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Thread: Planeswalkers

  1. #26
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    "The leonin is right," Rimuel said, freed of Rckaird's spell by a discreet counterspell from Morgana. "That abomination called New Phyrexia is not the plane I come from. Mirrodin exists so long as just one Mirran stands in defiance of those monsters. And last time I checked, I still refused to acknowledge my home as lost for all time."

    "As for your opinion," Morgana said to Claire. "Luck may or may not have touched us all and made us what we are. However, those with power have responsibility to the powerless. You say the best of us are impartial. Perhaps the best of us are those who use this gift to fight tyranny and evil." She considered. "The worst of us on the other hand would indeed be those who used such power to dominate and rule in tyranny. I have met such people before." She recalled the words.

    "Despair to the powerless, and glory to those with the power."

    "This Orochi must have had some motive for his actions," Rimuel considered. "And indeed, perhaps we are the only people capable of discovering just what that was. If it is sinister, then we can put a stop to it." He considered his abilities. His powers weren't normally of summoning. He could perhaps call forth a small group of Mirran soldiers if he were to put his mind to it, and bring forth his memories of the comrades with whom he had fought New Phyrexia. But it seemed cruel to bring forth images of his dead comrades, merely to serve him in battle. That was why he had never done so. His power was of cleansing, of destruction and purification. Fire and light, searing away shadow and blackness.

    "Either way, as much as we don't agree with the archon's ideals nor his methods," Morgana said. "He is at least right about one thing. If we intend to chase down this Orochi, we cannot do so if we're at each others' throats every few minutes. I suggest we at least try to get along if we're going to work together." She paused. "If that is sorted, then we might want to consider some starting points. Places we can go and look for answers or clues."
    Last edited by storymasterb; 14th April 2012 at 1:14 AM.
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  2. #27
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    Before Gibrael could even hope to soothe the situation, Gshir pounced on him. Or tried to, at least. The sheer size of this beast alone was not enough to break Gibrael's pre-established shields, though it did strain them considerably. While others took to fight to Rckaird and escalated this conflict to heights Gibrael did not antecipate, the priest himself got wrapped in a struggle of shield versus huge, ferocious beast.

    For a moment, he though about extending spikes or blades from the surface of the shield (his usual tactic when in such a position) but refused to, unwilling to instigate yet more hostility. He just waited untill the beast calmed down and backed off to his master. Which happened shortly before Claire began playing around with Rckaird, throwing him between two giant, stone hands she'd made herself.

    The amount of stamina and power Claire continued to show humbled Gibrael, and actually humiliated Yuu a bit further. It made her feel weak, powerless... Her desire for power grew tremendously.

    Just then, Jareth brought something up that caught Gibrael's interest:

    "Inhabitants with no will of their own, forced by violence to convert, skinned alive and flesh rendered into the monstrosity that is New Phyrexia," Jareth explained.

    "What manner of hell is this New Phyrexia? Do you not exagerate? Are such acts really being played out?" Gibrael spoke out, shocked at the idea of such an evil plane. A world such as that sounded much worse than Innistrad, and surely needed his aid that much more.

    Yuu, on the other hand, paid no mind to Rckaird's silly high and mightyness, nor to the tales of new Phyrexia (she'd swear she'd been there for a day or two anyway, but she couldn't exactly recall.) She just wanted, pure and simply, revenge.

    "You mean to tell me some snake tribe actually had the audacity of attacking my clan's dragon? I WILL RIP HIS SCALES OFF ONE BY ONE AND MAKE A SOUP OF HIS ENTRAILS!"

  3. #28
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    "What manner of hell is this New Phyrexia? Do you not exagerate? Are such acts really being played out?" Gibrael spoke out, shocked at the idea of such an evil plane. A world such as that sounded much worse than Innistrad, and surely needed his aid that much more.
    "He doesn't exagerate," Rimuel said quietly. "My home, Mirrodin, was a plane of great beauty and wonder. Beings of metal and flesh, united in their own balance. It was a harsh place, true, but a great one." His expression darkened. "And then they came. Phyrexians. Nightmares crawling from the depths, killing, conquering. They took the people and creatures of Mirrodin and flayed them, tearing away flesh and making them into monsters. I and my comrades fought Phyrexia, but with every passing day we lost more and more. In the end... we couldn't prevail. The Phyrexians dominated my home and made it a nightmarish mockery of its former glory. Horrors of flesh and metal shambling through the plains and forests, soaring in the skies. Twisted experiments performed by their scientists, nightmare predators created by their engineering. And their black oil, which corrupts all it touches."

    "I have heard of the Phyrexians," Morgana said. "They despise flesh, and worship machines. To that end those who follow the twisted ideals of Phyrexia flay their flesh and replace it with metal. Until that's left is a merciless machine designed to inflict pain and kill. They," she gestured to Jareth and Rimuel, "do not exagerate, cleric. I have been to Mirrodin recently, and I fought alongside the surviving Mirrans. New Phyrexia exists, and it is as nightmarish as Rimuel says." She paused. "But if you would go there with the intention of healing, you're a fool. The Phyrexians don't merely flay one's flesh and replace it with metal. They corrupt the mind and twist it to their purposes, breaking you until all you are is a cog in their machine, dedicated to the 'glory' of Phyrexia. You will find no Phyrexian who accepts your healing. To them, their condition is a blessing."

    "The only way to bring salvation to New Phyrexia is to purge it utterly," Rimuel muttered. "That is my dream. To see that twisted nightmare burned to ruin and obliterated. For every last one of my fellow Mirrans who Phyrexia twisted and corrupted to know the peace of death. And for Mirrodin to be as it once was."
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  4. #29
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    OOC: Whew, go to a con for a weekend and end up thrown completely off. Permit me then to try this again.

    Kingdom of Madara, Ruined Village

    Thamien finally found the trading post he was looking for, the ruins of a long destroyed village were the perfect place to hide a trading post catered for the Hands of Bolas that passed in and out of the Talon Gates. He was pushed aside during the wurm fight and he figured he'd have some time while they fought amongst themselves to get his primary task on Dominaria finished. The seemingly empty building was full of life when he stepped through its threshold. As he stood in front of the front desk, he placed a sack of coins in front of the man seated at it.

    "I'd like this converted to Ravnican, please." The Human looked inside the sack wide-eyed. "I have the feeling I'll be doing quite a bit of traveling."

    "One moment, sir." The man left his desk, heading toward a vault in the back of the building. A few moments later, he emerged from the vault carrying another sack full of gold coins. This one seemed much smaller than the one Thamien gave him. Thamien looked inside, and was not pleased.

    "Hey! This is half the exchange rate!"

    "Handling fees. Don't like it, there's the door."

    "You didn't even look in the sack or weigh it."

    "Fine, fine." The man took the sack back to the vault and a few moments later returned with a larger sack. It still wasn't perfect, but he was willing to accept the amount.

    "Thank you." Thamien picked up and left, dropping a pair of Dominarian coins on the desk.

    Kingdom of Madara, Talon Gates

    When Thamien returned, things seemed a bit more civil. Conversation had shifted from arguing about each other's fighting styles to figuring out who attacked them. He overheard the word Orochi leave the lips of the other walkers. Thamien was not aware of any member of the Kamigawan Snakefolk being a Planeswalker, but their wisdom and agility would make them an annoying enemy. One thought couldn't escape his mind, if a gathering of Planeswalkers garnered this level of attention, someone was afraid. They may be in a position of strength, something he thought he could exploit. He overheard a conversation, something about New Phyrexia.

    "The only way to bring salvation to New Phyrexia is to purge it utterly," Rimuel muttered. "That is my dream. To see that twisted nightmare burned to ruin and obliterated. For every last one of my fellow Mirrans who Phyrexia twisted and corrupted to know the peace of death. And for Mirrodin to be as it once was."
    "You'd best give up on that dream," Thamien called out. "Mirrodin is lost, a blight on the Multiverse. The only way to end Phyrexian corruption is to destroy the plane down to the last scrap of ichor-infested metal. It will never be as it once was, Phyrexia scars too deep."
    Last edited by Gentleman Skeleton; 16th April 2012 at 7:17 PM.
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  5. #30
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    "You'd best give up on that dream," Thamien called out. "Mirrodin is lost, a blight on the Multiverse. The only way to end Phyrexian corruption is to destroy the plane down to the last scrap of ichor-infested metal. It will never be as it once was, Phyrexia scars too deep."
    "Mirrodin is not the blight," Rimuel snapped in retort. "Phyrexia is the blight. And any sickness can be cured. One day, I will return to my home at the head of an army, and I will see New Phyrexia destroyed. All I need is the magic, or relic which can bring those allies to Mirrodin with me. Once I have that, I will assemble the worlds against the corruption... and then, with their power, I'll obliterate Phyrexia. I'll see that nightmare burn, and then I'll cleanse every last remnant of it from Mirrodin." He paused. "And then... with my people, I'll raise a new Mirrodin from the ashes, as beautiful and free as it once was."

    Morgana looked at him. Perhaps it was understandable. But his dream was a hopeless one. She had heard nothing of any bridge between Planes besides the power of a Planeswalker. His quest was a mere dream, but at the same time, she could perhaps understand his burning desire.

    "Perhaps one day when Mirrodin's suns shine on the grass and my people can once more walk free, I will find you and invite you to visit my home," Rimuel continued. "Just to show you how wrong you are. To show you that Phyrexia can be cleansed and Mirrodin healed."

    "You fool," Morgana murmured. And yet, she couldn't help but consider, what if there were some way to achieve his dream? Having witnessed the horror of New Phyrexia, she would not weep to see it gone, indeed, if he found some way to bring the force of the planes crashing upon Phyrexia, she would stand with Rimuel.

    Rimuel looked at the half-elf. "I have hope that my home can be saved. As long as I have that, I won't stop until I find a way to destroy New Phyrexia and free Mirrodin."
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  6. #31
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    Talon Gates
    Madra
    Dominaria

    "You'd best give up on that dream," Thamien called out. "Mirrodin is lost, a blight on the Multiverse. The only way to end Phyrexian corruption is to destroy the plane down to the last scrap of ichor-infested metal. It will never be as it once was, Phyrexia scars too deep.”
    This attitude was something Gibrael could not condone. Fatalism? Lazyness? Failing to use the powers he possesses to change the wrongs only one such as he could fight?

    “Unforgivable!” he shouted as he launched a blast of light Thamien’s way. He charged his beliefs and his anger in that light, planning on Thamien feeling what he felt the moment he cast it.

    “Nothing, NOTHING, is done by giving up, and under no circumstances will I approve of such a creed! The Gods have given us life and power at a great burden, there are few sins greater than not honouring their sacrifice!”

    With every word, Gibrael’s robe shone brighter, radiating white mana through the sand. Each pulse of energy spread his aura wider and wider, until everyone present could feel themselves being invaded by Gibrael’s feelings. In theory, this would do nothing but make them more reasonable to his cause, but such an indirect charge of his idealism would barely nudge the opinions of weak willed individuals. Strong willed individuals, particularly so Planeswalkers, should be harder to convince.

    "Mirrodin is not the blight," Rimuel snapped in retort. "Phyrexia is the blight. And any sickness can be cured. One day, I will return to my home at the head of an army, and I will see New Phyrexia destroyed. All I need is the magic, or relic which can bring those allies to Mirrodin with me. Once I have that, I will assemble the worlds against the corruption... and then, with their power, I'll obliterate Phyrexia. I'll see that nightmare burn, and then I'll cleanse every last remnant of it from Mirrodin." He paused. "And then... with my people, I'll raise a new Mirrodin from the ashes, as beautiful and free as it once was."

    "I have hope that my home can be saved. As long as I have that, I won't stop until I find a way to destroy New Phyrexia and free Mirrodin."
    “And when that army marches, my friend,” Gabriel took a leap of faith, hoping he’d garnished Rimuel’s trust with his earlier interest in his plane’s dire, and put an understanding hand on his metallic shoulder. “You will have me riding right beside you.”

    “As for you,” he threatened, looking directly in the half elf’s eyes. “You would do well to grow up and leave your egocentric view of reality.”

  7. #32
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    Jareth sprang forward with a roar. He grabbed Gibrael by the back of his head and pushed him to the ground. He turned a snarling eye towards Rckaird as well.

    "I've had enough with the rampant subjugation of free will some of you seem to be showing," he snarled. He glared down at Gibrael. "For all your woeful cries, what you two do is no different from the actions of the Phyreixans." Jareth stepped back and let Gibrael rise. He'd made sure not to hit him hard, just enough to stun him and surprise him.

    "The decision to use or not use one's power is made at the discretion of the one with the power. There is no fault in choosing not to use it," he continued. He turned to the group. "The no inherent responsibility of the powerful to use their power in a way you see fit."

    "So the beast finally bares his fangs," Lance said with a smirk. He crossed his arms and walked over to Rimuel, patting the semi-metal man on the shoulder. "Don't be so hard on the demi-elf. He only referred to it as 'Mirrodin' so as not to upset yours and the leonin's delicate sensibilities." He left Rimuel and looked out over the water, towards the Talon Gates, then back inland.

    "Truth be told, however, he's right," Lance continued, glancing over his shoulder. "There's not much hope for your former-Mirrodin. Unless you plan on violently and surgically un-grafting every being that has been compleated, and bleeding them of all the glistening oil that pumps through their bodies. And then of course you need to cut away all of New Phyrexia--I'm sorry--Mirrodin itself that has been infected. I'm not sure you have the surgical skill for that."

    Lance chuckled and shook his head, full of condescension and pity and all the haughty arrogance of an angel-turned-Planeswalker. "No, what you'd end up doing is opening doorways for the Phyrexians to other planes and other worlds for them to spread their infection. And they will then invade the Multiverse as they tried to do here hundreds of years ago." He motioned to the expanse of Dominarian sky.

    "You seem to know an awful lot about Phyrexia and this plane," Claire said, hand on her hip. She cocked her head to the side. She'd only seen the plane as Mirrodin, before the taint of Phyrexia had built to noticeable levels. It had actually been one of her favorite mining grounds; it was a world rich in artifacts and artifice, and she was always eager to find a new and useful trinket or bauble to bring back to the Izzet League.

    Lance smirked at her display, finding it quite...enticing. "I make it my business to know things," he said. "Especially useful things about possibly dangerous things. And--not to speak to highly of myself--I always have a plan to deal with them."

    "You have a plan to deal with New Phyrexia?" Jareth rumbled disbelievingly. He raised an eyebrow and stared down at the shorter man.

    "It's still in the preliminary stages," Lance said, smirking (as usual). He cracked his knuckles. "But yes. I do. Throughout my travels I've discovered many things that require contingency plans. New Phyrexia being one of them."

    "Care to share?" Jareth asked...rather forcefully.

    "Oh, that would be a bit premature," Lance answered, waving him off dismissively. "And I doubt most of you have the stomach for it anyway." He glanced at Yuu from the corner of his eye. He remembered her display from earlier. "Well. Some of you might."

    "You can call yourself whatever you want.
    Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
    At our core we're all the same thing.
    Monsters."

  8. #33
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    "I accept that to destroy New Phyrexia, I will have to sacrifice those the Phyrexians have compleated," Rimuel said. "That is the only salvation I can give them, I know that. As for cleansing the infection... I'll find a way. There must be a way to cleanse the places they have corrupted." Truth be told, he didn't like Lance's manner, all the pity and condescension. He didn't need pity. He was done with that.

    "As for opening doorways for those nightmares to march through..." he shook his head. "I won't leave any alive to escape. They'll die first." He paused. "Though should you have some plan for dealing with New Phyrexia, perhaps you could share it with me so I know what you might do to my home plane?" He paused, realizing he was unaware of most of the names of his fellow Planeswalkers. "Also, who are you? All of you? If we might be travelling together for some time, it would be good for us to know one anothers' names."

    Morgana was silent, out of focus. She clung to the edges of the group, examining the other Planeswalkers. Rckaird, cold, overbearing, fanatical in a dangerously chill way. Gibrael, naive, idealistic, holier-than-thou. Yuu, vicious, destructive and dangerous. Thamien, tricky, strange, and different. Lance, arrogant, condescending, and mysterious. Claire, fiery, aggressive and reckless. Jareth, calm, independent and seemingly wise. And Rimuel, noble, passionate and idealistic. They were a varied group, and judging by their interactions already, there were more than a few conflicting views and ideals. Still, if they were going to hunt down this mysterious Orochi, they would have to get along as best they could. It would be necessary.

    She stood in silence, listening to the conversation and pondering.
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  9. #34
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    Lance shook his head and rolled his eyes. "'Salvation,' you say. What salvation is there for those who don't want to be saved?" he asked mockingly. "The New Phyrexians are very happy with compleation. The whole plane is corrupted, down to its very foundations. Rumor has it that even the Planeswalker who created Mirrodin was not spared. That he himself spawned the New Phyrexians." Lance listened to the annoyed hiss of the Passenger, shivering up his spine. Too much talking, too much banter; not enough interest in these little mice. He'd stifle the pull of his other for now. There was something just so...amusing in playing with the little mice.

    "The only way to 'cleanse' New Phyrexia, as you put it, is to...well...leave no trace of it behind," Lance lost his smirk, but his eyes danced with shadow and the hunger of the Passenger as it craned its metaphorical neck to lend its metaphorical ear to the new twist in the conversation. "Raze an entire plane, Auriok? Would you do that? Slaughter millions? What a tremendous monster you would become then. A legend across the multiverse: the man who kills worlds."

    He felt the shiver of his Dark Passenger, the twist of delight that flooded through at the thought. "But be wary. All it takes is one drop of that Glistening Oil--carried on the underside of your boot, or a crinkle in your robes, or the edge of your blade--and it all begins again." He let out a chuckle, reluctant admiration for the persistence of the Phyrexians. "And the wakes you leave as you transport your armies to and from their world-razing task weaken the barriers between the planes. At best you damn one world. At worst, you consign the entire multiverse to a New Phyrexian fate."

    Lance sighed. "Not very many good options. You should really find out more about your enemy before making grand soliloquies and impossible promises," he said.

    "Though should you have some plan for dealing with New Phyrexia, perhaps you could share it with me so I know what you might do to my home plane?"
    "It's not your home or your plane anymore though, is it?" Lance said, all traces of smirk gone. He shook his head and the smirk returned. "As I said before, divulging the preliminaries would be premature." He felt the Passenger shift and chuckle behind his eyes. "Suffice to say, I'll do what needs to be done to protect my interests." He glanced over to Rckaird and chuckled. "Or the 'Greater Good,' whichever helps you sleep at night."

    "I am Jareth Wildsoul," the leonin introduced, humoring Rimuel's request and hoping to help steer the conversation from further unsavory topics...though he didn't hold out much hope. "Of Alara."

    "Claire Mizzet," the pyromancer said with a resigned sigh and roll of her eyes. No reason, it seemed, to foster any further hostilities. He did try to help her, after all. "Of Zendikar, Ravnica, and Lorwyn."

    "Can't choose one?" Lance quipped.

    "Don't have to," Claire shot back with a playful smirk.

    Lance chuckled and turned to Rimuel. "Lance, Fist of Goldnight, Herald of War, and so-on and so-forth." He waved his hand and mock-bowed, acknowledging full-well the ridiculousness. "Of Innistrad."

    "Never would've guessed," Claire said dryly, with a smirk to match Lance's.

    "You can call yourself whatever you want.
    Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
    At our core we're all the same thing.
    Monsters."

  10. #35
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    OOC: Really quick post, because I probably won’t be able to post later today. Sorry this is rushed. And God the swear filter. I abused it.

    --

    Dominaria
    Madra, The Talon Gates

    Rckaird was lying on his back, pondering the words of the woman and only partially listening to the conversation going on. He was truly baffled over the ignorance of everyone he had heard speak. The woman’s ramblings about “owning her” made not a single speck of sense. He did not try to own her – how conceited would one need be to think he was reprimanding her for a perverted reason such as that? But he had already established her naivety and mental instability – that was the exact reason he needed to render her unable to hurt anyone else. But the words of the others, particularly the lion he had held some respect for just some minutes prior surprised him. The man spoke of free will like his actions would have been a danger to it, but the archon saw no connection between calming a raging rebel and respecting one’s ability to make their own choices. Having the ability to choose did not excuse completely disregarding others and the good of everyone.

    He rose to stand, once more not really listening to what was being talked about. From what he gathered, they talked about Mirrodin. Ah. He had been there a few times in his quest to bring order all over the Multiverse. He had not stayed for long, but he knew the crimes committed by the Phyrexians. They were in need of punishment as well. While they did bring order in a way, it was not their right to do so. Rckaird looked at the Mirran man who had attacked him earlier, content. It seemed he wasn’t out to attack him anymore, so either his magic had worked or he had come to his senses on his own. He could appreciate that. Meanwhile, the woman…

    He raised his hand very slightly, his hood turned to her, ready to attack. But for some reason she seemed calm now, and for a while Rckaird pondered if he needed to attack her at all. That doubt was quickly dispersed however. Yes, he did need to; she might've seemed calm now, but who knows what would happen should she be allowed to walk around without proper cleansing. He needed to make sure she was calm and would remain that way. He was just about to form another offensive spell when all of a sudden, he caught sight of the priest attacking another member of their group, merely for his words. Unbelievable. He had truly strayed from the righteous path. The lionin interfered, and for a while Rckaird forgot about the woman in favor of walking towards the man now lying on the sand. He stopped in front of him and looked down on him from above with mild disgust. The man had used his powers, he had used white mana to try and control not only an innocent individual, but himself as well; he could feel disturbance, though only a very slight one, in the flow of his white mana. The insolence! This man was the one bending free will and for no reason at all. While he found the necromancer suspicious, his words did not warrant a cruel act like that. And even if it had, punishing him was not the job of a lowly priest.

    “Know your place,” Rckaird’s voice rumbled as he reached for the hilt of his sword. Yes, his sword, weapon meant for killing, not for cleansing like his trident. The priest had attacked an innocent. That was worse than what the woman had done. He laid his hand on the hilt and continued, voice strict and cold: “It is not for a priest such as you to deliver punishment.”

    He drew his sword partway from its hilt, and the second the blade came into view, light burst forward. Pulsating, burning light that wrapped around the archon and then shot forwards into the face of the priest, targeting his eyes.

    “Perhaps in order to see clearly, to understand what it is that you serve…” He spoke from the midst of the light, not a single piece of armor visible as he sought to drill the light in the man's eyes. “You need see how blind you are first.”

    Elsewhere, Thayshia stood with her arms crossed, the tips of her wings slightly aflame as she tapper her foot on the sand and observed. Annoyance shone from her petite features, and had anyone stood close enough, they would have heard her muttering to herself, irritated. For a while now, she had decided what to do about the fight. She wanted in; her blood burned to take part in that display of power. Standing around was getting pretty damn boring, and she was pissed anyway. Fighting always helped her let out some steam. Not to mention she could show those two arrogant bastards what real power was. There was but one problem…

    She wasn’t really sure which one she should singe first. She couldn’t decide which one she hated more; the prick or the skank. Thayshia weighed her options but as she did, she involuntary overheard all the talk about Mirrodin or new Phyrexia or whatever. Seemed like one of the people was there (as if that much hadn’t been clear from his appearance from the start) and was bent on saving his home. Respectable goal, but… it pissed her off. The way he talked about it, he sounded like a kid wishing great fortune when he grew up without actually doing anything. And many of the others seemed to be flat out telling him it was impossible, at least that’s she gathered from listening to part of it. At the moment, the conversation going on pissed her off more than the quarreling duo. So she took flight and flew there, just in time to hear him ask their names.

    She flew closer and turned to the people who had spoke of Mirrodin as if it was unsalvageable. For the record, she didn’t particularly care whether it was or not – but hearing people shoot down someone’s goal like that…

    “Geez, thanks for your definitely non-warranted input! I’m sure everyone’s feelin’ a lot smarter now,” She breathed, “Now if you’re done, I suggest shoveling the shit that came from your mouth back up your ass and backing off. Guy wants to save his home, what’s it to you? Nobody fucking cares if you think it’s useless. It’s a lot more useful than giving up without trying and throwing around fucking PITY like you’re all high and mighty and your opinion the absolute truth. Seriously, pull those sticks from your ass and try fighting with them once, you might actually be of some use somewhere!”

    With that she turned to Rimuel and crossed her arms. “And as for you. You’ve got a dream to save your home? Great. Then what the everloving fuck are you doing here now? Go do something to reach that goal! Dreaming about it ain’t gonna change anything. ACT. You said you’d bring back an army with you? Then go fetch that army. Or hell, even better, become so strong YOU will be that army! Just do something. God it pisses me off when an adult man daydreams!” She pointed at her wings which now completely ablaze. “You know why my wings’re like that? You know why I’m not pretty and sparkly? I’m from Jund. Yeah, there are Fae in Jund. Well, were. Guess what they dreamed about? Being able to live there freely, without the fear of goblins and other such creatures three times bigger than the most of them. Yeah, they dreamed about it all day long and guess what? They’re dead now. All of them, while I’m here all alive and well. Know why? I didn’t settle to just dreaming.”

    She calmed down a bit, but still eyed the man intensely, wings burning. “If you’re serious about this, then get serious. Show everyone. Show those arrogant little assholes.” She turned around, arms still crossed. “If you do, I might even allow you to hire me for help.” Then she recalled he had asked for names. Well, ask and ye shall receive... She turned to glance behind her back at the man, a self-confident grin in place. "I'm Thayshia by the way. The great shaman Thayshia. Better not forget that or I'll sear the skin off your ass!"
    Last edited by GoldenHouou; 18th April 2012 at 7:24 AM.
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  11. #36
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    The blast of white mana filled Thamien's head with the emotions of the spell's caster. Anger, conviction, a naive sense of justice. "Your bull-headed sense of justice will only lead to you getting yourself killed, and then what? I pride myself in knowing the final moments of the dead, so many of them felt the same way you do. Word of advice, selflessness and selfishness are cut from the same cloth. Fate suffers the same punishment to those who try to save a nation and those who try to destroy it. You can't swim against fate's current, but you can learn to get where you need to go by navigating its channels." Thamien removed his hat and brushed his hair with a switch-blade comb. "Might as well introduce myself. You can call me Thamien Holimion. I am the head of the Holimion crime syndicate on the plane of Cooperville. I am also one of the most skilled inter-planar couriers traversing the aether, and a pretty damn good necromancer to boot."

    Thamien's attention turned to the rest of the group. "You mentioned our attacker was an Orochi, correct? Might I then propose a trip to Kamigawa? There are snakefolk on several planes, some even on my home plane of Cooperville, but there they are most populous and we might be able to find some clues. Jukai Forest would be a great place to start, but I also have a contact in Minamo. If there's an Orochi Planeswalker, we'll know about it."
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  12. #37
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    Talon Gates
    Madra
    Dominaria

    Before he could do much of anything, Gibrael felt a powerful force shove him face first into the ground. Judging by how powerful the blow was (he felt himself being shoved near effortlessly) he imagined this was the work of one of the oversized lions. Probably the quadruped one looking for some payback.

    It came as a huge surprise to him when he saw it was Jareth who’d done it. The lion, one of the more respectable and level headed of the group, also reprimanded him, calling him out for obstructing one’s free will.

    “Free will? Free will?! I would compromise no such thing! I am acting in accordance with it, I am preserving it! It is because people like me become the leash to hold evil and irresponsibility at bay that society has a whole is afforded the liberties they know! If there were no subjugators, it would only be so there was nothing to subjugate!

    “You say I attacked him? I did no such thing! Do you see a wound in his body? The same light I blasted him was spread all over this beach. It has touched you! Did you feel your body come to harm? I only made my feelings tangible, so that even thickheads could not dismiss them!”

    He sat up mid speech. Truth be told, maybe he did get a little too riled up; most who knew him would see the change in his normal attitude reflecting right down to his language. But these people were simply unbearable! How many of them closed their eyes and let such big issues go unchecked? At least some seemed to reflect his philosophy, if with different methods. Like the Archon; he’d seen how Claire’s irresponsibility could prove too dangerous to be left unchecked. It was a shame his “checking” apparently meant killing her; if it wasn’t for that rather extreme approach Gibrael would have supported him. The Archon, he...

    He was standing right over him, slowly unsheathing his sword.

    “Know your place.”
    ‘W-what?’

    Gibrael looked right at the abysmal darkness under that unsettling hood, confused and unsure of what to think. When Rckaird’s blade began to shine in a light as powerful, or more so, than his own, Gibrael panicked.

    ‘What are you talking about? I’m doing the right thing! I’m punishing the wicked! You, of all people here, should understand me! Do you not share my wisdom? Are you not a sacred creature of the Gods?’

    Gibrael shivered uncontrollably. He felt something terrifying overtake him... a painful memory. He felt like he was a young, innocent, powerless boy hiding in his barn, terrified at the incomprehensible destruction unfolding right in his eyes. Under the burning roof of the barn, blanketed by dried wheat, hidden behind the flames and smoke, he saw as his parents and his village burned. At one point, two ugly, foul smelling men dragged a near-dying woman he knew just barely and... did disgusting, foul, unmentionable things to her. Things he did not understand...

    He did not understand this either. He could not wrap his head around the reason why... why a holy being would punish a priest for shepherding his flock.

    “It is not for a priest such as you to deliver punishment.”
    “If it’s not up to me...”

    A thought overtook him. A new idea. A new philosophy.

    “IT’S NOT UP TO ANYONE!”

    Gibrael shouted his heresy from the midst of the all-engulfing light swallowing him. His own light was not enough to save him now, so he called on something more. The Dawn Elemental inside him stirred, and he released it.

    “AND THIS WORLD WILL NOT GO UNJUDGED!”

    Yet in his own form, but wielding close to his full power, Gibrael deflected the light and flew upwards. He stared down Rckaird as he shone in a light as bright and pure as the archon’s. This time, he was the one looking on disdainfully from above.

    He’d made up his mind.
    The archon is not who he claims to be.

    Gibrael slowly descended. He landed beside Thaysha just as the pixie finished her speech.

    “Leaving aside the choice of words, she is right. You, elf... Never give up, and never use your powerlessness as an excuse to succumb to dark urges and vices! We have the power to do something, remember it!”

    He took a step closer to the fairy and gave her a smile, simple and happy.
    “I think this one is the most wise of us all.”

    Go figure.

    “I tire of this infighting. My name is Gibrael Vons, and I hail from this very plane. From a continent far from the one we stand on, if you must know.”

    He took a moment before proceeding. He wanted everyone’s spirit to calm down; everyone was too jumpy and irrational. Well, except for that angel over there, but he seemed like an odd one from the moment he arrived.

    “So, does anyone have anything they feel like sharing? Anything at all?”


    "I suppose I might as well. I'm Tsukiko Yuu, from Kamigawa. Now are we going to go after the guy who just humiliated us or what?"

  13. #38
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    “Geez, thanks for your definitely non-warranted input! I’m sure everyone’s feelin’ a lot smarter now,” She breathed, “Now if you’re done, I suggest shoveling the shit that came from your mouth back up your ass and backing off. Guy wants to save his home, what’s it to you? Nobody fucking cares if you think it’s useless. It’s a lot more useful than giving up without trying and throwing around fucking PITY like you’re all high and mighty and your opinion the absolute truth. Seriously, pull those sticks from your ass and try fighting with them once, you might actually be of some use somewhere!”
    "I can't say much for fighting with sticks, but it would seem there are far more effective options. But I think that has been demonstrated quite clearly. Wouldn't you agree?" Lance said, eying Thay's little staff. "As for what his plan is to me? When said plan involves the weakening and dissolving of the barriers that keep New Phyrexia so nicely contained to a single plane, his plan should be of great concern to everyone."


    Claire couldn't help but agree with him. But then the confrontation between Rckaird and Gibrael escalated, the two took on their glowing forms and howled holier-than-though slogans at one another. Idiots. They were arguing the same thing.

    "Maybe the priest is an idiot," Claire snapped, glaring at Rckaird now that things had calmed slightly. "And you won't hear an argument from me; it's definitely not his place to punish anyone. But in your own words, it is not for an empty shell such as you to deliver justice and judgment." Claire crossed her arms and frowned. "You're both the same. I've known people like you all my life. All-too willing to forcefully impose your own sense of morality and superiority onto anyone who disagrees. All-too willing to take up the mantle of judge, jury, and executioner. Tyrants." She looked at Rckaird, then to Gibrael. "And Zealots. Blind to anything else but your own twistedness."

    "If we could perhaps move on," Jareth said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He'd since given up any hope of trying to resolve the tension between the two fanatics. "There's the matter of this 'walker to attend to." He looked out toward the Talon Gates. "Perhaps we begin with Kamigawa, though I do not know how likely it would be he returned there. He was well-traveled, with knowledge of Zendikar and Mirrodin's inhabitants, and quite well-versed in power. He was able to bridge the Blind Eternities and transport a tribe of surrakar here." He looked over to Rimuel. It was exactly what the Mirran had been describing. "Those were not summoned beasts. They escaped rather than dissipated."

    "So where to look?" Claire wondered, her brow furrowing. "Zendikar? Kamigawa? Mirrodin?" She wasn't eager to go back to Zendikar, not with the Eldrazi running rampant; or Mirrodin-turned-New Phyrexia, which had its own recently-discussed issues.

    "Maybe none of the above?" Lance offered, stepping forward. Gone was the smirk and the arrogance. Just cold, calculating eyes.

    "So where? You think he went to Alara or Ravnica maybe?" Claire wondered. It had been a while since she'd been there, and wouldn't mind consulting Niv-Mizzet. He might know what to do with the information she had...if he thought it worth his time. "Or maybe Innistrad? You eager to go home?"

    "Innistrad and I have washed our hands of each other," Lance said dismissively. "But perhaps we do not need to go anywhere." He looked at her, and she was clearly confused. "If it was the orochi who called us, he called us here for a reason. If he only took advantage of the call...perhaps we should determine what caused it. Either way, Dominaria seems like an excellent place to begin looking."

    "You can call yourself whatever you want.
    Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
    At our core we're all the same thing.
    Monsters."

  14. #39
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    OOC: Quick one, blergh finals.

    ---

    Dominaria
    Madra, The Talon Gates


    Oh look. The idiots were fighting again.

    Thayshia looked on with disdain and a hint of mocking amusement, fiddling with her hair as she supported herself in the air with a few well timed flaps of her wings. She grinned to herself devilishly, stifling a chuckle. She didn’t want to show it, but she actually enjoyed the fight a little. It was basically two holy assholes ducking it out over who was the holier and assholier one. Wasn’t that priceless. Well, not really ducking it out, seemed like the prick of a priest wasn’t interested. He descended next to Thayshia, and she instantly edged away. God, she didn’t want him near her. He said something about her being right and went on a short-lived spiel on how you never gave up and how dark urges were bad and blah blah. She wasn’t really listening until he actually got closer and she was forced to shoot a glare up at him.

    What do you want? Why are you smiling like an idiot?!

    “I think this one is the most wise of us all.”

    This one?” She breathed. “Stop talking like I’m some cute, small animal.”

    He ignored her. She swore, if that tincan of an archon didn’t kill him, she would. After just insulting her again he went on to introduce himself like someone actually cared. And not soon after, the other guy Thayshia couldn’t stand opened his mouth and yet again the fairy was left wondering which one she hated the most.

    "I can't say much for fighting with sticks, but it would seem there are far more effective options. But I think that has been demonstrated quite clearly. Wouldn't you agree? As for what his plan is to me? When said plan involves the weakening and dissolving of the barriers that keep New Phyrexia so nicely contained to a single plane, his plan should be of great concern to everyone."

    She listened, not really understanding his little remark at the start and him glancing at her staff – was he trying to imply something? She was never good with indirect shit like this. If he wanted to say something, he should’ve just said it. God. Couldn’t be that difficult. Regardless, she turned to him and let out a laugh.

    “Why should he care about some fucking barriers? His home is in danger. If you wanna make sure those barriers stay in place protecting your little coward asses, how about you go help him so he doesn’t have to rely on a plan that involves endangering them, hmm? Or what, are you scared of the Phyrexians?” She smirked. “Don’t worry, I think it’d be good if you got caught by a couple of them, personally. They could help mold your face into something a little more bearable, even!”

    The conversation shifted to looking for the orochi and truth be told, that was a direction Thayshia liked. Now if only the stupid angel would’ve kept his yap shut. Well, at least he had a point.

    “In that case, I suggest we split up,” she spat, determined. “While I’d love to watch some of you idiots rip each other apart –“ she gave a glance at Claire, Rckaird and Gibrael, and a hopeful one at Lance too, “ I don’t think that’s gonna get us anywhere.”

    Meanwhile, Rckaird had been listening to Claire comparing him with Gibrael. The priest himself had seemed surprised over his actions as well. Did they both truly think he and a lowly priest were comparable? He was no tyrant, he was a beacon of hope to many a people suffering at the hands of the unjust. The ignorance the two displayed was overwhelming, but not knowing was no excuse to commit heresy. The priest needed be punished regardless.

    So, without a second thought Rckaird walked over to the group and settled to standing behind Gibrael, his hand still at the hilt of his sword. The priest and the despicable hare woman had introduced themselves and Rckaird had realized that he actually had not. Could it be the priest didn’t realize who he was? Very well then, maybe giving his name would help him understand.

    “Rckaird,” his voice rumbled as he unsheathed his sword, “Rckaird Ironclad.” He introduced himself, bringing his sword in front of Gibrael from behind, the side of the blade pressing against the man’s chest. He would not kill yet, but he would hurt. Hurt and hope his name helped bring some sense into the priest before he was forced to take his life.

    “The Judge of the Multiverse,” he finished as he took a tighter grip and slashed a huge gash across the priest’s chest, blinding light engulfing the two and attempting to burrow its way into the priest’s wound. And from within the light Rckaird continued calmly, as if he hadn’t just cut up an ally, “And I approve of us splitting our group in favor of a more widespread search, however…” He paused slightly. “The priest will come with me.”
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  15. #40
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    Lance laughed at Thay. "You're right. We should just invite the Phyrexians over. I'm sure they wouldn't mind having another chance at this plane." He looked at Rimuel and for a moment, something akin to pity flashed across his angled features. "His 'home' is beyond saving. There are how many? A few hundred? Maybe a few thousand surviving Mirrans? Surviving, of course, by the grace of a Praetor. There is no way to save Mirrodin. You can only stop New Phyrexia. And the best way to stop it, of course, is by limiting its chance to spread."

    "Or what, are you scared of the Phyrexians?” She smirked. “Don’t worry, I think it’d be good if you got caught by a couple of them, personally. They could help mold your face into something a little more bearable, even!”
    "Of course I'm afraid of them," Lance said, rolling his eyes. "You'd be a fool not to be. A single Praetor could wipe the floor with all ten of us, Planeswalkers or not." He chuckled, resting his wrist against the hilt of the Black Blade. "As for my face," he chuckled again. "I'm sorry to say, but the approval of little pixies is not something I strive--or even care--for."

    Lance would have been content to acquiesce to the split of the group, if only to extract himself from the more bothersome individuals. He didn't see the point of two groups stumbling blindly through the Multiverse for clues, or how that was any better than one large group stumbling around, but at this point he didn't quite care for the company of priets, idealists, archons, or pixies. He, of course, would not mind at all the company of pyromancers and moonfolk, or Bantian knights; and could stomach the presence of leonin giants and half-elves.

    He would have been perfectly content to simply let things be. Lance was an individual dedicated to the following of his whims. He did what he want, when he wanted to, because he wanted. And with the power afforded to him not much was out of reach. He was an advocate of following whims, in himself and others. He didn't insinuate himself into others' matters unless they concerned him directly, which is why he cared little for the priest's outbursts or the conflict between the archon and Claire (and everyone, for that matter). He would have preferred Claire accompany them, if she chose to, but that was for purely aesthetic reasons. If no one at all had decided to investigate the strange turn of events, Lance likely would have done so on his own, if only because his interest was piqued. And he would have followed the path until its end, or until he grew bored with it.

    Indeed, he would have been content to simply sit back and watch the unfolding drama before him, were it not for the newly-introduced Rckaird's increasingly violent and self-righteous attacks on the priest and others. Lance had...issues with those who took claim to divine right and extorted its influence. He was--after all--still an angel, and still possessed something of an angel's sensibilities when it came to the matters of tyranny.

    "A 'judge' you say?" Lance asked, smirk slashed across his features. "It's my understanding that a judge is an appointed position." He rubbed his chin in mock-contemplation. "Who then appointed you to this position?" he mocked. He pointed to Gshir. "I'm going to assume it was the lion, right?" He laughed again. "And either way you're just an archon," he said this full of condescension. "Then you realize, of course, that a judge only presides over the enforcement of the law and does not, in fact, apprehend suspects, determine guilt, or carry out punishment."

    "And even a judge is not above the law," Jareth rumbled, stepping forward. He'd had just about enough of the archon, and would not stand to see him harm anyone further in his belligerence. "For it to be law, all must be beholden to it. And the only true law that can encompass something as large as the Multiverse is the law of nature."

    "What's that? 'Survival of the fittest', 'kill or be killed', 'hunt or be hunted'?" Claire asked, scathingly. Lance watched her carefully; she simply seemed to hate people telling her what to do.

    "No. Though in places where one must hunt and kill to survive, it is, of course, necessity," Jareth answered calmly. "Natural law governing sentients is simple; that thought, speech, and action be unrestricted until they infringe upon the thought, speech, and action of another."

    "Oh," Claire said, anger gone. "Yeah. I can get behind that."

    Lance stepped forward and spread his wings. "In case you're having trouble following, Your Honor," he said, chuckling low, lips spread in a thin smile, dark eyes flashing. "If it pleases the court, I'd like to present Exhibit A: everyone standing in opposition to you." He spread his arms out.

    "And Exhibit B," Claire said with a smirk. "The door."

    "You're free to stay or go," Jareth declared, his voice strong. He stepped forward until he was staring down at the archon. "But the priest will do and go as he pleases. And if you choose to stay, you will carry yourself in an appropriate manner. Have I made myself clear?"

    "Your Honor," Lance added mockingly.

    "You can call yourself whatever you want.
    Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
    At our core we're all the same thing.
    Monsters."

  16. #41
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    Dominaria
    Madra, The Talon Gates


    "Of course I'm afraid of them," Lance said, rolling his eyes. "You'd be a fool not to be. A single Praetor could wipe the floor with all ten of us, Planeswalkers or not. As for my face, I'm sorry to say, but the approval of little pixies is not something I strive--or even care--for."

    Thayshia glared at Lance, her wings starting to flare up. It was clear she was seething, yet she managed an amused half-smirk anyway.

    “Hah. There you have it, folks!” She cheered, throwing one hand in the air theatrically. “The weensy angel is wetting his pants, and that’s why he’s giving up on a whole plane just like that! Glad we got that clear and outta the way, otherwise I might’ve actually thought of you as worth something.” Her face fell into a scowl and her eyes became two glaring slits as she almost whispered: “As for my size...”

    She gathered all the patience she had to keep herself from clawing out the angel’s eyes. “Out of all the things, you decided to attack it. Ran out of things to pick at and went with the obvious choice? How cute. Too bad I hate cute, sissy-boy.” The flames around her grew along with her anger. "Never insult my height again unless you want the hairs of your ass roasted and force-fed to you, fuckface.”

    She really didn't care about the shit going on with the archon after that, all she knew that she had finally found out who she hated more, the skank or the wannabe angel. So she was content to just watching, her small form almost ablaze as the others almost started another fight right then and there.

    Rckaird found that none of the people present seemed capable of understanding what he was doing, from the sounds of it. They all talked as if no law bound them – as if they were free to do whatever they willed. They were exactly the kind of beings that caused chaos and unrest. They were teetering on the line separating the foolish from the malevolent, and should they ever cross, Rckaird believed he needed to do more than just slap their fingers as he had been doing up until now. He was surprised to see even the lionin believing himself to be free of law through an excuse of the Multiverse being too large – its size did not matter. He would bring peace regardless. Rckaird did not shy from a challenge where the reward was for everyone to live without the fear of crime. The archon had ages ago stopped heeding whatever came from the woman’s mouth, and the faux angel’s attempt to talk him down he found amusing at best. For him to actually be so petty as to get caught up on the term he used… very well then.

    “It would seem some clarification is in order for those of you with simpler minds,” he spoke as he turned to Lance, looking past the lionin in front of him as if he wasn’t there at all. “I am the Judge, and I am the jury. I am the executioner, and I am the law itself. This was a duty appointed to me by the worlds themselves, and by each and every people who needed salvation. My name is spoken with praise in many a world by people thankful for being rid of crime and fear, and it is knowing that people like that exist, that they are helped by my actions that I will continue to carry out my duty, no matter how many heretics or ignorant fools set themselves above the rules and attempt to stand in my way.”

    He raised his blade, its surface reflecting light for a fleeting moment before he sheathed it and stood still once more.

    “I will stay, for it is my duty to do so. But I will not bend the law to allow for heretics to roam free and pass halfhearted judgement over the innocent. If the priest will not realize his place, I am forced to remind him of it." He looked down at the priest. He hoped that would not be necessary, and actually partly believed it would not be; if the priest truly served good as he claimed, then his name alone should have made him realize his mistake and seek to never repeat it again.
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  17. #42
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    “I am the Judge, and I am the jury. I am the executioner, and I am the law itself. This was a duty appointed to me by the worlds themselves, and by each and every people who needed salvation. My name is spoken with praise in many a world by people thankful for being rid of crime and fear, and it is knowing that people like that exist, that they are helped by my actions that I will continue to carry out my duty, no matter how many heretics or ignorant fools set themselves above the rules and attempt to stand in my way.”
    "But then what is the 'law'?" Morgana replied coldly. "Is it what the 'worlds' declare it to be? Is it your code? Is it adaptive to circumstances, or is it absolute? Do you forgive those who steal if they had no other way to feed themselves? Do you forgive murder if it is done in self-defense?" She paused. "You have already proven yourself intolerant, archon. For every person who praises your name and deeds, I imagine many more cower in fear of your absolute judgment, cold and uninterested by circumstances."

    "I do not approve of your beliefs nor your attitude, Rckaird," Rimuel said. "You say we are of 'simpler minds'. Bullshit. I know your type. You believe your morality is absolute, and all who stand against it, no matter their reason, must be punished. I would never wish the horror of Phyrexia upon anyone, archon, but believe me when I say you would fit well into that hell. You're as uncompromising and ruthless as New Phyrexia. And if you continue to try and impose your rigid morals upon us, we will not stand for it."

    "I have met people like you," Morgana said. "I never once found them praised and worshipped. I found them despised and feared, oppressing those around them with the terror of death. Some believed in a morality like yours. Others believed in the rule of power, that the powerless fall into despair, while the powerful win greater and greater glory. Either way, I cast them down and broke them. You say you are praised, archon. How would you know? You believe your purpose is ordained by the worlds themselves. I believe that you are deluded and unwilling to accept the opinions of others." She paused. "How terrible would your ideal be if realized? A world of silence and fear, where no-one challenges anyone for fear of retribution. That's not an ideal world. That's Hell."

    She considered. "If you travel with me, archon, then be warned. If you try to force your judgments and beliefs upon me by force, I will answer with force. And I would be glad to see one less fanatical zealot trying to impose your sort of judgment upon the worlds."
    [CENTER]

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    Lance laughed loudly, almost uncontrollably, to the point that Claire and Jareth (standing beside him) were becoming uncomfortable. "Thank you, archon. I haven't laughed so well in a long time. Not even the pixie was so amusing. Ah." he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Thank you. But let's be serious for a moment, shall we?"

    "I think he was serious," Claire said.

    Lance laughed again and sighed. "Ah. Even better. Which worlds are the ones you say have entrusted themselves to your spectacular judgment? Because I can't quite recal ever hearing your name on any of the myriad worlds I've travelled between. And I've travelled quite far."

    "Touch the priest again, and I will remind you of yours," said Jareth. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You've currently attacked nearly as many of us as that orochi. For all you speak of defeating chaos, you seem to be its harbinger."

    "You can call yourself whatever you want.
    Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
    At our core we're all the same thing.
    Monsters."

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    Dominaria
    Madra, The Talon Gates

    Everyone seemed to be calming down, a very good thing considering the tension in the atmosphere. Some already began formulating plans and suggesting a search on this very plane; not exactly what Gibrael would have thought of but the angel’d made his point.

    It was due to this mutual, unspoken understanding among planeswalkers to move on over initial mistrusts that Gibrael failed to mind Rckaird moving behind him. He was paying all his attention listening to Lance and trying to remember all of what he knew about this small continent to notice Rckaird’s ominous feelings and fatal intentions. Only when the archon began unsheathing his sword did the priest snap back into reality.

    A great, searing pain almost crippled Gibrael, as a violent pour of white mana filled with violence and… malice, a will to hurt, to punish him, flooded the priest. This was odd. Very odd! White mana rarely hurt him, even when cast by the most evil of souls. The Dawn Elemental he was fused with further transformed his own powers to the point white mana touching him usually became a part of himself pretty much automatically.

    The archon introduced himself: Rckaird Ironclad… Judge of the Multiverse? It was hard to tell. His hearing wasn’t at its best at the moment, and the powerful slash to his chest only made his confusion worse. He felt them both be swallowed in light, at first most emanating from Rckaird’s sword, but then from Gibrael’s own wound. The Dawn Elemental was quick to act, doing its part in preventing any real damage and healing what little of it there was, so thankfully, the attack did much less than the archon probably intended. When the light faded, Gibrael was already standing, although panting slightly and looking at the archon, completely unsure of what to make of what just happened. In the midst of the confusion, the priest’s robes moved on their own, arranging layer after layer of silk over the gash and covering it up.

    It was for this reason that he failed to speak up during the proceeding argument. But some words did garner his attention, particularly so those of Jareth, the imposing lion man. He was as wise as he was strong, or so it seemed, but he advocated for freedom and natural law, failing to see that freedom of choice had to be accompanied by those who punish those who abuse it. It’s not like he didn’t even consider the possibility of “too much freedom”, as he’d drawn a line on where one’s power of choice ends, but he did not justify just what happens if that line is crossed.

    It intrigued him. Theoretically, Jareth was not that far off. Gibrael himself followed a dogma that was not all that different, he simply had another role in the chain of society. While Jareth seemed to want to preserve freedom of choice by defending it, Gibrael wanted to preserve freedom and good by correcting the path of those who strayed. He didn’t kill or punish, he helped. He held no grudges and no malice.

    Unlike the Judge.

    The suggestion of splitting up came up, again, and to both Yuu and Gibrael this seemed like the perfect idea for now.

    “Yes, let’s split up,” Yuu interrupted, fed up with this whole drama.
    “ If this,” she gestured to the group, referencing the fighting, “continues, I’ll kill you all myself just so I don’t have to listen to you all anymore. That said…”

    She walked gracefully through the entire group, stopping only when she was at Lance’s side.

    “I’m with this one. He… intrigues me,” she admitted rather matter-of-factly. She tried to gaze at his eyes the way an astronomer gazes at the stars, drawing maps of patterns and making conclusions about the nature of things from them.

    As for Gibrael, if his initial admiration for Jareth hadn’t been enough, the way he stepped out to protect him just now, threatening Rckaird to not try attacking him again, had sold him. Sure, the lion had pounced on him earlier, but he’d attribute that to faulty judgement. He’d probably assumed he was going to attack that elf the same way Rckaird’d attacked Claire, when in fact he was just expressing himself… with mana.

    “And I’m with Jareth. There are many things I want to discuss, and I think we can both learn from each other.” Gibrael’d walked right in front of the leonin, and even though he barely reached his chest, he puffed his own chest out and looked the man on the… mane. He tried to look him on the eye, but the damn thing stood in the way every time the lion inhaled. Well, at least his breath wasn’t... that bad.

    And then, Gibrael remember something. A legend about the Talon Gates being… the remains of, what was it now, a whale? No, much more powerful and imposing. Wasn’t there a battle fought here? Damn… Wait, was he remembering things right? The remains of… a god! That was it! The remains of an otherworldly god!

    “Lance, was it? Tell me, did you notice anything on those rocks where you fought the orochi? A particular taste on the mana there, a weird formation… anything at all? Those peaks have quite the story behind them, though I can’t exactly recall what. And we can’t exactly ask around, either. The habitants of this continent are not the friendliest of peoples.”

  20. #45
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    "I've heard stories about those gates," Thamien replied. "A very powerful dragon lives in there. I've heard tales of it. Smart as a whip, charismatic, dangerous. We'd best steer clear, gods know if it's still in there." His attention turned toward Jareth. "Perhaps a few extra noses could aid you in tracking the trail of that serpent." With the wave of Thamien's hand, a cyan cloud of energy appeared. From it emerged a small pack of wolves, dark blue cysts dotting their bodies and covering their eyes. "Simic trackers, born without eyes but they're bred to have exceptionally powerful senses of smell. Once we find the end of his trail, we might be able to re-open his bridge find out where he went." The wolves moved between the walkers, gathering their scents to exclude their trails from their mind.

    Thamien took a seat on a rock as a teapot and teacup appeared in his hands. As he poured a cup of tea for himself. "Can I offer anyone here a cup of tea? It's my own special blend, enriched with green and blue mana." He looked around, no one seemed interested. He took a sip from his cup. "No takers? It's not poison, I promise. I think we all just need to have a seat and take a load off. If we rush this, we'll end up going in the wrong direction and our trail will go cold. We just need to let the wolves do their work." He once again turned to Jareth. "That includes you, leonin."
    Last edited by Gentleman Skeleton; 7th May 2012 at 7:07 PM.
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  21. #46
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    "That's a well and good idea, if this orochi 'walker is your primary concern," Lance said, flicking something from beneath his nails.

    "He has a point," Jareth rumbled, his voice deep. "I'm still wondering why we were drawn to Dominaria. There would certainly be better planes to set a trap on. And what was it that called us here?"

    "Who cares?" Claire snapped, flinging her arms wide. "We were attacked! We should be finding that scaly, four-armed coward and making us some orochi steaks!" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Who cares about the 'why'? The fact is that he did!" She jabbed her thumb towards Thamien. "I'm with the elf on this one. Let's get moving and catch this scaly pr*ck."

    Claire closed her eyes for a moment, focusing, hoping to find a lingering trace of the orochi 'walker's trail. But her eyes snapped back open and she spun around to the rest of the group.

    "I can't--" she struggled to find the words. "I...my Planeswalking...it's gone."

    "Gone?" Jareth wondered. Was such a thing even possible? Nothing too terribly strange had occurred between arriving upon Dominaria and then--discounting the battle with the orochi. But Claire had barely been involved, no more than the rest of them. The only thing that seemed unusual was Rckaird's watery attack on her, and-- "Damn."

    "You!" Claire snarled, spinning around to face Rckaird. She obviously had come to the same conclusion. Her fists were already burning red-hot, and flame was already billowing around her form. She shot forward. "You did this to me! You arrogant, condescending-"

    Surprisingly, it was Lance who barred her path. He placed a hand against her chest and stopped her cold with a stare. The other hand was held toward Rckaird, in case the archon decided to impose his own little brand of moral conformity at the moment.

    "Much as I believe I'd enjoy seeing you dismantle the archon, I don't believe he's the culprit," Lance said, his voice low. Claire brushed his hand away and straightened, calmed for the moment, it seemed. But flames still swirled around her.

    "Has to be," she snapped, pointing accusingly. "He's the only one who did anything all weird-like to--"

    "Except that none of us can Planeswalk at the moment," Lance interjected. That stopped Claire in her tracks. Lance looked to the others. "Go ahead, try." And no one could. "This has nothing to do with the orochi or the archon. This is something different."

    "What has the power to stop ten Planeswalkers?" Jareth muttered, more to himself than the others. He'd seen many great and awe-inspiring forces in his travels, but to block the innate abilities of all ten 'walkers present...that was not something he'd experienced before.

    "I believe we're about to find out," said Lance, glaring inland into the distant sky. He made a face, a strange mixture of frown and toothy grin. "I'd heard they'd returned, but I never thought they'd come settle here in Madra." He chuckled. "But I guess that's why the area's inhabitants are so well-behaved."

    Jareth stared off too, feeling with his sixth sense moreso than his eyes. He felt an enormous presence moving towards them--no! It was more than one. It was several. Five separate essences that were all still one and the same. He would have raised an alarm were it not for the fact that he sensed no hostility from them.

    "But what are they?" he wondered aloud. He'd never felt such a domineering presence; complete and totally in control. Full of ancient power, but new and young and bright.

    The figures began to take shape in the sky, growing dots of color against the bright blue, shimmering bright and vibrant, almost glowing with power. They moved with tremendous speed and effortless grace, slicing easily through the air.

    "They're what you'd always expect to find when dealing with plane-wide powers and presences," Lance said with a smirk. He gazed up at the nearing figures and could now make out their shapes. Long, sinewy bodies; bright, glistening scales; and enormous, wide-sailing wings. "Dragons." He didn't draw his sword, but kept his hand by the blade's hilt nonetheless.

    Jareth bristled and grit his teeth. "I've seen dragons. Fought them. But none that felt like these," he growled.

    "That's because there are none like these," Claire answered, following their gazes. "If I'm guessing right, these are more than simple dragons. These things are basically gods. Old beyond measure. Older than almost anything else."

    Lance nodded, and spoke a single word in reverence. "Primevals."

    "You can call yourself whatever you want.
    Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
    At our core we're all the same thing.
    Monsters."

  22. #47
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    Talon Gates
    Madra
    Dominaria

    The elf, supposedly still believing the orochi was hiding somewhere on Madra, summoned some sort of specialty breed of tracking wolves. Claiming they’d be able to chase a prey through different planes, should they be capable of hopping dimensions, he was all but certain he had found a solution. Yuu was all but so certain.

    When the wolves approached to catch a scent of the walkers, Gibrael tried petting them. The more he lived with nature, the more intrigued by it he was; without limits, rules and overseers, they could do anything they wanted, and often ended causing more trouble than they should. However, the taste of evil was rarely ever present... It bore the question of why creatures tainted by nature, such as the vampires, werewolves, and other abominations so common throughout Innistrad became so unquestionably evil under their influence.

    Unlike him, however, Yuu was much more tense. When the wolf began sniffing at her robes, she kicked him in the snout. She knew better than to trust drooling creatures who could do nothing but trust their savage nature... She could tell, even without soul or mindreading magic, that that wolf wanted nothing more than to have her as his next meal. Well, this may have come as somewhat of a shock, but Yuu had no intention of becoming rabbit stew anytime soon.

    So she just cut the beast’s head off.

    “Next time something tries to eat me, I’ll do a lot worse,” she threatened as she cleaned the mist-like aether seeping from her blade and sheathed it.

    "Except that none of us can Planeswalk at the moment."

    “What?!” she shouted, surprised. She proceeded to try to hop back to Innistrad for a second, nearly burning the ground when her frustration at failing to manifested as burning mists flailing wildly around her.

    “What is the meaning of this?!”

    “So, is this what this was all about? An elaborate trap to keep us contained?” Gibrael said, addressing the group as a whole. “Well, I’m certainly glad it was this particular plane, even if I’m in the wrong continent. Best place to be trapped should be one’s home, but...” His face got a lot stiffer. “I’m not all that comfortable with having my powers stripped from me at a moment’s notice without no warning and explanation. I was barely even aware that my situation was as widespread as it is, but it is apparently that much reversible?”

    Gibrael took a few steps down the beach and sat down on a small rock protruding from the sand. “That does hurt one’s confidence.”

    The conversation was cut short. Gibrael felt the vibrations in the air, and the taste of ancient mana permeating the heavens, slowly descending upon them. When he turned back around to put his fears at rest, he could only see the blazing trail of red mist left by Yuu’s sudden propulsion through the skies.

    “Is she going to do something we’ll all regret?”

    When Yuu saw those beautiful, fascinating, awe-inspiring creatures flying towards them, she could not contain the burst of excitement. One needed but to look upon them to realize how powerful these creatures were! She did not know how old they were, or exactly how powerful really, but look at them! Dragons! And from the timing, they too were connected to all of this!

    And there was yet to come the day when Yuu would forsake the opportunity to get acquainted with new, powerful, red-aligned creatures (naturally, all so she could replicate them from the aether later.) She was not going to attack –not yet, anyway. She was impulsive, but not outright stupid. If they turned out to have the same appetite as that wolf from before, though, then she’d have to deliver the very same punishment. Even if beheading an ancient dragon did entail a great degree more technique.

  23. #48
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    Things were tense as the five dragons neared, flying low over the Madran coast towards the Planeswalkers. They moved with speed and swiftness belied by their immense size, but there was no hostility in their approach. Their flight was smooth, crisp and perfect; with barely a flap of their enormous wings; it was as if the air itself bent around them and knelt to their direction.

    "Well aren't they something," Lance muttered, he tried to play cool, but he was clearly nervous. Beings like that, dragons like that...it wasn't something brushed aside so easily. These were dragons with power beyond mortal comprehension. Not beyond Planeswalker comprehension, of course, but that didn't make it any less impressive. In fact, understanding their power as he did made Lance all the more apprehensive about their impending arrival.

    Jareth, on the other hand, was bristling, fangs bared, shoulders raised. He gripped the Behemoth Sledge tightly in one hand, the other hovering over his grappling hook. He knew dragons, fierce beasts, natives of Jund; the ravenous killers that took his sister. He would take no chances with these dragons, regardless of how docile they seemed.

    Claire was excited; she'd met few dragons. Ravnica was home only to Mizzet and his small clones, but that was all. They'd been hunted to extinction otherwise. They were also rather rare on both Zendikar, Lorwyn, and Mirrodin, the other three planes she'd spent most of her time on. On each plane she'd seen only one or two distinct breeds of dragon. But these five that approached were all different, a dazzling array of colors and shapes.

    The first dragon she laid her eyes upon was a huge blue one with shimmering-smooth scales. It was sleek and smooth, flawless and unmarred, with a dream-like quality to its presence. Several rows of red fins ran down the length of the dragon's back and neck, and its wings shimmered with deep red-and-green scales. It was adorned in gold and precious stones around its neck, wrists, and fingers. She could see reality bend around the dragon, trailing off in dream-like whisps.

    Next landed a massive red dragon, with scales that glowed a fiery brilliance in the dance of sunlight. It was a more physical creature than the blue one, more heavily muscled, with a longer, thicker tail. It was crowned with a pair of backwards-sweeping horns. Its wings and scales seemed more battered; scarred, with evidence of deep old wounds. It was also less ornately-decorated than its companions, with only a trio of leather loops and beads around its neck.

    Her eyes then found the green dragon. It was hugely barrel-chested with long, sweeping, sickle-shaped wings. Its limbs were short but strong, and its jaws were massively muscled, with a pair of protruding and interlocking fangs at the front. A row of small, sharp ran all the way down from its neck to the end of its long, thick tail, which itself had several fins. Like its blue compatriot it was highly decorated in gold and precious gems.

    The black dragon was long and whip-like; thin and sleek. Its limbs were small, but ended in wickedly sharp claws. Its teeth were narrow, but razor-edged. Its scales were large and smooth, and alternated between reflecting all light and absorbing it, each at different times, so that it appeared to be shifting in and out of existence. It too was adorned in gold, though less than the others. But it was also adorned with sharp steel spikes, bonded to the heavy-thick scales. It gave it a rather menacing appearance.

    Finally there was what Claire could only assume was the white dragon (for if the other four dragons were of the first four colors, she could only logically reason that the fifth was a dragon of white mana), but it was not exactly "white" beyond the scales on its belly and its glowing eyes. Its scales were almost gold, while those around its head took a reddish hue and a long row of black spines ran down its back. Its arms were massively muscled and its tail was adorned with wide fins.

    The five dragons settled in a circle around the Planeswalkers, they showed no hostility, but it was clear that they would not allow the 'walkers to leave until they heard what the dragons had to say. If they said anything at all. For the moment, they simply gazed down at the assembled 'walkers with their inscrutiable, piercing gazes. All the while, Jareth continued to bristle. Claire was still staring in astonishment and fascination. And Lance, while calm and collected, was obviously uneasy.

    "Who speaks for you?" asked the blue dragon. The question caught most off guard, but Lance already knew the sh*t storm it was about to stir up.

    "We all speak for ourselves, good dragon," Lance said with a sweeping bow, switching on the charm. "Believe me, that is not a can of worms you want to open."

    "We are aware of the wurm that appeared," said the dragon, who lowered its neck to gaze closer at the group. "But were unaware you had opened its can."

    Lance snapped up, taken aback. His mind worked quickly, trying to figure out whether or not the dragon knew the saying, or might actually mistake them for the ones who'd summoned it. "That's not at all what I-"

    "Be calm, Planeswalker," interrupted the red dragon. "The Lady Intet was merely attempting humor. She has not, however, quite yet mastered sarcasm."

    The huge blue dragon drew back and shook its--her head. "It is of no fault of my own if this small man cannot grasp the context of my levity."

    "You'll forgive me for being on edge," Lance challenged. He knew better than to cow to a dragon; they respected only strength and powe: of any sort, be it intelligence, wealth, or cunning as well as the physical--but dragons admired power. "I fought off several unwelcome threats this last half hour, and your sudden arrival was not without concern."

    "Only you fought these threats?" the black dragon asked, its voice almost challenging, almost as if it was trying to illicit a rise from the assembled Planeswalkers.

    "I speak only for myself," Lance said with a smirk. "But indeed, I alone fought the enemy Planeswalker."

    "Why have you come?" Jareth demanded with a growl, stepping forward. He no longer reached for the hook, but his hammer was still held at the ready. "Are you the ones who called us here?"

    "Indeed we are," said the green dragon, coiling down to meet the lion's glare. "Though we had hoped you would be called to our location rather than this desolate corner of the empire. But as you know, navigating the extra-planar realms is haphazard at best."

    "You can call yourself whatever you want.
    Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
    At our core we're all the same thing.
    Monsters."

  24. #49
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    Dominaria
    Madra, The Talon Gates


    They truly were all fools.

    The more each individual member of the group spoke, the more convinced Rckaird became of that fact. They were all simple minded just like he had though, not being able to see how noble his goals were. They did not understand the beauty of the world he sought to build. They were so unable to see the world through a different point of view that they immediately cast a view not of their own as something “evil” and “wrong”. They were so afraid of change – even if it would have been for the better – that they’d rather stick with chaos and uncertainty than allow someone to guide them to a better tomorrow. Was it pride? Were they merely too prideful to admit being wrong, to follow the lead of another?

    Rckaird didn’t have much time to think on that any further when wolves were summoned into their midst. He recognized the creatures and so did Gshir, though the latter still let out a slow, steady growl as the canines approached as if to warn them not to get too close. Rckaird himself merely stood, completely absorbed in a rather… strange sensation that overtook him for a passing second. Something was wrong. And the moment Claire spun around towards him and screamed that she couldn’t Planeswalk he realized what it was.

    He couldn’t, either.

    “What the fuck is this?!” Thayshia screamed from some distance away, still shooing away the wolves that tried to sniff her, apparently having noticed the same lack of ‘walking power within herself. Fuming, she made flames burst from the ground in front of her, effectively also scaring of the unwanted furballs. She didn’t like any four-legged creature bigger than her (which pretty much meant she liked none of them as you’d be hard pressed to find any creature smaller than her) and would not hesitate to crisp herself a canine meal should the wolves ignore her warnings. Hey, it was just fair! Creatures like that tried to make lunch out of her all the time, was about time she got a bite back at them too. Stupid mutts…

    Well at lest they aren’t-

    A huge shadow was cast over her, and the second she heard the beating of enormous wings, her eyes widened.

    -Dragons. Oh, hell no!

    She spun around in an instant, her entire body surrounded by a small shield of fire. Dragons. Out of all the creatures in the Multiverse, they had to get surrounded by a bunch of dragons. She could not deny their strength nor their majesty of their form, but regardless – or maybe even because – of that, she couldn’t stand them. She had almost been killed by a few of them more than once. And while that alone wasn’t bad enough to warrant the creatures eternal hate from the small fairy, the fact that most of them had almost killed her on accident did. Stupid, humongous pieces of shit, why couldn’t they never watch where they were flying, much less where they were stepping?!

    One of the shitheads attempted humour. Thayshia laughed dryly. For an ancient, almighty being, that one sure seemed lame. They all did. And yet, she found herself backing away just a tad every time they spoke, found herself tensing with every breath they took.

    Well, all the way up until she learned they had been the ones who called them here.

    “The hell?!” She shouted, eyes fixed on the green one that seemed to be the closest. “You called us here and then couldn’t even make sure we arrived in the right place?! You know the amount of shit we’ve been through because of that?! You-”

    Rckaird cut the small fairy off as he decided to raise his voice as well, his hood turned to face the same dragon as Thayshia. He didn't waste words like her however, uttering nothing but a simple question of “For what purpose did you summon us?”
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  25. #50
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    Dominaria
    Madra, The Talon Gates

    At full power and flying inside a burning coment, Yuu was still unable to keep up with most of the dragons - who simply flew by her without a problem. She wasted no time chasing them, displaying the sensational ability to stop completely in mid air, then “kicking” the air she was in and propelling herself in the opposite direction, back to where the others all stood.

    She was in love, truly. Not only was their power tangible, they were all so graceful. And beautiful. And majestic… She could not take her eyes of them. When they landed, she was unable to hold herself, and simply buzzed around each of the dragons like an annoying fly.

    Gibrael was in awe, unsure of how to react to the dragons’ appearance. He treated them with utmost respect, as one should in the presence of beings as mighty and wise as these, and carefully listened to their explanation.

    It was due to the immense innate respect he had for these beasts that their actions shook him so. Not only did one of the dragons appear… somewhat too nonchalant, wasting time with an attempted joke when the situation called for no such thing, but the casual relationship between, at least, the red and the blue dragon made them seem both more approachable and much less awe-inspiring. Indeed, one should never meet their idols.

    This behavior was completely disregarded by Yuu, who had now focused her attention on the red dragon, the one who interrupted the blue one (surely this was a sign of its hierarchical superiority!), and playfully poked at its scales. The dragon seemed to be tolerating her for now, even if it was obvious by its shallow growls and threatening looks that he was none too pleased with her incessant prodding.

    “In that case,” interrupted Gibrael when the dragon announced of their responsibility with the summons. “does it mean that Orochi was summoned here the same way as us, and attacked without warning or cause? I find that a little hard to believe.”

    This whole situation was confusing and nonsensical, but the Orochi’s actions in particular were the most outrageous. The only explanation for this turn of events (the summons, the attack and the subsequent intra-planar trap) only made some sense if it all tied back to the snake.

    For the moment, the Primevals seemed benevolent enough. Such was obviously not the case of the other planeswalker. The rapid ambush, set out with creatures not just summoned but physically transported from other planes, made the attack nearly impossible to have been performed instantaneously without prior set up.

    This, among other suspicions, only led Gibrael to the uneasy conclusion that the Primevals were allied with the orochi; or that, alternatively, the snake had foreknowledge of their plans all along.

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