'Where no one could have gone before' was perhaps a bit too much to ask in the literal sense, as the building he is now standing in was clearly built by thinking beings. Approximately human ones, even, if the ones in front of him are representative.

A handful of men and women in steel armor armed with swords and shield, blue and white tabards with heraldic griffons presumably signaling an allegiance of some sort stand guard against intruders at a closed door. Their backs are to the newest visitor and they don't seem to have noticed him yet.

This seems to be some sort of antechamber or receiving room to a private suite, with the guards in front of the door to the wider building. The walls are lavishly painted with the story of, uh, a woman being burned at the stake to stop a siege and a group of men being very sad about this and carrying her ashes to a mountain in an urn. Or something along those lines.

There are signs of a struggle, with the heavily gilded furniture roughly pushed out of the way and tossed to the side, clearing a staight path from door to door.

If he had a nickel for every time he Patterned into a well-protected fortress...

He'll try to sneak away from the guards before they notice him, and go along the path of the struggle, while getting Ghostwheel's and Rinaldo's Trumps. No contact, not even slightly cold. Well, that's to be expected.

He'll have to contend with a closed door before he gets too far, blocking his path out of the room.

He brings his hand next to the lock, and Frakir starts unwinding from it, slithering into the lock.

Can an animated strangling cord pick it?

Easily.

What the animated strangling cord cannot do is oil the hinges before the door creaks open, alerting the guards behind him.

Well, there goes his attempt at stealth. 

Frakir wraps around his wrist again, and he turns to the guards. 

"Hello there, I think I landed here on accident."

"For the master! Kill the intruder!"

Well, that's certainly a welcome. 

He doesn't want to kill them wantonly, so he'll loose a sleep spell on them.

Should there happen to be anybody capable of seeing magic looking on him, they'd see an image of Corwin's Pattern flash before his eyes for a brief moment.

The clang of steel and thumping of falling bodies will probably alert others if they haven't already been. No reinforcements seem to be imminent, however.

But from further into the suite, it sounds like a woman has started to shout for help.

Classic, really. 

He goes towards it. 

The scene he finds is thus:

An old woman wearing robes of red and white held aloft by writhing bands of eldritch power. Surrounding her, more soldiers with the griffon sigil and one oddly skeletal figure, almost eight feet tall. The tall man is in black robes that seem to have been melted into his skin in some areas. Also melted into his skin in certain locations are irregular shards of metal and stone. The overall effect is... quite disconcerting. In his right hand, he holds an orb inscribed with a swirling pattern that emits a sickly green glow.

"Run!" the old woman shouts, terrified. "Run while you can! Warn them!"

"Slay the human," the tall one commands, pointing a spindly finger in the newcomer's direction.

Fuck.

That seems dramatic. He speaks a word, and a shield rises up in front of him, just for a few seconds, but should be enough to stop whatever they throw at him first.

He could try stopping the tall guy's heart, but he isn't sure he even has the right anatomy for the spell to land... He beings to speak completion words for another spell, this one to try to paralyze him, and also draws his sword.

Bolts of fire shot by one of the soldiers wielding a wooden staff with a crystal on the top batter at his shield, cracking it open just before the other soldiers reach him.

He's a trained swordsman with vastly superhuman strength, so he'll start dealing with the soldiers coming in, while finishing the paralytic spell, and directing most of it to anyone holding the staves, and with the rest of it going to the Big Guy, though he's not sure it'll work.

It works well enough that the tall man fumbles the orb! It rolls between the bodies in his direction as the tall man curses.

He rushes forward, picking up the orb, and tries to take the woman off the altar. Will the bands of power break before he starts risking her bones?

Technically yes, but also no. Which is to say, the bands of power break before her bones do, but only because both items are subjected to the same external force that will vaporize them both, and said force hits the bands before the bones.

When the orb gets too close to the woman, there is a massive explosion of magical energy as reality implodes on itself. His perception of the world is consumed in green fire.

Strangely, all the pain that he should be feeling from being so close to blasted into his constituent atoms is concentrated in the hand he was holding the orb in.

Pain of being blasted into constituent atoms: Comparable to negotiating the Logrus or walking the Pattern. 

Concentrated entirely into his hand: Ouch. 

He call the image of the Pattern before him, and pours energy directly through it, trying to create an island of Order within the green fire, and to see past it. 

Through his Pattern-sight, he sees burning wreckage, air choked thick with ash and debris.

This is, it must be noted, notably different than the environment around him outside of the Pattern's effect when the green fire fades away a moment later. It seems to be the same as the room he was just standing in, though minus the other inhabitants. And the furniture seems to change when he's not directly observing it.

And his hand still hurts, though the orb has disappeared.

Weird, all of it.

Changing furniture least of it, really. The shadows near the Courts pull stunts like that regularly, it takes him a moment to even notice that it's not normal for an otherwise orderly-looking shadow. 

Fire visible only through pattern-sight is weird though, it doesn't look the way magic tends to look, which implies the normal-looking room is probably illusion of some sort, though a weird one. 

He tries to touch the fire, see if it would burn him.

If he uses his non-hurting hand, he does not get burned.

Huh.

Well, everything seems surprisingly calm for the moment, so he'll try to deal with his hand (ouch).

With a minute of preparation, he first tries to shapeshift it to demonic form, and if that doesn't help, to something entirely without pain receptors.

It still hurts in demon form, but if he removes his pain receptors it no longer hurts. No matter what form, there is a brightly glowing mark, the same eerie green as the spectral fire earlier, fluctuating slightly like it's breathing.

That's better. 

He tries looking at the mark through the Pattern, is it like a spell or something?

It's... definitely like something, yeah. An incredibly dense knot of magical power, purpose unclear. It seems somehow unfinished or scrambled.

He'll deal with it later then.

For now, he's going to leave the room, and try to find a way outside.

The door will serve him well enough there.

Though if he was expecting it to be the same way he came in, he will be disappointed. And possibly alarmed, depending on his feelings regarding rocky blasted hellscapes with vomit-color skies.

Ah, home not really, but there's some reminiscence.

Is there anything notable visible?

On the horizon, the smudged skyline of a black city.

Almost directly overhead, a great big green hole in the sky. Streaks of light jet off the ground from a wide area around, rising up to be swallowed in.

Fancy.

He'll start heading towards the city.

You know, you seem to have a habit of ending up in unusual places.

"Frakir? You can talk again?"

Yes, that's me. Something about this place is similar to the time you ended up between shadows, and it seems that was enough to grant me speech again

"Did the Pattern lob me to another inbetween?"

No, the place you were before was normal, more or less. I think the explosion did.

"Well, that's intriguing. Let's see what happens now."

And he continues his stroll towards the city.

It's quite a ways off...

And before he can make much progress in its direction, a figure very much like the old woman he was attempting to save accosts him. "Wait, young man! You must not approach the Black City. It is a place that will bring you only death, and suffering unto all the world."

"Thanks for the warning. Can you tell me more about this place? Is there anywhere I should go?"

"This is the Fade, the dreaming world. You are here physically, which means you are in grave danger. You must return to the real world."

"And how can I do that?"

"The breach that brought you here will work, I believe." She points towards the great big green hole in the sky.

"So, go up to the hole in the sky? Are the ribbons useful for that, or should I find my own means?"

"Those are demons, seeking an easy way across the Veil. It would be best to avoid them."

"Thanks for another warning. I guess it's time to look for something to fly in."

He summons the Sigil of Logrus before him, and begins to align his hands with its erratic movement.

"What is that you are doing?"

"Trying to find something."

When his arms achieve a sort of conjunction with Logrus' limbs, he begins to reach. Ideally, he wants a plane, a simple one like they have on shadow Earth, but he'll settle for any kind of flying machine, whatever's closest.

It doesn't seem like there's any such thing within his reach.

He keeps it up for a few minutes, which would be enough to reach shadow Earth from most places, but he did ask to go far, didn't he. He releases the sigil with a heavy sigh.

"Hm. Doesn't seem to be a way to fly conveniently in the neighbourhood."

"Flight has ever remained out of reach of mages," the ?woman? agrees. "But if we travel toward our destination, a solution may present itself. That is the nature of the Fade."

"Well, let's try that."

He sets his mind on reaching the hole in the sky, and then starts Walking - looking for places where something is obscured from him, imagining what he wants to see there, and willing it into reality, shifting through Shadow. At least, that's how it would work if he was home...

"I can feel your will reaching out," the woman comments. "You are powerful."

"That may be so."

Walk, walk, shift, shift, look down, imagine ground gently curving upwards towards the hole, look up...

The ground is gently curving up!

But the thing it is curving up to is not the hole. Or at least not directly. In between here and there is a large doglike creature, moldy yellow fur and an entire mouthful of big sharp teeth that are dying to be introduced to his sweet tender flesh.

Fuck, what is that thing doing here. 

Well, this time he has a sword at least. He jumps to the side to avoid an expected leap, and draws it. 

The beast seems to anticipate his movements and leaps directly at him!

Frakir tightens around his wrist, a bit late for a warning and much more strongly than usual

He tries to at least put the sword between himself and the thing, but it's faster than he expected...

It spits itself on the sword pushing right up to him, until he can feel its hot breath slavering in his face, teeth snapping and snarling.

He tries to push it off, with inhuman strength.

Off it pushes! And makes to leap right back at him.

Also, two more of it are approaching from either side, these ones slightly smaller.

This is getting out of hand, and he doesn’t even have anywhere to run. 

He says a word, and releases a spell that conjures a jet of water that should be enough to push the leaping one off-course. 

In the brief moment when the Pattern flashes before his eyes, do the dogs suddenly look different?

They look like a worst nightmare! Not his specifically anymore, just kind of generalized essence of nightmare.

(If he's paying attention, he may also notice that the woman-figure still looks like the old woman, but now with an 'essence of faith' underlayer.)

Okay, so not actually Julia’s dogs, that makes sense. 

After he sees this, he holds the image of the Pattern before him, and continues to evade/sword/push the nightmare things. 

"Any advice on dealing with nightmares?"

"Control your fear. Or run."

Well, technically he doesn’t have any reason to fear those particular dogs. Julia is in fact alive, and the last fight with it ended pretty quickly. 

Now’s not the best time for reflection, so if it doesn’t do something quickly, he’s going to try running. 

Running is probably a better plan, yes. The dogs don't seem to be slowing down.

He's quite good at running. He doesn’t quite have a place to run to, so he tries bending this place to go up to the hole again.

It seems there is a mountain path that will lead him up to a point where he might be able to make it to the rift.

There is also now an entire horde of monsters pursuing him as he runs, and an awful voice delighting in his fear singing into his mind. So sweet the fear, so rich the experience, the terrible chorus goes. Give it to us, let us feast on your memory.

He runs towards the mountains, still shifting the world around to shorten the path as much as he can. 

The voice is rather disturbing. 

Why, yes it is. And it comes with the bonus feeling of something nebulous nibbling away at the back of his mind, in a hard-to-notice-or-define manner.

He doesn't know what to do about it, though he can try to blast it with raw power, if he can see something with pattern-sight, or blast the nightmares if he can't. 

And he's still running, that he has a lot of practice on. 

He's getting closer to- that big hole in the sky? Why is that there? A glowy female apparition in front of him urges him onwards. A smaller rip in reality tears itself open on the cliffside above him and she says that one may serve as well.

He darts towards the closer tear, jumping in he can get close enough. 

It's just a little too far for him to make it, but the glowing person is up there now, extending a hand down to him, and the giant pack of doglikes is about to catch up-

He catches the hand, and fumbles into the tear. 

An ashen, blasted landscape reveals itself, lit by flickering green flashes. Distantly, cries of battle and the clash of steel. In front of him, soldiers threatening him with swords.

The pain in his hand is really quite intense now, matched by a pounding in his head. He feels like now might be a good time to pass out.

He could probably push thorugh a few more moments of consciousness, but it's not like he's going to manage to hide anywhere safe. He passes out.

A cord on his hand relaxes slightly from the tightened state it's been ever since a nightmare appeared, though not entirely.

When he regains consciousness, he's in a dark cell, lying on a straw mat on a cold stone floor. A bald, pale-skinned man with pointed ears is examining the marked hand.

He lies still, not showing any signs of waking up, and observes for some time.

"Feigning unconsciousness is often an effective strategy for gathering information," the man says. "Though less so when I can feel your pulse so easily."

"That's a good skill to have I guess."

He can't feel anything in his marked hand, but it's pretty localized. Weird.

"I don't think I know where I happen to be, and I don't quite like it."

"Where you are in the philosophic sense, or the specifically physical?" the man asks.

"Physical, though perhaps in a more broad sense than is normal"

"You are in a jail cell," says the man, "in the basement of the chantry in the village of Haven, located at the base of the Frostback Mountains of southern Thedas, on the Fereldan side."

"Jail cell, huh. Interesting place to wake up in."

He isn't really worried - imprisoning an initiate of the Pattern is hard, unless they totally prevent him from moving. Or burn his eyes out...

"It seems the authorities believe you might have something to do with the explosion and subsequent tear in the Veil."

Frakir contracts, almost impercetably, on his (non-marked) arm.

"Explosion? Tear in the veil?"

"Hm. I think my memory's fuzzy. I think I remember going through the cliff or something, but it's very vague..."

"You do not recall how you received this mark on your hand?"

"Yeah. No idea."

"Strange..." the man mutters. "Does it cause you pain?"

"Should it? Currently I'm not feeling anything from the hand at all."

"By all rights it ought to."

The man pinches the tip of his finger. "Can you feel this?"

"No."

He tries the other hand. "And this?"

"Yes."

He shifts awareness into his own body.

"Huh. Intersting, I wonder..."

Then he screams.

After a while, he stops.

"Ok. It hurts, but I can block it, and apparently did before."

"That is not an ability one normally sees in corporeal beings."

"Let's say I'm very in tune with my body."

The man chuckles."That is one sort of explanation. Though I am not sure your jailers will find it amusing."

"Well, I'll be sure to find something amusing to tell them. You can call me Merle, by the way."

"Merle." He nods. "I am Solas."

"Solas. Nice to meet you. Back to the topic on hand," he chuckles, "I start to think you know rather more than me on what's going on with all this. Is fuzzy memory common here, or did I manage to step into something?"

"It is not common, no. There are certain magics which might produce such effects, but they are rare. Then again, they said you stepped out of one of the tears in the Veil. A spirit would be more like to know of such than a mortal mage."

"So, given that I'm very foreign, probably did step out of some sort of a tear, and missing some interemined amount of memories, what chances would you give on me convincing whoever the jailers are that there's been some sort of mistake, eh?"

"Very low," Solas says wryly. "The current crisis has left the authorities little inclined to charity."

"And you're here listening to my pulse because?.."

"The mark on your hand is magical, and I have some expertise in such matters. Though I am not affiliated with your captors, their other choices died in the explosion that precipitated the rift you emerged from."

"Does it do anything but hurt very badly?"

"Possibly..."

"I cannot say for sure while you remain in here, but I believe it may interact with the Breach and lesser rifts in some way."

"And the rifts are likely pouring out demons or something, and nobody has any idea how to close them, huh?"

Did someone damage the Pattern again? This sounds larger than the Black Road and associated incursions... Was the Pattern destroyed, and now Corwin's version trying to hold the world together? He can't really tell without going to Amber, and Hall of Mirrors adivsed him to stay away...

"An accurate summary of our current situation."

"And I'm in the cell for unknown time, because everyone's too busy with demons to do anything about all that?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Uh-huh. Let's say I'm in favor of closing horrible rifts and stopping demons. Any chance at getting to help the locals as an independent contractor?"

"That may be possible. I could attempt to speak to your jailers."

"I'd appreciate it."

"Then as you do not seem in imminent danger of dying, I will go do so." Solas rises to depart. Merlin may notice that he's rather short, in addition to the pointed ears, only slightly over five feet tall

It doesn't particularly register. Many shadows, many kinds of people.

After Solas had left, Merlin carefully calls the image of the Pattern, putting barely any power into it, and checks his spells. Huh. Sleep spell, simple shield, and paralysis are gone, but the rest don't show visible signs of decay... So, he probably got into a fight, but it hasn't been more than a few days from his departure. 

He quickly scans the room with magical sight, not really expceting to find anything, and also checks his stuff to find most of it gone, including the Trumps. Well, he'll try to find them later. He dismisses the image.