildings on either side. Wherever this place was, it was clearly rather dry, given that one could see past the woman, beyond a rocky plain, to spare mountains and a clear sky with few clouds. She was clothed for heavy travel; a white overcloak which hid most of her body hung over her shoulders, secured at the neck with a simple black tie, while the boots on her feet were stained with dust and dirt. Despite the severity of the landscape, the woman herself appeared to be in a good mood. Her hair was black and short, with long bangs, and her blue-grey eyes were clear and attentive. Two thin gold earrings hung from her ears. Her left arm was swept out and back, lifting the cloak to reveal more of what she was wearing -- a white jacket, a white miniskirt -- as well as the rows upon rows of tiny single-shot pistol crossbows that hung on supple holsters within. A small black cat with green eyes peeked out from behind her ankles.
This woman, despite her her height and slimness, stood straight and tall on the ramparts of Castle Ember, the grin on her tanned face reflected in her sharp green eyes. She was clad in a miniskirt-dress, all in shades of red and orange, cut for ease of movement, with tough boots, fingerless gloves, and elbow pads all in brown. Her hair was red and wild, barely held in place by the thick red headband she wore, pushing the bangs up and the hair back into a thick ponytail. On her lower left arm, she wore a curious device : a thick metal bracer with various magical accoutrements attached to it. She held up her left index finger, and flames twisted up from the device to blossom above her fingertip. Those flames were reflected in the various large cabachons on her outfit, and behind her they formed the coiled shape of wings.
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]