Votes: TBD
Emrakul's Timewinder 4UR
Creature - Eldrazi (R)
Devoid
Whenever a player casts a creature spell, that player reveals the top card of his or her deck. If that card is a creature, that player may put that creature onto the battlefield.
Whenever a player casts an instant or sorcery, that player reveals the top card of his or her deck. If that card is an instant or sorcery, that player may add the effects of the revealed card to the cast instant or sorcery.
4/6
I've got 4 preordered, myself, in addition to two boxes. I want my full art lands, dangit! Luckily, my gaming store isn't as sleazy as some of the ones you guys are talking about. I doubt that they'll do anything as underhanded as that.
lol...anyone else planning on dumping far more money then you care to admit on fat packs just for the basic lands?
Very yes. I'm getting at least 5 fat packs. And if hardly anyone else buys packs because they think the set is "garbage" that just means that we of the fat pack tribe will have all the supply of full-arts in 7 years time!
The card is nice but I'm more interested on the implication of the Flavor Text.
"The last hedron slotted into place, locking Ulamog in an infinite loop of binding energy."
Does that mean that they win the war, at least on Zendikar this early. I thought that we would only see story resolution (good or bad) in card form in the second set, Oath of the Gatewatch.
"Win" the war? Ulamog isn't the only Eldrazi titan, merely the most blatant.
"Emrakul and Kozilek haven't been seen recently."
My personal theory is that Emrakul left the plane, but Kozilek is winning the war in a more subtle manner.
This is totally going into a standard Zada, Hedron Grinder deck I'm dreaming up. Just in case what my opponent wants to do to my board is worse than exiling them.
Opponent: "I cast Mob Rule to steal all your creatures."
Me: "Ha! Jokes on you! I scour my whole field from existence!"
Opponent: "...What?"
And they can print some land with upside like hexproof (or similar) so it would become hard to destroy and add another plan for control decks.
Or they can print some land with upside when the land dies or leave the battlefield
Look at the Awaken costs so far. They are all pretty high (6+). I don't see them having to waste removal on your 6th or 7th land as that much of a risk.
Awaken being such a high-costed mechanic for such little gain-that is easily disruptable, is not an argument towards it NOT being a terrible mechanic.
Those of us who remember old Worldwake standard might recall the cycle of "Zendikons". None of which saw play in standard competitive really. They were mostly just limited fodder.
The thing is, they were pretty decent limited fodder! I mean, even if they died, the Zendikons all had the escape clause of: "Dead land returns to your hand." Which is nice. Nobody wants turning their lands into creatures to become painting a target on them telling the opponent, "Hey, look at this! Hurt my card advantage and my mana-base at the same time!"
Awaken is like the Zendikons... without the escape clause.
This could be a terrible, terrible thing to do...
Unless we get something that either:
A) Benefits for having lands in your graveyards. Maybe in "Sweat"? Spells that do something like, "Draw a card for each land in your graveyard." (Would be utterly broken for the duration of Khans and such spells overlapping, with all the fetches around.)
B) Return dead lands to the hand... or the field! (Crucible of Worlds reprint? Could be justified story-wise now that the Eldrazi are no longer bound to Zendikar. They kinda ARE a crucible of worlds.)
I'm just saying. I'd be pretty leery of using any of these "Awaken" spells when there is the slightest possibility of my opponent burning/destroying my land/creatures.
[quote from="testthewest »" url="http://www.mtgsalvation.com/forums/magic-fundamentals/the-rumor-mill/628153-zendikari-expeditions?comment=252"]Well, that not really true. I wanted more fat packs since they announced the lands will be full art but this certainly helps to sell more in the long run. Im really glad, they want to do this.
Warning: Zendikar had full-art lands... except for the fat packs.
You know how sometimes these days, you'll spot a weird zendikar land that does NOT have full art?
Those came from fat packs.
Watch out. While BFZ fat packs MIGHT have the full arts... I wouldn't count on it. Find out first.
<
Incorrect on both counts. Fat Packs in Zendikar, Worldwake and Rise of the Eldrazi all came with 40 full art lands. It was the intro decks which came with "normal" basics. It has also been confirmed that the Fat Packs for Battle For Zendikar will contain full art lands (although it has yet to be confirmed how many lands total will be in there, or whether there will be a mix of full art and normal basics - I'm inclined to expect either a drop back to 40 lands, or a 40:40 mix of the two).
On the Expedition Lands: I'd like to be more excited about these. I really would. They're super pretty. But with them being so scarce, and the inevitable splurge of people with bottomless wallets hoovering up entire sets of them... I feel this is like the Ugin from the Ugin's Fate boosters. I'd never seen a single one of those, until a couple of weeks ago when I met someone who had 8 just sat there in his binder. Not to trade, not really to use, just to show off. Kind of ruins a special product for me when I have to assume from the start that I'm never actually going to see one being played.
Wait, seriously? HOT DAMN! I'm buying me some fat packs then!
I've never been more delighted to be dead-wrong in my life!
[quote from="testthewest »" url="http://www.mtgsalvation.com/forums/magic-fundamentals/the-rumor-mill/628153-zendikari-expeditions?comment=252"]Well, that not really true. I wanted more fat packs since they announced the lands will be full art but this certainly helps to sell more in the long run. Im really glad, they want to do this.
Warning: Zendikar had full-art lands... except for the fat packs.
You know how sometimes these days, you'll spot a weird zendikar land that does NOT have full art?
Those came from fat packs.
Watch out. While BFZ fat packs MIGHT have the full arts... I wouldn't count on it. Find out first.
This is the first of a short series of stories I'm writing, one for each enemy-color pair of colors around a Planeswalker I make up.
First off is Zarian, the Estranged.
Please enjoy and review!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zarian sighed as he sat upon his bed. He had taken refuge in his room after once more disappointing his father, a highly regarded priest of Avacyn. His father had made no secrets of his plans for his son to take after him in the priesthood, but after a great number of failures on the part of Zarian to pass the initiation into the clergy-trainees, his father was quite vocal in his dissapointment. He had even made mention of the possibility that what Zarian needed was to be sent to an academy where Zarian could at least become an assistant to the clergy, if he could not become a cleric himself.
Zarian was afraid to tell his father that he believed the reason he was doing so poorly in the initiation... was that he did not truly believe in Avacyn.
Oh, he knew that Avacyn existed, but he did not truly believe that she was the answer to all the trouble that plagued Innistrad. After the period of time the previous year when Avacyn had vanished for months, watching the evils in Innistrad near instantly capitalize on her absence, he believed that the people of Innistrad should focus their efforts on gaining the strength to engage the evils in Innistrad in direct combat, instead of blindly putting faith in Avacyn in order to let the Angels take care of things for them. In Zarian's mind, this was the worst sort of combination of laziness and feeble-mindedness, an example of the inability to think for one's self, something he despised.
He fell to his back, head colliding roughly with his pillow, as he placed his arm over his eyes, trying to envision some pathway out of his father's undesirable future for him, but coming up with no conceivable answers. He would prefer to take up apprenticeship with a Geistcatcher, as they used engineering and chemistry, two of Zarian's favorite subjects, to combat the spirits that ran rampant through Nephalia. He knew his father would never approve, but that was becoming less and less of a deterrant, and was beginning to look more like an advantage of this plan. He cursed, the knowledge ever at the front of his mind that without his father's financial, if not emotional, support, the Geistcatchers would never approve of him taking up training with them. They had more than enough applicants to be looking for trainees that could offer them nothing.
He sighed again, rubbing at his eyes, and decided that perhaps the problem would look more approachable in the morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He awoke to a pounding on his bedroom door.
"Young master Zarian?" an aged voice tremulously posed.
Zarian yawned before answering. "Yes Maurice?" Maurice was his father's servant. If his father's backup plan of him becoming an assistant to the clergy was put in action, Zarian would become employed in much the same fashion as Maurice was now. It didn't really appeal to him.
Maurice continued. "Your father would like you to join him in the sitting room, young master."
"Thank you Maurice, I'll see him immediately." Zarian returned. He sat up, and quickly dressed, before leaving his room and heading down to the sitting room. He entered the room, and stood, awaiting his father's notice.
After a few minutes of wait, his father looked up from some reports of Vampire activities in the mountains north of Gavony to take notice of his son's presence. "Ah. Zarian. I've received word from Resemwick." Resemwick was the name of the academy that taught those who were to become assistants to the clergy. Maurice had been a top graduate of the academy more than thirty years previously, before coming here to work for his father. "They've accepted your application. You'll be leaving for Resemwick this afternoon, the carriage arrives after lunch. That will be all."
Zarian's throat seized up. Just like that, his father had decided on the course of the rest of his life. If this hadn't been the way that things had always gone, Zarian might have been able to muster up the courage to protest, or argue.
However, the rebellion in his soul had long since been silenced, and his voice remained strained as he replied, "Yes, father," before spinning about and leaving the sitting room. Once he stood once more in his bedroom, he allowed his head to fall, before he sat heavily upon the chair next to his desk. He cradled his head in his hands, despairing at the course his life was taking. But what could he do? He had no resources with which to run away, and he couldn't come up with a plan that would allow him to escape his fate. He was stuck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of his day had proceeded in a whirl. He had, at some point, packed his few personal possessions into the case he held in his hand as he stepped into the carriage that would take him to Resemwick. The carriage driver closed the door behind him before stepping into the driving seat of the carriage. A crack of the reins started the horses moving again, and the carriage was off.
Zarian looked out the carriage window back towards his father's estate. Maurice was waving him off from the front step. His father was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't seen his father at all since the short meeting with him that morning. Typical.
Zarian sunk into the seat of the carriage, and waited.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He jolted awake as an explosion rocked the carriage. The driver of the carriage shouted in alarm as figures came out of the mist surrounding the roads. It was late in the day, the sun was nearing the earth in the distance, and he could barely make out anything in his immediate vicinity. The carriage driver leaped to the earth, and raised his fists. One of the figures tossed something at the driver, and he clutched at the place that it had struck him, before slumping to the ground. Zarian noticed something pooling around him. The horses were screaming, before one of the figures said something, and they quieted.
Zarian was trembling in fear. Who were these people? What did they want with him? He was sure that they were here for him, there was nothing else on the carriage of any value, and they had just killed the driver. Did they merely want the carriage? Preposterous! There were more people surrounding the carriage than would even fit inside! No, he was sure that he was the prize they were seeking.
One of the figures stepped up to the door of the carriage and opened it. Zarian was pressing himself into the opposite corner of the seat, shivering in anticipation of what the figure would say.
"Come along boy, don't make any trouble." The figure rasped. "We have to be somewhere quite soon, and it's far enough away that we need to move quickly."
Zarian didn't move, he was in too much terror to even stand.
"Now, boy! Don't make us drag you, that wouldn't be fun for any of us, believe me!" The figure snarled. Zarian's muscles unclenched enough for him to stand, and shuffle to the door of the carriage. The figure stepped to the side, and gestured to a horse that two other figures were bringing up. They bound his arms and legs, and draped him over the saddle, before lashing him firmly in place. The rest of the figures mounted up, before tying his horse to one of the others. Soon, they were all on their way, Zarian's journey undoubtedly being much more uncomfortable than those of the riders.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They arrived at a river, at a waterfall that crashed into the water nearby, creating a cacophonous roar that drowned out all the sound nearby. The figures dismounted, two of them unlashing Zarian from his horse and lifting him bodily away. One of the figures led all their mounts away. The rest, with Zarian, tramped towards the waterfall. They slipped behind it, entering a dark cave that led into the earth behind the waterfall.
At this point, Zarian's mind was racing. By now, he was sure of the identity of these people. They were cultists, the Skirsag, and he was certain that what they wanted him for was to be the sacrifice in one of their demonic rites. The thought brought a new wave of terror to Zarian, and he began to shake. The two cultists carrying him noticed his shaking, and laughed. "Ha, this one's finally caught on!" The other cultists sneered and chortled at this.
"Oh, he's a bright one alright. No wonder his father," at this point, the speaker spat, "decided to send him to Resemwick. Thinkers like that don't need to become priests, they'd be wasted in the church." He cackled. Zarian's eyes began to tear up. He knew that he had just had his last moment of being in the outdoors living. At this point, he was beginning to hope that at least his geist might be one of rage, so that he could enact vengeance upon the cultists. Though he knew that the cultists probably had some defence against geists, probably a demonic pact of some sort.
At last, the cultists came into a candlelit chamber, with an altar near the back, and many fiendish runes inscribed into most of the surfaces. Zarian studied one nearby intently. He noted that it seemed to be drawn using a rust-colored substance. Blood.
At this point, Zarian had nearly accepted his fate, though the tautness of his muscles betrayed that he yet held hope of escaping. As he was lain upon the altar, though, his hopes were swiftly falling. They tied each of his limbs to a different corner of the altar. As more cultists entered the chamber, they began to extinguish all the lights in the room except for those on the altar.
One cultist separated from the group, and the rest sat, cross-legged, on the floor of the chamber. The one came up to the altar, and turned towards the crowd.
"Brothers, today is a most auspicious day for us." The voice crooned. Zarian recognized the voice as belonging to the same figure that had drawn him from the carriage. "Today, is the thirteenth sacrifice that we will offer to the demon Quolzog, and thus, the day that we can summon Quolzog from his demonic realm into ours. Today is the day that Quolzog will share with us his powers! Today, is the day that we will strike back against the church, against Avacyn herself!" At this, the crowd was chanting.
"Quol-zog! Quol-zog! Quol-zog!" They maliciously intoned.
"Yes. Quol-zog, hear us! Take our devotion, and grant us your presence!" At this, the speaker spun towards me, and raised an evil-looking dagger above Zarian.
Zarian's heart was pounding in his chest. Was this it? Was this his final moment? It seemed to him that some buried part of his soul was raging in his heart, pounding harder even than the beat that the organ was drumming to fear.
As the dagger fell towards his chest, that part of his soul grew louder and louder, drowning out even the chanting cultists in the background, and just as the dagger pierced his chest, he felt it rush out, out his eyes, blinding him, out his ears, deafening him, out of his mouth, muting his screams, and out his chest, as he felt some incredible power flow out of him...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zarian awoke, but his eyes didn't open when he wanted them to.
Wait, no, they were open, but he couldn't see anything. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife, some void?
Actually, he could feel that he was sitting in something. Something wet. His vision began to come back to him in spots, pieces of brightness beginning to enter his consciousness. He blinked several times, until suddenly he could see again.
The world around him glowed a strange ethereal color. He looked up, and saw the stars. How did he get outside of the cave? He felt a jolt of pain in his chest, and clutched it. He looked down. His shirt was stained a crimson color. Blood. His blood. The cultist had stabbed him in the chest, hadn't he? How did he survive? And he was sure that he WAS alive. He hurt too much for this not to be real.
After several tries, due to the pain he was in, he managed to stand up. He looked around again. The world around him still glowed a strange shade of blue. He looked up once more, and this time saw the moon. Except it wasn't the moon. Not the moon he was used to, anyways. The moon back home was a silvery grey. This moon was a light blue shade. Much the same color as the glow around him. It was probably causing that glow, actually. That made sense, to him.
He looked down. He seemed to be in a shallow pool of some sort. He trudged to the nearby land. It was a coppery red dirt that his feet sunk into, like mud. He scanned the horizon through the mists around him for landmarks. A city, perhaps, or at least some higher ground. He spotted a far off hill, and began to hike towards it.
When he reached the hill, he began to climb, sitting down whenever the pain in his chest flared, and waited for it to go away. When he finally reached the summit, he took a deep breath before looking around.
He gasped, there was a strange creature in the air hovering a few feet away. It looked like a ridged worm, twisting and contorting through the air. It appeared to notice him, and it spun through the air towards him. He instinctively backed a few feet away, but it came right up to him and began to rub against him, seemingly trying to discover what he was.
He tentatively put out a hand, and it coiled around his arm. Some inner sense of his reached out to the creature, and suddenly he felt an indescribable calm. This creature felt... right. He like this creature. The world around him seemed to emanate an... energy. An energy that put him in mind of the ocean, but this creature, it gave off the feel of his own mind. He felt as much at home with this creature as he ever had in his own room in Gavony.
Suddenly, more of the creatures appeared through the mists. The one around his arm uncoiled, and flew towards them. They all seemed to spin through each other, contorting through the coils of one another, and he would swear that they passed around some energy. After this exchange, all the creatures flew over to him. He put out both of his arms, and the creatures coiled around them before flying away.
They returned, and began to circle him. He waited to see if they would come close to him again, but they didn't. After what seemed like several hours, he decided that no matter how interesting these creatures were, he needed to see if he could find a city. If he could find a city, he was sure that he could use his father's connections in the church to find passage back home. Perhaps after his scare with the cultists, his father would back off on his plans, and even let Zarian attain apprenticeship with the Geistcatchers. He began to trudge off once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After several hours of hiking, the strange creatures still circling him, Zarian came upon an incredible sight.
A second moon was emerging from the horizon! This moon a glowing, dusty red!
Zarian's jaw dropped. A second moon? Was... he even on Innistrad anymore? Did he somehow jump to another world? Was some instinctive part of his soul trying to save him from the cultists when he was so close to death?
What could he do? Did this world even have people on it? He hadn't seen any sign that people had ever existed here. He had seen far off colonies of the creatures that were still circling him off in the distance, but he hadn't taken the time away from his journey to check it out.
If this wasn't Innistrad, then what should he do?
He sat down where he stood, and despaired. Could he ever get back home? Maybe he could jump again? Back to Innistrad? But he wasn't even sure he could! Maybe it only happened when he was in danger, and he wasn't about to jump off a cliff or something to find out.
Another one of the creatures, this one slinking over the ground, came up to him. He put out a hand, and the creature reached up to it.
When it touched his hand, he felt a shock, and suddenly something flooded his brain.
He... understood more about these creatures than before. They had ties to the moons, but he wasn't sure how. They had relationships to each other, but he wasn't sure what they were. The faintest impressions of ideas were dancing across his mind, but he couldn't grasp them firmly enough to understand them.
He gained a new resolve. If he was trapped on this world, then he was going to make the most of it. Starting with these creatures.
He was going to find out everything there was to know about these creatures. They seemed to like him, and if they would do what he wanted, then maybe he could get them to help him find a way back home. This wouldn't be that bad! Better than Resemwick, at least.
With a goal in mind, and a happier destiny than he knew could be possible, he set off in a random direction, letting fate guide his way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I designed a little deck around Zarian, sorta intro-pack style, or maybe Event deck style. I'll post it in a reply to this thing later. I'll reserve the spot for now.
Emrakul's Timewinder 4UR
Creature - Eldrazi (R)
Devoid
Whenever a player casts a creature spell, that player reveals the top card of his or her deck. If that card is a creature, that player may put that creature onto the battlefield.
Whenever a player casts an instant or sorcery, that player reveals the top card of his or her deck. If that card is an instant or sorcery, that player may add the effects of the revealed card to the cast instant or sorcery.
4/6
Very yes. I'm getting at least 5 fat packs. And if hardly anyone else buys packs because they think the set is "garbage" that just means that we of the fat pack tribe will have all the supply of full-arts in 7 years time!
"Win" the war? Ulamog isn't the only Eldrazi titan, merely the most blatant.
"Emrakul and Kozilek haven't been seen recently."
My personal theory is that Emrakul left the plane, but Kozilek is winning the war in a more subtle manner.
Opponent: "I cast Mob Rule to steal all your creatures."
Me: "Ha! Jokes on you! I scour my whole field from existence!"
Opponent: "...What?"
Could be sick? Could be meh? I definitely don't think its bad. Personally, I lurve +1/+1 counter strategies.
You don't bounce rhinos in play, you bounce rhinos on the stack.
Bounce something like Dig Through Time... AFTER they exile their graveyard to cast it. Seriously, a great card.
...FLAGSTONES OF TROKAIR REPRINT!
Nah.
Awaken being such a high-costed mechanic for such little gain-that is easily disruptable, is not an argument towards it NOT being a terrible mechanic.
The thing is, they were pretty decent limited fodder! I mean, even if they died, the Zendikons all had the escape clause of: "Dead land returns to your hand." Which is nice. Nobody wants turning their lands into creatures to become painting a target on them telling the opponent, "Hey, look at this! Hurt my card advantage and my mana-base at the same time!"
Awaken is like the Zendikons... without the escape clause.
This could be a terrible, terrible thing to do...
Unless we get something that either:
A) Benefits for having lands in your graveyards. Maybe in "Sweat"? Spells that do something like, "Draw a card for each land in your graveyard." (Would be utterly broken for the duration of Khans and such spells overlapping, with all the fetches around.)
B) Return dead lands to the hand... or the field! (Crucible of Worlds reprint? Could be justified story-wise now that the Eldrazi are no longer bound to Zendikar. They kinda ARE a crucible of worlds.)
I'm just saying. I'd be pretty leery of using any of these "Awaken" spells when there is the slightest possibility of my opponent burning/destroying my land/creatures.
Wait, seriously? HOT DAMN! I'm buying me some fat packs then!
I've never been more delighted to be dead-wrong in my life!
Warning: Zendikar had full-art lands... except for the fat packs.
You know how sometimes these days, you'll spot a weird zendikar land that does NOT have full art?
Those came from fat packs.
Watch out. While BFZ fat packs MIGHT have the full arts... I wouldn't count on it. Find out first.
First off is Zarian, the Estranged.
Please enjoy and review!
Zarian sighed as he sat upon his bed. He had taken refuge in his room after once more disappointing his father, a highly regarded priest of Avacyn. His father had made no secrets of his plans for his son to take after him in the priesthood, but after a great number of failures on the part of Zarian to pass the initiation into the clergy-trainees, his father was quite vocal in his dissapointment. He had even made mention of the possibility that what Zarian needed was to be sent to an academy where Zarian could at least become an assistant to the clergy, if he could not become a cleric himself.
Zarian was afraid to tell his father that he believed the reason he was doing so poorly in the initiation... was that he did not truly believe in Avacyn.
Oh, he knew that Avacyn existed, but he did not truly believe that she was the answer to all the trouble that plagued Innistrad. After the period of time the previous year when Avacyn had vanished for months, watching the evils in Innistrad near instantly capitalize on her absence, he believed that the people of Innistrad should focus their efforts on gaining the strength to engage the evils in Innistrad in direct combat, instead of blindly putting faith in Avacyn in order to let the Angels take care of things for them. In Zarian's mind, this was the worst sort of combination of laziness and feeble-mindedness, an example of the inability to think for one's self, something he despised.
He fell to his back, head colliding roughly with his pillow, as he placed his arm over his eyes, trying to envision some pathway out of his father's undesirable future for him, but coming up with no conceivable answers. He would prefer to take up apprenticeship with a Geistcatcher, as they used engineering and chemistry, two of Zarian's favorite subjects, to combat the spirits that ran rampant through Nephalia. He knew his father would never approve, but that was becoming less and less of a deterrant, and was beginning to look more like an advantage of this plan. He cursed, the knowledge ever at the front of his mind that without his father's financial, if not emotional, support, the Geistcatchers would never approve of him taking up training with them. They had more than enough applicants to be looking for trainees that could offer them nothing.
He sighed again, rubbing at his eyes, and decided that perhaps the problem would look more approachable in the morning.
He awoke to a pounding on his bedroom door.
"Young master Zarian?" an aged voice tremulously posed.
Zarian yawned before answering. "Yes Maurice?" Maurice was his father's servant. If his father's backup plan of him becoming an assistant to the clergy was put in action, Zarian would become employed in much the same fashion as Maurice was now. It didn't really appeal to him.
Maurice continued. "Your father would like you to join him in the sitting room, young master."
"Thank you Maurice, I'll see him immediately." Zarian returned. He sat up, and quickly dressed, before leaving his room and heading down to the sitting room. He entered the room, and stood, awaiting his father's notice.
After a few minutes of wait, his father looked up from some reports of Vampire activities in the mountains north of Gavony to take notice of his son's presence. "Ah. Zarian. I've received word from Resemwick." Resemwick was the name of the academy that taught those who were to become assistants to the clergy. Maurice had been a top graduate of the academy more than thirty years previously, before coming here to work for his father. "They've accepted your application. You'll be leaving for Resemwick this afternoon, the carriage arrives after lunch. That will be all."
Zarian's throat seized up. Just like that, his father had decided on the course of the rest of his life. If this hadn't been the way that things had always gone, Zarian might have been able to muster up the courage to protest, or argue.
However, the rebellion in his soul had long since been silenced, and his voice remained strained as he replied, "Yes, father," before spinning about and leaving the sitting room. Once he stood once more in his bedroom, he allowed his head to fall, before he sat heavily upon the chair next to his desk. He cradled his head in his hands, despairing at the course his life was taking. But what could he do? He had no resources with which to run away, and he couldn't come up with a plan that would allow him to escape his fate. He was stuck.
The rest of his day had proceeded in a whirl. He had, at some point, packed his few personal possessions into the case he held in his hand as he stepped into the carriage that would take him to Resemwick. The carriage driver closed the door behind him before stepping into the driving seat of the carriage. A crack of the reins started the horses moving again, and the carriage was off.
Zarian looked out the carriage window back towards his father's estate. Maurice was waving him off from the front step. His father was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't seen his father at all since the short meeting with him that morning. Typical.
Zarian sunk into the seat of the carriage, and waited.
He jolted awake as an explosion rocked the carriage. The driver of the carriage shouted in alarm as figures came out of the mist surrounding the roads. It was late in the day, the sun was nearing the earth in the distance, and he could barely make out anything in his immediate vicinity. The carriage driver leaped to the earth, and raised his fists. One of the figures tossed something at the driver, and he clutched at the place that it had struck him, before slumping to the ground. Zarian noticed something pooling around him. The horses were screaming, before one of the figures said something, and they quieted.
Zarian was trembling in fear. Who were these people? What did they want with him? He was sure that they were here for him, there was nothing else on the carriage of any value, and they had just killed the driver. Did they merely want the carriage? Preposterous! There were more people surrounding the carriage than would even fit inside! No, he was sure that he was the prize they were seeking.
One of the figures stepped up to the door of the carriage and opened it. Zarian was pressing himself into the opposite corner of the seat, shivering in anticipation of what the figure would say.
"Come along boy, don't make any trouble." The figure rasped. "We have to be somewhere quite soon, and it's far enough away that we need to move quickly."
Zarian didn't move, he was in too much terror to even stand.
"Now, boy! Don't make us drag you, that wouldn't be fun for any of us, believe me!" The figure snarled. Zarian's muscles unclenched enough for him to stand, and shuffle to the door of the carriage. The figure stepped to the side, and gestured to a horse that two other figures were bringing up. They bound his arms and legs, and draped him over the saddle, before lashing him firmly in place. The rest of the figures mounted up, before tying his horse to one of the others. Soon, they were all on their way, Zarian's journey undoubtedly being much more uncomfortable than those of the riders.
They arrived at a river, at a waterfall that crashed into the water nearby, creating a cacophonous roar that drowned out all the sound nearby. The figures dismounted, two of them unlashing Zarian from his horse and lifting him bodily away. One of the figures led all their mounts away. The rest, with Zarian, tramped towards the waterfall. They slipped behind it, entering a dark cave that led into the earth behind the waterfall.
At this point, Zarian's mind was racing. By now, he was sure of the identity of these people. They were cultists, the Skirsag, and he was certain that what they wanted him for was to be the sacrifice in one of their demonic rites. The thought brought a new wave of terror to Zarian, and he began to shake. The two cultists carrying him noticed his shaking, and laughed. "Ha, this one's finally caught on!" The other cultists sneered and chortled at this.
"Oh, he's a bright one alright. No wonder his father," at this point, the speaker spat, "decided to send him to Resemwick. Thinkers like that don't need to become priests, they'd be wasted in the church." He cackled. Zarian's eyes began to tear up. He knew that he had just had his last moment of being in the outdoors living. At this point, he was beginning to hope that at least his geist might be one of rage, so that he could enact vengeance upon the cultists. Though he knew that the cultists probably had some defence against geists, probably a demonic pact of some sort.
At last, the cultists came into a candlelit chamber, with an altar near the back, and many fiendish runes inscribed into most of the surfaces. Zarian studied one nearby intently. He noted that it seemed to be drawn using a rust-colored substance. Blood.
At this point, Zarian had nearly accepted his fate, though the tautness of his muscles betrayed that he yet held hope of escaping. As he was lain upon the altar, though, his hopes were swiftly falling. They tied each of his limbs to a different corner of the altar. As more cultists entered the chamber, they began to extinguish all the lights in the room except for those on the altar.
One cultist separated from the group, and the rest sat, cross-legged, on the floor of the chamber. The one came up to the altar, and turned towards the crowd.
"Brothers, today is a most auspicious day for us." The voice crooned. Zarian recognized the voice as belonging to the same figure that had drawn him from the carriage. "Today, is the thirteenth sacrifice that we will offer to the demon Quolzog, and thus, the day that we can summon Quolzog from his demonic realm into ours. Today is the day that Quolzog will share with us his powers! Today, is the day that we will strike back against the church, against Avacyn herself!" At this, the crowd was chanting.
"Quol-zog! Quol-zog! Quol-zog!" They maliciously intoned.
"Yes. Quol-zog, hear us! Take our devotion, and grant us your presence!" At this, the speaker spun towards me, and raised an evil-looking dagger above Zarian.
Zarian's heart was pounding in his chest. Was this it? Was this his final moment? It seemed to him that some buried part of his soul was raging in his heart, pounding harder even than the beat that the organ was drumming to fear.
As the dagger fell towards his chest, that part of his soul grew louder and louder, drowning out even the chanting cultists in the background, and just as the dagger pierced his chest, he felt it rush out, out his eyes, blinding him, out his ears, deafening him, out of his mouth, muting his screams, and out his chest, as he felt some incredible power flow out of him...
Zarian awoke, but his eyes didn't open when he wanted them to.
Wait, no, they were open, but he couldn't see anything. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife, some void?
Actually, he could feel that he was sitting in something. Something wet. His vision began to come back to him in spots, pieces of brightness beginning to enter his consciousness. He blinked several times, until suddenly he could see again.
The world around him glowed a strange ethereal color. He looked up, and saw the stars. How did he get outside of the cave? He felt a jolt of pain in his chest, and clutched it. He looked down. His shirt was stained a crimson color. Blood. His blood. The cultist had stabbed him in the chest, hadn't he? How did he survive? And he was sure that he WAS alive. He hurt too much for this not to be real.
After several tries, due to the pain he was in, he managed to stand up. He looked around again. The world around him still glowed a strange shade of blue. He looked up once more, and this time saw the moon. Except it wasn't the moon. Not the moon he was used to, anyways. The moon back home was a silvery grey. This moon was a light blue shade. Much the same color as the glow around him. It was probably causing that glow, actually. That made sense, to him.
He looked down. He seemed to be in a shallow pool of some sort. He trudged to the nearby land. It was a coppery red dirt that his feet sunk into, like mud. He scanned the horizon through the mists around him for landmarks. A city, perhaps, or at least some higher ground. He spotted a far off hill, and began to hike towards it.
When he reached the hill, he began to climb, sitting down whenever the pain in his chest flared, and waited for it to go away. When he finally reached the summit, he took a deep breath before looking around.
He gasped, there was a strange creature in the air hovering a few feet away. It looked like a ridged worm, twisting and contorting through the air. It appeared to notice him, and it spun through the air towards him. He instinctively backed a few feet away, but it came right up to him and began to rub against him, seemingly trying to discover what he was.
He tentatively put out a hand, and it coiled around his arm. Some inner sense of his reached out to the creature, and suddenly he felt an indescribable calm. This creature felt... right. He like this creature. The world around him seemed to emanate an... energy. An energy that put him in mind of the ocean, but this creature, it gave off the feel of his own mind. He felt as much at home with this creature as he ever had in his own room in Gavony.
Suddenly, more of the creatures appeared through the mists. The one around his arm uncoiled, and flew towards them. They all seemed to spin through each other, contorting through the coils of one another, and he would swear that they passed around some energy. After this exchange, all the creatures flew over to him. He put out both of his arms, and the creatures coiled around them before flying away.
They returned, and began to circle him. He waited to see if they would come close to him again, but they didn't. After what seemed like several hours, he decided that no matter how interesting these creatures were, he needed to see if he could find a city. If he could find a city, he was sure that he could use his father's connections in the church to find passage back home. Perhaps after his scare with the cultists, his father would back off on his plans, and even let Zarian attain apprenticeship with the Geistcatchers. He began to trudge off once more.
After several hours of hiking, the strange creatures still circling him, Zarian came upon an incredible sight.
A second moon was emerging from the horizon! This moon a glowing, dusty red!
Zarian's jaw dropped. A second moon? Was... he even on Innistrad anymore? Did he somehow jump to another world? Was some instinctive part of his soul trying to save him from the cultists when he was so close to death?
What could he do? Did this world even have people on it? He hadn't seen any sign that people had ever existed here. He had seen far off colonies of the creatures that were still circling him off in the distance, but he hadn't taken the time away from his journey to check it out.
If this wasn't Innistrad, then what should he do?
He sat down where he stood, and despaired. Could he ever get back home? Maybe he could jump again? Back to Innistrad? But he wasn't even sure he could! Maybe it only happened when he was in danger, and he wasn't about to jump off a cliff or something to find out.
Another one of the creatures, this one slinking over the ground, came up to him. He put out a hand, and the creature reached up to it.
When it touched his hand, he felt a shock, and suddenly something flooded his brain.
He... understood more about these creatures than before. They had ties to the moons, but he wasn't sure how. They had relationships to each other, but he wasn't sure what they were. The faintest impressions of ideas were dancing across his mind, but he couldn't grasp them firmly enough to understand them.
He gained a new resolve. If he was trapped on this world, then he was going to make the most of it. Starting with these creatures.
He was going to find out everything there was to know about these creatures. They seemed to like him, and if they would do what he wanted, then maybe he could get them to help him find a way back home. This wouldn't be that bad! Better than Resemwick, at least.
With a goal in mind, and a happier destiny than he knew could be possible, he set off in a random direction, letting fate guide his way.
I designed a little deck around Zarian, sorta intro-pack style, or maybe Event deck style. I'll post it in a reply to this thing later. I'll reserve the spot for now.