I'm a soldier of freedom in the army of man
We are the chosen, we're the partisan
The cause it is noble and the cause it is just
We are ready to pay with our lives if we must

Gonna ride across the river deep and wide
Ride across the river to the other side

I'm a soldier of fortune, I'm a dog of war
And we don't give a damn who the killing is for
It's the same old story with a different name
Death or glory, it's the killing game

Gonna ride across the river deep and wide
Ride across the river to the other side

Nothing gonna stop them as the day follows the night
Right becomes wrong, the left becomes the right
And they sing as they march with their flags unfurled
Today in the mountains, tomorrow the world

Gonna ride across the river deep and wide
Ride across the river to the other side




Tim is the son of Gérard and a barmaid from Amber City named Jocelyn.  She worked at the White Horse Inn, and he drank there.  He was a Prince of Amber with an itch in his pants and she was perfectly willing to scratch it. 

And so...Timothy.  Though not terribly interested in  marriage, Gérard supported Jocelyn and her son and made no secret of his relationship to them.  When Tim was old enough his dad brought him to the Pattern and somehow talked him into walking the damn thing.  Gérard encouraged his boy to explore but after a short trip into Shadow Tim showed little interest in leaving home again.  Instead, he joined the city guard.  

Despite the end of parents' relationship, Timothy and his father have always been close, and Tim eventually got used to seeing his father with other women.  It never bothered him.  In fact, he was impressed.  The result is that he's an incorrigible flirt and has a tendency to sleep around.  A lot.  He loves women in a very physical sense of the word.  Married, unmarried, young and nubile, mature and experienced, noble, common, he doesn't give a damn.  He's not bad-looking, built like a brick shithouse and extremely charming when he wants to be so he doesn't generally have a problem finding himself company.  Not to mention a few sprained ankles and twisted knees from perfecting the art of leaping from second-story windows to avoid angry fathers, husbands, boyfriends and brothers.  

He's in his 70's, which for an Amberite makes him old enough to realize that he still looks damn good for his age and young enough to be immature and unrefined in the way that only a young Amberite can.  He's blunt, he's crass, he drinks too much and he has a really bad temper.  He fights dirty and often.  Most folks think he's great at his job because when a drunken brawl breaks out he's always first on the scene.  What they don't realize is that he's probably the guy that started it.

He cleans up well, though, and does his job when he's on duty.  He never curses, drinks or acts rudely in front of his dear, sainted mum.  (This despite the fact that she was a barmaid since long before he was born and can probably teach him a few interesting words and phrases.)  Partially because he loves and respects her and partially because he knows that she'll still slap him upside the head no matter how big he gets.  Many a knock-down, drag-out has begun with an insult directed at Tim's mother.  It's the one thing that never fails to piss him off.   These days, she works as a teacher in a small school in Amber City. 

Tim's "official" colors are red and gold, though he doesn't make a point of wearing them.  When he's not in uniform, he wears whatever he grabs first when he rolls out of bed in the morning.  This is not always a good thing if he had a girl over the night before.  He's never made a point of dressing to impress.  He even manages to add a hint of his own special "I-don't-really-give-a-damn" style to formal outfits.  

His personal symbol is the rooster.  Okay, okay -- the cock.  More than fitting.  They service large groups of females;  if you put them together with other males, eventually there's going to be a fight; and when they do fight, they're mean and nasty as hell. 

Tim's constant companion and only real prized possession is Goshen, a bay stallion full of the same...er, spirit as his master.  Goshen is not an engineered product of magick conjured up by a benevolent aunt or uncle and given to Timothy as a gift.  He isn't a paragon of horsedom sought for out in Shadow.  He's just a well-bred stallion won in a card game that's been trained to serve as a guardsman's mount.  He doesn't fly, he doesn't talk, and he can't do long division.  He can perform combat maneuvers and obey simple commands, some of which are related to his job and others that Timothy's taught him purely for his own amusement.  Ca-ca, Goshen.  Good horse.

The last five years have been spent traveling Shadow  on his father's business.  On his frequent returns to Amber, he doesn't discuss the specifics of exactly why and where he's gone, just the carrying on he's done while he was there.  The typical tale starts:  "So there was this girl..."