TANGERINE DREAM

Hmm, I feel better - I think.

Maybe I've been spending too much time at Grandfather's place mourning for the dead. What's done is done, after all and crying into your beer gets tedious after a while. I shall always be sorry for some of the things I have been involved in, but that's not going to help anybody - particularly if I let it grind me down so much. They're gone ... they ain't coming back.

I had remained at the house long enough to get really nervous about this whole deal with Marcus. I am not keen to betray anyone ever again and even with the best of motives this whole thing smacks of deceit at the very least. I told Marcus that I wasn't prepared to go ahead without gaining a wiser opinion on the matter - even if it did mean getting into trouble. Marcus suggested Phoenix, but I didn't like the idea of involving him in something so dubious and he seems run off his feet with his own affairs anyway. I settled for taking my life in my hands and asking Benedict.

After Lorenzo's interference (sometimes I think he's actively out to get me), there were some real spanners in the works and my plan started to wobble like a weeble in a high wind. Now that Corwin knew my ideas, the only way to pull it off if he gives it the thumbs down would be treason (I think). This being an uncomfortable subject I tried to ascertain if Benedict would squeal on me if I told him anything. He said;

"Without truth, there can be no justice."

While this is a truly deep, cool and bitching observation, it nevertheless made me slightly nervous. After being threatened by Mr Thingy however, (which is more of a thingy than I realised :-) I spilled my guts.

Benedict guessed my partner in crime without too much trouble, although at no point did I actually admit it. I've been told not to get Marcus into trouble - although he seems pretty good at getting there all by himself as far as I can tell. Benedict told me that I ought to take my time on this one and get to know Corwin better than I do. Seems like sound advice to me and I don't know Corwin's decision yet, after all. Even if he says no, I'm beginning to think that I don't have the nerve to go ahead anyway. Sure, I'd like Grandfather back - seems real unfair to start getting to know him only to have him nailed to a table a few months later - but I don't think I'm willing to wreck relationships with everyone else in the family over it. Self imposed exile is nearly as bad as the cells.

With a mind to increasing our weaponry when they come, Marcus and I took a trip to the Death Star. Boy, that place really screws your mind. I had a chat with Tangent - looks like he's lost a few marbles, poetic justice exists! If my memory serves me correctly it was him that started me on the path of the mentally unstable.

Tangent, or Tangerine as he shall henceforth be known, didn't seem exactly wild about the idea of helping me out. When I pointed out that if I go, he goes, he started waffling on about snatch squads. Hmm, I'll keep an eye out for that, but personally I'm prepared to go quite a long way to put his nose out of joint. I also talked to Mad Hetty, who appears alive and well and in the service of Balentine - whom I begin to suspect a relative of some sort ... I wonder if dad slipped up one time?

After talking to Dworkin, Suhey and Tangerine I was in a somewhat silly mood. In the interest of insane experimentation I encouraged Marcus to attempt a multiverse leap with the Spikard. We didn't end up where we'd planned, instead we appeared on the further edge of the Abyss. Kirkland was there with some daemons, scouring the area. Apparently they'd seen Brand crawl out of the Abyss and run off. Marcus and I took some plastercasts of the footprints and bodded off home to tell Corwin.

Corwin was understandably dischuffed. The Trump of Brand was flashing ice-cold and red-hot. I decided to do one of my split second connections and got my brain fried by a huge influx of information. When I woke up I was advised to take a powder and get some rest, so I zipped off to my sixties Shadow.

I had a "dream" which I don't believe to be entirely dreamlike anymore. It involved staggering around some Shadow in a state of confusion and eventually blowing up the Shadow people's heads by mistake. I awoke in a strange land with no clothes or artefacts. I have lost my entire standard deck and must retrieve it ...

I wander ... eventually, after much ado and another brain zap, I find myself now sitting next to some tents in a Shadow - we're on a Hellride to try again to communicate with this thing. At least that's what I want to do. One of the reasons I'm up so damn early is because Marcus woke me to have a private chat (a fairly ludicrous notion with Benedict about, but hey, the pretence is nice). Marcus expressed again his militaristic notions concerning the Brand entity. I suppose it's understandable that he is so paranoid about it, but personally I am tired of killing and fighting and would like to meet some intelligent life for a change. Either that or someone who's more interested in the swordplay than the bloodletting.

Marcus raised the interesting, though not entirely pleasant idea, that if more than one of us gains Psy contact with the entity we might get a repeat of the gestalt effect that was formed whilst trying to communicate with The Unicorn. I voiced my concern that Benedict might be inclined to eliminate anyone who got all that info out of his head and that we should make this possibility clear before we find the entity. Marcus said he would be happy enough to be gestalt with me, but I do not share his desire. Besides, I wouldn't wish the crap in my head on anyone. Even Dark would be uncomfortable for me ... I do not want to go through that again and will avoid it however I can.

It's an interesting time. I'm with it again, more or less, having shaken the gut-twisting paranoia and guilt that's crippled me since Vialle's death. Having Dark with me is unusual - I'm not sure why she wanted to come along. Maybe being of Amber has given her the adventure-lust that's run steady and true through my life? Anyway, let's make sure that her first true adventure as an Amberite isn't her last. She's an Amberite now ... adjust, adjust, adjust.

Okay, later, presumably, we will catch up with the Brand Entity. My personal priority is to communicate (rather than eliminate or capture). I've a pet theory that it's either Trump, Abyss or both, primarily. As a favourite I'd say Trump. Perhaps Brand's enormous powers, cut off from their owner, have become sentient? From the information I've had from it, I'd say it was still fairly confused, but the fact that it's "touched" me twice and my head hasn't gone poof might make it more inclined to be co-operative. This still leaves the puzzling question of the disempowered Brand trumps. Still, with all the information this entity has picked up, with any luck it's learnt the rudiments of language. Perhaps if I talk to it using the language common to the largest number of people it's destroyed, it will listen?

Presuming we draw this to a satisfactory conclusion, there are several things on my list.

Get back my Trump Deck - this must be done soon, ask Benny <grin> the best way to go about it.

Drop in on Martin - I want to see how the land lies there.

Get to know Corwin better - fine in theory, but how?

Check on Rowdy - make sure Angelic isn't mentally scarring the poor boy.

Tell dad about the possible "snatch" attempts - better safe than sorry. Contact him through a third party if this download thing isn't sorted.

Check back with Kirkland - see if he found anything.

BAD MOON RISING?

Well, for a start I got everything done except Martin, Corwin and Kirkland - so that's not bad going.

This morning Benedict got a call through from Uncle Cain who wanted to share with everyone the toy figures that Chaos are manufacturing of the Amber family. I hate to say it, but his sense of humour is perilously close to mine ...

Well, we moved on and soon came to a place that I kinda recognised, but in a deja-vu sort of way. It turned into a place that resembled Avalon and there was a keep with a long line of terrified people leading up to it.

Inquiring of the crowd gave us the information that an "Angry God" was popping heads within. We entered and found the entity sitting down, zapping some poor guys head. I persuaded it that it was engaged in a futile exercise and it agreed that it wasn't getting anywhere. When I made Psy contact with it, I received another small download but apart from that managed to keep my head in one place.

Most of my suspicions appear to have been validated. As far as I can tell, it's Brand's Trump energy coupled with whatever power he got from the spring of four worlds (or whatever it's called). It's mind is like a child's and while I downloaded the basics of eating and suchlike it still has a lot to learn. Language wise it's development is at once complex and inadequate. It's not going to be an easy thing dealing with this entity, which has chosen to call itself Moon.

We went back to Averick, to eat and think about the situation. Half-Hazlen tells me that all is going well there, with no trouble from either Cardinal Richeleau or the King - which is unusual, but then history there is taking a different course this time round.

While we were eating, I made contact with the Pattern Ghosts. The first one I got was Osric, which troubles me somewhat. From my conversations with Fiona, I suspect that the act of making contact in this fashion somehow leads the pattern Ghosts to a new awareness of time and position. It remains to be seen whether Osric can actually *do* anything about it, but I shall remain cautious. If I can find a better way of talking to the deceased, I believe I shall take it.

Fiona (apart from being naturally anxious to return to the land of the corporeal) didn't have a whole load to add. She did confirm many of my guesses though and after her invaluable help against Them, I shall not discount any of what she said.

While Marcus went to search for a suitably blocked Shadow and Dark and Benedict kept an eye on the sleeping Moon, I went to tell Corwin our progress. I was afraid that a knee-jerk "kill it! Kill it!" might be in the offing, but was pleasantly surprised. Corwin seems to be thinking it over, but in the meantime I will do nothing to accelerate the entity's progress at any great rate - it is still more than possible that Moon may be a great undoing rather than a boon. Caution is called for, though as long as Chaos remain ignorant, we should be relatively safe.

As per my plans, I managed to gain entry to the Shadow where Rowdy is being held. Things there are not ideal, but a great deal better than I had dared to hope. I left Rowdy my card and had a Trump made by Marcus. I also filled Rowdy in on the impending trouble with Them and voiced my concern that he would not be safe where he was. He chose to stay for the moment and I left Surprise with him. I will await Angelic's explosion, which is partially justified. I am interfering in what should have been her affair, but my promise to Flora made it my affair too and Angelic must learn to live with that with more grace - I am very tired of her insolence in the face of my efforts.

Now I'm taking the first stint of looking after Moon. I can teach him how to build a log cabin if nothing else. I was thinking about persuading him to grow a beard - it might lessen the impact of his features a little if he meets the others. One thing that needs to be done is to educated him in the way of controlling his power and he definitely needs to be taught that if he loses his temper, blowing up heads is not acceptable behaviour.

I hope it all works out for him - and us.

Just had a Trump call from Angelic - after a lengthy discussion (details would be too boring to consider) she has asked me to educate her son in the ways of Amber. This should be interesting ... I'm surprised she didn't ask Lorenzo. I told her I'd call just as soon as I have the time - IE: when I'm not Moon-watching.

CONFESSION

I am whatever passes for the Antichrist in Amber. Brand, Mandor, Tangent - Amateurs.

Now I don't know what to do. Perhaps I can undo the past - I suspect not. If I can't, what then? The safest, sanest thing to do would be to keep my gob shut, but then sanity has never been a strong point with me (not post-Tangent anyway) and I really don't think I can live with a secret like this. Not only that, I do seem to have the touch of doom about me and the last thing I want to do is be the cause of any more grief. My own personal well-being pales into insignificance next to the well-being of the multiverses.

I think I'll just turn myself in and hope for the best. If I wasn't all tied up with dad like I am I could just try to get to Them before they get to us. There is a limit to how suicidal I can be these days though. Besides, in Shadow, there are too many chances for me to do something seemingly innocent that would later destroy us all.

(player stuff )

Wee-eel. I thought about it and this actually seems the only sensible option Astus has left. He's gotta be convinced he's a jinx by this stage and there's only so much guilt one person can take. He'll get Marcus to watch Moon.

He'll leave a note to Dark, as usual, apologising profusely. Cold Steel will be hung up on its nail by the bed.

He'll wrap up The Gun as well and leave it and the note below with Wisdom, who is instructed to pass it on to Benedict at the soonest opportunity.

(player stuff ends)

My dear uncle,

there is a Shining Ones type rat on the loose in shadow. Its last known location was (insert relevant details here). You're the only person I can think of who could possibly catch up with the little bugger and wipe it out. I created it - all of them, I think, so someone better get it before it turns into a super-Pattern-powered-rat-genius and wipes out life as we know it.

As I have often suspected, I am an instrument of doom - 99.9 percent sure on that one now thanks to the rat. For the sake of Amber, please convince Corwin to keep me where I am, he wouldn't listen to me - thinks I'm crackers. Probably right, but even so.

Perhaps the damage can be undone - tell Marcus that I should never have gone to the future, I think he can put two and three together, so maybe he can stop me.

Oh yeah, before I forget - watch for Mad Hettey's arrival, she may have more weapons you can use.

Absolutely mortified. Nothing else to say.

Yours in-debt-to-you-well-over-my-head-shame-I-don't-have-better-credit-really ...

A.V.

After that, Astus will ask the nearest guard if he can borrow his Psy barrier (as has oft been done before) and then mindfuck the guy into thinking that Corwin has ordered him to lock Astus up in a maximum security cell. Could this be another flaw in the Castle Guard? (grin)

He will take with him; Trumps, Pattern Trumps, chalk, Razor + mirror - nothing else.

Maybe Astus can work on contacting the dead while he's in there or something. He's still got the Pattern Trumps so maybe he can ask Oberon for a few pointers? All that peace and quiet has to help ...

THE X-FILES

Who would have thought that Astus Vie in the cells would be so controversial? My relatives are either the most annoying people in the multiverse or the greatest - I can't decide.

Nobody believes I'm an angel of death, which is a pity because I happen to think it's true. I mean, the day I was born I managed to kill my mother - how's that for jinxed? I'm not sure how much use I'm gonna be. The general consensus is that in my present mood I'm no good to anyone. We agree on that front at least.

The semi-shining rat I created really shook me up something bad. Lorenzo killed it and brought it back. It was sterile and not nearly as powerful as I had feared, but what they all seem to have forgotten is that the experiment didn't re-create all the factors involved. The two rats I bred it from did not walk the Pattern, they walked an inscription. Also the rat itself did not walk the Pattern (inscription or otherwise). The experiment still unnerves me greatly and I remain pretty sure that I am responsible for at least one of the Shining Ones. Par for the course, Astus.

This is obviously not my entire reason for feeling so crap, I know myself better than that. It's just the latest in a very long line of deaths, bad calls and huge errors on my part. Random and Vialle really did it for me - I cannot forgive myself for anything I did at that time - the best I've managed so far is to hide it under a thin veneer of hysterical laughter (thanks Marcus, it made a pleasant change). If I could bring them both back I would, but one without the other ... I feel so amazingly shitty. Friggin' two-faced, back-stabbing, Judas bastard.

*Sigh* Well, it looks as though very shortly I'm going to have to go back to sitting in Grandfather's house crying into my beer ... I'm getting very good at that - I can sob in three different languages. I can't believe I'm joking about it.

There are things that need doing. Fortunately for all around me I've managed to persuade those that count that my best place is in the role of distraction, or possibly bait. I have a few ideas about how to safeguard Dark, Anna and Griff (not to mention the house) and if I make the study off-limits I can be a miserable old bastard in there, out of their way. Dark is really pissed with me, which is okay, because I'm really pissed with me ...

Operation Necropolis (which is as good a name as any) is, umm, is something anyway. While I was in the cell I talked to Vialle, which was sort of nice and horrible at the same time. I have no way of telling if it was really her. I hope it was - I asked Vialle how it was that I could talk to her now and she started giving me some spiel about the moon being right and all that. I do not believe that - too coincidental. The very day I am back in the cells? Get real. There has to be another explanation - either that or I screwed up again by interrupting the real method. There's a sobering thought. I have some studying to do on this one.

Dworkin has given me a book, which he says is a map. It has something to do with a place without time and as far as I can tell that's where They're coming from. It's so-oo tempting to go out in style rucking the Shining Ones on their home base. Unfortunately, even if I wasn't linked to dad, Dark is probably reason enough to feel guilty about offing myself. Shame that, it's definitely the easy way to feeling better and pretending that you don't feel like falling on your own sword kinda wears you out after a while.

Hello circular guilt track, how are you today? I'd love to ride on you all night long, but I'm going to take some valium later so I can go to bed and sleep without spending all night counting the cracks in the ceiling.

Dad's coming back in a couple of weeks. Course, I'll be at Grandfather's by then, which is probably for the best, even if I do miss the old bear. He looked so happy last time I saw him, I'd hate to bum him out by being a living downer. I sorted his room a trifle, it's such a pisser coming back from a holiday to housework, don't you think? With any luck at some point I'll have the chance to get to know Rosemary a little better too. Heh.

Fiona is back, or something that seems to be Fiona. She's organised a trip to that poison palace in the sky tomorrow night. I think I'll Trump anchor for the occasion. I have no real reason to trust her right now and even less cause to trust Cloud City.

Once the Cloud City thing is done, I am leaving. All I'm doing here is pissing people off and putting them in danger. If we get out of this Shining Ones thing alive, I've got some serious thinking to do. Maybe I'll go to the Shadow I got my MD in and speed it up again. See if I can calm myself down a little, become a Buddhist for a while or something - maybe hang out with the lads and see if I can become a bit more like myself, because this sure ain't me. If that doesn't work maybe I'll just snort a huge quantity of coke and see how I feel after that ...

Providing Grandfather doesn't tear me limb from limb first. I can't believe I mouthed off like that, not to him. I must be insane ...

Oh well, a cell or an island it comes to the same thing.

When does the hurting stop?

WISH YOU WERE HERE

Without truth there can be no Justice, eh? Well there has been precious little of either in recent years as far as I can tell. That's why I like Eric so much, he's honest.

Infantile, brutal, dogmatic, but honest. I kinda like him the way nature lovers like sharks.

So if Eric is Truth (albeit a painful kind of truth), Benedict just has to be Wisdom and I know I'm Death; who's Justice? Phoenix? It wouldn't be the first time I've heard the connection made between the two. Dad is Strength, in more than one sense, I think - I wish he'd lend me some, I don't want to be Death. I wonder what the others are? I wonder if that's what we really are? Maybe Shadow created us, instead of the other way around. Maybe we are the physical representation of all those things that are so important to Shadow.

On the other hand, maybe I'm talking bollox ... too many book fumes.

I called Eric the other day. He's as charming as ever, and I as tactful. Fortunately, I don't feel the need to have my admiration reciprocated <evil grin>. If he's going to be any use to the others at all, it will not be willingly. It's a shame really. I thought Amber meant more to him than a birthright. Looks like I was wrong.

Jerk

Loser

Jerk

Loser ...

The trip to Cloud City went ahead as planned. They didn't need Trump anchors and due to my status as informant, I could not go up there either. Since I do not know what they saw or did, I can't say an awful lot about it. Dark went. I did not know she was going. She said something about a paradox (the Griffon one, which has kept me up pondering for many a night) and she said that it was not entirely my fault.

This is a significant shift from, "it isn't your fault". I have not been entirely wrong then - which I find strangely re-assuring. Perhaps my judgement isn't as off-centre as I thought (or as Lorenzo keeps telling me). Perhaps. I'll be cautious.

I had a couple of stabs at talking to Benedict, as I had planned to do whilst in the cell. However, since I have no idea how to put it into words, it's a trifle difficult. I ended up blabbering as usual - he must think I'm a real idiot *sigh*. Even if I had the words, there is no guarantee I could say them. I have this communication problem, you see. Hmm. I hope Marcus sorts his problems out before They get here anyway ...

One thing I did manage was to apologise to Grandfather, properly and without mumbles; a rare feat I hope he appreciates if we meet again. He told me how to make Fiona more permanent, so she'll last a little longer. He also pointed me towards something which may help in the upcoming conflict. Of course I screwed it up again by opening my big gob - mind you, he didn't exactly help either. I chose not to point that out however ... Oh yes, he was in a pretty bad mood anyway and when I enquired as to why, he snapped that it was because he was dead. I wonder if he gave something away there? I mean, he must know, mustn't he? I'd feel a lot better if he were here - I'm sure I'm gonna make a mess of things on my own.

So, I am in the house now and despite all temptation to the contrary I believe I shall have to leave my Trumps well alone - now that I have sorted Angelic. Perhaps the potion Shea gave me will help too. It appears to be all down to waiting now and I'm so bad at waiting. I have told the crewmen to be ready to depart at the drop of a hat - I for one will not rely on Trump to get my wife and children out of danger.

The warning systems are set. I'm not sure if they'll bother with me at first, but in a perverse way I'm hoping they do. I seriously want to kill these fuckers. Let's face it, I want to fight. Fighting's what I do best. Fighting doesn't have all these complicated emotions attached. Blood is all; how much you lose, how much you make them lose. Fear and anger occur but they take a back seat to the red haze. There has been too much of this bloodletting, but now I long for its simplicity.

I will wait. I will exercise what patience I have. I will study and copy Dworkin's book and play my music until They come. I am Death with a jesters mask, so let Them face me as I truly am. They can die. I know they can die. Let the jinx work on them too ...

THANKS A *HEAP* GRANDFATHER

I feel like a pawn, a plaything. Abused, generally and sodding unhappy about it. Now I know all that happened in Cloud City. Now I know what a true tool of destruction I have been. My mind's on fire - I cannot think! Grandfather wants me to co-ordinate and I cannot think straight! No-one will help me, I don't know how to ask ...

Three women came, I know of them, but cannot place the name. They gave me names, places. I have to decipher and it will take time - Dark could do it quicker but I'm afraid to be near her. I'm afraid to be near anyone. I have a map, a compass and a medikit. Where should I go from here? He say's stay at the house - co-ordinate. Send the others out to look, set up some kind of surgery here for the inevitable wounded? Dining table's nice and roomy ...

Is Llewella still alive? I can't remember - that's awful! Caine, Caine I rescued at the same time as Llewella, she should still live - I'll have to check the card.

I can't shake off this feeling of doom, it's no good for the situation. Bugger it, Oberon, why me?! I can't think of a worse candidate - Lorenzo might be out for whatever he can get, but at least his head's screwed on right (apart from the lemming tendency). Phoenix! Phoenix would be an excellent choice! Why didn't you pick him? You want everyone to get offed because I've lost it at the wrong time? I'm not the leading type - I'm *particularly* not the leading from the rear type.

Marcus is a pain - been playing up to the mad image rather inappropriately (there's a time and a place for that - I wish I was acting). Whopped him one, not feeling tolerant. Still, he's a fast learner and he's definitely growing on me. Just what I need, a fellow trouble magnet.

Trumped Jarok, threatened same with imminent death - I was lying, obviously. I hope he keeps his head down till it's all over, no room in my mind for serious domestics. Hope he understands later - possible future son in law and all that. What am I saying? Of course he isn't going to understand. Heck *I* don't understand what's going on in my head most of the time.

Dad came, seemed anxious to leave, which was disappointing. Ummed and shrugged a lot. Tried asking dad for help. Either I didn't make my distress clear (entirely possible) or he wasn't listening (equally possible, I'm afraid). Nearly said something really mean. True, but mean. I would have regretted it, I hate fighting with him. Can't he see how much trouble I'm having? Does he care?

Can't ask Benedict, always screw it up and he's done too much for me already - way too much. This is the sort of thing I'd normally take to Vialle ... t'riffic - I've seen how she'd handle it.

Please, please let this stop. Let it end one way or the other. I cannot take this much longer it's tearing me apart.

*Sigh* maybe I should try Dark again - I need a fellow researcher - I need help, dammit! Trouble is we aren't getting on so good these days. Well, she's getting on great with everything except me and I'm getting on terribly with everything ... especially me.

Had the weirdest dream the other night. I dreamt I nailed my own head to the deck with an arbelast bolt - that's what you get for crashing out in a chair with your face in a book three nights running.

Okay, okay, I need a plan. Ask Dark to decipher the code and I'll work on the map - it's more my scene anyway. Ahh, maybe when I figure the map out I can sic dad on it, provided he has the time (sarcasm mode off). Maybe when They come Llewella can run the medical stuff. Get Marcus to keep checking on the Death Star - it's a good lookout tower if nothing else. I'm not sure about Lorenzo, he's probably got enough worries, poor bastard.

I should ask Benedict to keep a few guys on Caine, he's on his own so much that he's a great target for Them and a great weapon against Lorenzo. Lorenzo's a huge weakness, if he goes so does Benedict and he's much more lemming-like than Martin... hmmm. He wouldn't take an order from me, maybe ask Benedict to keep him out of the front line and always with someone? He'd listen to Ben.

Should run all this by Benedict and Corwin anyway. They can tell me if I'm barking up the wrong tree - or just plain barking. Should talk to Martin about his end too, find out what's planned - that's gonna be depressing. Oh well, what's new?

UNTITLED

Alright ... what's real? What isn't? Does it matter?

Oh, Moon, Moon, where the heck are you? Can I get him back from the construct (or whatever it was)? I don't know if anyone else is gonna bother trying. What if Moon is the construct?

Poor Rowdy's out of his mind (I can sympathise) and it's largely thanks to the Shining bastards. I'm a bit annoyed that Surprise didn't tip me off to him walking the Pattern last time I asked how things were going. Maybe I wasn't talking to Surprise? Maybe I'm just a brain in a jar on Grandfather's bookshelf? Ha!

Alright ... given that there is no way of telling what's real and what isn't - hey, maybe I finally totally freaked and this is a fantasy? Either way, I ought to make the best of things.

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