Well. That was rather gratuitous.
We were working on teleportation somewhere relatively suitable in Corwin's universe when we were attacked rather unexpectedly. Men, or thereabouts, with mechanical flying aids.
We fought them off, capturing two, killing one, and driving off the sorcerer - he used a pattern-like power to escape. Their magic was competent, and their martial training downright good.
The others interrogated the ones we captured - the leader comitted suicide, but the other was fairly helpful. I will never drink Ginger Beer again.
Seems they were agents of some sort of pattern-like object in the local area, and they had decided we were a threat to reality. Ha ha. How ironic.
Anyway, a retributive strike was *clearly* called for. Despite these people having a) a point, and b) no idea that we existed (and with us, legitimate reasons for 'messing with reality').
On an unrelated note, I must learn to fly. I was towed by Tamash, all of us in demon form (they still insist I must posess a 'true' demon form, which while possibly true, strikes me as not terribly useful to know, since they can't tell me what it is).
Our punative strike, such as it was went, erm, wonderfully. I attempted to glide in, which didn't. So I just headed for the town (the pattern being in a forest near the town, and the forest itself being a major component of the defence), and ran inteference on a group of their sorcerers.
I then headed into the town, and infiltrated the enemy command post (in the shape of a kitten - Tamash would be proud), which went fine, until they all disappeared. Summoned, as best I can acertain, by the pattern, to defend it from a pair of rampaging lunatics.
Oh yes. It was those two. Their 'shapeshift my blood into that of Merlin' project worked. At least in Tamash's case. So he sprayed his blood over the pattern. This having the desired (destructive) effet, he did it some more.
Anyway, while they destroyed the sorcerers (I couldn't see any way to get there, since trump was no longer functioning in the shadow, and I'd not been there to get a fix for teleporting to) I headed for the military command.
Military command appeared paralysed by indecision, so I added to the confusion by incapacitating the chain of command a bit, which was going well, until the shadow vanished.
Yep. Gone.
Seems the pattern was engaged in all-out defence against a pair of blood sprinkling lunatics. To the point of abolishing everything to stop them.
Anyway, by the time I reached them (shapeshifting into a form which could walk shadow proved effective) Tamash was saying things like 'oops', and Prospero 'that was interesting'. This continued for a while, until we decided to leave for Corwin's primal pattern, and see what state that was in.
Turns out it was fine. Travel was impeded by the non-functioning of trump near the damaged broken pattern (seems it was missing bits to start with).
We returned to Tamash, who was still going 'oops' and wanted to fix things (Well. Yes. A little late, methinks.) And suggested he accompany us to the primal pattern. (Oh, reality was still conspiring to keep him well, well away from the one he'd broken). He did, but was hedged out. Literally.
Tamash continued ruminating, and myself and Prospero returned to research. We cracked it eventually (I'd just made a major breakthrough when the first attack occurred - but there were some bugs in the soluton) and trumped Tamash to enquire after him. He seemed occupied and morose, but told us he was fine, so we left him.
By the time the new spell was polished properly (we now have teleporting between universes cracked - must talk to someone about getting to and from Tir'na'nogth sometime, since that's an obvious next step), we were rather concerned about Tamash (strictly speaking, only I was, since Prospero doesn't really have emotions, but this sufficed.)
We found him... well, catatonic. In a shapeshifted sense. Essentially no thought, and no physical response. And starving to death slowly.
In the end, we decided that forcing a primal shapeshift was the way to go, and duly did so (a shadow full of fire did the trick), followed by returning him to our original beach (similar to Prospero's home, he claims - although not *too* similar, I suspect). Where he assumed the form, and mentality, of a rock.
Further help didn't, so we ended up waiting for Clare to be available.