And Back Out of the LogrusIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | And Back Out of the Logrus [continued from Into the Logrus] ^Amba? It's Claudio.^ He sounded shaken, but seemed to be hanging on to the contact as if it were a lifeline. She received the impression that he was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by broken crockery and smashed pastry. Amba had been prepared to brush off anyone other than Helena, as brusquely as was necessary. But her surprise that it was Claudio stilled her thoughts, even as she took in his surroundings. Her demeanor was a bit calmer, her thoughts a bit more keen as she queried, ^Where are you Claudio?^ ^Castle Amber,^ he replied at once, then added, ^I just talked to Helena...^ "Helena!" Amba interrupted aloud. "Is she ok? Where is she?" She could sense Claudio wincing at every word as if at a hammer blow. ^I don't know precisely where,^ he admitted, ^but I do know she's with her sister ... and alive, more or less in one piece, and reasonably coherent. But without her Trumps. And wherever it is, it's got a way shallower energy gradient than wherever it is you are,^ he added. ^Whisper to me gently, Amba.^ Amba's brow furrowed as she digested what he said, or tried to at any rate. In the end she judged it inconsequential in the fact of Claudio's other news. ^So I should be able to contact her then,^ she mused, rhetorically. ^Are you ok? What did you need?^ she thought, unable to keep a hint of impatience from seeping into her thoughts. ^I needed to know how you were, and where you were, so I could pass it on to Helena,^ Claudio replied, with a touch of rueful amusement. ^If you plan to contact her yourself, you might consider doing it from somewhere else ... or whatever it is that has your volume control cranked up to 'maximum.' I'm not sure Helena could handle the energy backlash right now; she seemed pretty beat when I talked to her.^ ^I don't know what it would be,^ Amba replied, perplexed. ^I've contacted people from here before... is it me?^ ^That I couldn't tell you,^ said Claudio, ^since I don't know where you are or what's been happening to you lately. But you know I'm not in the habit of making Trump calls flat on my back...^ he pointed out. He was, indeed, beginning to look and sound decidedly rocky. ^Well... thank you. For the news, and for checking on me,^ she thought, brushing a stray lock of hair aside. ^Really. And take care of yourself,^ she added, smiling. ^You look like shit.^ With that, she broke the connection, and looked at Despil, nodding that she was okay, before looking around for Lord Torren. ^As ever, the soul of tact,^ murmured Claudio, but there was an answering smile on his lips and in his eyes. With that, she broke the connection, and looked at Despil, nodding that she was ok, before looking around for Lord Torren. Despil was still holding her arms, frowning at her. "Who was that?" he asked. "Just a friend," Amba said. "Letting me know Helena was alive." Her enthusiasm was muted somewhat by her thoughts. "You saw? And where is Lord Torren?" Despil shook his head. "Just that you had a trump contact—after you came from the coils of the Logrus. Why did you go there? That was a perilous thing to do! We were attacked outside—Lord Torren is holding them off—but he sent me to warn you..." "Attacked?" Amba said, alarmed. "By whom?" She extracted her arms from Despil's grip and came to her feet. "Come on! Take me to him!" Despil simply pointed down a long dark corridor. Then he was off and running, drawing a short blade has he ran. "I...have...nothing...more!" he shouted to Amba. "I was blind, dammit—I didn't travel armed!" Ahead of them in the tunnel was coming the sound of conflict. The clash of blades; the explosion of spells. Amba's only response was to draw her own, not breaking stride, and to pass it to him. Iridescent scales began to form on her bare forearms, spreading down to her fingertips, where they elongated into claws that shone even in the gloom as they neared the spot where their enemies pressed Lord Torren. Her eyes, now shifted to account for the light scanned to take in the situation almost mechanically—to prioritize targets for her bloodthirsty talons as they came into view. There seemed no shortage of targets. Lord Torren was hard pressed—a sword in his right hand, while his left was uplifted and glowing with green fire—burst of which he was directing at the black and red demons who circled, each no longer than a human forearm, but clearly vicious. The sword was holding at bay three ugly Chaosians (and the standard of Cjhaosian beauty was never high) while a further three crouched at a little distance, awaiting their opportunity when Lord Torren should tire. And he was tiring. The amulet at Amba's throat began to pulse with a black light, dark even in the gloom, very much akin to the colour of the Logrus in which she had so recently been. Instead of reflecting this light, her claws seemed to absorb it, glowing in counterpoint to the amulet. Once she was almost at Lord Torren's sword side she put on a further burst of speed flanking the three that Lord Torren held at bay with his sword, her claws seeking Chaosian blood with abandon. One turned to face her, snarling, its fangs dripping a venom that seared the ground and cast bright yellow sparks into the air which gave off a vile smell of sulfur. The other two were pressing Lord Torren, aware of her presence, but trying to draw a wedge between them. Despil was swinging the sword Amba had given him at the circling demons; he seemed to have edged it with some potent sorcery, judging by the way that one of the demons exploded with a wailing cry when the blade made direct contact. [continued in Death in the Darkness] |
