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All sorts of ideas have been bubbling in my head, creating a weird pot of crossover concepts melting into each other.
The Pattern’s incarnation lures the Logrus Serpent of the Amber Chronicles into chasing it into the heart of order, burning the poor wyrm. It sheds its lovely unicorn form and becomes a pattern spider, the Pattern Spider…the Weaver.
The Weaver traps the Logrus in its web, where it burns from the proximity too much order, leaking chaos into the Pattern. Something escapes, the best of it, becoming Wyld, fleeing into the Wyld.
The Weaver takes the Logrus’s other eye. It thrashes, melting, kept from being utterly obliterated by its cocoon, trapped and corrupted. It becomes the Wyrm.
No one can walked the Pattern or traverse the Logrus in its state of corruption. To do so is to be caught in a Black Spiral Dance of madness.
A hideous old witch, a bit like Mombi in the Oz Books, watches over the corrupted Pattern and Logrus. They have a beautiful princess of Amber or a lord of Chaos captive. The princesses have been forced into male form since birth, but they can sense what they are. They long to escape. The lords of Chaos can no longer shapeshifter. They must escape, before they are transformed into marble statues.
Wizards in cities and government agents sense something is amiss in the world, monsters and anomalies manifesting in response to the wrongness, but they’re unsure what the exact cause is.
See what happens when I have all these fannish ideas in my head? Eventually they emerge from the soup and take flight, making me marvel at their mad form. (wry grin)
The Pattern’s incarnation lures the Logrus Serpent of the Amber Chronicles into chasing it into the heart of order, burning the poor wyrm. It sheds its lovely unicorn form and becomes a pattern spider, the Pattern Spider…the Weaver.
The Weaver traps the Logrus in its web, where it burns from the proximity too much order, leaking chaos into the Pattern. Something escapes, the best of it, becoming Wyld, fleeing into the Wyld.
The Weaver takes the Logrus’s other eye. It thrashes, melting, kept from being utterly obliterated by its cocoon, trapped and corrupted. It becomes the Wyrm.
No one can walked the Pattern or traverse the Logrus in its state of corruption. To do so is to be caught in a Black Spiral Dance of madness.
A hideous old witch, a bit like Mombi in the Oz Books, watches over the corrupted Pattern and Logrus. They have a beautiful princess of Amber or a lord of Chaos captive. The princesses have been forced into male form since birth, but they can sense what they are. They long to escape. The lords of Chaos can no longer shapeshifter. They must escape, before they are transformed into marble statues.
Wizards in cities and government agents sense something is amiss in the world, monsters and anomalies manifesting in response to the wrongness, but they’re unsure what the exact cause is.
See what happens when I have all these fannish ideas in my head? Eventually they emerge from the soup and take flight, making me marvel at their mad form. (wry grin)
