Theories for Fraticide
10/14/2009
07:10 PM
Logfile from Emrys.
You concentrate on Bleys's Trump...
The contact with Bleys comes like an icy wind.
To the image of Bleys, Emrys stands in a room full of maps and miniature figures, more for military than for gaming it seems. "Uncle," he says when the contact comes.
The image of Bleys is meticulously arranging an array of silk shirts in his closet, in what is probably his suite within the palace. "Emrys." He allows a note of surprise into his voice, and as always, he smiles.
To the image of Bleys, Emrys nods a little, maybe to let his elder know he got the name right. "I would like to pick your brain, if you're up for it."
The image of Bleys shrugs, smiling, and turns away from a great deal of clothing in red and orange. "It would be a pleasure, nephew."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys leans against a map table, overlaid in something like glass for use with grease pencils. "How creative have you gotten with your shadowshifting before?"
The image of Bleys walks out of his bedroom and out into the living area, where he settles himself into an armchair. "It depends on what you mean," he says. "I've not Random's penchant for mind-altering drugs."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys shakes his head. "I do not think hallucenigens are the way to go for what I want. Looking for something more... directed and controllable."
The image of Bleys suggests, "You'd best explain."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys says, "It is time to lay to rest my Father, or bring him back from the forces of Axiom. Corwin says the place where they met is now destroyed, but...." His shoulders roll in a shrug. "If Father is taken by Order, then it stands to reason he's in a location that's controlled by Order. I believe, because of that, that the Road will not be present in such a place, so I plan to find shadows that are highly tainted by Order and go from there.""
The image of Bleys says, "A bold plan." He strokes his beard in thought, the gemstones on his rings glimmering in the light of the banked coals of the fireplace. "You hope, then, to do something to draw the notice of Order within whatever Shadows it claims as its own, and thereby force them to...?" He trails off questioningly.
To the image of Bleys, Emrys lifts a brow. "Draw notice? I suspect I will, eventually, but the first forays are meant to be far more... clandestine. An experiment to turn theory to practice and, if we have much luck with us, then to learn of the ways of Order before truly seeking where Father is and taking him from Axiom."
The image of Bleys nods. "It will do as well as anything we've tried so far," he says. "I've never tried to find properties of that sort, myself. It'd be a trick, to picture Order in your mind and move towards that."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys shrugs. "It has a smell to it, shouldn't be that hard."
The image of Bleys says, "In the mystical sense, as Chaos has a feel of taint?"
To the image of Bleys, Emrys nods. "Something of the sort. To me, Chaos is... the scent of leaves decaying beneath your feet after a rainstorm, and Order is like unto ... The smell of crisp, freshly cleaned and pressed linens." He shrugs, as if not expecting it to make much sense to anyone else.
The image of Bleys laughs. "I am more prosaic in my extrasensory perceptions, nephew. But I believe I understand what it is that you refer to."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys mms. "I can shift with a scent, I'm hoping this will prove to be the same thing."
The image of Bleys appears to be considering the matter, and is silent. Then he says "Ordered Shadows will not coalesce some central point of Order, as the normal fabric of Shadow coalesces around Amber. That would violate my understanding of the principles of the universe. But it is possible that if you find a great cluster of highly ordered Shadows, you would find a gate, or some other form of nexus, or perhaps a place of power which serves as the wellspring of Order."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys nods. "This seems to jive with Mostyn's take on things. Order seems to cluster in our realm but come from somewhere else. As if the Pattern itself is throwing it out or stopping its entrance."
The image of Bleys says thoughtfully, "The Pattern is an ordering force, but it can also be used as a chaotic force. We can cause the teetering glass to spill, or to right itself, with our talent for the probable."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys nods. "Aye. On a spectrum between Order and Chaos, I'd put us closer to Order than Chaos, but still playing the center of the rope. That could just be ourtendancies towards the use of the power than the power itself, however," he says, slipping into a lecturer's tone more than that of a hunter.
The image of Bleys's expression remains one of careful consideration. "I'd advance the theory that the Pattern manifests will, and not Order. Our will, that we impose on the Shadows. Our will, that forces reality to conform to our expectations and desire."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys is quiet for a moment. "Some philosophers might argue that the two ideas are not mutually exclusive, that will begats a form of order, even if it is subhjective to the one whose will is reigning." A nod comes next. "But I am not a philosopher of any great caliber; I will concede that to you."
The image of Bleys smiles. "My theory would suggest that Order's not immune to the Pattern being used against it, just as Chaos yields to it."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys says, "Which would do much to explain Corwin's explanation of Eric with Greyswandir inside him. And brings hope to this cause."
The image of Bleys repeats, "Grayswandir," with a heaviness to his voice that is rarely heard from him. "Caine tells me that Corwin now wields a sword of Chaos instead." His tone indicates that he's not sure whether or not he believes that assertion, though.
To the image of Bleys, Emrys nods. "It would seem so, though I believe he still carries the other as well. Or has it near at hand, anyway."
The image of Bleys says, "I've not seen either sword, although I've received a present of sorts from my brother. Another blade, marked by the taint of Chaos."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys lifts a brow. "Well, that's at least three of us."
The image of Bleys says, "You. Me. And Caine?"
To the image of Bleys, Emrys nods. "Yes. I'm sure there are others, though."
The image of Bleys says, "No doubt." He chuckles. "You go after Eric. I'm going after Corwin."
The image of Bleys says, "I'll not leave another brother to be victim to one of the greater powers."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys shakes his head. "It seems we are on the same mission, with different targets. Good luck, Bleys."
The image of Bleys says, "I retain hope that it's not too late to save Corwin from himself. You are in contact, I assume?"
To the image of Bleys, Emrys nods. "Off and on. I can no longer reach him, so must wait on his pleasure."
The image of Bleys nods in turn. "I keep the dark blade near, but dare not leave it on my person. I've a wariness of those objects that bear the mark of Chaos."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys shrugs. "I think you'll suffer little from having it near. It reacts not at all to being near the items of Order I have."
The image of Bleys replies, "Still, I'd prefer not to take unnecessary risks. How much do you know of Corwin's present situation?"
To the image of Bleys, Emrys says, "I left his shadow when the War started. I've spoken to him once or twice since then."
The image of Bleys looks immediately keenly interested. "Where was this Shadow? What was its nature?" he asks. "I am need of some starting point from which to attempt to locate Corwin."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys makes a vague gesture, an 'out there' gesture. "Cars, guns, airplanes, electricity. Earth it named itself."
The image of Bleys shakes his head. "Gone," he says. "A thermonuclear explosion, if you're familiar with that Shadow technology. Dara's doing, or so Benedict and Caine claim."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys nods. "I know it's gone, but you asked where it was."
The image of Bleys lets out a sigh, then smiles, wry. "I'd hoped it was whatever Shadow he dwells in now, a place that Caine terms the edge of the world."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys shakes his head. "No, that was promised me soon, but not yet."
The image of Bleys says, "If you or an ally has a way of marking a Shadow such that others might find it, especially with abilities beyond that of our own Pattern, I'd ask you to make that effort should you be taken there. We may need that beacon."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys stands up a little straighter. "What an interesting idea," he mutters, more to himself. "No, I cannot, nor have I seen it done. The best I can do is make it easy to follow me."
The image of Bleys suggests, "A mirror, or something like it. Or one of the House magics, I know not what they can do in this regard. Even a power of the Shadows."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys shakes his head. "If it's truly that far out, beyond where things go wild, none of the shadow magics or House magics will get you there. I'll see what I can do though."
The image of Bleys chuckles grimly. "We know that Chaos magics can reach across this distance. The swords bear witness to it."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys's smile is far too bright. "We've always been told the Demon Lords could reach us. You act surprised to find this is true."
The image of Bleys says, with a smile of his own, "I am ever the optimist."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys says, "Well, we cannot all be perfect."
The image of Bleys laughs readily. "I'll look forward to your progress along the Ordered front, nephew. Call me if you've need of a blade or a word of advice."
To the image of Bleys, Emrys says, "I suspect both, in time."
You turn your attention away from the Trump and end the contact.
RPG: The Trump contact ends.
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