So, I'm playing in a local sealed league. The rules of this league is that we get a new pack each week, have to put our rare into our deck automatically without seeing it, and then play. It's the second week, and I'm playing W/G humans, splashing black. It's turn 4, and my opponent has pulled out the mythic he got initially, Garruk Relentless. I'm a bit worried. I draw...
And put down my rare for the week, Sorin, Lord of Innistrad. We do this little runaround, sort of stalemate, when I ultimate him, taking Garruk, a Skirsdag High Priest, and a Stalking Vampire.
The next week, I'm being menaced by a Mindshrieker, and I have no flyers. I pull the top card...
Shrinking chapter size. I've got more written, but it's not done. Hope this is enough. I'll identify spells used at the end.
“Slow down!” roared Ludevic from behind Ori. Despite his mighty frame, he was not a quick man, and Ori was actually breaking away. Running off the beaten path, he hopped a fence, hoping that Ludevic wouldn’t follow. He didn’t. Ori breathed a sigh of relief. He was alone.
“Alone,” he muttered, that word becoming quite frightening all of the sudden. If this was Innistrad, there was not a worse thing to be. Alone tended to end with you dead in the dark, or worse. Looking around, he came across an ornate manor a few hundred yards ahead a soft music emanating from its well-lit windows. Trudging to it, he peered inside, curious. Several nobly-dressed characters danced elegantly in a great hall as classical music reverberated through the air. Ori couldn’t help but frown. This didn’t look like a Gavony celebration- It was too opulent, too… decadent…
“Vampires,” he whispered, and the music stopped. The whole party turned to the window, looking him straight in the eye with their unsettling black-and-golden eyes. Ori didn’t even have time to back away before they were upon him, surrounding him. From the throng stepped out a beautiful woman, her red hair a dusky flame in the moonlit air. Ori gulped as he recognized the woman- he had beaten a deck with her as commander just a few hours before.
“It seems a little calf has wandered out of his pen,” Olivia Voldaren purred seductively, gazing at Ori like a cat does a mouse. “Have you come to join our party, little boy?” Ori’s mouth went dry, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
“I… I don’t want any trouble,” he said, shaking. Olivia smiled, almost an expression of pity rather than charm.
“Don’t worry, child. It won’t be,” she drawled, stepping over to him and gently touching his cheek. “Mmm… Such a hot-blooded young man. Have you come to beg for our gift? Eternal life, and all it holds?” Ori felt himself getting lightheaded. Persuasion, possession- such were the gifts of the vampire. He breathed sluggishly, heavily, trying to maintain his will. Olivia smiled condescendingly. “Oh, come, dear child. You’ll enjoy eternal life.” Ori looked at her, and then up at the moon, shrouded by clouds. His mind rebelled, clawing at his memories, trying to bring them to the surface, to rouse him. A song from his youth sprung up, from his favorite childhood TV show.
“T-there’s a time… when the moon… reveals its face through the clouds…” Olivia raised an eyebrow slowly.
“What is that, a nursery rhyme?” she asked, amused.
“I let out a sigh,” Ori continued, gaining ground slowly, “and want to cry out loud.” Olivia hissed and yanked away her hand, the flesh singed.
“What incantation is that, boy?” she asked, her tone no longer affable. Ori opened his eyes, now glowing a smoldering red.
“But deep in my heart, I feel, oh, so alive. In the depths of my soul, I know we will survive!” Pulses of warm air burst forth from his feet, buffeting the vampires, and pushing them back a step. “I’m the one they break, in their greed and their pride.” The vampires snarled, jumping at Ori. “But deep in my heart, I feel oh, so alive! In the depths of my soul, I know we will survive!” As Ori barked that last syllable, a wave of fire burst forth from him, blazing through the vampires, and setting the manor and surrounding brush ablaze. Olivia screamed as she was thrown back, her voice joining a chorus of unearthly wails as scads of vampires met the end of their so-called “eternal” life. Ori paused, the burning glow leaving his eyes and being replaced with a look of abject horror. All around him were the bodies and ashes of the dead. A scant few vampires lay alive, but badly wounded, including Olivia. Ori felt sick. This was his fault. He had done this. Catatonic, he barely registered the strong hands that grabbed him and took him away.
Another figure watched from the shadows as Ori was taken away. A newly awakened planeswalker was an interesting development, and an unexpected one. He was inexperienced, but that spell was powerful. If he survived what was yet to come, he could become a fine ally… or a dangerous enemy. However, he had more pressing issues. Standing up, Sorin Markov looked at the moon.
“Avacyn, my angel… Where are you?”
A slap in the face snapped Ori out of his reverie, and brought a new wave of terror and nausea. He was dead. He had to be. He had been grabbed by someone. It must have been Ludevic, or another one of the countless monsters lurking in the dark of Innistrad. Instead, however, a grizzled, but very human face greeted him. The man pulled him up, shaking him.
“You OK, boy?” he barked, causing Ori to flinch slightly.
“Y-yessir…” he mumbled, bowing his head to the older man. The man sighed, and beat some dust off his hat.
“Well, you’re not a vampire, eyes are normal. Full moon’s out, so you’re no werewolf. Too polite to be a zombie. So, then. Mind telling me what you were doing out in Stensia?”
“Started in Nephalia…” Ori muttered in reply. “Woke up in a drownyard. Ran from a necro-alchemist, wound up finding my way to a vampire party.” The man chuckled.
“Sounds like a warning tale against alcoholism,” he said, gently elbowing him in the ribs. “You’re awfully lucky, you know. Most folks don’t last a night outside the townships, especially in a drownyard. Did your ship sink?” Ori shook his head, but quickly wised up and nodded, earning a confused frown out of the man. “Well, which one is it?”
“Yeah, the ship sank… I was just shaking my head to clear it. One doesn’t exactly want to remember these things. We were set upon… by geists,” he muttered, pulling from the card lore that he knew. “They spirited away the crew, one by one, until I was the only one left. I held them off as best I could, but I could not steer the ship, and it crashed into the rocks. Fortune must have smiled on me, in a way, and floated me to shore.” As Ori finished his story, he silently applauded himself for coming up with a story that quickly. The man nodded, before looking up.
“One more question, friend,” the man said, his tone a bit more serious. “What did you do to those vampires?”
Ori froze up. “I…” he gulped. He had to tell the truth, but from what he had read, the Innistradi people were paranoid and suspicious- for good reason, clearly. He hoped his answer wouldn’t damn him.
“To tell you the truth… I’m not sure. I was surrounded by the vampires, and they were trying to… hypnotize me, or something. I muttered the words to an old song from my memory to try and keep my head, and I was just… wreathed in flames. They got brighter and hotter as I went on, and as I finished it, it just blasted out in all directions. Their screams were absolutely ghastly…” Ori shuddered, as the man patted him on the back reassuringly.
“There, there, m’boy. You’ve done humanity a debt with that. I figure you’re either a fantastic actor, or you’re not in league with demons. Too honest a storyteller, y’know.” Ori laughed, then hissed as he became aware of the fairly painful burn wounds on his hands and cheek. The man sighed.
“Either way, though, I’d like to take you somewhere where someone can properly treat those burns. That alright?” Ori nodded in response.
“Good, good. I’m Gaston, by the way. I’m a cathar.” Ori’s eyes widened a bit, and he smiled. A cathar was a good person to be rescued by. Avacyn’s holy soldiers were humanity’s greatest protectors on this world- there was no place safer to be than with them. He took Gaston’s outstretched hand, and got up, ready to go.
SPELLS USED: Past In Flames: Turns memories into firepower!
I make no apologies for using the Cybersix theme. It's a good memory.
The man walked through the ruins of Eiganjo, his eyes downcast. It had been many years since it had been destroyed, before even the Brothers’ War, though that was also many years past and many planes away. Throughout the years, it had remained reviled as the location of the first attack of the former spirit of Kamigawa itself, O-Kagachi, the World-Serpent. Because of the dark history of the ruins, they were considered far viler than anything in the bogs of Numai, and not even the Nezumi would come near it. Perfect for a little treasure hunt. Navigating through ruined chambers and fields of long-since-decomposed soldiers, he approached his target, a dilapidated armory. Kicking apart the termite-eaten door, he walked past row after row of rusted kabuto helmets, and pitted No-Dachi and Wakizashi swords, his eyes fixed on the amazingly pristine relic ahead. During the reign of Konda, many banners had been made for his cavalry to display during skirmishes with the kami, as if the very gods themselves were meant to bow down to pathetic human feudalism. Unlike the others, however, there was real power within this banner, and lots of it; the power to inspire, to call to action one’s brethren, was a great magic indeed, and whoever held it gained the ability to do so. Taking hold of it reverently, he lifted it up high, allowing the rays of the setting sun to strike the magically-enhanced silk. The insignia lit up, bathing the ground below it in radiant orange. Satisfied, the man prepared to leave. As he began his walk through worlds, however, he found himself held back by the omnipresent force he had felt watching him since he first arrived.
“Sisters of Flesh and Spirit,” he intoned softly, “I have no quarrel with you, nor do I seek to disrupt the harmony of your plane. Please, let me be.” Two figures walked out of the swirling mists of the Blind Eternities, to address him.
“We know of your kind, Planeswalker. We know the pox your fellows bring upon every world you visit. Do not lie to us.” The man shrugged.
“I do not lie. I am on a mission of collection only. A few worn trinkets are all I desire,” the man said, without a hint of guile or deception in his voice. The Sisters narrowed their eyes.
“And you desire these “trinkets”… why, exactly?” they asked, a note of curiosity behind their guarded tone. The man smiled beneath his wide-brimmed straw hat.
“I desire… Something to leave behind after I have gone. A Legacy, if you will.” The Sisters paused. No matter where in the universe it was uttered, that word held great meaning. It was not one used often in vain. The Sisters looked at each other, then at the man.
“Very well, Planeswalker. You may leave. Do not darken our world any longer.” The two stepped away from the man, and he was alone. He adjusted his hat and chuckled softly.
“It’s good to be back,” said Urza Planeswalker, as he walked between worlds.
------------
Ori grinned wickedly as his Tsabo’s Decree spell resolved, wiping the other player’s board and hand of the angels he was so fond of, and opening him up to attack freely.
“Swing with Sek’Kuar. Good game.” Scooping up his cards, he took the outstretched hand of his opponent, shaking it. “And sign here…” he said, pointing a pen at the results sheet. Sighing, the other player scrawled a signature, and handed it to him. Taking it happily, Ori stood up, combing his dark hair back. He had gotten a bit too excited in the EDH match. Not a great habit, but it had been a great game. Picking up the record slip, he brought it over to the front desk. “4-0, Raymond.” The store owner looked at the slip, and nodded impassively.
“Guess you win, then. How was the whole thing?” he asked, typing some DCI information into a computer. Ori smiled and wiggled his hand.
“Not too bad. EDH gets a lot of players these days, and it’s a lot more fun. I almost want to say that you should replace the Yu-Gi-Oh tournaments with it,” he said, getting a look from Raymond.
“You know I can’t do that, man. Those guys drop a hundred on a single card. I sell whole boxes of Magic for the same price. Which do you think is better for business?”
“Come on, Raymond,” Ori said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “they treat everyone else like garbage, and they smell awful.”
“Be that as it may, they’re too valuable to lose,” Raymond responded wearily. “And besides, I make them keep to themselves on the other side of the divider.”
“Really? That guy begs to differ,” Ori said, pointing to a pusillanimous man playing cards on a table. Raymond groaned, getting up and trudging over them.
“Hey, the Yu-Gi-Oh section is on the other side. Do you mind moving over?” he asked, polite yet firm. The man of them looked up, and Ori resisted a cringe. The guy was a complete stereotype. Beady eyes resting behind dirty glasses darted between Ori and Raymond. His face was a veritable minefield of acne, yellowed pimples repulsively stuck to his face. He licked his lips nervously, saliva catching on his pencil-thin, patchy mustache. He rubbed his sweaty hands on an orange-stained Twilight Sparkle T-shirt and bomber jacket, and stood up, scratching his greasy, strawlike hair. Ori closed his eyes as flakes of dandruff fell onto his playmat, flakes falling onto the panties of the faded magical girl- “Busty Buster Momo-chan,” was written in the corner. He breathed in shallowly.
“It’s a free country, I can play where I want,” he wheezed in a nasally drawl. Ori breathed in sharply. That was the wrong thing to say to Raymond.
To his credit, Raymond did try to keep his temper. “Listen,” he said evenly, with more than a hint of ire evident. “In here? I make the rules. If I say you have to play behind the divider, you do it. If you don’t like it, get out.”
“But I’m a customer!” the neckbeard wheezed, spittle foaming up at the corners of his mouth. “The customer is always right!”
“You bought a single bag of Cheetos 3 hours ago,” Raymond hissed, “and half of it is on my furniture. Other than that, all you’ve done is take up space, and flagrantly disregard rules. Get out.”
“But-“
“NOW.” Raymond’s voice, booming and furious, shut up the neckbeard, and he shrank back, revealing 2 more chins. He quickly packed his “Momo-Chan” sleeved cards in his Rainbow Dash deck box, and rolled up his mat. As he waddled out, he turned around, his pasty face a blotchy red.
“This isn’t over! I’m calling the Better Business Bureau on your ass!” he said, before running out as Raymond followed him.
“Try it, assclown!” he yelled out into the parking lot angrily, before slamming the door. Another guy, considerably more normal looking, save for the scraggly goatee on his face, poked his head up from behind the divider.
“That guy gives us a bad name,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes wearily. Raymond sighed and shook his head.
“No, you guys follow the rules. You’re fine. It’s the ones who don’t that piss me off. I’ll act the same way for anyone here.” The bearded one nodded, understanding. Ori, in the meantime, was looking outside.
“Got a bad feeling about that guy…”
--------------
Ori walked out of the Wendy’s full and happy. “Mmm…” he said blissfully, walking towards his car. This was his favorite part of town- Wendy’s, the game store, a model shop, and a Barnes & Noble, all within 300 feet of each other. All it needed was a video game shop, and it would be geek heaven. Putting his key in the car door, he opened it, ready for a relaxing evening of lousy Williams Street shows…
*CRASH*
Ori looked up, alarmed. There was a light inside the game store. He raised an eyebrow. Raymond closed shop at midnight, and it was 1 AM. Something was wrong. Creeping over to the door, he barely avoided the shards of glass on the ground, glimmering weakly in the moonlight. That explained the crash. Sneaking through the already-ajar door, Ori went into the shop to find the source of the light. From what he could tell, nothing had been taken. Yet. He turned quickly, seeing the flashlight’s glow from the other side of the divider. He walked over just in time to see a familiar figure smash the Yu-Gi-Oh display case.
“Oi!” he yelled, incensed. The neckbeard whirled around, sweat dripping from his piggish face. There was a moment of tense silence, save for Neckbeard’s wheezing, shallow breath. Neckbeard was the first to crack, trying to run away, to get away from the discoverer of his crime. Ori reacted quickly, lashing out and smashing Neckbeard’s face into the glass. He reared back a bit, cringing. He hadn’t meant to do that- He just wanted to stop the guy, not knock him out. He silently breathed a sigh of relief when the disgusting man picked himself up, shaking and snuffling like a pig. “What the hell are you doing here, man?”
“I’b *snrrrrf* here for payback,” Neckbeard gargled. “Oh god, by dose is bleedig! You sudubba-“
“Hey!” yelled Ori, getting angrier and angrier at the louse of a man. “Shut the hell up! This isn’t payback, it’s breaking and entering! That’s a felony! You want to go to jail?”
“Why would I go to jail?” Neckbeard asked guilelessly. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Eye for an eye, y’know- I’m entitled to this stuff.” Ori’s jaw went slack.
“You can’t possibly believe that,” he muttered, rubbing his chin in disbelief. “You’d have to be some sort of sociopath to realistically come to that conclusion. I’m calling the police.” Pulling out his phone, he started dialing 911.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Hi, I’d like to report a- Hggk!” Ori looked down to see the knife sticking out of his left side, held by Neckbeard. A monstrous, ratlike grin was on his face as he twisted it, the pain causing Ori to drop the phone.
“Hello? Sir? Are you-“ Neckbeard stomped on the phone, crushing it under his foot.
“You’re guilty too,” he gargled, his eyes wide with madness. “You tried to stop me. You’re as guilty as the owner. You deserve this.” He sneered at Ori, laughing a nasal, phlegmy laugh. Ori’s fist shook, his rage overtaking the pain. Grabbing Neckbeard by the throat and smashed him into the ground, railing into him with punch after punch, reducing Neckbeard’s face to a bloody pulp even as he began to bleed out. After a minute though, the blood loss was too much, and Ori fell over, gasping for breath. It couldn’t end like this. He wouldn’t let it end like this. His rage continued building, even as his life ebbed away. Shaking in anger, he cursed the neckbearded psychopath as his vision darkened.
And then the world exploded.
Ori felt himself being yanked away, and flung into a vastness he had never known. In the distance, he could see- no, feel- other places, lands never explored by Columbus, Magellan, any Earthbound explorer. He reached out for them-
And found himself stuck. Trapped in a mirelike morass, that stuck to his limbs, pinning him. The more he struggled against it, the more it trapped him, like some insidious cosmic spiderweb. He felt the vast endlessness eroding at his being, even as he became further entrenched in the mysterious wall. Panic set in, but was soon replaced with more rage. He had been through too much today to die like this, alone and pathetic. His rage continued to burn and seethe, even as his life once more began to slip away. All of the sudden, he felt that explosive sensation again, and he was free, hurtling through the maddening endlessness. However, the damage was done, and he was slipping away…
As he fell unconscious, a tendril of raw, erratic energy, a helix of red and white, bloomed out from one of the passing worldscapes. It seemed to embrace Ori’s body for a minute, coiling around him and seeping into him, filling a void that existed in every person on Earth. As that hole was filled, he began to bank, falling towards a dark world that was only beginning to see sunlight…
---------------
The dirt didn’t taste nearly as good as Wendy’s, Ori thought as he came to, spitting out the loamy soil. Wiping his face and his jeans, he shakily stood up, looking at his surroundings. A dark, angry sea filled with the wrecks of massive schooner ships greeted him, rotting planks creaking like arthritic fingers in the churning brine. He himself was steadying himself on a gravestone marked with a Y-shaped symbol, rather than the usual cross. It was all too familiar to Ori, but he couldn’t place the source…
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he sat on the tombstone, wondering what had happened. He had been stabbed by Neckbeard, and after beating the pulp out of him, had collapsed. Then he was... hurtling through space. Now he was here, wherever that was. There were no places like this anywhere in town, that was for sure.
“Oi!” someone yelled from behind Ori, snapping him out of his contemplative reverie. Ori turned to see a man that could only be described as Doc Brown mixed with both Dios- Ronnie James and Brando. A shock of white hair decorated the head of the colossal man, framing a truly wild grin. A tight lab coat, covered in stiches, barely covered the man’s overly muscled frame. Next to him was a small wagon with a large egg inside, suspended by what looked like primitive tesla coils.
“Well now!” he bellowed theatrically, waving a stitched hand in the air. “Looks like we’ve got a beating heart in my drownyard! How INTERESTING!”
“Drownyard?” Ori asked, confused. He had seen something with that name earlier…
“Yes, boy. I get the parts for my experiments here. Perhaps you’re here to donate?” The man punctuated his query with a long, mad laugh, and Ori’s blood ran cold. He knew where he was.
“This is… Nephalia?”
“Give the boy a PRIZE!” the man bellowed, laughing hysterically.
“…And you are?” Ori asked, gulping. The man stopped laughing, and sighed loudly.
“You mean to tell me that you’ve never heard of the great Necro-Alchemist, Ludevic?” he asked, pouting almost childishly. Ori’s eyes widened.
“YOU’RE Ludevic?” he asked, gobsmacked. The necro-alchemist puffed out his chest in pride.
“The one and only! Now, let’s get back to the subject at hand. You were about to donate your body to my experiments.”
“Um…” Ori said quietly, before breaking into a run away from the madman and his insidious wagon. Ludevic merely chuckled before giving chase, the wagon tethered to his waist.
To be honest, this deck has no specific win condition. I haven't lost with it yet, but I've never won the same way twice. I've milled opponents out, overrun them, done all sorts of weird things. It works great, but it's unpredictable.
And put down my rare for the week, Sorin, Lord of Innistrad. We do this little runaround, sort of stalemate, when I ultimate him, taking Garruk, a Skirsdag High Priest, and a Stalking Vampire.
The next week, I'm being menaced by a Mindshrieker, and I have no flyers. I pull the top card...
Sigarda, Host of Herons.
It's been a good series.
Sarkhan The Mad
“Slow down!” roared Ludevic from behind Ori. Despite his mighty frame, he was not a quick man, and Ori was actually breaking away. Running off the beaten path, he hopped a fence, hoping that Ludevic wouldn’t follow. He didn’t. Ori breathed a sigh of relief. He was alone.
“Alone,” he muttered, that word becoming quite frightening all of the sudden. If this was Innistrad, there was not a worse thing to be. Alone tended to end with you dead in the dark, or worse. Looking around, he came across an ornate manor a few hundred yards ahead a soft music emanating from its well-lit windows. Trudging to it, he peered inside, curious. Several nobly-dressed characters danced elegantly in a great hall as classical music reverberated through the air. Ori couldn’t help but frown. This didn’t look like a Gavony celebration- It was too opulent, too… decadent…
“Vampires,” he whispered, and the music stopped. The whole party turned to the window, looking him straight in the eye with their unsettling black-and-golden eyes. Ori didn’t even have time to back away before they were upon him, surrounding him. From the throng stepped out a beautiful woman, her red hair a dusky flame in the moonlit air. Ori gulped as he recognized the woman- he had beaten a deck with her as commander just a few hours before.
“It seems a little calf has wandered out of his pen,” Olivia Voldaren purred seductively, gazing at Ori like a cat does a mouse. “Have you come to join our party, little boy?” Ori’s mouth went dry, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
“I… I don’t want any trouble,” he said, shaking. Olivia smiled, almost an expression of pity rather than charm.
“Don’t worry, child. It won’t be,” she drawled, stepping over to him and gently touching his cheek. “Mmm… Such a hot-blooded young man. Have you come to beg for our gift? Eternal life, and all it holds?” Ori felt himself getting lightheaded. Persuasion, possession- such were the gifts of the vampire. He breathed sluggishly, heavily, trying to maintain his will. Olivia smiled condescendingly. “Oh, come, dear child. You’ll enjoy eternal life.” Ori looked at her, and then up at the moon, shrouded by clouds. His mind rebelled, clawing at his memories, trying to bring them to the surface, to rouse him. A song from his youth sprung up, from his favorite childhood TV show.
“T-there’s a time… when the moon… reveals its face through the clouds…” Olivia raised an eyebrow slowly.
“What is that, a nursery rhyme?” she asked, amused.
“I let out a sigh,” Ori continued, gaining ground slowly, “and want to cry out loud.” Olivia hissed and yanked away her hand, the flesh singed.
“What incantation is that, boy?” she asked, her tone no longer affable. Ori opened his eyes, now glowing a smoldering red.
“But deep in my heart, I feel, oh, so alive. In the depths of my soul, I know we will survive!” Pulses of warm air burst forth from his feet, buffeting the vampires, and pushing them back a step. “I’m the one they break, in their greed and their pride.” The vampires snarled, jumping at Ori. “But deep in my heart, I feel oh, so alive! In the depths of my soul, I know we will survive!” As Ori barked that last syllable, a wave of fire burst forth from him, blazing through the vampires, and setting the manor and surrounding brush ablaze. Olivia screamed as she was thrown back, her voice joining a chorus of unearthly wails as scads of vampires met the end of their so-called “eternal” life. Ori paused, the burning glow leaving his eyes and being replaced with a look of abject horror. All around him were the bodies and ashes of the dead. A scant few vampires lay alive, but badly wounded, including Olivia. Ori felt sick. This was his fault. He had done this. Catatonic, he barely registered the strong hands that grabbed him and took him away.
Another figure watched from the shadows as Ori was taken away. A newly awakened planeswalker was an interesting development, and an unexpected one. He was inexperienced, but that spell was powerful. If he survived what was yet to come, he could become a fine ally… or a dangerous enemy. However, he had more pressing issues. Standing up, Sorin Markov looked at the moon.
“Avacyn, my angel… Where are you?”
A slap in the face snapped Ori out of his reverie, and brought a new wave of terror and nausea. He was dead. He had to be. He had been grabbed by someone. It must have been Ludevic, or another one of the countless monsters lurking in the dark of Innistrad. Instead, however, a grizzled, but very human face greeted him. The man pulled him up, shaking him.
“You OK, boy?” he barked, causing Ori to flinch slightly.
“Y-yessir…” he mumbled, bowing his head to the older man. The man sighed, and beat some dust off his hat.
“Well, you’re not a vampire, eyes are normal. Full moon’s out, so you’re no werewolf. Too polite to be a zombie. So, then. Mind telling me what you were doing out in Stensia?”
“Started in Nephalia…” Ori muttered in reply. “Woke up in a drownyard. Ran from a necro-alchemist, wound up finding my way to a vampire party.” The man chuckled.
“Sounds like a warning tale against alcoholism,” he said, gently elbowing him in the ribs. “You’re awfully lucky, you know. Most folks don’t last a night outside the townships, especially in a drownyard. Did your ship sink?” Ori shook his head, but quickly wised up and nodded, earning a confused frown out of the man. “Well, which one is it?”
“Yeah, the ship sank… I was just shaking my head to clear it. One doesn’t exactly want to remember these things. We were set upon… by geists,” he muttered, pulling from the card lore that he knew. “They spirited away the crew, one by one, until I was the only one left. I held them off as best I could, but I could not steer the ship, and it crashed into the rocks. Fortune must have smiled on me, in a way, and floated me to shore.” As Ori finished his story, he silently applauded himself for coming up with a story that quickly. The man nodded, before looking up.
“One more question, friend,” the man said, his tone a bit more serious. “What did you do to those vampires?”
Ori froze up. “I…” he gulped. He had to tell the truth, but from what he had read, the Innistradi people were paranoid and suspicious- for good reason, clearly. He hoped his answer wouldn’t damn him.
“To tell you the truth… I’m not sure. I was surrounded by the vampires, and they were trying to… hypnotize me, or something. I muttered the words to an old song from my memory to try and keep my head, and I was just… wreathed in flames. They got brighter and hotter as I went on, and as I finished it, it just blasted out in all directions. Their screams were absolutely ghastly…” Ori shuddered, as the man patted him on the back reassuringly.
“There, there, m’boy. You’ve done humanity a debt with that. I figure you’re either a fantastic actor, or you’re not in league with demons. Too honest a storyteller, y’know.” Ori laughed, then hissed as he became aware of the fairly painful burn wounds on his hands and cheek. The man sighed.
“Either way, though, I’d like to take you somewhere where someone can properly treat those burns. That alright?” Ori nodded in response.
“Good, good. I’m Gaston, by the way. I’m a cathar.” Ori’s eyes widened a bit, and he smiled. A cathar was a good person to be rescued by. Avacyn’s holy soldiers were humanity’s greatest protectors on this world- there was no place safer to be than with them. He took Gaston’s outstretched hand, and got up, ready to go.
SPELLS USED: Past In Flames: Turns memories into firepower!
I make no apologies for using the Cybersix theme. It's a good memory.
“Sisters of Flesh and Spirit,” he intoned softly, “I have no quarrel with you, nor do I seek to disrupt the harmony of your plane. Please, let me be.” Two figures walked out of the swirling mists of the Blind Eternities, to address him.
“We know of your kind, Planeswalker. We know the pox your fellows bring upon every world you visit. Do not lie to us.” The man shrugged.
“I do not lie. I am on a mission of collection only. A few worn trinkets are all I desire,” the man said, without a hint of guile or deception in his voice. The Sisters narrowed their eyes.
“And you desire these “trinkets”… why, exactly?” they asked, a note of curiosity behind their guarded tone. The man smiled beneath his wide-brimmed straw hat.
“I desire… Something to leave behind after I have gone. A Legacy, if you will.” The Sisters paused. No matter where in the universe it was uttered, that word held great meaning. It was not one used often in vain. The Sisters looked at each other, then at the man.
“Very well, Planeswalker. You may leave. Do not darken our world any longer.” The two stepped away from the man, and he was alone. He adjusted his hat and chuckled softly.
“It’s good to be back,” said Urza Planeswalker, as he walked between worlds.
------------
Ori grinned wickedly as his Tsabo’s Decree spell resolved, wiping the other player’s board and hand of the angels he was so fond of, and opening him up to attack freely.
“Swing with Sek’Kuar. Good game.” Scooping up his cards, he took the outstretched hand of his opponent, shaking it. “And sign here…” he said, pointing a pen at the results sheet. Sighing, the other player scrawled a signature, and handed it to him. Taking it happily, Ori stood up, combing his dark hair back. He had gotten a bit too excited in the EDH match. Not a great habit, but it had been a great game. Picking up the record slip, he brought it over to the front desk. “4-0, Raymond.” The store owner looked at the slip, and nodded impassively.
“Guess you win, then. How was the whole thing?” he asked, typing some DCI information into a computer. Ori smiled and wiggled his hand.
“Not too bad. EDH gets a lot of players these days, and it’s a lot more fun. I almost want to say that you should replace the Yu-Gi-Oh tournaments with it,” he said, getting a look from Raymond.
“You know I can’t do that, man. Those guys drop a hundred on a single card. I sell whole boxes of Magic for the same price. Which do you think is better for business?”
“Come on, Raymond,” Ori said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “they treat everyone else like garbage, and they smell awful.”
“Be that as it may, they’re too valuable to lose,” Raymond responded wearily. “And besides, I make them keep to themselves on the other side of the divider.”
“Really? That guy begs to differ,” Ori said, pointing to a pusillanimous man playing cards on a table. Raymond groaned, getting up and trudging over them.
“Hey, the Yu-Gi-Oh section is on the other side. Do you mind moving over?” he asked, polite yet firm. The man of them looked up, and Ori resisted a cringe. The guy was a complete stereotype. Beady eyes resting behind dirty glasses darted between Ori and Raymond. His face was a veritable minefield of acne, yellowed pimples repulsively stuck to his face. He licked his lips nervously, saliva catching on his pencil-thin, patchy mustache. He rubbed his sweaty hands on an orange-stained Twilight Sparkle T-shirt and bomber jacket, and stood up, scratching his greasy, strawlike hair. Ori closed his eyes as flakes of dandruff fell onto his playmat, flakes falling onto the panties of the faded magical girl- “Busty Buster Momo-chan,” was written in the corner. He breathed in shallowly.
“It’s a free country, I can play where I want,” he wheezed in a nasally drawl. Ori breathed in sharply. That was the wrong thing to say to Raymond.
To his credit, Raymond did try to keep his temper. “Listen,” he said evenly, with more than a hint of ire evident. “In here? I make the rules. If I say you have to play behind the divider, you do it. If you don’t like it, get out.”
“But I’m a customer!” the neckbeard wheezed, spittle foaming up at the corners of his mouth. “The customer is always right!”
“You bought a single bag of Cheetos 3 hours ago,” Raymond hissed, “and half of it is on my furniture. Other than that, all you’ve done is take up space, and flagrantly disregard rules. Get out.”
“But-“
“NOW.” Raymond’s voice, booming and furious, shut up the neckbeard, and he shrank back, revealing 2 more chins. He quickly packed his “Momo-Chan” sleeved cards in his Rainbow Dash deck box, and rolled up his mat. As he waddled out, he turned around, his pasty face a blotchy red.
“This isn’t over! I’m calling the Better Business Bureau on your ass!” he said, before running out as Raymond followed him.
“Try it, assclown!” he yelled out into the parking lot angrily, before slamming the door. Another guy, considerably more normal looking, save for the scraggly goatee on his face, poked his head up from behind the divider.
“That guy gives us a bad name,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes wearily. Raymond sighed and shook his head.
“No, you guys follow the rules. You’re fine. It’s the ones who don’t that piss me off. I’ll act the same way for anyone here.” The bearded one nodded, understanding. Ori, in the meantime, was looking outside.
“Got a bad feeling about that guy…”
--------------
Ori walked out of the Wendy’s full and happy. “Mmm…” he said blissfully, walking towards his car. This was his favorite part of town- Wendy’s, the game store, a model shop, and a Barnes & Noble, all within 300 feet of each other. All it needed was a video game shop, and it would be geek heaven. Putting his key in the car door, he opened it, ready for a relaxing evening of lousy Williams Street shows…
*CRASH*
Ori looked up, alarmed. There was a light inside the game store. He raised an eyebrow. Raymond closed shop at midnight, and it was 1 AM. Something was wrong. Creeping over to the door, he barely avoided the shards of glass on the ground, glimmering weakly in the moonlight. That explained the crash. Sneaking through the already-ajar door, Ori went into the shop to find the source of the light. From what he could tell, nothing had been taken. Yet. He turned quickly, seeing the flashlight’s glow from the other side of the divider. He walked over just in time to see a familiar figure smash the Yu-Gi-Oh display case.
“Oi!” he yelled, incensed. The neckbeard whirled around, sweat dripping from his piggish face. There was a moment of tense silence, save for Neckbeard’s wheezing, shallow breath. Neckbeard was the first to crack, trying to run away, to get away from the discoverer of his crime. Ori reacted quickly, lashing out and smashing Neckbeard’s face into the glass. He reared back a bit, cringing. He hadn’t meant to do that- He just wanted to stop the guy, not knock him out. He silently breathed a sigh of relief when the disgusting man picked himself up, shaking and snuffling like a pig. “What the hell are you doing here, man?”
“I’b *snrrrrf* here for payback,” Neckbeard gargled. “Oh god, by dose is bleedig! You sudubba-“
“Hey!” yelled Ori, getting angrier and angrier at the louse of a man. “Shut the hell up! This isn’t payback, it’s breaking and entering! That’s a felony! You want to go to jail?”
“Why would I go to jail?” Neckbeard asked guilelessly. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Eye for an eye, y’know- I’m entitled to this stuff.” Ori’s jaw went slack.
“You can’t possibly believe that,” he muttered, rubbing his chin in disbelief. “You’d have to be some sort of sociopath to realistically come to that conclusion. I’m calling the police.” Pulling out his phone, he started dialing 911.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Hi, I’d like to report a- Hggk!” Ori looked down to see the knife sticking out of his left side, held by Neckbeard. A monstrous, ratlike grin was on his face as he twisted it, the pain causing Ori to drop the phone.
“Hello? Sir? Are you-“ Neckbeard stomped on the phone, crushing it under his foot.
“You’re guilty too,” he gargled, his eyes wide with madness. “You tried to stop me. You’re as guilty as the owner. You deserve this.” He sneered at Ori, laughing a nasal, phlegmy laugh. Ori’s fist shook, his rage overtaking the pain. Grabbing Neckbeard by the throat and smashed him into the ground, railing into him with punch after punch, reducing Neckbeard’s face to a bloody pulp even as he began to bleed out. After a minute though, the blood loss was too much, and Ori fell over, gasping for breath. It couldn’t end like this. He wouldn’t let it end like this. His rage continued building, even as his life ebbed away. Shaking in anger, he cursed the neckbearded psychopath as his vision darkened.
And then the world exploded.
Ori felt himself being yanked away, and flung into a vastness he had never known. In the distance, he could see- no, feel- other places, lands never explored by Columbus, Magellan, any Earthbound explorer. He reached out for them-
And found himself stuck. Trapped in a mirelike morass, that stuck to his limbs, pinning him. The more he struggled against it, the more it trapped him, like some insidious cosmic spiderweb. He felt the vast endlessness eroding at his being, even as he became further entrenched in the mysterious wall. Panic set in, but was soon replaced with more rage. He had been through too much today to die like this, alone and pathetic. His rage continued to burn and seethe, even as his life once more began to slip away. All of the sudden, he felt that explosive sensation again, and he was free, hurtling through the maddening endlessness. However, the damage was done, and he was slipping away…
As he fell unconscious, a tendril of raw, erratic energy, a helix of red and white, bloomed out from one of the passing worldscapes. It seemed to embrace Ori’s body for a minute, coiling around him and seeping into him, filling a void that existed in every person on Earth. As that hole was filled, he began to bank, falling towards a dark world that was only beginning to see sunlight…
---------------
The dirt didn’t taste nearly as good as Wendy’s, Ori thought as he came to, spitting out the loamy soil. Wiping his face and his jeans, he shakily stood up, looking at his surroundings. A dark, angry sea filled with the wrecks of massive schooner ships greeted him, rotting planks creaking like arthritic fingers in the churning brine. He himself was steadying himself on a gravestone marked with a Y-shaped symbol, rather than the usual cross. It was all too familiar to Ori, but he couldn’t place the source…
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he sat on the tombstone, wondering what had happened. He had been stabbed by Neckbeard, and after beating the pulp out of him, had collapsed. Then he was... hurtling through space. Now he was here, wherever that was. There were no places like this anywhere in town, that was for sure.
“Oi!” someone yelled from behind Ori, snapping him out of his contemplative reverie. Ori turned to see a man that could only be described as Doc Brown mixed with both Dios- Ronnie James and Brando. A shock of white hair decorated the head of the colossal man, framing a truly wild grin. A tight lab coat, covered in stiches, barely covered the man’s overly muscled frame. Next to him was a small wagon with a large egg inside, suspended by what looked like primitive tesla coils.
“Well now!” he bellowed theatrically, waving a stitched hand in the air. “Looks like we’ve got a beating heart in my drownyard! How INTERESTING!”
“Drownyard?” Ori asked, confused. He had seen something with that name earlier…
“Yes, boy. I get the parts for my experiments here. Perhaps you’re here to donate?” The man punctuated his query with a long, mad laugh, and Ori’s blood ran cold. He knew where he was.
“This is… Nephalia?”
“Give the boy a PRIZE!” the man bellowed, laughing hysterically.
“…And you are?” Ori asked, gulping. The man stopped laughing, and sighed loudly.
“You mean to tell me that you’ve never heard of the great Necro-Alchemist, Ludevic?” he asked, pouting almost childishly. Ori’s eyes widened.
“YOU’RE Ludevic?” he asked, gobsmacked. The necro-alchemist puffed out his chest in pride.
“The one and only! Now, let’s get back to the subject at hand. You were about to donate your body to my experiments.”
“Um…” Ori said quietly, before breaking into a run away from the madman and his insidious wagon. Ludevic merely chuckled before giving chase, the wagon tethered to his waist.
Ejnewmusic's Commander Deck-Quirk Bomb
Commander:
Sek'Kuar, Deathkeeper
Creatures:
Predator Dragon
Hellrider
Xathrid Demon
Skullmulcher
Wolfbriar Elemental
Joiner Adept
Spawnwrithe
Nirkana Revenant
Birds of Paradise
Ant Queen
Drana, Kalastria Bloodchief
Savra, Queen of the Golgari
Sisters of Stone Death
Pyre Zombie
Rampaging Baloths
Predator Ooze
Broodmate Dragon
Charnelhoard Wurm
Deepfire Elemental
Lightning Reaver
Lyzolda, the Blood Witch
Wilderness Elemental
Burning-Tree Shaman
Borborygmos
Dragon Broodmother
Ulasht, the Hate Seed
Instants:
Sudden Spoiling
Grim Harvest
Comet Storm
Sorceries:
Green Sun's Zenith
Weird Harvest
Curse of the Cabal
Consuming Vapors
Bitter Ordeal
Boom//Bust
Lavalanche
Violent Ultimatum
Black Sun's Zenith
Praetor's Council
Enchantments:
Prismatic Omen
Asceticism
Feed the Pack
Nettlevine Blight
Rancor
Pattern of Rebirth
Mirri's Guile
Vicious Shadows
Electropotence
Grave Pact
Predatory Advantage
Artifacts:
Rings of Brighthearth
Mindslaver
Konda's Banner
Sol Ring
Skullclamp
Cauldron of Souls
Skull of Ramos
Heart of Ramos
Scythe of the Wretched
Lifeline
Doubling Cube
Lands:
8 Forests
8 Mountains
8 Swamps
Woodland Cemetery
Graven Cairns
Mosswort Bridge
Kessig Wolf Run
Rootbound Crag
Savage Lands
Vivid Crag
Vivid Marsh
Stomping Ground
Planeswalkers:
Garruk Wildspeaker
Garruk Relentless
Tell me what you think.
To be honest, this deck has no specific win condition. I haven't lost with it yet, but I've never won the same way twice. I've milled opponents out, overrun them, done all sorts of weird things. It works great, but it's unpredictable.