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strixhavens-best-printer · 16 days ago

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Serpents At College

“How much incense do you need, Goldie?” Ghostmark asked, his brow furrowing as he watched his older sister wrap up another batch of incense sticks in a cloth and put it in her suitcase.

“Enough to last the school year” was the immediate response from the much smaller nezumi. Goldenscar reached for the next batch. It was a good thing that both of their suitcases were enchanted with Jukai magic to be a lot bigger on the inside. “After all, I have a lot of work to do since we won’t have shrines there. I need to get another ofuda before we go.” At least Koda had agreed to handle everything at Jinja Dokuchi while the two were gone.

Ghostmark frowned and fidgeted with his own suitcase, even though it was already packed. In addition to normal things he’d need for the trip like clothes, he was bringing a few gadgets to tinker with. He didn’t really know why he agreed to attend Strixhaven with Goldenscar – after all, he couldn’t use magic – but he had gotten accepted during the tests thanks to his gadgets. He was going to focus on the least-magical courses and hope that was enough to get him through the school year.

He briefly wished that he had the same natural abilities and skills with magic that Koda and Goldenscar did. Goldenscar had the blessings of two kami to channel and extensive practice with both the purification magic of her first-rank priest position and the magic from the Dokuchi Reckoner tattoos. And Koda... Well. Ghostmark could try to remember and list everything Koda could do for the rest of the day, and he still wouldn’t reach the end. It made Ghostmark feel pretty small in comparison...which was hard to do more literally, considering he was eight feet tall. Ogres like him just kept getting taller as they got older.

“Do you think he’ll be okay without us?” Ghostmark finally asked. “I mean, he was getting better about relying on me as his second-in-command, but...”

“He’s still got Tsuji, Matona, Short, and Itomi while we’re gone,” Goldenscar reassured. “And we’re still tapped into the telepathic network. If he needs us, he’ll let us know.”

Ghostmark put his hands on his hips. “Uh huh. After spending years not doing that?”

Goldenscar paused in her packing. “...Fair point,” his older sister acknowledged. Her left ear twitched a little. “But like you said, he’s getting better about it.” She continued packing.

Ghostmark still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to all of this. Their brother was sly, always working on a plan and never really telling the whole truth about said plan. It was what made him such a good Reckoner boss.

Ichiro Hayashi and Yuna Suzuki were still alive. Based on what Ghostmark had heard about it from Koda, Vasro, and Kaizen, the attack would be swift, bloody, and involve many people from other planes. And the timing lining up well with Ghostmark and Goldenscar being away in Arcavios felt just a little too coincidental. Just like how the planeswalkers among the Dokuchi Reckoners were nearly all elsewhere as well – Lillie, Cunning, Honmo, Sasha, and Anva in Torrezon, Tony with Captain Storm in the Stormwreck Sea, Gesserith focused on his job with the Brokers, Ferlan fixing things in her new position as High Fae of the Court of Judgment, and only Vasro and Azzie staying behind in Towashi with Koda. Add onto that the fact that Koda was working with the Brazen Coalition to get the orphan kids taken care of and potentially adopted, and it all pointed towards one simple fact: Boss Koda Hayashi was preparing for the idea that he would fail in killing his grandparents and that the Dokuchi Reckoners would then be hunted.

Ghostmark took a deep breath. He trusted his brother. He trusted Haruko, too. It was the boss’s job to prepare for the worst and keep the gang safe. And Koda had kept them safe since he was seventeen and Ghostmark was sixteen.

He picked up Goldenscar’s suitcase once she closed it. “We ready, big sis?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” she confirmed. “Vasro’s got an Omenpath for us. Let’s go.”

Arcavios took Ghostmark’s breath away.

He had gotten a full dossier about the plane ahead of time thanks to Tony, so he knew that they were in the northeastern part of the continent of Orrithia. Behind them was the Biblioplex, the largest library in the Multiverse. The two suns and the star arches illuminated and framed the landscape. And even Ghostmark, magicless as he was, could feel the mana that seeped into everything.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, gently setting their suitcases down on the stone beneath them. He turned around to finally look at the Biblioplex itself. It was an enormous domed building that made Ghostmark feel even tinier by comparison. He already knew that he would be spending a lot of time in there.

Goldenscar’s eyes were closed as she tapped into the mana of the plane. Finally, she opened them. “It feels like magic is so much easier to cast here than it is in Kamigawa,” she mused. “I can feel the...I believe Tony’s dossier referred to them as ‘elementals’ rather than kami...and I’m looking forward to working with them.” She made it sound so easy. To her, it was.

Ghostmark tried to ignore the pang of jealousy in his heart. Instead, he pulled down his half-face gas mask and breathed in the crisp, clean air of Arcavios. His heart thundered in his chest from sheer excitement. For the first time in his life, he was on another plane, something he had dreamed about ever since Koda sparked and began traveling the multiverse to bring resources back home. “Where do we start?” he finally asked.

“Checking in, signing up for classes, and then getting settled into the dorms.” Goldenscar began walking in the direction of the building they’d need to get in, and Ghostmark made himself walk slowly in order to keep pace with her.

Once inside, they split to speak to a different person each and get signed up. Ghostmark’s aid was the guidance counselor, an owlin woman named Mavinda Sharpbeak. She offered him a beaked smile, and Ghostmark was glad that he knew Tony so well that he could read birdlike facial expressions. As they talked, Ghostmark came across a problem that he knew Goldenscar also ran into – ogres and nezumi did not traditionally have family names in Kamigawa.

Koda? Ghostmark privately called in the telepathic network to Koda and Goldenscar. When Lily signed up for Strixhaven, how did she handle not having a surname?

She used “Thyrsus” as her surname, Koda called back, nearly immediately. Why do you ask?

I’m...not sure what Goldie and I should use for ours, Ghostmark admitted.

Well, you’re both my siblings. Use Hayashi. It’s your name just as much as it is mine.

Ghostmark took a deep breath. Ghostmark Hayashi. He wrote it down on the form, then moved on to the next chunk they needed. He was nervous about sharing too much, but equally nervous about sharing too little.

Finally, the first year courses. “All first-year students take Magical Physiologies,” Mavinda explained as she dug out the list of this year’s courses and offered it to Ghostmark. He was glad that Arcavios’s common written script and language was one of the many that Koda had uploaded into the Serpent after learning. “Several of them lead into courses for the other colleges, those are marked appropriately on here.”

Ghostmark took the list and examined it. Three immediately stuck out to him – Basic Magical Auras in the general studies section, Beginning Computational Magic in the Quandrix section, and History of Magic and Art in the Prismari section. He marked those down as the ones he was most interested in and continued through the forms.

There were a number of extracurriculars available through or around the school. A list of all the official ones were present, though there was also a small-print note at the bottom of the page making a note that there were dozens of unofficial ones. Ghostmark had no intention of causing problems while he was at school, so he went over the list. Of the sixteen official extracurricular clubs, only two stood out most to him: the Playactors Drama Guild, which seemed to be theater kids of a level that the Living Historians would love, and the Strixhaven Star, the monthly newspaper distributed across campus. Ghostmark commit the details of both to memory.

There were also jobs available around campus for students who wanted to make extra money. Koda had assured Ghostmark and Goldenscar both that they wouldn’t need to worry about money thanks to Vasro, but Ghostmark felt a little odd just relying on his newest brother for monetary support. There were jobs available all over campus – in the Biblioplex, on the intramural fields or the campus grounds overall, in the campus magic labs and dormitories, in the stadium, at the performing arts society, and at the Bow’s End Tavern and Firejolt Cafe. Working at the Biblioplex would help Ghostmark get acclimated in there faster, so he also commit those details to memory. He was used to being the one to get things down from or up onto high shelves already.

The rest of sign up made Ghostmark’s head spin, but finally, he was done, and he and Goldenscar received their student packages and were able to head towards the first-year dormitories. Ghostmark was still responsible for both of their suitcases, and he couldn’t help but ask a question. He leaned down a little and lowered his voice. “So what all did you sign up for, big sis?”

“Magical Physiologies obviously, since that one’s required. Arcano-botany for Beginners for Witherbloom, also obviously. Beginning Inkomancy, I’ll admit that it fascinates me, even though I know I’m not joining Silverquill. And Basic Magical Auras to round it out, it’ll give me an idea of how magic is done here. You?”

“Also Magical Physiologies and Basic Magical Auras. I went for Beginning Computational Magic for Quandrix and History of Magic and Art for Prismari.”

Goldenscar smiled. “Those sound like they’d be fun for you. What about extracurriculars? I have my eye on the Fantastical Horticulture Club and the Student-Mages of Faith.”

“I really like the Playactors Drama Guild and the Strixhaven Star, but I guess that will depend on how they react to...me,” Ghostmark mumbled. If his hands weren’t full, he’d gesture to himself. Back in Towashi, being an ogre was difficult. Either you were a Reckoner and people hated you based on that, or you weren’t one and everyone assumed you were one anyway. Things like jobs and homes were beyond the reach of many ogres...if they survived childhood to begin with. Even the ogre villages at the Jukai-Towashi border were regularly attacked on all sides and burned to the ground. That was why Ghostmark had been adopted by Lethaltooth and Silentsign, after all.

“There are ogres here in Arcavios,” Goldenscar reminded him. “Hopefully the students are open-minded. Your dorm is two floors down from mine, right?”

“Dorm 205, yeah.”

“And mine’s 406, so two down and across the hall. Good. I’ll let you know if I like my roommate. And if yours gives you any trouble, I’m sure we can find a solution for that.”

Ghostmark stood in front of the door to the dorm room, the key feeling oddly small in his hand. The door was large enough for him, thankfully, and the ceilings were high. Goldenscar had taken her suitcase and continued up the stairs when they split off. His suitcase felt heavier in his hand then it should have. With a deep breath, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

It was bigger than he thought, though still quite compact overall. He had been expecting something like his bedroom for the layout, but this was more like an apartment. It was mostly open-plan, with the shared living area and kitchen all as one thing, then a walled-off bathroom and what seemed to be doors to two bedrooms. It was clean and was the same white-and-grey color scheme overall that the first-year uniforms were. He didn’t have to lean down in order to fit through the doorway or into the room, there was plenty of overhead space.

Ghostmark blinked a few times as he took this in. He finally noticed his roommate, a handsome-looking human who looked about the same age as his brother. Smooth skin, fairly pale, dark eyes, and well-combed brown hair that already had early greying. He wore the first-year uniform like a soldier preparing to head to the front lines – crisp, clean, professional, yet to be stress-tested. This assessment was done in the blink of an eye, considering how quickly a Reckoner like Ghostmark needed to adapt.

Ghostmark offered a smile, trying not to seem too intimidating. “Hey there,” he said, keeping his voice soft as he set down his suitcase. “I’m Ghostmark Hayashi.” It felt a bit clunky, but he’d get used to his brother’s surname being his the more he used it.

The human had seemingly also assessed Ghostmark. Ghostmark knew he wasn’t much of a looker himself – dark purplish skin with slightly more saturated fur and neon-inked serpentine Dokuchi Reckoner tattoos, long black hair that he could only ever coax into a topknot, two larger horns at his temples and then much smaller spikes behind them, very fuzzy animal-like ears that only made it harder to deal with his hair, sharp teeth, and dark and narrow eyes. Even in the first-year uniform, he was obviously out of place.

Regardless, the human returned his smile, though his was more muted. “Grayson Wildemere,” he introduced with a slight bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

A fancy talker. Ghostmark didn’t often interact with those, that was usually what his brother did as the Dokuchi boss. But Grayson seemed friendly, which eased the tension from Ghostmark’s shoulders. “Which room is yours?” he asked, not wanting to make assumptions about them both being open.

“That’s what I was just pondering,” Grayson admitted. “They’re mirrored, which is more than a little disorienting.”

“Wait, really?” Ghostmark carefully and silently moved around the furniture – which seemed too small for him, unfortunately – and checked the room off to the right, then checked the one on the left. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding. Mind if I take this one?”

“By all means, go ahead,” Grayson agreed, picking up his bag and heading towards the right bedroom.

Ghostmark retrieved his suitcase and brought it into his new room. It was fairly blank and bare, with just a walk-in closet with a floor-to-ceiling mirror in the back, a large bed, a nightstand, and a chair and desk under the window. The desk was too small for Ghostmark to sit at, but the bed was big enough to support him.

He put his suitcase down on the bed and opened it up to unpack. His armor remained folded and stashed under the bed, along with his odachi and his energy blade katana (thankfully, the safety was on, so it didn’t activate during the trip). His gas mask was set down on the nightstand while his gadgets and the spare parts went inside of its drawers. His casual clothing from Kamigawa was carefully hung or folded in the closet. The handful of books he brought from the orphanage’s library were placed on the desk in a stack next to the basic student package he had gotten when he finished enrolling. Once empty, his suitcase was stored under the other side of his bed.

When he was done, Ghostmark assessed the bare walls and frowned. He wished he had brought some posters or something along to decorate them. But, he reminded himself, he could always decorate more as he spent time here. With that thought in mind, he headed back out to the shared part of the dorm.

Grayson was still in his room with the door open, so Ghostmark got a glimpse of that as he stepped out thanks to the doors being even. It seemed like he was a lot more prepared for decorating a dorm room than Ghostmark was. The ogre hesitated for a moment when he got over to the couch. It definitely seemed way too small for him. As did the armchairs. Would he only get to sit on his bed? Maybe they could find a chair big enough for him, or he could call Vasro and ask for help.

He dismissed that thought with a shake of his head. No, Vasro and Koda were both incredibly busy. They had an entire multiverse’s worth of problems to deal with at any given point.

“So, where are you from, Ghostmark?” Grayson called from his room when he noticed Ghostmark. He was carefully unfolding some of his own casual wear, more in line with what Ghostmark assumed was the current fashion of Arcavios.

“Kamigawa,” Ghostmark replied, carefully picking up the couch and setting it down a little closer to the coffee table so that he could more easily walk behind it. He was aware of what Grayson was doing – fishing for information. It was something he was used to as a Dokuchi Reckoner, so he knew how to leverage things to get just as much information out of Grayson in return.

“I mean where in Kamigawa,” Grayson clarified as he hung each article of clothing. “My family lives in Rundlestrom, which is best known for its military academy. We’ve been there for generations now.” An old human family, probably moneyed and influential. Grayson’s tone meant that Rundlestrom was a decent ways away from Strixhaven’s campus.

“Towashi,” Ghostmark finally shared, giving just as much as he had received. “Its Undercity, I should specify. The parts of it that doesn’t get natural light. I’ve lived there with my adopted family since I was a baby.”

“Your family?” It was an open-ended question.

Ghostmark stuck to the facts. “Two adopted parents and a couple of siblings. Got a new adopted brother recently.”

Grayson finished putting away his clothing and came out to the common area, heading to the kitchen to see what was going on with the cabinets. He made a face when he found food from whatever previous students stayed in this dorm. “I don’t have any siblings, but I’ve got about a dozen cousins,” he said, volunteering information in return. He was picking up on how Ghostmark gave information and adapting. “I’m not really close to any of them. My father’s the eldest son in his family, so there’s a lot of pressure on me to follow in his footsteps.”

“I get that. My older brother is technically my boss. I’m just glad we get along as well as we do. And my older sister is the head of faith in our household. And a priest for a local shrine. She came here to study too.”

“You guys have shrines? We have temples here, maybe your sister would like to visit some of them,” Grayson suggested. He was looking for, presumably, trash bags. “...Wow, they don’t leave much in these dorms for us, huh?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Ghostmark agreed. “Uh, how good are you at cooking? I’m a genuine hazard in the kitchen, I’m not even allowed to use a toaster.”

“Can’t say I’m any good, but it sounds like the bar is low,” Grayson joked. “I can make noodles and I can cook meat. Plus, we could always just throw together sandwiches. Got any food allergies?”

“None that I know of, no. You?”

“Shellfish, but that shouldn’t be a problem. And hey, we could always go to the Bow’s End Tavern or the Firejolt Cafe if we don’t want to make anything.”

More stuff that required money. Ghostmark once again considered looking into getting that Biblioplex job. He couldn’t just rely on the money that Vasro gave him, right? But Ghostmark offered a closed-mouth smile at the idea. “Sounds like fun.”

He hoped that this would all go well.

#I haven't met these kids but if something happens to them the school will burn for dragons sake #planar posting #kamigawa posting #arcavios posting #reckoner stories #ghostmark #goldenscar #strixhaven faculty and students #strixhaven posting

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strixhavens-best-printer · 17 days ago

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"Roxie,

this is Kym, from the Whitherbloom class of necronomy.

There have been rumours, that some assasins from Ravnica, have infiltrated the school.

Sorry to bother you, but I wondered if there is some course for self-defense. Mainly, against mind-magic"

Hello Kym,

I will do my best to look into these rumours and report them to the other faculty. I'm not exactly an expert on which classes, courses and workshops get organised but I can ask around for these too and keep you updated. Kind regards and thank you for reaching out,

Roxie Duval Admissions officer for Strixhaven

#planar posting #arcavios posting #strixhaven posting

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strixhavens-best-printer · 18 days ago

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Come Back to the Light With Me

A strange heavens looked down at him. Stars swirling and twinkling, bathed in various colors of the cosmos itself, with constellations that he swore were moving greeted this strange pilgrim. That was what he was… wasn't it?

It was a strange thought still, that this was a pilgrimage. As he looked down at his wings, atrophied and curled with fingers pointing up towards the sky above, he decided that it was as good a word as any for his journeys here. He was here under a religious pretense, after all. The Saint had sent him with good reason, and he was seeking a way to be rid of his wings. They were starting to ache, now, when they were not in the slings that had been fashioned for him. They were even aching while kept within them, which was why he let them rest on the ground while he sat. Perhaps it was a good sign.

A journal was open across his lap, his legs folded neatly beneath. A pen had been held loosely in one hand for some time now. He wished to record a travelogue. Moreso as a place to hold his thoughts and reflections than something that should be shared with the wider world, though he did also keep in mind that the words he wrote may very well be studied one day. It was such a strange thing to think about. His very words may be recording history.

He looked up at the dark, unfamiliar sky once more, and he began to write.

Fourth of Megasphagion, year

What was the year here? He realized he had never asked. He decided to leave it blank, for now. That could be edited later. Most of this would need to be translated into his own native calendar afterwards anyway.

I do not know for how long I have been here, only that it has surely been more than a few weeks since I left Alta Torrezon. My time within this plane has been as confusing as it has been enlightening. I have met strange and generous people, as well as a familiar face that I never would have expected. Though, in hindsight, I suppose I should have.

Another night, I shall write on my arrival in more detail. For now, however, all that I will say is that I was rescued by a siren representative of the god Kruphix, by the name of Aoidi Hymnia, who brought me to a cavern sanctuary where I met the gorgon Menea and her niece, Malkonia. Menea is a representative of the god Pharika. More will be shared on their domains and their means and methods of veneration at a later time, as for right now, I am focusing instead on a different diety and his representative.

I am currently within a labrynthine city called Skophos. This is a city of minotaurs who all primarily venerate the god Mogis, a god of vengeance and one of warfare, as far as I am able to tell. His chosen champion is a minotaur by the name of Dhazdoro. He is quite loud and proud and has been more than eager to share about the splendors of this city. Its people do not know what to make of me. To them, I am nothing more than a strange winged human. A human! The thought amuses me still. I shed my humanity long ago, but this plane does not have native vampires, as far as I can tell. I am the first they have seen. What an impression they are getting.

I am to learn more about vengeance, I have been told. I have also been told that I am repressing certain emotions too keenly. I do not know how to feel about this. In principle, I disagree. I am not suppressing much of anything, aside from what must be suppressed. The hunger, the encroaching presence of the great god of night upon my psyche. The poison that surely comes with these wings he has cursed me with. They insist upon it, even if they do not say so overtly. It is… strange. But so much about this has been strange thus far.

I shall be visiting their temple in order to observe some ceremonies within the coming days. This month is the month of Mogis's veneration, so there are a few different rites and rituals that must be observed at this time. Quite the auspicious time for my arrival. I have been told that there will be contests and some sort of celebration also, but I do not know if we will be remaining for long here. There are others whom Menea and Aoidi wish for me to meet and to help give me the guidance I seek.

He pauses in his writing. Something is squeaking at him. He looks down and sees a small bat looking up at him, wings folded and being used to prop up the rest of its small body. Mavren's brow furrows as he looks at it, and he sees a glint of something a little more sinister in its eyes. He nearly jumps and quashes the thing before he notices that there is something tied to its back. The bat looks undeterred and unbothered, and takes a few steps closer. Mavren carefully retrieves the small rolled note. The bat sits patiently, quietly chittering as he reads it. Mavren lets out a sigh. He then picks up his pen and continues to write.

My apologies for whomever else reads this in future, but my previous thoughts have just been interrupted by a small winged messenger from my homelands.

I do not know how you were able to find out that I was here, but I suppose I should not be surprised. Surely this must mean the Betrayer is aware of my absence in full, which may mean I must hasten my journey here. You did not sign this note, but I know it is you. Who else could it have been?

Mavren sets the note within the spine of the journal.

I know you miss me. And, in all honesty, I miss you too. I regret that it has come to this, and I long for the days where we could be together again. But… we cannot. You know this as well as I. The moment you went and found that damnable tome, the moment you turned your back most fully upon the Saint…

He paused in his writings. The bat was still looking up at him. He looked back at it, holding a hand out to it. The bat stepped into his palm, chittering quietly, then it crawled down his arm and nestled into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

… it was over. I have tried and tried and tried to get you to return to the light, but now you are forever damned. Even before then, in the short years after the return of our Blessed Saint, we fought so often. And yet, we tried to make it work. “Set it aside”, we'd say. And so we would try. Just so we could have another quiet night, another night of passionate love, another night of peace before the inevitable happened. I made my peace with all of this long ago. I knew it would not last. Not unless you changed your mind, but I knew you would not, just as surely as I knew mine would never change.

I do not hate you. Never let it be said that I hated you. I know that you were hurting. Many were. So many were and are. It is not an easy thing to sit with. Failure and chastisement always hurts and cuts deeply. I wanted to help you. I wanted to help everyone, but I failed. I faltered. I couldn't save you.

Once again, his hand stilled. He felt a tightness in his chest. He blinked away moisture in his eyes. The bat nestled in a bit closer, rubbing its surprisingly soft fur into the crook of his neck. He brought up a hand to give it a gentle brush with a finger. It squeaked contentedly.

I pray that this journey will show me how to help you. You are lost. Deceived and confused. All of your kin are, save perhaps the Antifex. I do not think you wanted this. I do not think that many who have rallied to the banner of your god ever wanted this. You knew as well as I that divisions were forming in the church. We both spoke of it anxiously at length, but there was always an impasse. I know why you did this. I know you just wanted to help. I know your intentions were good, but… your methods, your means, everything else is nothing but poison and darkness. It is unforgivable what you have caused.

But I still do not hate you. I… I don't know if I ever could. It's so strange. I hold a deep enmity for the Antifex. She knows what she's doing, and she's always been bloodthirsty and a warmonger. She's famous for it, after all. But… but you? I saw the look in your eyes when you confronted me the night after you read that journal. You were in pain. You were lost. You were hoping, desperately, that this would mean we could all go back to the way things were. But I knew that was impossible. And I think you did too.

I miss you. I wish… Oh, light of the divine, how I wish I could see you again, beyond this fanatical veil. I wish I could see the man I fell in love with again. I wish I could hold you one last time and apologize. One final night, away from all of this, where I could simply…

A tear slipped down his cheek. The bat squeaked softly, as though it was trying to reassure him. He wiped at his eyes.

… explain. Where I could guide you back to the light. But this is impossible, I know. And I am sure that you wish for the same thing. What a miserable fate this is!

And yet, I must keep looking forward. I must keep moving on, for the good of the people that you are still betraying. I must be the light for them that I could not be for you.

But first… I must find that light myself. I must find what it means and learn its lessons. I must learn who I am meant to be. Hopefully I will be able to find these answers in this far distant land.

I will return to Torrezon in time. And perhaps, when I bring back the light I had lost, just maybe… you'll find yourself attracted to it again, and you may still be able to be saved. It is a naive hope, and one I shall not cling to. I know better. You are as devoted as I am. You always were.

I have gotten wildly off-topic. This was supposed to be a meditation on my time here in Skophos, and here I am, mourning a man and a past that can never be again. I suppose it is a potent reminder of what all of this is for. I hope to defeat Aclazotz so that his poison may infect us no longer. I wish to free us from the shackles he has placed around our souls. I wish to prevent others from having to go through what we have gone through.

I am simply… I am simply unsure of how to do this. And so I walk the realm of gods and godkillers, seeking the answer. And my first true lesson is to lie with a god of vengeance and slaughter. I suppose there would be no greater diety to begin with in such an area of wanted expertise.

My words have meandered long enough. I believe I need more time to think before I commit more words to the page. We shall see what the dawn may bring.

He sits a moment to let the ink dry on the page before he closes the journal, setting it aside. The bat remained in the crook of his neck, squeaking gently at him. It did not seem keen on moving anytime soon. Mavren sighed, then slowly got to his feet. His wings pulled at him, making his muscles ache. He still could not move them, and they were becoming more and more sickly and shriveled as time went on. Perhaps they were finally preparing to fall off and necrose. But some part of him worried that they would begin infecting him before that came to pass.

Perhaps he should seek out Menea or the other physicians before things became too advanced. He would need his strength to keep venturing forth, especially if he sought to return home.

He put the journal under his arm and started walking back to the place where he was staying while remaining in Skophos. Few of the people of this place were out and about, but they seemed to have gotten… used to the presence of him. They were not staring nearly as much as they used to, and for that he was grateful.

Once he made it to his… bed? He did not recall the word they had used for it. He raised a hand to try and get the bat to move, but it only chittered at him and stayed right where it was. He shook his head softly.

“You may get crushed, little one,” he said. The bat squeaked at him. He sighed. “Very well. But I do not know how your presence will be tolerated here.”

He slowly laid himself down, having to adjust his wings before he did so, and the bat crawled and laid down on his chest. It chittered softly at Mavren, and Mavren gently pet it. He remained there, petting the tiny creature, in quiet contemplation, until the light of dawn began to light the horizon.

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strixhavens-best-printer · 18 days ago

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She gets out of bed in her owl onesie and walks over to the kitchen. After grabbing a mug she opens up her tea cabinet and browses trough the options, eventually settling on a Kamigawan herbal tea which she puts into the mug. While walking over to the table she opens up her communicator and scrolls trough posts for a bit before conjuring water into her cup and boiling it by putting a finger in it.

She takes a sip and types a message to her girlfriend

"Good morning Leta, I was wondering if you'd wanna go out again sometime soon maybe? I miss you." She leaves it in the textbox, unsent.

After finishing her tea she gets up and brushes her teeth at the sink, after which she goes back to her bedroom to get dressed.

#planar posting #arcavios posting #strixhaven posting #mtg #magic the gathering #vorthos #mtg rp

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strixhavens-best-printer · 20 days ago

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Hello all, Xerex is among my favourite magic planes. So I made an OC from the plane.

Her name is VyV, usually going by Viridian, and is a planeswalker, capable of reshaping herself (think breaking into millions of triangles and reforming). She’s an expert in navigating Xerex, but often struggles on more euclidian planes due to their far more consistent geography. She’s quite excitable, scatter-brained and has tendency to flee when presented with anything difficult.

W B R G Colour Identity! How fun

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strixhavens-best-printer · 27 days ago

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*holding clipboard* hm…. *kisses your cheek* interestning… *writes down results on clipboard but the results are a drawing of us holding hands*

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strixhavens-best-printer · 1 month ago

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A Tyrant, Chained

Dr. Selestri Zlovol surveyed the cave opening, spreading her mouth in a thin smile. She had found the blank slate upon which to craft her magnum opus. A dragon was an obvious choice, but those of Jund were a cut above. They were apex predators, more often dying of old age or other dragons than another species. And the way they died! Old age was somewhat inaccurate, as the eldest of these hellkites often plunged themselves into a volcano, instinctual completion of primal ritual that restored their mana to the ecosystem of Jund! She was going to enjoy altering this one. That the lair would then be used by the Hayashis to begin mining sangrite and other precious minerals was of less interest to her, but their desire to have a presence in this brutal land would mean that her creations would see use, and she would have a chance to collect more specimens. Maybe she would see if any of the local “sentient” organisms actually possessed any intelligence.

While a condition of her wanting to take this dragon alive was her presence on the mission, she would not be doing the heavy lifting. That was better left to beings more suited for it, and she had brought ten of them with her. Kamigawan ogres, were a perfect base to make into engines of labor and war. Yes, perfecting the methods of instilling obedience into them was… difficult, but rewarding. Sure, many of the ogres who were the initial round of test subjects went a little berserk, but that was four years ago. And maybe some of the enforcers the Hayashis hadn’t bought out were looking into the incidents, but burning down the slum where they had taken the subjects from and dumped the failures in was a clean way to have the investigation closed. Determining causes of death was a lot harder when the corpses had been reduced to ash.

The best results of that program stood with her now, KO-63, KO-89, KO-124, KO-137, KO-156, KO-185, KO-198, KO-200, KO-202, and KO-211. Their eyes had been replaced with visual sensor arrays, shoring up one of their primary weaknesses, and beneath their helmets, the primary modification shored up the other. In addition to quelling their more unpredictable tendencies, the neural implants also increased their ability to process information, and act quickly without relying on brute instinct. Aside from some minor tinkering, these ten were almost identical in terms of modifications, but varied a bit in height. Each was armed with a harpoon tranquilizer cannon, able to both pierce a creature’s flesh and reel it to the ground. Two carried a muzzle, and all carried extra lengths of chain to bind the beast.

Dr. Zlovol carried an electric coil pistol she had modified from an old Izzet design on of their frivolous artificers had discarded and her field repair kit, but was otherwise unarmed. Well, except for her clawed metal arm. She wasn’t planning on getting directly involved though, so it was of little consequence. With a mental command, she sent the KOs (Kamigawan Ogres) in.

She heard the roar of a dragon, the clank of chains, the thump of flesh on flesh, and the crunch of metal. Within a few minutes, nine of the ogres dragged the dragon, wings bound to the scaly torso, from the cave. The last, its armor battered, approached Dr. Zlovol. “Doctor, there is a development that requires your input to handle.” it said, voice monotone.

“Explain. Show me where if you cannot.” Dr. Zlovol responded.

“Eggs. Should they be collected or disposed of?”

“Eggs?” Dr. Zlovol shouted, expressing more emotion than she had in two years. Quickly recomposing herself, she responded. “Collected, carefully. Not by you. I’ll take one myself, and have a more… dexterous team collect the rest.”

“Understood.” The KO marched back over to the chained dragon, and picked up the tail, to make sure that it did not get caught in the thick underbrush of the jungle.

Dr. Zlovol hurried into the cave, ignoring the bloodstains and bones littering the floor. There, in the back, laying in a nest of branches padded with sticks and leaves, were four dragon eggs. Each one was bigger than Zlovol’s head, but still able to be carried by the doctor, albeit with both hands. Of those hands, each flesh and bone finger shook with excitement, but the metal one’s internal gyroscopes stabilized it against the tremors.

Hours later, on Kamigawa, a dragon shrieked in agony, despair, and most of all, rage. Needles stabbed into her brain, forceps pulled her limbs apart, and chemicals coursed through her bloodstream. Her pain was immeasurable, cutting through the lingering haze of the sedatives, but some of her anguish was because she had been separated from her eggs. Jundian dragons fiercely guarded their eggs from aggressive competitors, scavenging viashino, and cruel humans, but they did tend to guard the eggs more zealously than the live young. Even though clutches were rarely laid, baby dragons eating baby dragons wasn’t uncommon, and adults eating the babies was just as common. In at least one instance, a particularly aggressive juvenile, on the cusp of being kicked out of the nest, had attacked their mother and managed to kill them with a lucky strike to the head. Life as a Jundian dragon wasn’t easy, and the mothers made sure that at least the time in the eggs was safe. Dr. Zlovol didn’t know any of this, but she would learn.

She was more focused on the modifications, and most of all, the eggs. Although she was happier than she’d been in decades, some doubt was starting to seep in. The dragon had been given enough tranquilizers to kill three Avishkari bull elephants, and had woken up during the initial examination, thrashing about, sending soratami, robots, and equipment flying, until some KO’s managed to restrain her and Dr. Zlovol injected the dragon with a different sedative, hoping that by mixing the drugs, the effect would compound. It did, but the dragon was still awake, if sluggish and no longer causing active damage. She was watching her automatons vivisect and begin to experiment with control implants on the subject, now designated JD-1, which was so far, not responding well to any of the transmitted commands. It was a beast of a specimen, 13.23 meters from tip to tail, with a 24.71 meter wingspan, and weighing in at 11.05 kilotons. A quick analysis of telomeric decay estimated JD-1’s age as somewhere between 110 and 120 interplanar standard years, and scales had been removed to record material composition of the natural armor. A scraping of the claws and teeth had been taken for similar study, but the most interesting thing of JD-1’s biology was its blood. It was hot inside the body, and when removed for chemical analysis, a spilled drop had caused ignition on contact with dry paper. Post-assessment had determined that this wasn’t due to anything related to the chemical or temperate properties of the blood, but rather because of the red mana coursing through the fluid. The potential was immeasurable.

The other, possibly larger discovery, the eggs, were in an incubator, tuned to replicate the climate of a Jundian volcanic cave, being analyzed by some of her soratami assistants. In Dr. Zlovol’s eyes, that was what soratami were best at, lab analysis. While she would be the first to admit that vedalken like herself were not paragons of physical strength and stamina, they were more… resilient than the fragile moonfolk. The most useful part of a soratami was their brain, not their body, so the majority of sentient subjects she had successfully improved from Kamigawa were KG’s (goblins), Kch’s (orochi), KH’s (humans), KN’s (nezumi), and KO’s (ogres), rather than KS’s (soratami). But, they were good at tabulating and interpreting data, and that is what Dr. Zlovol was using them for. So far, the age of the eggs was estimated at a few months, but until hatching, that would likely be unknown, unless Dr. Zlovol’s orders were overridden and an egg was dissected to learn more. Unfortunately, she still reported to a handful of soratami, and even worse, the doddering humans who funded them. Although, she mused silently, she couldn’t be all mad at the Hayashis, as it was their desire for etherium and other valuable resources that had led to the expedition to Jund. House Hayashi wanted to extract as much sangrite as possible from the region to have the nation of Esper at their mercy, with a monopoly over the necessary component of etherium, which was used in all parts of Esper technology, including their augmentations which had allowed for their vedalken to endure for centuries. The other minerals and ores that would be extracted by the mining operation were merely a side benefit. The ability to trade sangrite for etherium was what the Hayashis were primarily concerned with. Once obtained, it would be Dr. Zlovol’s job to build them new bodies, using an etherium base, supplemented with cloned flesh, and having their minds and souls uploaded into the shells. Dr. Zlovol was more than happy to agree to this. If the Hayashis were inside forms of her creation, they would be under her control. But, that was a long-term plan. For now, there were the eggs, and subject JD-1.

In an underground facility, just outside the city of Towashi, near the foothills of the Sokenzan mountains, a dragon howled in rage. She did not know that she was now called subject JD-1, and she did not care. This world would burn, and she would start the fire.

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