Havelock’s Trumps
As issued to all PCs
at the time of the departure from the Courts of Chaos
Benedict: A tall, dour man rests posed on a stool,
not quite relaxed in his posture, yet it is not the formality of the sitting
that provides tension. The figure’s court garb is of orange, yellow and brown
with the sleeve folded back over his foreshortened right arm. He is a warrior
but no weapon is visible on his person. The only weapon in the picture is a
spear apparently mounted on the otherwise blank wall behind the sitter, above
his left shoulder. It is hard not to get the impression though that it is in fact
poised to pierce him from collar to hip. Otherwise the only other object is a
crown, very similar to Amber’s own, which lies upon a second stool, within easy
reach on his left. It looks as though it waits for another, placing this
champion at their right hand.
Bleys: He stands dressed
casually in his colours behind a desk. He is resting forward on his knuckles as
if looking up at the viewer. In the shadow behind him a chair can be seen. Both
the desk and chair are of polished dark red wood with fittings of rich, crimson
leather with gold trim. An emerald green cape hangs on one corner of the chair.
In the foreground three items lie
on the desk. To his right there is a large goblet filled with dark wine. Close
inspection shows the artist,
Caine: He rests against the bulwark of a ship currently alongside
in port. The city skyline of the port is dotted with domes and minarets. His
tanned skin shows as he wears a loose, open neck shirt of green silk and a long
black sirwal. In his hands are a dagger and
part-carved figure of a white wooden horse, the head not yet complete. He
appears to be repairing a chess set whose black pieces are arrayed on the side.
The black king stands undamaged whilst at least two pawns and a bishop lie
broken around it. The line of his vision is down towards the side, it is not
clear whether at the pieces or down to the pier. He looks wary.
Constance: A willowy woman of middling height holds the bridle of a
black horse. Black wavy hair frames slightly slanted, violet eyes, which gleam
delightedly from a strikingly beautiful face. She wears green with metallic
copper trim as some sort of well-cut uniform, suggesting an officer, but any
insignia are hidden by a faintly shimmering cloak of violets and greys. A
scabbard hangs from the woman's belt and a bow and a quiver hang at the saddle.
She stands in light but behind her is a dark forest. There is a glimpse of a
Fae trilithon amongst the trees to the left. Off to the right is a distant city
barely visible in a haze.
Corwin: It is twilight and an ebony-haired man stands in moonlight,
framed within the ruins of a once great gothic hall. His emerald eyes reflect a
look of contemplative remembrance. Whether the memories are good or ill is not
obvious. The celestial radiance makes the silvery shirt he wears glisten and
also reflects off of the hilt and scabbard of the sword at his side. As a
result the metal has a fiery blue sheen in stark contrast to the black trousers
against which it rests. A tunic with silver rose buttons, but otherwise
matching these trousers lies crumpled in the grass at his feet.
There are dark stains on his
hands. He seems to have been digging in the earth as his left hand grips a
soiled circlet with a rose motif, whilst his right holds a pair of rusty spurs.
Beyond him, to the left and right, pointed arches can still be seen supporting
the ivy clad remains of walls. Tendrils of hoary mist swirl around this broken
stonework. Above the scene circle a pair of ravens.
Dara: A slender young woman crouches in the square of some
desolated city. She is dressed for travelling in a thigh length, burgundy and
black brocade coat, which flares as she hunkers down, revealing dark red velvet
breeches. A matching brocade tricorn with yellow gold trim and a black plume
tops her close-cropped brown hair. Although the coat's black fur collar is
turned up protectively it does not conceal the vibrant yellow silk scarf which
blooms visibly around her neck. In her right hand is the long steel needle of a
bared smallsword. With her freckled face turned
down, her dark eyes are examining the statue of an ancient warrior, fallen onto
the cobbles. The fingers of her off hand sparkle as they caress where the
figure’s right arm has fractured away. Behind her a choice of overgrown streets
leads away from the square between the shells of buildings.
Darig: The setting sun shines on an ageless man, green eyed and
with golden blond hair seated on the branch of a great tree with one leg on the
branch, one hanging down. The tree is part of a wood, glimpsed behind his left
shoulder, where perhaps the trees have faces. To his right the country is more
open.
He wears a shirt of red-gold mail
and ornate vambraces of the same metal. The rest of
his equipment is plain in shades of red, yellow and orange. A silver rose
brooch can be seen at his throat. He carries an axe, a long knife and holds a
drawn sword. Hanging nearby is a Celtic style shield. In the shadows behind him
it seems that a spear rests against the tree but in fact it is made up of the
intricacies of the bark, its head a space between a branch and the main trunk.
A large army is just visible in the distance under an Oriflamme
banner.
Deirdre: A woman in a black frock stands amidst the neatly
manicured bushes of a formal garden. Her dress fabric, shot through with
occasional strands of silver thread, is lustrous instead of dour, and subtle
silver trim completes the vibrant costume. Her gaze falls to where her left
hand cradles one of the silver-white roses of the nearest rosebush. Meanwhile
her right loosely holds a long knife. A grass clearing lies between the garden
and the wall that forms the scene’s backdrop. Upon which a tiger cub and
panther are playing with a silver orb.
Dirk: The overwhelming impression of this card is blackness: a
swarthy man with black hair and dark eyes smiles from the deck of a ship,
framed by a black sail and a night sky. He is dressed mainly in black with
tough leather jack and vambraces and toys with a
dagger. He looks a lot like Caine.
Dworkin: In the darkness just before dawn a hunchback figure squats
down, resting his haunches on his heels. Square on, he faces the viewer, brightly
illuminated from the floor to his front by a blazing electric blue
incandescence. The source is not visible, being beyond the foreground. Amongst
the shadows that that iridescence casts onto the rough rock backdrop, can be
discerned the shades of both a dancing Unicorn and a human figure. Over his
beaked nose the maestro seems to watch the figure walking amidst the offstage
lightning. His weathered face, framed by wild grey hair and beard, reveals a
mixture of insane revelation and artistic genius.
He wears a once fine robe of
orange and purple, embroidered with snake designs, now faded and marked by
sweat. The serpent’s head buckle of the belt is particularly disfigured. Over
the belt the robe is girded up. Sleeves torn away, the visible hands and arms
are darkly stained. His right arm is raised, fist clenched, hiding an unseen
object. Yet, a ruby glow leaks between his fingers and three large trails of
blood seep from within down his elevated arm. A closed Trump case lies
discarded on the coarse ground beside him.
Elektra: In the light of dawn a teenage girl dashes across a scree
slope of slate shards against a background dominated by solid dark grey rock
face. The look on her face, framed with ash blond hair, seems intent on her
run, whether in exercise or flight. Her emerald green eyes contrast noticeably
with her pale complexion. Dressed for ease of motion, she wears only a simple,
off white, Doric chiton and sandals. The chiton, secured around her waist by a
red and white belt, leaves her arms exposed to the shoulder and long legs bare
from mid-thigh down. Strapped in scabbard on her back is a Celtic style shortsword
with an anthropomorphic copper hilt. Some distance behind her the statue of an
armoured woman sticks up out of the scree. At its
foot a panoply made of slate lies discarded. The
figure would look towards the girl, and viewer, were her own weeping face not
buried in her hands.
Fiona: A picnic rug rests on a lawn at a river’s edge. Fiona sits
at ease on it, positioned so her legs are partially tucked under, and her hands
hold a needlepoint frame on her lap. The image in that frame is of another
redhead. Her gaze is up and she smiles warmly towards the artist. She wears a vivid
blue dress, cut in the fashion of an Edwardian lady. Matching gloves lie beside
her. An inlayed wooden sewing box, two glasses and a jug of lemonade also lie
on the rug. By lighting it appears a bright summer’s day, yet the gentle waft
of Fiona’s coppery hair shows there is a light breeze. Another sign of this is
the kingfisher floating in this zephyr whilst it bends the reeds and bulrushes
that line the riverbank. The background stretches away into a formal garden.
Havelock: Thick coppery hair and pointed beard frame twinkling
blue-grey eyes and a broad grin. Dressed for riding, his slashed doublet is red
with white and both it and the white silk shirt beneath gape open revealing his
chest. Around his neck a plain copper ring hangs on a leather thong. He stands
part turned with his left arm concealed, but a sword hilt still visibly
protrudes from over his left hip. His right arm extends towards the viewer,
with the hand loosely cradling a drained chalice. Thrust into his belt on the
right is a fine brush and next to this dangles a battered leather couriers
pouch. This satchel is clearly marked with small dabs of paint.
Julian: He sits on a rearing Morgenstern in a woodland clearing,
his posture in perfect balance with his mount’s motion. Man and horse are three
quarter turned in aspect to the viewer’s right. He is clad in white scale
armour and grips a raised hunting spear mid-shaft. As sunlight pierces the
forest boughs above, it creates a broad contrast of light and shade. He is well
lit as if he has carried brightness with him into a dark place. Hanging from the
huntsman’s pommel is a falconer’s glove. His attention is on a deformed figure,
garbed in tattered rags, in the right foreground and with a piercing gaze he
seems to pin it to the ground. He threatens the twisted form with the inclined
head of his spear as it cowers beneath pitching hooves. Large hounds crouch in
the shadows of Morgenstern’s hind legs snarling, but dutifully remain at heel
now their master’s prey is at bay.
Llewella: A young woman floats upright, her jade gaze evoking a
sense of sadness. Almost three quarters of her is visible with her reverse
echoed in a full length, oval dressing mirror suspended behind her. Drifting
globes illuminate the aquatic scene and beyond these the waters rapidly darken
into shadow. Other vertical, drifting mirrors are depicted, several seen only
as reflections. Due to their positioning an image of the artist should be
visible, yet at that point a discerning viewer sees only another mirror.
The lady wears a gown of lavender
shot through with both green and grey. Concealed weights must draw both it and
her cascades of dark green hair down. The wet fabric clings to her form,
clearly delineating her figure, whilst a broad lavender belt cinches her waist,
further defining her curves. In her right hand is long spindle, wrapped in
grey-green silken thread.
To the right, resting on uprising
lavender coral stands a large weaving frame of polished driftwood. The tapestry
on it is barely started, only the image of a queen’s crown being visible.
Margrath: He stands relaxed before a wide tree trunk. His blond
hair falls down over his shoulders. His face is thin, but with a softness to the features. He wears a robe of brown with
green trim and his frame beneath the robe looks thin rather than stout. His
right hand holds a staff decorated with vines and leaves in green. His left
hand holds a crystal cup of clear water. His bright green eyes look slightly
downward, to the right. If the card is examined closely, one might get the
impression of, perhaps, a large spider sitting on his right shoulder, mostly
concealed by his hair.
Sorashi: A young woman, standing right of centre, showing a 3/4
profile. She looks straight ahead of her, with a neutral expression on her
face. She is
William:
A man stands before a walled town, obviously the scene of a recent battle from
the corpses and clouds of flies behind him. Yellow and blue silk can be seen
wherever spiked armour does not cover him, and he wears a well-used sword at
his belt. His head is bare, showing long, black curly hair with a hint of grey
at the temples. In his hands is a crimson flag on a stave which he waves;
perhaps as a signal, perhaps purely in defiance. The rain spatters to the
ground. High in the corner can be seen something with white wings against a
lone patch of blue sky.