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wind-to-your-sails · 1 year

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The Domini of New Phyrexia: An Elaborate Headcanon of my Own Design

The wounding of a world-soul is not an easy thing. It is a dark and awful deed, and cannot be done the same way that one might wipe away a continent. To scar the soul of a world is to change its very nature, to rewrite laws so fundamental that they are scarcely thought of as laws. In the past, such monstrosity was considered the realm of gods alone; Amonkhet, Lorwyn and Zendikar stand as testament to the consequences of such a deed, and the weakest of those who dealt the scars was still a planeswalker of the ancient tradition.

But now, we know better. We have beheld Phyrexia, and the march of the Domini. The worlds of which I have spoken, they bore their wounds and retained much of what they had been. But Phyrexia did not simply wound their world-soul, they broke it.

Their hideous works reforged the world, tearing the domains apart and sequestering them to separate spheres of existence while they erased all knowledge of the rituals that had kept the land hale and hearty. And then, as if to prove that the arrogance of Norn did not know limits, they covered the ruin of the old world with a hideous porcelain shell that blocked out all light of the world-shaping five suns of Mirrodin.

And so the world-soul of Phyrexia emerged, split into five parts and scattered across five spheres. These are the Domini, the mutilated voices of a vivisected planet.

Mondrak is the Dominus of Glory and resides within the Fair Basilica, the Seventh Sphere of Phyrexia. Born with seven mouths and no ears, Mondrak wails an unceasing hymn in praise of the majesty and supremacy of the Machine Orthodoxy. It is said that to hear her song is to understand Phyrexia, and perhaps even worse, to believe in it. The truth of this superstition is difficult to verify, as the volume and tone of Mondrak’s voice induces paralysis and disorientation even at distances where the words cannot be recognized.

Called the Breathless Choir by her fellow zealots, Mondrak is seen as a pinnacle of inspiration and living proof of the infallibility of Norn’s teachings. Despite her voice often proving destructive to the nearby architecture, Mondrak is frequently surrounded by aspirants eager to receive the gospel of the Argent Etchings. As for the Mother of Machines herself, Elesh Norn regards Mondrak as a curious setpiece and a useful resource, a rallying standard that can bring even the mites out in force.

Tekuthal is the Dominus of Inquiry and can be found in the Surgical Bay, the Fifth Sphere of Phyrexia. Having emerged from the oceans of quicksilver with countless eyes and no mouth, Tekuthal poses an endless series of silent and inscrutable questions of the Progress Engine. He communicates with and mimics those around him by shaping the quicksilver into facsimiles, and should they displease him (which they frequently do) he will accentuate the imitation with exaggerated features. Once left alone, these caricatures frequently disintegrate along fault lines that are invariably found to be present in the beings they were mocking.

The Gitaxians derisively refer to Tekuthal as the Prince of Mockery, ridiculing him for his behaviour because his design is beyond reproach. Observation suggests that Tekuthal’s presence invites scrutiny among the ‘scientists’ who are already obsessed with eliminating imperfections, as the idea that there is something to mock suggests that there is something to fix. Jin-Gitaxias has meanwhile drawn inspiration from Tekuthal’s many eyes to create his new surveillance system, and regards the Dominus as a rival who would be much more interesting as a partner.

Drivnod is the Dominus of Carnage and haunts the Dross Pits, the Sixth Sphere of Phyrexia. Born with no flesh of his own and a single eye of baleful fire, Drivnod ravages and flays any servant of the Steel Thanes that wanders too far from the pack. The towering monolith of destruction and slaughter garbs himself in great tapestries woven from his victims, and seems to delight in every scream he creates. Strangely enough, Drivnod appears to be repulsed by worship, shirking away from the adulation he receives in the more populated areas of the Pits.

As in all other things, the Steel Thanes are divided on how to deal with Drivnod. While some are content to leave him to his own devices, others like Azax-Azog and Geth see an opportunity in the Dominus, a potent weapon that could stamp out all opposition to their reign. The rank and file of the Dross Pits are far more united in their perspective, worshipping Drivnod as an idealized manifestation of the proverb that strength is the only power worthy of praise. Some even whisper that he is the Second Coming of Yawgmoth, the true Father of Machines... though none dare say it where a Thane might hear them.

Solphim is the Dominus of Mayhem and dwells in the Autonomous Furnace, the Third Sphere of Phyrexia. Born in a molten body clad in a gown of spears, Solphim is a beast of rabid freedom that embodies the ideals of the Quiet Furnace so completely that she rejects all responsibility for her actions. As though making a parody of the Furnace’s enemies, Solphim inscribes the deep canyons of her territory with draconian and contradictory laws and seems to decide which are worth enforcing on nothing but a whim. The only consistency in her behaviour is a swift and merciless vengeance against any who trespass against the Great Work, most commonly the sycophants of Atraxa.

Declared the Great Mother of Chaos by adherents of the Quiet Furnace, Solphim is openly venerated as a goddess. Her own apparent disregard for this adulation hardly matters, as Dominus worship exists most principally as a rejection of the Argent Etchings and the growing idea of the Flesh Singularity. Urabrask alone regards Solphim as an equal, a deft hand at defence and hopefully an ally in the war to come.

Zopandrel is the Dominus of Hunger and inhabits the Hunter Maze, the Fourth Sphere of Phyrexia. Born with piercing claws at her sides and spitting infectious spores from her face, Zopandrel is an anomaly among the Vicious Swarm in that she hunts with a pack. Unlike the sea of aspiring apex predators that infest the Maze, Zopandrel radiates power outward into her fellow beasts and girds them for battle as not even the magic of Glissa Sunslayer can do. As if to promote this warped idea of community, Zopandrel’s spores impart degenerative phyresis at a staggering rate that can reduce even the most fortified soldier to a ravenous beast in hours.

The denizens of the Vicious Swarm call Zopandrel the Maw of Progress, a slant against Jin-Gitaxias’ failed efforts to present a compleated Ezuri as his answer to Glissa Sunslayer. To these consummate predators, the Dominus’ ability to avoid falling into either their role or that of prey is an intriguing gesture at an infinitely more complex ecosystem. Vorinclex sees in Zopandrel a worthy general that can join him on the front lines, with a strength nearly equal to his own.

#mtg #My writing #headcanon

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