Scipio: Introduction to the character, and the opening stages of When Shadows Fall

Thanks to Jeff Berger, the GM, and my fellow players, especially Rob, Bridgette, and Keith, for a game which had gotten continually gotten more interesting with each post.

Indeed. What do you really do for a living if you are an Amberite? How about if you are an Amberite whose two sisters, and cousins are almost all magically talented, and you are not? Finally, what if you aren't the type to wander shadow, and so are a homebody? If you have a silver tongue, and all the charm befitting the oldest child of Flora, then you might use these intangibles to become a diplomat.

Scipio is Amber's Diplomat to the Crown. Several hundred years old, he holds the distinction of having served all three of Amber's monarchs, plus Corwin, and the current acting king. He is as loyal to Amber as Gerard, but his methods are radically different. Scipio uses his people skills. Still, it can be a bit exasperating to understand him. Some of his cousins have described him in terms ranging from polished diplomat to politicker, and even ones he is on fairly good terms have described Scipio as "more Politician than Prince" when he is playing his favorite game.

Not that he is a slouch as a fighter. In an Amber where many of his cousins specialize in magic, Scipio is more than a fair opponent with his scimitar, simply called Arc. He ably lead a force, eponymously called Scipio's Legion, during the Patternfall War. His force, with some Rebman regulars, successfully defended a side attack against Rebma while the main battle raged in Garnath, and he continued to lead his team, with the occassional magical aid of his two sisters Kaitlyn and Raven, all the way to the final battle at Chaos.

In peacetime, you can usually find him in Amber, and in the Golden Circle. He specializes in bringing new shadows, candidates for membership, to the attention of the crown. One such adventure earned him his sword as a reward from Eric. He doesn't stray far from Amber, except for Earth, where he often connects with his more freewheeling sisters.

In times of trouble, when sides are irrecovably drawn, you want Scipio on your team. Sure, he doesn't even know a single Power Word, and some of his cousins surpass him in the art of fighting, this is true. Still, the son of Flora can recruit people to your cause, and dissuade allies of your foe. Need a trump artist? Scipio is on good terms with more than a few. Magic or advanced skills your need? Scipio's connections are invaluable.

Still...don't try to bribe him in. He has weaknesses and desires--women, particularly. The identity of his latest "lady friend" is always circulated in the court gossip. Still...don't try to buy him. He doesn't take kindly to it. Meet him on his own terms--explain why what you are doing is good for Amber, and you've locked him in to help you!

On the other hand, getting him angry is a bad idea. Insulting one of his two beloved sisters or his mother is a bad move. Unless you are a sister, or, like his cousin Marianne, considered one, calling him Skippy isn't cute, either. Scipio has his mood swings like the other Flaumels, and you can truly make him mad. If you do so, and you don't soon have Arc open up your ribcage to the air, then you'd better worry.

Then, you've TRULY upset the diplomat of Amber...

Anyway...the adventures of Scipio Aurelius Flaumel, diplomat.

The party had gone on too long last night. I sometimes think Mom had me specifically so that she wouldn't need a servant to clean up her parties. Like her latest bash. Of course, thanks to Mom, I missed a chance to spend time with a redhead I met there--some cousin of the Vidian Ambassador. C'est La Vie, as my french speaking little sister would say.

Oh, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Scipio, son of the Princess Florimel. Diplomat to the crown of Amber. If you ever visit the castle, check out the tapestry in the library. It shows the OTHER great battle going on while Corwin won the day in Garnath. My force, Scipio's Legion, together with a Rebman detachment, turned back a Chaosian army trying to take the reflection of Amber. No guns needed, either.

You've probably read my uncle's books, and maybe my cousin's books. No mention of me, my two sisters, nor most of my cousins. Quite infuriating, too. Editors. Can't live with them. Can't kill them. I've spent plenty of time on Earth, so I know of what I speak. So, I decided to tell you my perspective on the latest crisis to threaten the true city, and maybe fill in some of the omissions the supposedly complete chronicles do not provide.

As I was saying, I had just woke up. My mother's parties do not end so much as finally die with the dawn. Parties are important, though. Not just because of possible liaisons with the opposite sex, either. Buisness can be conducted, new people can be felt out. You know, the art of the deal. Of course, The Donald never gave me credit for coining that title for his book. At least I have a nice place in his Tower in New York.

I was dressing and contemplating a stretch of free time when a messager arrived at my quarters. The Queen wanted to see me, as soon as possible. I quickly straightened, grabbed a muffin, and went to see Vialle.

It was not the best of times for the Royal Family. Random was still missing, and so Vialle ruled in his stead. Problem is, her highness was ill and bedridden. So, the castle was run from the royal bedchambers. Being respected and important enough to have a large, third floor apartment, it was but a short walk to the Royal Apartments.

I was admitted into the antechamber, and then into her bedroom. Vialle looked worse than ever. I gave her my hands and leaned close to hear. I noticed a bit of blood on her lip which she discreetly swallowed. As she started to explain what she wanted, my cousin Nathan entered the room. Obviously, Vialle summoned him, too. Vialle explained to use something about trouble in shadow--that shadow was becoming harder to manipulate. Something odd was at work in the universe, and she wanted the two of us to find the problem. We both readily agreed, and we exited the chamber, I first, and my cousin second.

In the hallway, we decided to talk. Although we were both diplomats, working for the crown, we were not aligned together. Nathan also worked under an enormous handicap. He was a son of Brand, and thus many trusted him not a fig.

Nathan decided to do a Trump casting as we talked. We discussed out respective strengths, I my people skills and modest sword, and his strong suit in magic and Trump creation. The Trump casting was ambiguous, pointing to Random, and even to me as part of the solution. Although my sister Raven can draw trumps, I never really put much stock in it. Heck, I can't even cast a single spell. Nathan and I decided to meet an hour hence in the main hall, while we both made preparations and plans. As I headed back to my rooms, I considered a plan of attack. I for one, despite Nathan's parentage, mused that our visiting the Primal Pattern might be a good place to begin. After all, the last major shadow distrubances originated there.

I soon reached my rooms, and straightened myself. I need not have bothered. My mother soon came rushing in, babbling about Vialle being murdered, and that Nathan and I were to blame. Actually, Mom blamed Nathan, and thought I was his unwilling accomplice. She hugged me, and cursed Brand for taking away her son. This was, of course, pure nonsense. Still, the shock of Vialle's death stilled me for a second before I went into gear.

"There has to be a mistake, Mom" I told her. "I am innocent, and Nathan is too. We need legal counsel--contact Bill Roth." As I started to continue, the captain of the guard came into my quarters.

Having been taught manners by my mother, I offered him and his squad refreshments. They declined, and explained that they had come to arrest me. I didn't resist. I figured this was all a mistake, and what was the worst that could happen? They led me away to the dungeons, my mother crying. At least I wasn't in chains.

Still the indignity of the situation! Everyone stared as I was marched to my cell. They led me down into the tunnels, the traitor's wing actually. Four doors down, and in I went. Darkness was my new companion.

I was, as Phil Collins might say, In too Deep. The darkness gave me a lot of time to think, ruminate, and go a little crazy. I wondered what happened to Nathan. He might not have as calmly accepted incarceration. I replayed the minutes of the visit to Vialle in my mind, trying to figure it out.

It was then I heard a voice. I had heard voices before, but this one sounded like my mother. It was low, and quiet. It mumbled about leaving me something. I fumbled where the voice had came from, and wound up with some matches. No tobacco, but light was a good thing, nevertheless. I lit a match, and looked around my cell. It looked strangely familiar. It then hit me and the irony. I was in Corwin's old cell. The cell he had escaped. I looked a bit more, with a couple of more matches. I discovered something interesting. A sketch of a small room, complete with two doors, a desk and bric a brac adorned one wall. Intrigued, I touched it. Bingo! A trump sketch.

It hit me. Corwin had escaped by drawing a Trump Sketch. [Of course, you smug readers realize I am slightly mistaken in who drew the sketch, but the version of the Corwin Chronicles in the castle left this out]. I never even knew he could draw them, and apparently, neither did Eric. The sketch was still potent, I could transport myself to whatever that place was. I could free myself...

I hesitated. I did not want to be a fugitive from Amber. Also, I figured that, being where I was, information about the situation could flow to me.

Just in case, I hoarded the matches, only lighting one occassionally. I still held out the option to use that sketch. Time crept by...and thoughts preyed on my mind. I realized that it might have been a "guard" who killed Vialle. A guard who might arrange that the "murder of Vialle" committed suicide in his cell in shame...

As I lit a match, I noticed something different about the sketch. A figure was in it. A small hunchback. It looked like greatgrandfather. He saw me, too. "Corwin!" he exclaimed. "Come through, boy. I need your hands." He offered to pull me though the sketch.

Since my recent thoughts were of possibly being silenced in the cell, I decided to go for it. I was pulled though into the room, free of the darkness at last. I wryly thought that when my sister came visiting, she would be in for a surprise. If you think my mother wouldn't panic and call Kaitlyn instead of Bill Roth to help out her older brother, then you didn't read the novels carefully enough.

Dworkin, since I was fairly sure it was he, looked amiss. Only my brother, he said, ever visited him anymore. Since honesty is sometimes a good idea, I decided to tell the truth of my identity. First, though, I tried to pry out of him WHICH brother of Corwin was visiting him. No dice, though. Dworkin clammed up. After I admitted my true identity, I asked him why he needed me. He muttered some gibberish about either destroying the Primal Pattern, or cooking fried chicken. He wanted rest, and so as he went to his bedroom, left me with a book: "101 ways to destroy the universe and cook Fried chicken". Curious, I opened the book, thinking, in the words of Sean Connery, that my situation had not improved...

Part II

When last we left the diplomat (cue Fugitive music)

"accused of a crime he did not commit", he had managed to

escape his cell, by the lucky chance that it happened to

be Corwin's old prison, and that Dworkin mistook Scipio

for the former occupant...

So, Dworkin left, and left me with this book. Being a literary

sort, I opened it. Again, the refrain: I need not have bothered.

I heard a *crash* from Dworkin's bedchamber. Afraid of a foe,

I jumped up and looked around the room, hoping for some sort of

weapon. A lot of strange stuff, vials and even bones, but no

weapons. The far door was locked. I froze. Suddenly, a demonic

creature came from Dworkin's bedchambers. Horrible, black scales.

Long talons. Fangs. Not the kind of person to invite to Midwinter

festival. Still, I had heard Dworkin and even Oberon had the

ability to change shape. Perhaps greatgrandfather had a bad

dream.

He asked me in a raspy voice if I had any ideas about taming

the Pattern. No more mention of fried chicken, thank goodness.

I decided to apply my skills to the task. I replied, "I would

like to talk to the Primal Pattern. Get a feeling for it." I

figured, talk at the potent squiggle we call the Pattern and go

home. Piece of cake for someone who, along with the charming

Kaitlyn, can actually get Julian to smile. Rarely, and it

usually involves a dirty joke, but I can do it.

Surprisingly, he assented. "I guess we can go look at it.", my

demonic looking greatgrandfather said. He unlocked the mysterious

door and we entered a dark tunnel. Alas,

my recent experience in a cell made me dislike the dark even

more rather than innoculate me against it. I wished fervently

for something to reassure me. I wished Arc was on my hip.

I've said before that I am a total dunce when it comes to magic.

Hey, when someone says "Voile!", I think they are mangling French,

what Katie would call the civilized tongue(she and mom speak it

better than I.)

So, let me tell you, I was shocked when, suddenly,

my scimitar and scabbard materialized onto my hip. Now I am

not so stupid not to know I can find any personal effects in

shadow, but I wasn't in shadow, was I? Quite the opposite, if

the little cosmology I picked up from Aunt Fi was right.

So, I was a bit unsure if Arc was real. I tested it. Length

was right. Pommel was the same, in my colors of blue and gold.

It SEEMED real. I decided not to argue. Filled with a new

confidence, I set out to catch Dworkin, almost at the end of the

tunnel. I reached the end of the tunnel to meet Dworkin, with

a pet cat. "Precious...This is Scipio." He stroked the cat

lovingly. I was, of course, nervous as all hell. Oh, I almost

forgot! This house cat was the size of a bengal tiger. I hoped

he had been fed recently. I was triply glad I did have Arc again.

The three of us walked into the most beautiful forest one could

imagine. It was small, but the utterly clear sky, the coolness

of the air. A pretty nice place to put a Pattern. We reached

a clearing, and down a slope I saw my goal. The Primal

Pattern, itself. Dworkin instructed me. "Go down to the Pattern and

do as you were asked. I will wait here."

Still unsure about this, I trudged down the slope. This whole buisness

seemed too weird. I wondered what was going on. Was Dworkin losing his

marbles again? C'mon, talking to the Pattern?

I figured, go to the edge, make this look good.

Once again, I thought of my little sister. O.k, maybe I overdo it too much.

Still, I was a horrible brother early in my sisters' lives. Being a

century older, I let Mom ruin Raven's life, and Raven rebelled against

it. She walked the Pattern and made herself scarce for years.

She and Mom still can't speak civilly, although thanks to great effort

on my part, we at least are back in dutch. Helping save your sister from a

nasty situation helps, too.

Anyway, when Ravanalie's Rebellion occurred, I

decided to be there for my other sister. Our bond, while not perfect,

is strong. Anyway, when my sister walks a Pattern, friends, she

just doesn't walk. She SINGS. Beautifully. It is at once inhumanly perfect

and majestic. It can't be copied, or duplicated and unicorn knows she tries.

After you hear it, you simply cannot bear to listen to any other music for

a long while. Your brain cannot stand to hear something so inferior to

the perfection you heard. It is a torture which matches the intense beauty

of the actual sigin. I wondered how she would sound, walking the Primal

Pattern, something she has never done, to my knowledge.

While we are on the subject of sisters, I might as well mention my "third"

sister Marianne. I was to find out later that while I was at the Primal

Pattern, Kaitlyn and Marianne were having interesting adventures of their

own.

O.k, so she is really Deirdre's daughter. Big deal. She and Kaitlyn are

best friends, from the day Deirdre brought her to Amber, when the two of

them were still in their teens. I only really bonded to her after what

happened to her mother--I decided to be a big brother to her. She needed

it, too. We are good friends, and later on in my story, this becomes a very

important factor in a decision I made.

Marianne is very much alike her mother. Long dark hair, blue eyes. And

just as intolerant of sexists. You know the story of Robin Hood? Well, she

is the original. And lest you think she is the helpless "Maid Marian"--well, that is

just the twisted version Earth has. In her shadow known as Locksley, she is the

mistress of the forests. Thinking that my cousin is a piece of fluff is

a great way to get one of her arrows in your sternum. I'm glad

I personally don't find cousins sexually attractive. Marianne might take offense--she

probably can take me out barehanded, even if I was using Arc.[Although there is a

funny story involving my perverted attempt to help the then 16 year old

Kaitlyn to bed cousin Chance...]

I finally reached it, when suddenly,almost out of thin air,

mother Unicorn appeared to regard me. I've been a diplomat for a long while.

I eat the diplomats Luke sends from Kashfa like popcorn. Even the raven

haired beauty he sent with his last diplomatic group. Now this, talking

to the unicorn. Now, this was a diplomatic challenge.

"I am Scipio Aurelius Florimel" I said, confidently. Still, Mom never gave

me etiquette directions on addressing Powers of the Universe. "I would like to know

if you know about the disruptions in shadow. Dworkin is unhappy with you." O.k,

my recollection of what I said may be wrong, but I said something along

those lines. Sue me.

The unicorn replied. "Scipio Aurelius Florimel" she thundered. "The

creator doesn't visit me anymore. Ask him why he doesn't talk to me.

That is all." Her voice at the end almost seemed like a sad child. Weird.

The unicorn dissapeared, leaving me more than a little confused.

I trudged up the slope, letting this stew. Dworkin, still in his demonic

form, looked at me, eyes gleaming. I explained what the unicorn had said.

I wasn't prepared for the rebuke. "You know very well that is NOT what I

asked you to do. I asked you to find a way to neutralize it. Now, you

will cooperate..."

Dworkin, and his feline friend started toward me. It looked like it was

time to punt, from what I figured. I drew Arc. I need not have bothered.

Thankfully, my good luck came through. I felt the unmistakeable presence of

a Trump call.

Naturally, I took it. It was my cousin Nathan! He was in the palace,

along with someone who looked like my cousin Sherlock. I explained I was at

the Primal Pattern with Dworkin. Nathan exclaimed "Scipio! That is NOT

Dworkin!" He offered his hand. I reached for it, and at that moment, I felt

the talons grab my leg. Fortunately, I was pulled through, with only

some deep scratches. I was in the throne room of Amber. My fellow

accused murderer Nathan was here, along with Random's son, the "great

detective" Sherlock, and a man who from Doyle's description could only be

Dr. Watson. The first piece of information I was given was that Nathan

and I were exonerated. The second piece was that we were officially

exonerated by the acting King of Amber, Sherlock...

Maybe, I thought, my situation had finally improved. Or, as I was to

learn, perhaps not...

To be continued.

When last we left the diplomat (cue Fugitive music)

"accused of a crime he did not commit", he had managed to

escape "Dworkin", by the lucky chance that cousins Nathan

and Sherlock happened to Trump him at the right time...

Fortunately, I was pulled through, with only

some deep scratches. I was in the throne room of Amber. My fellow

accused murderer Nathan was here, along with Random's son, the "great

detective" Sherlock, and a man who from Doyle's description could only be

Dr. Watson. The first piece of information I was given was that Nathan

and I were exonerated. The second piece was that we were officially

exonerated by the acting King of Amber, Sherlock...

As I explained my story to Sherlock and Watson, Nathan

began to draw a trump sketch on the wall. He wanted to

back into the frying pan, so to speak. My talented

cousin finished his work and stepped through it. I

had no time to debate with Sherlock the dubious action

Nathan had just undertaken, as it was then that Fiona

and Caine strolled in.

Here is a good place to discuss my relations with these

two relatives. Caine I get along middling good with.

I was part of Eric's team for a lot of the war, after

all. I was in the navy in my earlier days, but never

found the top

of the ocean to be my liking. I vastly preferred the

lands under the waves, like Aunt Llewella's realm, also

the place where I loved and lost my Delphina. However,

the story of Delphina is a tragic one, and I will not

go into it here. Suffice it to say that even a son of

Flora, who is said to trade bed companions like linen(and

truth be told, there is truth to that. I am a tomcat.),

can fall in love and lose that love as well.

Fiona is a different story altogether. She was a big

influence on my life for completely different reasons.

When I was ten, long ago, I was one of the few children

in the castle. I am among the oldest of the third

generation, after all. Naturally, my Mom spoiled me, and

most of the elders adored me. So, I could and did get

away with a lot in those carefree days of my childhood.

So, one day, I decided to hide Fiona's favorite atomizer.

If you think Fiona is this sorceress who cares all for

magic and nothing about fashion, well, then, you are a

fool. From the good looks of her son Gorleis, she can

and does snare men. I occassionally to this day try to set her up

with men who would appreciate her. Even super-sorceresses are women

after all, my Mother always told me. Anyway, my joke got both Flora

and Fiona mad at me. Even then, though, my charm served

me well. I did manage to avoid punishment--I sweettalked

the both of them. End of story, right?

Well, no. A few months later, at family lunch, as I

looked dubiously

at the pork on my plate, I felt a tingle. Fiona, across

from me, was just grinning. Before everyone's eyes, my

clothes vanished. I was naked as the day I was born!

Everyone thought it was funny, even the usually passive

Julian. I, however, did not agree. I ran from the room,

screaming and crying. It affected my psychology

drastically. I started to fear magic in its various forms.

Naturally, when Fiona and her brothers started forming

their own cabal, I naturally was drawn to Eric's side.

The fact that his side was a lot less inclined toward

magic was a big plus.

After the war, I reconciled with my Aunt. I even

have begun to actually like her. She admitted to me once

why she had enchanted my clothes like she did. She

told me that one day after the atomizer incident, while

she was showing me how Trumps worked, she felt the

strength of my will, especially for a ten year old child of Flora.

She was very impressed, she said,

and she felt I would make an excellent magician or even a creator

of trumps. Since I had played a trick on her, she thought

a "magic trick" would interest me in the Arts. So, she played that

trick on me, hoping it would interest me enough to allow her to

take me under wing. Of course, the gambit spectacularly failed, and Fiona

was dissapointed and even a little mad at herself ever since.

I, of course was flattered when she told me this, and to this

day I am still trying to figure out how much is truth. With us Amberites, one

never knows.

One notable thing is, though, almost every time we have one of

our "Chess-Teas", she hints to me that she would be

more than happy to start giving me lessons. When I trump her, she often

makes a positive comparison of my mental strength to my cousins. Maybe I

should have taken her up on her offer. It certainly would

have come in handy more than once in this chaos I

found myself in. In a roundabout way, as you'll find out, I

fulfilled Fiona's plan for me. But, I'm getting really

ahead of my story.

Back to current evbnts, Fiona and Caine had come in, and

moved toward Sherlock, asking about the Jewel of Judgement.

Then, I received a shock. Suddenly, the forms of my

Aunt and Uncle were replaced with lookalikes of that

creature which impersonated Dworkin. With a scream,

"Caine" came at me while "Fiona" went for Sherlock

and Watson. I drew Arc to deal with the creature,

wondering if I was up to the task. I managed to

kill the horrid thing without too much trouble, just

a few seconds after Watson and Sherlock had together

beaten their opponent. The two creatures oozed disgusting

body fluids onto the nice tiles.

"Good work with the hellion, Prince Scipio." Watson

complimented me. Sherlock said nothing, but I could

tell that even though I do not have the precise skills

of Uncle Benedict, he wanted me nearby nevertheless.

He soon vocalized his plans. He wanted to eliminate

these creatures from the castle. Apparently, Sherlock

could and did change them to their horrid true forms.

He also mentioned that they weren't from Chaos, but

from elsewhere. I am not a powermonger, so I just

accepted this at face value.

We searched around the castle, occassionally getting

some fencing practice. We soon worked out a strategy

of "Sherlock detects, Scipio dices". I learned that

cousin Chance, the man I nearly got my sister into bed

with when she was 16, was also about in the castle. He,

like Nathan, was an Artist, but he was the son of Bleys

and a good guy overall. I've always thought he'd make

a good brother in law. The whereabouts of our other

relations were unknown. My sister Kaitlyn had come

to the castle, along with Marianne. They had not been

seem since going to visit me in my cell. I was worried--

did they find the trump sketch in my cell and use it? Or did something else

happen to them?

Things seemed so simple, until Nathan came back. We

were in his room, as a matter of fact, when it occurred.

Chance, Sherlock and I were all there when Nathan showed

up and told his tale. He explained that his father was

alive, in the "Abyss". The universe was falling apart,

and his father wanted to use the power of the Abyss

to help stabilize it. An alternative to Pattern and

Logrus, which supposedly had gone corrupt, he said.

This talk of powers confused me, but I got really confused

when Sherlock suddenly ordered me to attack Nathan.

I know the name Brand isn't everyone's favorite to name

a son, but even so. His son Luke, more or less, was accepted

as a family member. His tactics to make Kashfa strong

are devious, daring and brilliant, in my opinion.

I'd heard somewhere that he'd even read a couple popular psychology and

political science books I wrote which were

published on Earth. My two sisters are musically talented, especially

Kaitlyn, but my province is popular writing. It goes with the territory.

I can persuade in person, or in a written medium. So, I've had published

a couple of popular guides to psychology and political science. John Gray

sort of stuff. My favorite, and my best success, is a primer to politics for the

ordinary person. Just for fun, I used Golden Circle Kingdoms as "imaginary"

examples of

diplomatic principles in action. Critics went gaga over it, the public liked

it. The

only thing was that I had to give credit to "Roger Zelazny". He is the

ostensible author of Corwin's and Merlin's chronicles on shadow Earth.

Anyway, back to Luke, I already mentioned that

he even tried to rattle me by sending

a VERY attractive raven haired ambassador along with his last diplomatic

team to the castle. If Luke and I ever got along as

well as he and Merlin does, the two of us might really

make a dangerous pair. The Salesman of the Southwest

and the Silver Tongue Diplomat. I'm sure the elders would not be too happy

if we did this. Perhaps it is just as

well we are only cordial to each other. I do like the

fact that he had his palace chef learn to make tacos

and fajitas, and Luke always knows to serve them when

I am on a mission to Jidrash.

So, back to events, I hesitated when Sherlock gave his strange

order. I'm glad I did. While Sherlock decided to

attack Nathan himself, another person appeared, back

in the hallway. I decided to meet and greet this

person, figuring that it might be another cousin. I

only got a glimpse of her throwing something at

Sherlock before she vanished. She could have been Eric's

daughter, but I couldn't be sure. Nathan then vanished,

and Sherlock along with him when he grabbed Nathan in

the nick of time.

This left me and Chance, confused. Sherlock quickly

returned, spouting stuff that Nathan's life was now

forfeit. We decided to continue searching the castle.

Sherlock summoned yet another Shadow buddy of his, Lestrade

I think his name was. I also caught a mention that

Osric was around somewhere. Curiouser and curiouser.

I suggested that we visit my

quarters, to arm properly. I had a couple of emerald

studded daggers, a gift from a golden circle nobleman who knows

that I am a minor collector of such things.

On the way to my rooms, however, we encountered another

pair of abyssal nasties, one of which was in the form of

my mother. She certainly

sounded and looked like her. I decided to test her by

asking her who I had wanted her to call when I was

imprisoned. This deception proved unnecessary when Sherlock

did his trick and revealed their true form. I gladly and

viciously killed the creature which dared to impersonate

Mom. However, first, I tried to get a mindlock on

the thing, to gain information. What happened was

disturbing. There was some force inside the thing, some

force that wanted access to my soul and mind. Something

on the order of the Pattern itself. Intrigued,

but hesitant of allowing this to occur, I broke the

conenction and slew the creature.

Sherlock and his companions dispatched the other. We

continued on to my quarters. We entered a war zone. It

seemed as if my quarters had been ransacked, and then

fought in. Chess board overturned. Drawers searched.

My Escher, undamaged, but knocked to the ground. I

gingerly replaced it on the wall. The interesting

thing, from a detective's point of view, was the abyssal

creature fluid staining my rug. It was clear that they

had been interrupted by someone, someone who didn't like

the idea of ransacking my rooms. Perhaps my sister was

my benefactor, but I didn't know. No evidence.

I did a quick check

and inventory to make sure nothing was stolen. Nothing

seemed missing. Odd. I retrieved the daggers, and

presented them to my three companions and took a pair for

myself. I decided, that

in the middle of our crisis, that straightening up

my room further wouldn't sit well.

We went back into the hall, and I proposed calling my

sister, Kaitlyn. We needed backup, I said, and she would

be perfect addition to the force.

So, we back to a room, and I proposed to call Kaitlyn and bring her

through. The contact was hard, as if she was at the Courts, but I managed

it. The power of brotherly love, perhaps. She apparently was not in

good shape, having been through an ordeal. She then told her

story. She and Marianne had been trying to visit me when some creatures

attacked them. Abyssal nasties, from the description. After dispatching

them, and seeing the horror of a guard vilely killed by one of them, they

apparently met Oberon. A young, vibrant Oberon. In fact, it soon

emerged that they were perhaps in the distant past of Amber. Specifically,

around the time Deirdre was a baby. So, Kaitlyn explained, amused, that

Marianne wound up babysitting her mother. She, on the other hand, apparently

was kidnapped by force unknown. She had just gotten free and was talking

to a strangely aged Corwin when I called.

I explained my story, and we debated a course of action. Naturally, Kaitlyn

wanted to try to call the past again and get her best friend out of hock.

We attempted to call Marianne, but failed. We would have to regroup before

trying to call someone out of time again, apparently.

So, we went trooping through the castle, my sister, Sherlock, Watson, and I.

We discussed things more--I found out that indeed my sister had imprisoned

the nasties she found ransacking my room with a spell. She proposed going

to my room and bringing them out, for informational purposes.

We arrived at my poor disheveled quarters, and once my witch of a sister

released her "Mall from Hell" spell, we soon found and faced yet another

group of abyssal nasties,

I once again got

one in position for a mindlock. Deja Vu. I was tired of depending on the

acting King, especially considering the situation with Nathan, which rubbed

me more than a little raw. My sister was here, and so I wanted to form

an independent team. Still, a silver tongue, while useful, doesn't always

work. So, I decided to get into the power game. So, I decided to try what

I didn't have the guts to do before.

I held the contact long enough to deliberately allow the imprint of the

Abyssal Power. The alien force burned into my mind and soul, rewritting

me. It felt very much like a patternwalk. I eventually came out of it, with

my companions concerned about me, wondering why the contact had lasted

so long.

Now, friends, if you had just had a force which Nathan and his father partake

in rewrite your genes, would YOU tell Sherlock? Of course not, and so I

didn't. I passed off an explanation that I was trying to pump the creature

of information, and it didn't work. Strictly true, but not the whole story

of course. I resolved to get my sister alone and discuss this with her. With

her ability as a sorceress, she could hopefully help me learn this new power.

I felt a little funny, but that was alright. I was dealt a new card, face

down. Time would tell if it was a King, or a deuce.

One thing I learned quickly. I could determine if something took part

in the power of the abyss. A greenish glow pervaded corpses of abyssal

nasties we had already slain. A useful trick. I no longer needed Sherlock

to tell me who an enemy was! My sister, and I could

effectively act outside of his overbearing grasp.

Kaitlyn and I seperated from the acting King, deciding to grab a bite to

eat from Michael, the head of Amber's kitchens.

I confided in my sister what I had done, and the immediate

benefit of detecting Abyssal nasties. She expressed her concern that she

hoped I knew

what I was doing playing around with such an unknown force.

After I determined

that no one in the kitchens were abyssal. I became afraid, though, that

strenous use of my powers would change me somehow. Alter who I was, as

it were, and I expressed this fear to my darling sister. My sister, wise

beyond her years, suggested sleep. So, I retired to my room and

I collapsed on

my bed, dead to the world. Once I woke up, my sister and I would face the

new day. We would rescue Marianne out the past, and realy turn things

around at the castle. Things would take a turn for the better.

I woke up, and I knew that things had really taken a turn for the worse

instead.

When your sister stands above you with her sword, Ninnach, in hand, and your body resembles

an abyssal nasty, then you really aren't starting the day off with a good

breakfast. I tried to explain that I metamorphosed during the night, and

that I was still the brother she loved. Even though we Flaumels know the

power of a good one, I did not try to hug her, considering my shape.

"Change back, and then tell me the name of the first man I made love to.",

she demanded.

Oh, boy. I didn't know how to effect the change. Hell, I didn't even know

I could shapechange. To say I was in trouble would be understatement...

To be continued...

When last we left the diplomat (cue Fugitive music)

"accused of a crime he did not commit"

he had shapechnaged during the night into the

form of an Abyssal Nasty. His sister

Kaitlyn, not amused, has demanded proof of

his identity...

So, there I was in bed, metamorphosed into the form of an Abyssal nasty,

and Sis asking for ID. I couldn't change back--I did not even know that

I COULD shapechange. The answer to her question, though, I could

provide.

Very few people know the identity of the man who first bedded her. Mom doesn't

even know for sure. In fact, besides me, Mari, and Raven, I think the list

abruptly ends. Still, everyone else speculates and their ideas

turn to all sorts of people, but the real person was a man who she fell in

love with named Kendrick. A forester.

"SisSis, " Scipio begins "it really is me. I seemed to have metamorphosed in the

middle of the night. I don't know yet how to reverse this."

"To prove you that I'm me...well, you lost your virginity to the same man you

lost your long hair: Kendrick the forester."

I tried to smile in my demonic form, not an easy task.

"And, for the 2343rd time, NO, I did NOT tell Mom. She probably assumes it

from that haircut."

She accepted this prima facie evidence of my identity. She told me that I had better

learn to reverse it, and quickly. Good Acting King Sherlock had started calling for

the death of Nathan and other nonsense, including the supposed return of Brand. He was

acting stupid, and crazy. Who knows what he might do to me if he saw the change?

She needed a hug, but was understandably reluctant to receive one. So, I didn't even try it.

Instead, I decided to think aloud. I told her that SOMEONE was running the Abyss--maybe

Brand, but maybe not. Thanks to that little melee before, I told her, I suspected that

Eric, of all people, might be running around. She didn't buy it, and then asked if

I wanted to take a Patternwalk with her--to get out of Sherlock's sight, and to find

Marianne. Besides the actual danger to me actually walking the Pattern, I delighted

her with my agreement.

While we were making plans, things took a turn for the better. I managed, while looking

at a painting of me at a Golden Circle Conference, to force my shape to my natural

form. In other words, I restored myself to an appearance worthy of a son of Flora! Naturally

the first order of buisness was giving my sister that overdue hug. It felt good.

Still, we had no time to celebrate, or even to continue with our plans. Suddenly,

before our eyes, some sort of tunnel appeared before us. At the other end of the

tunnel was a bedroom, somewhere. Also standing at the end of the tunnel, with a

slightly perplexed look, was cousin Nathan. Kaitlyn, ever mindful of the

problem that might occur if acting king strolled by, closed the door for

privacy.

I don't think he expected for both of us to see him--just like if

you Trump someone, you do not expect to contact the person standing next

to her. So, he squinted at me, and shouted HUFAAR. Meanwhile, I

noticed that good cousin Nathan had the same aura as the Abyssal creatures--

was he one, or had, like myself, access to the power.

In a demanding tone of voice, I asked him. Since I didn't react to whatever

spell he threw, he narrowed his eyes at

my strident tone and replied that he had had the power thrust upon him, and that

I could empathize with that. I stunned him, I think, when I told him I had done it

deliberately. He then wondered what we should do about the whole situation--we agreed

to start exchanging data.

I learned some things straight out. Eric was alive, and he did have a daughter. Brand, too

was alive. This Abyss I had taken supposedly was a fundamental force of the universe. The

other powers were supposedly corrupt, and self-serving, including the beloved

Pattern. For my part, I told

him of Sherlock, and my shapeshifting experiences, which, apparently, he did not have

as yet. He then proposed, for safety reasons, for the both of us to come to the Abyss and

exchange notes. He pointed out, much to my shock, that most of the elders were already there, and

working with his father, including Mom. I decided to take him up on the offer.

Kaitlyn was much more reluctant to go to the Abyss, even if Momma was there. She disliked

the Abyssal power intensely, and so instead said that she was going to try and reach the

past again, and Marianne. Nathan seemed shocked that time was so out of joint that Kaitlyn

and Marianne could have been catapulted into the past like that. This disturbing news cousin

Nathan pondered for a moment, and then decided to create special Trumps which could reach

the normally inaccessible Abyss, plus any temporal anomalies Kaitlyn might enter.

I took this all as face value as he started to make them. After all, I knew little of

Trump creation. Their use, of course, is important to me. I couldn't get through a day

of work without them. As my Trump portrait depicts, I am ready for your call at any time,

or perhaps a more personal meeting, especially if you are female...but, I digress!

His creation of the Trumps were successful, and I made preparations to go through the

tunnel. Nathan implored Kaitlyn to not use the Pattern, for her own safety. She said

goodbye to me, not without a warning to keep my eyes open, and we parted. After Nathan

relocated the passage so that I would not step through into his bedroom and see who he

was sleeping with, I stepped through, and was gone.

"Welcome to the Abyss. Specifically, to Castle Pandemonium, holding of Prince Brand of Amber."

Nathan greeted my arrival. The castle, aside from the stone color, looked very much like

good old Castle Amber. An interesting sociological point is in there, but I decided not

to make it. I was a guest, it would be rude for me to ask why Brand had the temerity to remake

Castle Amber in the Abyss. He then explained that more than one person knew I was here, and

so asked what I wanted to see. Several things came to mind, but the first one was blood.

I asked to see Mom.

He assented to this, and we started walking. He continued to outline the philosophy of the

Abyss. He emphasized that everyone, in the end, was Abyssal on some level. It wasn't a power

out for conquest or dominion, like Pattern or Logrus. It was a more fundamental one. Again,

I decided to just assimilate this. After all, I had heard a thousand pitches in my time, and

this sounded like #1001. But, I was a part of it, and so I listened with intent. Apparently,

too, Nathan, not by choice, was a big shot here. A focal point.

He also explained, as we walked, that the structure of the Abyss was a mixture of the

nature of Shadow and Amber. To find my mother's door, he explained, willing that the door

was ahead was the key. Very much like finding the shadow of one's desire. So, he stopped

at a door, and opened it. Sure enough, it revealed a luxurious boudoir. Of course, the

room's beauty was completely outmatched, since, reclining on a chase, was the most

beautiful woman in Amber. Flora.

She greeted me, and asked how things were. I walked over to kiss her, and then my paranoia

hit me. I decided to test her identity. I asked her in a low voice, in French, if she was

here of her own free will. Nathan, meanwhile, gave her a status report on the situation

in Amber, highlighting the fact that Kaitlyn was highly reluctant to join forces with

the Abyss.

Flora did not respond to my French, and then showed great alarm when she heard what Nathan

had to say. She was deathly afraid for sister, and ordered me to retrieve her to the Abyss

immediately. She also reported a horrific story of the unicorn attacking her, being rescued

only by Brand. She was also afraid that Martin was dead, and that Sherlock was the prime

mover behind his death. After all, with Random gone, who was the heir apparent, if Martin

was dead? Nathan chimed in, exhorting me to bring Kaitlyn to the Abyss. The ball was

in my court. I was torn, but decided to accede to their requests, or should I say, order.

I pulled out the special trump cousin had made not too long before, and focused upon it. I

was relieved that Kaitlyn quickly answered! I explained to her, in a low voice, and in

French, that I was in the Abyss, and with Mom. Her hopes that Mom were alright I then dashed

by pointing out the fact that she didn't seem to know the civilized tongue...and that I was

growing suspicious of the situation. It was then, that my mother, unamused by my actions,

decided to speak:

"Scipio, mon cher.....si je ne vous reponds pas, peut-etre c'est que vos

questions ne valent pas la peine qu'on elles reponde." ("Scipio, my

dear....if I do not answer you, perhaps it's because your questions are not

worth answering.")

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow.... She then

turns to Nathan and proceeded to ignore me completely. Ouch!

"My son, has doubts about his

mothers true identity... And of course my daughter has worries at her older

brother's suspicions! I also choose not to speak French due to an affair

that I am currently getting over. An artist, forgive me... Master painter,"

she motioned to a painting of herself in a almost see-through gown, reclining

in the Romantic vein.

She looked back to Nathan, "I would suppose that if they do not believe in

my existance then they must not take yourself for who you are either. Might

we summon Brand to eleviate their worries and questions?"

She then returned her gaze to me she is neither pleased or amused and looked

at me as if I was ten again and been caught hiding Fiona's

favorite atomizer.

Nathan then proposed a scheme for proving that the Pattern was hostile. Before we could

debate the merits, a sudden drain hit me, like a car battery dying. The Trump contact

wavered, and Flora saw this immediately. She ordered Nathan to strengthen the contact,

and bring her daughter through, then and there. She herself left the room on some

unknown errand. Maybe having to do with the energy drain. Nathan rushed over to help stabilize it,

and demanded that she come through. Naturally, this was a tactical mistake. Suspicion

growing on her, she refused, and crying, closed the contact.

Nathan was upset, mostly at himself.

"It's my fault; I shouldn't have pressured her. Now I've got to fix it.

Find either of our parents; no, find *anybody.* Tell them what I'm doing.

I've got to confront Kaitlyn in front of the Pattern. Or rather, the Pattern

in front of Kaitlyn. Either way, I don't expect to come out unscathed. I'm

hoping a rescue can be arranged."

"And, whatever happens, *don't* come after me. Do you understand? I want

your promise. Tell my father that you're at least as important in the short

term as I am in the long term; tell him I said so."

He then departed before I could get a word in edgewise. I was alone, in the Abyss.

Did it this time, I thought. I not only alienated my sister and my mother,

I managed to lose Nathan,now am alone in this place, and have been asked to go talk to Brand!

Diplomat, ha! And I thought things could only get better after being sprung from the dungeon.

O.k. Maybe a little hard on myself, but that is how I felt. With a sigh, I was ready to go

and, seek Brand.

Then came the turning point in this whole affair. Oh, I didn't think at the time it was

a turning point, but it is all the same. Let me give you an example. As you no doubt gather

from my name, my father, whoever he was, was from a Romanesque shadow. Mom has narrowed it down

that far at least. Thus, Scipio Aurelius. Anyway...I have been to many shadows where the

Roman Empire never fell. In one of them, a modern version of the Eastern Roman Empire turned

into a republic, I cut my political eyeteeth in seeking office. Did well, too. That, however

is another story.

Anyway, on Earth, it is generally said that the Western Roman Empire ended in the year 476

Anno Domini. Does this mean that, back in 476, everyone bemoaned the fact that the Empire

had fallen? Of course not! The deterioration was long in coming. The year 476 is somewhat

of an arbitrary date, set long after the fact as if to say, 'now, looking backward, we can see

it washere that the Empire was over'.

In a likewise manner, the next event to befall me, I realize now, whether these are the last

thoughts of my dying brain, or a story I am telling to my grandchildren, that it was now that

my destiny, for better or worse was set.

As I was ready to leave the room, I heard an enormous crash. I turned around, expecting

that perhaps Nathan had returned, or perhaps Kaitlyn had reconsidered. Wrong, on both

counts. My friend, cousin and sister Marianne had appeared, suddenly, in Mom's bed,

Thrashing wildly, cursing and screaming...