#I try to write about my fanwalker
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Fuck It- Fanwalker Time!
Alright y'all- finally nailing down this little fucker's Magic AU story! Gonna put the longer details under a cut, but for now:
Avery Tallstag (she/they)
Race: Teifling
Home Plane: Urae (homebrewed)
Color Allignement: Black/Red
Details under the cut- Avery's story in any universe isn't pretty, so proceed wisely. And note- this doesn't follow canon. It's my canon now, and we've stretched the timeline and said "fuck you" to a lot of shit.
Born on the Plane of Urae under the name Miri Tallstag to well-off parents, Pavel and Fauna Tallstag. Fauna, an ex-pat from the heavily religious nation of Elas, was less than pleased with her firstborn daughter being a teifling, and Pavel did most of the work to raise Avery. When Avery was four, Fauna and Pavel had a second child named Auveri, a perfectly normal human boy. Avery and her little brother were glued at the hip- his first word was "Miri", and Avery was every bit the doting older sister.
When Avery was 10, Fauna snapped when Avery disobeyed her and started pawing through the household spellbooks. Fauna tried to kill her daughter, stabbing her with a kitchen knife- only to end up killing her son as he put himself between them, trying to save his beloved older sister. He was six years old. The pain and terror were too much, and Avery sparked on the spot, hurtling through the Blind Eternities and landing among the highest concentration of Sparks that she could find- the Infinite Consortium. The leader, Tezzeret, patched her up and sent her home- but he had something Avery wanted.
Avery, after moving to the city of Fairgold with her father and adopting the name Avery to memorialize her little brother, started planeswalking in earnest, quickly finding her way back to the Consortium and demanding that Tezzeret take her on and teach her to fight and kill. He agreed, seeing a young and impressionable Planeswalker that he could mold to his own designs. Avery started learning fast, keen to take her revenge on her mother in the future, but she ended up more loyal to the Consortium, and closer to her employer, than she anticipated. Pavel killed himself when Avery was 15, and she started spending more time off Urae and dove head-first into assassination work for the Consortium.
Avery remained with the Consortium until she was 18, at which point she and Tezzeret had a falling out over his treatment of her acquaintance, a young man named Jace. The two fled to Urae for a time, and then back to Ravnica where they settled into a routine.
I incorporate SparkBonds into Avery's story, if any of y'all saw that post I made about them, and they're one of a few Planeswalkers at the center of the Post-Mending SparkBond boom. They have, at the time of writing this, three confirmed. Tezzeret, the ultimate "It's complicated but I think I wanna punch him", Jace "best friends and also we flirt???" and one broken bond- Gideon, a comrade in arms and a friend (gotta go maximum angst, right?).
IDK if I'll ever really flesh out all of Avery's story- it's changed so many times, and a lot of it is still in motion. Hell, idk if I want to go with her getting Compleated and rebelling or her dying at Jace's hand before the ONE story is over and her lovely benefactor, God-King Behlel, collecting what he's owed and turning her into his Emissary. I've mostly been having fun tossing the Best Whore in Fairgold around the multiverse, watching them get into messes and seeing how many people they can bang and/or piss off on every plane.
#magic the gathering#mtg#magic the gathering fanfic#digital art#my art#yeah didn't have time for a full drawing so#might see what I can do with that doodle later but I gotta do dinner things now#fanwalker#oc#oc x canon#I was resistant to the idea at first#it was actually my wife who got me into Magic in the first place#and she's the one who suggested making Aves a Planeswalker#but I REALLY like how Aves has slotted into everything#she is SO fucking Rakdos like through and through#cw in the story for mentions of abuse and violence#cw abuse mention#cw suicide mention
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In wake of the ONE spoilers I decided to write a little something about Fayinn, my D&D Character / Fanwalker
For context, at the end of our Ravnica D&D Campaign one of the PCs accidentally brought back something infected with Phyrexian Oil to Ravnica, and the decision post-canon was that she accidentally a Phyrexian apocalypse on Ravnica almost directly after the end of the War of the Spark.
Wish
The creature that was once Acting Guildmaster Fayinn of the Izzet League turned a sphere over in her hand, shaking it around and watching the bluish-white electric ball bouncing off the sides. She scratched her head, running a sleek metal hand through the tangled web of copper wire that could loosely be called her hair.
She walked over to the window of “her” office and looked over at the courtyard. Chaos was unfolding between all four of her mechanical eyes, business as usual then.
She moved her attention back to the sphere, she knew what it was, she knew what it contained, she even knew how to open it, but she couldn’t. It could cause far too much damage to the already-struggling infrastructure of the plane. As far as she could tell, nobody outside of Ravnica knew that she and her cohort were here, and they’d be unlikely to find out.
Planeswalkers did not visit Ravnica, not by choice, not since the War, and other Phyrexians? Hah, forget it! They were alone here, no relief was coming, the only thing they could do was spread perfection or die trying.
Fayinn had handed herself over willingly, but not before throwing a wrench in the works of her “successor”, a four-armed four-eyed research machine that also occasionally went by her name. She had managed to extract her own planeswalker spark and seal it within the crystalline orb that now vexed her, this had made her vulnerable to phyresis while at the same time ensuring she could never be fully claimed by it. The fact that an incompleat individual came up with such a clever plan irritated the new Fayinn, and if her porcelain face could move it would scowl.
Opening the sphere would free her spark, yes, but what would that *mean*? Would it return to her the ability to traverse the planes, would it restore her incompleat soul to the perfect body it did not deserve? Would it find a new host, a Ravnican citizen that it could extract from the warzone to call for aid from the rest of the multiverse? Fayinn hadn’t known, so Fayinn didn’t know. It had been a gamble, one that could only pay off if she opened the sphere.
It had to be a trick. There had to be some way that she knew what would happen without passing on that knowledge to her current self. This pathetic, ignorant fleshling was trying to trick her own perfected mind from beyond the grave and she would not accept it! She punched the wall out of frustration, breaking off some of the brickwork, such a display of emotion would be heresy in the motherland, but being one of only two compleat Guildmasters had its perks.
There was a timid knock on the door. “Enter”, she said in monotone, and an intern entered, hunched over in fear. His name was Aladam, and he had been one of her subordinates during the War. Such a pathetic creature wasn’t worth compleating, but she kept him around for his unwavering loyalty in the face of abject terror. “Speak”, she said, regarding him as she might regard an interesting-looking tree.
“The-there’s been a b-b-b-breakthrough in S-spark research, Guildmaster”, the intern snivelled, “They say the S-s-s-s-spark r-rejects all b-bodies that aren’t its own, a-a-and that a spark without a host will die v-v-very quickly”. She considered the information, dismissing him with a wave of her hand, he scuttled away before she could change her mind.
She gripped the sphere tightly, cracks forming on its surface. The research had made sense, while the spark had not originally been her own, Fayinn had made a wish. Despite the foundations, this was certainly *not* Fayinn’s body any more. She would not claim the power she desired, which was unfortunate, but the opening of the sphere would extinguish Fayinn of the Izzet for good, leaving only Fayinn of Phyrexia in her place.
The sphere cracked and shattered in her hand, the glass littering the floor with red and blue shards while the lazotep bindings buckled, the spark floated up into the air, in front of Fayinn’s face. It floated listlessly in the air, unsure of what to do, but then stopped and approached her. She did not move, all of the rules of sparks told her that it would fizzle and die no matter what it did from now on.
But Fayinn had made a wish.
The spark shot into Fayinn, passing through the metal of her torso and into her system. She felt something she thought she’d never feel again. Pain.
Fayinn screamed a metallic scream, every joint crying out in perfect agony, before collapsing to the floor in a smouldering metal heap.
Aladam poked his head through the doorway and looked at her as she picked herself up off the ground, chuckling to herself. The chuckle gave way to a cackle, then to a heavily modulated laugh, maniacal enough to terrify even the strongest of wills, but Aladam did not run, he did not move, he just looked at the machine. The machine looked back at him. If her face could move it would be grinning ear-to-ear.
“It’s good to have you back, Boss”
She walked over to him, snatching a steaming-hot mug of coffee from his hands and pouring it over her porcelain face, letting the liquid seep into the metallic joints and circuitry she hadn’t had time to fully adjust to.
“It’s good to *be* back”
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Valaran
Valaran is a plane dominated by truly massive arcologies, completely self sufficient, self contained cityscapes dotted across the landscape. Some are massive spires reaching into the heavens, others are spheres residing beneath the oceans or buried pyramids beneath Valaran’s surface. While no two acrologies look alike they all share the same traits of self sufficiency, being built over confluxes of mana. Even the smallest acrology contains hundreds of thousands of souls, supported by mage engines that convert mana into matter, conjuring material from the aether.
While each arcology has their own governments all are in practise mageocracies, given that their vital systems are supported by the magical expertise of mages every arcology is dominated by mages. Whether it’s by political philosophy, economic power, or sheer intimidation mages comprise the majority on ever political body of note. To be born with magic is a golden ticket to a life of plenty, to be without is to be doomed to be looked over. Even democratic and progressive arcologies have mage lead councils and presidencies, the sheer power and importance of mages in Valaran society ensuring their supremacy.
The world outside the arcologies is a landscape dotted with ruins, once home to a truly massive plane spanning Empire, the rise of the arcology spelt it’s downfall. The old Empire relied on a monopolization of resources to maintain it’s hegemony, encouraging a massive trade network that linked continents across the globe to establish an economic dependence on it’s markets. When the arcologies were built, their self sufficient nature provided an alternative to the Empire’s tyrannical rule. Slowly tensions mounted as arcologies began to sprung up across the globe, decades of labour going into their construction, draining resources and entire cities of population into them. Eventually the arcologies declared independence from what they saw as a failing Empire that had been imposing it’s culture and beliefs on the world for too long.
Most of the arcologies declared a mutual defense pact, some stayed neutral or even declaring loyalty to the Empire. Each had developed distinct cultures of their own over the years but the majority all decided that the time had come to break away and become their own political entities in their own right. Each arcologies free to rule it’s people as they wished.
The war raged for nearly a hundred years, slowly swinging in the favour of the arcologies as more and more were completed, people flee behind their defenses for shelter from the war. Powerful magic was tossed around by both sides, the megaspells of the Divines devastating the very land for centuries. Desperate weapon projects were started and abandoned in equal measure by all factions, littering the plane with rouge war machines and horrific monsters that still roam Valaran today. This proliferation of weapons would finally break the back of the old Empire, by the end of the war the overwhelming majority of the plane now resided inside the safety of the arcologies, the once great cities of the Empire being reclaimed by nature and the land was seething with monsters lurking in the shadows.
In modern times most people are born and die in their acrologies, growing up on stories of how dangerous the outside world is. In theory each arcology is capable of support all it’s inhabitants equally, in practise every arcology experiences a massive inequality in the distribution of resources. While people with magical talent make up barely a quarter of the any arcology, they take up over 70% of most the resources in most arcologies. Massively opulent and hedonistic parties are thrown from golden towers while non magic’s busy themselves with making a living Most people live comfortable lives and public education is a mandatory policy in every arcology so that only the poorest reach adulthood illiterate.
Because each arcology is self sufficient traffic beyond the walls is an uncommon occurrence. But it’s not unheard off; for the fabulously rich, mostly mages, they travel across the land in massive ariships, cruising through the sky on personal party barges. Everyone else is force to travel by caravans, hiring a small army of mercenaries for protection, or if they can afford it hiring a Hunter. Aside from tourist Mages the people most likely to travel are Adventures looking to plunder ancient ruins of the Old Empire for valuable scraps, travelling merchants and performers, or people just desperate enough to risk life and limb for a taste of opportunity somewhere else.
And that opportunity is found in two places the Freeholds or the Frontiers. The Frontiers communities of people who for whatever reason leave the arcologies to eek out an existence in the world beyond the arcology walls. These townships usually spring up around major trade routes, if a community can survive the initial few years and establish themselves with the patronage of an Arcology they usually grow into small cities of a few tens of thousand souls. The Frontiers act as extensions of an Arcology, many Frontiers reliant on their parent arcology for advanced magic and resources. While more equal they still suffer from the class inequality of the arcologies. But most people who live in the Frontiers prefer their harder life of honest work makinging a life to toiling in a mage’s sweatshop.
The other option for people who want to leave their arcology but want to truly break free from the yoke of the mages is to venture out into the wild and join a Freehold. Freeholds are rough communities of people who wish to live apart from their Arcology. No two are the same, some are hardy pioneers taming the land free from the yoke of their mage overlords, others are hives of scum and villainy. Religious convents worshiping a Divine, secretive cults, Arcane research facilities that the mainstream discourse dream unethical, Freeholds are a broad classification that covers any settlement not subservient to an Arcology. While they rarely grow beyond a thousand souls, most dying out in a few decades, a rare few survive to truly establish themselves as real cities. The Free Cities are often less corrupt than the Arcologies but with the added drawback of resource scarcity. Most are forced to trade with Frontier townships for resources and the number of truly established Freehold cities is less than a hundred.
Monsters and the old warmachines are a constant threat for these communities, even the arcologies regularly maintain purges on their surrounding lands least anything infiltrate their walls. Which is where the Hunters step into play, mercenary professionals who travel between the Frontiers, Freeholds and Arcologies taking contracts on monsters or occasionally providing protection to travelers.
Hunters are an offshoot of an old super soldier program from the plane’s history, centuries ago in the twilight years of the old empire a cabal of mages banded together to create the perfect fighters. Children were taken and experimented on with alchemical and magical concoctions, out of a hundred only 10 would survive the procedures. But those that did developed superhuman reflexes, mental acuity, stamina and strength. They were made resistant to all manner of disease and toxins, taught a small amount of magic and purposely had their empathy dulled. Expensive, brutal and highly lethal these soldiers were also rendered infertile, least the mage’s weapons slip their leash and breed a new race of superhumans.
Effective as they were their numbers were simply too small to save the failing empire and as time went on they all died out. Or so the world thought, in reality a squad of these soldiers saw the writing on the wall in the empire’s final days and disappeared into the growing wilderness, emerging over a century later to offer their services. In their self imposed exile these soldiers had survived in the wilderness, learning how to fight the roaming monsters of the new world.
They formed the Hunter Guilds, becoming a group of mercenary organizations selling their services for gold and supplies. They still follow the Procedures that created them, taking in orphaned children or purchasing them from the desperate. Even centuries later the odds of survival are no better than when the Procedure was first invented. Often a parent who sells there child never learns of their fate, and in the vanishingly rare moments it is often bittersweet when they do cross paths. The Hunter often either carries a chip on their shoulder at being abandoned, or doesn’t even recognize their parents.
The origin of the Divine Exalted is a mystery as records indicate they predate the even the old Empire, but what isn’t is the forms they come in, seperated into Holy and Unholy shards of White and Black mana. On Valaran angels and demons don’t just emerge from the plane’s mana, instead a shard of energy is formed called an Exaltation. This Exaltation seeks out a soul that fits it’s profile and merges with the person’s soul, granting them fantastic power. A person is chosen for how they act in the moment of exaltation, regardless of the actual content of their character. Angelic shards pick people performing Heroic or monumental tasks, while Demonic shards pick for profoundly selfish or cruel acts. Because of this it is not unheard of for Angelic Divine to go drunk with power and Demonic Divine to be overcome with guilt, but the majority of Divine play to type.
The Divine barely number more than 600 in total, a combination of the rarity of their creation and the tendency for new exalted to take massive risks while still riding the initial wave of power. The Divine are to the best knowledge of the plane immortal, the Exaltations keeping the bodies of their hosts sturdy and strong. The Angels and Demons of Valaran share some traits with their counterparts across the multiverse, but the biggest divergence is that the powers of the exalted is determined by the abilities of the host as the Divine shards boost it’s host’s abilities beyond what is possible by mere mortals. A mortal swordsman can parry an axe, with training an Exalted can parry magic. A mortal mage can throw fire, an Exalted mage can incinerate cities. The Divine look mortal, capable to manifesting their otherworldly nature at will, the only signs that a person of more than mortal is the tell tale glow of their eyes. Angels possess glowing golden pupils while Demons possess similar violet pupils. Many an arrogant mage or conniving trickster has sought to mimic this through illusion magic, though many Divine loath impersonation and most use this strategy sparingly to avoid retribution.
For this reason the Divine are venerated far and wide, with many setting up massive cults of personality around themselves. On Valaran most Arcologies have at least one patron Divine, or multiple. For the most part though the Divine don’t factor into the daily lives of the people and are content to enjoy the mind boggling luxuries afforded to them.
#Alethea#Fanwalker#Valaran#I try to write about my fanwalker#Ended up writing a dissertation on my fan plane#Writer problems
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A Mind Wreathed In Flame - Chapter One
I was bored, and decided that I wanted to write a story for my fanwalker, Tolro Ketsord. So, here we are! I have no idea how to put the "read more" thing on mobile so I'm.. so so sorry about that.
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It was a late night, and the library was fairly empty. Not many people remained, except for three apprentices. One, Jax Kierim, simply trying to learn the way of the law. The second, Tamlin (who didn't care for his family name), who was bored seeing as he couldn't cause trouble with Jax here. Both seemed exhausted, wanting to go home, if not for the third. An elemental mind mage named Tolro Ketsord.
Tolro flipped through another book, pushing up his glasses. Sure, he could hear their friends wonder to themselves when they would go home, but he was able to ignore them well enough. It was only two people, and they were easy enough to tune out. Especially when he had just about learned of a new technique.
"Tolro, come on. It's almost midnight. Can't you test this out tomorrow?" Tamlin groaned, leaning on the table. He looked bored, gray hair flopping over his eyes.
"Just fifteen more minutes! I think I've figured this out!" Tolro responded, slamming the book on the table.
Jax huffed, folding his arms. "I have the exam tomorrow. Did you have to drag me along for your magic tricks? You're reading fifty year old history and spell books. What could you possibly have figured out?"
"Oh shut up, with your early sleep schedule. It's not like you can change the shape of fire." Tamlin countered.
"No, but I value getting things done."
"So moral heavy…"
"Trouble maker…"
Tolro suppressed a snicker. They knew how much the two really liked each other, despite their differences. They've been like this since they were young. But he wasn't going to intervene. He had something to test. He grabbed and lit the lantern that was on the nearby table.
"Well, you two can stop bickering now! I've figured it out!" They smiled triumphantly. They pulled the candle out of the lantern - Hm, perhaps I should have done that first? Good thing I'm wearing my gloves, this wax is hot. - and put it on the table. "Alright!"
"You're not going to accidentally put out the fire again, are you?" Jax said, glaring over his glasses. Though Tolro knew he was actually interested, he didn't want to let Jax know he read his thoughts.
"Don't listen to him, he just wants to worry about his law stuff." Tamlin said, smirking a bit.
"I honestly think I've figured this out. Just have to focus."
"Well get on with it!"
Tolro sighed, ignoring the two's banter and thoughts as well as he could. He focused on the candle's flame. Its flickering dance. A small manifestation of pure red mana. Never truly tamed. Not until he had focused fully, that is. It seemed to grow more erratic, a few deep blue sparks coming off of the larger flame.
The flame grew warmer, taller, before it's color shifted. Warm reds and oranges turned to a cold, almost icy blue. The flame was warmer, and grew still. Not even flickering.
Step one, complete. Not that that was an insanely insane fear for him. Controlling a flame with just his mind was easy.
He made a "come here" motion with his hand, drawing the flame away from the candle's wick, hovering over his hand. His other hand circled over the flame, willing it to grow. From a small candle's light to a large, flickering ball, almost to the size of his head. Tolro sighed, focusing on the feeling of mingling his mental abilities with the flames themselves.
His gray eyes sparked blue ever so slightly as he expanded the ball into more of a block, then sent it up several feet over the trio's heads. The swirling blue flames cast a pale light over the room, the old dusty tomes, and the three. Tolro moved his hands, almost using them as a way to focus even further as he shaped the flames into a wall, an orb, the shape of a small bird.
The books were right! He simply had to find a better way to connect and focus fully on what he was doing. Tolro broke into a grin, now aiming to dissipate the flame. But his brief distraction sent a few sparks flying - catching the dry wood of a shelf ablaze.
"What're you doing? You've gotta contain it, right?!" Tamlin snapped, concern tinging his normally calm yet teasing voice.
"Tolro, these are some of Dominaria's oldest books, if you don't put it out-" Jax tried to continue, before Tamlin elbowed him in the side.
"That's what you're worried about?"
"I'm - I'm trying! Don't worry-" Tolro tried to respond, trying to draw the fire back. But panic made focusing much more difficult, many of the flames reverting back a warm red as the dry wood and paper caught ablaze like any common tinder. Sparks flying, catching another area on fire. Then another.
The fire was getting too large, too fast.
Tolro found himself backing up, trying the best he could to contain the fire but he was having trouble. Smoke choking the air, and even furthermore, worry for his friends clouding his mind. "Jax, Tamlin, get out of here! The main entrance should be safe, I'll find another way out!"
"Are you crazy? You'll die-"
"We don't have time to argue, Jax!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Tolro saw Tamlin tug Jax out of the burning room. Good. They'll get to safety. He thought, trying to dullen the flames. The tips of the now roaring fire turned blue as he pulled them downwards, trying to pull them back towards him. Back to a controllable size. Maybe the most he'd half to deal with was the guilt of burning a common room!
But he hadn't noticed how far the flames had spread, catching the bottom of his deep red cloak aflame. At this, their concentration completely broke. They stamped out the flames, then actually looked around, and heard the creak of the roof above. There was no other choice, they had to run.
And run they did, rolling out of the way just as a beam crashed into the desk, the flame instantly catching. Tolro knew how to get to the back entrance, and ran that way. He choked on each breath, smoke clinging to his lungs and clouding his glasses. He barely broke through the door in time, falling on the pavement outside.
Tolro coughed, hacking up what smoke remained in his lungs. He lay there, catching his breath for what seemed like ages, before a roar and a crash from inside the library broke the stillness of the night. He turned, just as the roof caved in on the library.
"Oh no- no no no- did they get out? They have to have gotten out." He mumbled to himself, eyes widening. He forced himself to his feet, and dashed down the side street to get to the main entrance. Surely Jax and Tamlin had to have escaped. They were fast, he knew this! They had to be okay, right?
"Jax! Tamlin! Where are you!" He yelled, glancing up and down the main road. Noone was in sight. Other than a few passerby who gawked at the fire, thoughts of wonder annoyingly loud. Tolro looked back at the fire, before repeatedly calling his best friend's names as he searched nearby. Noone familiar in sight.
Then something familiar caught his eye. Under a beam, close to the edge of the fire. He ran over, separating what flames he could as he tried to move the beam. He could only move it a little bit, before he saw what had been trapped beneath. Tolro stumbled back, gasping in horror.
No, no no, this can't be real. This isn't happening.
Two bodies. Scorched, clothes burned. One having clearly tried to shield or shove the other out of the way of the falling beam. Jax and Tamlin lay there, unmoving. Eyes glassy. Mouths open in a silent plea for help.
Tolro had to be hallucinating. Something had to be wrong. Maybe they were… dummies. Replicas. Or maybe this was a cruel joke. Surely that wasn't them? No, that couldn't be it. He recognized the gold watch on Tamlin's wrist. The one he had DEFINITELY stolen at a funeral.
Everything seemed to slow, but everything was too loud. People's thoughts AND their words. The roar of the remaining flames. Tolro's own thoughts.
He had killed them. His best and only friends in the world. He couldn't control his stupid magic, hadn't been able to save him. He was as good as - no, he WAS a murderer. He dropped to his knees, giving a yell of grief as he clamped his hands over his ears. Tolro's head rang with the noise and with an odd pain. He felt odd, overwhelmed, almost dizzy, vision blurry.
Tolro slumped over onto his side, seeing a brief flash of light before he passed out.
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So, I'm gonna hit you back with this. What hobbies and such do your fanwalkers like to do?
First of all thank you for throwing this ask back to me, I so rarely get asks about my oc's and it always makes my day when I do.
Marcel enjoys dancing and is very good at it, from the proper waltzes of a masquerade to a group dances of the Fey Queen's Fest. He has a pleasant singing voice and can carrier a toon. Growing up a peasant Marcel was taught to sew by his mother, and it has always been something Marcel enjoyed doing to keep his hands busy. Though it has evolved from simply maintaining his clothing, to Marcel altering his own outfits to be more astatically pleasing. He has also dose embordering and like adding little personal touches to his outfits.
He is a avid baker and enjoys trying to make sweets and breads he encounters in his travels. Though his go to comfort dish is a simple peasants blackberry cobbler, it is never as good as his mothers though.
Marcel also has a passion of poetry and love reading the works of poets from other planes. He even tries his hand at it, though he is to embarrassed to share it with anyone, mostly because they tend to be about his crush of the day.
Niphorbis is an anthropologist of sorts who has filled libraries on the study of indigenous magical cultures. He loves stargazing and learning about the night sky and constellations of other worlds. Being a sphinx Niphorbis loves to tell riddles and do puzzles in his spare time. Though his favorite hobby is to find a nice sunny roof to lay on and just people watch.
Not much of a shock but my music themed half orc is in fact a very talented musician. Nivel plays the violin, flute and the piano. He is also a composer, writing symphonies in the way a wizard would craft his spells. Being from Hyverta Nivel makes practices many different forms of art, from impressionistic painting to sculpting. He is also a armature alchemist.
Shepherd response would be making love as my demon ram is a man whore of a hippy and believe is free love and affection for everyone who want it. My response would be that before he joined the flock of Liesa he was a blacksmith, and he still practices occasionally. Forging weapons' but as well as rings and other trinkets that get give to those he caries about.
Mollycap is still far to new the the universe to have really picked up any real hobbies, though her quick trip to Golgarthum unlocked a talent for cooking. My girl makes a mean chicken noodle soup!
Serrabeth enjoys knitting and has even before she was brought back as eventually a grandmother in a power suit. She is also a avid collator of unique weapons', coins, armor and knickknacks' she find on other planes. Many of which have found their way from her collection in influence Crusabella after her death. Such as the enchanted stain glass of Benalia.
Baba Yule is a avid gardener and what ever cottage she has set up in some planar backwoods often has a cute little flower patch right next to it. Many of the flower are used in her hobby of brewing herbal tinctures. She enjoys cooking, as well as whittling small animal totems. She also likes to make up fairy tales that tend to find their way into nearby villages , most of which are "Stay out of the woods children it not safe for you."
When Dillon was just a shepherd boy in the hills around the great loch of Ta'mor, he favorite pastime was daydreaming. He now lives in the daydream of of others Win, win in his book.
Like I mentioned in another post, Sagara keeps a private garden of the rare and dangerous man eating flowers found in the rainforests of Jungala. He is also a patron of the arts and architecture, enjoys philosophical debates and plays the sitar.
Shari is a competitive man and enjoys competing with others in all manner of activates. His top favorers being hunting and wrestling. He enjoys working out and training with new weapons' the more exotic the better. He also enjoy patriating in traditional dances.
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My next ‘walker up for @leafdrake-haven's Fanwalker February is Nireta!
Art from @isharton and @zombieella
Name: Nireta
Colors: Dimir (Blue – Black)
Age: Early 20s
Plane of Origin: Theros
First Planeswalk: Ravnica
History: Nireta’s early life was a simple one. Her formative years were mostly uneventful, growing up in relative solitude on a small archipelago. The only saving grace was that the seas of Theros were often fraught with danger and cargo from various wreckage would wash up on her shores. While she couldn’t read this human script, the seemingly unlimited possibilities and mysticism of these foreign texts wowed her. Her life would change when a nymph emissary sent by Phenax appeared before her one night. He knew of her struggle for entertainment and offered her the ability to read, write, and speak human tongues with the vague condition of owing the pantheon one favor they could collect at any time. The nymph barely even finished the offer before Nireta made her decision.
To Nireta, this deal was glorious. She openly flew out and raided human ships and coastal towns now. Although she never intended to hurt anyone on these raids, she often made mistakes and it wasn’t uncommon for her to leave collateral damage. Phenax, however, had planned for the long game. Theros would always need heroes and heroes would need monsters to slay. Sometimes it was more entertaining to give fate a little push in the right direction. It took years for Nireta’s curiosity to turn into unintended greed, but eventually she drew the attention of a Meletian glory seeker. In the cover of darkness, the budding warrior scaled the near sheer cliff-side walls leading to her cave home and attacked her while she slept. She desperately tried to fight back, but found herself overpowered and with a gash down her back, she was thrown from her home into the sea below.
Broken and bloodied, her mind began to fade as she was pulled below the tide. Before the numbing cold took her from the living world, her spark ignited and her fate was changed. She awoke coughing up seawater in the Ravnican sewers. She spent weeks there, healing and resting by ensnaring various Golgari in her song before she had the courage to venture out into this new world. She spent years on Ravnica, bounching from place to place in the city’s underbelly, scratching together her life again. Despite keeping a low profile, she was eventually found by the Dimir and a second major agreement came into her life. On a job by job basis, she traded her skills for place to live and safety. Although her life is a simple one as she is picky with her work and avoids the guild politics, its safe and she has base to explore the multiverse for trinkets and piques of interest.
Personality: Typically bookish and introverted, she tends to keep to herself more often than not. Having been hunted on Theros and spending too much time in hiding on Ravnica has left her with some emotional barriers people. When one gets these walls, she really opens up however. She’s knowledgeable and loves to talk about the many subjects she’s learned. She can also be a bit haughty, but this comes more from an occasional lack of tact since she was raised mainly in the wilds.
Powers and Magic: Nireta’s is mainly sound-based. First, and most obvious, is her natural siren song with all the mind-controlling and persuasive powers they grant. Both from her travels and her work with her Dimir, she’s learned to be much more versatile than her typical siren. She can scream loud enough to shatter brick, whistle a piercing note to disorientate, and even have her sounds linger in the ear long after she leaves. She’s also picked a few mind-magic techniques, even a few from Halona, to protect her mind from people trying her own tricks on her.
Character Themes:
“The Bookish Bird” - The main chamber of Nireta’s apartment is a large library with books ranging from important encyclopedias to the most random of thrift shop dreck. Her curiosity of reading and books turned into an almost obsession after her agreement with Phenax and she finds great enjoyment from reading and learning from even the most mundane of script. Although this has sometimes troubled her, the philosophical implications of how much of her is just a creation of a Theros god and potentially not even her own, it has left her with a startlingly broad if sometimes useless knowledge base.
“Lady Luck She Isn’t” - Whether this is an inadvertent result of Phenax’s magic or just a part of Nireta’s character, she is a really bad judge of deals. She’s not dumb enough to fall for something that will obviously hurt her, but it is a reoccurring theme of deals and agreements coming back to bite her. She’s working on it, but she has her lapses.
Notes and Asides:
Nireta’s gotten a lot better with people now that she’s known Halona for a while (and a bit of Halona’s Red has started to rub off on her), but she tends to miss a lot of social cues. This is mostly attributed that while her knowledge is really broad, its also really spotty. Think of it like Megamind’s mispronunciation of words.
Although it’s probably not extreme enough to call it a phobia, Nireta show signs of herophobia and still suffers nightmares from her sparking (I like to image she was at most a young teen, between 13-15, when it happened).
Nireta has gotten into the habit of wearing a really thick cloak when out and about on Ravnica. She hates all the stares she gets and has been confused for some kind of Simic experiment on more than one occasion.
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A Pile of Fanwalkers (Part 2)
Part two of me posting a bunch of “OCs“, since actually working out a better way to organise and present is this information is clearly too much effort. Despite the fact I’m putting what could be charitably described as an amount of work into these posts.
The basic format for each planeswalker will be a Name/Colour Identity/Pre-Ignition Typeline/Homeplane blob of information, a quickish description of them and some “fun“ facts, and then some hits and misses for extra flavour. Also, I’m going to split this into three posts - “Heroic“, “Okay“ and “Villians“, for I believe I have the moral authority to judge my creations.
Also some of these are going to be from fanplanes, which will go undescribed beyond whatever tidbits come out the character flavour. Others will just have a ?, representing a lack of knowledge and/or sufficent worldbuilding. With that out of the way, let’s go!
Okay
Not everyone is actively Heroic, and that’s okay. Generally, this lot might not want to help you out, but they’re unlikely to ruin your day just for the sake of it. Of course, some might offer to help if their skills are a match for the situation, or if they stand to benefit. And some of them might be a little rude, but they generally won’t murder you.
Ferroxi - BGU, Faerie Artificer, ? - While other fae are luring you around in circles, trapping you in an eternal sleep, or stealing your name, Ferroxi is probably rummaging through your recycling looking for useful stuff. Born on a plane piled with interplanar scrap, she learned at a young age the value in taking things apart and occationally putting them back together again. Ferroxi sees the wastefulness of other planes as her gain, and is always on the look out for anything that can be fixed up, melted down or repurposed. This doesn’t stop at the physical, either. With a bit of work, she’s managed to keep a few Infinite Consortium cells spinning, as a way to provided access to resources she’d otherwise have trouble obtaining. Ultimately, Ferroxi brings her finds back to her clan, where she is considered a peerless salvager, able to seemingly conjure resources from nothing.
Ferroxi has hair she self-describes as “rust coloured“ and brown skin. Being a Faerie, she’s just over a foot tall. But don’t underestimate her. Just because her weapon of choice looks like a sewing needle, it doesn’t mean it can’t hurt you. Of course, she also has access to all the various fae tricks, so getting into a fight with her is generally going to end her favour. Just let Ferroxi have your old lightbulbs, okay? When she planeswalkers, she disappears into a puff of rust dust. Don’t breath that! (Generally you shouldn’t breath planeswalking auras, but the metal oxides to be especially avoided.)
Hits: Recycling, Izzet technology, Moxen, white and gold bordered cards. Misses: Izzet security, large animals, things that can’t be repaired or reused.
Mazamat - UB, Human Wizard, Akkyria - For Mazamat, death is merely a setback. After each defeat she rises again, a new body forged from mana in her ziggurat. As a mortal scholar, her fame was not enough to enjoy the immortality Akkyria offered it’s most renowned. So through careful research, she discovered an alternative, a way to tie her life force to the leylines that shaped her world. She divised a ritual, and performed it to perfection. And in seeking eternal life, she found something far greater. For Mazamat was born long before The Mending. Her ignition gave her powers beyond bound. Even with a fractional of her strength sequestered as an anchor for her soul, Mazamat was a force to be reckoned with. She mastered lifetimes of magics, slew gods, and accidentally created a few highly dangerous artifacts. Unfortunately, even without meeting Urza, Mazamat was affect by his ruinous influence. The Mending weakened her. Enough that it was now the majority of her strength that anchored her to Akkyria. This made planewalking fatal. But for Mazamat, death is merely a setback. No Lich forgets their Phylactery, and Mazamat did not forget the mechanics of her undeath. While the first sucessful test walk only worked because of the Interplanar Beacon, it provided Mazamat all she needed to write a new ritual, and continue her endless study.
Often, Mazamat isn’t hard to miss. It’s difficult to ignore the walking corpse with glowing purple eyes, even you’d prefer to. She could put more effort into looking presentable, given her wide magical knowledge, but generally considers it optional. When she does wish to tidy up her appearance, she tends to appear as she did in the middle of her mortal life. In this case, she has brown skin and grey-black hair, which she ties back into a bun to get it out of the way. She also dampens the eye-glow effect, although they still take on a purple hue. Mazamat tends to dress in the classical “Robed Wizard“ look, ardorned with various magical symbols. Mazamat’s planeswalking effet is a pulse of pale blue light, occationally leaving behind short-lived inscriptions on nearby surfaces.
Hits: Mastering skills, advising adventurers (who bring the appropriate tribute), a kind of savory cake served with honey and dried fruits. Misses: Dying (it’s still not fun, even if you come back), Nicol Bolas, Urza, whoever started the rumor that flying snakes could be found near her ziggurat, because now she can’t get rid of the things, being stuck on a plane.
Pyrolas - R, Dragon, Ithmorne - Many planeswalkers are subtle. Many are careful. Pyrolas is neither, because Pyrolas is a red dragon. When presented with a problem, they consider fire and fury to be an acceptable solution. As dragons go, Pyrolas is considered implusive and quick to act. This is good for the non-dragons living with their domain, as it means Pyrolas tends to deal with problems such as bandits within a week. Meaning you might actually have a home to go back to. Pyrolas is also less than interested in the ever-shifting politics of the Draconic Confedracy, prefering to get their excitement from visting other planes, or comissioning sweet new artworks. Like many dragons on their homeplane, Pyrolas graciously allows non-dragons to use the singular they when referring to them. This is nice, because in Ithmorne Draconic, pronouns are also honorifics, and using the wrong one can range from “slightly rude“ to “mortal insult“ (it’s also nice because some of them are very hard to pronounce if you aren’t a dragon).
Dragons on Ithmorne tend towards being more slender, and Pyrolas is no exception. However, unlike a certain dragon whose name has been misplaced, they all still look dragony. Pyrolas has red scales, except on the underside of their wings, where they are a more goldish colour. Since they’re a dragon, they don’t carry weapons. Rather, Pyrolas is the weapon, capable of spewing flame, clawing rocks to pieces and able to crush puny humanoids in their grasp. Thankfully, Pyrolas is a kind of “take it easy“ dragon, so you need to try pretty hard to provoke them. When they planeswalk, flames pour from their mouth and engulf them, followed by Pyrolas disappearing. This takes a little while, so they tend to do it while flying out of the way of danger.
Hits: Flying around, treasure, the fine arts, hosting tournements. Misses: Really cold places, dragon slayers, missing out on the chance to claw Bolas in his stupid dumb face, that time they went to Ixalan.
Tanzor - GUR, Shapeshifter, ? - Do you ever wonder how the multiverse fits together? Tanzor does, and they've embarked on the most ambitious planar cartography projection in the multiverse to work it out. Of course, along the way, they’ve picked up a number of other projects. These include subjects such as planar topology, monitoring aether currents, and tracking planes that have been inflicted by Phyrexians (thanks, Karn). Most recently, Tanzor has been investigating the aftershocks from the deaths of Kozilek and Ulamog, and the appearance of temporal anomalies around Tarkir. And with the possibility of more Planar Bridges being constructed, they could soon have a whole new set of issues on their hands. Or claws. Or tentacles. When you’re a changeling, it’s sometimes hard to keep track. When in doubt, check what the person you’re reflexively copying has. (When in a group of three or more people, Tanzor generally exerts concious control over their shapeshifting, as not to freak people out).
Describing Tanzor’s physical appearance is difficult, since as a changeling, it tends to shift around a lot. When changing form, it appears that their underlying changeling colour is dark blue, however. For simplicity, let’s just say they’re friend-shaped. When Tanzor planeswalkers, their form dissippates, and they appear to collapse into a single point.
Hits: Being able to be anything, wings/fins/toxins on demand, high vantage points, advanced eyeball techniques. Misses: Being asked why they can’t shapeshift into a form that isn’t injured, Phyrexians, whoever was the latest one to screw up the multiverse (currently: Bolas, previously: Gatewatch, Ugin/Sarkhan, and others).
Xand - BR, Human Rogue, Ravnica - Xand likes to introduce himself as a cultist of wealth and taste. Which is not entirely inaccurate. He’s a member of the Cult of Rakdos, he’s got money to burn, and he’s very concerned about food. But don’t mistake Xand for some regular glutton, looking to gorge on endless plates of substandard junk. Xand has standards. Out of a dozen recipes, even after days of refinement, only a few will make it to the menu of his bar - which is an unusually “classy“ environment for a Rakdos run business. Sure, you won’t find any Azorius, Selesnya or Ozhov patrons there, and higher ranked guild members tend to avoid the it, but it’s a decent place to grab a meal or a drink. And for the fancier members of Ravnican society, there’s always Café Xand, which features table cloths, a wine list and a krasis of the day. And with the countless flavours of the multiverse available to him, Xand is always looking to expand the menu.
Xand has pale brown skin and shoulder-length black hair. Like any self-respecting Rakdos cultist, he dresses in loud, colourful robes, often patched together from previous robes that didn’t survive whatever manic Rakdos event Xand was last at. He also has a surprisingly well kept set of chef’s clothing, as likes to ensure only the right ingredients get used when he’s cooking. For personal defense (and offense), Xand carries knives. Lots of knives. Too many knives, perhaps, even when you factor in his excuse that “you never know when you might need to cut a cake, or dice some vegetables”. He’s also pretty good at using Rakdos “hype magic” to disorient his foes, since it turns out that feeling a bunch of conflicting emotions at once is really distracting. When he planewalks, Xand disappears in a burst of dark flame, which leaves a pleasant, yet unidentifiable scent.
Hits: Good food, fine wine, various parties, visiting Valor’s Reach. Misses: Canibbalism, bar fights in his bar, Orzhov insurance rates, not being able to get the right spices, people calling him Alexander.
Look at all these nice...ish people. None of them would be into Gatewatching, but they’re also not making things worse. Tanzor might be willing to help out if they’re in the right place, and if you can appeal to her self-interest, Mazamat might teach you something useful. But with the others, their self-interest is probably going to overcome their altruism most of the time. Of course, the multiverse also has some rather more... antagonistic planewalkers, but that’s for next time.
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I wrote fiction for the first time in forever.
This one’s for you, @bace-jeleren.
Characters featured include Bace’s fanwalkers Megumi and Grii, as well as the debut of my fanwalker, Gozha. Megumi and Grii appear with permission. Thanks to Bace for being an inspiring figure in the M:tG Tumblr community.
TW: physical violence (not on Megumi). Grii gets a little bit of her Grii on when she meets Gozha.
Duets
Gozha smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring. “Look, I know my request seems ridiculous—”
“It is dramatically unsafe, sir—”
“—and it may seem like a rather prosaic, proletarian, possibly even precocious use of your pyromantic prowess—”
“We don’t want to choose how people worship, sir, but this is just—”
“—but I came all this way—”
“The distance you’ve travelled is immaterial, sir—”
“—and I would really quite like to eat these deliciously spicy peppers while they are infused with elemental flame.”
The Regathan monk stared at him.
“And stuffed with this cheese I acquired from a terrific little town near Jhessia.”
The monk still stared.
“Pyromantic peppers. It’s the obvious next step in hot food. You could make it a business."
Silence.
"I’m prepared to make a very large donation to your temple if you allow this hagiography to heat.”
The monk thought for a moment, then stepped back. "Please, come in. I suppose if nothing else, the Abbess may be entertained by your request.”
“Thank you so much!” Gozha beamed, and proceeded into the hall. Good. There was always a chance the holy types would see his horns, red eyes, lavender skin, and generally demonic countenance and take it as an opportunity for some smiting. He hated that. He’d spent more than thirty years as a fencer and duelist in Valor’s Reach before becoming a commentator and journalist on the sport, while his clerical opponents had usually spent about two or three years across the piste from a training dummy. It’s never fun when the “demon” wins.
“Sir, are you alright? You keep scratching at those scars.”
“No, I’m fine. You’ve got quite the calm countenance, though. I usually unnerve people.”
"We are… used to strangers here at Keral Keep. In fact, there is another visitor who you might be able to help us with. You are azra, yes? From a place called Kylem?”
Gozha’s eyebrows shot up.
“Did it hurt when you lost most of that one horn? I’ve never known someone with horns, or who’d lost one, to ask.”
He paused. “If my mouth still moves after I pop those pyro-peppers, I’ll tell you the tale."
"Fair enough.” The monk folded his hands within his robes. “I ask because our visitor comes from Kylem, and you might be able to assist her. She is quite young, and in distress.”
“… Are you alright? I look like several people fought me for their souls and won. I’m not the type to have cherished children in my charge.”
"Well, if I may—you have traveled across many different realms solely for the experience of putting peppers infused with literal, actual fire in your mouth. You have more dueling scars than I have summers, you have more gray hair than I have hair, you are clearly far too busy to shave, and if the way you move is any indication you are either a swordsman or a dancer of some skill.”
“What if I’m both?” Gozha grinned.
“Then I will begin developing my powers of prophecy as well as pyromancy. Regardless. You remind me of the Abbess in many ways. You’ve got a reassuring way about you, despite,” he waved at Gozha, “all this."
Before he could ask what that meant, the monk continued. "Anyway, our charge is here in the mess hall, and hopefully calm. I’ll leave you to her and go ask after the Abbess.”
“What’s your name, by the by? I’m Gozha.”
The monk smiled beatifically. “I’ve learned not to give my name to your type. Your enemies tend to follow you, and I don’t need more ruckus.” He moved off down the hall.
The duelist watched the monk proceed through shaft after shaft of light from the windows, finally at a loss.
“Excuse me mister, are you from Ky—GOZHA!”
A tiny soratami cannonball launched itself into his legs. Gozha was nearly bowled over by the impact.
“Hey… you!” he grinned, as he desperately tried to recognize the child he found himself hugging. “It’s great to greet you! How’ve you been?”
He had misjudged—she wasn’t happy, she was sniffling and crying. That wasn’t a happiness cannonball, that was a comfort-me cannonball. “I can’t go home,” she said. “Can you help me get home?”
“Maybe!” No duets, now. This was serious. He kneeled, brushing her tears away. Black eyes. Where had he seen a soratami child with black eyes before? “Where’s home?”
“You were there! You were there for two whole days one time with Daddy and three other people! You never left the bedroom, though. And there were lots of bottles. And noises. I heard—”
“You heard us having fun, yes, the way consenting adults do,” he hastily interrupted her. “And there were many bottles. I remember now, Megumi. I didn’t know you could planeswalk!"
She nodded. "Mommy and Daddy took me on lots of trips. But then the one-eyed lady came and almost killed me with her sword… a-and I had to get out.” She twisted the bottom hem of her shirt between her hands. It was stained with tears. “I can’t go home, though. I need to go home. Can you help me?"
"Well, maybe. I’ll try. Come over here.” He took her hand and led her to one of the mess hall benches. A half-eaten meal sat on a plate nearby.
“Listen carefully, Megumi. When you planeswalk, you have to sort of… aim yourself for where you’re going. It’s not an exact science. Can you do that? Can you aim yourself at home?”
She shook her head. “I’m trying! But every time I try it doesn’t work. And I don’t wanna try again because it’s safe here.” Those big black eyes squinted at him. “You need to shave.”
“… Yeah, you’re Wren’s kid alright.” He rested his chin in his palm and looked at her. “Which means you’re Kuro’s kid. Which means you’ve probably got a plan all worked out, am I right?” He winked.
She nodded happily. “Yup! I’m going to wait here. It’s safe here. And they know what planeswalking is, which means other planeswalkers might come here and help me go home. Like you!"
"Like me, yes.” He smiled. An awful feeling was brewing in the pit of his stomach. “You’re sure you can’t, kind of… ” He made several small, useless gestures. “… aim yourself? If you think really hard about home, does that work?”
“No.” She scrunched her face up like she was concentrating. “No. She might still be there with her sword. It's too much. I'm too scared.” She looked up at him. “Can you hold my hand?"
He swallowed hard. "No, Megumi, I’m sorry, I can’t. It doesn’t work that way for me."
She started crying, as he knew she would. Poor thing.
"Hey, hey now,” he said, out of his element. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. Here,” he pulled the plate of half-eaten food over, “have some dinner. Food always makes me feel better.” He tried to smile.
She pushed it away. “I tried that. I don’t like it.” She sniffed. “It’s too spicy."
He pushed his sudden spark of joy aside. "What does make you feel better?"
"I like when you do duets,” she murmured, looking up at him. “They’re so clever.”
“Well, what a wonderful wish we have here!” he grinned, his mind racing. “Whereupon a wee wayward wanderer waits and wants for what? A wild wyrd of weird words and wanton whimsy! What fun!”
Megumi giggled. “So many! Aren’t there just supposed to be two at a time?”
He winked again. “Can a blarney bairn blame me for boosting her beautiful bunny-ears with the best benificence my booming baritone can blast?”
She giggled again. “No, she can’t!” Despite himself, he began to understand Wren’s choices a little more.
“I can!”
Gozha spun, which put his jaw in perfect position for the incoming punch. He saw stars and darkness. He heard Megumi scream, but it was cut short by a rush of warm air.
Someone grabbed his collar, pulled him off the bench, and threw him up against a stone wall. He could feel a foreign fear start to steal through his chest. Terror magic.
“You know, there’s one thing I never understood about you, Gozha,” a snarling female voice said. “Why do you always alliterate?”
“Like that?”
“Shut up.” A single, huge hand gripped his lapels and lifted him several feet in the air. The fear magic was making his vision tunnel – all he could see was one enormous, furious eye and some cheekbones. “Why do you do those irritating ‘duets’? Call and response. Everything’s an alliteration. Like you don’t have anything interesting to say.”
He tried to muscle down on the cold fingers of terror magic working their way through his heart, but they gripped harder, paralyzing him. “Maybe I just don’t want to tell you all the tantalizing tidbits. ,” he said, desperate. “Maybe I save all my curious curios and glorious gossip for when you’re gone."
"Filthy azra,” she growled, letting go. He collapsed to the ground. He barely felt her enormous boot as it crunched into his ribcage. "Where did she go?”
“The wee wanderer? Whither and whence.” He forced out a tremulous laugh and spat blood. “If you try, I’m sure you’ll trip over her. But I’d rather hinder than help, frankly.”
“I know,” the huge, muscular woman said, crouching down. “You’re Gozha. Washed-up old fencer. A coward. Eking out money writing about the games at Valor’s Reach. Probably living on a pittance in some tenement somewhere. So much for the old glory, huh?” Her voice took on a taunting, terrifying, childish lilt. “Aren’t all planeswalkers supposed to be great wizards? Where’s your magic, huh? What’s your special talent?”
“Swordsmanship and shit-disturbing.” He smiled through the blood starting to cloud his vision and the icy hand on his heart. He could barely see. “You’re wasting time. The wee wanderer’s ‘walked three or four more times by now. Better go catch her. And pray her parents and I don’t fetch you first.”
“Excuse me, did you require the services of Keral Keep in some fashion, or did you wish to continue abusing our guest here?”
The huge woman snarled and stood. “I will kill you!” she growled. “I will kill you in a way that makes your brothers weep to hear your name." Seeing that she was three full heads taller than the monk, she advanced on him. Her smile was a terrifying thing. "What is your—”
She was interrupted by a slim lance of flame that pushed itself through her sternum in the blink of an eye. Gozha hadn’t even seen the monk make a gesture with his hands. The cyclops woman screamed and vanished, with other, fainter screams chasing after her. The icy hand around his heart let go. The lance of flame became smoke. In its place, the air seemed to grow colder, almost biting.
“I don’t give you people my name,” said the monk. He looked at Gozha. “Are you alright?”
Gozha grunted.“Yes.” He stood. “I spoke with your… guest, before we were interrupted. She left, but she’ll be okay, hopefully soon.”
The monk helped Gozha over to a bench. “That is good to hear."
"That’s a good trick, with the flame, there. Very quick. I’m impressed.”
“It has proven useful,” said the monk. “It’s easy to get rid of your kind. The first lick of flame, the first hint of true danger, and you vanish, off to somewhere safe.” He eyed Gozha. “But you stayed. Why did you stay?”
"Had to give the little one time,” said Gozha carefully. Cracked ribs ground against his lungs. “I’d never met the big one before, but I know her type. She likes pain and she’s easy to provoke. Keep her talking, give her something to punch or kick, and she’ll take all the time in the world to do it.”
The monk regarded him for a long moment. “I see I was right to compare you to the Abbess.” He stood up. “I’ll make sure a room is prepared for you and a healer ready. The Abbess isn’t here today, but she’ll likely return soon. And by then, we’ll have mastered the proper techniques for imbuing your peppers with Regathan flame.”
Gozha grinned around the blood. “So you won’t refuse my request.”
“It is a ridiculous request.”
“And 'dramatically unsafe’, if I recall.”
“Which means the Abbess should enjoy it a great deal,” said the monk. “Goodnight, Gozha. Meditations begin at six bells tomorrow. I will see you then.”
“Goodnight… ” said Gozha, trailing off. He still didn’t know the monk’s name. Nor, for that matter, where Megumi went.
But he did a good thing today, and he was going to taste those delicious peppers soon. And that would have to be enough for now.
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The TLDR is that travelling to/from Jury Duty left me with very little money. It even ate up everything I saved for Magicfest Birmingham. As I won’t be getting any of that money back for a few weeks, but will need to pay for my anti-depressants very soon, I am trying this!
Get a Fic for a Fiver!
For £5 ($6) you will receive: a fanfic of at least 1500 words. Most likely more.
You don’t need a strong idea of what you want before you commission! Do you have a crazy AU that you really want to see done? Requests can be as simple as X/Y as space pirates. It could just be a scene you’d really like to see! For example: X wants to go to work and Y is being too cute and stopping them getting out of bed.
Fics do not have to be romantic! Want a scene fixed in a certain canon story? Want a story about family and friendship? Want to know what your favourite character was like as a child? I can do that too! I do have some rules, you can find them under the cut!
Previous request fics have included The Reunion and For Chaos! Also a reminder that I’ve done some rather random/exciting AUs like “A Little Touch of Magic”!
If you’ve enjoyed any of my fic, enough to leave me a tip, anything you can give to help out is greatly appreciated!
My Paypal is here and my normal commissions are still open, including for art!
Rules:
I will refuse to write the following
Abusive relationships.
Incest/Rape/Paedophilia.
Gore
Eye horror
Anything mentioning Stalking.
Fic with intent to start Discourse (TM)
I will write NSFW scenes such as sex scenes. They may not be very good. Check out Chapter Three of A Little Touch of Magic. (Linked above) to see what that might turn out like.
If you provide references, I will write about your OCs/fanwalkers/D&D characters!
If you want a fic for a fandom you haven’t seen me post about/isn’t obvious on my blog - ask! I might know it!
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Fourthcoming Interviews #1
(Context: The Fourthcoming is the Dimir newspaper local to the Fourth district for which my fanwalker, Anedia Kosel, works. After her file on the War of the Spark, she got another weekly column writing about planeswalkers and other planes. As she keeps her status as a planeswalker herself secret, they’re written with the help of “reliable planeswalker sources” that also help her check facts that she “couldn’t” verify herself. One of the parts of her column is, each week, an interview of a planeswalker, anonymous or not, that I might put up here. The first one I’ll publish here is an interview of a planeswalker that preferred to have their identity omitted from the interview itself, but is @land-ofthebooty‘s Medea. If you want your own fanwalker to be featured in one such interview, you can always contact me via tumblr or discord.)
Where are you from? How would you describe your home world?
My home is called Theros. And hmmm...I would call it divine, something from a storybook. It is a place of gods, monsters, and heroes. Where the boundaries between the waking world and sleeping world are but a thin line.
What do you mean by that? Do people fall asleep easily?
Dreams and beliefs have quite an influence on the physical world, to put it simply without going into too many details. It is a special quality to my home that I have never seen anywhere else yet.
Should they be a planeswalker themself, what would be one tip you would give to someone visiting Theros for the first time?
I think the best thing is to not anger the gods… And not announce your presence too loudly. Theros has a harsh relationship with planeswalkers.
Care to tell us more about that?
A few of the gods know about planeswalkers and are not too welcoming of them. [The interviewee mimed a throat being slit] They are powerful and easily displeased.
And why would they not like them? Is there anything our readers should know?
Some planeswalkers cause a lot of trouble, and Theros has experienced a few in the last decade. I'm sure after a few centuries things might calm down.
I think after what happened in the Tenth, most of our readers can relate to that. How much of your time do you spend on Ravnica?
I might stay for just a few days, while other times I've been here for years at a time. It depends on if any business requires me off-plane. The longest I've stayed is a little over ten years, and the shortest is ten minutes.
Ten minutes? What happened, you arrived in the middle of a rakdos party? Well, unless that'd be something you would enjoy.
Honestly, it was my own fault. I had left in a hurry heading to Ravnica to see a friend… But I realized I had forgotten the gift I had planned to give them. I had to go back home to fetch it.
Haha, well, being a planeswalker doesn't absolve you from day to day life troubles!
It is very true!
Would you say you're spending more time on Ravnica than other planes?
Yes, I would say I do. I take a bit of time on other planes, but Ravnica is like a second home to me. I enjoy it quite a lot.
So why here rather than stay at home? Is it because of those gods disliking planeswalkers on Theros?
Oh no. It’s nothing like that. I find it to be a wonderful experience...living a normal mundane life. On Ravnica, no one bats an eye or pays mind to me or what I'm doing. It’s freeing.
A mundane life? Are you someone of great importance back home?
I wouldn't say great importance. I'd rather say I have a lot of responsibilities that I must tend to. My name or deeds are not well known, so nothing like that.
So you're avoiding your responsibilities by living in another world? I'd like to tell our readers that despite them being anonymous, our guest today is NOT our former Living Guildpact, Jace Beleren.
[Laugh] It is true. I am not a young male human planeswalker with a fancy for the color blue.
Aren't you worried that you have those responsibilities for a reason, and that by living here there could be problems because of your absence?
I would get more sleep if I did slack my responsibilities, but sadly no. I always finish in a timely matter what has been asked of me. I take pride in honoring my promises. It’s not quite that I am running from them. I just enjoy the feeling of no expectations and having a space separate from them. If that makes sense?
That’s for our readers to decide. So you have a life here. Friends, maybe even family. How many of them know of your other life?
No. None of my associates are aware of my planeswalking. I prefer to be private about that.
What made you pick Ravnica specifically? I'm sure there were other worlds where you could have been anonymous on.
Ravnica sort of grew on me. I've passed through many times, and found myself enjoying it every time I came. That's when I ended up getting an apartment, since I was passing through more often.
Anything specific about our city?
The diversity. So much in such a concentrated space. I have never seen a world structured like this. The guilds are quite unique. Also... I enjoy the fictional books.
You're not the first one to remark on our world's uniqueness in this column. It's apparently the only city around and I, and many of our readers, still have a hard time imagining what else there could be. Would you care to show us what Theros looks like?
If one ever has the chance to visit Theros, the Seasonal Nexus of Setessa is quite the sight to see.
(Art by Adam Paquette)
And now thousands of Ravnicans will get the chance to experience a fragment of it.
There is so much out there. So many great unknowns to discover. I hope the people Ravnica ponder on this mystery.
They're certainly gonna have more to talk about! Is there another world beside Ravnica you particularly like?
I would say a place called Lorwyn is another place of interest. I also find that I appreciate a plane called Valla as well. I think I have a preference for strange places. [Laughs]
Strange? How so? Would you put Ravnica in this category?
Perhaps strange is the wrong word. Extraordinary maybe? Lorwyn has no humans, which is something that you don't see very often. And Valla? I... [The interviewee hesitated and stopped to think.] I actually don't know how to explain it. It is almost like trying to explain a color that you cannot see. It is difficult to describe.
Maybe we can have someone familiar with Valla as well in a future interview. How long have you been a planeswalker for?
Yes, that is probably for the best. At this point? I would say I have been walking the planes for 30 years. Still quite young comparatively to others.
How did it start?
It started with an ordeal, and blossomed from that revelation. I won't say more. I still have my secrets.
NDR: In case newer readers don’t know, most planeswalkers discovered they were one through a great trauma, which is why we prefer to not push them further on the subject
What's something you learned about planeswalkers you didn't expect, or that our readers might not know?
I would say that not all planeswalkers “walk” the same way. It seems when we travel to and from a place, it appears differently for different planeswalkers. I have seen some that fade away, others might teleport in a flash, while others might glow brightly before disappearing.
Do you want to share what happens to you?
I am wrapped in a blanket of nyx (NDR: Nyx describes a sort of glimmering night sky) and fall into the blackened grasp of the blind eternities. If I had to describe it in a poetic way.
And in a more approachable way, how does it feel?
Like you are falling, or flying. It is akin to both.
Last question... A planeswalker was responsible for the disaster only a few weeks back, and all to get back at other planeswalkers. Many here feel like planeswalkers are responsible and dangerous. What would you want to say to those people?
The Multiverse... life is full of so many uncertainties. So many things that can cause pain and suffering, so many things that can do wrong. What happened to Ravnica is horrific and a tragedy. However, a truth was learned. And all the people of Ravnica have grown in a way that would have never been possible before. I see a united Ravnica, and one that has stepped forward like no other plane I've seen before. You have all uncovered and experienced a great mystery of existence itself. The people of Ravnica, you are strong, and you have so much life in you. You fought alongside each other, with those that came from other worlds. You all banded together to protect what is most precious. And that is truly beautiful.
So I ask of you, do not fear the unknown. Do not fear the unforeseen. Do not fear what you do not understand. Planeswalking is a force not of good or evil, but simply of what you make of it. Make it into something special, and use it to continue growing as a plane and as a people.
Thank you for answering my questions today, that will be enough for this week.
And thank you for listening!
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The Origin of a Nickname
I had an idea for a little one-shot between my bant fanwalker Rhynn and her mentor/adopted sultai dad Elrick. He calls her Dove as a nickname and I wanted to write the little story about where that came from :)
(This is a fanwork and not endorsed by WotC etc.)
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Rhynn froze with her hand halfway into her satchel. She looked up at Elrick, who was fighting to keep the sides of his mouth from twitching up.
"Do what? You don't even know what I was going to do," she said. Elrick chuckled at her.
"Oh I know exactly what you were going to do. I know you keep all kinds of animal food in your bag. And I know you were eyeing those doves up ahead. I'm telling you right now, that feeding them will be a bad idea," Elrick said. He was amused by the look of indignation on Rhynn's face.
"Those are not doves," she said flatly.
"Oh?" he said lifting an eyebrow.
"Of course not. They're pigeons. Well, ok sometimes doves visit this plaza too but those over there? Definitely pigeons and not doves. Same family, different things," Rhynn said matter-of-factly. Elrick almost thought she was copying his own lecture tone and his amusement grew.
"Hmm, well close enough. They both coo, same birds to me," he said and then shot a sly grin at her, "The point I'm making still stands for both, however. Do not feed them." Rhynn stopped walking and put her hand on her chest in mock outrage, though Elrick was fairly certain there was a speck of real outrage hiding at the center. He resisted the urge to laugh again.
"I can't believe you would be so careless with words! Also I can't believe I call day-lilies the same thing as regular lilies once and I got a twenty minute lecture on leaf shape and stem structure and yet here you are doing the same thing," she said staring him down flatly with her arms crossed in front of her and her hip cocked to the side. Elrick finally chuckled.
"Are you trying to look like me right now? Because the resemblance is uncanny. Also, those are very different groups of flowers," He lowered his voice and enunciated slowly, "They do not both coo," he countered dramatically, leaning down so they were face to face. Rhynn laughed and playfully shoved him away by his shoulder.
"Wow, you really are in a good mood today; laughing out loud in public and everything. You better watch out or else people might think you're a nice and friendly person."
"Bahh, don't go around spreading nasty rumors you rotten girl!" Elrick said while forcing his face into a grimace. It was a little difficult; he truly was in a good mood.
"Aww, there's the Elrick everyone knows and loves!" she said with a giggle and then suddenly she threw a bunch of seeds in the direction of the doves. They all jumped on them with relish. When had she managed to get some from her satchel? She really had gotten better at sneaking; he was so proud. "See look! The pigeons are just having good harmless fun."
"You don't know what you've unleashed. It may not be today, or even this week," he began darkly, "but you will reap the consequences of this action." Rhynn stared at him, eyes wide. Then she stuck her tongue out at him and threw another handful of seeds. The birds gladly swarmed this new pile and looked at their benefactor lovingly. Elrick sighed deeply. "Well you can't say I didn't warn you."
A few days later Rhynn was walking with Elrick through the plaza again on the way to his shop. Suddenly a dove flew out of nowhere and landed right on Rhynn's shoulder and started nuzzling her. She managed not to not jump but her surprise was evident. "Oh, hello there little friend. Aren't you precious?" She said to it and started petting it just under its beak. Elrick knew it was only a matter of time after she starting feeding these cursed birds. He was very glad he was going to get to be there when she realized what she had done.
"Did you summon a new friend?" Elrick asked her innocently as they continued walking. She looked over to him, bird still on her shoulder looking pleased with itself.
"No actually, he just flew here on his own. Must have been one of the pigeons I fed the other day," she replied. Just then two other of the birds flew over and crowded themselves on her other shoulder. Elrick worked hard to keep his face neutral. "Oh hello, you brought some friends!" Rhynn looked bewildered but pleased. "They must have really liked those seeds. I'll admit, I did come back and feed them the next day too. They are such sweet little creatures," she said while nuzzling one back. She really had doomed herself and hadn't realized it yet.
"Just remember," Elrick said, still keeping his tone even, "I warned you." He saw them approaching before she did and he took a few long strides to put distance between the two of them. Rhynn's eyes were on him and she looked confused at his meaning until suddenly she saw the cloud of birds heading her way. All she could do was stare with her mouth slightly agape in awe. Dozens of doves then landed on and around Rhynn. She was blanketed in feathery bodies landing wherever they could find space, be it on her shoulders or head. She held out her arms in surprise and as many as could fit landed there as well. The rest surrounded her on the ground. A cacophony of "coos" and other bird noises surrounded her and Rhynn just looked amazed and shocked. Elrick smirked at her, seeing the results of a warning that was not heeded. "See what happens when you don't--" he was cut off with Rhynn's laughter. He frowned and cocked his head to the side.
Rhynn's face had brightened up with one of her signature smiles and she was laughing with such delight. "Elrick! Look at them all!" she beamed in his direction though there were so many feathers near her face he wondered if she could even properly see him. "I have a whole army of pigeon friends!" she said merrily and she actually cooed back at them. Elrick smiled warmly at the sight in spite himself; all plans of gloating dissolved. He sighed and shook his head.
"You know what, I'm not even sure why I'm surprised. Of course you would be the one person on all of Ravnica who thinks being mobbed by an army of pigeons is a good thing."
"Aw look, you called them pigeons. I guess I can pay more attention to the differences between lilies from now on," she said and poked her nose into the beak of one of the birds. He had to admit it was a charming sight.
"I will hold you to that," Elrick said and then sighed again. "Now come along Dove. We've got a shop to open. You're new friends can follow for awhile but they are absolutely not allowed inside the shop." Rhynn laughed and stepped around the pigeons on the ground to follow him again. She looked ridiculous but Elrick felt content as they walked on their way to their destination.
#mtg fanfic#fanwalker#mtg fan characters#fanwalker rhynn#fanwalker elrick#sultai dad bant daughter bonding time#tabby writes#sorry if the formatting/editing is weird#i don't have word so copy/paste messed up with the format when i transfer it here#and i only kinda edited xP
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The Nature of Planes
I’ve decided to do more writing during november but with the first of the long stories, i’m cheating on. @take-on-meme ‘s fanwalker Avana is a main character in this along with my Mother nature as we rped most of this then made it read more like a story than an rp. Anyway! This is about 3 times as long as my usual stories so grab a coffee, a mango and take your time.
Avana felt it. Where there once existed a barrier over the world, now there was nothing. She had learned of it long ago, when something within her soul had flared to life amidst a skirmish with the Legion of Dusk. She had glimpsed images of a place entirely unlike Ixalan. Unlike anything she had ever seen. But something had dragged her back, denying passage to the unknown. And now it had vanished.
It would not be easy leaving the other merfolk behind, and part of her did not want to. She had guided them for many years, and there was no way to predict how any of them would react. But the desire to know what lie beyond the confines of Ixalan burned within her. She would name her apprentice the new Shaper of their band; she trusted his leadership. Farewells were given, and though many were saddened, she promised to return, and they had faith that the promise would be kept. She turned into the jungle for one last preparation.
As Avana entered a glade slowly, the pool of water at its heart become visible. The waters were calm, save the gentle splashes where the stream that fed them came and went. She had come here many times to meditate and wished to visit it one more time. A few moments were spent regarding the place, and she knew she was ready. She felt the spark inside, focused her thoughts, and took the first true steps between worlds.
Where Avana found herself was far different than what she knew from Ixalan. The foliage was larger than the beasts of the sun kingdom, dew drops that she could swim in fell from the uppermost canopy and not a soul of a human, merfolk or beast could be found in her surroundings. The only things she knew of was that there was a terrible humidity and a strange buzzing coming from what seemed to be a large mound of earth. She approached with caution, for while the structure interested her, Ixalan's jungles had left her no stranger to all manner of insects. Even if this place was far different from the home she had left, the sound's familiarity kept her on alert. She probed the ground with her shaper senses, hoping it would give her some sense of what lay beneath. Clearly, some form of life was present.
Her magic-infused senses washed across the visible jungle like a calming ocean wave. A chitinous serpent returned the surge from several plants away, several waves that felt like legion rippled back thousands of feet above her from the canopy and the mound before her returned millions of waves from small bugs all wrapped inside of a massive creature she had never found anything like before. A massive being curled up as though it was sleeping but it was more humanoid than the war beasts of empire. A dew drop fell onto the mound and the buzzing began to silence itself. She looked upwards for a moment at the canopy, then returned her attention to the mound in mirrored silence. She had expected perhaps a network of tunnels or chambers, but not what she had discovered. The thing was familiar yet utterly alien to her. As she watched, she felt her legs and hands tense up. She was preparing herself, either to call upon the elements around her in defense, or to flee on foot whatever stirred below.
Before she could finally decide on what to do, the ground trembled before her. Two equally massive arms came from the mound and slowly pushed it off the ground. Overgrown Ivy and moss coated the head of the monster as its uncovered eye met with Avana's. A mischievous smile came across the creature's face as it slowly pushed the remainder of its body off the ground. She stumbled backwards several steps, giving a wide space to the being rising before her. Her gaze slowly drifted upward to its head, her eyes wide with surprise. Part of her tugged at her, told her she should leave immediately. Curiosity, however, disregarded the instinct, and instead possessed her to remain. She steadied herself, straightened her posture, and spoke.
"What are you?" The creature tilted its head in response before giving off an earthshaking yawn. It scratched at fungal growths on the side of its head as a palm sized spider crawled out from the area. It looked around for a few moments before pointing at itself and giving the merfolk a soft chuckle.
"I am both much like you and nothing like you. I walk the planes much like you, but our stories are as different as the seas and the forest. What do you think I am, little one?" The voice was similar to an autumn breeze in an expansive forest. Her voice was more suited to an old woman more than a giant one.
Avana was unsure of how to answer the question. She did not have any experience with anything like this. In fact, the only thing they seemed to have in common was each held knowledge of other worlds.
"An elemental, perhaps? One that has lied dormant for many seasons, long enough to take on new life? Or something more, which my course has not given me the knowledge to describe?" The creature shook its head several times. It grabbed at a nearby leaf and drank from the dew it accumulated. Some of the water poured down her chin and became puddles on her body. Several insects and small animals hopped from her and drank away as she began to speak.
"You are new at this, aren't you little one? I am a giant. Nothing more. I have lived for many seasons and have slept for equally as many. To compare, you are a child where as I am an elder. " She pointed at the clothing Avana wore then scratched her head again. "Where do you come from?"
To be called a child was strange to Avana, as her youth had been a few decades behind her, and she had since taken on a mantle of leadership. Still, she did not think it wise to challenge the statement, and instead answered the giant's question.
"I have traveled to this place from a land called Ixalan." The giant tilted her head back and forth, eventually settling to look over Avana. Her visible eye looked almost like it was glazed over or hardly working. She settled one of her large hands in front of the merfolk, palm up.
"Forgive me for asking but did you become a walker due to your plane being destroyed? It’s a saddening problem in the current state of the multiverse." Her voice became lower, more somber, and more suited to something her size. Avana looked down at the hand beside her, slight unease forming from being so close, then back up to the face of its owner. The next question did not help to calm her.
"We have known chaos and change in recent times, but nothing so monumental that the entire world might shatter. Though you speak of it as a thought it were common occurrence? This has happened to many worlds?"
"The multiverse has countless plans, you could equate it to the number of droplets of water in the ocean. I have lived long enough to see many end and have even joined a group to prevent others from falling. Before your recent events, two have been all but destroyed within the same number of months. Another walker wishes to break down another. The list goes on."
"If two may fall so quickly, then what is to prevent my own from following? My people have taken it upon themselves to protect Ixalan from disaster. What path do I take to uphold this?"
"You have two currently: you can devote yourself to protecting your plane for the rest of your life or you can join the group I work for. We help minimize the damage the planes, assuming we learn of their possible destruction beforehand. Keep this in mind however. If you join us, your plane will be added to the planes we keep a closer eye on and each one of the main members has lost something due to the destruction of a plane. Oh. And to talk of your point of your people. How would they, a group of planebounds, be able to stop someone stronger than I, with armies in the millions from a place they can't reach?" No malice came from her words nor did her tone of voice change. It felt like it was the thousandth time she asked someone of it. Her eyes did not even try to meet Avana's, as though she was ashamed of what she was suggesting.
The revelation put a heavy burden on Avana. She did not believe she would alone could protect the entirety of her home; the River Heralds faced enough challenge guarding the Immortal Sun from the other factions of Ixalan. Still, she knew almost nothing about the giant or the others, and there would be no way of predicting what they would do in their surveillance. Avana stood considering for several minutes, the concern clear in her expression. Finally, she reached a decision, though the trembling in her voice indicated it was no easy choice.
"I choose to join you." The giant gave her a soft half smile and outstretched her hand to Avana again, this time in a posture more suited towards shaking hands. She looked down, chuckled again, and outstretched a single finger.
"I will never make you do anything you would regret, nor will I cause your home turmoil. I swear on my honor that I will be your confidant and guide to this multiverse. What is your name, Little one?"
Avana put her hand to the giant's finger and shook it lightly.
"I am called Avana. And what are you named?"
"My name has long since been lost but my fellow walkers have referred to me as Mother Nature but if you would prefer something else, I will most likely respond to it." She set her hand next to Avana and motioned her eyes to her shoulder. Several insects scampered from the shoulder as she moved about, leaving enough room for someone to rest there.
Avana nodded in understanding and moved onto Mother Nature's hand, positioning herself so that she would not fall. She was still unsure of the situation, but she felt more confident in placing her trust in the giant.
"What would you like to learn of first? I know much but many of the others of my group know more. They are a bit more... feral than I though." Mother began meandering slowly through the underbrush of gargantuan foliage, occasionally offering her new friend some fresh dew or what remained of some poor creature she crushed underfoot. Avana took the offers of dew but politely declined the remains as they traveled.
"I am curious about this land I have found myself in. Life appears all around us, but none takes a form similar to you or I. And there is a great presence of life that I sensed far above us. What exactly hides itself beyond the great cover of leaves?"
"The sun. And the humans who enjoy it. They fear the creatures that live down here and only come down to hunt for food. This plane functions like a dome around the sun. It is an anomaly that I have been learning about for several years now." She attempted to count the time on her fingers but gave up after reaching the low twenties.
"How odd this world appears. And what dwells underneath, amongst us?"
"Insects as large as you, dinosaurs occasionally and carnivorous plants but what I'm looking for is the spot I came in here from."
"Do you have a recollection of the appearance of that place? I may be able to seek it out." Avana’s magic already began to coalesce around her body as she spoke.
"A year to me is the equivalent of a day to you and the growth of this plane is faster than I am tall. I apologize for not using your skills, but I would love to learn more about them." Nature continued her long walk through the foliage, slowly going from a general direction to a time worn animal path.
"When I was a youth, the Shaper of our band chose me as an apprentice and taught me the magic of our people. She taught how to ask the land and sky to lend their strength, and how to feel the greater world around us, beyond the senses. That is how I discovered you in your earthen slumber." The giant chuckled under her breath as her pace slowed, finally reaching a clearing void of any form of life, let alone anything she spoke of before.
"Although I should have explained this before, be careful of who you tell about being a walker and of your magic. I am an outlier amongst my group. I have mastered two forms of magic that assist my survival. Based on your magic, I ask of you to guess one of them." She helped her merfolk guest down to the forest ground before she began pacing around the clearing, chanting some form of incantation. Small bubbles of mana rippled from the ground as she walked by.
Avana concentrated and focused her mind on the ground and the bubbles emerging from beneath it. Although the incantation and the mana coming from it was unfocused, at best, she recognized two things from it. The first was that this is a leyline that is slowly being activated by someone is who is clearly an amateur with this sort of task. The second was that it felt familiar. The mana was, albeit on a larger scale, very similar to the time she planeswalked here.
"I imagine it relates to the host of creatures within you?"
"Correct. I have found a way to keep some creatures alive between multiverse travel. All it cost was dreams and some modifications to my body. I can create swarms of insects or speak to them. My other magic relates to my size." She gestures to the entirety of herself then shrinks down to about half her normal size with a small burst of magic. "Also, can make myself bigger but keeping it up requires more energy."
"I had known of some who could perform similar feats but never had I witnessed such a thing in person."
"Before I take you to somewhere more..." She looked around a bit and motioned Avana to enter the circle, sparks of mana bouncing from edge to edge. "Hospitable. Do you have any questions?"
"Will I meet the others you spoke of?" Avana asked, which caused Nature sighed and looked around.
"In due time. We have one for each color of magic. I represent green and our leader is both the strongest and weakest of us. If you like, I can take you to them right away, but I would suggest we sightsee before that point."
"I trust you to guide me. I am ready." The circle softly crackled as she carefully stepped into it, looking out towards the rest of the overgrown forest she came from.
“Kaladesh.” Mother Nature whispered into one center of the circle. The surroundings of the circle shifted around like that of a kaleidoscope. The leaves of the forest rotten away and reformed in seconds, Light pierced through the skyline, first in strands then in spirals. Mana coalesced in swirls around the circle while visions of massive cities and vehicles with nothing close to what Avana had experienced came across her vision. The surroundings finally stabilized to an equally overgrown forest, yet the foliage was much closer to a size known to Avana.
“Welcome to your third plane, Kaladesh. I know little has changed but here our magic is as rare as a mouse growing to my normal size.”
Avana looked around at her new surroundings, taking everything in. Her eyes traced the swirls carven into the atmosphere, and she took note of the plants which seemed to mirror them. The flora may not have been quite the same in magnitude, but she could tell that life here had a special kind of power. She turned to again look at her new guide.
"Little, and yet so much for one who is like a newborn." she replied, laughing gently at her own expense. Nature joined in the laugher as she meandered around several trees, grasping at branches, and scaring small mammals that lived in those trees.
“That is why I brought you here. Taking you somewhere both close and unfamiliar. A place where you can explore to an extent while still dipping your toes.” She grasped at a yearling’s branch and snapped it off. She motioned Avana to come closer as she pulled off a palm sized red yellow fruit, offering it to her friend.
“The most important part of being a walker of planes is indulging in what each offer. Some, like yours, must offer things unique to it. Be it the beasts that walk those lands or these ‘mangos’.”
Avana happily took the fruit and took a small bite of it, sampling its taste. The fruits juiced coated her taste buds. It was quite sweet in a way that was unique compared to the fruits she knew from Ixalan.
"It tastes quite good, and much different from what I'm used to. Thank you for showing me this place."
Mother Nature nodded to her companion as she tore a second mango in half. One piece she placed on her shoulder and the other she began to eat. Several wasps and large beetles came out from behind her hair, broke of pieces of the offered fruit and took their prizes back to the hive.
“You will meet many walkers, young one. Some will show you nightmares, other will show you the beauty they found in the multiverse. Not all are as kind as I. You should savor moments like these. My group focuses on destruction so much that I worry that it is all they believe will happen. Don’t become like them.” Her tone shifted downward. Her words felt both rehearsed and heartfelt, nearly ingrained into her lips. Once the words left them, she acted as though she said nothing and smiled at her companion while walking towards a new tree.
Avana plucked a mango of her own and stood for a moment while rubbing it in circles. It took a long moment before she began to speak up again.
"I will admit it may be difficult. My people spent the last few centuries diverting outsiders from our home to guard its secrets. We were charged to keep them hidden and avoid disaster by misuse. And that duty I have been taught will certainly carry over to the multitude of other worlds I may encounter. However, this power you and I possess has also granted me a freedom to experience the greater wonders of those worlds. And that is certainly something I will never forsake." The giant paused from her words, slowly turned around, and walked back towards the merfolk. She brought a hand towards her head before freezing up and pulling her hand back with an abnormal wince of pain.
"That is wonderful, Avana. Your devotion is extremely impressive for one who has only begun her journey. Before we meet the rest of my group and this plane, do you have any questions for me?"
"No, I'm sure any curiosities will be answered soon enough." Avana shook her head as she spoke. Her giant companion began walking towards one end of the forest. Avana jogged after her as thoughts of the possibilities on what this plane or even the multiverse could hold. What creatures walked these realms with nothing close to the ones she fought on Ixalan. Were all other walkers as strange as the one she just met? An essay’s worth of questions flooded the back of her mind, but one stayed right at the fore front. Is there a way to make those mangos even more delicious?
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Spark of the Holy Fire
The origin story for my first ever fanwalker! It’s been a long time since I’ve done any fanfic and even longer since I’ve made any OCs. Really that’s a tragedy bc I started writing way back when with a big ol’ batch of PJO OCs that we shant speak of here. Lately though I’ve been doing creative writing again and I felt like I wanted to try this, so here we go!
As the wind passed over her face, Rae knew nothing could feel more right in the world. Moonquill’s muscles moved bellow her, wings flapping to keep them aloft as they glided over the moors. It was a rare treat to go home, to have the opportunity to see her father, to visit her mother’s and sister’s graves. Most of the time her duties as a Cathar kept her away. Now, though, Avacyn’s protections were fully restored and the world had grown calmer, more peaceful.
She cast her mind back to that fateful day, Avacyn rising from the shattered remains of the vault. It had been an honor beyond her wildest dreams to witness that moment first hand, to see their protector return to them at last. For her, as a Cathar, what followed had been a blur of righteous battle and rejoicing in victory as she had never tasted before. No longer were they simply holding evil at bay, now they could seek it out where it tried to hide. Each day after Avacyn returned seemed to want the title of best day of her life more than the last. All paled in comparison, however, to the day she met Moonquill…
---
She had been celebrating another victory with her fellow Cathars, this time over vampires in Nephalia, when it happened. Walking out from the tavern where they’d been drinking all night to return to the church where they were camped. Rae had known they weren’t generally supposed to be drinking like this, they all knew that. But lately, nobody had cared much about enforcing that. It was a time of rejoicing, after all, and few had earned it more than the Cathars who had fought through the darkest of times.
In her stupor, Rae was beginning to consider kissing one of her sisters in arms when, suddenly, her mind cleared. She’d been able to feel magic for years, had gotten a sense of what the movement of mana around her felt like while working with Archmages and priests. The feeling she had now was just like that, except instead of feeling the mana be pulled past her, she began to feel it swirl around her.
Following the flow, she looked up, noting briefly that her comrades had all backed away and begun to stare at her. Above she saw, framed by the moon, a pair of pristine white wings holding aloft the form of a gryff, beautiful and graceful, slowly descending upon the street, upon Rae.
Rae had heard there were flocks of gryffs in the skies again, returning with Avacyn, but it was only now she saw one up close. The stories did not do them justice. The gryff’s feathers and hair were a sparkling, pristine white. Its muscles toned and powerful under its skin, yet its whole form lithe and flexible.
The gryff landed and, with a start, Rae realized that the mana she felt was swirling around them both now, grouping them together. She raised a hand, which she realized was surrounded in an aura of light, and stepped toward the gryff. She couldn’t place why, but she felt drawn forward, like this mana around them created a charge to draw them together. The gryff, for her part, stayed perfectly still as Rae’s hand extended toward her and then jerked back. Rae, uncertain of what she was doing, tried again.
This time she felt mana flow into her, as easy as breathing, filling her with calm and certainty. She placed her hand on the gryff’s muzzle, stroking gently, and it was as if a jolt of lightning passed between them. Rae felt herself, standing there, but she also felt the gryff standing before her as if they were one.
“Moonquill…” she muttered, not knowing where she had found the name, but knowing it was right.
The gryff dipped its head, as if it were nodding, and then seemed to speak in Rae’s mind. Speak, perhaps, was not the best word for it, but Rae could understand Moonquill the same way she understood herself.
Following her next instinct, Rae mounted Moonquill, her fellow Cathars staring up at her, their jaws slack with awe at the sight.
“Everyone,” Rae said, trying to keep from laughing at their faces, feeling Moonquill puff with pride, “Meet Moonquill, she’s a new friend of mine…”
---
Since that day Rae and Moonquill had ridden the skies together, members of the new Cathar order of Gryff Knights. Rae didn’t fully understand it, but that day something the clergy had come to call a Soul Bond had formed between them, as it formed between all Gryff Knights and their mounts. Apparently, it wasn’t unique to Gryff Knights, and had been appearing between all sorts of beings.
Rae didn’t much care for all that, though, she just rode with Moonquill wherever they were needed, acting in perfect sync with one another, as if rider and mount were one. She reveled in that sensation, and she knew Moonquill did too, even if she’d never admit it.
Rae felt Moonquill poking at her through their bond and she snapped out of her reminiscing. Moonquill felt concerned.
“Don’t worry, Quill,” Rae said, patting Moonquill’s flank as they glided along, “Just thinking about the good times. Been nice having some for a change.”
The gryff seemed to understand, as she always did, and they flew on in contented silence, home beginning to show just on the horizon.
---
Rae hit the ground hard, feeling her ribs crack under the impact. As she struggled to regain her breath, she contemplated how idiotic it had been to engage an angel in the air. No matter how skilled the soul-pair, no knight in the order could hope to defeat an angel in single combat like that. Mad or not, an angel was still an angel.
Reaching out through their bond, Rae felt Moonquill. She breathed a sigh of relief, finding her friend alive and still gliding, if in some pain. She called Moonquill to her as she scanned the smoke-filled skies for the angel, trying not to let the complete wrongness of this situation get to her.
Before long she saw her mount emerge through the smoke billowing up from one of the rooves in the village. She felt calm, preparing to perform a low-flying mount as usual. Then, it all went terribly wrong.
Behind Moonquill the angel emerged from the smoke, her blade raised and wreathed in fire. Before Rae could call out, before she could tell Moonquill to get out of there, the blade came down.
Rae would never remember what she saw, only the pain that exploded across her link with Moonquill. It felt as if the flaming sword had been plunged into her neck and left there. Her vision went white, and then, as she realized what must have happened, red. She felt rage like she had never known. All at once the teachings of the church left her mind. There was no place now for mercy, tolerance, and compassion. How could this be the perfect exemplar of those things? How could this monster be what she had always aspired to be like? Every part of her body and soul cried for vengeance, for justice, and for the first time she couldn’t find any difference between them.
The next thing she would remember seeing was her own hands, acting without her thinking, rising to the heavens and igniting in flames. Rae could not tell if the fire was burning her, and she did not care. Acting on pure instinct, she hurled fire at the angel. The angel’s face, which had moments ago been full of glee and lethal intent, now twisted into a very un-angelic expression: fear.
The first wave burned holes in her wings, bringing her to ground. The next began to melt her armor, metal bubbling and leather crumbling to dust. The next found skin, and the angel screamed in pain. Rae didn’t care, she just kept throwing fire until long after the screaming stopped.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, looking at the pile of charred bones and slag metal where there had once been an angel, but eventually she fell to her knees. The flames on her hands spread up her arms and soon engulfed her entire body. Though the flames themselves did not hurt her, she could feel her tears on her cheeks turning to steam almost immediately as she shed them. She looked to the sky, which had begun to open with rain, and felt herself scream as the drops began to steam off of her burning aura.
Then, she felt something in her chest, as if yet more fire were trying to burst forth, and then began to feel her body fade away. Rae imagined she must be starting to burn up in her own flames, too numb to feel the pain anymore. That theory collapsed when, all of a sudden, her flames were snuffed, collapsing back into her hands and then going out, and the dark sky above her was replaced with harsh sunlight.
The first thing she noticed was the lack of clouds. The shock of that alone was almost enough to distract her from the pain she felt, both in her soul and her ribs. Rae has never seen a sky totally free of clouds, and she had never felt sunlight this harsh. She lowered her gaze and continued her descent into what must be madness as she saw a vast, flat landscape of sands and rocky ground stretching to the horizon. Nowhere like this existed in all the known world. Looking to either side, she saw what seemed to be a sort of road extending for miles in either direction, and, to her left, what appeared to be a band of travelers.
Rae pushed herself to her feet, which at this point was as difficult as lifting an entire building on her shoulders. Out of habit, she tried to call for Moonquill, only to collapse again when she felt the crushing emptiness where her friend’s presence should have been.
Seeming to see her fall, two figures ran forward from the band of travelers. They helped Rae to her feet, lifting her between them, and as Rae offered thanks she got her first real look at one of them. The man seemed to be human, but with skin darker than Rae had ever seen in her life. His clothes were more like robes than common garb, but not quite like any robes she’d ever seen either.
“Thank you,” Rae said for what was at least the fifth time, “But where am I? Who are you?”
“We are traders from Femeref,” said the man in an accent which was, much like everything else Rae had seen in the last few minutes, totally unrecognizable, “We’re on the road home across the desert. What happened to you?”
“I,” Rae started to reply but then caught on something the man had said, “Wait, Femeref? Desert? What are you talking about?”
The man Rae had been speaking to exchanged a look with the other man helping her back towards the wagons before saying “Miss, what do you mean? Femeref is our country, here on Jamuraa, this is the desert that it borders. How could you be here and not know this?”
Rae tried to answer but all that emerged from her mouth was a whimper of bewilderment before she finally gave in to the mounting exhaustion and confusion and felt her consciousness slip away…
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For any of your wonderful ocs! 3. Does your character cry, and what would likely make them? 7. What is a random piece of information about your character that you know but have never shared? 12. What are your character’s sleeping habits like? 15. What was your character like when they were younger? What’s something they always used to dream about? 21. How tall is your character? 25. How much of physical and athletic abilities does your character currently have? 29. What existing creature card is your character most likely to be able to summon? 36. What is the most feat thing your character has ever performed? 37. What is their most spectacular failure? 41. Who would be their favorite commander to play, if they played commander? 55. Your character decides to write a book. What kind of book is it, what is it about and what’s the title? 60. Does your character have any quirk of language when they talk? An expression, an accent? 67. What does your character’s magic look like when it’s used? 79. What are the limits to your character’s abilities? 94. Are they more comfortable in cities or in the wilds?
(I'll try to limit to 1 oc for 1 question))
3. Does your character cry, and what would likely make them?
---Eriame rarely cries anymore, but when she does it ends up being a time where she can't save someone from their fate with nightmares.
7. What is a random piece of information about your character that you know but have never shared?
--- During their time on kaldheim, Pyrna and Raninus spent time with Arni Brokenbrow and that's how rani got his "dragonborn" nickname.
12. What are your character’s sleeping habits like?
--- Raninus prefers to curl up in a dog/cat-bed-like futon as since regular beds feels weird and the beds typically have walls.
15. What was your character like when they were younger? What’s something they always used to dream about?
---Volan as a young kid was a boisterous girl: running, jumping and etc. She always swam in the shores near her home town and watched the skies (and the occasional pod) on some days.
21. How tall is your character?
---For Vodania, she sticks to 13'1" or 400cm in her merfolk form.
25. How much of physical and athletic abilities does your character currently have?
---Despite his inactive writer nature, Detlev is rather built for horse riding. But, that's all he really has for physical prowess.
29. What existing creature card is your character most likely to be able to summon?
---- Definitely I know that Eriame would summon so much Angels.
36. What is the most feat thing your character has ever performed?
---Not the best feat, but Pyrna was spotted by Boros in the Gruul territories during the mini raids and saw her just "smite" down cowardly gruul members. This was before she joined the Boros
37. What is their most spectacular failure?
---Humorously, Volan was demonstrating a scene for her students, where she accidentally fucked up a line, attempted to save it by improve, failed that, proceeded to stumble and then due to getting startled, planeswalked to another plane (taking Detlev, who's teaching his own class, with her). The entire college has not forgot about it since.
41. Who would be their favorite commander to play, if they played commander?
---Nekrasa would like to play with Lazav. He's her favorite.
55. Your character decides to write a book. What kind of book is it, what is it about and what’s the title?
---Detlev, the writer he is, always prefer to write murder mysteries dappled with soft moments between the core cast. The titles i have no idea since I'm bad with names
60. Does your character have any quirk of language when they talk? An expression, an accent?
---Raninus has very distinct slavic accent (much like the rest of my ravnican fanwalkers)
67. What does your character’s magic look like when it’s used?
---When it comes to his magic, Raninus' pupils and gullet will glow. The spells themselves are subtle strings of magic.
79. What are the limits to your character’s abilities?
---When it comes to Eriame's mind-control magic and dream magic, she can't affect those who have placed a mental block on their mind as well as those currently being controlled or left mentally broken (IE Emrakul's doing).
94. Are they more comfortable in cities or in the wilds?
---Pyrna, despite being from Kaldheim, enjoys being in cities, so much to do and say that she doesn't need to get bored.
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The first part of the series I am writing for my Fanwalkers. With Que’s background already published, Orin’s will follow shortly after some editing.
To read Que’s story:
https://bark-at-the-moon-moon.tumblr.com/post/167719490963/que-artificer-archer-alone-this-is-the-first
Again, much thanks to @isharton for the awesome art!
Enjoy the story below =D
Ties That Bind - Part 1: A Journey Begins
It had been only a week since the two planeswalkers met, and now they were here land that was foreign to both of them. Though exploring new places was generally the nature of planeswalking, this wasn’t a pleasure walk.
“I never imagined places like this existed,” Orin looked out into the distance, his excitement hidden behind his fur, “I’ve only ever known that forsaken desert.”
“It reminds me of where I grew up,” Que raised a hand to block the sun from his eyes, “I hate it.”
Orin turned on his heel and looked at Que, his one ear twitching.
“Isn’t your home just a bunch of metal and Etheria?”
“Etherium,” Que clicked and walked past at Orin, “It’s called Etherium. And I said where I grew up, not where I live and you happened to planeswalk to.”
“Wait, so you didn’t grow up in that depressing metal crap shoot?”
“No. I was raised in a place called Bant,” one of Que’s back hands flicked for Orin to follow, “And it’s not a crap shoot. Esper is a wonderful place.”
Orin breathed in the fresh mountain air, and let it out in a frustrated huff. His paws slipped and skid in places, but he was slowly catching on how to walk in this new land. The emerald scales on his arm shone in the bright sun. Que continued to press forward, pushing aside branches and foliage. Orin sometimes envied that metal body of his. Not needing to rest or worry about overexertion. Those thoughts were quickly swept away when the idea of what he would lose to get that came up.
“My intel says that around here should be a powerful artifact,” Que stopped and turned his head completely around to face Orin, “But it wasn’t specific as to where around here. I had us planeswalk as close as I could.”
“That’s, um, reassuring,” Orin winced at the sight of Que turning his head in such a fashion. He had only seen zombies be capable of such...feats. Without warning Que turned his head back, making a complete circular rotation of his neck, making a chill slide from Orin’s neck down to his tail. Another supposed bonus of replacing his body with metal meant no bones to break, thought Orin.
“The item is also supposed to be a few feet long and slender.”
“So, like a staff or sword?”
“Or a crystal. Or Rod. Or a multitude of things.”
“Wait,” Orin paused before picking back up pace, “How did you get information on this place without looking here yourself?”
“Oh,” Que said in what could be considered a mixture between and chuckle and a chirp, “I have my means. But let's not waste time on idle chit chat. I’ll search this side, you search that side.”
Dark amber crept over the sky. Orin stared into it’s mesmerizing hues, remembering his home. His family.
“I guess some things are a constant on any plane.” Orin mused, smiling.
“I visited a plane once with five suns,” Que cut in from a few feet away, “There was never a sunrise or sunset. Perpetual noon, if you would.”
Orin’s smile flipped, another moment among many.
“Where you always like this, or did it come with the metallic body?”
“Always like what?” Que pushed some large leaves aside and peeked his head over a bush, staring down at Orin.
“Mechanical, distant, ‘robotic’,” Orin put emphasis on the last word. Que had shown him the thopters and mechanical devices of Esper, taught him of the unfeeling machines that do tasks with utmost efficiency.
“I…” Que seemed to look out into the distance, searching, before pulling back the foliage and letting it cover him from vision. Orin could hear his footsteps walking forward and away. His ears folded back and he lowered his head. His paws moved on their own as he returned to searching.
The two sat in a small cave, a soft glow making their shadows dance along the walls. Orin sipped from his cup of water, looking out to the night sky. Que sat silently next to him, staring into the fire. Crackling wood and the whirls from the breezes filled the night, but no animals responded. They had not spoken since earlier that day, nor had they found the artifact. Orin glanced over at Que, his ears dropping back slowly.
“I’m sorry,” The ainok’s voice cracked, “for earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
There was a long pause, then Que turned to look at Orin. That expressionless face stared at the furred planeswalker, making seconds feel like minutes.
“Do not fret over it,” Que turned up into the night sky, “Sometimes, I don’t think about how others will react before I speak. For someone like me, who has seen much and experienced more than you have yet to experience, mentioning Mirrodin may have been intriguing. That being said, it was insensitive of me to comment in such a way at a moment of remembrance for you. I had forgotten your circumstances. I, owe you the apology.”
Orin turned his gaze away from Que and up to take in the night sky once more. The two looked up as the sparkling dots looked down on them. Neither knew when it happened, but they both dozed off at their own pace, the fire dwindling as the night grew longer.
The sunlight entered the cave just right and danced over Orin’s face. The ainok rolled over and peeked open one eye. He saw the smoldering remains of the fire, dusty walls, and no Que. He propped himself up quickly and looked around. He was alone in the cave.
“Que,” He choked, his voice turning from hoarse due to the dust and smoke to a full on yell, “Que?”
At the opening of the cave, Orin could see dust falling from the top just outside the entrance. He slowly reached a hand out to his sword ,his hand tapped at the ground while his eyes stayed locked on the entrance. Frantically he fumbled until he had no choice but to look. His sword was gone. He shot back to the entrance where now he could see more dust and hear a noise, like scratching. It grew louder and louder as more dust fell. Orin jumped to his feet, readying himself to fight of whatever animal was coming. He had seen several strange creatures on Alara, and knew each plane offered its own dangers. The scratching was close now. Whatever it was had to be just outside the opening. Orin breathed in, then out, and readied himself.
The sun’s light obscured the details of two arms reaching in and latching onto the roof at the entrance of the cave. A moment later the creatures entire body flipped down and into the cave. Orin took a step forward and pulled back a clenched fist, winding up to punch. Before he could even fully register what happened, the cave glowed a bright, blinding teal. Orin froze to see Que just below him, mana bow at the ready, a blue arrow pointed up at to the ainok’s chin. Que was sprawled on the floor like a spider from rolling into the cave from above. Orin could see his sheathed sword in Orin’s free hand.
“I’d rather you not get violent first thing in the morning after screaming my name.” Que mumbled, obviously annoyed.
“I’d appreciate if you didn’t wander off when we are in a new location,” Orin made sure to add emphasis, “And if you wouldn’t take my sword.”
“My apologies,” the mana bow dissipated and Que stood to his full height, offering up the sword, “I went out to try and hunt something for you to eat.”
“ Hunt? With a sword?” Orin snatched the sword and began to secure it back to his side, “you have a bow and arrow that use mana. That you can control.”
“I left much earlier to try with that,” Que expressed what Orin could only say looked like displeasure, “There were unforeseen circumstances. I cannot use my bow unless it is the only option to me. That’s the reason we must get going. Now.”
“What are you talking about? That bow is like, your thing. You can’t really even use a sword. Remember, we tried that training thing before.” Orin scratched behind his ear, barely paying attention.
“No,” Que turned to look out of the cave towards the wilds “You don’t understand. We may be abandoning this quest.”
Orin huffed and pushed his way past Que. His pads felt good on the earth that the sun had heated up. His balance almost faltered as the avian’s hand pulled on his shoulder.
“Look, it’s too early for this nonsense, okay?” Orin yanked his shoulder out of Que’s grasp and walked forward.
“Orin,” Que clicked, “I found out why we haven't seen any wildlife.”
“Oh,” Orin turned on his heel and crossed his arms, “Do tell.”
A large shadow covered the opening of the cave moments before the thud of it landing. The Ainok turned to face the chest of a large beast. His eyes traced up it the creature’s body. Large green and grey malleable plates covered its form, giving way to greyish sinew. It was humanoid, but far from human. Long arms ended in clawed hands. It’s face appeared human, but was covered in the plates making up the lines of the face. Long, thin strands of tentacles hung from its head, some even over its shoulders. The creature looked down at them, and tilted its head to the side like a confused dog.
“Slivers,” Que shuttered.
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Ixalan Adventures: Stranded
Story time again! Another thrilling part in @circlesmadeofglass‘s and my fanwalkers adventures on Ixalan (which I might continue. Asking circles questions while writing this gave me some ideas). I wanted to get a drawing for this, but I kinda got sidetracked with some other things. Maybe later in the week.
Ixalan had been a bit more surprising than Bica, Halona, and Nireta had first anticipated. They had spent the first half of the morning exploring the jungles, collecting various plants and herbs for Bica, and watching the majestic, towering dinosaurs wander the land. They had then spent the second half of the morning running from said dinosaurs after Halona got a little too friendly with a nest of eggs. Halona cut a path back through the jungle, her boar umbra smashing through trees and brush, while Nireta’s song distracted the larger reptiles and Bica’s plant magic scattered the smaller ones. It was a race for their lives full of shattering wood and thundering roars and by the time they broke through the treeline and hit the shore, they were sweaty, hungry, out of breath, but most of all at least finally safe.
All in all, it was just about your average Tuesday for Halona.
“Bica, your beans still safe?” Halona asked, after catching her breath and wiping the sweat from her brow. Bica, still a bit winded, could only give her overfilled bag a light pat and throw up a thumbs up. “Good. You doing good, Blue?”
“Tired,” Nireta said, landing next to the two and ruffling her feathers to shake out the dirt and dust. “You guys wanna call it for today? I think I’m done with this plane for now.”
“I don’t know. Heading home only after one chase? Seems a little lazy to me,” Halona joked.
“Well, my bag is pretty full. How about we meet up tomorrow with a more solid plan? More than just ‘pop in and see what’s happens’?” asked Bica.
“Oh! You want to grab lunch with us then? There’s this place by our apartment-”
“My apartment.”
“-Yeah, our apartment. We should be right on time for their lunch special.”
“Sounds great! Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be right there.”
With that, each member started their walk back home. Ixalan pulled away from Halona as if it were all just paint waiting to be washed away as the blurry image of Nireta’s apartment was revealed underneath. The smells hit her first, the worn pages of Nireta’s vast book collection was combining with the freshly baked breads from a bakery down the road. Then came the noise from the streets down below, filtering in from a window they had left slightly cracked open. For a split second she thought she felt a slight tug grasping at something deep inside her, but it slowed her no more than a spider’s web would stop a baloth.
She was halfway between worlds, when the cries of her friends brought her crashing back to Ixalan. Halona spun to her right, one hand reaching for her machete while the form of a bear spread swiftly from her other hand and up her arm. Nireta was bent over slightly, as if she had stumbled, her wings spread out for balance. Turning to her left, Bica shook her head as she swayed from mysterious vertigo. Ominous glowing runes hovered over the two, bathing them in a golden glow.
Halona rushed to her winged friend’s side, grabbing her shoulders to help steady her when Nireta attempted to planeswalk again. Her form faded and her outline blurred as Halona watched her essence reach out once again towards Ravnica. For a moment, Halona was relieved and let go of Nireta, only to watch her body shift almost violently back to solidity, the glowing rune shining only more brighter.
“I...I can’t...” Nireta sputtered out, eyes locked to the sandy ground.
“Me neither,” Bica said, moving in closer.
There were more words and a voice called out to her, but Halona had spun back around without a word or thought looked out in the mid-distance. She reached out into the world looking for that thread, that tug, she had felt moments ago only to find nothing. She was by no means an elementalist or shaman, but even with what she could spy of the leylines, she couldn’t find anything out of place. No detention spells, no heiromancy, nor anything that would disrupt any form of conjuration. The world was as it had been when they arrived and remained as it was when they had tried to leave. So what was stopping her friends?
The voice was now shouting at her and a second one was trying to play diplomat, but Halona continued to keep her focus elsewhere. She tried walking again, aiming for no world other than out. She inched towards the unknown, slowly moving towards the proverbial half-step into the Blind Eternities until she caught a glimpse of something. Strings pulled taut and hidden gears slowly clicked into place behind the noise of the world and the tug, that infinitesimally small tripwire she had brushed through without a care earlier, appeared. She reached out while she stepped back into the plane, pushing on the trigger before the magic feel back into nothing, and the rune burst into life over her head. She watched it for a second, examining the frozen spell to get a grasp of how it worked.
The voice broke through to Halona this time as a hand dug its fingers into her arm.
“Halona!” Nireta barked, her voice somewhere between anger and determination, but her eyes awash with worry. “What is it?”
She turned towards the spell again to find the right word. Nireta was not one for the mysticism or dramatics of magic and mana like Halona was, but this meant that Halona just had to make a game of finding analogies.
Wall? Flypaper? Funnel? Fish trap-
“Fish trap.”
“What.”
“It’s like a funnel. Fish goes in one big end, but gets stuck at the smaller end because it can’t turn around or its rigged so it can’t swim back through or something. We’re the fish and Ixalan’s the trap.”
Nireta huffed, but at least she got the point. Regaining her composure, she said, “So can you get us out?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can. It’s not like ho-” She caught herself. A memory flashed in her mind, a story and an unspoken bond to its secret between the two. Her eyes flickered towards Bica for moment and she hoped the satyr didn’t catch the misstep. “It’s not like- um- not like its anything special. I just need some time to prep.”
“How much?”
Halona locked onto the space passed the rune, far behind the inner glow and the mystic symbols, towards the underlying magics of the spell and thought of home. The ward around her home, around Balatog, while much stronger than she could comprehend and extremely heavy handed in its purpose, but was quite simple in its design; a ban that kept all out without ever making its presence known. Here, however, there was certain craftsmanship that she could admire. It was less of a wall and more of a trap like she said before, an intricate mix of small locks and tiny triggers that kept the world safe. Therein lied the problem though. There was a subtle depth and complexity to it all and despite her curiosity, Halona was no scholar and this kind of work would take time to decipher.
“Less than you’d think, but more than you’d hope,” she said, letting the golden circle fade into nothing and turning to her companions, “I can get out no problem, but getting making it safe for you guys might need some work. I’d like to stay- just a bit- so I can make sure we don’t end up completely stuck or, you know, dead.”
Bica and Nireta didn’t say anything, only sharing a glance. Halona could already tell what they were thinking. Sure, both of them had lives outside this plane that they’d love to go back to, but making sure their ticket out of here didn’t die helping them was a lot better than being stuck forever.
Bica was the first to speak up, “Well, its not perfect, but at least I’m not gonna be going through this alone.”
Nireta relented with a sigh, “Well if we’re gonna be here a while, we should set up camp. I think I spotted a shipwreck further down the beach against some rocks. I’ll scout ahead to make sure it’s safe.” With a few wing beats she was off, leaving her two friends to watch her fly away.
“...Is she going to be alright?” Bica asked.
“She just needs to blow off some steam. She doesn’t like feeling trapped is all,” Halona reassured, “But we should really catch up, just in case.”
Chin up, guys, Halona thought to herself as the two jogged after Nireta, It’s only maybe a couple of days at worst. What’s the worst that could happen?
#Writing#Halona#Nireta#Bica Aracoff#Admittedly like a lot of the stuff I've written here#the beginning and end are a bit rushed and feel a bit choppy to me
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