The Cursed Blade (Retelling, ARG game)

 This is a republishing of Wizards's story of Raben Amsel, the main character for the ARG game created during the original Innistrad set in 2011.  It was lost in the website migration, so here it is remade for you all, with the explanation article at the top.  Enjoy!

--------------------

RE: Josh Brauer

Hello everyone. I'm Ryan Miller, senior game designer here at Wizards and a good friend of Josh Brauer's.

If you're not sure who I'm talking about, let me fill you in. Weeks ago, we started leaking bits of story in the form of various letters, journal entries and other in-world correspondences leading up to the release of Innistrad. Some of you may have even received a postcard in the mail with the mysterious "twitter.com/brauerjosh" URL on it.

So What Was This All About?

It started as an idea I had of a way to tell a story. We've done lots of stuff in the past, including novels, comics and online articles to flesh out the story of Magic. When I heard that we were doing Innistrad, I was very excited. I've always been a fan of gothic horror, from Dracula to Castlevania.

I had also run a few small Alternate Reality Games, or ARGs, in the past, and the thing that struck me most about them was their ability to get the players invested in the story and the characters. It's one thing to read a story, and quite another to experience it, and that's what I was going for.

Now, most "traditional" ARGs have a lot of puzzle content, but for this one I chose to avoid that. I was worried that it would be a barrier to entry, and ultimately a barrier to the story. So, what I chose to do instead was to write a story and scatter it around the web, so the "game" would be more like a scavenger hunt rather than a puzzle hunt.

So it wasn't really an ARG at all, just a different way to tell a story. I think "chaotic fiction" is the term that describes it best.

The Story

I really wanted to convey the intense desperation of the humans of this plane. Everything is conspiring against their very existence, from terrible nightmares come to life to people within their own ranks. Life in Innistrad is about strife, and giving in to or overcoming it.

During the course of writing this with my team, I realized we were writing a film noir, complete with an investigator, a femme fatale, and lots of ulterior motives. Film noir embodies so many of the themes of Innistrad: desperation, backstabbing, plotting, high stakes, personal conflicts. Once this direction became apparent, the story really took off.

We also had to weave in the theme that is central to the world of Innistrad: dark transformation. Of course this meant we had to include things like vampires, demons and werewolves, but I wanted it to be central to the main character's story as well. At its core, this is a story of Raben's transformation from a pure-hearted warrior of Avacyn to something... else.

The Team

Creating a story is a lot of fun, but it's more fun when you collaborate with truly talented individuals.

Jenna Helland is one of the veterans of the Magic creative team, and was the one responsible for most of Reika's entries. She has an excellent instinct for good story, and really breathed life into my favorite character of the story.

Matt Tabak is more than just a rules manager! His rules-brain helped us keep the story feeling "real," making sure it held to our list of in-world rules. He also wrote Geralf and Holger's entries.

Bruce Cordell is a prolific Dungeons & Dragons writer, who has probably written more books than Merriam or Webster. He graciously volunteered his time to advise us on good fantasy storytelling and wrote many of the postcards.

I got to write Raben's entries, as well as some of the other stuff. I have to admit that this is the first time I've really creeped myself out with what I wrote, especially these two entries:

Yeah. I'm going to have to dance in a meadow or play with puppies to get those two out of my head.

Going Forward

I hope to do more of these in the future. We've certainly learned a lot from this initial foray into this style of storytelling, and there will be many things I'd do differently in the future.

We had the initial challenge of making this available to non-English markets, and that was a nut we didn't quite crack. Given the time I had to work the other languages in, I chose to give the other offices the option of running a localized version at the same time as the English one, and this proved to cause more confusion than excitement. I'd probably include exclusive content for non-English markets rather than run a concurrent game like we did this time.

I'd also like to put much more game content in future offerings, from more puzzles to more previews. As much as Magic players may enjoy the story, it's hard to compete with seeing new cards, new mechanics, and new art. And while I was concerned about puzzles keeping players from getting into it, I realized there is a need for more ways for players to actively participate, rather than passively reading the story bits as they are posted.

In the end, this was something we wanted to try, some fun story bits for those of you who enjoy that sort of thing. I hope you had as much fun playing it as we had writing it!

I'd like to thank all the community members who worked to spread the word and everyone who enjoyed the ride. See you next time!

Check It Out!

You can find the complete compilation of all the ARG content here [link dead]. Enjoy!

And just for the record, I was wearing shorts the whole time.

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The Cursed Blade

Ryan Miller and Team
Monday, October 24, 2011

 

A collection of
Letters,
Journal entries
And other
correspondences

Written by

Ryan Miller (Lead)
Jenna Helland
Matt Tabak
Bruce Cordell
Josh Brauer

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Lorelei Garensun)

32nd of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

I knew it was the right thing to do, I knew it was what Pitre would have wanted. Beheading is the only way to keep someone from turning, and there was no way to be sure whether he had been bitten or not. But now my hands are forever stained, so I have decided to turn them over to Avacyn.

For these reasons, and many more, I beseech you to admit me to your humble order. I have no reason to remain here in Gavony.

Your sister in Avacyn,

Lorelei

* * *

(Journal of Raben Amsel, Cathar Adept)

60th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

This book was once a place of solace for me. A refuge. Now that its prayers have somehow faded from its pages, I cannot help but think that it is a sign that Avacyn has forsaken me.

My father has sent me on a mission for yet another of the weapons. I haven't the heart to tell him that each of these quests has proven to be near fatal. I cannot let him down—is it heresy to say that I fear his disappointment more than Avacyn's?

He has given me the name of a village: Hanweir. After a long journey, and a short battle with a band of brigands, I arrived this night to the shuttering of windows and closing of doors. Whether this place is cursed as its inhabitants believe remains to be seen. The curse of mistrust is flourishing, however.

So this book, once a place I went to for enlightenment, now becomes a place that will hopefully enlighten others. For I have little doubt that this is my final sortie. If I do not return, I pray to Avacyn that this book finds its way back home.

Father, if you are reading this, I am sorry for failing you.

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Pitre the Thatcher)

Dearest Lorelei,

You will not understand why I am leaving, which is why I have left in the night, this letter being my only explanation.

The awful truth is that I have not earned the town's accolades. The vampire I killed was just a whelp who I caught unawares while he was feeding on the chickens.

He didn't even see me, and that's how I was able to take his head off with my spade. I do not think he ever knew what happened!

When I took the head to the mayor, I was set on telling him the truth. Once he saw the fangs poking out from the horrid thing's mouth, he started a big fuss, and before I knew it, he dragged me out into the square and announced my supposed victory to all.

I've been caught up in all this mess, and living with the truth has driven me to near madness. I'm going to Erdwald in Nephalia to find a real vampire, and kill it. I cannot live with myself, nor marry you, until I have fulfilled the destiny that has been attributed to me.

Yours,

Pitre

11th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Pitre the Thatcher)

Dearest Lorelei,

It has been a harrowing journey, to be sure. Erdwald is so much bigger than Hanweir! I fear my life has ill prepared me for such a place as this.

I've been relieved of my meager kit by a gang of footpads that greeted me at the town's gates, saying they were "inspectors." They were out of sight before I realized they had fled with all I brought, save the clothes on my back.

Fear not my love! For adversity is the soil in which opportunity sprouts. I have taken in with the church, and they have greeted me with open arms! A priest has given me food and shelter, and only asks me to perform menial tasks in the upkeep of the church yards. It is a job I am all too well suited for!

Yet Avacyn has a plan, even for me! My priest has also been instructing me in the art of vampire hunting. I know it sounds dangerous, and it is, but you can be assured that when I return, you can hold your head up high as we march through the town in our wedding procession!

Yours,

Pitre

14th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Thatu Reiniger, Vampire Lord)

20th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

What do I truly gain from this shadow of an existence? Gold? Tribute? A nice house? I should have these things because I am Vampire. I should have these things because they are mine to have, not because I've bargained away my fangs for them.

These pathetic humans are as mewling infants. I grow tired of my arrangement. Indeed, what does the shepherd gain from dining with his sheep? I fear my impatience will soon overtake my honor and the agreement I've consented to will be dust. I fear still greater that this thought pleases me.

* * *

* * *

 

(Journal of Raben Amsel)

61st of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

A most enlightening day, indeed.

The town, appearing most deserted, was in fact filled with cowering peasants. I presented my patents to the mayor, a fattened calf named Jurgen. He eyed the scroll and waxed seals nervously, then relented to their obvious authority.

He then proceeded to stammer out the story of a local thatcher who had returned to the village after a journey, bleeding and near death. Once he had reached the chapel, he fell dead at its doorstep.

What came next confirmed my suspicions that this was the man I was sent to find. The mayor led me to the graveyard, where a grave ringed in red dirt resided. This blood-soaked grave could only be the final resting place of the man who had been kissed by the blade I seek.

To the sheer horror of the humble townsfolk, I ordered his body exhumed. There was much protest, but the power of the church prevailed and the digging commenced. The work proceeded until dusk, when the worker's shovels at last clanked against wood.

The simple casket was saturated with blood, its timbers nearly falling apart. Once opened, a bloody tide poured forth, to the screams and gasps of the gathered locals. Floating within, the headless body of Pitre the Thatcher rested.

Just as Father had told, his wound continued to pump forth blood. It is no wonder the people of this town feel they are cursed. After sketching the message that had been carved into his flesh, I had his remains purified by fire. May Avacyn show him the mercy that this life did not.

* * *

(Letter from Pitre the Thatcher)

Dearest Lorelei,

Day of days! My training is complete, and now I am on the trail of that most unholy of abominations—Vampire. The one I hunt is clever, there is no doubt. But I have faith on my side! Faith in Avacyn, faith in my training, and above all, faith in the truth that the blessed sleep is nothing compared to living a life with you.

Yours,

Pitre

23rd of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

* * *

(Letter from Pitre the Thatcher)

Lorelei,

I fear I have undertaken too much. I am writing this in a small tavern on the outskirts of town, and soon I will procure passage home, disgraced.

The vampire I would hunt was only toying with me, and now I find myself hunted. My only hope is to slip out of the thing's influence and return to my humble beginnings.

I no longer hold any hope of returning as the man you deserve, so I will be satisfied with being the thatcher whose services you may sometimes require and nothing more. If I return at all.

And if I do not, remember me well.

Once yours but no longer,

Pitre

25th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

* * *

* * *

(Journal of Raben Amsel)

62nd of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

The members of this village have been most begrudging in their assistance so far. I suspect this is due to my orders to exhume the poor thatcher, but it is something I have sensed since my arrival.

The only person who seemed to have any idea of where Pitre received his mortal wound was his betrothed, but she has fled the village to join a local monastery. After some pressure, her father finally allowed me to search her meager possessions.

It was in his letters to her that I have found my next destination: Erdwal, in Nephalia. Even as I write this, the stable-boy is preparing my horse and the house mother is packing my things. I haven't a minute to lose, as each that passes cools the trail.

* * *

(Letter from Thatu Reiniger)

15th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

Albrecht,

What delicious temptation I reside in!

This town has proven to be peopled with paradox. If the weapon is as Reika describes, it will be most useful to us. But oh for a mortal to test it out on! My complicity with the local nobility means that I cannot kill indiscriminately, and must only feed on the willing. Can you imagine that?

Last night my thralls at the city gates told me of a country rube that has come to town bent on my destruction. They have even seen him training with that insane priest!

What a gift that has fallen into my lap...a stranger who nobody here would miss, and sweeter still, has given me a reason to destroy him! Oh, to be back on the hunt again!

I believe I shall let him find me, let him think that he might succeed in his star-crossed quest. Disappointment makes the blood so delicious.

For your part, get the casks, troughs and hooks ready. If this sword does what I'm told it does, we shall soon have use for them.

In gilded eternity,

Thatu

* * *

(Journal of Raben Amsel)

75th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

I arrived in Erdwal two days ago. As distasteful as it may have been, I chose to use subterfuge to gain entrance to the town. Pitre's letters suggested that he had been accosted by thieves upon entrance; I therefore chose to enter on foot, wearing my tabard alone. To the complacent eye, I appeared to be a simple pilgrim or humble farmer, which is precisely the effect I wished to generate.

I was not disappointed.

The light of law has too many shadows in this town. No sooner had I entered that I was stopped by some grimy men wearing ragged uniforms that suggested their original owners had no further need for them.

I knew their greed would be my ally, so I had fixed a large pack to carry over my shoulder. Sure enough, this made me quite a target. They even abandoned their pilfering of a young woman to set their sights on me! Little victories such as this help feed my hungry soul.

"Halt!" their leader cried out to me. "Surrender your parcels for inspection!"

I stopped and said nothing. My silence was a noose that would trap them. The others surrounded me, and as their leader reached for my kit, I stiffened. This caused a ripple of fear to course through them, quickly hidden by their nervous laughter. These rogues were clearly not used to resistance.

"Fine. To the gaol with this one!" This is what I wanted; to lure them away from their familiar ground. I was grabbed by both elbows and pushed down a nearby alleyway. This was my chance.

Pulling the hidden sword from my robes, I rained blow after blow of righteous fury upon them. I shall write more tomorrow. Tonight I shall spend in prayer.

Raben

* * *

(Letter from Father Jofridus)

My son Raben,

I hope this letter finds you well. I heard of your victory in Kessig. Yes, many cathars fought at your side. But you were the strategist. The church is truly fortunate to have a warrior of your character and caliber.

I must call on you again, Raben. It's been a while since I burdened you with a quest. Perhaps you thought it was finally over. I know these missions are difficult and lonely. But they are crucial to our cause. It is absolutely necessary that you bring this evil weapon back to the church. As before, you are the only one that I trust with a matter of such delicacy.

The sword is named The Bloodletter. Flesh split by this blade never ceases to bleed, even after death. A demon has his eye on this sword. If he were to obtain it, it would mean the end of our church and our way of life.

Rumors of such a wound have reached my ears. The man's name was Pitre, and he hailed from Hanweir in Gavony. Discover where—and by whom—he was wounded, and follow the trail to The Bloodletter.

May Avacyn be with you on your journey.

Your loving father,

Jofridus

45th of Hunter's Moon, the year of Avacyn 719

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Reika Eberhardt)

Your most excellent Master Thatu,

I have something sure to interest one of your power and discerning taste. A relic of ancient power. Something so potent that it has been hidden away by those who one day hope to channel its power.

If this interests you, meet me at midnight on the 14th. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Yours in humble servitude,

Reika

13th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

* * *

(Personal journal of Reika Eberhardt)

7th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

Mama always said I'd come to no good. She was right. I took the Poniard's money.

I came so close to doubling my coin at Joiva's Gamehouse. But it's all turned to ashes.

I've got nothing except twice the debt I started with. If I don't pay up, the Order of the Poniard is coming for me.

They've already put up wanted signs naming me!

* * *

(Personal Journal of Reika Eberhardt)

10th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

But I could pay my debt . . .

No. I don't dare. If the cult discovered that I'd pilfered from the secret vault, it would be more than just my blood that was forfeit. I'll have to find another way.

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Reika Eberhardt)

12th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

They found my home. Carved into my door this morning was their sign: a poniard.

I'm marked. I have 3 days, assuming someone doesn't act on one their wanted broadsheets first. After that, I'm dead.

Unless I come up with the coin. I must act, damn the cult.

* * *

(Letter from Elder Adila Rimheit)

Reika,

I am so very proud of you! You have come so far from the frightened little girl I once knew you as. I know two things: you will go on to greatness, and the instructors at Elgaud will have their hands full!

May Avacyn watch over and guide you my dear,

Elder Rimheit

116th of New Moon, Ava. 714

* * *

(Personal Journal of Raben Amsel)

76th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

A deeper sleep I have never slept, but a sleep filled with frightening dreams I did not understand. A strangely dressed old man was angry with me.

As I had chronicled yesterday, the leader of the footpads survived our alleyway battle. I placed a foot on his chest as he lay on the cobblestones, and pointed my sword at his neck. I then demanded the knowledge I sought.

Not wanting to give too much away, I began by asking about the thatcher, but this was a dead end. He had assaulted so many that trying to get the details of one of his victims was futile. To speak of the cursed blade was too dangerous, especially to this one. I could justify killing the others, as they had clearly sought to end my life, but to kill this one as he lay in such a position of weakness could not be rectified. Of course, there was no reason for him to know this.

I pressed my foot into his chest and drew my blade back, intending to knock him unconscious. He turned his head in anticipation of the blow, and it was then that I saw it: the same mark that had been carved into Pitre's body. The mark of Thatu.

"Thatu" escaped my lips in pure astonishment, and the man's eyes grew wide with recognition. Seizing upon the moment, I said "Thatu sent me." Another transgression, but I pray a necessary one.

His lips curled in horror, and he finally gave me the information I needed to know.

Thatu has traveled to Stensia, to a place called Maalfeld. Stensia being a haven for Vampires, it is likely that he is one of them. The sword must be quite a treasure to his kind.

I left the wretch sleeping off his headache in the alleyway. May Avacyn show him the way.

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

83rd of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

Encountered a group of Falkenrath Marauders a two nights ago. I've been travelling by moonlight ever since crossing the border into Stensia, in order to be alert for nocturnal enemies.

A beautiful woman knelt, bleeding, in the middle of the road. I was suspicious, but the sound of her weeping bade my horse to stop, and I dismounted. It was then that the trap was sprung.

No less than 9 vampires descended upon from the trees, while the woman's weeping turned to laughter. I was outmatched and had little recourse but to tell them why I was here.

"My quarrel is with but one of you. I seek out the Vampire named Thatu, and the blade he carries."

Their jovial faces turned quite serious, and at this I held fears that I had said too much. A tense moment passed, then the leader nodded to his band and they departed as quickly as they had appeared. The woman stared at me, wide-eyed until she joined her cohorts in the inky blackness of the forest.

I do not know if these brigands communicate with each other, but I do know that the rest of my journey to Maalfeld was unhindered. Tomorrow, I enter Thatu's castle.

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Thatu Reiniger)

36th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

I'm afraid Albrecht is no more.

I had met him in Stensia, as was our plan, and showed him the magical sword. He reached for it, taking it in his hand blade-first. As he hefted its weight, the blade slid through his grasp, cutting his hand. The sight was almost comical.

Albrecht smiled, then his expression melted into one of anguish. His wounded hand began to shrink and shrivel. Slowly, his body shriveled up as if every drop of blood in him was being sucked out. A scream escaped his lips and he fell to the floor, the silver blade clanging against the stones.

To the living, this blade causes eternal bleeding. To the eternal, it causes final death. Albrecht's calamity has revealed the sword's true power to me. Perhaps they will finally give me a seat on the council.

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

85th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

A sleepless night followed by a sleepless day. Last night I met the vampire named Thatu.

I found his estate to be suspiciously unguarded. The dust-riddled skeletons of dead vampires surrounded the entrance, their fanged skulls being the only evidence of their former immortality.

Father, I drew the sword you had made for me. Its sigils and lines brought a familiar comfort to this unholy place. My footfalls sounded like the march of a phalanx in the silence that surrounded me, and I was sure I would be beset upon at any moment.

I found him sitting at the end of a long, dark dining gallery, papers and books spread before him. Had I no knowledge of who he was, I might have taken pity on him. He seemed so small, sitting all alone in that massive room.

I could see the blade resting against his golden chair. Then, as if he could sense me eyeing his treasure, the creature leapt into the air and swung the sword at my chest.

The battle was hard-fought. I had learned in training that the first cut of a swordfight was the most painful. It was meant to inure us to the fear of the blade. I myself have been cut many times in battle. But now I could not allow even a single slice to get past my defenses.

His swings were wild and unfocused, and it was then that I realized he was fighting for his dignity, not for his life. For reasons I still cannot fully understand, this creature wanted me to kill him. Strangely, this revelation made him less of an enemy to me, but an enemy nonetheless.

I pray for Avacyn's forgiveness, for I obliged his wish. As he lay on the tiled floor looking up at me, he said words that haunt me still: "This is the blade that will kill your father. Bringing it to him will seal his fate!"

* * *

(Letter from Samson, vampire guard captain)

84th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

Einrich,

For years, you have been loyal to your lord Thatu. Out of respect for this service, I do not ask you what I'm about to lightly. But you have seen the path Thatu would lead us down. That sword is cursed, and it can only lead to all our doom. None of us should hold that much sway over the blood. We must work together to eradicate it.

You've done well to protect your lord all these years, but now you must act to protect our kind. Or rather, not act. Even now, a human crusader travels to confront Thatu. I do not know if he is protected by faith or just unfathomably stupid, but I have heard the whispers just as you have: he may be able to triumph where we could not. Ironic that his human weakness should prove a strength against that foul blade.

Under normal circumstances, this human couldn't get within half-a-day's journey without your righteous guards feasting on his "stout" heart, but these are not normal times. You must offer no resistance to this human. Let him find your lord in his chambers and issue his challenge.

When Thatu falls . . . if Thatu falls, you would be welcomed back into our house as a hero, brother.

Samson

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

87th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

This sword is a most unnatural object. I have covered it in a swatch of leather so that there will be no possibility of accidental contact. The times that I have touched its surface, it felt warm and alive, pulsing with evil energies.

I was severely fatigued after the battle with the creature, but I had the presence of mind to confiscate some of its papers that lay spread out on the table. I knelt in prayer, thanking Avacyn for my victory, and then walked out as easily as I walked in. I do not pretend to understand these creatures, nor their enigmatic motives, but clearly I have been allowed entry into this realm, and I was allowed out.

I made camp a few hours ago, as the sun rose. I rifled through the pages I took from Thatu, trying to divine some meaning from their bombastic prose, when a single word leaped off the parchment and pierced my mind: Reika.

She was a fellow initiate at Elgaud, and was dismissed under charges of theft. I did not believe them at the time, for I had known her to be a gentle soul that was still fierce in battle. Has she fallen so far?

I must return to Erdwal and find her. I will give her the benefit of the doubt until I can hear her own account of things.

* * *

* * *

(Letter from the mayor of Trostad)

Bishop Dartan:

This is the fourth letter I've sent to Thraben Cathedral in search of assistance. There will not be a fifth. Actually, I am hoping I live long enough to complete this letter.

On the west side of Trostad, near the graveyard, a vile ghoulcaller named Gisa practices her foul arts, raising the bodies of our loved ones into twisted undead horrors. On the east side of the city, her brother Geralf is holed up in some laboratory he has created inside the smithy. He is not just raising our ancestors whole, he is stitching together skaabs, some as tall as three men, bent on utter destruction.

They are fighting each other and they shall not stop! You must make them stop! Why are they fighting here? Our city is almost lost. Please, send cathars. All of them.

Jolen, mayor of Trostad

44th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 716

* * *

(Invitation from Thatu)

Friends,

I know that my name is not spoken of highly in your houses. Perhaps not at all. But I assure you, that is all about to change. Bear with me; this missive may be overly exuberant, but I daresay that once you know of my news, you shall see such excitement is justified.

For centuries, the humans' church has protected them, restricting your hunting and feeding activities. Your bloodthirst has been muted; your birthright squandered. No longer! Their protection wanes and weakens, and the time for vampire ascendance is now. I will lead the charge!

How many times have you captured and fed upon an attractive young human, only to kill them because they proved to be malnourished or careless or some other excuse? It is tiresome and annoying, yes? But what if I told you that you could now feed eternally on a single victim? What if I told you that I have found the way to dominate the blood trade forever?

In three days, I will be hosting a gathering of all vampire lords in the region to secure our future. Under my leadership, the days of mere survival will quickly come to an end. Under my guidance, vampires will dominate not just parts of Innistrad, but all of it. Under my sword, those who would oppose us will paint the ground red.

Join me.

Thatu

38th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

92nd of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

I arrived in Erdwal just past midday. I rode through the gates on horseback, wearing my Cathar's tabard with my sword at my side. I saw the group that had accosted me upon my previous entry, though their leader, Thatu's thrall, was nowhere to be seen.

Thoughts of Reika plague me. I cannot help but think that I could have done more to help her avoid the path that she is on. Perhaps if I had been a more attentive friend. Perhaps if I had returned her feelings.

In the end, each person's soul is weighed alone, so I cannot bear hers as well as mine. She needs no help on the battlefield, so I cannot presume she needed my help before. But still, am I not here to hold up the worthy to Avacyn?

I shall begin the search in the morning. Tonight I seek a cell in the odd structure that passes for a church in this town.

* * *

(Personal journal of Reika Eberhardt)

30th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 716

I've shamed myself. I stole something from a merchant today. Just a pretty trinket, nothing that I need. I've never stolen anything before. I don't even understand why I did it. What is happening to me?

* * *

(Letter from Geralf, necromancer of the moors and brother to Gisa)

My dear Gisa,

Must you always cheat?

We AGREED on rules of conduct. The Five Laws of NecroWarfare:

1. No spontaneous awakenings.
2. No luring, killing, and raising of bystanders or livestock.
3. Combatants face off at a predetermined place and time.
4. Combatants must have at least three limbs to play.
5. Headquarters are off limits.

You cannot raise ghouls mid battle! You must send your army to meet me in the valley. Do not flank me! Do not sneak up behind me!

Legless torsos do not count as soldiers. My skaabs have teeth marks all over their legs from your draggy little meat sacks. Oh, I want my sextant back. And do not come into my laboratory again!

You signed in blood. So it counts.

Geralf

56th of New Moon, Ava. 717

* * *

(Letter from Raben Amsel)

Reika,

I am so glad that you received the commendation. I know that we were the final two candidates for the honor, but I truly believe it went to the one who deserved it. You are a most worthy servant of Avacyn. I look forward to training with you in the new year.

Your friend,

Raben

80th of New Moon, Ava. 715

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

93rd of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

The priest in this church has, I'm afraid, gone quite insane. He was overly joyed to see me, and he almost fell on his face in an attempt to welcome me to his church. Apparently he has not gotten a great many visits here.

He fills every moment he can with useless prattle about the gangs, and the vampire menace. Some people are a drain on the energies, and I must take care not to let him siphon more than he already has.

That is not to say that he has been useless. He was able to start me on my hunt today which has, so far, proven quite fruitful. The priest directed me to a tavern called "The Wolf's Head," complete with the stuffed head of a dog over the bar for effect. The innkeeper had seen Reika, though he was elusive as to where. He seemed afraid to tell me the truth, and not even my standing as a Cathar seemed to sway him.

Fortunately—or rather, most unfortunately in the grand scheme of things—those who do not respect the church still respect the coin. He ushered me to a corner of the tavern, swore me to not reveal him as the source of my information, and then he told me about the pits.

Reika has apparently been captured, and is working off her debts by fighting in the pits for sport. I felt a strange sort of elation at this knowledge. I know where she is, and most importantly, I know she is safe.

Woe to the foolhardy pit fighter who would underestimate her!

* * *

(Letter from Gisa, ghoulcaller of the moors)

Father,

While I mourn the loss of the manor, you cannot say I did not warn you. Geralf is a simpering, insane idiot. If it had not been a fire, it would have been an explosion. You should have forbade his alchemical experiments years ago and locked him in the attic.

And no, he did not get the body parts from me. As you know, I would never share any choice bits with that priggish little snot. Maybe he stole them—I thought I recognized Meyer's severed arm. But he should not have been in the basement anyway. I have warned him many times to listen or I would cut off his ears.

It was around 3:30 when one of his second-rate skaabs came lurching into Mother's parlor. Father, it was laughably pathetic. It stumbled into the fireplace and lit the room ablaze. Poor little Geralf scampered about the room like a squirrel without even the brains to stamp out the sparks.

I wanted a baby sister! With a red ribbon in her hair. Why did you ruin our lives with HIM?

Your firstborn by an hour,

Gisa

45th of New Moon, Ava. 715

* * *

(Letter from Reika Eberhardt)

Dear Elder Rimheit,

Thank you for your kind letter. Of course I understood why you didn't come to my graduation. I would never expect you to come back to Thraben. Not after what happened to Elsi. I think of her every full moon. I wish I had gotten to meet your beautiful red-haired daughter.

I seek your council. You know how I loved my studies at Elgaud Grounds. And I was honored for the placement to the cathedral. But I feel lost here. No one guides me. Everything is formal and cold. I'm so close to the angels—I see them daily soaring above the cathedral. But the light of Avacyn has never felt so far away.

Your faithful student,

Reika

17th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 716

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

94th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

I am on the road once again. Or I should say, we are on the road.

Last night I found Reika fighting in the pit, just as the innkeeper had described. I wore my travel attire so as to not arouse suspicion. I paid my entry fee and sat as Reika made short work of a mountain of a man wielding two hammers. While it was good to see that my old friend had not forgotten her lessons from Elgaud, the joy of the crowd at this vulgar proceeding left me most unsettled. There is enough free misery in this world. To profit from it seems a special sort of blasphemy to me.

Finding her after the fight proved almost futile. I had to show the pitmaster my patents, and once again set a bargain with an enemy. I would not disclose his blood-ridden enterprise, and he would permit me to take Reika with me.

Our reunion was one part joy mixed with two parts urgency, for she had much to tell me. Her revelation spurred me to leave Erdwal immediately, and to take the most direct route possible to Thraben Cathedral. This route takes us straight through the moors. Not ideal, but my father must hear what I have heard.

[THE FOLLOWING IS WRITTEN HASTILY]

Reika is calling for me.

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Reika Eberhardt)

31st of Harvest Moon, Ava. 716

I did it again. Coins from Cathar Trinar. He acts like I am beneath him. Like I am only Kessig scum. He comes from a landed family in Nearheath. A few coins mean nothing to him. I never knew how arrogant people from Gavony really are.

* * *

(Letter from Geralf, necromancer of the moors)

My dear Gisa,

I cannot abide your poor sportsmanship any longer.

I am adding a new rule to the Rules of NecroWarfare:

6. No magical swords.

If you have one, then I should have one. But, as you know, I DO NOT. I implore you, sister. Your wretched sword ruins everything.

Geralf

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Geralf, necromancer of the moors)

Dear Father Whom I Adore,

You taught me to speak frankly, and I have always heeded your advice. It was Gisa's fault. She alone burned down our ancestral manor.

It pains me to reveal your only daughter's true nature. You always gave her the best in life, far better than me. But I was happy to be the shadow to her blazing sun.

You must not blame yourself that one of your offspring (her!) took such a macabre interest in the grave. Nor was it a tainted bloodline, for I share that blood, and I have none of the obsessions of ghoulcalling.

Here is the stark truth: I heard a bloodcurdling scream coming from the basement. Gisa sprinted up the stairs with a ghoul swiping at her heels. I fought bravely as she cowered, but it overcame me. It was only by sheer force of will that I was able to carry Gisa out on my shoulders as it smashed the room to bits—the scraps igniting a fire—which sadly took the entire manor.

Please father. Punish Gisa for her gruesomeness if you must, but permit me back into the fold.

Your ever obedient son,

Geralf the Third

45th of New Moon, Ava. 715

* * *

(Letter from Father Jofridus)

34th of New Moon, Ava. 704

Greetings Master Cathar,

I commend you on the quality of last year's graduating class. The martial academy of Elgaud remains the sharpest sword in Avacyn's armory because of your unwavering service.

Which is why I am writing.

I implore you to admit the young man bearing this letter, and train him as a disciple of Avacyn. I have looked into his heart. I have seen all that he is, and all that he could be. He is an ideal candidate for Elgaud. In him I foresee a future cathar who may eventually stand with the Church's finest champions.

I saved him from brutal life of thieving on the streets, a life about to end dangling from a militia's hanging rope. I saved him in the name for the Church. For that, prayers to Avacyn now spring from his lips. I want the same to be true for a weapon to his hands, wielded in her name. Please do me this favor, and more: treat him as if he were my own son.

Father Jofridus, Citadel of Avacyn

* * *

(Letter from Gisa, ghoulcaller of the moors)

Must you always whine?

I agreed to nothing.

1. I shall raise ghouls anytime I wish. You are just mad because you have to run back to your sewing machine while I can just whistle them up from the grave.
2. If a farmer is stupid enough to check out a creepy light, then he deserves to be killed with a shovel and become my servant.
3. A predetermined place and time? What is this, a tea party?
4. Those so-called "meat sacks" are models of efficiency. You cannot even make a skaab walk without giving it 17 different body parts.
5. I didn't take your stupid sextant.

As always, you lack the brains of an infant,

Gisa

58th of New Moon, Ava. 717

P.S. I never said it was my blood.

P.P.S I want Father's book. Kill as many of my emissaries as you like. I shall make more until you hand it over. And next time, they will be bringing gifts.

* * *

(Letter from Gisa, ghoulcaller of the moors)

Geralf,

I like my sword. When I hold it, I can feel it breathing. It is glorious. And you will never get your dirty little fingers on it.

In fact, I am holding it right now. And it puts me in the mood for a festive new game called Kill the SkaabMob.

Give up. You lose.

Gisa

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

95th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

We have finally found respite in this strange land. I had known the moors to be a dangerous place; but I had not known this first-hand. My last entry was interrupted by Reika shouting at me, and as I emerged from the cairn we had made camp in, I saw why.

We were beset on all sides by every manner of walking dead. Twisted, vile creatures writhed and moaned as they lurched towards us. Some had been stitched together to form unholy abominations, while others were just pitiful folk who had not been permitted the blessed sleep.

I had learned how to fight these creatures when I trained at Elgaud, but I had never met them in battle. Their sad gurgling noises frayed at my nerves, but I summoned my energies and hefted my sword. I could not tell how many there were, but my training taught me to fight the enemy in front of me before fighting unseen ones. With a shout, I entered the fray.

I would like to report that I had laid waste to the unbreathing horde, but this was not to be. I cut many of them down, but their numbers seemed to be ceaseless, and for each body I returned to the ground there were three to take its place.

I lost track of Reika, but she had evidently ran back into the cairn. When I finally found her again, she was wielding the Bloodletter. My anger welled up inside of me, but was soon surpassed by awe: the sword was especially effective against the undead. Whenever its cursed blade touched a zombie, the thing fell to the ground instantly, shriveling up as if the sun had baked it. Reika cut a gory swath through our enemies, and I have to admit to being struck by her beauty as she waded through the sea of claws and teeth. Perhaps this is why the vampires would not attack me in Stensia.

My rhapsodic episode would be short lived; for no sooner had I witnessed the gruesome effectiveness of the weapon, than a huge rotting fensnake darted towards her, took the sword in its panoply of teeth and slithered away like lightning. I felt the ground beneath me shift as the object of my quest disappeared in to the night.

No doubt we would have been overwhelmed, but for the kindness of Geralf, a young man of these parts. He ran to us waiving a torch, and the undead seemed to be dazzled by his sudden appearance. He has taken us back to his manor house and given us shelter for the night.

Father, I fear all of this has been in vain. I pray that Reika's knowledge of the blasphemy under Thraben Cathedral will not reach your ears too late.

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Reika Eberhardt)

96th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

I almost lost Raben's sword. It was pure luck that we got it back. As always, everything I do is a failure. Have my mistakes marred me forever? Do good men like Raben look at me and know what I am? My shame feels heavy and endless, like a yoke I will never be free from.

Despite the uncertainty, I am more hopeful than I have been in ages. If I help Raben, perhaps the church will forgive me. Perhaps I could be reinstated as a cathar. I see the way Raben looks at me sometimes. But then he quickly looks away. Perhaps once we have completed this task, I will be worthy to hold his gaze.

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

Deposition of Reika Eberhardt
Taken this 98th of Hunter's Moon
In the year of Avacyn 719
By Cathar Adept Raben Amsel

It was near the 40th of Harvest moon back in 716. I had been sent to Thraben Cathedral after completing my training at Elgaud at the beginning of the year. I had grown tired of the sterile routine of the place, and I began wandering the grounds at night.

It was on such a night that I noticed a man walking behind one of the ruined statues in the ash garden and not emerge as expected moments later. I went to the statue and could not find anything suspicious. I then noticed that the stones at the statue's base had been moved recently, and it was underneath them that I found the passageway.

The small tunnel went down for a ways, then leveled off and went in a direction that I believed to be straight towards the cathedral. I crept along cautiously, since the whole place felt cold and unnatural. When I came to the tunnel's end, I saw a huge chamber that looked like a natural cave. I could hear water but I did not see any.

In the center of the chamber, I saw nine men wearing robes. They were surrounding an altar and chanting in a language I did not understand. One of them raised a dagger, and brought it down quickly. I then heard a scream. I became very frightened and ran out of the cave.

Two nights later I returned. The men were gone, but I saw the fruits of their labor: several weapons, carved out of a type of silver I have never seen.

I swear an oath that these are my words, and that they bear the truth.

[SIGNATURE OF REIKA EBERHARDT]

* * *

(Personal journal of Reika Eberhardt)

38th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 716

I have taken to wandering the cathedral grounds at night. The other students gather in the Buttery, but they do not like me. I wish Raben was here, but in the end he did not seem to like me either.

Tonight I will investigate the ash garden.

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

97th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

It has been a long two days, but we are on the road to Thraben once more, sword in hand.

I had explained to Geralf the importance of getting the sword back, and he explained that it must now be in the hands of none other than his sister. She was an insane necromancer, he explained, and had been terrorizing the moors with her army of undead for years. He was merely here to stem the tide of her designs and eventually stop her.

Our ally gave us food and shelter, and I admit I have never dined so well in all my days. I tried to sleep, to rest after the battle at the moors, but my brain was plagued by my failure.

Last night, we were invited to a feast by our gracious host, and at this feast we would learn the true nature of our benefactor. We were led into a grand hall, with a long dining table set in the middle of it. I expected the hall to be filled with the village's inhabitants, and in the strictest sense of the term, I was correct. Geralf announced our presence with a flourish, and our would-be dinner companions looked up from their plates.

Each one was a stitched congregation of stolen parts, an arm here, a lip there. Some had been made to resemble the humans they once were, while others were more grotesque sculptures of flesh, with four arms or twin torsos.

Geralf beamed with pride, and clearly sought our approval at such a display. Reika made no noise, but as I glanced at her I could tell we shared the thought: it was time to leave.

I had to decide how to extract ourselves from this ridiculous event without raising this insane man's ire. As fate would have it, the decision was made for me. The windows suddenly shattered, and another dripping horde of undead poured through.

This time, they were accompanied by a woman I could only assume was Geralf's sister, since she was wielding the Bloodletter and shouting commands to her army. Once she saw Geralf, her anger took a new focus.

She demanded a book—pointing at the mantle where indeed, a skin-covered book was set, open to a page covered in crimson symbols. The undead of both sides commenced to battle while the two siblings began to partake in childish bickering over who owns the book.

Reika took this chance to simply walk over and grab the book, dangling it over the fire. Brother and sister stopped their argument and both let out a shriek that stopped each of their undead armies mid-swing.

"Give Raben the sword or your precious book will be no more than ashes!"

Perhaps there is hope for Reika yet.

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Reika Eberhardt)

Dear Elder Rimheit,

I desperately need your help. I found something here in Thraben. It is something that I must talk to you about as soon as I can. Please, can you send me coin to come home?

Your faithful student,

Reika

39th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 716

* * *

(Personal Journal of Raben Amsel)

99th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

I cannot be sure if I am being objective when it comes to Reika. It is true that she had feelings for me back in our days of training at Elgaud. I have never admitted before that I had the same feelings. I only write this now so that my words can be judged alongside the heart that wrote them.

If I were but a simple thatcher, I could have lived a life with her.

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

101st of Hunter's Moon, 719.

Time is not measured by days, but by who we were when it passed us.

I write these words yet I do not know why. What is the purpose? All that I know has been an illusion. I have built my house on a pile of stinging salt.

Is this real? They say the dead dream too. Perhaps I am dreaming.

If I am dead, then I am haunting these pages with the truth. If I am alive, the truth will haunt me forever.

Where to begin? We arrived in Thraben yesterday, and I bade Reika to wait in the narthex while I gave Jofridus the sword. How strange it is to write his name now.

He touched my brow in blessing, then took the cursed sword and set it on his desk. I then told him I had far worse news, and that he should hear it from a witness. I called Reika into Jofridus's chamber.

Those were the last minutes of my former life.

She walked through the door, and from the look on her face, I knew that something was terribly wrong. "YOU!" she shouted, and before I could react, she lunged across the room at Jofridus.

I expected him to be surprised at this sudden attack, but he looked completely unshaken, as if he expected it.

"I saw you kill that woman under the cathedral!" Reika was shaking with anger, as she took Jofridus by the shoulders and began shaking him. To my astonishment, Jofridus grasped her by the throat and threw her to the ground as if she was made of paper. How could such an old man display such strength? I would soon find out.

I made a step to intervene, but it was a step too late. Reika jumped back up and charged him. Jofridus calmly removed the sword from its leather wrappings, and thrust it through her belly.

I still do not know if the scream I heard was hers or mine.

I will not write anymore tonight. I would pray, but I've wasted enough breath.

I think I hear them coming. Perhaps I will let them find me.

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Raben Amsel)

Reika,

I have heard unbelievable rumors about you. I am loath to listen to idle chatter, as you know. But I am concerned about you. I heard you were accused of theft. I refuse to believe that you are capable of it.

There is a man at Thraben Cathedral who I consider to be my father. His name is Jofridus, and I urge you to seek him out and ask his counsel. He will be able to help you with this matter.

I am sorry for the way we parted. I should have answered your letter. Of course I consider you my friend, Reika. But I have pledged my life to Avacyn and serving the church. I cannot let anything distract me, or I fear I would fall, once again, into ruin.

Your friend,

Raben

57th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 716

Category: Undeliverable

Signed: Master Hantsen, postmaster of Thraben.

* * *

(Letter from unknown sender)

118th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 718

H,

K.R.'s wife came to see me today. She says he was taken by the militia last night. They have him in the stocks outside the River Barracks. She will plead to the Master Cathar this morning. So far, she does not want me to intervene.

Please notify I. B. and Whip. I will arrange for a food package to be delivered to the barracks.

Watch yourself, friend.

A.R.

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Holger Burk, Master Silversmith)

41st of Harvest Moon, Ava. 718

My Dearest Adalee,

Another success! I know my absence has been trying—for both of us—but I believe that another 20 days of travels will ensure that I will not need to leave our home for another year!

My bargain with the Thalbergs has reached a conclusion, and now I must take the news, and contracts, to their associates along the Kappel road on the outskirts of Kessig. Werewolf attacks have been increasing steadily, and they need my wares and knowledge to help them survive.

I know what you must be thinking, and yes, it is not a trip without risks. But think of the reward! To be able to spend a harvest festival and New Moon feast with you and the children, and all the days in between! Jana and Mikel have not had a pair of birthdays without my taking leave in between them. I miss them, and you, dearly.

Whenever I see moonlight sparkling on the ring I wear, I know that yours must be sparkling too.

I love you always,

Holger

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Bishop Waechter, of Thraben Cathedral)

66th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 711

Elder Rimheit,

Your station may not be as remote as you would think. Word has reached us regarding your efforts toward finding a cure for lycanthropy. We find this disturbing, indeed. Rumors of werewolves taking sanctuary within your parish are now common amongst the populace. This cannot be abided. As a representative of the Church of Avacyn, it is your duty to protect us against such evil, not offer it asylum.

Given your family history, it is understandable why you would take this course of action, and I am sure your goals are honorable. However, it is dangerous and irresponsible. You must cease this activity at once and take steps to secure your walls.

Inquisitor Mauer has requested permission to investigate. I have advised him that is will not be necessary. I trust you would agree.

Bishop Waechter

Church of Avacyn

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

101st of Hunter's Moon, 719

I had thought that my training with the church had lifted me above my criminal upbringing. Now that I am a fugitive, I have returned to those treacherous ways all too quickly. Today I have lied, and I have stolen. We are all fruit that is never very far from the tree.

I fear I must write more of what happened that night in Jofridus's chambers. Perhaps a stronger man than I will someday read these words, and he must hear the truth. I mourn the veil of denial that used to cloak me in its comforting warmth.

After he murdered Reika, Jofridus turned to me with a fervor I had never seen before burning in his eyes. I was stunned into silence, a shame I carry still. Reika deserved a better eulogy than that.

My world was slowly shifting under my feet. I felt as if I could not stand. My face was wet with tears, and yet a smoldering anger was welling up inside of me. Jofridus could see it in my face, and he made a move to step between me and Reika's crumpled body.

Let her go, he said, let her go and join me. You can fight for Avacyn for millennia, for eternity, he said. He peeled back his vestments to reveal a twisted metal yoke that had burned its way into the flesh around his neck and chest. I have one for you, he said, all you have to do is take it. Take it and live forever.

Living for an eternity suddenly seemed like a damnable chore.

No words could find their way across my lips. I simply turned my back on him. He shouted for his guards, and declared me heretic. He said he had proof that I had been worshipping demons underneath the cathedral. It was this final act of betrayal that left no doubt in my mind that the man I had thought of as my father all these years—the man that had pulled me from the dirt and gave me this life—that man was dead. In his place was this thing in front of me.

I realized that there could be no proving my case in Thraben. The cathedral that I had been named after would be a prison if I was to stay. I had no choice but to run. And run is what I have done these past days.

If there is an Avacyn, may she guide me to justice.

* * *

(Letter from Adila Rimheit)

64th of New Moon, Ava. 699

Bishop Martyn,

I have given our discussion careful consideration. While I appreciate your concerns, I am resolved to accept the position of parish priest in North Kessig. Given the recent tragedy in my family, I am inclined to return to the province of my birth and the place where my family takes their Blessed Sleep.

Hardship has not lessened by faith. I assure you that the death of my daughter will not affect my service to Avacyn. In fact, I now understand the church in a way I never did before.

Adila Rimheit,

Priest of Kessig

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Holger Burk)

54th of Harvest Moon, Ava 718

My Dearest Adalee,

I fear my trip will take longer than I expected. The werewolf attacks of the last full moon decimated three of the villages along the Kappel road, and I barely escaped with my life.

Fear not my love! I fought as bravely as you would expect, and am now convalescing while my minor wounds heal. It may be harvest moon before I can return. I also may find it difficult to write anymore, as all couriers have stopped riding through this area. It was only by sheer chance that I found the fleeing merchant who will hopefully deliver this to you.

I know this may sound bleak, but I will be walking through the door of our manor before your tears have dried on this page, I promise you! Until then, kiss Jana and Mikel on the forehead for me, and tell them their father loves them very much.

Forever your husband,

Holger

* * *

(Personal journal of Adila Rimheit)

104th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

Reika is dead. Just like Elsi, she died without me. She died in Thraben, that wretched city of sorrows. I wish I could curse it and shatter its walls. I would turn it into a lair for werewolves, if I could.

Like Elsi, her body is lost. The world devours my daughters and spits horrors back into my face. Yet I sit staring at the wall, these words like blood pouring from my fingertips. I hate myself for lingering here. And yet, what should I do? Throw myself upon the ground and weep? Blame Avacyn? Mourn all the murdered who prowl the endless night? No, that path is the death of the soul.

Find hope, stand up, and help the ones you can.

* * *

(Letter from Elsi Rimheit, daughter of Adila Rimheit)

118th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 699

Dear Mama,

I miss you! Grandfather says we will go to Thraben soon, but I'd rather you just come home. We went picking blackberries yesterday. Remember last year when I filled two buckets? This year I filled three! Grandfather says you would have been proud of me.

There were wolves outside last night. I could hear them snuffling on the other side of my wall. I was so scared without you. Grandmother tucked me in, but she doesn't make the blankets the way you do.

Please come home soon!

Love,

Elsi

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

102nd of Hunter's Moon, 719

I have found refuge in a small village in Kessig. I don't know its name. I sold the sword Jofridus had made for me, and I have found room and board above a stable.

It was here that I finally opened Reika's pack and inspected its contents. I told myself that I was looking for money, or any item that could aid in my survival, but the truth is that I simply missed her. Her cloak still smelled of her, like flowers after a rain. Reika, I failed you so long ago, and only now do I feel the pain of your absence.

Her journal revealed to me a name: Elder Rimheit. Reika clearly saw her as a mother figure, even though like me she never knew her true roots. I hope this Rimheit proves to be a true mentor, and not like the puppet father I once knew.

Word of my status has not yet reached Kessig, so I must act quickly. This elder may hear my words differently if she knows I am branded heretic. But hear my words she must, for Reika's death cannot go untold. This woman, whomever she may be, was the closest thing Reika had to a family. As such, she deserves to mourn Reika as much as I do. No, I have not earned the right to mourn her yet.

In the morning I shall leave this place and seek out Elder Rimheit.

* * *

* * *

(Letter from unknown sender)

121st of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 718

H.

Disregard my former correspondence. They are using K.R. as a detector at the village gate. They are searching for false silver. Please advise me on the ramifications for us. Or better yet, come as soon as you get this.

A.R.

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Jorgin Rimheit, father of Elder Rimheit)

23rd of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 699

Adila,

We will be in Thraben in less than two days. Elsi has been afflicted. Bitten or wounded by an abomination. The priest has already accused her. We must get her out of Kessig.

I'm bringing you your daughter, and by the power of church, you must protect her.

Your father,

Jorgin Rimheit

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

103rd of Hunter's Moon, 719

Ereschstag, the town of Elder Rimheit's parish, was a short ride on a stolen horse. I never thought I would be chronicling my own crimes, yet once this is over I will gladly hand over the evidence of my sins and pay the price. It is the only way I can redeem my name.

I found the church easily enough, as a group of pilgrims were marching in slow progression towards it. I fell in line with them, and walked that lonely walk that is only possible when surrounded by strangers. Twilight was taking over as the sun lost yet another battle with the moon.

To my surprise, the procession turned just before it was about to ascend the church's steps, instead filing into a gated opening leading to the catacombs underneath. A strange custom of Kessig, was all I thought upon entering.

I heard a metal clanking sound ahead of me, and that was when I noticed that the catacombs had been refitted to form some sort of prison. Stranger still, this sullen congregation had begun locking themselves in, one per cell.

So much twisted reality had assaulted my brain over the past few days that I can never be sure if I am dreaming or not. It was then that one of the self-imposed prisoners spoke.

"You don't belong here. I suggest you leave—for your own sake!"

Just then I heard the unmistakable sound of stone grinding on stone, and I looked down the ragged hallway to see a heavy door rolling into place. I started to run, but it was futile. I would soon learn the nature of this charnel house.

It started as an agonizing scream. The people in the cells began to twitch and convulse, as gurgling noises permeated the cavern. The man who had warned me was now staring intently at me, as the body around his eyes began to twist and contort.

The sickly sound of ligament being torn and flesh being stretched was unbearable. As disgusting as it was, I could not look away. I watched as the man's humble form twisted and bent into that of the werewolf. The screams and gurgles were soon replaced by howls.

At every cell, clawed hands slashed at the air, intent on flaying the flesh from my bones. I had fought these creatures before, but only when the numbers favored us. Now I was but one piece of meat in a hall of hunters.

The jail bars had clearly been reinforced to contain these things, but I did not know if it would contain their strength at being so close to food.

I found myself kneeling in prayer. Perhaps I have not lost all of my faith.

In the morning, the guards that rolled the stone door open greeted me with a blow to the head.

* * *

* * *

(Letter from Adalee Burk)

76th of Hunter's Moon, Ava 718

Holger,

I received all the letters I wrote you, unopened. Why have you shunned me so? I know about your condition, and I do not care. I want my husband back—your children want their father! I know you think you are protecting us, but at least break this curse of silence and write to me!

The common wisdom is that there is no cure for werewolves. But who are we to make such definitive statements, when so much in our world remains undiscovered?

I have scoured the library, and have made as many inquiries as I dare, and have come up with a possibility. There is a church in Kessig that is rumored to be harboring werewolves, giving them shelter and also looking for a cure! I beg you, find your way to Ereschstag, for it is believed to be there. They have not yet found a cure, but if you would only stay there perhaps you can benefit from their research.

You see my love? This need not be the end of our story. There is hope.

Hope is all we have. My hope of seeing you again helps me to keep a brave face for our children.

Your Adalee

* * *

For Crimes against
THE HOLY CHURCH OF AVACYN
Consisting of
Aiding and abetting a known Werewolf
Bearing false witness to a representative of the church
And fleeing justice in connection with said crimes,
JORGIN RIMHEIT
Is hereby sentenced to
DEATH
This sentenced to be carried out on
87th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 699
Where he shall be hanged by the neck until dead
Though he has turned his back on her,
May AVACYN show him mercy in death

* * *

* * *

(Personal Journal of Adila Rimheit)

104th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

I will not let grief paralyze me. I must approach this with a rational eye. Here is what I know:

We captured a man last night. I thought he was a cathar spying on our hostel. He was indeed a cathar, but he is a fugitive from the church. He calls himself Raben, named for the city of sorrows itself.

I always believed that Jofridus was a pompous, disingenuous fool. Now, I know he is far worse—a corrupt heretic. And if Raben's account is true, he murdered my daughter.

Raben saw Reika die. I think he loved her.

When I look at Raben, I want to weep. It is as if he is balancing on the sharp edge of a blade. One wrong move, and he will fall from grace.

Although Raben is fragile, inaction will be the end of him. So I gave him these commands: Go to Thraben. Capture Jofridus and take him to the Lunarch. Unveil the corruption in the belly of the church.

And bring me back my daughter.

These actions can save him. But if things go awry, only Avacyn will be able to lift his burden.

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

104th of Hunter's Moon, 719

Elder Rimheit has made her case. Make this right, she says. I know her life has not been easy, which is why such a reductive viewpoint surprises me so. It is not as simple as making things right. It never is.

What would she have me do? Expose Jofridus for the demon-worshipping traitor that he is? Grab him by his ear and drag him to the Lunarch himself? News of this treachery would likely do more damage than good. If the church's name were to be sullied, so many innocents would suffer the consequences. Whether Avacyn is real or not, the idea of her is all that is keeping humanity alive.

She wants justice. Justice for the church, for Reika, for her poor young daughter Elsi. I haven't the heart to tell her the truth; there is no justice. Nothing can make the death of a little girl right. No debt can be repaid that will even the balance. Hang a man, desecrate his corpse, enslave his spirit—will that erase his wrongs?

Justice exists only as an idea that makes the blind masses feel safe.

The only true law is that of costs. Cold, brutal economics. A man can steal as much bread as he wants, as long as he is willing to pay the price in pain and time. Murder is not evil, it is merely expensive.

By this account, Jofridus is much in debt. And soon I will collect.

Raben

* * *

(Letter from Adila Rimheit)

34th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 699

Bishop Martyn,

I implore you to stop this madness. There is no proof against my daughter. She is 8 years old! You can not condemn her based on such flimsy circumstances. She is a faithful child of Avacyn. She will grow up to be a servant of the church.

I beg you. Give me time. I will prove Elsi's innocence. Or I will find a way to heal her.

Please. She is my life.

Adila Rimheit, Ecclesiast

Thraben Cathedral

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

109th of Hunter's Moon, 719

We are making haste back to Thraben. Tonight will be the last night of full moon for this month, and we cannot spend it on the road. My newfound ally, Holger, travels with me. He is a man of some means, having been a master silversmith. His skills were made useless when he was cursed as a werewolf, and now he has taken residence at Elder Rimheit's hostel. She is hoping to find a cure. Hope is the most dangerous of all human emotions.

Our horses have collapsed, and Holger is busy acquiring fresh ones from the local stable. He has also given me armor and weapons from his own collection. Now that he has already accepted his mortality, material objects no longer hold sway over him. A gift only imminent death can give us.

His plan is simple, yet it will no doubt cost the lives of many cathars. Men who have fought beside me in battle, brave and fearsome. I try to muster guilt over their inevitable deaths, yet I cannot seem to stir my heart. Perhaps it no longer beats.

I hope to find Jofridus tonight. As dangerous as hope is, I am more dangerous still.

Raben

* * *

(Letter from Holger Burk)

109th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

Dearest Adalee,

I had feared for so long that any contact I had with you would only give you false hope of my return. Now I know that even false hope can keep a candlelight burning, and I fear that my silence has only added salt to your wounds. So here I write.

I have been living this past year in the church you told me about in your last letter. The priest here has been touched by the curse like you have—not in the flesh, but in the family. She is a kind soul, and together we have built a hostel that can contain those of my kind during the change so that they may not harm others. It is no cure, but it buys us time. This explains the stipend the exchequer may have told you about.

The cure has still eluded us. Many experiments have ended in tragedy, so much so that the priest has suspended them for the time being. Many have died, or worse, ended up like me.

There is no way out for me, my love. No way I will return to the life we once shared. I can only hope to end my days honorably, and to restore some sense of pride to our sullied name. I believe I have found a way.

The deeds to my estate are locked in the hidden box within the fireplace. What was once ours will now be yours alone. If you take your ring, and break the setting, the claws that held the gem form the key. I wanted it this way, so that if I should die you would no longer wear the ring and hopefully find happiness without the memory of my death overhanging you.

I shall take my ring with me into eternity.

Yours,

Holger

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel)

111th of Hunter's Moon, 719

My hands are cold, and I find writing to be more difficult, but I must chronicle my meeting with Jofridus.

We came upon the cathedral at dusk, and said our farewells. Holger was very calm for someone who was about to meet his fate. When and how we will die is a question that looms over us from birth, and perhaps finally having the answer was liberating for him. It certainly was for me.

I hid in a nearby wood and watched him make his slow way to the cathedral steps. He looked over his shoulder at me only once, and smiled. As hard as it was for me to pity his soon-to-be victims, I had to pity the man as well. He was kind, good and just. And this world took those from him and more.

As soon as the sun dipped out of view, I heard an unholy growl, followed by screams and shouts of orders. I watched the ground guards rush to the cathedral, and I knew this was my chance.

With my newly acquired armor, I passed for just another cathar on his way to securing this holiest of holy grounds. I found my way to the ash garden, to the stones Reika's journal had described. Underneath, the tunnel stretched away into the darkness.

At the end of path was a huge, natural cavern. I could hear the waterfall, and the air was thick with mist. Standing in the center of the chamber, next to a rune-carved altar, was Jofridus.

He was alone, and apparently expecting me. The sword was nowhere in sight, although I would be reunited with it soon enough.

"I knew you would return, my son. I have been preparing for it."

My anger had reached its boiling point. Calling me his son had ignited a fury inside me, and I drew my sword and charged him. Nothing could stop me now, no force could keep me from my purpose—none save a familiar voice uttering a single word.

"Raben?"

* * *

(Letter from Holger Burk)

108th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

Adila,

For so long, we have fought this war, side by side. I have always been so proud of the way you turned your own tragedy into a crusade. So few people have a true legacy, and yours will endure long after you are laid to rest. I have much regret in my life, but working with you and your cause is something that will be a bright spot on in the black mark of my time here.

Raben's arrival was a clarion call to me. I have so far been content to support you both morally and fiscally, yet my heart yearned for something more profound. I see in this Raben something of myself in younger years. Perhaps we are cut of the same cloth. At any rate, I have decided to offer him the help he needs.

I have waited until my departure to tell you this, because I knew you would never condone such a course of action. Even though that city of sorrows has taken so much from you, I know that your kind soul would never allow such a plan to come to fruition. So I have relieved you of the responsibility of protest.

Tomorrow night I shall say my final prayer as one condemned to a fate I have not deserved. My werewolf form will finally prove useful to a noble cause, and Raben will use the distraction I create to find the man that has dealt such a blow to him.

Tomorrow I move into the belly of the beast. I hope I will buy enough time for Raben to complete his mission. I hope I do not kill too many of those noble men who will deliver me from my curse. I hope that in doing so I have still retained your friendship and respect. Please think no less of me.

Above all, I hope that my family name will regain some of its former glory, and that when my story is someday told, it will not be in hushed whispers, but in proud toasts. For all I have is a tattered legacy, once which I feel should be patched up before being passed along. I hope you understand.

Holger

* * *

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel, continued)

It was Reika. She sat in the corner of the chamber, her beauty as radiant as ever. She wore a flowing white dress that laid in crumples around her, a simple garment that still managed to make her look regal.

I slid to a halt. The air had been knocked from my lungs, and I dropped my sword at my feet. I had no time to stop and consider how she had survived the Bloodletter's kiss, or why she was here now. All I knew was that a chasm within me seemed suddenly filled, and that I needed to take her in my arms.

I ran to her, and knelt down before her. She reached out and took my hand. My consciousness had been screaming that something was wrong, but it had been drowned out by the cacophony of emotion I was feeling. As soon as our skin touched, reality finally rammed through the portcullis in my mind.

Her skin was inhumanly warm. I flinched at her touch, and as I looked into her eyes I saw them change briefly from the misty blue I had come to know to inky blackness and back again. Whatever this was, it was not Reika. I withdrew, and the creature looked confused. As I stood up and retrieved my sword, it began to howl and scream.

It stood up, and blood began to stain the belly of the dress as the wound caused by the Bloodletter opened up again. It clawed at the soaked cloth until the wound was revealed, but this time it was ringed with teeth as a snakelike tongue lashed out from it.

The thing's eyes began to glow like stars, and its teeth grew and sharpened as it assumed its true form. Its elongated fingers ended in claws the size of spearheads, and its screech grew to a painful level.

Jofridus's revenge had backfired. This profane abuse of Reika's remains had given me a strength I had never known. For better or for worse, I was not the Raben he had last seen.

I swore an oath as I charged the thing, and it parried my blow with a sword of its own—the Bloodletter. The last time I met this cursed bit of metal in battle, I had to change my tactics in order to avoid its eternal wound. This time, I had no such misgivings. There is nothing quite as powerful as having nothing to lose.

My attack was a thunderstorm of swinging blades as I took all the anger over Reika's murder, as well as Jofridus's betrayal, and focused every ounce of it on my silver sword. The thing fought like a snake, darting and weaving, but no amount of agility would keep me from my purpose. The sound of my heartbeat was throbbing in my ears as I let out a battle cry and pounced on the vile creature, driving my blade through its chest and into the stone underneath it.

It let out a shrill cry, and began to twitch and writhe as it slowly turned back into Reika's body. Its head jerked up and locked eyes with me, and the glimmer of recognition flashed in their blue depths. As her last breath escaped her lungs, I heard her say it.

"Thank you."

I stood up, near-exhausted. My heartbeat was louder than ever, and I realized it was due to the cuts I had received from the cursed blade. I looked down and saw each one pulse with every beat of my heart, pumping forth blood. I began to feel dizzy, but then I remembered why I was there: Jofridus.

* * *

Deposition of Cathar Callan Ahnstat
Taken by Inquisitor Mauer
115th of Hunter's Moon, Ava 719

I had just begun my service, and was stationed inside the cathedral near the seventh apse, preparing to give prayers to the pilgrims. I had noticed a distinct lack of attendance that night, and I wondered if my presence was even necessary.

One of the few pilgrims that night had been kneeling at the main altar for some time. It was a practice that was common in the old days, but had been frowned upon in recent years. I took note of his aged appearance, and allowed the transgression to pass.

I did choose to move closer to him; in an effort to observe him more closely so that I may offer guidance should he need it. It was not at all unusual to have someone praying well before services commenced. People are here praying for Avacyn's return at all hours. Yet as I approached I heard the familiar syllables of the prayer of the condemned. Despite his grim gaze, he seemed as free as you or I. For a brief moment I considered asking him why he chose such an obscure prayer while so many others would have been more apt. In the end I decided that each man must decide on his own how to beseech our dear Avacyn and that it was not my place to question him.

I had taken to blessing one of the guards' shields when I first heard the scream. I rushed to the sanctuary and drew my sword. I expected a fight had broken out between some merchants or some similar nonsense. But it was no small scuffle I came upon—a hulking werewolf was rampaging amongst the pews! There were many screams and much chaos. Everyone was running, save those that were frozen in terror.

I charged forward, ready to defend my church. A werewolf within the walls of Thraben Cathedral! It was unthinkable, yet here it was, only a few feet from me. I glanced around—it seemed as if an entire banner of cathars were on the beast in mere moments. As I approached, I saw the tattered robes of the man who had been praying only moments before!

In my shock I had been stunned into complacency, and as if sensing this, the creature charged. I felt the slick, sickly walls of its throat on my arm as its mouth clamped down on my shoulder and bit it off at the joint. My brother cathars renewed their attack and the thing was finally brought down amidst the flashing of silver and steel.

As I lay bleeding on the cold stone floor of the sanctuary, I watched the thing revert to its human form. I cannot be certain, but I remember it having a smile on its face. Not one of happiness, but one of sincere relief. As if a great burden had been taken from it.

By the grace of Avacyn, he was unsuccessful in whatever purpose brought him here. I am proud to have stood with my brother Cathars in defeat of this evil, and until Avacyn's return, we remain ever vigilant.

I swear an oath that these are my words, and that they bear the truth.

[Signature of Callan Ahnstat]

Addendum: Brother Ahnstat is currently in quarantine awaiting the full moon.

Addendum the second: Brother Ahnstat has emerged from the full moon unchanged. He is hereby released back to the Cathedral service.

* * *

(Personal journal of Raben Amsel, continued)

I tried to pull my sword out of Reika's body, but it was lodged in the rock beneath her. I saw the Bloodletter lying next to her, and in one swift motion I took it by its grip and confronted the man who had taken everything from me.

For his part, he hid his fear well. He clearly had not expected me to survive my encounter with Reika's demonically possessed body. He pulled the neck of his robe open to reveal the yoke and said "You can't kill me, boy. Not even the Bloodletter can harm me now. Consider the position you are in and put that thing down!"

"Then you will not mind if I test it out!" And with that, I lunged. He jumped back, avoiding my blow but exposing his lie; the Bloodletter would do just fine.

My strength was slowly leaking out onto the floor, so I had little time. The butcher's bill of his crimes was due, and I would be the cost. I found new strength in his deception, and lunged at his frail form. At first I had thought the blade had only pierced some folds in his robes, as there was not the familiar resistance that normally accompanies flesh. But his halted scream confirmed that the Bloodletter had taken another victim.

He fell backwards, sliding off the blade and onto the stone floor of the chamber. Coughing up blood, he looked up at me and tried to speak.

"I have no need of your lies any longer." With that, I swung the blade and decapitated his pathetic form.

Drunk with blood loss, I stumbled to the floor next to him, my blood mingling with his in pools around us. I was quite ready to die there, quite ready for my story to end and perhaps to see Reika once more.

That is when I saw the yoke. With each heartbeat, it called out to me. Each one, like the last ticks of a clock, chiseled away at my thoughts. I looked at Reika's sad remains. I thought of Holger's brave sacrifice in the cathedral above me.

I knew then what I must do. Reika would go home again. Holger's family would know how he died. Both would receive the blessed sleep, and all it would cost me was my eternal soul.

I reached over to Jofridus's headless corpse, dug my fingers into his chest around the yoke, and tore it off. I used the last ounce of my strength to place it around my neck, and gasped as the unholy metal knitted and melted into my own flesh. My heartbeat slowed to a stop, and so too the bleeding. I writhed in agony as each wound closed itself up.

I was something different now.

So this book, once a place I went to for enlightenment, now becomes my epitaph. For whatever the case, whether I am evil or whether I am a coward, Raben is no more. Perhaps he never existed in the first place. Maybe he was merely something to comfort me in my blindness.

I shall write no more. There are others whose bills are due.

And I will be the cost.

Amsel

1st day, year one.

* * *

120th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

Notification of Corpse Release

By the Holy Church of Avacyn

Name of Deceased: Elsi Rimheit

Cause of Death: Accidental Blunt Trauma

Time of Death: Unknown

Origin of Deceased: Ereschtag, North Kessig

Released to: Elder Adila Rimheit

By Order of: [The order is left unsigned]

* * *

 

 

 

Magic Story Archiving: Ob Nixilis: The First World is the Hardest

Originally published on magic.wizards.com on Nov 6th 2014, it has since been removed and lost to time.  Here it is reproduced. 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When we first met Ob Nixilis, he was a fearsome—but wingless—demon, a former Planeswalker who had somehow become trapped on Zendikar. The next time we saw him on a card, he had regained some portion of his former power when the hedron shard embedded in his head was removed. Despite that, he remains unable to leave Zendikar for the time being, as shown in the Uncharted Realms story "Dreams of the Damned."

But that's Ob Nixilis's present. What about his past? The latest Commander release gives us a glimpse of what he looked like as a human Planeswalker, before he became a demon.

Today, we look even further back, to hear about the life of the man named Ob Nixilis in his own words…

---

To call the noise of battle a roar is to do it an injustice. It is a slight to the majesty of the sound. It is a symphony. The low, bass rumbling of siege engines, the pounding of trebuchet stones, silent in the sky, then crushing formations of men into scrap and paste. The clashing, soaring, screech of steel, men and beasts, monsters and worse, wave after wave of carnage.

Rising above it all, the chorus. Shouts of triumph, of fear, of pain, of rage. Thousands of voices lent to a single cause.

"My lord, our foes are preparing to retreat. Their flanks have collapsed. What are your orders?" My lieutenant bowed low. I couldn't help but notice, with no small amount of disappointment, just how clean his armor was.

"Send two divisions into the canyon, cut off the escape."

He flinched. "That will put two divisions of our most exhausted troops against their freshest. There will be heavy losses."

"And yet, we will secure the supplies we need. Do you know where we are, Lieutenant? Look around you. What do you see?"

He scanned the horizon. "I don't know, sir. A field. Stones. Some ruins."

Buried Ruin | Art by Franz Vohwinkel

"Some ruins, indeed. The people that lived in this place were called the Keocian. Their empire lasted nearly three hundred years, before they brought about the Seventh Cataclysm. They were demon-callers; the best this world had ever seen. Artisans of magic and war. Their language was a direct predecessor of our own, you know, although we adopted our modern alphabet from the Liex. They had a word that meant 'victory at any cost.' Do you know what it was?"

He shook his head.

"Victory. The distinction is for lesser souls than ours." I gestured to my squire, who handed me my helm. I rode out to the front line to join the charge.

---

When the work was done, I looked up at the soot-choked sky. The air was stale and foul, but it felt wondrous as it filled my lungs. Victory tasted sweet, no matter the circumstance.

A scout returned, her armor stained with blood, some of it hers. "Two banners approaching from the northwest, my lord. The Velanti as well as the Raximar."

I frowned. "The Velanti haven't sent word that they were going to be anywhere in the region in force. And the Raximar? How many, and how soon will they arrive?"

"A full legion, cavalry, not equipped for siege. Between their cavalry and the Velanti, we're penned in."

"We are betrayed, then. Interesting." The look of panic on the scout's face made me smile. "We made a move, and Lord Raximar made a better one. I half expected the Velanti to sell us out, but I didn't expect them to pick such an excellent time to do so."

"What do we do?"

"Nothing. If Raximar is willing to negotiate, we talk. If not, we die."

---

Lord Raximar's war tent was a demonstration of everything I hated about the man. It was a mobile court, huge and opulent. Hanging on the walls were tapestries showing accounts of his military conquests. They were factual enough, as Raximar wasn't prone to exaggeration, but the artistry was poor. Why bother to commemorate a moment if you're not willing to spend the time and effort to do it properly? Lord Raximar sat atop an actual throne, wearing his court armor. Plenty of lords did so, of course. Functional to a point, as no sane man or woman would meet another warrior unarmored. But it was a statement of how secure you felt in your home. An arrogant statement, more often than not.

Raximar was an enormous man, bearded and smiling. "Ah, Lord Nixilis. A pleasure to see you again. My apologies for the circumstances."

I had been ushered in to the room unarmed, but they didn't strip me of my armor. No small number of them would have died had they tried. I inclined my head.

He went on. "My compliments on the condition of your forces. Most orderly in surrender. You've trained them well."

"And my compliments on targeting the Velanti as a co-conspirator. Small enough to be coerced, close enough to my command to have valid intelligence, and they made quite the show of loyalty over the years—I never suspected their betrayal."

"Earl Velanti still holds you responsible for the death of his son, you know. That's all this was about."

I laughed. "I should hope he does! I expected the whelp to die, and he did. The boy was a terrible swordsman."

Raximar frowned. "There are those of us who want something better than this, Lord Nixilis. Who want to unify these people. Bring an end to the fighting. Start to build again."

"Spoken like a man who has never studied our history. Yes, there have been times of peace. Decades, even. But then we reveal our true natures again. The larger the alliance, the more brutal the collapse. And when the Cataclysm comes, and it always does, chaos comes with it. Ruin. I like my plan better."

"To rule over graveyards and blood-soaked fields?!"

I grinned.

"No matter. Your days of conquest are done. I will offer you submission, or we can conduct your execution in the morning."

I muttered seven words under my breath. Raximar shook his head as both our ears popped.

"What? I didn't hear that."

I snapped my fingers, and one of Raximar's guards shuddered. The guard took lurching, uneven steps over to me, drew his greatsword, and handed it to me. I snapped my fingers again, and the other six guards in the room all slumped, lifeless, to the floor. The wave of expended magic tasted like hot tar in the back of my throat.

Raximar drew his sword and stood, taking a moment to find his bearings. "What is this? Guards!"

I smiled. "No sound will escape this place for the next several minutes. And your closest guard? I cursed them years ago. Up until this moment, I wasn't sure whether the enchantment would hold this long. Lucky me."

Raximar looked around frantically, and said nothing.

"Here's what's going to happen. You and I are going to engage in a rite of challenge, and then I'm going to take over your forces."

He scoffed. "You've never given a moment's thought to the old codes! Rite of challenge? Ridiculous!"

"You're right, of course. It's nonsense. But you have a reputation as an honorable man. It's the sort of stupid thing you'd do. And either way, I'm going to kill you and tell the rest of your men that that's what happened. So we might as well."

Raximar slammed his helmet down over his bright red face. "You're a coward, Nixilis. If this is how you want to die, so be it."

I stepped into a back stance and leveled the tip of my greatsword at him.

"Begin."

The greatsword is an easily misunderstood weapon. A novice feels the heft and striking power of the weapon, and concludes that it rewards pure force. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is an indescribably complex tool, a lever and a thrusting wedge, and especially against a brute like Raximar, not a big metal club to be swung around as hard as you can.

Greatsword | Art by Nic Klein

Raximar was bigger, faster, and younger. He could practically use his blade one-handed, and the sheer crushing force he could generate could shatter stone and bone alike. So I let him come to me. He opened with a series of huge, reaching, diagonal cuts, and I kept my distance, just at the edge of his reach. I kept my balance low, trying to avoid the need to actually parry one of his strikes. A hard parry is as good as getting hit. He took a giant lateral cut, and I stepped in to meet it. As the cut approached, I flipped the sword upward from beneath, redirecting the attack high over my head. It left me in position to deliver a crushing shot to Raximar's right hip; despite his armor, I knew I had damaged bone. He flinched hard, but to his credit, he stayed upright.

But it was irrelevant. A wound like that limited his mobility, and against an opponent who was willing to fight patiently, that meant the fight was over. I wore him down over the next two minutes, delivering a glancing shot to his shoulder, then a swift cut to the left knee. He stumbled with a desperate strike, and I slammed my sword upward into his wrists, breaking both and sending the sword flying.

Raximar dropped to his knees, barely able to hold his body off the floor. He was panting, desperate for air, desperate for a way out. I rammed the sword down on the back of his neck, and it was done.

---

Things fell apart very quickly after that.

The Raximar troops, for some reason, doubted my version of events. I fought my way back to my troops, but all of my men had stood down awaiting the outcome of my negotiations. Some of those loyal to me helped me break out of the Raximar camp, but it was clear we were going to be hunted down a second time, this time with less ceremony than the first.

I fled into the hills and ruins.

We fought a series of skirmishes as we retreated. Most of my troops chose to surrender rather than die. I'm impressed that any were fool enough to lay down their lives for me, in retrospect. We ran, and we ran, fewer and fewer, until at last, just three of us remained to hole up in a cave. It ran deep, and we could hear water. We sealed the entrance. This would be the end of us, but we could do it on our terms.

"We should go down fighting," offered a captain who had stayed with me to the end. I couldn't remember her name, but this seemed the wrong time to bring that up. "They'll have to pay for my life in kind."

The second man, a common soldier, sat and sobbed. "It doesn't matter. Dead is dead. And we're dead. We're dead."

But my eyes were drawn to the cave walls. "Do these look like worked stone to you?"

My companions didn't seem to hear me. But I was right. The cave floor had certainly been smoothed, and the walls were too even to be natural. I willed a small light into existence, and walked deeper into the darkness.

It took me some time to clear a collapsed tunnel, but on the other side was a small chamber. I recognized it immediately from my research. It was a Keocian summoning chamber, and it was entirely intact.

---

Without my reference materials, the inscriptions took some time to decipher, but the crux of it was simple enough. Two pedestals, each with a large obsidian bowl. You fill each bowl with blood, and you place one hand in each. From there, the chamber would do the rest. And I just happened to have two lives with me to fill the bowls.

Covenant of Blood | Art by Seb McKinnon

My companions got their wishes. One got to die fighting. The other died a meaningless death. I filled the two stone bowls with their lifeblood, and when I was done, you couldn't tell which had been which.

The rest of the ritual was laughably easy. Beings of power want to be called. They want to serve their purpose. I'm sure I made a mistake or two in pronunciation, but it didn't matter in the slightest. The doors that held back the beings I invoked were thin, and as I pulled them open, they pushed from the other side. A child could have done it. They wanted to come.

I felt them in my mind. They searched it roughly for my desires. I tried to direct them, to focus them on the problem at hand, to clear away the forces that penned me in. But they knew better. They knew what I really wanted. They did as I asked.

They ended the world.

The process was completely mundane. No howling winds, no eruptions of fire and blood, no scouring of the land by ravenous winged things. It just ended. Every living soul just fell down and died. From those digging through the cave-in to reach me, to a farmer on a far-off continent. They simply died. All of them.

Except for me.

I walked the scoured landscape for days to be sure. Encampments filled with rotting meat. Fortifications manned by corpses alone. On the tenth day, I noticed the creature shadowing me. That night, it joined me by my fire.

He took on my form, down to the smallest detail, but his voice was like a void.

"Congratulations, Lord Nixilis. You have done it. You brought peace to this world."

"Peace. Yes, I suppose I have."

"The Eighth and final Cataclysm. You played your part well."

"Centuries of war. Possibly millennia. For this?"

"Worlds are made and broken as toys for greater beings than us. We were made to deliver a prize and a price."

I smiled. "Here sits Ob Nixilis, sole survivor of a world that only knew war, is that it? Very well. It's a better fate than the rest of them got." I pulled a flask of water from my pack. "Here's to me, then."

I took a swig, and looked around. I was completely alone.

Ob Nixilis of the Black Oath | Art by Daarken

The absurdity of it all washed over me like a wave. A lifetime of scrambling for power and control, when all the while I had been dancing on another's stage. All my ambition, all my desire, all my study and toil and pain. All of it for nothing. It was the end of the world. It was what I had always wanted. It was a trap set for me, thousands of years before my birth.

I laughed until I choked. I fell to the ground, hands and knees, weeping and gasping. The end of the world.

It went very dark.

When I opened my eyes again, I looked upon a new world.

It fell much more easily than the first.

 

Magi-Nation Duel 2022 Updates Part 2

 Our online Magi-Nation Duel Community continues, with newly created fan items, videos, and designs!  Check it out below!  Here's the second part of 2022, with a lot of fan content and new videos!  We've even got a history post and interview with Josh Lytle below!  You can read the first update from 2021 here.

No tournaments in this part of the year, but we're hopeful for 2023!!

 

 Fan Content and Discussion

User MagiMutt had custom Magi commissioned from Rich Werner, and had them created into cards and frames! We published the article featuring their making here: https://changevoyage.blogspot.com/2022/11/universal-moonlands-magi-custom-set.html

 Can you guess what they are each based on??  

You can acquire them from MagiMutt by contacting him on the discord! 

 

A fan created Magi-Nation Stickers on Red Bubble!  Check them out!  

https://www.redbubble.com/i/sticker/Gotta-Korrit-by-HyperLiteScizor/103304917.EJUG5

https://www.redbubble.com/i/sticker/Orish-Isn-t-Awkward-by-HyperLiteScizor/103304134.EJUG5

https://www.redbubble.com/i/sticker/Feelin-Furoktious-by-HyperLiteScizor/103303186.EJUG5

 

  User Varga Wasperine made new regional pins!  Check out how they look!

You can purchase those still left from the stores that they run! 

Static Claws website

https://staticclaws.square.site/product/magi-nation-region-pins/945 

Etsy

https://www.etsy.com/.../1309740587/magi-nation-region-pins

User BenR created Lego Magi and creatures!  Much like the past Lego concepts from user Demosthenes, which you can see in the 2021 Part 1 Community update!

Core!  Warrada and a Chaos Jile

Kybar's teeth and Core together!

A close up of the Kybar's lego!

Tryn from Base set!

Found Relics from the Vault of Knowledge

 A user, Magnuscalgar, showed off the Holmberg sketch drawn for them waaay back when on their playmat!

 

 

Videos

User LynnThalas has found all sort of original packs, and did a pack opening!

LynnThalas then also opened a Voice of the Storms Booster box! Check out the box topper!  We forgot those even existed!!

Another user opened a full Awakening expansion booster box!

Josh Lytle, one of the original designers, went onto this podcast video series "The Booster Pack" to talk about his game design with Magi-Nation Duel and history! 

Another user opened a full Voice of the Storms starter box!  And their box had a misprint, with most starters having almost all rares in the random card slots!!

As always, we're happy the community is active, and loving this 20 year old card game!  Please send us updates, and we'd love to hear from your playgroup or in-person Magi-Nation community as well!  

Universal Moonlands Magi (custom set!)

 by MagiMutt

For as long as I can remember, I have always had a fascination with Universal Studios monster
movies. From Dracula to the Phantom, from Frankenstein to The Creature from the Black Lagoon, there
was just something about these characters that I fell in love with.

Fast forward to 2006, after the “hiatus” of Magi-Nation when several notable of 2Is’ founding
members went on to release The Spoils. Somehow, I got involved in ideas of a promo set to be released
for the game and thus the first five characters came into fruition: High Priest Imhotep, Count Mau, Mr.
Talbot, Fr4nk31f573in'5 Majig, and Eucritta Melanolimnetes. Based on the Universal Monsters, these
cards had VERY minor input from myself, simply stating their source and offering names.

Having such a minuscule input into the cards, I decided to not have my name included in any
acknowledgements of these cards. A second set of characters was suggested, but the team had decided
to move on from the Universal Monsters idea by then. The Spoils went into hibernation. It is still played
in select groups and the community is still active.

Still, my ‘obsession’ continued and when Rich Werner opened commissions in 2019 for custom
artwork, I jumped at the chance. It started with a simple idea:
 There are 13 regions in Magi-Nation Duel. There are at least 13 notable characters from Universal
Studios. How should they merge together. The first was easy: Dracula appeared in tombs, castles, and
the classic gothic scenery. He kept a coffin of dirt underground. The Magi based on Dracula would
naturally be from the Underneath.

Going by this logic, I presented Rich with the idea of Magi based on Universal Studios Monsters in the
following combinations:
Underneath-----Dracula
Arderial-----Phantom of the Opera
Naroom-----Frankenstein’s Monster (Adam)
Weave-----The Mummy
Orothe-----Creature from the Black Lagoon
Core-----Bride of Frankenstein
Paradwyn-----The Invisible Man
Cald-----Dr. Jeykll
Nar-----Mr. Hyde
Universal-----Van Helsing
d’Resh-----Scorpion King
Bograth-----Hunchback of Notre Dame
Kybar’s Teeth-----The Wolf Man
Alternates Universal-----Alucard

He seemed to like the idea of something different and started working on my ideas (while also finishing
up work for “Dungeon Party.”
While Widget had created suitable frames for the game, and I got an official artist to work on artwork, my
card idea needed...well, ideas. So, I turned to the fanbase and got input from several members of the
community.

Artimillies Strongbow, Zucriy Amsuna, nol_bricks, drakk2 and several others shared ideas that were
included in the final designs of the Universal Moonlands promo set. To be clear, while I had some general
ideas about what each Magi did, I had zero experience in keeping balance with my initial designs. They
were...passable at best. Most credit for the Powers and abilities of the characters comes from
community-based input.

I will, however, take full credit for the names and flavor text of these cards. I used several movies and other sources in naming characters. Between actors and writers, most of the cards came up relatively easy to name.

 

The eventual design for the Underneath Magi included my son’s idea for a Wolf/Bat creature. This would
be cropped out in the Magi card, to be included in a later card. The name I settled on was Bela Zaro.
Using the actors name (Bela Lugosi) and a vampire character from Ravenloft (Strahd von Zarovich), made
it simple.

Although sometimes the original idea didn’t QUITE convey what I wanted, Rich was able to take input
from me about the characters designs. Case in point: the Monster was suggested to be a “...big
lumbering oaf. "He lost his last fight with a Core Magi, but he's just too stubborn to admit it" (the
monsters mate is a core magi in this set).

Got it mostly right in one shot, but there’s nothing in this picture to suggest a mate. So we had a
conversation:

    Me: Can you do more Lurch, less Hanna Barbara? Also, to tie into the Bride, he needs to be
holding a rose. She's already broken his heart, and the rose is what he remembers her by.

    RW: Yeah. I am trying to keep the MND feel. I’ll give another pass.

    Me: Rather be closer to the empty headed football player that just lost the head cheerleader to
the nerd.

And thus, Adam Carloff was created. Adam being a term usually suggesting the creature and Carloff
based on the actor's name (Boris Karloff).
I used quotes from the books or the movies for flavor text. Most are easy to follow, but one I screwed
up on. I used a movie quote that references the character but there’s zero context for it.
It also happened to happen on a card that has the most obscure way to name a character I’ve seen:

 
All of this to say that my first incursion into custom cards was kind of successful in that MY designs were
done, MY way, with help from several other people to show off something that could be used in the
game.

But HOW can they be used in games, you ask? Simple. I had custom cards made:

 
LEGALIZE: I am in no any shape or form affiliated with 2i or any company or person connected to 2i. I paid an artist (formerly of 2i) to create artwork for my personal designs for cards. I (with input from others) completed a set of characters that can be used within the rules of a particular card game. These cards are not legal in any way and are not officially recognized as part of the card game.

I have a limited supply of sets of these “Universal Moonlands” Magi. In fact, I have only 47 sets left.

They are available, through me, until I’m sold out. Each sealed set will run $10. You get all 13 Magi.
Want a set? Send me a message! (u/MagiMutt on the Magi Nation Discord!)

Dominiara - Compiling Lore and Ages

Dominaria was once the hub of the multiverse, and is still easily the largest plane in Magic: the Gathering's multiverse.  It has multiple continents and covered in various biomes, battles, and climates in various expansions.  Here we are working to compile various elements of the story and lore, to assist newcomer planeswalkers to Dominaria.  

Dominaria's Maps: 

History of Dominaria: this five part article series covers the maps, history of major events, and world changes of Dominaria, including the very popular series of the Weatherlight Saga. 

Part 1: Quick History,

Part 2: Maps and Locations, 

Part 3: World Changes,  

Part 4: The Weatherlight Saga,  

Part 5: Terisiare

Expansions and their continents: 

The majority of the original magic sets on Dominaria took place on two continents: Terisiare and Aerona.  You can find places like Argive, (formerly Kjeldor/Balduvia), Yavimaya, and Lat-Nam on Terisiare, and on Aerona: Benalia, Llanowar, Keld, Verdura, Tolaria West, The Spice Isles, and sometimes included: Bogarden and Urborg (though they're usually considered part of The Burning Isles).   

Antiquities took place on Terisiare, highlighting the Brother's War between Urza and Mishra.

The Dark took place on Terisiare, showing the decline of civilization with a cooling climate. 

Fallen Empires, a set from 1994, took place on a small eastern continent: Sarpadia, covering the fall of 5 kingdoms to decay, climate change, and being overrun by enemy factions.  

Ice Age (Block: Ice Age, Alliances, Coldsnap) took place in Terisiare, for the years of the ice age after The Antiquities War. 

The Mirage Block (Mirage, Visions, Weatherlight) took place on the central continent of Jamuraa.  Jamuraa's three main city states, Femerf, Suq'Ata, Corondor, and the lost Zhalfir, all are here. 
The expansion Prophesy also took place in Jamuraa, with an invasion by Keldons.  

The novels of Jedit Ojanen took place on a variety of continents, but mainly on Jamuraa, Legends I Trilogy.

Portal Second Age took place on a southern continent of Caliman.

Tetsuo Umezawa and the Nicol Bolas novels took place on Madara, a small island continent to the Southwest of Jamuraa.  This took place in the Legends II trilogy novels. 

Much of the Urza's Saga block (Urza's Saga, Urza's Legacy, Urza's Destiny) took place on various continents (and other planes!), but the features were Shiv (central northern continent), Yavimaya, Urborg, and Tolaria (the original, now sunken).  There were some historical elements of the block, even showing the forest of Argoth before the Sylex explosion in the Brother's War.  

Prophesy took place on Jamuraa, with the Keldons Invading just before the Phyrexian invasion.  

Invasion block (Invasion, Planeshift, Apocalypse) took place across all of Dominaria, with the Phyrexians using portals, a Rath Planar overlay, and a full invasiion of the plane. 

Odyssey block (Odyssey, Torment, Judgement) took place on the continent of Otaria to the southeast of Terisiare.  It followed the path of the Mirari and Kamahl's journey.  

Onslaught block (Onslaught, Legions, Scourge) continued the Otaria story, with more Mirari troubles and the coming of Karona

Time Spiral block (Time Spiral, Planar Chaos, Future Sight) took place across Dominaria once more, with the Rift era almost tearing the Dominaria and the multiverse apart.  The mending solved and changed the challenge of planeswalkers. 

Dominaria (2018) took place on various continents, showing Benalia, Llanowar, Urborg, Suq'Ata, Femeref, Vodalia, and Yavimaya.  

Now, in 2022: Dominaria United showcases many of these same locations, but adds Argive and Keld, with nod to Caliman, Versuva, and reprinted and reimagined legends from previous eras! 

Ancient History

Prerevisionist lore had a lot of differences in the world of Dominaria - from planar gates to different types of planeswalkers.  Much of the lore was recorded online here and there, and we've compiled some of it for you.  

Coldsnap's last stand of the Ice Age lore.  

Caliman and the second age of Portal

Planar Gates and travelers

Prerevisionist Encyclopedia Dominia (former name of the Multiverse)

Taysir's Journals and A-D

Encyclopedia sections E-Z 

Early Volumes I 

Early Volumes II - History of Benalia

Early Volumes III - The Interrogation and the Eater of the Infinite

Histories and Fables: - Ambassador's Tale, Bigasdat's Escape

Histories and Fables - 'The Enemy of My Enemy', and 'Dying Breath'

Histories and Fables - Return of the Empress, Scalebane's Elite, and Still Waters Deep Roots

The Brother's War Lore and Art compilation

 Welcome back to the past!  The Brother's War expansion features the events on Dominaria that led up to the main Magic story,  from Urza and Mishra's past to how our modern planeswalkers are meddling with time to learn the answers to stopping Phyrexia, again.  

 

Story of the set, The Brother's War

Main Story (of the past): 22AR - 69 AR.  For those that don't know, AR stands for Argivian Reckoning, measuring the start of the 'modern' era of time with the year of Urza's birth.  Urza was therefore born in year 0, and Mishra in year 1.  Urza and Mishra's final confrontation and the Sylex blast was in 63 AR.  Current magic story is in the year 4562 AR. 

Much of this story shows the aftermath of the Brother's War, and stories to the side or around the Novel, The Brother's War by Jeff Grubb. 

1. The End  69 AR

2. The Beginning 69 AR - 85 AR

3. Sword One 28 AR

4. The Ink of Empires 44 AR

5. As Cruel As Necessary 22 AR | 44 AR | 63 AR | 69 AR | 4562 AR

Side Stories

The side stories are set in present day, 4562 AR, with Teferi and the other modern walkers building the plan to determine how the Golgothian Sylex is used to explode.  Teferi uses a device invented by Saheeli to visit the past times as a ghost. 

1. Stronghold 

2. Antiquities 

3. Nemesis 

4. The Dark 

5. Exodus

Synopsis

Teferi, Kaya, and Saheeli have worked with Jodah to take up residence in Urza's Tower to build a time machine, to send Teferi's spirit back in time, using Kaya's ghostform ability, the Moonsilver Key, schematics from the Tolarian Academy, and Saheeli's artifice.  The side stories cover their other friends' efforts to protect the tower from Phyrexian attack while they go back in time to learn how Urza activated the Golgothian Sylex to blow up Terisiare, so they can use it on New Phyrexia.  

The main story tells the sides stories and aftermath of the novel: The Brother's War by Jeff Grubb.  Kayla bin Kroog's leading and migration away from the cold.  The rise of the church of Tal.  Stories 3 and 4 tell of tales of battle and soldiers within the Brother's War itself.  

Meanwhile, we learn of Tezzeret's motivations of helping New Phyrexia, to acquire a new Darksteel body, and delivers Karn to Elesh Norn.  He learns they have no intention of actually fulfilling their bargin, but that it was also Tezzeret sending information to Jace about Urabrask and Koth's rebellion, connecting Vivien to Urabrask on New Capenna, hiring Kaya to hunt Vorinclex, while still 'serving' Norn.  The Phyrexian attack on the tower requires Elspeth and Jodah to use most of their magic, and Chandra, Nissa, and Wrenn and Seven barely hold off the attack.  They find that the time machine is damaged however, and Teferi's spirit is lost in time.  All their other planeswalker allies arrive, for their strike attack on New Phyrexia, coordinating with others to protect their homeplanes from the Realmbreaker invasion (The world tree seed/material was stolen by Vorinclex).  Teferi had sent himself back to 63 AR, right at the moment of the Sylex blast, and spoke to Urza as he was forming into his planeswalker form after the blast.  Teferi learned what was needed, but the damaged time machine still left him lost on a beach, in unknown shores. 

Videos and Art

Art imgur compilation: from the world building video.  https://imgur.com/a/euqEBo4

Cinematic first look (Nissa and... Ajani?) The Dawn of the Multiversal Phyrexian Invasion!

World building video:

In Tokyo - There was a pop-up set up for a Cafe for Brother's War!  Players could try out the game and experience the set! 

Encyclopedia Dominia: Histories and Fables - 'The Enemy of My Enemy', and 'Dying Breath'

  The Encyclopedia Domnia had various stories, lore, and information of the worlds of the multiverse.  Here we're restoring some of the online duelist's tales.  The Encyclopedia was gathered by the planeswalker Taysir, here is the section of "Histories and Fables" with stories: The Enemy of my Enemy, and Dying Breath. We are continuing our reproducing of them: they are not original content, but created by Wizards of the Coast for the Online Duelist in the 1990s. 

 

The Enemy of My Enemy

by Christopher R. Wilkes

Across the bay, the distant flare of Lucassa's Lighthouse burned in the soft night, throwing myriad sparks upon the waves. It shone with a friendly yellow light, beckoning wayfarers and their ships to the safety of the Orvadian trading town.

Yet of the group aboard the dhow, only the Orvadian fisherman Tarin gazed across the water to the lights of Lucassa. The rest watched the dark water itself as it slid by, or listened to the waves and the sigh of the breeze, alert for any changes that might signal the arrival of newcomers. Tarin sat tiredly at the stern of his boat, alone at the steering oar, hoping the merfolk would make their presence known soon. He was a leathery nub of a man, eroded by sun, wind, sea, and time. His passengers frightened him, and he rued giving in to the temptation of gold the merman had promised.

"Surprised" had not quite described Tarin's feelings a week ago when a merman heaved himself into the dhow. Merfolk had grown rare and unfriendly since the Empress of ancient Vodalia had returned and ruined the trade between her people and the Orvadians. She curtailed commerce between the two peoples and heavily taxed what little trade remained. Business and personal relationships became strained and difficult to maintain, and blood had spilled more than once between man and merfolk since then. Tarin's first thought upon the merman's bizarre introduction had been to grab up his gaff, but the dull thud of a heavy gold coin on the wood between them stayed his hand.

That one gleaming coin was more money than Tarin had seen in three years, and the merman promised nine more if Tarin would only bring certain people from Lucassa to a meeting spot on the water. Tarin had thought about life in Orvada during the dry days of the Empress, of the dull ache in his bones in the morning, of the tired, beaten look his wife always wore, and of how easily the last years of their lives would pass with that gold hidden in the hollow under the hearth. He had not thought about sharing a dark journey with a wild-haired Urborg War Mage, a hulking, tattooed Kukemssan privateer captain, or a dark-cloaked and cowled figure that hadn't left footprints in the soft beach sand. What would they do to him if the merman did not come? Tarin peered again at the lights of Lucassa and wished he was there, sharing friendly warmth, cheer, and ale inside the weathered walls of a tavern.

It was the Kukemssan who first noticed the merfolk, their heads and torsos breaking the waves near the small rock outcrop Tarin had been told to steer for. A gesture brought the others to his side. As Tarin reefed the sail and dropped a sea anchor, he glanced curiously at the pair in the water. It was obvious which of the two was the leader. Moonlight jeweled from the beads of water that slid down his heavily-muscled torso and glinted from his long-bladed spear. He was larger than even the big Kukemssan, and his chest was banded with strange markings. His voice was deep, full and melodious. Although his tone was formal and studied, he spoke with assurance and a note of command.

"I greet you, in the name of the citizens of Etlan-Shiis. I am Aheeraq, chosen successor to the High Councilor of Etlan-Shiis. I thank you for meeting with me tonight."

The War Mage had a rusty voice, as if he had too often roared orders over the clangor of battle. "I am Isonidas of Urborg, Mage and War Captain." He motioned to the Kukemssan and the tall, motionless figure of the other mage. "My companions are Jelamau, Captain of the Kukemssan privateer Wave Splitter," a hint of scorn had come into his tone, but it evaporated into neutral sobriety as he continued, "and Khausiss, a priest of the Breathstealers. We are interested in the rich rewards you hinted at, but we have heard little of your people since the coming of your Empress during my grandfather's days. From your markings I see you are not of her court. What would you have us do?"

Tarin had shrunk further back into the stern at the realization that he was in the presence of a Breathstealer; he thought that even Jelamau had paled a bit as Isonidas said the word. Tarin's uncle had told a tale years ago of the Breathstealers: dark and evil no-longer-men who stole the life from others in order to live forever. If Aheeraq had heard this tale, it did not outwardly trouble him. He gestured to his companion who reached in to place a dark silken cloth on the dhow's middle bench. Unfolded, it cushioned thick gold coins, pale in the moonlight, around which lay lambent pearls and diamonds glowing with moon-fire. Jelamau licked his lips as he stared at the baubles and Isonidas smiled at the sight. Khausiss seemed to take no notice, standing unmoving and mute as Aheeraq replied.

"The riches are real, and this is but a paltry sample. Since fleeing the Homarids and the fall of Vodalia, we have watched hundreds of treasure ships crewed by scores of different races founder and sink. Their cargoes are of little interest to us, but they might appeal to you. Riches that you can only imagine, but the task we require in return is also of great magnitude." His voice took on an icy resonance. "I will see my people freed from their slavery. We will break the ancient castes once and for all and She who commanded the destruction of the High Council will meet with the doom that should have befallen Her three thousand years ago!"

In the sudden quiet following Aheeraq's angry outburst, Jelamau dropped to one knee and stirred the glittering wealth with a callused forefinger. "Consider your problems solved, oh soon-to-be ruler of the deeps." His eyes were fixed on the jewels and there was a hunger to his tone that made Tarin long once more for the safety of the tavern. "Even if the others here won't help, I know those who will." He swirled diamonds around with his finger and said softly, "Gladly . . . ." Isonidas tore his eyes from the mesmerizing contents of the black cloth, glared suspiciously at Jelamau, and then locked his gaze on Aheeraq. "Tell me, Councilor: why do you need outside help? Are you not the one who truly commands the hearts and spears of your people? How can a handful of ancient relics bring a powerful civilization to its knees?"

Aheeraq stared steadily back at him. "They may be few, but the power of their magic is immense. We fight them at every turn yes, but without hope, for we have no power comparable to theirs. Our magic could let you breathe in our waters, sustain and warm you, but it cannot blast living coral apart, nor freeze the very sea in our enemies' veins. Sadly, their power has cowed those who lack courage, and attracted many who seek power themselves. Their army is numerous." He paused, doubt evident in his eyes. "Thus I come to you now, while we are still strong enough to benefit from outside aid. I ask that you wield your power and skills to battle and destroy the Royal Mages of ancient Vodalia." He looked steadily at each of the warriors in turn for a long silent moment. Tarin was relieved not to be noticed. Aheeraq finished in ringing tones, "Do you have the power, the strength, and the willingness to do this? In return I will provide you with a thousand times what I have shown you here." Jelamau started to reply, but Isonidas cut him off with a roar of laughter. His hair flew wildly, though there was no wind, and blue fire leapt from finger to finger, dripping to hiss and sputter on the damp deck at his feet. "I fear no water Mages. I have fire enough to boil the seas around them. None shall-" he stopped, his speech cut short by a bubbling scream.

Tarin had seen the Dark Priest throw his cowl back to reveal a near-fleshless face with burning green eyes. Skeletal arms stretched up to the sky, and glimmering filaments of night itself tore free and plunged down at the priest's command, sliding with a furious hiss into the sea. At a gesture, a huge black net rose steaming out of the dark water, a screaming merman enmeshed within. Patterns of bright color shifted across his skin where it wasn't charred by the touch of the web, and he writhed and howled in horrible pain. Then, with the abrupt closing of Khausiss' hands, the net contracted into nothing, leaving bloody bits of strained merman to patter back down into the sea. Even Aheeraq seemed stunned as silence returned.

The Breathstealer turned to him, and with a voice of dust and shadows said, "Be more watchful for spies in the future. They could be . . . inconvenient." It seemed to Tarin that his eyes flicked towards Isonidas. He continued, "I, at least, will undertake your commission. I foresee no insurmountable difficulties . . ." He stretched thin lips in a rictus smile and slid his cowl back up. The green eyes glowed from within and the tomb-like voice dropped to a bare whisper, ". . . sire." Isonidas looked at his erstwhile companion speculatively, but no one spoke for a moment. Aheeraq looked at them with troubled eyes. "I will meet you three, with your men and ships, here in five nights." The other merman tossed a small heavy purse at Tarin who was cowering in the stern. Then the two merfolk sank into the sea, leaving the dhow rocking gently and the treasure still bright on the cloth. Jelamau bundled it up while Isonidas looked back at the darker swirling water where the spy had died. Tarin got up slowly, pulled in the sea anchor, and began to raise the sail. A fog had begun to roll in, and the light from Lucassa's Lighthouse was further obscured by the mist and the haze that lingered from the Breathstealer's magic. Tarin glanced down at the small purse that lay at his feet, but made no effort to claim it. With these men aboard he would need to go carefully if he ever wanted to spend what he had earned. He concentrated on thinking like a sailor, on getting the dhow back to the dock.

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Dying Breath

By Teeuwynn

The following brief tale gives some insight into the elusive world of the assassin cult known as the Breathstealers. It is notoriously difficult to gain information about these silent killers, and it is certainly unusual for a Breathstealer to record his deeds. However, although we cannot be certain about the veracity of the exact details of this story, Suq'Atan history documents the results of the assassin's mission. -- Taysir

Third Day, Fifth Month.

Today I heard a mother whisper to her child that if he would not hold his tongue in the market then a Breathstealer would come in the night and steal his breath. In the morning the mother would have to wail for her child's spirit, stolen along with her child's life. What a story to tell a babe! But perhaps the young mother thinks the Breathstealers are merely fantasies to frighten children into behaving. I fear she is wrong.

-- Qhattib, Vizier of Amiqat

Two Days before the Slumber of the Bright Moon.

My mother named me Hilel because I was born at the very moment the Bright Moon turned its face away from us for the month. I have always been most comfortable in darkness. Even before I was stolen by the Breathstealers. When you become a Breathstealer you must face the ending of one life in order to begin your new one. I can still feel the breath leave my protesting lips, the air turn stale in my lungs, the hazy burning away of the conscious mind before awakening again to utter night. Last night I was awarded my first chance to gift a soul with shadow. I am honored to have been chosen for a mission of such importance. I must prepare. In two days I shall eat the breath of the living.

-- Hilel, Breathstealer

Fourth Day, Fifth Month.

I awoke this morning in a cold sweat. I dreamed the Pasha was assassinated and, when the other advisors turned to me for guidance in this time of crisis, I had no wisdom to give. The Pasha is not a man of profound wisdom, but he is an icon to our people and icons are of increasing value in these desperate times. This is the second time I have dreamed of death this month. I fear for the Suq'Ata nation. Kaervek's armies may only walk the land now in little more than memory, but I feel more certain than ever that the Breathstealers are real, and that they breed like a virus in the close darkness of our city streets.

-- Qhattib, Vizier of Amiqat

One Day before the Slumber of the Bright Moon.

I have watched my prey for a full day and a night now, and I believe my path is becoming clear. If I can maintain the patience of death I shall surely succeed in stealing the breath from perhaps the most important man in all of the Suq'Atan empire. When he closes his eyes tonight, I shall close mine. Our breath shall be as one. I will dream his dreams. Our spirits will ride the night winds together. When the next night comes and I enter his chambers, his spirit will welcome me as a brother. I sleep in the arms of the Spirit of the Night.

-- Hilel, Breathstealer

Fifth Day, Fifth Month.

I dreamed again of the Pasha's death. Only this time my tongue did not desert me. No, in this dream I spoke passionately of how our brave land must hold another man who could lead our people in honor and wisdom. I am ashamed to admit I even spoke ill of our Pasha in my dream. It is not his fault that his wisdom is that of the cheetah and not of the lion. I must pay special tribute to the Pasha in my prayers this night.

Has our land won its freedom from Kaervek's aggressive suit only to be losing itself to the wiles of a far more cunning foe? I wish the gods would grant me wisdom in this matter, but I fear in the past few days I see better sleeping than awake. I fear for our nation. If the Breathstealer assassins or another, unknown enemy should take the Pasha's life, the Council would almost certainly choose Telim'Tor as our new Pasha. Although Telim'Tor's words feed those hungry for a powerful protector, the loaf of his knowledge is unleavened by wisdom of any kind. The Suq'Ata might do better to have a child lead us. At least a child's gullibility is expected.

I shall pray for the Suq'Ata as well as the Pasha. And on the morrow I shall talk to the Pasha of my fears...for him, for our land, and my concerns about Telim'Tor. I am certain I can get our leader to allow me leave to investigate these Breathstealers. Yes, I am certain now that they are the real danger to our land.

May the gods' eyes be as blind as a mother's to her children's imperfections.

-- Qhattib, Vizier of Amiqat

The Slumber of the Bright Moon.

This night have I granted the Dying Breath for the first time. It is true that you can feel the spirit slipping its mortal tethers. We are indeed celestial beings. Last night as I walked the path of dreams with my brother, Qhattib, I could feel his fear of my kind. And I could feel his worries about Telim'Tor. What well-founded concern! Telim'Tor will one day soon, Spirit willing, grace the throne of the Suq'Ata...and his mind is as easy to bend as summer grass. Yes, my new brother had reason to fear. Tonight he breathes no more and we are safe from the brilliant light of his wisdom. Qhattib's mind was as a sun in Suq'Ata, and we prefer the darkness.

-- Hilel, Breathstealer

 

 

Encyclopedia Dominia: Histories and Fables - Ambassador's Tale, Bigasdat's Escape

 The Encyclopedia Domnia had various stories, lore, and information of the worlds of the multiverse.  Here we're restoring some of the online duelist's tales.  The Encyclopedia was gathered by the planeswalker Taysir, here is the section of "Histories and Fables" with stories: Ambassador's Tale, Bigasdat's Escape.  We are continuing our reproducing of them: they are not original content, but created by Wizards of the Coast for the Online Duelist in the 1990s.  

 

The Ambassador's Journal

The following account was composed by a Shanodin dryad living in the Llanowar forest. The Llanowar and Shanodin peoples share a deep respect and connection despite the tremendous distance (several thousand miles) between their forests. The dryad, Sythia, did not record this story on paper, as most cultures do. Instead, she sang it into the wood of her tree. The connection between a dryad and her tree is so strong that the dryad's thoughts are imprinted within the living wood--for those who know how to read them. --Taysir

Although I have lived within the Llanowar's comforting shade for several bloomings of the crocus, I have seldom ventured from Hedressel's sheltered peace. The druids still seem overawed by my presence. Whenever I pass into my tree to rest or meditate I fear the younger ones will swoon at the sight. Perhaps this reaction comes from envy of the dryad's bond with the forest? Perhaps not.

The elves here in Llanowar divide themselves into tribes, or elfhames, as they call them. Each elfhame has a distinct populace, territory, leadership, and social structure, and although most of the elfhames get along with one another there is occasional strife between them. In the past, elfhames have even warred among themselves, although no such grand hostilities mar the tranquillity of the forest now.

The other month I asked the druids if I could begin to see more of the splendors of Llanowar. The structure of the elfhames intrigues me, and I have seen practically nothing of the forest, save the holy ground of Hedressel, since my arrival. The druids readily assented, asking only that I allow a cadre of the Order of the Steel Leaf to escort me. When I asked why members of the military should accompany me, Cedrian, the eldest druid, responded that such an escort was first and foremost a show of respect, but there are also dangers in the woods, with orcs from the Ironclaw Mountains occasionally making raids into the forest. Thus, escorted by nearly a dozen Steel Leaf elves, I ventured out to see Elfhame Loridalh.

Over the course of our journey (which lasted nearly a fortnight) I learned much of Girian and the Steel Leaf under his able command. The young elves, with their eye patches, tattoos, and brightly colored hair, remind me of the young everywhere: overeagerness and passionate belief are their greatest faults--and their greatest assets. Long ago given a mandate by their goddess, Freyalise, to guard the forest and the elves, the Steel Leaf have never shirked their duties. In fact, they seem to have stuck so staunchly to Freyalise's words that they can even condemn elves who act in ways the Order does not believe fitting. Still, Girian and the others were the souls of courtesy to me.

When we arrived in Loridalh I was immediately reminded of a child whose mother has come home from a long journey. The child clings to her mother's skirts, as though to remain attached to her mother forever so that terrible absence can never occur again. Likewise, these elves seem forever striving to increase their connection to the infinite life-giver, nature.

The buildings of the Loridalh are unlike any I have seen elsewhere. The structures are created from living wood, coaxed into existence over countless years (although the elves did admit to me that their magic hurries the process). The Loridalh carefully set up frameworks, physical sketches of rooms and buildings, beside a chosen tree. The tree's wood is then encouraged to flow in the shapes indicated, creating ever-ascending buildings that reach well into the heights of the forest. I found this arrangement beautiful and highly indicative of the elves' psychology. It is no wonder they look on my ability to live within wood with such envy and awe.

All this time, the Steel Leaf's patience seemed frayed. As I discussed the Loridalh building philosophy with the elders, I noticed the strained looks on the faces of my waiting escort. While they thought I was sleeping, I overheard several of the Order grumbling about drawing such gloryless duty as escorting an ambassador. Ah, youth!

It was just as I was getting ready to depart the city that I saw something I believe brought me to a slightly deeper understanding of my hosts.

A young mother hovered on the edges of the small crowd observing my visit, her child cradled tenderly in her arms. I glanced up to find her looking at me with tears in her eyes, and I began to cross over to her. Girian stepped up, reminding me that it was past midday and we might want to consider leaving for home soon. I patted Girian's arm reassuringly and approached the young mother (I never did discover her name). When I asked her why she was crying, she responded that she was certain my visit was a sign from Freyalise, for her child was named Llonya, which means "dryad" in Old Elvish. With such a sign from the goddess, surely her child must be blessed.

Staring down at the solemn elf-child, I watched the girl's fragile hands reaching up towards me, or perhaps the sky, a braided twig-toy clutched in her hand. I took the child into my arms and held her up towards the dappled light; still the child waved impatiently. As I glanced at Girian, who stood with arms folded grimly over his armor, I presented the child to the largest tree in the town. Grasping at a living branch, the child pulled the smallest leafy twigs into her mouth while her other hand tangled itself in my hair. Then little Llonya began to cry. Hastily, her mother collected her, apologizing for her daughter's behavior.

The Llanowar are like this child, I thought. Although they see themselves as ancient sages and warriors, they are really still youngsters torn between the desire to leave their home and the desire to stay within their mother's arms forever.

Smiling to myself at this insight I could never share with my escort, I nodded to the relieved Girian. It was time to return home.

 

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Bigasdat's Escape

This tale provides an outsider's view of the elves of Llanowar. It is often interesting to see how one people appears to another, very different race. One often learns something of both the object and reporter of the tale. Readers should bear in mind, however, that the outsiders in this case are goblins. Goblins are, by their very nature, prone to exaggeration and hyperbole.-- Taysir

I never did like Bigasdat. Mom Three-Slugs named him "Bigasdat" 'cause he was big as two cats when he was born. I only got named "Flegg" 'cause Mom had a cold when I came out. So, I never did like Bigasdat.

Anyway, Bigasdat stole one a' Gramma Gooseguts's kites the other day and went flying. He says he borrowed it, but from Gramma's curses I don't think she agrees. Anyway, Bigasdat got a good wind and whoop! off he went. Giblet, did he go! All the way up and out 'til he hung over da Forest of Death. Then he dropped like Grampa Umph after he ate dose three rocks. (We never found out why Grampa did that.)

Anyway, I was happy then 'cause I thought Bigasdat was gone. But now he's back. And he thinks he's a hero. Sheesh!

So Bigasdat starts bragging: "Yah! I crashed dat kite--kerbang--right in da Forest of Death. The crash woulda killed Flegg here, or any of you, flat. But I swung into a tree and lived."

Which means Bigasdat closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and waved his arms like he always does when he's scared, and his hood probably got caught in a tree branch.

"Da forest had the hugest trees ever a goblin saw. They went up to da sky and da roots went almost as high. And everything was silent like when we all wait for Chief Blurglump to belch. I knew if I waited da death elves would come. But I couldn't see da sun, so how's I to start runnin'?"

If the trees are so high, how come I can see da sky over 'em now, huh?

"Then I heard 'em--there musta been five . . . nine . . . no, ninety of 'em, all comin' fer me! Death elves with their pointed teeth, evil eyes, and poison arrows. So I knew home was da way they weren't. I coulda fought them if there were only ten or so, but with so many I had ta run. Mom Three-Slugs woulda hated it if I died."

Yeah, who'd she have to klunk when I'm not around? And who'd ever believe so many elves came after Bigasdat? 'Sides, even one elf'd send Bigasdat screamin' naked into a snowstorm.

"So's anyway, I ran and ran for hours. I don't think any goblin ever ran so long. I could hear da elves everywhere, and once I hadda hide in a pile of leaves. But they didn't find me, no."

Then da elves are stupider'n Bigasdat's pet stone. Bigasdat can't hide from Gramma Gooseguts, and she's half-blind and deaf!

"Finally, after what musta been two or three days, I escaped da Forest of Death and got back to da Ironclaws. So's even a whole tribe of pointy-ears couldn't get one goblin--and dat's me. Hah!"

"But, 'Gas, you was only gone fer an hour. And your kite only crashed a stone's throw inta da forest," I pointed out.

"Well, it seemed like days, and if it was only an hour it's 'cause I'm so fast! Anyway, da kite's at least an hour's run inta da forest."

"Yeah? Den how come I can see it from here, bug-burp?"

Bigasdat stared at da forest and da kite hangin' from a tree right there fer as long as it takes Gramma ta catch a bug with her toes. Then he musta seen the logic of my statement, 'cause he bopped me. So I bopped him back. My fist can out-logic Bigasdat's anyday.

Anyway, dis went on until we both fell asleep. And in da morning Gramma twisted Bigasdat's ears for hours. Guess my brother's good for something after all.

 

A Planeswalker's Guide to Caliman (Portal: Second Age)

 Welcome to Caliman!  An island to the south of the vast world of Dominaria, to the southeast of Jamuraa's coast.  Portal Second Age takes places here, sometime before the first Phyrexian Invasion.  

(sourced from the Portal Second Age guide book)  Thanks to u/TrioCarto for the scans for each page and faction.  

Caliman's elves, goblins and humans have long coexisted in relative harmony — or ignorance of each other. But in the last 150 years, disagreements between the races have led to skirmishes, and those skirmishes may eventually lead to war.

The island uses a mixture of technology and magic. Seagoing merchants draw on ancient Thran technology; the swamp dwellers have evil Phyrexian artifacts and trade them with the goblins; the humans benefit from the genius of a great inventor. Only the elves of the northwest forest, masters of green magic, are without any technology.

White

White is the color of Alaborn, a human kingdom dominating Caliman's southern plains. It is a civilization at the height of its architectural, intellectual, and artistic accomplishments.

Over thousands of years of peace, Alaborn's weapons and armor became increasingly elaborate and useless. When the Alaborn finally encountered the goblin tribes of the mountains, humiliating military defeats followed. Only ingenious military inventions saved them from complete destruction.

Recently, the Alaborn have discovered a new enemy, whose cunning and ruthlessness far exceeds that of the goblins — the swamp queen, Tojira.

(illustration: Mike Zug and Kev Walker)

 

 

Blue

Blue is the color of the Talas, an agile and muscular race from far to the west of Caliman. Over thousands of years, they have become a significant power on the seas and scattered islands of this part of Dominaria.

Merchants and pirates, the Talas control timber towns to the east as well as several port towns built on ancient Thran ruins. About thirty years ago, they began harvesting the elves' rare featherwood trees, which yield an immensely light timber valuable for crafting ships and thopters.

(illustration: John Avon, Mark Tedin, and Mathew Wilson)

 

 

Green

Green is the color of the elves of Norwood, the northern forest. Over the thousands of years since they settled on Caliman, they have transformed their home into a sylvan paradise.

Elves are generally a little smaller than humans, with a slight but muscular build. Their skin color is primarily caucasian, and their average lifespan is 500 years.

All elves are well trained and proficient with missile weapons, and their ability to move silently makes them virtually unbeatable in their own territory.

Red

Red is the color of the mountain tribes — goblins, ogres, and giants.

Goblins are sneaky and tend to attack in small bands. Their weapons range from rocks and sharpened sticks to slings, bows, and some Phyrexian airguns they've traded for with the sweamp queen.

Ogres are large humanoids with massive, muscular builds. They recently created the dreaded battlesaw, a large chainsaw-like weapon that combines Phyrexian mana battery with a specially forged blade.

Giants are brooding and dangerous creatures. Their solitary nature means that little is known of them.

(illustration: Tony DiTerlizzi)

 

   

Black

Black is the color of the swamp queen and her minions.

For centuries, the salt marsh at Caliman's north end was uninhabited except for a few animals and semi-intelligent monsters. Ten years ago, this sorceress appeared in the ruins of the ancient Thran city there. Since then, she's grown in power, sending an increasing number of her forces out in search of artifacts and slaves.

The swamp queen is served by nightstalkers, magically created black-mana creatures. They ride large mechanical beasts whose spread feet allows them to easily lope through the uneven swamp terrain.

The stage is set for the forces of good and evil to march into battle.

(illustration: Kev Walker and Mark Tedin)