This is a collection of GM's notes; the last session was around a campfire, with the GM largely narrating the "what happened from here" story that progressed beyond the end of the campaign.
Benedict, as the blade you have buried in Malachai slides free of your grasp, Malachai's curse falls upon you and, in likelihood, your family, friends, and allies -- all the same, you've come to expect it falls most heavily upon you.
Something draws your attention away from this, however, if only for a moment. The Dark Power within you is fading, the connection evaporating. Dworkin walks over to you, a strange and mildly surprised look on his face. "You feel it too, of course...? Hm, yes." He looks down at the sword, Greyswandir, still driven into the ground. "They're leaving... back, I suspect, to whereever it is they came from. But why? Did they get what they came for? And if so, what was it?"
[Allow for a little player-driven conversation, here.]
It should end with, at least, Dworkin gesturing towards Grayswandir and saying, "Take that, for a time. I suspect you'll need it."
[Then, we move on to Sybil]
At some point not too long after the big fight, Sybil emerges from the earth. Was the fight with Kolvir conclusive? Not as such ... but the countryside and the mountain beat themselves against each other until neither had the energy left to go on fighting, and subsided ...
In fact, Sybil would conclude that they may have gone into a deeper hibernation, as neither appear to answer any subsequent call.
Then comes the issue of her state; she remains incorporeal, silvery, ghostly. Dworkin, pressed, ultimately explains (though probably to someone else, or to a group, hence the third person):
"She is not supposed to be here anymore, you see. When her mother ascended to Tir-na Nog'th, and Malachai had the chance to lay hands on her newborn child, I reached out and convinced Tir-na Nog'th to move her somewhere safer, or at least to a place where our present perils would already be decided. That place is in times to come; the future. In effect, I caused her to start anew, some time from now.""This presented a curious issue for Sybil, I'm afraid. While the Faerie have no strong issues with paradox, mortals such as ourselves run into a bit more of a problem with it. When the transformation hit all of Faerie, I believe the paradox transmuted into an unbreakable link between this kingdom and there... but regardless, the issue is Sybil, isn't it, and I'm rambling again."
"Sybil went on just fine for a while, as she retained her faerie nature, even through that realm's transformation... but that nature has changed this night, and with it -- with her faerie self split off from the mortal and, by appearances, lost to us -- she has become vulnerable to that paradox. The daughter cannot precede the mother. And, so... hm. And so, I am not sure what she has become."
"My current theory is that she is a spirit waiting to be born, and she may be tied to the waxing and waning of the moon, at that. There's a better than even chance that as time marches on toward the advent of her mother, she will appear to grow younger, bit by bit, until she reemerges as a babe from her mother's womb. What her mother will be in the face of Faerie's change, and thus, what Sybil will be, I cannot say."
"For what it is worth, Sybil, I am sorry that my actions lead to this. They are, unfortunately, not reversible. Tir lets us play tricks with time if we know how, but time all the same moves ever forward. It is the one constant of the universe."
[Pause for more player-driven conversation]
Finndo, eventualy, makes his way to the ship from which Rast had been launched, upon whose deck stood a man in a mask and the last of his men.
His men remain, as does a sword driven into the deck, and a mask hanging upon its hilt. A letter is found with that mask. It reads:
Finndo.
This is the last mask I will wear. You do not know my face
and, for now, I don't wish that you come to. A final bit
of professional paranoia, if you will. It may interest you
to know that the scars faded some time ago; the hints that
you saw of them here and there were a necessary fiction.
Feel free to try what Trumps you may have of me, but -- no
slight intended to you -- I do not expect they will work.
What you've known of me was an onion-skin, and with this
letter, this mask, I peel off the last of who I was.
As a part of this purging, an explanation, as best I can
manage. It is of course your prince's prerogative as to
whether or not you share it with anyone. I care not.
As a child, I knew that Oberon had a plan for me, a cover
I had to live beneath until this very day. I was enlisted
early on to help maintain the veracity of that cover;
while I suspect you did not believe the "accident" that
gave me my scars was such a thing, the truth of it is that
_I_ perpetrated the event, not my instructor.
It was shortly afterward that Oberon revealed the fullness
of his plan, the true reasons motivating the ruse that was
my life. I was to be the deepest cover agent ever
conceived.
My instructions were to remain close and by all
appearances loyal, while preparing for every contingency,
every threat possible -- including that of the King
himself. Oberon told me that there were vast powers in the
universe who called him enemy, and that some day they
might subvert him, turn him against the kingdom he meant
to build -- and if the kingdom went, so would the world.
No pressure or anything.
What was most key, he said, was to watch his behaviors,
come to know him as best I could and, if those behaviors
became a different pattern altogether -- start setting
things in motion.
The cover within the cover -- that I was an heir to the
Androsian throne -- provided an adequate context to
explain my own sudden shift of behavior under such a
circumstance.
Once this was explained to me, and once I accepted it, he
saw to it that he be made to forget its very existence,
and the real truth of my birth. I fear that the
forgetfulness may have contributed to his later
degeneration, but by that point the deed was done and I
had my orders.
The best weapon I had available to me, once the time came,
was Rast. But I knew him to be a target, and had to get
him off the stage. My temporary alliance with the Children
of Nod needed a few gestures of commitment, if I was to
gain the resources of them that I needed to assay the
Pattern without any aid from those closer to Oberon. Rast
and, alas, Sonnet, were the ideal gestures to keep that
plan moving on.
Rast's complicity in the faking of his own death was easy,
as was impersonating Karm for the few moments it took;
while Rast had no head for such planning, he did have a
head for taking instruction, and knew, at least, that I
was on a secret mission for the Crown. It was enough for
him.
Sonnet's demise was a necessary side-effect of my trip in
and out of the castle, a payment for the ride I hitched.
I'd say I'm sorry to have robbed you of so capable a
secretary, but your replacement of her seems to have
talents of her own.
Regardless, I imagine you can fill in the rest.
Best of luck to you, Finndo. I wish the brightness of your
future be secondary only to my own. And if our paths
should cross again, and you should know who I am, be
careful. It will be a new me.
You'll find aboard this ship my survivors. They have been
loyal to the last, and would die as the others if I so
ordered it. I am gladdened there was no need to spend them
thus. They are the kingdom's now; I'd say they're yours,
but something tells me you may not stay around as long as
others might think.
Selm.
P.S. Don't think she fools me for a moment. Tell her, I'll be in touch.
[Here we allow for some general interaction and scening, if the players desire. Rilga tends to Rast, and verifies that Oberon appears to be alive, just badly injured and in something of a deep coma. If Finndo checks on Grevlok, he finds that Grevlok is somewhat dented, but otherwise in good shape.]
[Then, we move on to the near future.]
Sybil, still insubstantial, begins to take on a role as guardian spirit, counselor, and a speaker for ghosts. It is through this role that she begins to build an understanding and alliance, of a sort, with Osric.
Osric, meanwhile, is left uncertain about whether or not he has dodged fate -- all this time, he's been fleeing the vision that some day he will die by a family member's hand.
He begins to establish a stronger presence in and about the kingdom during the time of Oberon's recovery; he shows up where conflicts arise, mediating and quelling in equal parts, acting as an agent of the Crown without ever quite being publically named such, save through the title of Prince. Osric is personally responsible for settling several major disputes that arise in the Vell Duchies, and later on, some historians cite him as the man who began the process that reunited the clans in that region. Osric also manages to see to it that the Vells do not trouble Savoy, though no one ever quite manages to figure that one out.
Through conversations with Sybil and visits to her new home, he begins to become familiar with the ways of Tir, as well; and as above, so below -- he makes the occasional visit to the watery realm that comes to call itself Rebma.
Osric and the King of Colors see to it, as the reflective bond between the kingdom of the land and the kingdom of the sea grows, that that bond is represented in physical form, with the formation of the Faiella-Bionin stairway into the sea. The name is Osric's, in part, made so in light of Dworkin's theory that the former Queen's paradox is the cause of the bond between sister Kingdoms. While there, he assays that Pattern, too, the first to gain familiarity with all three.
He searches for, but never finds, Osrat's armor.
In all, in the months that come, he establishes himself more strongly as a prince of the realm than he had in the past, as Oberon's recovery proceeds. This never manages to mitigate the fact that people get uneasy around him, though: rumors abound that he can read minds.
Cyrus, meanwhile, newly informed and freed of a few obligations (such as helping to save the universe), begins his quest to find his daughter. Even with Sybil's aid, Aine's whereabouts are not determined; Kolvir has fallen silent, but what she is able to determine suggests that Aine has not been with the mountain for some time.
Cyrus, all the same, continues to hope against hope, while tending to his duties as Admiral of the fleet. Using his knowledge of the Pattern, he helps push the fleet's operations out into near Shadow, and is responsible for the laying of some of the first few shadow-paths, in time.
No one argues with him when he uses the Navy to help out his merchant fleet business, which continues to generate embarrasingly large revenues for years to come.
When not at sea nor actively searching for news of his daughter, he spends a quiet life at home, with his wife. They do not produce another child.
Rilga steps firmly into the role of her new life as physician-in-residence at the castle, and supervises Oberon's recovery. She also sees to it that as much as she influences the events that come, in her own small ways, here and there, that she goes unnoticed for it. Having been two people is quite enough for her; being a third one, a figure of history is out of the question... at least for a time.
Finndo's early tale from here is one of responsibilities, which should shock no one. He spends his time in and about the castle as Oberon walks the road to recovery.
While playing at Regent, Finndo sees that several of those responsibilities are discharged once and for all.
The Knights of the Mountain are firmly established at the top of the knightly orders; their position remains firm to the present day, despite any number of changes over the years.
Grevlok receives several extremely large flame-retardant books, and learns to read.
Sejak is offered the retirement of his choice, should he wish it; he does, and goes on to become lord of the Land of Milk and Honey.
In so doing, he leaves a post that would have been available to him open -- that of Minister of Security -- which Finndo fills with a recently healed Lord Selqas Karm, arguably the best man in the kingdom to be wary of hidden vipers.
Savoy's transition to open matriarchal rule is solidified under Finndo's guiding hand.
Finndo continues to work with Sybil to help him get messages and ears put in various places around the kingdom. During this time, he regains some feeling in his legs, though much of the function remains impaired.
In time, Lord Tarraign begins to stir. For the months that follow, he moves about as though his wits are in a haze -- which barely reduces the formidability of his intellect, when he puts his mind to it.
Benedict's life is rough and separate from the others, as his fears about Malachai's curse take hold. He warns Logan about the curse, but in the months that come, the warning simply isn't enough, and his marriage with Alyra falls into disarray. They are never divorced, but he spends little time in her company and, eventually, little time in the Kingdom itself, as he removes himself from Homewood and from Amber, not wishing to cause further grief.
He blames himself for every misfortune that crosses his path, and withdraws into himself, removing most outward vestiges of emotion. In time, he is known only to the Shadows, where he can assure him that the blight he inflicts does not matter.
[Pause for commentary, scenes-from-the-midst, and so on. If none, move on to the final section.]
[And now we go into even deeper time-speed: the history of the future.]
The King of Colors completes his metamorphosis by taking a new name and making it known to his subjects: Lir.
Osric's bonds with Tir-na Nog'th and Rebma continue to grow as time marches on; an independent agent for the Kingdom, he acts as he sees fit, his goals determined by the priorities he thinks are best. Equal time is spent in Amber, Shadow, and foreign kingdoms, and he is responsible for introducing many of the exotic tastes in the Amber populace that continue through the time of Corwin's chronicles.
Lord Tarraign passes away, quietly and in peace, some several years after his recovery. The succession within his Duchy is handled dispassionately, and the scholarly pursuits continue in grand tradition.
Oberon, a bit hobbled and visibly aged, retakes the throne, properly, inside of the first few years. Finndo slowly begins to extract himself from his duties as Oberon's health, under Rilga's care, improves.
As for Sybil, Dworkin's theory ultimately bears out, and Sybil begins to go full circle; having progressed from childhood to adult, as a spirit, she begins to move from adulthood to infancy.
Her powers (sans glamours) remain, but in time they begin to contract in scope, eventually only able to affect things in the realm of Tir-na Nog'th. But still she is able to watch over her brothers, and the recovering kingdom, below.
In an effort to help Finndo, Sybil allows herself to act as a conduit for Finndo's lost love one night, and the encounter goes terribly wrong. Neither shares the details. Sybil sulks silently in Tir for months, and Finndo takes the event as his cue to leave Amber for a time.
Osric by this point firmly establishes himself as the greatest Pattern master in the kingdom to date. Oberon, true to old form, continues to keep his second son at arm's length.
Decades later, a Gheneshi man in the colorful robes of a sorceror is found lying dead at the gate of castle Amber. Rilga privately identifies the remains as belonging to Ruustro, and gives a Lady's prayer for her former boss, the absent Prince.
Rilga remains the King's physician throughout, eventually taking on a position as castle Steward, keeping her public image small, her duties at the fore. It is during this time that she builds a new relationship with her secret father, Lord Karm, and the two come to respect one another as peers in service of the kingdom. Ironically, it is perhaps the closest Sonnet ever gets to her dad.
All does not go well for Karm, however, in the years that follow. The Lord Minister begins to take public issue with Osric's affiliations with the other realms, particularly the undersea kingdom of Rebma. Intense discussion occurs between the two of them, sometimes polite, sometimes... less so. Karm persists in his opinion that Osric has too much free reign and is due to cause incidents that will threaten the kingdom. Rilga, alas, is unable to talk him down from his position.
Oberon remains studiously silent throughout, but when Karm dies suddenly of a heart-attack, he demands that Osric leave his kingdom.
Osric, tired of trying, and having had all he can take of his father's kingdom, obliges.
Years pass, and Oberon remains unmarried.
The spirit-Sybil is still around around when magic begins to leave the Kingdom of Amber, much as it left the empire of Ildros in ages past. It is like a great vise closing down upon the "valve" that feeds the mortals their sources of power; in time, only the Pattern, minor magics, and certain kinds of sorcery, diminished in effect, remain. Only the most cunning and powerful retain a measure of their arts.
If Oberon knows why it happens, he does not let on.
Homewood never quite recovers from the ravages of Malachai's final plans, and when Logan Dorr passes away, it fractures into a number of smaller baronies, where people remain. The forest of Arden passes directly under the crown's control.
Alyra lives on in quiet solitude in the forest, though every few years she goes through a wild phase and disappears into its depths for weeks at a time.
Lord Cyrus continues to be one of the great Admirals of Amber's history. His men come to refer to him as the Haunted Man, however, owing to his tendency to stand on the deck of his ship, late into the night, staring towards the summit of Kolvir, under the light of the moon.
When Lady Rosewood dies in attempting to give birth to their stillborn second child, however, Cyrus can insulate himself from reality no longer. The deaths crush him, and take away his will to command. He suddenly resigns his commission as admiral and boards a boat out to sea, anonymously, and quietly. His mourning, and aimless wandering through Shadow, lasts decades.
More time passes, and those who remain begin to forget Sybil as she was. At once, she's among them as a ghost; later, she's a curiosity, much as the hall of mirrors is a curiosity, present at odd times, delivering cryptic messages. Yet later, she is a murmur of ancient history, a child spirit of some power in Tir-na.
It is in this last phase that she is adopted by a small family in Tir, a man who was once a Prince, and a wife who was long-ago lost.
They care for Sybil as she recedes into infancy, and then...
A woman in silver and grey, with dark hair and palest skin, appears in the City in the Sky. She carries with her an infant child, a boy, and comes to the ground. It is Faiella, and she is much changed; calmer, more human, more mortal -- but still touched by the forgotten Fae.
Shortly, she and Oberon come to know one another; Rilga manages to make herself even more invisible during the subsequent courtship, and soon, Oberon and Faiella are married. The babe, who proves to be Oberon's son, is named Eric.
A daughter is born not long after; they name her Deirdre. She is Sybil reincarnate, but remembers nothing of her former life.
Eric grows up a capable and talented bastard. Faiella proves to have no head for motherhood, and so Rilga takes both Eric and Deirdre under her wing, coming to treat the girl as a younger sister, and training the boy to Finndo's princely qualities: Charisma, leadership, administration. Deirdre, she secretly instructs in martial matters, to keep her on a more even footing with her brothers as the years go on. Deirdre, alas, also gains a talent for being underhandedly charming, a talent which she unwittingly comes to use on Eric and, once he is born, Corwin. It is one of the roots of the rift between those brothers in the coming years.
Faiella develops a jealousy during a fight with Oberon and demands that he send Rilga out of the castle. Reluctantly, Oberon sends her to Bran Brasil to watch over the now quite aging Lord Rast. Rast proposes to Rilga in short order, and she accepts.
In the years that come, Corwin of Amber is born. As he matures into a capable and favored young teen, a threat manifests from beyond the mountains.
In the intervening time, Ghenesh has rebuilt itself under a stronger, military regime. Their early attacks against Amber are rebuffed, but they prove an implacable foe; eventually, they overrun the Iron Duchies with their elite Moonrider forces, and threaten to take more, turning their gaze south, towards the fertile heartlands of Amber.
Oberon and his two youngest sons journey to the front to see what might be done about it. They arrive in time to see the Moonriders sweeping through a mountain pass, towards the lands of the south. They are too late...
But from the south, meeting the moonriders in the pass, is a much smaller force -- Draconis soldiers, by the look of it -- they can't possibly hope to do more than slow the Moonriders down -- but at the head of that force is a long-absent Prince of the realm. His appearance is gaunt, his expression austere and lethal. It is Benedict, and he, together with a handful of men, proceed to singlehandedly hold the pass against the advance of the Moonriders.
Every moment of the fight, every gambit, maneuver, swordstroke, everything, burns its way brightly into the memory of the young, impressionable Prince Corwin. It is there that he comes to realize what a Prince can truly be. It is there that he first feels the gift of song rise in his heart. Eric looks at him, and seems to realize what has come to pass, and a shadow passes over his own heart.
When Benedict comes before his father and the brothers he has not yet met, when he hears Corwin's first and best ballad, he passes his sword, Greyswandir, into the young Crown Prince's hands. "I suspect you'll need it," is all he says. Inwardly, the place for Corwin in Eric's heart grows darker still.
Benedict disappears again, after a private, sharp conversation with his father, as quickly as he came, to continue his chase after dark powers, and fleeing the shadow of his curse.
Lord Rast dies not long after, having seen his last war. His second funeral is a grand affair, and Oberon, against Faiella's wishes, invites his widow back to the castle.
Within the next decade, Oberon is divorced. Privately, he tells Rilga that he cannot make her his queen, so soon after Rast's death. It would cost him support. But he must have her, and so he spirits her off into Shadow, and visits her over the coming years.
Cyrus returns to Amber, much changed, under an assumed name. His grief has driven him to turn his will in upon himself; having failed, year after year, to find something in Shadow able to well and truly kill him -- while putting up a good fight, of course -- he has finally chosen to face the one foe who might have a hope of doing him in. Himself.
It is by his own will that he has managed to force himself to age, having come to see his near-immortality as the blood of Amber as a curse, not a blessing. He settles down on a small island in the nearby ocean, and glowers at his former kingdom night and day, as the lines of age set themselves into his face.
Still, he ages slowly, for a normal man, and lives there for years to come.
In this self-imposed exile, he remains only marginally aware of the events going on in the kingdom, gleaning details from travellers and the occasional unknowing relative who passes by his rock, always briefly.
It is while he is in this place that he misses the return of his daughter.
She is full-grown by now, and fully in her power as bestowed upon her in her ordeal within Kolvir. The very volcanic fire of that primordial being is infused within her; she is passionate, devious, and committed to goals she learned long ago. Her hair is, of course, red, as Cyrus's was before it turned grey, and she calls herself Clarissa, the witch.
In time, she and Oberon are wed, and she bears him three children, two boys and a girl. Each pregnancy is tied to a secret ritual that ensures, together, they will set into motion a chain of events that will once and for all eradicate the Pattern from Kolvir, her ultimate goal.
The marriage is, appropriately, firey, and ultimately suffers from an unsurprising case of burnout. Clarissa's fate is unknown; she simply disappears one day, and Oberon says little of it other than "she is queen no more."
Cyrus obliviously sinks deeper into self-imposed age.
Selm comes to Rilga out in Shadow during Oberon's marriage to Clarissa. They concoct a scheme together -- by this point, Oberon has been gone long enough from Rilga's shadow, due to his marriage to Clarissa, that it is entirely plausible that Rilga might have a full-grown son by him.
And so, when Oberon returns to her, he discovers a new member of the family. Rilga, for reasons of her own, has named him Caine.
And by this point, Oberon no longer cares for the politics of home; he brings Rilga and his "new" son back to Amber, marries her, calling her the one woman he has truly loved over the years.
Caine takes over command of the navy in the decades that follow. He is joined by two other brothers; Julian, who is bequeathed the forest of Arden, and Gerard, a phenomenally strong prince who eventually becomes Caine's counterpart on the sea. Together, the sons of Rilga become the most stalwart protectors the realm has seen since the time of legends past.
On his 21st birthday, Julian receives an unusual gift. An elderly woman, looking faintly sad, known to the forest folk by the name of 'Lady Alyra', appears at the feast. She gives to him a suit of white armour, and charges him to wear it in the service of Amber. Afterwards, she is gone, and is not heard from again.
Yet more years pass. Rilga and Oberon ride off into shadow for a vacation at one point, and do not return for some time.
A day of hunting occurs in their absence, and at the end of it, Corwin has gone missing.
Later, Oberon returns, alone, speaking to few. It marks the beginning of a period of frequent absences, during which time he sires several children on various women, bastards all. Then, finally, there is what seems to be a permanent absence.
Eric takes on the Regency, with Deirdre subtly working against him, convinced he is responsible for Corwin's disappearance. She refuses to believe her younger brother is dead.
During this time, Benedict returns to Amber in secret, both to rest, and to learn of what has gone on at home. He does so from the underwater realm of Rebma, where he acts as the queen's man-at-arms. There, he comes to know Martin, and does what he can to teach the boy, getting him across the Pattern and taking him back out into Shadow. Eventually Martin's passions get the better of him, and he and Benedict have a falling-out. Martin sets off to seek his own fate, ultimately landing himself in Brand's hands. A consequence of the Mark of Doom upon Benedict, perhaps?
Not long after Eric finally imprisons Deirdre for her subversions, Corwin's chronicles begin to play themselves out.
When Corwin escapes his prison in the bowels of Castle Amber, thanks to help from a now-mad Dworkin, he ends up on Cabra. There, he encounters the old light-house keeper there, who calls himself Jopin. It is, in fact, his much elder brother Cyrus, in the advanced stages of his efforts to age. They talk a time, and Cyrus smiles for the first time in many a year. "As far as he was concerned," Corwin would write of him later, "the whole bloody crew of us were rotten." Corwin, too, thinks that 'Jopin' was a once a captain, and in so doing falls a bit short of the truth. Cyrus, too old now to care, lets it lie.
Corwin and Benedict cross paths more times over the course of things, and each time Benedict lives under his curse.
By the time the armies of Amber march on Chaos, Osric is still missing. Were the right observer in the right place at the right time, however, a pale figure with white-blond hair would be seen among the onlookers at Oberon's funeral. The man is smiling the smile of someone who has outlived prophecy.