The Opinions of Chetwin of Amber

(A Collection on Diverse Topics)

Topics of Choice:

People:				Places:
Aidan Alice Ander Aphrodite Arwen Aurana Bastion Benedict Bleys Caitlin Conrad Coral Corwin Dalt Dara	Deirdre Delwin Despil Digit Dorian Droppa Dworkin Dylana Ellyn Fenneca Fiona Flora Gerard Isbel Jessica	Julian Jurt Kali Kashfa Kaylana Kessalia Kurt Llewella Mandor Martin Medea Mercury Merlin Morgan Niobe	Random Lord Rein Remora Rinaldo Bill Roth Rowena Sand Santiago Suhuy Tsia Valerian Vanity Vialle Zane	Averick Dylana's Shadow Martin's Shadow Rebma/the Rebmans
				Power:
				Mages in General... Trump Artistry
				Other Things:
				Fiona vs Sand Problem Morgenstern The Patternfall Treaty

Aidan

"This favorite son of Sand is nobody else's favorite anything, as far as I can tell. He spends most of his time lurching around Amber's seediest dives and hanging around with the pimps and washed-up punks. Not only that, he continually obstructs my efforts to modernize and clean up that hideous section of the city. As if all of that weren't enough, he is an arrogant know-it-all seemingly proud of his dumpster-begotten roots. Most people wait to be de-loused before acting like a smarty-pants..."

Alice

"A paltry thing like a couple of generations can do nothing to thin the blood of Prince Corwin. She bears the Corwin-metabolism with enormous panache (a brief description of said metabolism: 1. Consume massive amounts of food. 2. Convert that food into more ass-whipping, hard-riding, fast-thinking, and flat-out stamina than it seems the laws of conservation of energy would allow.) Since I've seen her eat as much as Corwin was reported to, there's part one...since I've never had the luck to see her doing anything astounding with the energy, I must assume that she is doing some hefty stuff behind the scenes...or she would have spontaneously combusted."

Ander

"If they bothered to hold an "Amber's most pathetic horse-and-rider competition", Ander and his horse would be a sure bet. He's the unfortunate offspring of Sand, who had only marginally acknowledged him as her child. She had not deigned to speak to him, even once, until I forced her into it. I probably took my life in my hands when I did that, but what-the-hell, it pissed me off. He hasn't seemed any less pitiful, since she talked to him...but then again, whatever it was that caused her to clam up like that couldn't have been a really uplifting thing to hear."

Aphrodite

"Ok. Here's one of those real sad cases. If only Oberon had been just a little MORE sterile or a little LESS... prolific... or a little more responsible... Let me put it this way. You know all the family horror-stories about how they treated Sand and her asshole brother? They were the LUCKY ones, compared to this poor little freak. That is why I got Martin to do the emotional case-work on her. He got used and abused just like she did... and he's from her genetic home-town. Not that I expected them to hit it off well enough to engage in binge-drinking, followed by group homicide... but I digress... If a few Shadow lives have to be sacrificed, in order to further the emotional stability of a confused little Amberite, then so be it. Hell... if you look at those numbers, compared to the ones sacrificed in order to further the emotional INstability of members of our little group... well... need I say more? However, there is one positive thing that has come out of her having been jerked around like she was... She exhibits levels of paranoia that one would not think she could be capable of, without actually having grown up INSIDE the palace. Now, that paranoia didn't exactly do much practical good. If I'd wanted to use her myself, I'd have been able to do so, without much trouble. But it is a start."

Arwen

"You may have noticed that my editor has recently requested for an update to my musings on my current companion, Dylana. I had, of course, anticipated a follow-up, in the form of a similar request on the behalf of Arwen. I can see how my relationship to Arwen could easily be misconstrued to resemble my partnership with Dy - and, indeed, on a superficial level, it might be deemed similar. Yet, I wish to highlight the most significant differences, before I proceed any further. I shall employ my favored method of communication, to this end:

I regard Dy as an equal.
Dy is of an age with me. Very close contemporary.
Dy can really swing a sword.
Dy has other valuable practical skills.
Dy can take a dump without assistance.
Arwen is an overly emotional little tree-hugger.
As such, I feel a certain responsibility to try and teach her how the world really works.
Gerard is dead, so he can hardly order me to baby-sit for his daughter, even if she needed it. Arwen's father is very much alive, and yet he cannot seem to make time in his busy schedule of killin' things for fixing his broken kid. So he has ordered me to baby-sit.
*the following item is written in a combination of Averickan and Thari pig-latin, so that Ar can't read it* Unkie-Julian or no Unkie-Julian, I still hold it a miniscule hope of molding Arwen to my own purposes. Try that with Dy? Yeah. Make me laugh some more.

There. Enough with the list. I take perverse pleasure in ending on odd numbers, anyway. Having said all that, I will admit to Arwen being a part of my current crack team of troubleshooters. See... Arwen is responsible for the crack. Narcotics gags to one side, I am also forced to grudgingly admit that Arwen does indeed have a gigantic mother of a brain somewhere down under that nuclear-fallout-bunker-thick skull of hers. She can even freeze me out of a Trump contact, if she really tries. I had to be impressed by that. Of course, one would wonder if her teenage obstinance is giving her that extra edge. I do hope that she hones it, though. If she manages to live, she really can be one of the major Shadow-jockeys on the block. Since personal feeling and fraternal emotion are not exactly listed as my strongest suits, I have taken to saving my personal impressions of these idiots that share my chromosomes until last. We have now arrived at that milestone. The most complimentary thing that I can say about Arwen's character is that she is one. The second-most complimentary thing that I can say is that, where her personality is concerned, the joke is firmly on Julian. She is intensely modern, when it comes right down to it. Julian is very medieval. She is really rather trusting. Julian is as cagey as they come. Arwen also has a very concrete set of ideals. I'm not going to bother drawing the Julian-comparison there. You all know. However, it is that irritating and cumbersome set of ideals and... ugh... near-Shadow-earth-ethics that are causing her the most culture-shock. She's a vegetarian for godssake. Dammit, I've eaten things that could probably play chess with me. I do draw the line at things that could beat me... but she won't even watch, while I kill a duck or two. As I said, however, I hold out a modicum of hope. She has recently been first to participate in her very first killing spree. *sniff... always chokes me up* I actually thought about desensitizing her further by making her a scrap-book about her first mass slaying. You know... with actual scraps from the people she killed. But I decided against it, in the end. She looked like she was gonna toss her vegan-all-organic-cookies, as it was. Vegetarian barf is just that sort of color that would not go well on my boots. I think we'll end it on that note."

Aurana

"If you're gonna throw yourself whole-heartedly into the mage thing, you've got two possible routes: the one Merlin did, the sort-of hip, modern spellcaster, who doesn't go in for the pointy hats and newt-eyes... or you can go whole-hog with the "bubble-bubble, toil and trouble" bit, newt-eyes, marmot's-tongue and all. Aurana is one of the latter. I have no actual objection to this, but my main interest in spellcasting is rather utilitarian and limited... so I'd rather just learn the science and leave the culture to the pros... all of which means I'm not gonna learn much from this one."

Averick

"As for the place itself, it is also a blending of Corwin and Bleys' Shadows. The geography ranges from the crater-ridden and exceedingly sultry plains of Avernus, to the cold and uninteresting mountains of Ri'ik. In short, it is vastly more interesting than its "parent" Shadows. The name of my place follows suit: "Averick", from "Avernus" and "Ri'ik". I decided that to simply spell it as "Averi'ik", would be taking too much from one name... and I am not overly fond of artistic apostrophes. It's one big city... except for the places where there are actual sulfur-filled craters or craggy peaks... even then, it is not entirely uncommon for the highly enterprising or the desperately broke to attempt to open commercial centers on rafts out in the sulfur. Needless to say, the only such enterprises that have ever been profitable have been the sulfur mines... As odd as this may seem, I have only a basic working knowledge of the inner workings and culture of my own sovereign Shadow... I know all of the zoning in the city, designed some of the major constructions, and can recite the major stocks... but I am not often seen out and about, hob-nobbing with the residents and partaking of their medium-sized-red-fuzzy pastimes... Although they do trade extensively with nearby Shadows, they only do so with my help, and have not been made wise to the true nature of things. They believe that they are trading with other planets in their own solar system, via my "teleporters". In reality, the "teleporters" are simply Shadow-gateways, to which I have attached industrial-sized conveyor belts... They drop their goods on the belt, they vanish into a large red-and-blue-decked building, then they receive payment on the incoming treadmill. One of the bordering Shadows is extremely primitive. I have informed THEM that the textiles, coal, and lumber that come through the hole in the mountain are gifts from their totem gods... and that those gods demand gratuity. I have, in the case of this particular Shadow, had to engage in a bit of economic handicapping... the poor stone-age yobs chuck pitiful baubles on the conveyor. I have set up a piece of Shadow-warping to turn these things into Averickian currency... at a sort of Shadow-exchange rate. "In the 12th daily Averick stock report: the Averickian Pound had dropped .4 of a percent against the small-wooden-statue-of-Chetwin." We in the Shadow-walking-finding-creating trade term this region of Shadow "the gullible belt.""

Bastion

"My own dear brother. He spent most of his childhood buzzing around like a hyperactive dragon-fly, with that dog of his... as an adult, he spends most of his time buzzing around like a hyperactive dragon-fly, with that dog of his. He's always good for a laugh, if only at his expense. I'd always written him off as harmless, but just recently... I've had reason to suspect that he's been conspiring with terrorists. Damn shame, really. I'm hoping it's not true, but if it is, maybe I'll just cut off ONE of his wings...

Bastion is an idiot, anyway. I'VE proven that he doesn't have what it takes to get involved in hardcore gangster-type shit. When he thought that unknown assailants had captured his prized pooch, he went flapping off, right where I wanted him. I'm just one jackass who wanted to ransack his room. He's involved with multiple seasoned badasses, even meaner than I am. The second they know he's got a four-pawed-feathered soft-spot, they've got him by the... gizzard (I think he's got one of those). If you're intent on running with the gangster crowd, you might as well shoot your pets and break your legs in advance..."

Benedict

"Without a doubt, and unquestionably "the man", when it came to anything with a blade, a point, or a spiky-bit... or a chair-leg... or a toothpick... or a grape-seed. You name it, he could use it as an effective weapon. He taught me how to use my blade and he didn't talk much, while he was doing it. You know that wooden Indian right inside the Cheers bar? Give that thing the ability to open an entire keg of whoopass at .0000000000001 of a microsecond's notice. That's uncle Benedict. And yet something killed him... scary."

Bleys

"To say that this man had a hollow leg is an understatement deserving of capital punishment. His assassin, whether or not it was my brother, was probably sprayed with 100-proof spirit, as the bullet entered my uncle. If I had an extra brain cell for every one he killed, I might be as crafty as he was. In fact, he taught me (almost) everything I know about the Pattern and how to manipulate it. He had the unfortunate tendency to describe the Pattern as if it were sentient, but I suppose it is only natural for the student to eventually obtain greater understanding than the teacher. I only wish he'd listened to Dworkin as hard as Brand did... then he could've taught me how to draw Trumps..."

Caitlin

"She grew up outside of Amber and is one of the latest generation. I haven't seen her abilities put to the test, so I don't know how much the blood has thinned. I wouldn't bet on it being much diffused, though. Alice is one MORE generation down the line and she shows no signs of weakness or inferiority... quite the contrary. Speaking of Alice, this one has been seen hanging around with her and Jurt's kid. I don't know how that's gonna turn out, but at least they might be easier to track down, if they're all in one clump..."

Conrad

"A Chaosite. A Chaosite that dares to become... involved... with a daughter of Amber. I'd rather not dwell on that side of this man's relationship with Amber. Leave it at the fact that I do not trust him any more than any other Chaosite. I have attempted to convince my cousin that he is not trustworthy on numerous occasions... to be rebuffed with increasing unpleasantness. In my own defense, I have limited my caustic remarks, while he is actually within earshot... especially since he has become unavoidably and extremely useful of late..."

Coral

"Hmm... not much of an opinion on the woman herself, other than an impression that she is a bit distant and self-conscious... that could be because she never expected to become a part of Amber's royal family... or it could be BECAUSE DWORKIN STUCK THE JEWEL OF JUDGEMENT IN HER SKULL! What a stupid place to cache it... the Unicorn only knows what it's doing to her brain... but that's the LEAST of the problem. If somebody wants to steal it, all they have to do is kidnap her and they've got both the Jewel and a hostage, all in one package! I still think the old man's not quite right in the head..."

Corwin

"He is a difficult personality to describe. It is rather like trying to pry into the inner character of P.T. Barnum, based only on the descriptions of history. Ok, granted... Bleys fits that comparison more exactly, but it works for the C-man too. You know that some of it is all the way real, but some of it is part of the act. But the main thing is, you can't get to know Mr. Barnum, and separate the proverbial wheat from the theatrical chaff, because he is dead as a doornail... you can't get to know Corwin because he is Corwin. Oh, you can... but you have to sit on your ass in a moody, melodramatic place with him and consume more alcohol than an environmentally-friendly combustion engine trying to go cross-country. And while you're drinking and watching him whiz on rocks, pieces of furniture, or your servants, you have to accept that he may turn on you and get violently drunk - if you happen to press him on the wrong wounded spot. Yeah, you could also try to speak to him, while he is sober... but then, he is in the other half of his binary state. He's either pissing-on-things-drunk-and-emotional or he is the perfect courtier... who talks endlessly and you only find out things about yourself. So, I have to go on several things, when I try to understand the man in black and silver. What he says in public, what my relatives say about him... and my secret weapons: my fathers. I think Bill understands more about the real personality of Corwin Barimen, due to the fact that he knew Carl Corey. And I always find my lip curling, when I have to admit to that being our surname... To digress, briefly (I promise), you have to wonder where Dworkin picked it up? I don't know if there is still a House Barimen in the Courts... But. Digression over. Anyway, Bill doesn't talk extensively about Corwin or Carl... but I practically grew up in his house. I picked up enough. And I got to compare all of that with my biological father's reverence for his Prince Corwin. In fact, I owe the fact that I have to address any official letters to my father with: "Lord Rein, Knight of the Realm" to the fact that Corwin himself knighted Dad. Dad mentioned the battle of Jones Falls to me once. He seemed to be under the impression that he hadn't done anything particularly special. He just tried to keep both buttocks in the same time zone and sang to the troops, to keep them from deserting. But, when Lord Corwin tells you to kneel, you do it and thank the man, when you get to arise "Sir Buttocks-in-one-piece." Droppa? Nothing there. He just doesn't find Corwin to be very easy to lampoon. But here we have the elements that define Lord Corwin. Bill knew a modern, suburban man, with an almost retired outlook. Dad knew a wild and princely warrior. I trust both of their impressions, so the only conclusion which presents itself is that these are both true impressions. Which simply increases the amount of respect you just gotta have for Corwin. Now, from the way Corwin behaves - and I have not really been directly exposed to him very often - he seems to think far far less of himself than everyone else does. Were this simple modesty, I would smirk at him and tell him to swivel on his modesty... but I get the feeling that it's not actually modesty... Yeah, I think he actually undervalues himself. Of course, for those of you looking for a chink in the armor... that actually seems to make him more of a badass! Take the bullshit with him and Eric, for example... he always believed that Eric had him by the gazoongas. Just flat-out better. In reality, they were always neck-and-neck... but it was the fact that he believed himself to be inferior that made him both whipass and desperate. It is also why he gave Benedict a scar on his ear. So, yeah. No weakness there. Basically, there is no way that even I can actually disparage the C-man in any way, without feeling silly and slightly afraid. The man is Amber's single greatest cruise-missile, trouble-shooter, and (second to Dad) its greatest composer. If I can cast any pith in the direction of the star-crossed hero, it would be to ask where the f*ck he has been during the latest bullshit, but if you're reading this, Uncle Corwin, I'm sure you had reasons. Then again, I know where he's been, it just bothers me a little that it took him this friggin' long to crawl out of his own universe... and that's another thing. He is also now on an even footing with Dworkin. He has created a whole f*cking universe, dammit! And he's still modest! But here's my point about the Corwin universe. He seems to have gone on safari in it. I have no clue as to whether he has made it into an ally of Amber... or indeed, if it supports a culture of any kind. But we have to simply wait on him to divulge all of that crap. Random really should start doing press releases. I've been working on a stock-ticker that will work in Amber. Hmmm... I suppose, now that Corwin is hanging around again, I could snag him, Dad, and Bill and we could go off and get hammered somewhere. But if he even thinks about getting me into his tomb, it ain't gonna happen."

Dalt (and any spawn)

"As for Dalt, himself... he's just lucky that I'm not King, and that I'm not in very close line for the throne. If I were on the throne, the armies of Amber would not rest until his head rested on a pike set up in the palace gardens. I do not pre-judge any child of his, on a purely genetic basis... HOWEVER... If said offspring has been exposed to his treacherous ramblings at an impressionable age, or indeed at all, I would be exceedingly wary of him or her. In regard to my previous venom, I do not openly question Random's extreme leniency... nay clemency, toward this enemy of the state... I simply would have dealt with the problem more swiftly."

Dara

"Ok. Here it comes. I don't really know where to begin. I think I will first pose yet another comparison between our history and the history of motel-Earth... It will also be another one about Adolf Hitler. Everyone assumed that the little fart blew his brains out in his bunker. Nobody ever really saw the body, but everyone seemed to be satisfied enough with it to let it go. Every so often, some jackass even tries to sell the luger pistol he did it with on ebay or some shit. But, the real kicker is... jokes aside, nobody REALLY believes that he's still kicking around some little village in Argentina. You know how I know that? Because if anybody DID think that seriously, they would still be hunting his ass down. And they wouldn't stop until they DID hunt his sorry ass down and peg it to the nearest wall of the nearest British embassy. Now, the comparison goes this way: our little red-headed Adolf is just as gone as the Shadow version. The elders all saw him get flung down the mother of all pits. But GUERRING is still an INFLUENTIAL member of the ROYAL HOUSE of Chaos! Dammit, why does nobody else see this? She's the co-conspirator in the worst piece of skulldiggery the multiverse has ever seen, FOLLOWED by kidnapping Corwin, and we just let... her... the... f*ck... off... the... hook. I don't care if she's Merlin's mommy. And ya know what? I don't think HE really cares that much either. In fact, I figure the only reason he hasn't had her executed himself is that he couldn't justify it to the blood-thirsty fops he has in his own court. I have suggested many times that we unburden him of responsibility of the whole affair. I mean, come on! We let ALL of them off SO easy. WWII again... the Allies win... they occupy Berlin... Amber whips Chaos... then we just pull out and run off like a male black-widow spider after he's mated. Whatever. We were in a position to hand out some serious retribution... we were in the right, they were making a power-grab, we held the day by force of arms, etc. All the legalities were set up. Nobody could have raised a word against us, if we'd taken it into our heads to throw the WHOLE Chaosite royal family into the abyss after Brand... But no. We gotta take the high road and pat the bastards on the head, make nicey-nice and feel like we're so civilized. So... how does this all tie back to Dara? Yeah. I know. I digress. But that's what I do. She's the Herman Guerring. I don't wanna talk about her character, I don't wanna talk about her current relationship to Amber... I want her dead for crimes against the multi-verse. Until that happens, motel-Earth will have a better record than we do, when it comes to executing war-criminals. No offense, Bill, if you're reading this... but I really think we can do better than that."

Deirdre

"I am very appreciative of this opportunity to put my feelings about this newly resurrected aunt into a well-reasoned and constructive dialogue, which will concisely and eloquently advertise my opinions, fears, and hopes with regard to her. Do you know why I am thus pleased? Oh... it could be many things. Respect for my newly found relation, fascination with the inner workings of the Abyss, abject fear that Brand might still be alive down there... but my main reason, my most compelling one is the fact that my initial utterance, upon meeting Deirdre, consisted of a single syllable. "Urb." I suppose, it might be recorded in the family memoirs as the non-lingual-grunt heard 'round the world, but I doubt it. I think I'm gonna have to scrape my dignity off the floorboards on my own. I would like to begin the extraction of said dignity from said floor-covering by explaining that the now-famous "urb" was not so much the remark of a gibbering idiot, but the culmination of a prodigious quantity of very valid and powerful emotions and impressions. The first of those impressions was absolute shock. If you are reading this, Aunt Deirdre, I would like to inform you that I am a very difficult man to shock. Flora was my mother, Aunt. I am a hard man to shock. But I was. I literally could not force my brain to work on the level of language. I was also wrestling with a very terrifying idea. Deirdre showed up with Arwen in tow. I didn't realize, at first, that she didn't know who she was riding with. Do you know what I thought first? I was seized by the sinister notion that Arwen's stupidity could all have been a total sham. That she was truly DEIRDRE'S daughter and that she had been paving the way for her mother's re-entrance and takeover. Then I said "urb." Then I realized that, no... that was preposterous. Arwen was still an idiot and Deirdre was simply back to present her credentials and her spawn. So, that still left me with all the implications that everybody has been dealing with, surrounding this event. Things like, "how is this connected to the current terrorist uprising" and "how the f*ck did she survive" and "If she tells us that Brand isn't dead, I swear I'm gonna throw myself off Kolvir." You know. Routine stuff. Now that I have finally managed to stuff the reality of her reappearance into my frontal lobe, I find myself having very mixed emotions on the subject. On the one hand, we have regained one of Amber's most powerful anti-personnel-tanks. Deirdre can whip ass on a truly mythic level. On that note, she is all sunshine and lollipops with me - so long as her absence has not affected her loyalty. But here's the kicker on that one. You wanna ask her about that? You? No? How 'bout you? Uh-huh. I thought so. Hey. I ain't doing it. I have a profound allergy to rectally-administered-axe-hafts. So here's my main beef with the whole deal. We gotta sit around and wait it out, just to see if we're wining, dining, and throwing welcome-back-everybody-made-little-Amberite-babies-parties for a woman that most of us don't know... and may or may not be an enemy. As it is, I really doubt if even the elders can truly say that they know her anymore. And, while we're on the subject of questions that nobody is going to volunteer to ask. Has anybody even mentioned her name to Corwin in these past several centuries? More to the point... has anybody had the stones to mention it to him, now that she's back? Yet another one of those times that I really wish Bleys was back. If any of us had dumbbell sized balls required to saunter up to Prince Corwin and have a heart-to-heart with him on that subject, it would have been him. But I ain't gonna talk about that anymore. If any woman or man in black-and-silver questions me on this, after reading it, I will tell them that I was totally ignorant of any rumors and simply thought that any tension between Corwin and Deirdre was simply a misunderstanding involving her not visiting him while he was blind. And I will stick to that story. Now, here we have come to that section where I would talk about the person's personality. I have nothing to report. A family rumor in Amber and a night with Flora is worth about forty-five dollars. By that, of course, I mean that a family rumor in Amber is worth forty-five dollars. I really refuse to commit to any opinions, with regard to her. I'm not stupid. She really does have a clean slate with me. This does not mean I trust her an inch, but she has every opportunity to buddy up, if she wants. I'd even let her into my little party, right now and bond with her by killing Chaosites - so long as she doesn't take command. For that matter, let's make that an official invitation.
*at this point, on the page, there is Chet's wax seal, with his symbol on it, as well as his signature and full Amber titles, as well as High Minister of Averick and Captain of the Capitol Tower*"

Delwin

"A veteran plotter. I have no objection to the Family's favorite pastime... plotting. I can even respect Brand's plotting, regardless of the fact that he sold out- the point is, he was DOING something with his plots. They had a goal. This arrogant bastard plots as an end unto itself. I also have nothing against the Family's strongest instinct- the survival one. Once again, Delwin has perverted it- survival seems to be the only instinct or goal that he possesses. He has raised apathy to new heights... or dragged it to new criminal lows, by allowing a terrorist to impersonate him. He is an enemy of Amber, as far as I am concerned, but Random's fraternal softness has intervened once again."

Despil

"There are two Chaosites I do not feel total enmity for (excluding Merlin, who is almost one of us). Jurt is one. Despil is the other. I think Merlin got all of the interesting bits out of Dara's genes. This guy just seems to have nothing going on upstairs, downstairs or in-between. I swear, he appears to be the multiverse's only three-hundred-year-old virgin. I guess he's a justice-of-the-peace or some crap in Chaos. He officiated over duels between Merlin and Jurt - but did nothing to stop that crap. I find myself unable to really dredge up anything else about him. Maybe, when the Big War comes, we'll only take him prisoner."

Digit

"Ohhhhhhyeahhhh... and there have been rumbles going around that we're going soft with the newer generations. Not if this little punk-ass has anything to do with it. I will now list the good points this uber-urchin has going for him:

He is homicidal. Very good. No compunction about killin'. That means he'll make it past sixteen.
He is apparently a kleptomaniac. Also good. No problems with obtaining needed materials. He could use a BIT of refining on his technique, when it comes to real subtle, non-pickpocketing skills... but that will come later.
He has a very quick little yapper on him. He at least TRIES to talk his way out of deep shit. He's still a kid, so we can't expect TOTAL dishonesty yet, but that too will come with puberty.
Adaptable? Like a full, metric AND standard socket wrench set. Set this little bastard down in any wacko Shadow you want and he'll be killin', stealin' and lyin' in two minutes flat. Hell... I keep hoping against mounting improbability that he's MY little bastard. But I don't frequent the docks. At least not with... ummm... Bob... drawn. And we think that's where he was whelped.

But yeah. The only thing that scares me about him is that he keeps slipping up on who his parents are. This scares me for two reasons:

His Amberite parent is obviously one of the REAL no-holds-barred badasses. This is obvious, mainly because of my previous list. If they told him to keep his mouth SHUT and shut good, they might actually silence him violently, if he accidentally blabbed about something way over the line.
It is also apparent that said badass parent may be one of those loose-cannons. Get of Grandpa that has yet to be uncovered formally. I suspect this mainly because everybody is agreed that Digit is one of us... and I cannot think of any reason why one of us wouldn't be jumping up and down to claim this little jewel as our own... if he were. So I DON'T like the idea of one of the real hardcore ass-whompers doing a stealth operation, this close to the heart of the universe. But, if that's the case... it'll be ok. Digit would do just fine as an orphan."

Dorian

"I don't know how Delwin dug enough passion from the well of his apathy to sire a child at all - especially with our dismal fertility, but he managed it. Dorian is on the border of sanity, but at least he doesn't take after his father. Evidence for his madness, you say? Well... it's only circumstantial, but he hangs out with Dworkin quite a bit. Guilt by association, I'd say. I wouldn't mind any of this, but for the fact that the little fink has a spikard. He's not putting it to any real use. He just whisks himself around Shadow, finding... unstable things to do. He's not even that adept at using it. I've tried to buy and borrow it from him, but he's not selling. If I want it, I guess I'll have to steal it."

Droppa

"Droppa... Uncle Droppa? Dad Number Three? I kid... I'd never insult you so much as to call you "Uncle" The jester was never the type for parenthood, which was why we got along so well. He didn't discipline me, he never changed my diapers... basically, all the stuff that f*cks up your psyche, he left to Dad and Bill. The only downside... I know ALL of his routines by heart...but then again, who in the Palace doesn't?"

Dworkin

"The original. The first Amberite... an Amberite by choice, though - not by birth. Because of this, there are still some elements of his native land in his character... not to mention his physiognomy. I have no doubt that the repairs made to the pattern improved his mental state, but I am not as sure as the rest of the Family seem to be that it has been fully restored. His obvious blunder, in putting the Jewel in Coral's orbit, was probably only one of numerous slips that he's made recently. I'm not even going to talk about his latest choice in chess partners..."

Dylana

"I'd met her a couple of times... at previous funerals, actually. She conjures up images of grass skirts and coconuts. She also smells a bit like a Gaia-Screeching-Weirdo. That, coupled with the fact that she's Gerard's... I just didn't talk to her much. She was the first to agree to try gang-Trumping Martin. Later on, Random ordered us to head up the investigation into all of his children's vanishing... From then on, she has been a useful, if highly distractible partner.

Dy is a special case. She really is. I've had friends amongst our family, as well as enemies. She's not the first chess partner I've shared genes with, and - although she is indeed quirky - she is not truly more wacky or perverse than most of the clan... however, the thing about her that removes her from the rest is the fact that she has been being all of those things around me consistently. To be perfectly honest, I've never had that experience. As a small boy, I never really had best friends or bosom buddies. The other children just didn't seem to be interested in the same things that I was. As a young man, I drifted around to my own devices, until I found a mentor in Uncle Bleys... but even he was around me less than Dy has been lately. And after Bleys bought it, I'd been left to my own devices again. Not that I care. I really do encourage my own solitude, simply out of the fact that most of the companions that I have had, for short periods of time, have done more to cramp my style than aid my cause. So I either tell them to bugger off or I simply let my own personality conflict with their various repressions, until they take it into their heads to pick up and step off on their own. Now, since Dy has been really helpful and does not try to discourage my various impulses, I have had no reason to employ the former method of dismissal. However, I have not gone out of my way to be more personable than I am, either. But she hasn't shown any signs of wanting to go walkabout. Indeed, for the past cluster of weeks, we've been in contact or in communication every morning and every evening... and most of the time, during the day. Now, I must say again... that this perplexes me. For the first time in my life, I seem to be a part of a concrete team. A semi-long-term one, at that. And it all started with a funeral. Go figure. But here, I find a natural bridging point from my current relationship toward Dy to her personality itself. The link being the almost unaccountable fact that my own personality has not worked it's egress-making magic on her yet. At least, for the purposes that we have been pursuing of late - which include multiple missions in the same campaign... her oddness has seemed to compliment my own candidness. I attribute this remarkable phenomenon to one main feature of our Polynesian dynamo: she has met, shook hands with, had long chats over coffee with, and eventually totally submitted to her own id. I simply cannot think of an occasion in which she did not act at once on her desires, even when they might result in her being thought of as uncouth, strange, or unmannerly. This is a very good start for a member of the ranks of the gods. It is not to say that she has totally rid herself of all repressions, but then again, even I have not done that yet. It's on my to-do list, though. In a slight point-of-order, I think her secret to acting on her id is not to try to do so. She just goes with the feeling. In another point of order, I must admit that some of her impulses are a bit strange. I have had to rein her in from actually, seriously pissing off the Old Man himself. I do not mess with Dworkin at all, unless I need to - and if he don't want me around, I leave out like a bat out the quality-control room of a dog-whistle factory. There have also been some other minor inconveniences. But I am more than willing to put up with that, in order to have a top-notch swordswoman and serious brain-wielder on my side. So we have now come to the portion of the discussion, which perplexes me the most. Her parentage. I mean... Gerard... ummm... lemme try to get a handle on this... Gerard... ummm... no... still not understanding it. Her mother must have been a very sharp-ass-mother-f*cking-genius-Polynesian. I think that about sums it up. Well... a sharp-ass-mother-f*cking-genius-Polynesian, with a fetish for boinking guys with lacrosse balls for brains. Of course, it is as a subtle joke on her parentage that I take such amusement in lifting Dy up and setting her on things. She has her father's strength, so she could just as easily lift me off the ground... but... see... the difference is... nobody could actually lift Gerard. And there is a certain set of stairs, going down to the Pattern room that can testify as to what usually happens when you set Gerard on something. But yeah... she's none the worse for her Polynesian trip. At least she doesn't wear traditional garb and refuse to use any weapon, other than a wooden whackin' stick. I can't abide it, when my relatives cling too hard to the Shadows of their non-god parent... but then again, I'm not talking about Arwen in this entry..."

Dylana's birth Shadow

"Only been there once. Beaches look good for development. She�d disembowel me....so I�ll just develop all the surrounding ones."

Ellyn

"The little girl of Amber's all-time ironman. She's a bit of a mystery to those with their fingers on the pulse of Amber's court affairs... since she hasn't been involved in any, with any degree of visibility. Since Corwin found her, she's been hanging out with him, in his universe. I have an urge to suck up to Alice, so I can suck up to her, so I can suck up to the big guy himself... so I can get my foot in the door of his universe. Maybe even open trade routes... but I'm getting ahead of myself... As for personal impressions, she seems to be a tad more honest than the rest of us... and also seems to have an almost un-heard-of, dare I say it? "honest-to-Dworkin-REAL-relationship-with-her-parent." I don't know if I envy her on that count or not..."

Fenneca

"Aunt Fiona's. Don't know her very well. Neither does her mother."

Fiona

"Aunt Fi. Everything about her is scary and double-purposed. Not only that, she is just as good at full-on, overt butt-whackin' as she is at subtlety and the mage's art. Even that nickname... "Fi" ...is quietly self-serving. Do any of the other elders have that formal a means of address? Is Random ever called "Randy" outside the confines of several hundred Shadow-earth brothels? Anybody calls Corwin "Carl" anymore, save Bill, and they get a display of a tried-and-true Shadow-earth hand-gesture at best and a sore ass at worst. Think Benedict ever got called Benny? Not even Grandpa. My point is this... calling her "Fi" gives you an illusion of high-level familiarity. If she doesn't object, you feel almost in debt to her over it. And you start feeling friendly toward her. If you find yourself in such a situation, stop and take stock of it. Then look down at your feet... on the floor, you will see (in very small print) the words "Spot where Fiona wants you." But you know the real beauty about that? If you DON'T call her by her nickname, she can act insulted. And a little en passant insult in our crowd is like the family-politics equivalent of the Bay of Pigs Invasion on our favorite Shadow. So here is where that gets us... SHE HAS YOU SCREWED FROM THE INSTANT YOU ARE INTRODUCED TO HER. And the little bitch just gets going from there. All of that said, I would give my left testicle for her to have been my mother, instead of... Amber's bicycle. At least I could count on some serious maternal protection, if I ever had cause to play that card. AND I'd be a seriously bronze-balled-stud of a mage to boot. But, alas... I'm just one of those dubious nephews she'd squish like a bug, as soon as look at. But hey. I just got through dragging her pert little behind outta the fire. I think I may be on the ups in her social book right now."

Fiona vs. Sand Problem

"First, we must describe the causation and manifestation of the difficulty between the two royal sisters...

The root of the problem seems to be the idea that Amber is not big enough for two sorceresses of great power and perky b-cups.
Sand, while not submissive to most people, is the submissive to Fiona's dominant in their f*cked-up dynamic. This comes as no surprise because I am firmly convinced that Aunt Fi can pull off the leather-and-whip outfit rather well. But I digress.
This results in two conclusions:
A. Sand wasn't going to start anything in the first place.
B. Fiona will use her domination to get the edge on Sand whenever she can.
We all know Act One of this tragedy... Fiona pulls an Eric on her sister, only she decided that she had to get real cute and hide HER rival in plain sight. Sans plague, too...but then again, Eric wasn't a spellcaster, so he had to rely on Mr. Flea and Mr. Phage to do the number on Corwin's brain. If I have not made this clear before now, let me do so for all to hear. Including you, dear Aunty Baba-yaga... Fiona shouldn't have been allowed to get away with that shit. Punishment for that kind of crime should be banishment at the very least. Can't put it any more plainly than that.
If I feel that strongly about the whole thing, then you can only imagine the feelings Sand harbors. She spent quite a bit of time as a professional shaft-squatter, down by the docks thanks to Fiona.

So that's where the motivation comes from.
Here's how I propose to fix this. If you think it's worth fixing. Which i'm not sure it is.
But here you go, Random. Consider.

Since the fight started over spellcaster pecking-order, Random should create an official position of "High ArchMage of Amber" or some crap.
The position will have 2 seats. Only two. One occupied by Fi, the other by Sand.
There will be only 2 conditions the witches would have to satisfy in order to keep the position.
A. The spellcasters must only act for the good of Amber.
B. In order for each spellcaster to retain her position - oh... I failed mention that, if either witch is stripped of the position, she would also be excecuted - the other spellcaster must remain alive.
The final stipulation is as follows: If the Monarch becomes aware of the two officholders engaging in any form of combat, lethal or non-lethal, both parties will be disqualified from office."

Flora

"My editor informs me that I should keep the four-letter words to a minimum. I would like to start out by stating that I can do that... however... when it comes to keeping four-letter-anythings to a minimum, my mother cannot. Let me be utterly frank here. My mother is trashy, trampy, slutty, slatternly, and may also be described - in the vernacular of motel-Earth - as a certain flat-bladed garden tool. However! I also want to let the record show that I would have no problem with that, if it were simply that. Being sexually ravenous is not something that any sane Amberite could really see as immoral. We are resistant to disease and almost totally infertile. We have the sexual appetites of rabbits on drugs, to start with. We can all walk to Shadows where we are viewed by the incredibly nubile public as a god/dess of fertility. My mother is simply more horny than most of our clan. However! If you're just horny, you should of course, have no problem scratchin' yer itch. But that should not occupy the entire vista of your being. In my mother's case... it does. What isn't taken up by romantic conquest, is filled in by preening and collecting incredibly sissy bits of sculpture. And she doesn't even do that with any seriousness or taste. My main problem is the fact that she, like the rest of us, owns a slice of the eternity pie. But she doesn't even think about spending ANY of it in any way that might further progress. She just... well... seems to spend ALL of it inviting others to eat her slice of the pie. Or whatever else they do. And they do. And when she's bored? She and my sister torture the Palace guard. Those guys can't be safe to guard the place. I mean, I shudder to think of the extra fluids they have to be drinking, just to be able to stand up straight at their posts. And yes. That WAS intended as a pun. If she would just regard f*cking her brains out as a HOBBY, rather than a career, I would be fine. You can even spend a LOT of time on a hobby, of you're one of us... but GEEZ. Then there's the fact that she refused to raise me. Ok, sure... fine. I know I do things to piss her off now. But she hated me with a clean slate! AND she left Dad in the lurch. I mean, he might as well have been knocked up, for all the practical outcome of the encounter. Even then, I could have looked at it as a blessing in disguise - and indeed... I actually do... that she didn't raise me herself. But, you know... one might think that she discarded me because she didn't know what to do with a male child. But no. That line of logic has a counter-point. It has wings. I fully admit that I have a kind of hang-up with this. I am, of course, exaggerating it for the purposes of this interview. I'm over it, really... but when you think about it, she really acted like a cast-iron bitch. "No... I think I'll throw the firstborn son into the gutter and then go deliberately make a cute one. And raise it in full view of number one." It really lost her all the lingering respect I had for her. And do you wanna know what really pisses me off? I am totally certain that she has no idea that she did anything at all wrong. Not a bit. She seems to feel like I should be her grateful, dutiful, loving son, just like Bastion was. However! Instead of being immature and calling her names, or publicly humiliating her, or - oh... wait. Ok. Umm... in addition to all of that... If something every goes horribly wrong and I knock up some Shadow broad... guess which Granny will get to babysit EVERY weekend? Ohyeah. I think that will heal some wounds. I might even give the kid Ex-Lax before I drop it off. And feed it something with a lot of protein. Brings a tear to your eye thinking about it... Oh... and Mother? If you get a hold of this interview? Sorry about the big words. Just sound them out. It'll all be ok."

Gerard

"What can I say about Dylana's old man... he was loyal, pleasant, patriotic... the size of the Goodyear Blimp after a drastic and unexpected drop in the surrounding air pressure... Seriously, though. He wasn't half bad. He wasn't half smart, either. All I have to say about that part of his character is that Amberites should only play checkers after a full lobotomy and a case of Zima."

Isbel

"Ok. I've been ragging on Julian and his sons being forest-queers. If you imagine them as the hillbilly, Ozark-Mountain-hick, gap-toothed wackos that they are... well, she would be the sweet little hillbilly chick that gets disowned by her family cuz she hooked up with a city-slicker. Substitute Chaosite for city-slicker. Substitute "only normal child to come out of Julian's seed" for "sweet little hillbilly chick". Do not substitute anything for the other hillbillies, because they are indeed hillbillies. I suppose she has to follow her heart and I suppose it would be anything to get away from Daddy and his forest... but did it have to be the enemy? Did it have to be squishy-man and his bag of shapeshifter tricks? Yeah. I'm being really lewd. But they are at it like rabbits let loose in a Viagra factory. You can't even call them on the Trump without catching them, whilst they are in the act itself. Well... maybe it'll blow over. Maybe he'll run off with a shroudling or something. Of course, there is no actual proof that "he" is even a "he." But I refuse to contemplate oozy shapeshifty lesbian action. Not on a full stomach. Or an empty stomach. At least I have a goddamn stomach. And only one, at that. So... in closing: stick to your own species, cuz. It'll be less socially unpleasant for everyone."

Jessica

"Hmmm... I think I would like to begin, ladies, gentlemen, and Amberites that may be reading, by voicing a rumor that I heard about Jessica. The rumor goes that she is, in fact, her father - who has learned how to shapeshift. Not that any of us doubted that he probably could, anyway. But you don't really want to ask him things like: "Hey. Why don't you just grow it back?" This may seem irrelevant, but I shall come to the point. I have no way of disproving that rumor... or indeed of shedding ANY doubt on it. That alone should tell you something about this chick. She is a hardass of the absolutely highest caliber. We are talking 18-wheeler-tanker-truck of whoopass. There is one rule you have to follow, if you want to feel safe in Amber castle - if that were possible: Do not f*ck with Jessica. There is an annex to that rule. It is as follows: Do not f*ck with Jessica. Previous to Benedict's death, there was a different rule: Do not f*ck with Benedict OR Jessica. There is another observation I would like to submit, having gone through all these repetitive rules. The current rule, and its annex do not seem to have ANY less weight of consequence than the one that existed before Benedict's demise. I think we may now be absolutely clear as to the level of no-joke body count that this woman can rack up before the photons coming off the dead hit your retinas. Having said ALL that, we come to the fact that that is really all that anybody knows about her. One is SO pre-occupied with awe and terror of her fighting ability that you don't even TRY to understand her character. We can all simply breathe sighs of relief and hope for the best, when it is mentioned that she is very much like her father."

Julian

"I once took a ride out to a sort-of medieval near-Earth-Shadow. Closer to Amber-side. It was basically a perversion of the Robin-Hood crap. There was this big, strapping, manly fellow, who rode around the forest with an enormous beast between his legs and killed things. I'm not sure if he actually gave anything to the poor, but it doesn't matter. I never understood exactly how much good a few pieces of gold per month were going to do a bunch of warty subsistence farmers in rural England, anyway... truly, were they going to pop down to the local Piggly-Wiggly Supermarket and buy food there? But anyway, the guy really was laughable. He was big, stupid, and a borderline queer. Ohyeah... and he looked a heckuvalot like Unkie Julian. Now, I am not saying anything absolute about any compensation issues that my uncle of the green green forest has going, but I will say that it really isn't my style. I don't see anything particularly masculine about blowing your horn all over the forest and sleeping under the same blanket with a pack of slobbering dogs. I would even think twice before going camping with the furry residents of my own Shadow. Have you ever smelled a wet Averickian? Now, I really wouldn't be tearing him apart like this, if he didn't seem to have an uncontrollable need to throw his rustic lifestyle in everyone's face, every time they show a foot in Arden. Arden is our front door, dammit, and I don't appreciate having to smell his dogs, his... I guess it's a horse... and his rangers, everytime I ride in or out. If we just walled up our Shadow, like I've always wanted to do, we wouldn't have to have him patrolling the whole border uselessly and continually. I mean, seriously... he isn't even that adept at sensing others' Shadow activity. The fact that you always run into him on your way in or out has to basically be coincidence. I'm fairly certain that things get in around his patrols. And yet, we have to put up with him thinking that he is king of a sovereign state of the Enchanted Forest. Heh. The only really endearing thing he's done lately is cut off moron son's breath allowance. But have no fear, Unkie! You've got Arwen to replace him! Yeah... I think he's gonna be spending even more time in the forest, now that she's clomping around the kingdom, trying to discard her awkward adolescence like a retarded snake shedding its skin. I really regret having not been able to meet this woman that Arwen was sired on. It would answer my real burning question about my Peter-Pan-uncle... which is: "Exactly how much of his problem is stupidity?" If Arwen's mom was a genius, then we may have our culprit as to the state of her mind. Then again, if she was a slack-jawed dullard, who couldn't control her impulses to the point where Julian didn't have to clock her on the head and drag her off by the hair, in order to do any siring... (I mean seriously... I can't imagine that he really is attractive to women. You gotta bathe, man) I have taken to disclaiming these little snippets, out of fear that this rather candid set of interviews will fall into unsafe hands - that is, the hands of my family. If Unkie Julian is reading this, I can probably expect to hear about it from him. So, I have this to excuse myself: If you throw a glass of wine in my face, you'll never hear the end of it. You just lived down the first one. On a parting note, I really resist picking that apart. I don't care if he kills me. I gotta say it. For as manly a man's man as he is, what kind of retribution is that? It's the kind of thing that Audrey Hepburn does to some no-name cad in innumerable black-and-white movies... not really the most masculine kind of response to a slight on his honor. There is one more thing I want to get off my chest, where this uncle is concerned. I am sure that all of you remember Corwin's list of opinions of his relatives. Right when he was telling Merlin how crazy the universe is, after Patternfall. Well, the part that sticks in my head about Julian is where he is blathering on about how Julian has changed from the arrogant ass that he used to be. He mentions that he's grown a sense of honor or somesuch paraphrase. He puts it: "...an addition to your armory of traits I'll not disparage." Uh-huh. I have a problem with the syntax here. I will, by no means, dispute that Unkie Julian has an armory. How could I, when I've seen so much of it, over the years, usually with the hafts protruding from the hides of some more-or-less innocent woodland creatures? It's that word... traits that I take issue with. As far as I have seen, Unkie Julian barely qualifies to pluralize that word. If he does have 2 traits, they would seem to be:

He hunts when he's awake.
When he's not, he sleeps under a bearskin rug, dreaming about hunting.

I think that's all."

Jurt

"There is a theory going around (which I dispute violently at all opportunities) that Chaos also produces vibrations of influence which spread out into Shadow, just as far as Amber's do - creating Shadow people and things. However, if this idea were true, we would know precisely why Jerry Lewis exists on Shadow Earth. As Chaosites go, he should be one of the ones who I hate the most - because he is so fundamentally spiteful. As it is, I can only find a sort of sardonic pity for this one. Every time Merlin so much as breathes in his direction he starts losing bits of extremities like a palm leaves in a cold front. What I don't understand is why the poor bastard can't just grow them the f*ck back! I mean, did he just get ALL the dominant genes from Benedict's wayward sperm? Hell, he's four generations out from him! Maybe he's smarter than we give him credit for and he really does grow them back and just sucks them back in again, when we're around, in order to illicit sympathy. Whatever. As long as he leaves me alone."

Kali

"Hmmmm... what kinda strange-ass Shadow did Gerard have to dig up to get the genes for this one? The thing is, Gerard is very slow and calculating (like an abacus with biceps), wheras this daughter seems to favor the berserker style of combat. Whether or not she actually paints herself blue and fights in her birthday suit is yet for me to witness. Personally, I never understood the fighting naked thing. As a distraction, I really don't think it'll work... although it could just be one of the few positive traits I inherited from Mom that I do not find blood to be a turn-on... at least I assume..."

Kashfa

"I've never been to hell either, don't tell me you've got a brochure for it, too... I'm not as big a sucker as you've obviously heard, honey. "

Kaylana

"My earliest opinion of her was that she was another "Snotty-Nosed Childe of His Most Royal Highness." End of story. That is, until our most recent meeting. She had succeeded in evading a terrorist from a particularly nasty sect of Chaos - and, upon our arrival, had no objection to finishing off that enemy with no small amount of flair. I am also heartened by her dim opinion of her idiot brother. In short, she has potential.

I really have to applaud Vialle's ovaries and Random's testicles on this one. I really do. Good job all around. And I'll get the controversial part over with right at the start: Random! Make this chick your heir. And make her accept it. I'm totally serious. I would kneel and give my allegiance to this girl, if Random got shot through the brains tomorrow. I feel a list coming on. These are my official list of good points about Random's pride and joy...

She isn't a stuck-up little bitch-ass princess with a chip on her shoulder big enough to replace the counterweight on my tower's freight elevator.
She is a very practical, downright clever piece of upper-tier-royalty, who can handle the duties that come with that like a pro.
She is relatively homicidal. No soft-on-crime, soft-on-terrorism, soft-on-morons sensibilities here. *cough* Kurt *cough* (just to be flippant, Kurt was actually a criminal, a terrorist, and a moron)
She is, seemingly, entirely too useful to actually be related to Kurt and Mercury. By useful, I mean pragmatically useful, in the sense of actually getting things done, rather than looking like you are.
She is also one of the very tiny minority, among the ranks of our family, who retains a sense of humor. Yes. We are gods. No. That doesn't mean that everything we do, including taking a crap is serious business. Truly, most of the elders only really let go with a big belly laugh, when we are torturing someone to death.
Even though she outranks yours truly, she has never actually pulled rank on me. I appreciate that. She has made no attempt to force me to conform to antiquated court manners and modes of behavior that we think we invented, but really got borrowed from Shadow and brought in by Eric or some shit...

In conclusion, there is only one point of unpleasantness to list...

She will use all of the traits stated above to slither, duck, dig, and fight her way out from under the crown, should Random ever offer it to her."

Kessalia

"On the one hand, I really have to admire her rebellion. Rock on, sister... cousin... whatever. Love the biker thing, but it just isn't my scene. Cracking skulls and burning rubber is all well and good, but if you don't have a stock portfolio to come home to at night, it just doesn't seem worthwhile. On the other hand, she scares the shit outta me."

Kurt

"Chaosite-bait. If Random ever asks my advice about this one, it will be "Hang his ass on Ygg and let them just come and get him, 'cause if he ever takes the throne, that's what's gonna happen." He has all of Gerard's bad points and none of his father's good points. If I didn't REALLY REALLY know better, I'd suspect that he's actually a son of Caine."

Llewella

"Ummm... any of those of us familiar with Shadow earth, during the boob-tube dynasty, will remember the scrubbing-bubbles commercials. If you remove all the personality from those little bastards, leaving just their habits (i.e, running around in the water and getting slightly foamy), then you've pretty much summed up Aunt Llewella. She drowned. Makes me wish the Pattern WAS sentient, just so I could congratulate it on THAT particular joke."

Mages in General...

"The main beef I have with the Arts, is the fact that it is so difficult to clearly and deftly apply magic to business. What a nightmare it would be to apply copyright laws to spells... you can't even do decent quality-control, since the damn things don't ever come out quite the same way. Still, I am not a total neophyte, when it comes to sorcery. I just don't trust my entire being to it. A great many of my cousins and aunts/uncles are highly proficient at spellcasting. They are VERY useful... but if you don't talk the talk, they don't hand you their secrets."

Mandor

"Ok. I will be as brutally honest as I have tended to be in this dialogue. This one is one of the ones that scares the supercalifragalisticekspiala-CRAP outta me. We will not dwell on the fact that he is a Chaosite pig. All those who have been listening would consider that to be redundant - and just this once, I shall oblige you. But only because there is so much else to say. He's mean, he's sneaky, he's crafty, he's a spellcaster, he can cook and has extensive knowledge of interior design, he has impeccable manners and balls of steel. As if that were not enough, he is currently putting his magestaff into Auntie Fi... who is another of the ones that scare me. I stay out of his way and out of his Ways - at least until I get a spikard and Auntie comes to her senses."

Martin

"Finally, a useful Prince. All you have to do is save his ass from eternal boredom, shoved up a virtual-reality sensory depravation tank and he'll open up the scientific and military expertise of his personal Shadow to you and yours. Well... to his credit, we already got along pretty well before I had to rescue his ass. He doesn't have a head for business, but he knows how to get things done."

Martin's Shadow

"I kinda like it. It�s like shadow Earth, but with a cover charge and a bouncer...with a mohawk.

It's actually fairly close to mine. That congruency rule coming into play again... Our Shadows have very similar "recipes": high technology and magic coexisting, urban sprawl, gullible residents, etc. His is just slightly more violent than mine... The violent aspect is why I thought to call Martin about the armor. I do not intend to have my head turned into a wall-decoration. So I dragged the others there. He seems to have a multifaceted research facility going, in the main city, where he's the head-honcho. This came as somewhat of a surprise to me... I'd thought his interests were somewhat limited to music, bad haircuts, and the various exploits of the punk-rocker. He was more than happy to measure us for the armor and was able to produce it in an extremely short time. He wasn't even miffed, when the horses expressed a desire for high-tech barding."

Medea

"Anybody ever read that play? Yeah. You in the back. Uh-huh. I personally like the version where she boils up the kiddies and feeds 'em to Jason. Top-notch entertainment. But here's the doosie... Fiona don't do shit for no reason. If she gives a daughter a name like that, she's probably going to encourage the girl to live up to it. To take a leaf from the motion-picture culture of motel-Earth: "I will call her... mini-bitch." Now, she hasn't done anything untoward or Fiona-like to me personally. But neither has the queen harpy. And, on a personal level, I am really fond of both mother and daughter... but I also understand the ever-present fact that if they needed my balls for their witches brew, they wouldn't bother asking first. So I shall respect and even admire them... but from a little bit of distance.. and I prefer not to sleep in the same room with them."

Mercury

"Take Random, remove all of his experience and dignity, strip him of his dress sense, and go to work on his poker-face with a real poker. Still, I kinda like the guy."

Merlin

"My cousin. Son of Corwin. King of Chaos. He chose the wrong side... and he considers his whiney AI to be is own son. I have doubts about his sanity, and regret the fact that he lost it so early. We could've been great allies. Now he's dragging his feet on the terrorist issue, and THAT pisses me off."

Morgan

"My first impression of the man, as a small child, was that he had a head bigger than a breadbox. To my consternation, I was later to learn that it was also similar to a breadbox in its contents. Thought of him has made me feel like conversing in monosyllables and sentence fragments (betcha he couldn't say that five times fast... but that's not fair. He never says anything fast). But here we go: Morgan. Bigass. Big-everything. Strong as an ox on crack. Heart of gold. Just like his daddy. Can hardly spell Daddy. Ok. Enough of that crap. My forebrain was getting bored. Anyway, none of that would matter to me - but that he seems to have taken it into his head to beat me into submitting to the ridiculous analogue of Golden-Circle-Shadow-culture that he feels that we Amberites are somehow bound to obey. We are gods and can do whatever we please. But not while he's around. He insists that you play fair and doesn't play around with that. If it weren't for my recent alliance with his sister, I might have killed him already. Well... that and the fact that Corwin and Random were both all gooey and sentimental over his father. Well... So long as I can outwit him and save myself undue pain, we can live and let grunt."

Morgenstern

"You mean the Sherman-tank with horseshoes? I stay the hell outta it's way. I prefer a mount that I can mount without a pogo stick. Other than that, I've nothing against the beast. I respect Julian's affinity for biological Shadow-play, but I really think he should move on to other applications..."

Niobe

"Dy said it best: "She's Jurt-get" This ditzy, Chaos-spawned, little bundle of annoyance has no respect for Amber. She couldn't even recognize the King when he came to see if she was a marauder. She jets around with an inferior Broken-Pattern imprint as if it's a big practical joke...or an extreme sport. She an idiot at best, an enemy at worst.

You have to hand it to her. She really does make you think. Mainly, she makes you think, "Why is she irritating me? And why does she seem to think that the situation is vice versa?" She also makes you think things like "Why does she run around, using Broken-Pattern for thrills? Can she really be that bonkers?" Then again, she seems to be closer to the Amberite side of the universe than a great many of her peers. She even seems to be a fan of mine. She keeps running into me on the road and then claiming that I ran into her. I could do without mutant groupies, thank you. I think she turns into a wolf, when she's ticked off or constipated or attending a Chaosite court ceremony, or whatever. Like a dire wolf with tits or something. Call me a bigot if you gotta, but that really just bothers me, on a sort of primal level. Ok, yeah, maybe it isn't as bad as I sometimes make it out... my mother seems to turn into an animal at least that often, but I stand by my grossed-out-ness with regard to Chaosites. The most shocking thing about her is the fact that she has the Chaosite's chairman-of-the-board, Merlin himself, wrapped around her little finger... paw... tentacle, whatever. I mean, he literally dropped what he was doing, left his office and came through her Trump, and handled the situation personally, when I'd captured her as a suspected terrorist. That's just whipped, Merlin. Whipped. Not even Julia had you strapped down like that. Ok, maybe she did, but that's your private business. But, yeah. Niobe has done a serious pretty-little-wolf-girl job on the Prince of Chaos. It's more sad than anything else. Maybe she'll grow out of it, maybe he will, but until that whole thing quits she's an undue influence on an already messed up court system. That really sums up my knowledge of where Niobe fits into the social structure of the Courts. Not that I really care to know much more than that. On to what, out of perversity, I may start calling "Chet's Personal Feelings Corner" Yeah. Stick yer finger down your throat when ya say that. I don't have a lot to fill the page with on this one. I really don't. Getting to know Chaosites on a personal, emotional level has never been one of my highest ambitions. More like, getting to know Chaosites on a violent, blood-spattering level. I can only reiterate that this Chaos-chick is tilting dramatically to the freaky side - and that she may or may not be stalking me. Ok. Maybe that's ego-maniacal. She could be stalking Dy or Arwen. That's about it."

The Patternfall Treaty

"First, a disclaimer:

Bill. Don�t read this. Just don�t. I consider you to be one of my fathers. I like you. I respect you. You taught me how to make deals. We just make them differently.

Ok. Now that that�s out of the way (Bill, I�m telling you, stop reading now... you�ll regret it) I can get on with what I wanted to say...

My opinions of the Wishy-Washy-Doctrine-of-Harmoious-Ass-Kissing-And- Mutual-Loss-of-Self-that-Is/Was-the-Patternfall-Treaty:

Ok. Let me lay down the basics of the piece of shit that Bill was forced to draft (Bill... I TOLD you... ).

It wasn�t really the Chaosites fault. It was ALL Brand�s fault. All of it.
Everybody gives back everybody else�s land and prisoners and shit.
Everybody shakes hands, swears that they will never never ever again so much as raise their voices at one another and that they will try very hard to get Dworkin and Suhuy into couples therapy.
Merlin gets dual status in both camps. This was probably the longest piece of writing in the whole document.
An open-ended demand for Corwin to write Dara an apology note about the whole Borel thing, then read it to the rest of the class... or they�ll both have to take a trip down to the principal�s office.
Recommendations by Amber�s interior decorators about where it would be best to place those fake-o shrines to Benedict.
A full and complete promise not to launch any kind of investigation whatsoever, into any acts of terrorism committed by the agents of Chaos.
Probably some XXXOOXXXOO�s at the bottom of the document, along with an invitation to a formal tea party.

Bull... SHIT! This �treaty� needs to be given a set of juevos, as soon as possible."

Random

"The man. The top banana. The big cheese. The commander-in-chief. I have absolutely no problem with this. From all the primary sources - that is, the elders - that I have probed (with the exclusion of my mother... I shudder at the thought), I get the idea that he is doing a MUCH better job of it than Oberon. He's even been letting up on me lately."

Rebma/the Rebmans

"Rebmans are just good for novelty wigs.

While we're on the subject, anything with green nipples is usually dead."

Lord Rein

"Dear ol' Dad... I know I'll always be a dissapointment to him. I think he truly believes that satyrs, or fauns, or some other such critters swapped me for his musically-inclined infant. Oh well. To tell you the truth, I'm not UNinclined, per se... the life of the minstrel just didn't interest me as much as he wanted it to. Oh well. He didn't bitch about it as much as he could have, to his credit. He really tried, too... and he never tried to pretend that I wasn't an accident."

Remora

"What can I say, sis? It's too late for you to be any less flaky than our mother. Very much so. I can never resist making fun of Remora... and I'm just so DAMN GOOD AT IT. If she'd simply realize that I'm only telling it like it is, maybe she wouldn't hate my guts. It is just asking for the pointy end of my wit, to allow it to be known that she and Mother are... pulling the night shift with the same guard."

Rinaldo

"Shame about his dad. Well... let me be very clear on that point. It is also a shame about my mother - but she is not dangerous... unless you are un-related and have a set of male bed-tackle. It is a shame about his dad, because he got raised by a person whom is really my psychological equivalent of Adolf Hitler. It is simply a mercy that der fuhrer was an impotent little queer. I mean... can you imagine the trouble his brats would have had, if they'd survived? Even if they hadn't been warped at all by his bullshit? Yeah, every so often, the question of whether or not Hitler REALLY didn't have any spawn comes up... but anyone stupid enough to claim that lineage clearly doesn't understand the bias that's gonna come with that whole deal. So... sorry cuz. You really do seem ok. Really. But you did scare everybody, when you locked Merlin in a cave. So I'm just not gonna take any chances by buddying up too close to Adolf Jr. It ain't personal, but I ain't stupid. Like I said. Big-ass, tentacled, nasty motherf*cker of a shame - because it really seems like we'd get along, me and him. He's a salesman. I'm an engineer and ultra-capitalist. But we just won't be buying the same stocks 'til he proves himself a lot more than he has so far."

Bill Roth

"Bill. The lawyer. The thing from Planet Earth. To him, the halls and cobblestone streets of the immortal city were, and always will be... anachronistic, low-tech. He imparted this perspective to me every time he moaned about missing "microwaves", "TV", moving vehicles that never farted at you... When you hear about this stuff as a little kid, it really opens up your perspective. I owe my love of progress and my sound business sense to this man."

Rowena

"Bleys lent his seed for the production of a three-ring circus. He really did. A three-ring circus that can double as an army. This one seems to be the artillery division and human-cannonball act. If I ever break down and decide to make time to learn Shadow magic, in order to compliment my mastery over the pattern, I'll probably bribe her to teach me. She's probably almost as adept as Fiona's daughter and she likes skulls. I don't know why I find that so absolutely groovy, but I do. Go figure. Of course, I do indeed rib her about her skulls, her candles and her druidic bent... but that is to be expected."

Sand

"She is one of the ones, with whom I am truly impressed. You know how a lot of people have an experience in their childhood, in which an aunt or uncle or grandmother seemed to be so much cooler than your parents. This is mainly because they did not have to raise you or any of the little brats. Sand is kind of like that. She's every bit as competent - and then some - as the rest of the elders, but she will do flat-out non-elder things, such as not blabbing about things that I've done in her presence... that I had better not really talk about here... but she really isn't going to run off and tell Random, as if I were a snot-nosed twelve-year-old. I feel like I'm on an equal footing with her, as opposed to an unnatural state of servitude, which is where you stand with most of the elders. On the other hand, she could still wipe the floor with me one-handed. But it's the feeling I'm talking about here. It probably comes from the fact that she and her brother were the proverbial red-headed-stepchildren of the original family. Well... the redheads might take offence to that, but I don't care. Bleys wouldn't have and he's dead. The way she got jerked around is yet another shining example of why this family should be run... well... the way I want it to be run. It is far too f*cking late for me to quit being candid. But the damage was done... and boy was it done. I have my fears as to the true depth of Sand's psychological damage. I would not be so worried as I am, were she not currently being relied on so heavily by the realm - and, as usual, quite thankless-ly. Of course, I have also called on her services in recent times... but I made sure to thank her, and she has come calling on me to clear the debt. So I consider my exchanges with her to be some of the healthiest in the history of her relationship with the family. And it's not only because I have a personal fondness for her. I also realize two other things:

She is Amber's second-greatest sorceress. And that is by a thin margin, as far as I can see. We want her on our side.
More than anyone else in the family, who is currently still ON our side, she has been in critical danger of being driven OUT.

Her brother seems to have been very like her in many ways. If the family had done things any better, we could have had two big guns like Sand. More frighteningly, had we done very much WORSE at all, we could have had two Delwins chomping on our flanks. Lots of elders dropped the ball on that one. Lots of them. Including Grandpa and Beardy. But we squeaked by. I just want to make sure we continue to do so. So... thumbs up to Sand, whenever you see her. But give her some space. Hmmm... my editor is expressing slight confusion... "Beardy" is my current sarcasm for Dworkin. Give her space because she just pulled out the Hunt, picked it up by one end and beat her brother to pulp with it. That is the last thing she needs on top of the rest of her scars. But are they going to listen to me? No. They are probably going to just ignore me, because they think I'm going nuts, because they don't think I ever talk about or think about anybody's feelings. I'm not going soft. And they can all still kiss my red-and-blue, you-know-what... but they're still not gonna listen to me. I am so alone."

Santiago

"I met him once. I think I will make another comparison. Let's say you are going to make four servings of some really spicy Indian dish. And you only have so much paprika. Well... you would think that you would give each dish an equal amount. But that's if there's a sentient mind at work. Whatever hands out the chromosomes is either stupid, non-sentient, or demented. Bleys had a great, whopping deal of paprika. That is why he was such a crippling loss to us. Only one I'll say I loved... and did he ever sprinkle his paprika around. But, somehow, he got a really big clump of it to land in one place. So the triplets are a swinging bunch of chicks. But there's only that one can of hot stuff. And four plates. I hope his sisters don't torture him too badly. And I really don't mean to be insulting. But there it is. Of course, I could be totally wrong and I just caught him at an odd moment. But he'll have to look me up to prove me wrong. I'm busy."

Suhuy

"This is one of those instances, where I feel that I have to defend my views to the public. I grew up thinking of Chaos as an uneasy, cold-war kind of enemy. They also had a connotation of the legions of Hell. Therefore, Suhuy really would be the equivalent of Satan. The only real difference is the fact that the Christians really think that they know a good deal about their Prince of Darkness. All we know about Mr. Suhuy "I can wipe out a whole Shadow, just by pissing on it" of Chaos is that he looks like Dworkin and seemed to have taken Merlin under his wing. Probably literally. Yeah. To most of my peers, both in Amber and the Courts, he's just that old man that hangs around the palace and really controls just about everything, but geez, ya'know he's just so goshdarn cute a geezer that you gotta just let him do his thing. Hell, guys, I object to our geezer being in that position. You better believe I take some serious issue with this old fart. I say they should give us the particulars of his title, his f*cking last name, his familial relationship to the rest of the courts, his duties, his demonform, and if they really feel diplomatic, make him put back all those Shadows he toasted, while he was teaching Merlin to... well... toast Shadows. Other than that, I guess I'm okay with him. I also do not know anything about his personality... and I really don't want to. "

Trump Artistry

"Ok. Here�s the deal. I�m not an artist. I do drafting, design, presice drawing...so you�d think I�d be a perfect candidate for the trump manufacturing process...no such luck. Apparently it�s more of an impressionistic style than I am likely to lean towards. Damn imprecise, if you ask me. There has to be a way to produce them by photography..."

Tsia

"I met her once. Sort of. She didn't exactly meet her rather abrupt end with much in the way of dignity. But I don't think Sand gave a shit. I certainly didn't. I was just glad when Sand got it over with and I didn't have to hear her whimpering anymore. At least I didn't have to talk to her. Making small talk with someone in that position only serves to give you useless guilt-crap and other types of emotional baggage. Sure... I don't like seeing people executed - but I have no reason to disbelieve Sand's story. And, boy... did the little moron-bitch deserve it. Besides, if I'd made any arguments for clemency, I think Sand would have destabilized. Hey. If it's my nuts or Tsia's dopey little life... well... sorry hon. Nice not knowing ya. "

Valerian

"Hooooo-boy. There's one for the record books. There's one for the funny-pages. You gotta be kidding me, man. Of all the ways to get your ass rubbed out. This one was just too dumb to keep livin'. As it was, I didn't have the heart to tell Daddy on him. But it came out in the end. And I didn't even get to use it as a bargaining chip. Of course, he didn't have anything I wanted. I mean, he was one of the afore-mentioned forest-pansies. What was he gonna do? Kill me up some varmints? "Here cuzzzzin Chet! Ahhhh keeeeled youz a skunk! Heeeyuk heeeeeyuk-yuk" Yeah. Puh-leeeez. I heard his death was pretty quick. It would have had to be quicker than he was... "Heeeyuk""

Vanity

"For once, and it probably will be just once, I have nothing but praise. Nothing points to the unpleasant with this one. First of all, she is the spawn of my favorite relative. All that I might've had of familial love truly was used up on Unkie Bleys. So I'm predisposed - so long as the spawn takes after him. And to all appearances, she does. She dresses like Wonder-woman, she has her father's wit and isn't bothering me about being insensitive in my investigation and wreaking of vengeance concerning her father's demise. I'd welcome her help, but so long as she doesn't pretend any emotional crap, like we Barimens are a real honest-to-god Earth-family that grieves normally and gets sensitive about crap like talking frankly about the dead, I am more than satisfied. "

Vialle

"Touching, really. Family reunion and funeral all wrapped into one. I think Vialle was kinda fond of me... on a completely unrelated note, she never talked to me that much."

Zane

"Lemme start this one off by voicing my bigotry about guys who live in the forest, so that they can kill things IN the forest without having to bother riding out TO the forest... and then claim that they are tree-huggers who LOVE the forest, whenever you so much as suggest putting a railroad through it. That seems to be hypocrisy to me, but there - I said it. However, as big, manly-man, tree-huggin, animal-killin', ranger-types go, Zane is ok. At the very least, he is a whole helluvalot smarter than his asshole brother. Since I occupy that position in my own nuclear family, I guess I owe him some kinda passing respect. Probably. If I have the time. But he doesn't seem to reciprocate, so the likelihood of me actually having that time becomes less and less likely. Maybe I'll let him have a job as a toll-booth-filler, when I finally have my way with the mighty forest."