#daily life in the phyrexian spheres

[littjara-mirrorlake]

Daily Life in the Phyrexian Spheres (Dross to Seedcore)

Previous: Facade to Furnace, Maze to Bays

The Dross Pits, much like its previous incarnation in the Mephidross of Mirrodin's surface, is a sphere rife with intrigue, double-crossing, and back-alley deals. The social structure is feudal, with lords ruling over masses of serfs and slaves, and thanes make up the top of the social pyramid. Dark, towering citadels of flesh and bone rise out of the necrogen mists, which bathe the entire layer in an eerie green glow. Large swathes of territory are controlled by thanes, lords, and magical creatures such as blight dragons and archfiends.

This sphere is densely populated, with the vast majority of its inhabitants making up the servant classes that live and die under feudal lords. Compleated Mirrans begin at the very bottom and most have little hope of ever ascending past this station, as the Steel Thanes' obsession with Phyrexian purity leads to heavy discrimination against those who are not Phyrexian-born. This obsession extends to a scrutiny of every Phyrexian's pedigree--the further removed a person is from their last non-core-born ancestor, the purer their bloodline is considered, leading to a higher chance of social advancement. As such, first-generation core-born Phyrexians (born to compleated Mirrans) are only barely considered truly Phyrexian and share their parents' meager social standing. As Phyrexians are immortal and have no need for heirs, faction members produce scions to serve their own advancement, not to eventually succeed them. Of course, said scions are rarely happy with this arrangement, seeking to usurp their parents and seize their assets instead.

Magically and technologically, the inhabitants of the Dross Pits largely focus on emulating Yawgmoth-era techniques gleaned from scrying the glistening oil. Due to the heavy emphasis on ichor magic and intrigue, glistening oil from individuals of interest--and the intelligence it contains--is an invaluable commodity in the Dross Pits. Bloodsuckers like necrosquitoes and pistid swarms are often employed to this end, fueling an illicit trade of stolen bodily fluids.

Much like the Furnace, the Dross Pits do not have an overarching system of governance or standard of law, and political allegiances vary widely. Pockets of the Dross Pits are strongholds of the Phyrexian rebellion, though they are severely handicapped by the loyalist spheres blocking them both above and below. Every thane has at least nominally allied with either Elesh Norn or the rebellion, though they are ultimately beholden only to themselves and care little for the ideals of either side.

The Fair Basilica is the innermost inhabited sphere and the de facto capital of New Phyrexia, where Elesh Norn rules from her palace and the majority of the Phyrexian military is housed. In the heart of Norn's empire, every aspect of daily life is carefully regimented and monitored; people are marched in orderly rows down alabaster bridges, flanked constantly by armed enforcers and their swarms of patrol mites. Flights of angels keep constant watch in the skies. Staggering acts of brutality are committed against any who display signs of deviance, and commoners are all too used to keeping their heads down and trying not to watch as their peers' oil is scrubbed from the streets.

Every resident of the Fair Basilica is expected to devote a significant portion of their time to worship, and the rest to assigned duties like patrolling or working the flesh-vats. Those who need to sleep do so on strict schedules under the watchful eyes of supervisors. Newts are raised by the state, rigorously educated on the Orthodoxy's religious tenets, and often apprentice under cenobites, which continues after their compleation; Mirran aspirants commonly join them.

Though it relies heavily on other spheres for commodities like raw material and technology, the Fair Basilica is at least self-sufficient in growing its own porcelain metal, which spreads in a fungus-like manner on recently dead flesh. It is mass-produced in giant growth vats, alongside Basilica inhabitants' germ offspring and seedpod centurions for the invasion (often bodies without minds, hollow for puppeting via ichor magic).

Rebellion is most difficult in the Basilica due to its oppressive environment and authorities' vested interest in controlling the flow of information--and oil--into and out of the sphere. The news fed to residents is tightly curated, requiring workarounds to even hear of the rebellion's presence at all. That said, dissident spies have managed to infiltrate even the innermost of the loyalist spheres.

The Mycosynth Gardens form a natural barrier between the populated Phyrexian spheres and the Seedcore, and passage through them is controlled exclusively by Elesh Norn herself. The Gardens themselves are uninhabited by sapient Phyrexians, though fauna like inkmoths and skitterlings roam the silent lattices, and the mycosynth itself is known to create lures or other, more cryptic structures that mimic passersby.

The Seedcore, the innermost layer of New Phyrexia, is the domain of Elesh Norn alone, where she keeps the World Tree sapling Realmbreaker imprisoned and firmly subjugated under layers of mind-altering magic. Very rarely, Norn holds the most confidential of her audiences here with her inner circle or other crucial allies. The sphere is heavily warded against incoming divination, telepathy, and any other possible interference with Norn's plans, but here lays Norn's crucial oversight: there are no such protections against communication going out, allowing Realmbreaker's telepathic distress call to pass through into the Multiverse.

And that's it for overviews of the nine Phyrexian spheres, from the perspective of a far more average commoner Phyrexian than we're used to hearing about. There's always more to be said about each of them, of course, and I hope this helps get people started thinking about their own expansions, headcanon, or additions!

[littjara-mirrorlake]

Daily Life in the Phyrexian Spheres (Facade to Furnace)

Because we've heard about praetor politics and planeswalker battles, but tragically little about life for the average Phyrexian. What does that look like? Fantasy worldbuilding thrives on the mundane, and this series hopes to expand on that starting from the outermost three layers.

The Facade is largely uninhabited by humanoid Phyrexians, though creatures like Zenith Chroniclers benefit from consistent exposure to the suns and thrive plentifully. Phyrexian civilians or even praetors' agents may use it as a neutral ground for traveling, though Mirrans tend to avoid it for the unpredictable landscape and hidden pitfalls with deep oil pools. Occasionally, religiously inclined Phyrexians will embark on pilgrimages to monuments of spiritual significance before they crumble again, and researchers may chart the movements of the suns.

Mirrex, too, is sparsely populated save for wanderers, outcasts, and the occasional Mirran Resistance holdout. Phyrexians seeking to escape their roles without open rebellion often flee here. Some secondary bases of the Phyrexian rebellion are located here for their proximity to the Furnace. Occasionally praetors will send their enforcers here to sniff out rebel strongholds, but efficacy is generally low and it's rarely considered worth it. Mirrex, after all, is viewed by most Phyrexian authorities as an inconsequential wasteland, all but drained dry of its resources. The few who hide in Mirrex are more than happy to encourage that assumption.

The Autonomous Furnace is the outermost population center and the main home of the Phyrexian rebellion. Misfit Phyrexians from all spheres are drawn here as a result. Mirran refugees also cluster here, taking advantage of red Phyrexians' avoidance of or even sympathy to their cause. The rampant policing and surveillance of the other spheres only rarely reaches here, and when it does, it is swiftly thwarted.

The culture and attitude of the Furnace varies wildly by sector, as furnace bosses control large areas and go largely unchecked by Urabrask or other superiors. Working conditions range from surprisingly decent with a good amount of self-directed time to back-breakingly brutal with constant oversight. Commoners live in rickety habitations at or near their work areas.

Many sectors are openly rebellious, and a few remain vehemently loyalist, but the vast majority of Phyrexians here aim only to do their own work and stay out of any and all drama. (The work done, and who receives its final products, depends on the local boss's allegiances.) "None of my business" is the presiding mantra here, and residents are reluctant to either snitch on passing Mirrans or aid them too directly. Some, though, are driven by forbidden curiosity about humanoid ways of life and may furtively peek at Mirrans while working.

Generally, a red Phyrexian civilian's circle of concern is small; they care primarily about the quality of their own work, their creative pursuits, and their immediate social relations. Politics is often shunned, save for that which immediately threatens their livelihoods and homes--which increasingly translates to anti-praetor, anti-authoritarian, or even anti-Phyrexia stances (though the latter is rarely voiced even among dissidents).

As the Furnace steps further and further out of line with Phyrexian dogma, underground, creative subcultures have begun to form amongst artisans and rebels. Primarily working with metal and sculpture, such artists create statements about Phyrexian life, political commentaries, and calls to revolution. The population as a whole often appears too busy or apathetic to pay these artisans much regard, but their influence runs deeper than it seems at first glance, with increasing numbers of people choosing to redefine what being Phyrexian means to them. Self-modification serves as a tantalizing promise of a future Phyrexia without enforced hierarchies or roles. Urabrask actively encourages and supplies the artists of the Furnace, particularly appreciating displays of destruction that spawn new beginnings.

[littjara-mirrorlake]

Daily Life in the Phyrexian Spheres (Maze to Bays)

Previous: Facade to Furnace

The Maze is a thick tangle of coppered greenery and savage beasts shielding loyalist Phyrexia from the outskirts of the plane, posing a significant challenge to attackers moving in or rebels moving out. In theory, the domain ruled by Vorinclex and Glissa is loyal to Elesh Norn and stands ready to serve the Orthodoxy. In practice, most Maze denizens don't discriminate between Mirran or Phyrexian, loyalist or rebel. All are prey unless they can prove their worthiness to survive, and many an Orthodoxy enforcer realizes too late that their authority provides no shield from the dangers of the wild.

Though the Maze's savage reputation is well-earned, areas of tranquility remain, shielded by dense growth. Bubbling ichor wellsprings, nexuses of mana, and meadows of rare and exotic flowers await those with the skill to find them. Pockets of relative civilization also exist, such as the living quarters of priests, aspirants, and commoners, woven or grown into the landscape's coppery scaffolding. Common roles include the upkeep of local plant life and the study and augmentation of predators, carried out by Phyrexians known as stewards.

Not all Maze residents subscribe to Vorinclex and Glissa's ideology of weeding out the weak, though, and many form communities and care for those close to them. They are reluctant to aid outsiders, usually more out of self-preservation than an idea of social Darwinism (though many justify it with the latter). Luckily, no one is enforcing their obedience or ideologies--all Maze-dwellers must do is survive. Though predators run rampant, actual policing and enforcer presence is almost nonexistent here, making the Maze a suitable location for canny rebels to hide. In particular, the border between the Maze and the Furnace is a hotspot for illegal activity--another region that praetors consider beneath their notice.

The Bays are the heart of Phyrexia's surveillance state. Every feature of the landscape, from buildings to "trees" and the great skylights themselves, is studded with ever-watching eyestalks. The cameras' ubiquity reminds residents of their duty to obey--after all, you've got nothing to fear if you've got nothing to hide. Mind magic is heavily used, and memory redaction is common. The infrastructure of the sphere itself is also carefully micromanaged, down to local climate patterns. Control centers are overseen by ranking officials but staffed by commoners, who desperately beat back the unseemly Tangle growth that reaches down here.

Religion takes a backseat here in favor of hard science, and some researchers brazenly deny the Orthodoxy and claim experimentation as Phyrexia's truest way ahead. After all, the Progress Engine's primary export is research, and its titanic labs demand a steady influx of talent, raw materials, and captive test subjects (both Mirran and Phyrexian). Compleat creatures that fall short of their duties are often "repurposed" this way. Vast amounts of information are stored in archives of glistening oil and quicksilver.

Even in this sphere of eyes, however, dissidents carve out bubbles of secrecy. Drones and cameras can be covertly hacked, and mental defenses are meticulously constructed to mislead. Spy networks infiltrate nearly every level of Gitaxian academia, pilfering research and weaponry to aid the rebellion's cause.

A quirk of Surgical Bay life, which bleeds over into the other spheres, is the tendency of tools and inanimate devices to be replaced by living Phyrexian creatures known as skites. From syringes to chests and telescopes, even the most mundane items skitter on their own accord, and railings for them to walk on are built into most rooms. These simple creatures are roughly equivalent to trained animals, and variants are employed by both loyalists and rebels to spy on their opposition.

[littjara-mirrorlake]

i want to finish my daily life in the phyrexian spheres series ive just been caught up with other things but i am very much thinking about it