#which is. a very fun way to express that he is not a planeswalker and is more effected by moving from world to world and being stuck there

[starlit-mansion]

the funniest thing about kellan is that he looks physically different in every set (by which i mean his hair texture and skin tone and overall look do not quiiiiiiiite match) but at no point does he ever look like oko

like absolutely i've been nursing a headcanon about kellan that his hereditary shapeshifting manifests less as physically morphing and more by him very easily fitting into a dovetail of what people expect of him and what he's trying to be that changes between different planes and situations, which is also why his color identity and mechanic function has changed so much over the sets

but it would also be. honestly really funny if he didn't look like oko because he never knew what oko looked like and so his subconscious half-fae shapeshifting never had anything to latch onto and manifest

[burtlederp]

My OCs (A Masterpost)

So, you wanna get to know my OCs, eh? Great! That’d make my day! I appreciate your interest more than you know! :) I have a lot of OCs, I will admit, many more than will ever show up here on tumblr. I will only include, in this post, those that have had drabbles written about them and/or people have expressed interest in. The current number of OCs featured on my tumblr is 12; Milo, Anton, Jackson, Valerie, Elias, Risa, Samson, Cindy, Moe, Damien, and Marcelo.

Character bios are below the read more, because, trust me, there is a LOT more to read!

Milo’s Story: A Complete and Utter Mess

Milo O’Malley He’s lean, he’s definitely not mean, and he’s nearly exactly five feet of skin and bone and little else. Beaten down repeatedly through his life, this kid (who doesn’t even look like a kid anymore) resigned himself to a life of harsh, relentless work until his body inevitably gives out on him when he turns 26. Oh, except, it seems a very powerful tiger sprite is trying to possess his body, and he actually doesn’t want to die. And he’s been “adopted” by a giant pick-axe wielding dad-friend named Jackson, who also insists he lives on. Milo isn’t much of a looker, not anymore, with a gaunt, ghoul-like face, dull green eyes, and a shaved head (easier to keep clean when you don’t really have a place to get clean). He is, as I mentioned earlier, five feet tall, thanks to malnutrition through his early years, and dangerously thin. He’s of Irish descent, though his pale skin has long become a sickly gray. After living with Jackson for a while though, his red hair’ll grow out a bit and he’ll get back some of that snow-white European paper skin. As far as he knows, Milo is straight, but he’s never really been in a relationship before. Milo’s Playlist

Jackson Pitolua Jackson is the ideal dad-friend. He’s kind, he’s caring, protective, intelligent, and has a witty sense of humor. He’s been through some very rough times in his life, has had his fair share of terrifying, nightmare-inducing experiences, but this refining fire has left him who he is, and he doesn’t soon forget it. Not all his emotional wounds have completely healed, though, but at least his coping mechanism is seeking to help others as much as possible. As much as he’s grown, he’s still young, and he still hungers for adventure, doing so regularly as both a hobby and a profession. This has led him to meeting and literally adopting Anton, and figuratively adopting Milo. In terms of physical descriptions, Jackson is 6-feet-10-inches and over 200 lbs of pure muscle, with short black hair, a large nose, warm brown eyes, and wide smile missing at least one tooth. His Polynesian descent grants him darker skin, and he’s gotten his fair share of tribal tattoos, with one climbing up his arm to just under his left ear, and another adorning his right leg. His adventuring has led him to be in need of a patron, and so he has chosen one, his allegiance to his Samoan goddess of choice emblazoned all over his back. If he were to be put into any Dungeons & Dragons class, it would be barbarian, because he favors little armor and wields a pickaxe that weighs twice or perhaps even thrice that of Milo. Jackson is straight. Jackson’s Playlist

Anton (Pitolua) Anton is a bit different from others, in that he is not human. He’s from a race of humanoids known as the Night People, carnivorous humans with a very base, tribalistic society. Anton left it in a heartbeat to go with Jackson when he was around the age of 17, after hearing all the wonderful, magical things the modern world had. Anton had his first taste of indoor life and decided he would never go outside ever again. Jackson didn’t allow for this, but Anton has remained rather partial to his static, sustained environments. Anton is a strange one in terms of personality, having lived in a competitive survival situation his whole life and suddenly plopped into one where everyone’s on fair ground. He’s picked up the english language quickly, but he’s still working on his mannerisms, so he can often come off rather cold or harsh, but he means well. He’s protective of his new family, and would give his life for them in a second. Appearance-wise, I am still undecided. I’ve sketched multiple designs, but I haven’t found one that I really enjoy yet. Some features I have decided on though are sharp claws instead of nails, sharp teeth, clawed, long-toed feet with rotating ankle joints and opposable thumbs. Distinguishing features for Anton specifically are his long, black hair and the long scar down his left arm from a nasty fall he took in his youth. Anton, sexually-speaking, is very young and not sure about anything and, for now, forbidden from the act of it by Jackson, who’s nervous he might take after the rather… animalistic sexual habits of his people. Luckily, Anton plays Fortnite and doesn’t get out a lot, so Jackson doesn’t need to worry too much (yet).

Valerie Floraison A wood elf in a modern world, Valerie was raised mostly in Detroit with her nine sisters. Their family made trips back and forth between home and their parents’ home in another realm throughout her childhood so she could still retain her culture. Her family struggled financially all her life, a combination of poor decisions and bad luck, when left Valerie hungry for a life outside of the projects. She moved to D.C. after graduating top of her class at a college in the other realm, and joined the newly-publicized Magic Affairs Agency, becoming head of resource management in no time. She’s got a fiery, stubborn spirit about her, and it’s easy to see her as shallow and materialistic, but she really does care about people. Well, except maybe Jackson. Her sister was engaged to Jackson, and died fighting with him against a manticore. Valerie blames Jackson for her sister’s death. She’s not quite over it yet. As courtesy of her job and career, she’s quite good at wearing a pleasant face, even when she may or may not desire to strangle you. She has a habit of getting a bit physical when angry, never anything beyond a slap, and she does tend to feel bad about it afterwards.  Valerie is almost exactly 6 feet tall, with a thin and willowy figure. She has those long elf-ears, which bear a moderate number of piercings each. She has darker skin with long, wavy black hair that’s usually down, falling over her shoulders, and purple eyes. She favors the finer things in life, so it’s rare that you’ll ever see her out of a dress or not wearing heels. On her left hand is a small rune she had tattooed there that grants a permanent illusion perfectly-applied make-up on her face (no, this did not come cheap). Valerie, in college, double-majored in finances and illusion magic, with a minor in magical cloth manipulation. If she’s not wearing Gucchi, she’s wearing her own couture.

Elias and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Life

Elias Benson Native to the lands of Utah, Elias has never really had an outstanding good time in his life. His family never liked him and kicked him out of the house before he was a legal adult, which resulted in him moving across the country on his own before he was really ready. He’s had relationships before too, and none of them were healthy. He’s a gentle soul, but the world hasn’t really given him a chance to prove it, so he’s turned out to be a bit of a punk, and a lot of an idiot. Even so, he’s a truly good person, even if his language (and observable intelligence) belies it. Elias, before he meets the bounty hunter Risa, is about 5”9, and is pretty gaunt. He’s not quite Milo-levels of emaciation, but he’s not exactly looking great either at around 130 lbs. He’s got short, curly brown hair and big, green eyes, and a little nose stud on the left side. Bruises around his neck were pretty much perpetual from his girlfriend. He also was never terribly clean, so he was usually kinda grungy. After meeting Risa, things more or less took a sharp 180–he got and stayed clean, and bumped his weight up to almost 200 lbs through healthy diet and strict workout regimen. If he gave thought to it and knew it was a thing, he’d identify as asexual or straight.

Elias’ Playlist

Risa Literally out of this world, I like to describe her as a psychopath who accidentally gave herself a soul–because she kinda did. She’s from another planet in the future in a different universe, and was originally a complete sociopath. Not the “mwahaha I like murder because it’s fun” kinda thing, but she just didn’t feel things the same way or at all as other people, literally incapable of most emotions. She was wicked smart though, and after many years of learning about machines and how to be a witch, she complete switched her weak, fleshy body for a metal one and a computer chip brain. Due to an error on her part, however, this robot brain opened up neural pathways for her to experience and use emotions other than want and annoyance. Not that that slowed down her bounty hunting career in the slightest. She’s a planeswalker of sorts, meaning that she’s particularly good at finding her way around the multiverse, and takes advantage of it and the many job opportunities presented because of it. She’s a grade-A badass, also a bit op, and she’s lets people know it. She (kidnapped? Adopted? Enslaved? Took in? There is no good word for how she got Elias) got Elias as her henchman because she was bored and accidentally got attached. Risa is cold, calculating, greedy, and apathetic unless there’s money in it for her. She also has a sense of humor and sarcasm that usually smacks harder than a bullwhip. When she’s not on a job or in a rush, she can also be incredibly, horribly, awfully petty, and takes advantage of her often-if-not-always superior resources to smack down her enemies like flies. She’s a very practical person, and will always choose the most logical pathway in any situation. Risa is lesbian, but the only people she’s ever been attracted to in any way at all is her computer wife Carol, and a giant, sentient, anti-orbital gun she met once on a distant world. Risa is the most difficult to describe in words for me. She’s designed her body to be lightweight but incredibly strong, with minor force manipulation. Thanks to a very expensive coat of paint and arrangement of parts inside her, if she goes ten minutes without direct observation, she becomes completely invisible and partially intangible. She’s not powered by fusion or fission, but rather, a captured god that resides in an enchanted jar in her chest cavity. Her body lacks a lot of humanistic features, being mostly a very smooth, rounded head with antennae on either side that resemble ears, and often move like them too. It wasn’t until she got Elias that she finally installed a proper mouth on herself as well. Risa’s Playlist

Samson Callidan Samson is a very gentle soul who speaks softly, and tends to not speak for long either. He’s wise and observant and a very good listener, because likely, no matter who you are, he cares, at least a little. He had a harsh mother who taught him whats-what, growing up in deep Texas. He has the ability to force people to do as he says, as long as he’s commanding them, like a built in command spell from D&D. Luckily, his mother knew him better than he realized and she was always able to stuff something in his mouth and taught him that his power wasn’t to be misused. Samson is not a young man anymore, but is old, and his parents would say he’s been old since he was about twelve. He’s a religious man, a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, though he didn’t join until well into his twenties, after mission age. He still has done his fair share of traveling, and some of it he even enjoyed. One trip into another realm left him handicapped, with only one functioning eye, and he’d say in a heartbeat that that was the worst time in his life. Luckily, his second wife, Cindy, thinks eyepatches look cool. He and Cindy live alone, way up in the mountains of Utah in a tiny little cabin he and she built together. They have had no kids together, but he plays grandfather to Cindy’s children from a previous marriage of hers. Samson is a gentle giant, roughly 6’’5 and of various European descent. He has tan, leathery skin, with a kind, gray eye, and his hair has long-since grayed, though once it had been a lovely gold. He’s built thick, with a strong figure that Cindy keeps filled out, and despite his age, he’s retained a generous portion of strength from his youth. He’s got a large scar that stretches across his face, going over his left eye, nose, and just barely missing his mouth. His nose, once handsome, is disfigured at the tip, and his eye is a badly-healed, still-freshly scarred pit in his eye socket, though one does not usually see it beneath his eyepatch.

It’s Too Damn Cold To Be A Superhero Today

Damien Lowry Yet another upcycled character, I’m still kinda pulling off the cobwebs and dusting him off, so his backstory may be subject to change. But, as a person, Damien is stubborn as a mountain, and the kind of person whose idea of ‘relaxation’ is more work, but work he wants to do. He’s pretty easy to get along with, but he won’t tell you if he doesn’t like you, he’ll just avoid you. He bounced between homes as a child, traded constantly between his sweet-yet-frail grandparents, his constantly sick or injured mother, or his perpetually drunk father. He’s pretty quiet, a result of too much time spent alone, or too many voices in his head. The voices, fortunately, give him a handful of powers to use as he pleases, and he does so, wielding them under the guise of the superhero, the Alchemist, so named for his ability to summon substances at will. Unfortunately, the power is very specific, and Damien never graduated highschool, so chemistry is a bit foreign to him. But he manages. Damien is mostly only interested in women, a couple men catching his eye throughout his life, but nothing ever really progressed further than crushes, and he’s never had a steady relationship. Damien stands at roughly 5’‘10, and while he’s not starving or emaciated, he’s still on the skinny side, but is deceivingly strong. He has some Native American in him, giving him darker features, including brown eyes and shaggy, usually un-kept black hair. His teeth are noticeably crooked and slightly yellowed, so he usually doesn’t smile with his teeth. He’s built sturdy, and hey, maybe someday he’ll fill it out.

Marcelo Blackwood Marcelo is, honestly, not that different from most super villains. He’s disgustingly rich, wicked smart, and seeks power. He does take the path less traveled from here though, because Marcelo is not mean nor conniving nor evil. He’s a rather nice mayor of a small town in Alaska that’s best well known for having the only superhero in upper North America. The superhero’s name is the Alchemist, and he has but one main foe: the Roman. Who is the Roman? Marcelo is the Roman. By day, he plays the role of the town mayor, a kind, courteous fellow with more money than he knows what to do with, and by night, he is a super villain, blowing things up and robbing banks. What is his motivation? Well, it’s his hobby. Keeps things interesting. His wife is his greatest supporter and literally his partner in crime. Marcelo is, despite all this, a very kind person. He’s very smart, he’s patient, and tries to do his best by the citizens of his town. Even when he’s playing the role of the Roman, he avoids true wanton destruction or harming innocents, bystanders, and law enforcement. Mayor Blackwood is 6’‘10, with pale skin, piercing blue eyes, and always well-styled black hair. He has a perfect nose, a nice jawline, and is all around a strikingly handsome fellow. He may be in his late thirties, but it’s hard to tell. The mayor is always dressed well, rarely dressed down any lower than business casual, and all his clothes are custom-tailored. As the Roman, he wears boots with thick soles so that he is 7 feet tall, and wears a expertly-made and expertly-applied fake beard under his Roman centurion helmet. The helmet also has a visor to further hide his identity.

A Menagerie of Disasters (Everyone Else)

Moe Moe is an older character of mine, and for the writing blurb I used him in, I was really recycling him just for the specific scene in mind. As of now, there isn’t much to say about him. He’s a pained, mentally-distressed individual with a very rowdy demon trapped in his mind.

---

That’s all, folks!

[secretbranch]

LRR OF THE SPARK

Okay, so in a recent live TCC, LRR was asked what planeswalkers they associate with “everyone in LoadingReadyRun”, and they gave some great answers, so I wanted to compile them as well as add my own opinions, so without further ado....

(also note that race/gender don’t factor here) Graham (Garruk)

Graham has cosplayed as Garruk for videos before, and you can totally see it. They also threw around the idea of Angrath, which I will admit I like better, but I also know that, for better or for worse, due to recent developments, Graham has cemented himself into the mono green man of the wild. (Plus, I wanted to use the stained glass art versions of all the walkers, and then I realized Graham was Garruk rip #whereareyougarruk) Paul (Karn)

You could argue that Paul is some sort of blue mage because of his endless experimentation in Friday Nights, but while Karn may not approve of some of Paul’s designs, he would appreciate the effort. Also, I mean, Paul’s card in Friday Nights is colorless for a reason, right? James (Angrath)

Alright, so a bunch of names were thrown around for James (Nicol Bolas, Gideon, Ajani [because he’s so supportive {sarcasm}]), and I personally didn’t think any of them fit. I then remembered a conversation I heard on stream (can’t remember exactly when, otherwise I’d link it), but someone referred to James as “Kind of a dick, but still has a heart of gold”, and that made me think of Angrath’s story from Ixalan, and I realized he was the perfect fit. Also, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard someone in chat say that James would make a great dad, I wouldn’t be yet another broke millennial, hahah. Ha.

Kathleen (Sorin)

This is one where you may have a different opinion than the LRR friends. Whether or not you consider it low-hanging fruit, you may have thought of Liliana first. While I do admit there is some merit to Kathleen being our goth queen, wielding her horde of Brave New Faves listeners against the forces of evil, a helpful, totally extra edgelord is not far off either.

Alex (Saheeli)

Alex was the first of a couple people whom I almost gave Tibalt. Early Friday Nights had him pinned as some sort of Rakdos Madman obsessed with explosives, sort of like if a goblin was a person. But, frankly, I don’t think the Demon Prince fits Alex very well. Alex is super creative, which you know if you’ve seen his art or his comics. He’s also been referred to as a “meme nexus”, and has a lot of information stored in his brain (which paved the way for the discussion of “Alex-isms”). His ability to create and appreciation of the world around him s very reminiscent to me at least of Saheeli. Plus, Alex doesn’t give a shit about your gender norms anyway. Fuck ‘em.

Cameron (Tamiyo)

Books? Notes? Yep, that’s Cam. Also, without a doubt, some of the deepest cuts and references you will ever hear on LoadingReadyRun have been from Cameron. He is the longest running co-host of a show where they analyze video games as art. Come on, the similarities keep coming. Also, Cam would totally be down to say “fuck your gender norms”. He is beauty, he is grace, and yet he will trip and fall and somehow find a way to land directly on his funny bone.

Ian (Daretti)

As discussed in the video, Ian is absolutely the tinkering goblin madman that turns into an evil genius in the sequel. Like, the show is LITERALLY called TINKER Tailor Solder Fry. Not to mention Daretti’s other quality: D E C A D E N C E. Some goblins will settle for any trash. Daretti only settles for the highest quality of trash. I feel like this statement highly resonates with Ian. Plus, there’s probably some “waifu is trash” joke that I’m missing since I don’t watch anime, but regardless: perfect fit.

Cori (Huatli)

They almost said Vivien, but then Cam pointed out (and I totally agree) that Cori would have red or blue in her color identity. So, here is Cori! She’s super helpful and friendly and wholesome, and she also reins Ian in when he goes a little too off the rails. That being said, Cori has been known to go off the rails a little herself, and is super creative, so Huatli seems like a nice match.

Beej (Sarkhan)

So this was what the LRR folks picked at the panel, and it catches a lot of people offguard. The universal first response I think is Tibalt, E̻̻͙̭̼̅́ͯ̒ͅX̸̠̫̟̙̣̮͔ͬͯ̈́ͤͤP͌ͨͫ̄́͏̠͉Eͦͨͨ͊͂̓҉̱R̷̠͔̮̲̥̘͚̄̈́̅ͧ̇̃I̲̙̗͇͌ͮ̃́̚E͆��̢͇̝̑̌ͧͮ̎NC̓̒̐͆͐͂ͭ҉̥̺̞E̠͖̐͊ͬ̔̐͊̎̕ ̮̪͒ͣ́͗͆̆̏͠B̥͍̳̲̠̳̀̓̏ͥͮ̈́ͣE͇̳̫͙͕ͅͅE͈̱̜͈̱̱̲J̼̉̔ͅ and all that. But, after thinking about it, Sarkhan is a rambling madman who turned out to know more about the universe than almost anyone, and isn’t that in the spirit of E̻̻͙̭̼̅́ͯ̒ͅX̸̠̫̟̙̣̮͔ͬͯ̈́ͤͤP͌ͨͫ̄́͏̠͉Eͦͨͨ͊͂̓҉̱R̷̠͔̮̲̥̘͚̄̈́̅ͧ̇̃I̲̙̗͇͌ͮ̃́̚E̢͇̝͆ͪ̑̌ͧͮ̎NC̓̒̐͆͐͂ͭ҉̥̺̞E̠͖̐͊ͬ̔̐͊̎̕ ̮̪͒ͣ́͗͆̆̏͠B̥͍̳̲̠̳̀̓̏ͥͮ̈́ͣE͇̳̫͙͕ͅͅE͈̱̜͈̱̱̲J̼̉̔ͅ?

Heather (Jaya)

This was another personal pick of mine, and I really like it. Cute but fierce is something I can totally see describing Heather. Like, Heather definitely has this very loving, innocent mindset, but anyone who has seen enough Rhythm Cafe knows that that statement isn’t entirely true. She also seems like someone who will fiercely protect her friends, and that’s something Jaya can definitely get behind.

Serge (Yanggu)

You knew it was coming. How could you not see it coming; the adorable doggo-wielding cinnamon roll who can surely kill you with his boyish smile while simultaneously actually killing you? Everyone in chat always protects Serge when bullies like Adam or James show up, even when Serge was sassing them seconds before. Also, Yanggu is a green mage, and we all know how Serge feels about lands.

Ben (Chandra)

In the words of Kathleen: “THIS ONE IS MY FINEST HOUR!!!!” Think about it. Ben has always said he’s most closely aligned with Red and Green, and here’s this planeswalker that can be both a wild child and super wholesome. Also, canonically a member of the LGBT+ community. ALSO, you KNOW Chandra is super supportive of people when she’s not immolating them. I didn’t even think of the Zippotricks McEdgelord thing until I was halfway through this. His individuality, his creativity, he is Chandra in disguise.

Adam (Koth of the Hammer)

Beefcake of the Mountains? Adam Savidan??? Absolutely. I will admit, this is what LRR said, and I would have gone for someone a little more studious since I know that’s a lot of the Adam we don’t see on camera, but as for what we DO see, hell yeah. I also find it hilarious that the guy acting as the conductor for the WE’RE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE train wasn’t even in War of the Spark. Rip in pieces, Koth. Matt G (Ral)

I’ll be honest, at time of posting, Matt is still fairly new to streams, and I haven’t seen a lot of stuff he’s done, but I’ve seen his personality through his editing (which is always amazing btw), and his creativity and very open personality is expressed greatly in Ral. Plus, I mean, when there’s low-hanging fruit, sometimes you’ve just gotta give the gay boi the gay boi.

(Bonus Friday Nights A-LRR-mni)

(Note that this is mainly their Friday Nights Personalities) 

Jer P. (Teferi)

Super organized, methodical, intelligent. Who the heck is WILLING to sort their cards, let alone OTHER PEOPLE’S? Jer has had to since move on from LRR, which is sort of like Teferi retiring from planeswalking.  And I mean, come on.

Matt W. (Ob Nixilis)

Hear me out. I’m not saying Matt is a demon. I am saying he is absolutely Ob BEFORE he broke the contract. Throughout his episodes in Friday Nights, he is ob-sessed (don’t you love my puns?) with winning. Furthermore, like Ian, decadence is a word that comes to mind when you consider the way he talks. A very sinister villain is Wiggins who returns every time we go back to Zendikar (or have a Desert Bus, but you get it) And that’s it!!! This was a fun homage as well as a much needed trip down memory lane. Hope everyone enjoys, while I know folks will disagree with my picks. Don’t forget to check out all of the links I hid in here. Big thanks to LRR for existing and being so wholesome and good. You guys rock.

[piaco]

The Dark Dinasty

The planeswalker could feel his mana and his powers fading as the servant sucked the jugular's blood. The creature swallowed the fluid of his mortal body in large swallows, in spasms of an irrational, blind, wildly objective hunger. As he tried in vain to focus on his distant mana bonds and recall the most banal of magic to get rid of the bloodsucker, he cursed his own nostalgic nature. Why should he have maintained this worldly, fragile and vulnerable form? He was a god. His power was unlimited. His knowledge was vast. He could have manifested whatever physical body he wanted. But why, damn it, did he remain so fond of this miserably weak, pathetic form from his distant times as a mortal?

His opponent began to approach, walking through the swampy terrain in slow but steady steps, not loosing the magic that kept him submissive even a bit. No more wearing his chained mask, his expression was a mixture of controlled anger and contentment, his eyes glowing with mana beneath his scabbed face. His obsidian armor, though dirty by the rotting loam of the mire and by the blood of several of the creatures conjured during the duel, also emitted a flickering, pale and morbid glow. Possibly the reflection of the last rays of the sun hidding behind the nearby hill and the castle at its summit, spreading the shadow of its bulwark. Or it could be just a glimpse of the last tibbits of mana leaking from his dying body. His senses faded. It made no difference anymore.

Striking with the hilt of his sword, the geared planeswalker took his servant away from its victim, making it pull large strips of skin and flesh in its fangs. He crouched over the dying, motionless body of his subjugate, putting one knee on his chest, and one hand on his bloody throat. This can only mean one thing, he said in a low but perfectly clear and audible voice. The inevitable happened. I won.

In a slow, steady move, he tipped the blade into the defeated opponent's stomach and pushed it in, then up, causing him to spit out living blood until the blade came out through his mouth. The lifeforce of the beaten man began to pour forth from his spark like a newfound fountain, and the victor came to drink it, delighting in power, and rejoicing in victory. Power. If there's a most valuable prize in the entire Multiverse, it's omnipotence. Be in control of everything. Being above all else. And anywhere, anytime, blood is the universal currency that pays for it.

Are you done? The female voice, full of austerity, sounded astonishingly imposing for an inquiry. The planeswalker in black armor turned in its direction. The long, golden hair of his inquisitor gleamed lightly in the last rays of daylight. Her expression was stern, harsh, disapproving. She was solemn and beautiful. Like an angel. He rose in readiness. But what?... He thought of the quickest spell, the fastest attack he could use. Damn it. How did he not notice her approach? How was it possible, to be caught off guard this way? No, it was not, that was impossible. It could not happen to him.

The blinding flash came before he could finish his thoughts. And then, silence.

***

From the ride on the bulwark, the Baron stared at the horizon. Motionless for hours, immersed in his thoughts. Time and again he looked away to see some movement, some passants, some light fading and some new flashing in the barony that surrounded the castle. The familiar sounds and smells the cold wind brought to his senses produced a strange mixture of feelings: a pleasant satisfaction and confidence, and an uncomfortable irritation. His domain was admirably broad, and unquestionably strong. But it was also eerily incomplete. Unforgiven.

For a couple months he did not send reinforcements to the patrols on the edge of Aysen. The last troops sent through the portal had been particularly numerous, and still none of its scouts, warriors, and shamans had yet returned. It was necessary to recompose the numbers before deepening any military initiative. But it was also necessary to do so with tranquility and parsimony. Resources were not exactly abundant at this time. Peasants and villagers have been through a low birth rate over the past decade, and the paladin order has been relatively successful in segregating and concealing potential new acquisitions.

Numbers. Mortals multiply like pests in a cereal warehouse, abundant and hidden inside crevices, far from the eye of the farmer. It is a strength of theirs, no doubt about this. A primitive and pathetic force for sure, but it can not, and should never be despised. We can not afford that. So many prey are needed to feed the predator. And she knows that too, that hypocritical lover of mortals. She always knew. As she also knows exactly how to exploit this strenght to achieve her goals. An old and uncomfortable inconvenience. The strength of one lies in the weakness of the other. Of course, two can always play the same game, but favorably breaking the delicate balance of forces required will, resources, and patience. The Willow had the ephemeral numbers at her side. The Baron had the time.

Sharel! The name echoed through the nearest tower window. Even after all these years, he never understood its meaning, or its history, or why she called him that way. But that was never important for him. The interesting part was that she always called him during her delusions and her crises of hysteria, and these were usually quite productive times, as well as lots of fun at almost every occasion.

Hello Grandma. The sarcasm in his voice, repeated over the centuries, sounded natural, even affectionate. Here I am. What do you want to talk about today? She responded with a guttural and rough sound, but she did not seem to have heard the salutation anyway, so that sound could mean anything. Her fragile, squat, wormy figure reflected well the senile and deteriorated state of her mind. But it did not even indicate the brilliance hidden under layers and layers of dementia, accumulated over countless generations. Her name was Ravi. It was written in each of the tomes, on each scroll and manuscript carefully stored on the tower's shelves for hundreds of years.

Ravi approached one of the dusty shelves, pulled out a particularly long parchment, and handed it to the Baron. Tanned, faded leather no longer indicated its raw material, but the strand of human hair that held it tied gave a clue to it. She had worked on it recently. The ink still emanated an ocher, ferrous odor, and it was still vivid and intense, with ruby shades still clearly distinguishable. Her handwriting was frighteningly precise. Each rune meticulously aligned, each drawing and each diagram traced with the accuracy and delicacy of an artist. This parchment was not like most of the others. It did not contain the words for ancestral spells, or rituals for powerful curses. The Baron had a particular appreciation for works like this one. Less privileged minds who could interpret the witch's foreign writing would only see meaningless drawings and disjointed words there, the works of some maddened visions of an old madwoman. Yet, the Baron saw there the patterns of memories. Much more than the ordinary memories of an ordinary life. Those words told a story. An extraordinary story, of expeditions to distant worlds, of wars and of conquests. Lessons of knowledge, and precious opportunities to achieve power.

The Baron himself possessed the knowledge which the majority lacked. He himself had been brought into this world, coming from another distant place. He remembered his homeland, where his sovereign line dominated. He remembered with satisfaction the pleasures of being part of a dominant and undisputed elite, enjoying among equals the powers over life and death. He was resent at being removed from his position without his consent, at being unwillingly used as a servant, manipulated and treated like a mortal. But he also saw in it not only reality, but opportunity, one which until then had been unknown to him. His previous life did not live up to his abilities. There were much bigger domains and trophies to be won. His lineage could reign absolute, not only on one, but on all worlds. And he would no longer be brood, but the progenitor of the greatest dynasty who had ever existed and would ever exist. The opportunity to make the Sengir Dynasty omnipresent and omnipotent was within his grasp. It was up to him to take it.

Sengir approached the old sorceress, took her rugged, cracked face in his hands, and stared into her gray and disheveled eyes, half-covered by folds of flaccid, parched skin. He saw in them more than the memories and madness of many centuries. He saw his own reflection, and far beyond it. Most of all, he saw a promise. And he would stick to it. He then kissed her lips, her cheeks, and her forehead. Thank you, Grandma. It's always a pleasure to have these conversations with you. I'm going to leave you with your privacy now, I just remembered I have a very important meeting. I'm going to meet an old friend and can't let her waiting.

As he left the room, he glanced at the old woman, and he had the impression of a smile on her face. But that was not important. Coming from Ravi's dementia, a smile could mean anything.

***

The dwarves in this world were identical to those they knew from the homelands. They were smart, but very stubborn. They were impetuous and organized, determined, and ironically proud for a race of mortals. Even their physical appearance, their clothes, their mannerisms were quite similar to those. It seemed safe to assert their kinship, even though they were only found here around the portal. Their blood tasted equally strong and displeasuring, and they presented an inconvenient resistance to sangromancy. They weren't anything collaborative, either. They presented the same natural tendency to quarrel among themselves and to rebel against their masters. Generally, they needed to be properly nullified before being put into use. Under normal conditions, they would be far from good servants, much less food.

But those were not normal conditions. The troops were in an inhospitable land, in an arid and sparsely populated region. Their resources were very scarce. Mesas chastised by an inclement sun did not provide adequate shelter for a breed of nocturnal predators of pale skin and delicate, highly specialized senses. The dwarf refuges they could locate in the area did not offer the best in accommodations either, but due to their precarious situation, they had been serving just fine as makeshift shelters.

Zanon had recently been promoted to lieutenant, receiving a personal appointment from Captain Veldrane. She fell in the Baron's favor on her second foray into the frontier, when her detachment of patrolmen managed to intercept a caravan of rebels escorted by a troop of paladins who practically equaled them in number, killing half of them, and redeploying almost thirty mortal fugitives to the Barony. She then began to command a contingent three times greater. Appointed to lead the research expedition into the dwarf portal, she received guidance and training from the Baron himself. She attended his mission with much interest, unlike most of his commandeers. The warriors took the mission for a delirium, a suicidal act motivated by caprice and madness. Still, they would not dare oppose their master's will. It was still preferable to risk an uncertain adventure, to face the exemplary punishment of the Sovereign of the Night.

What is it that you bring us this afternoon, Malakir? Some are even uglier than these dwarves, and almost as ugly as you. Bring them where I can look at them closely.

We saw others of these natives during the raid, sir. These white skinned people call themselves 'kor'. The deformed and stinking dwarves are called goblins. There are also hotbloods among them, though the ones here are very different from the Barony's hotbloods. We caught this group here on our return, snooping around the camp. And coming closer to the liutenant, he whispered: and whether you're my immediate superior or not, Zanon, I'm going to tear your tongue out through your nose the next time you call me ugly, you damn barrack rat. Zanon smiled at her friend.

The group of new captives was really unusual. A kor woman and a man, both defiant-looking, and a third that were quite strong, but nullified for causing a little more trouble than the others. Also three frightened goblins with apprehensive expressions in their faces. They seemed to be two females and a male, but that was a little difficult to assure. The commander bellowed at a group examining one of the strange carved monoliths of the place. Hey! Anowon! Come here! The shaman approached the leader lightly, solicitously. He spoke little, and maintained the solemn posture typical of the bloodwizards. Take a look at these strange new friends we just made here, Anowon. I barely understood what the stonediggers were saying, but with these new comrades here, I do not even know where to start. I need an interpreter. The shaman frowned as he looked at the goblins, but relaxed as the commander nodded to indicate the kor couple knelt behind them.

The bloodwizard pointed his finger at the kor woman, and two warriors lifted her by tied arms, prostrating her before him. The prisoner's gaze remained defiant, but she shifted it to the floor and lowered her head, as if realizing what was to follow. Put her on her feet. Even standing, she did not look at him. Anowon caught her by the stuck hair, and pulled her head back. He began to examine the shapes of her jaw, her neck, her jugular. He exposed his white fangs.

The kor man leapt over the three goblins toward the nearest warrior, plucking the blade from his waist and nailing it to the neck of the other warrior at his side. He did not know who his captors were, but they obviously believed that ropes would keep a kor prisoner. The kor woman took advantage of the distraction and also released as she grabbed the dagger from one of the takers and kicked the wizard away, then escaping through the pair of surprised warriors.

But the mutuous ignorance continued providing surprises, as the kor also did not imagine their captors would be as agile and swift as themselves. Aysha, no! The male kor screamed at the sight of the invading boss's blade coming out of his mate's chest. As the blade slided back, she dropped to her knees again, this time her challenging gaze giving place to a fearful expression and a silent help request. The chief pulled her head back again, and the reddened blade slid across the white skin of her neck. An instant and a kick that broke his leg later, the other kor was also on his knees, with two warriors holding him brutally and a third pressing the tip of a blade to his heart, realeasing a trickle of red. Zanon approached the kor, calling Anowon closer again. The cattle here bite even harder than ours. She punched the kor's nose, draining even more of the precious liquid. Do your job, wizard.

The visions provided by the mortal's blood were impressively vivid and clear, as if the shaman himself had always been present within the memories. Anowon had read the memories of other explorers before, but never in his lifetime had he ever known such remotely rich experiences. Zendikar is how the natives call this world. It is a pulsating and wild world, very different from our exhausted homeland. The magic here flows from every chink of rock, and emanates from every piece of ground. I felt it when we arrived, and now I see. My sangromancy has never been so potent as it is now. There is even more power emanating from these monoliths, they are worshiped by the inhabitants here. They seem to have some kind of connection with their gods. And this place, Guul Draz. It resembles our places of power, and is far more suitable to us than this sunny aridity. There are also several agglomerations of hotbloods in the surroundings, including more different types of them. 'Elves'. We need to find the place, Commander. That's where we'll have our best chances here.

Great, and that's what we'll do without loss of time. Zanon looked at the goblins, who watched as quiet as if they expected the conquerors to forget them. Malakir, I want your detachment ready to leave in a few hours. You'll choose four or five experienced bloodwizards to accompany you. Set aside the minimum necessary supplies for the first few days of an expedition, you'll have to turn out with whatever you find on your way during the next few months. You will take these little friends of us for a ride. I want you to find this place, this Guul Draz.

Yes sir. Should my messengers meet you later in this same place?

They should, my friend. I do not intend to venture all our troops unnecessarily into this unknown world until we can be well installed and strong. In addition, we are making history here. We are building something that will last for a long time, and this calls for a monument to match. We have here these power rocks, and the stonediggers are good with this kind of work. Turning toward the now almost dark horizon, Zanon smiled, remembering the Baron's dream and teachings. His Dynasty would rule all the worlds until the end of history, and she was he the one who was taking the first step around it.

Go now, Malakir. The time is right. As for me, I have a temple and an empire to start building.

[vorthosjay]

Let’s Talk About The Race, Part 1

The end of Ixalan is in sight (on more than one level), and the race for the Immortal Sun is on! Today we’re going to talk about The Race, Part 1, which at last reveals Elenda’s role in Ixalan’s past! Let’s dive in!

Adanto, the First Fort by Svetlin Velinov

The human guards dared not open the door. A vampire in the midst of the Blood Fast was tremendously dangerous. One lost to themselves would not be able to discern between the blood of the faithful and the blood of a sinner. Instead, one of the guards fetched a priest for help.

Good to know the Blood Fast makes the vampires unhinged. I also like the human’s reaction. We don’t really get a glimpse of the Dusk Legion’s non-vampires on the cards.

"Saint Elenda was the first!" Mavren Fein raved. "Her sacrifice is our survival, her selflessness the model of our success! I took the rite two hundred years ago, and under the guidance of Saint Elenda the First, we will find the way to immortality without the need for blood!"

Mavren Fein has been a vampire for roughly 200 years.

"Saint Elenda, the most devoted of the devoted, the First and the Faithful. She was born mortal, a warrior nun charged with her brothers and sisters of faith to guard the Immortal Sun in the mountains of Torrezon. Listen!"

A warrior nun? Woah.

"Pedron the Wicked killed them all. Guilty, greedy, foul betrayer of his own!" Mavren spat. "But she, she survived; she was nine feet tall! Hair like a raven's wings and nails like lightning's edge! She ran outside to fight Pedron, but the Immortal Sun had been stolen from the fiend by a winged beast in the sky!"

I want to know more about Pedron the Wicked, first of all. It’s also interesting to note that he wasn’t an outsider, but a traitor. This is basically the same story we got from the Pirates last week, which is interesting.

"The beast took the Immortal Sun to the west, and Saint Elenda followed it! Staunch piety! Blessed Saint Elenda!"

How did Elenda follow? By ship? Or was she not human?

". . . How did she become the first vampire?" Manuel mumbled from the adjacent cell. He yelped as Mavren Fein slammed his body up against the connecting wall.

"She was a genius! She was a visionary! She turned to dark magic and took on the burden of immortality until the Immortal Sun could be retrieved once again! Blessed wonderful brilliant Saint Elenda, the First and the Faithful. She searched for centuries and returned, yes, she returned to Torrezon, and taught her Rite to the nobles so that we may take up the sacrifice and join her in her search. Genius! Visionary! Blessed by the Night itself!"

Hey! Here’s the missing piece we were looking for. There’s some more timeline information here, so I’ll save the full discussion for later, but for now it’s important to note that the theft of the Immortal Sun was centuries before the Dusk Legion formed.

Also note the line I bolded: Blessed by the Night itself. Aclazotz is the Bat-God of Night.

"I was one of the early ones. I watched as she sailed back into the west and have waited for my day to follow her. Patient patient patient. I'm very good at waiting."

If Mavren watched her sail back into the west, it had to be in the last 200 years.

When Torrezon was finally under the control of the Legion of Dusk, Vona had a difficult time transitioning into a peaceful lifestyle. She had become a noble with her own lands, but the territory was poor and rocky, and it became quickly apparent she was not an able administrator. Her ennui lasted a decade. One night, in a fit of boredom, she decided to break the monotony. It was fun, mundane as a child's game, a quick way to pass the time. She stalked each of her human serfs in their beds and in their fields, and over the course of one happy week killed each of them as part of a pleasant game. Vona rejoiced in the sport of it, and abandoned her humble estate.

That was fifty years ago.

So the war to conquer Torrezon was over sixty years ago? It’s interesting that it ended right around the time of the Mending. When we learned of the Great Aether Boom on Kaladesh, we could figure it was because of the Mending. So I wonder what changed that won the war?

"See that dinghy? We can sail that upriver to the interior of the continent," Vraska said. "I'm going back for the crew. Don't die."

Don’t Die is literally the encouragement I usually give my staff when they’re doing something they’re nervous about.

Vraska stopped him with an outstretched palm. "Wait till I'm finished! Now, whenever we try to planeswalk, something yanks us back, and we aren't allowed to leave. Right? I believe that Orazca doesn't just contain the Immortal Sun. It also contains the enchantment that keeps us here. I was told to perform a spell to contact another plane when we found the Immortal Sun, and after we do that I think we'll be able to leave."

I wonder if Vraska’s right. Maybe the Immortal Sun doesn’t cause Ixalan’s Binding, but Orazca does.

Another thought, if Tezzeret is who she is summoning with that spell (which seems likely), how will Tezzeret react to Jace? It’s pretty clear Bolas didn’t plant Jace here, or at least didn’t let Vraska know if he did.

Jace was absurdly excited to put the pieces together. He locked eyes with Vraska and thought out loud with gusto. "We thought the compass was just pointing to the city, but it points to blooms of powerful magic." He nodded at Vraska's pocket. "Instead of magnetic north, it points to aetheric north, and it also points toward large outliers of similar kinds of magic. That's why it pointed to me when you found me, and that's why it's probably pointing to you now. I tried to tell you on the boat before we crashed."

She pulled out the compass. It was pointing at her, but slowly shifting back as the mark above her head vanished.

"That's . . . incredible," Vraska said, blinking at the thaumatic compass. She smiled, laughed. "The barrier must rely on the same magic we use to planeswalk! That's why the compass points there! You figured it out!"

I mean, we probably already figured this. But it’s still an interesting note. What is the Immortal Sun (or Orazca) that it constantly gives off the same power as a planeswalk?

Jace nodded. "One human, one vampire, a merfolk . . . and a minotaur."

Vraska's brow knotted in confusion. "A minotaur?"

Sir Minotaur-Not-Appearing-In-This-Story

There, lying on the rock overlooking the vast, unending ocean, was an unconscious female merfolk.

It’s neat how they lined up the timelines unevenly. The conclusion of the Shapers, way back a couple stories ago, was actually only a short time ago in-universe.

Huatli chose her words carefully, "I wielded a strange magic, and I saw a golden city."

Tishana gave a deadpan look. "You saw a golden city."

"Yes."

"Not the Golden City?"

Ha ha, Tishana is great.

The merfolk's pupils thinned. "I know only that the surface of our world is impassible from underneath. Some can fall in, but once submerged, cannot leap out."

We already know planeswalkers can’t leave, but I wonder why Tishana knows that.

"I felt a similar tug this morning," she said, "in the direction of the sea. And again, two months before, much further past the horizon. But that energy did not belong to you."

Okay, so first of all, I spent like an hour adding together all the timeline clues to equal two months since Jace arrived and they just give it away for free.

Anyway, here’s the Ixalan Timeline I promised earlier:

1,000+ Years Ago: Pedron the Wicked attempts to steal the Immortal Sun, but a winged beast intervenes and takes it west to Ixalan. Elenda follows.

700-800 Years ago: Elenda returns to Torrezon as a vampire, and creates the Dusk Legion. The Dusk Legion begins conquest of Torrezon.

Less than 200 Years Ago: Elenda returns to Ixalan.

60 years ago: The Dusk Legion’s conquest of Torrezon is complete, according to Vona. Peace Time Begins.

Two years ago: The Dusk Legion mounts their expedition to Ixalan.

Five Months Ago: Vraska arrives seeking the Immortal Sun.

Two Months Ago: Jace arrives as a castaway.

So here are our big outstanding questions, and my proposed answers:

Who stole the Immortal Sun? I’m still going to go with Ugin (read the full evidence here), and now that we know the actual Theft of the Immortal Sun was earlier than 800 years ago, it’s possible the theft did indeed occur before his death. My alternative is Aclazotz.

How did Elenda become a vampire? I’m going to go with Aclazotz, here. If you remember, above, it says she was blessed by Night. Aclazotz is the bat-god of night.

Why did Elenda leave Ixalan? I would imagine because of whatever devastation came to Ixalan? I’m not sure. Perhaps the Three-fold son won its war against Aclazotz, but it was a pyrrhic victory. Elenda fled to build the Dusk Legion with the express purpose of eventually returning.

Why did Elenda return to Ixalan? That’s not entirely clear. Depending on when she left, maybe once the war on Torrezon was over, she commanded a fleet be built or something to one day follow her. IDK.

I’m excited to see if we can learn anything else next week. I’ll have a full theory piece together if next week’s story doesn’t spill the beans.

[adashofstarshine]

Safe and Secure: Chapter Two Thoughts

There will be spoilers in these musings. If you would like to read Chapter Two, you can find it here!

Chapter Two is called “You, Me and R&D” and was supposed to have a lot more of R&D in it. The four main planeswalkers of interest in that team are Ral (manager), Saheeli, Daretti and Dack.  

Originally the plan for the chapter was each member of R&D to come up with their own solution to the Gatewatch’s lock problem, which inevitably led to hilarity/general inconvenience. However it struck me that a locked door is perfect for dividing the main cast up into pairs and those pairs could have conversations. It was the perfect set up for Chandra and Jace to make up after chapter one, and it was also a great chance to see a bit more of Gideon and Nissa. We’ve heard a lot about Jace’s issues with Liliana, but it wasn’t just him that was affected. Abusive people cultivate an unhealthy environment around them, so it was time to explore that a bit further.

It was also very fun to explore how each member felt about being part of their team. We got to see Gideon in his self-assumed role as protector, Nissa trying to work out how to deal with people, Jace thinking that it’s ok that’s he’s uncomfortable if everyone else is ok, and Chandra realising that not all people express themselves as honestly as she does.

We also get Vraska.

I wasn’t going to go two chapters in a Jace/Vraska fic without putting Vraska in. Her introduction scene is the first I planned in this story.  I intiially struggled working out what her role would be in a large company. The Gatewatch are the Help Desk because they respond to threats to the multiverse. But what does a security firm want with an assassin? The answer is they don’t, so Vraska doesn’t work for Planar Gate. Then I had an interesting idea. 

This story centres around one business and threats to that business. The business in question is a highly-technologically advanced security firm. So, what does an assassin mean in the context of a battle for the survival of a business? One lone killer isn’t a threat to a corporation, but one lone hacker certainly is. We’ll meet Kaya later, but both assassins are hackers in this AU. “Corporate Assassin” is Vraska’s official job title. She kills businesses.

I don’t know why Davriel is on reception. I found it very funny at the time.

Modern AUs mean considering what fictional characters might like from our world! As the chapter shifted away from messing with R&D, I decided I need something to explore Jace and Chandra’s differing views of Liliana. And thus, she got an Instagram. I considered calling it Instantgram for a bit, but decided if this AU has Pop Tarts, it can have Instagram as well.  This also played very nicely into hacker Vraska so I was quite happy with the idea. 

Jace playing WoW was something I planned from the start. I like the idea of Jace and Tomik being friends and this was a way to do it without Ral messing it up. I considered having Tomik greet Jace by his avatar’s name, which is Mindseeker.

[planarchaosproject]

Portal Saga: Chapter Four

 Attack on Kami

"Sir," one of the soldiers barked, getting Rinok's attention, "we've found a prisoner. She claims to know you."

"She?" Rinok raised an eyebrow.

"She won't tell us a name or where she's from. She just showed up limping and wearing ragged clothing, but she said if we showed you this you'd know who she was." The soldier opened his hand, revealing an intricate etherium comb.

"Ah, I had wondered when she'd find me." Rinok smiled. He turned his attention back to his tent. "Vilhelm," he called, "get dressed. We have a friend for dinner."

Rhyne jumped out from wherever he'd been hiding. "Dinner?" he asked enthusiastically, visibly salivating.

"Ugh," Rinok groaned, rolling his eyes. "No, Rhyne, we have a guest, not a meal." He continued grumbling under his breath, "Honestly you're worse than the Kolaghan."

Rinok made his way across the camp without waiting for Vilhelm. The vampire was still inefficient about putting on his armor, in all likelihood because he wasn't fond of covering himself from head to toe. No matter, Vilhelm would have his time alone with the Voidcaller later.

"Ash, how have you been? Wreaking havoc, I assume?" Rinok asked bombastically. Ashleigh looked up at him with a haggard hollowness about her. Maybe it was because she was tied to a post and guarded by several large men armed to the teeth.

"I've been better, Rinok. You have no idea just how long it took me to find you."

"And why would that be?"

"Well, I gave you this idea, didn't I? It's only right that I join in the fun." She smirked, cracking her chapped lips.

"You're not here for the artifact?" Rinok asked, confusion plain in his voice.

"Of course not. What would I do with it? Give it to Odom so he could give it to a dragon? Eternal destruction is my forte, darling, why wouldn't I want to join you in an interplanar quest to bring about total war?" Ashleigh forced a laugh, hoping Rinok would be to blinded by his own hubris to see through her. Vilhelm, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.

"I suppose you could bring in another demographic," Rinok mused. "And I am stretching command pretty thin. Rhyne doesn't tend to follow directions well."

"I do have experience working in a laboratory, and some military background. Did I ever tell you about the time I served under Oona, Queen of the Fae?"

"The necromancer's fairy wife?"

"Before her exile, mind you. Besides, you could use someone with my expertise. I have a history with demons and if you want to drag people into a war, the best way to do it is with demons."

"That seems reasonable. The oni would add another layer and if you know as much about them as you say, you could prove useful. I'll have Vilhelm determine whether or not you'll be allowed to stay. I can't have you running off to Brock or any of his little friends, now, can I?"

"What about me determining usefulness?" Vilhelm asked, straightening his helmet.

"Oh, just spend some time alone with Miss Voidcaller, here, and get back to me. Men, we can leave them be for now. She's harmless." Rinok and the guards left them there.

"Nice mask, Vilhelm. People here haven't ever seen a vampire before."

"You can drop the pretenses, Ashleigh. I know you're here for the artifact."

"Diamonds are a girl's best friend, but I prefer other shiny objects," she said. "Besides, you want this to fail."

"How did you…" Vilhelm trailed off, hiding the fact that she'd impressed him. "Improvisation really is your strong suit. You smooth talked Rinok the same way he does to the troops, and now you're turning my own methods on me."

All she did by way of a reply was wink.

"So, if this venture is to fail, how would you ensure it? I need at least one walker death guaranteed, preferably Rhyne's. Rinok is still useful to me."

"Anything can look like an accident, Vilhelm. I'll promise you one death, no guarantees on more. My policy is no refunds, either, especially if there are necromancers and/or divinities involved. You get me the artifact, I'll get you a dead planeswalker."

"You get me a dead planeswalker, you can have the artifact. Rinok's own natural abilities have made it obsolete."

"Deal."

0000000

"The best points for us to strike while the Orochi are focused on the nezumi are here and here," Rinok pointed to two spots on the map of Jukai forest. "There's a path that leads to a shrine deep inside. That's where we plant the oni weaponry and burn the shrine to the ground."

One of his men interjected, "Sir, that might cause spirits to be involved. Okina is the heart of the world."

"Isn't that the point?" Rinok asked smoothly.

"These might not be little spirits. The Myojin themselves could appear!"

"Nobody has seen one of them in centuries," another soldier countered. "They could have all died just like the dragons."

"Yosei still lives," the first man said. "I've felt his presence myself."

"Let the Kami come," Rinok said. "We'll be prepared."

Ashleigh and Rhyne stood in the corner, her dressed in dark blue armor and he in his customary traveling gear. They stood in mirrored positions, crossing their arms and listening intently to Rinok briefing his commanders. They bore identical expressions of conspiratorial glee. A bow was slung across Rhyne's back, the arrows in the quiver wrapped with prayer slips to banish spirits back across the barrier. The mission to Jukai would be covered by Rhyne. Rinok had better plans for the Voidcaller. Together they would lure out the patron Kami of the Soratami to drag the highborn cloud dwellers into the battle that was beginning to rage down below. A fabricated war between the Orochi and Nezumi had already broken out and showed no signs of stopping with the coming winter. Humanity led the charge against the Akki, who were also fighting the Nezumi over a perceived insult by refusing to lend their aid. Once the Orochi became involved in a conflict with the Akki, their forces would be stretched too thin to continue protecting the Jukai forest. The strike against Okina would be simple enough that Rinok could leave Rhyne to it.

Ashleigh caught Vilhelm's eye from across the tent. He nodded subtly. She was to allow this mission to go off without a hitch. If Rhyne were to get himself killed, it would be in an attack on one of the holiest places on Kamigawa. Her interference might not be necessary at all, which she couldn't allow. Not if she wanted the artifact. Vilhelm would get his dead planeswalker, she could guarantee that, but which of them would die was a trickier thing altogether.

PRESENT DAY

A gong sounded somewhere in the cloud city of Otawara surrounding the Oboro palace. Narset ushered Tamiyo and Genku's children back inside the house, telling them to go play while she found their parents.

"Why do we need to go back in?" Rumiyo cried.

"Weren't you just complaining about it being cold?" Narset scoffed playfully, lightly jabbing the Soratami child in the ribs.

"That tickles! Stop it!" Rumiyo shouted, leaping away from her mother's friend. The other children followed her down the hall, Nashi trailing behind unable to keep up with their bounding steps.

Narset sighed contentedly. The little nezumi boy had been so shy when he first came to Otawara as Tamiyo's adopted son, but he was adjusting. Other children and their parents still gave him disparaging looks according to Genku. Centuries, possibly millennia of prejudice against the nezumi didn't seem to help. Humanity considered them a nuisance along with the akki. Narset couldn't help but agree with that assessment. Akki were similar to the goblins back on Tarkir, and most were loyal to Kolaghan. They were a shrill, overzealous group that reveled in destruction, just like their dragonlord. She shuddered at memories of Clan Kolaghan's cannibalism, just another manifestation of their lack of a code of honor.

She rounded the corner to find the door to the room she'd left Genku and Tamiyo in with Kyari and Brock wide open and a space open around the kotatsu. Three teacups remained untouched.

"I take it that things didn't go very well?" Narset asked.

Kyari sighed. "It can be incredibly frustrating to deal with him. He's so stubborn." She scooted back and got up. "You weren't gone long."

"A gong sounded somewhere, I figured it would be best if I let Tamiyo and Genku know."

"What did it sound like?" Tamiyo asked.

Narset thought for a moment. "Fervent. Someone was banging on it quickly, prolonging the note."

"It couldn't be the alarm," Genku said. "The Soratami have had nothing but peace for years."

Kyari's eyes widened and she grabbed Narset's wrist. "We're too late."

"What do you mean?" Genku asked.

"I spent months tracking down Brock. Time I should have spent trying to warn you all about Rinok, but I thought he'd want to come with me." Kyari dropped Narset's wrist and rushed outside.

A human in the city of Otawara should have stood out like a sore thumb, so Brock never would have gone outside of Tamiyo and Genku's house. Kyari reached out and searched for any disturbance in the plane's natural flow of mana. Planeswalkers in particular tended to be noticeable deviations, carrying the emptiness of the blind eternities within themselves. She scrunched her nose and shut her eyes tightly, expanding her search radius until she found something that wasn't flavored with the lake country of Tarkir or the serene face of Kamigawa's moon. Brock pulsed like a signal fire in Kyari's extra sense, and he was hiding in a far corner of Tamiyo's cloud garden. Magic imbued stones floated just under the surface of the clouds that had been artfully arranged into a variety of shapes. Kyari stepped lightly, feeling her way across the garden and regretting leaving her coat on Shandalar. Beads of moisture began collecting on her clothes and dark hair, making her shiver in the winter air. Thin boots, leggings, and a light shirt were not practical for cold weather, or high altitudes.

She rounded a corner and found Brock sitting on a stone in a vain attempt to meditate. His breath didn't even produce the white puffs that spewed from Kyari as she shivered a few feet away.

"What is it with you monks and never being cold?" Kyari asked, stammering around her teeth starting to chatter.

"I grew used to the cold on Tarkir," Brock said, opening one eye. "What do you want? Did they send you?"

"No. I sent me. Brock it's too late. We're too late."

He opened both eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Rinok's already here. Don't you hear the gong?"

"I was busy focusing," Brock said. He heard it now, though. The note was being held with regular pulses to prolong it.

"Well unfocus," Kyari said. "Rinok's here."

"How are you so sure he's here?"

"I don't know. I just do."

"Kyari," Brock sighed, "you have to provide evidence."

"Okay. What has gotten into you?"

"Tamiyo never acts without taking everything into consideration. We don't know Rinok is here for sure, so we have to make sure."

"I can't believe this," Kyari said. "I literally cannot believe what I'm hearing. What even are you doing right now? Regressing to the point where you're trying to get mommy and daddy to love you again?" Kyari reached out with her magic again, letting the extra sense examine the mana flowing around Brock. It was still roiling underneath, but Brock had somehow created a smooth, hard shell around himself. "Sweet Karametra that's exactly what you're doing."

"Well what are you even doing?" Brock countered.

"You sound like a child. Sure, I don't break this out often, but you know I've been able to sense mana flow around creatures since I started planeswalking. I didn't do it on Xerex because, honestly, there wasn't much for me to work with, but maybe I should have, because then I might have been able to tell this was going to happen if you ever came back to Kamigawa."

"You were also too focused on your damned hydra," Brock said harshly.

"Can you stop with the hydra? I was responsible for a being that chose to be with me, forgive me for being so concerned with its well-being." The sarcasm in Kyari's voice bit into Brock. "Sorry if caring for my companion got in the way of whatever you were trying to do."

The gong kept sounding. Brock clenched his teeth and balled his fists. "Kyari, you just need to go. This isn't your fight."

"Oh, it is my fight, Brock. I have friends here too. The Orochi, Tamiyo and Genku, among others. When I first met Rinok, I was here. He tried starting his war before, and now he's got a way to destroy not only a world we both have ties to, but we gave him the ability to do so."

"Children," Tamiyo called from the back of the house, "I need you to come inside quickly. Something horrible has happened."

"What is it?" Kyari called over her shoulder.

"There's been an attack. The ruins of Minamo have been desecrated, a kami has been gravely injured, our patron."