Journal of Chaos

by the hand of Geryon Swayvill


These past several turnings have turned up several revelations and interesting events.

After the Chwongland battle, we all took a well-deserved few turnings off. During this time, I recieved, from Bishop Tern, some information regarding Omric Malezné, the presumed thief of the Sword of Sorrows. First, I was given three copies of his Trump, all long warm. Two of them showed a demon, much like the form described by The Dude and Tom. The third showed a small, thin, extremely pale man, holding a six-foot two-handed sword which matched the description of the Sword of Sorrows. Also, I was told that he suffered from congenital weaknesses common in House Malezné, both albinism and extreme physical frailty.

I contacted The Dude and suggested that we get the gang together and examine the tainted ground that Saklas had encountered, in order to verify that it had receded, and that it was not the result of a second taint source. He and Tom had been spending time in the Chwongland shadow, examining the aftermath of the battle, and the receding taint. We gathered the usual ragtag group together: myself, The Dude, Saklas, and Tristan. Cwell was busy. sigh.

So we travelled to a blasted plain. Saklas pointed, but there was no taint to be seen. With our task completed, I prepared to head home and nap.

Others suggested instead that we, while out here, might as well look for Omric Malezné, and the sword he had taken from us. I asked the Patternwielders to do it, fearing the possibility of taint. Tom took the helm, and we started on our way. After some time, we realized that we weren't travelling as fast or far as we expected, and Tom explained that there seemed to be multiple directions that the Shadowwalk was taking him, probably two directions.

I stepped in, with my knowledge of Omric's Trumps, and we walked. I kept a careful eye out for any multiple pulls (of which there were none), and for any possible danger of taint (of which there was, again, none). Eventually, we ended up in a dry, desert shadow outside a small frontier town of some sort. Omric was in this shadow, somewhere.

Tom pulled up a Pattern Lens and began searching in the vicinity of the town, while the rest of us discussed our next move. Tom's lens was wandering through the streets of the town and took a turn into a local tavern, at which point it was soundly thumped by a great deal of Logrus energy. This we took as an indication of a possible Omric presence.

We spent the next several minutes either shapechanging into believable denizens of the town, or covering ourselves in robes, depending on our abilities, and then headed into the town towards the bar in question. I chatted up the barkeep, who had seen a man matching Omric's description as of late. I bought a beer from him for two squishy, squid-like caluges and we headed towards Old Man Peter's up outside of town.

Old Man Peters was more than willing to talk with us after we convinced him that we were members of the local law-enforcement agency, and that we were in search of Omric for legal reasons. Old Man was convinced that Omric was a demon (Tom and The Dude were, as well, though I was merely a pansy), but he and Omric had been discussing his latest invention, which involved some sort of radiation shielding. We thanked him and turned to leave. Omric was right outside the door, crouched and watching us.

This was, understandably, a bit unsettling. Regardless, I walked, slowly and non-threateningly, towards the black-robed man, muttering words of peaceful intent. When I came to within 10 feet of him, he lept, swinging his six-foot blade at me. Then, he disappeared. Convinced it was some sort of illusion, we scanned the area for other beings.

A good half-mile away, there was a man. A Chaosian, in fact, who started running toward the town at a good clip. We sped into pursuit, with Saklas and Tristan taking the lead (and outdistancing the rest of us a great deal). I sent a pair of my demons ahead to keep me informed while we caught up. Saklas sprouted wings and took to the air.

When the dust had settled, we came upon Omric, pinning Tristan to a wall with some Logrus tendrils. We exchanged niceties and retired to the local bar for a beer and some long-awaited explanation.

As we talked, certain things came to light. Allow me to list some of them:

This discussion was interrupted by a couple of Trump contacts. Saklas was told that the Emperor was dead, and that he should avoid the Courts. Tristan was told that the Emperor was dead and that he should avoid us (he Trumped through to the Marné ways). Omric looked a bit puzzled, and announced that the Emperor was dead. The Dude told his King that our King was dead (and his King was hit by a dagger or somesuch. Probably not important). All of this prompted us to go find Robelone.

Robelone was easy enough to find. He was in his quarters in the Jezby Ways. We invited ourselves in. Omric commented on the wonderful mural that Robelone had, showing (of all things) the striking Hydra, symbol of the Hydrans. Robelone admitted to starting the cult in his spare time, and dropped his illusory construct, revealing himself to be, in reality, less kempt, a bit dirtier, quite tainted, and very, very insane. He smiled as he drew Mournblade and moved towards us threateningly.

The Dude disappeared in a flash of Trump light. I tried desperately to interpose Omric between myself and Robelone. Omric spoke some mystic words, and we found ourselves in the ruins of the Malezné Ways.

The next half-sky or so can be concisely described as the group of us running around and inneffectively trying to warn people of the danger at hand. We tried the Church of the Serpent, attempting in vain to convince people to dig up the old rites of protection that are effective against Guardians. We tried to contact the Captain of the Blackguard with evidence that Robelone had killed the Emperor. All to no effect.

Finally, Cwell Trumped me. Despite the incredible employment opportunities opened up by the throne wars, House Vissult had (wisely) chosen not to take contracts for assassination until after the new Emperor (whoever the lucky chap might be) was installed on the throne. Thus, Cwell had some time to spend with us. And she had spotted Bishop Tern back at my private shadow. This seemed a logical next place to go.

We arrived and Omric explained the situation to Her Grace. She muttered the first expletive I've had the honor of hearing from her. We began to plot Robelone's (likely unsubtle) death...

Geryon Swayvill


Thunder in the Deep || Blades by Night