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 The Tragic History of Corwin, Prisoner of Amber. - Miscellaneous Debris – Archive

The Tragic History of Corwin, Prisoner of Amber.

בקטגוריות: Uncategorized

11 Jan 2003

(This tale are based on a true story. Where appropriate, the identities of the principals involved have been changed to preserve their dignity).

It was a nice evening. The sea breeze salty and fresh, the brine encrusting on my beard. I was sailing my small ship Juan over Rebma, seeking my rendezvous with my sister Llewella, to whom I’ve grown closer in recent years. I knew today that my brother Julian was visiting her, enjoying some of Rebma’s fishing no doubt. I knew something was wrong when I had a trump contact immediately after leaving Amber harbor. It was Julian.
“My Hunter Brother,” I said. “What brings you to call me so soon before I reach you?”.
“Treachery and Deceit, brother!” he said with cool detachment. I knew we had to act quickly. I swung by and collected my brother and fishy sister from their lofty towers in Rebma (They got my ship-seats wet. I hate that) and they briefed me on the way. It seems that Corwin was visiting our sister Fiona, the red witch. Seduced by her friendly demeanor and perhaps sharing an even closer relationship with her. It seems she left him in her tower and went off to a far-off, musical shadow, leaving him trapped and locked in the topmost room of the tower, next door to annoying neighbors with bad music.
Furthermore, the only spare set of keys rested in the hands of Eric, far from being Corwins constant friend and true ally. Something had to be done.

So with all haste we proceeded to Eric’s earthly abode and lurked in the shadows, waiting for opportunity. When Eric left his home Julian pounced, the grace of the hunter in his every more. Bypassing Eric’s defenses he snuck in and out while we waited in my ship. Long moments passed in restless waiting until he arrived back.
It got downhill from there.
Long was our way onwards, led by Corwin’s half-legible instructions over trump. Soon we entered the black road and drove on down it’s hellish paths. We passed by the Bumpy Railroad of Doom and survived their doom. We reached the Roundabout of Shadows and circumvented their shadows. We drove down the Black Road (called Raul Wallenberg in Thari) until we ultimately reached the very end of the Black Road – the Black Parking Lot, where little Black Cars parked in their devilish, Chaotic way. There we reached the tower where Corwin stood at the high window, pleading us for help. Long we climbed those stairs, the cries of Corwin echoing in our ears, until at last we came to his door. He was pounding at it wrothfully, entreating us to release him. But one last ritual had to be performed before the door could be opened ; We gathered round the door together and voices raised high in song we chanted the Kumbaya – at once crashing down Fiona’s mystical barriers and (as an added bonus) mocking Corwin’s oh-so-frequent imprisonment.

And so was Corwin rescued. And so the West was Won.

Then we went to eat.

טופס תגובות


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