MTG Cardsmith Community Forums
Stitia, Plane of 13 Deaths (RPG Style Saga/My First Saga)
This discussion has been closed.
Howdy, Stranger!
It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!
It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!
Comments
Nsatar
Relax, Nsatar. Remember what mother taught you.
The centaur gallops hard through a long, stretching catacomb. "I need to find an exit. Fast." Nsatar stops hard in his tracks, just before a flight of stairs. "And preferably one I can actually traverse."
An entire fleet of undead pursues Nsatar. He heard that this plane was riddled with them, but he didn't expect it to be this bad. Or this well coordinated. Like a hive mind, they swarm, completely surrounding him, and he has to cut and charge through the pack in order to even see what's in front of him. He can feel it. They're trying to attack his backside. Trying to climb on and grab him from behind. Trying to swallow him in a flood of undeath.
And then he saw it. A glint in the darkness ahead, atop another small staircase. A grunt and a shimmer of blood in the air. Someone else was alive in here.
Calm, steady breaths. Be one with the world. You are in control here.
"Ho there! I'm coming up!"
Nsatar carefully positioned himself on the stairs as he began his ascent. One step at a time, his hooves balanced him on the rising sandstone. But the undead were trying to pull him down. His back right leg was struck, and the stranger turned to see him falling down the stairs.
"Another survivor- No! Wait!"
"I'll come and save you. Just hold on!"
"You slithering dull-minded scat-brained asscaps!" A bite makes its way into Nsatar's neck as he attempts to stand. "I'll make your mothers wish you had never been born!"
Weaurtroun glows with red mana. The fancy, flame-like hilt begins to dance with fire magic as Nsatar raises it high.
"May you burn like the damned scoundrel that made you!"
The aura around Nsatar explodes into a vibrant flame, disintegrating every last undead immediately surrounding him, granting him exactly the amount of time he needed to correct himself and continue up the stairs towards the fighter. The fighter looks down at him with a strange look.
"That language... your style- gah! What are you?!"
"I am a Centauri knight. Of course you wouldn't know me. I'm from another plane."
"Just like... the interlopers?"
"What? No! If I'm trespassing I can leave, fair squire. But I need to-"
"You're welcome here. Now let's go!"
Timothy
Timothy is tracing the path of five powerful spirits. Planeswalkers.
"My my! I missed the party! Not only the destruction of an entire city, but the company, too!"
The hyenas follow suit, learning to fly as they soar close behind.
"Hm..." Timothy basks in the glory of the orchestrated massacre. Thousands upon thousands, mauled by flame or undead alike as they tried to escape. "Seems the city got blown up by eldritch fire. Gotta hand it to the big guy. He knows how to destroy things."
He follows the essences of the planeswalkers all across the city. The search takes hours upon hours, and it seems to be getting nowhere.
"These five wasted time dilly-dallying. Who comes here for the scenery? There's nothing to- oh... a river of blood? I was getting thirsty."
Nsatar
Keep going. He has to be around here somewhere
Nsatar and his companion continue towards a great gateway, weapons at the ready for whatever may come.
"This place is wretched now. We were promised that behind this very gateway was paradise. Here we are behind it looking in! Did you see it? Anywhere? Paradise?"
"This place has been... dry... a-rid... damn... desert..." Nsatar begins to cough as his throat croaks. "Water..."
The man reaches behind him for a waterskin, but finds nothing except a torn strap on his backside.
"Bastards got my waterskin. We'll need to go into Naktamun. Even with the Luxa turned to blood, there has to be fresh water somewhere..."
Nsatar is weak, following the man into the gateway.
I could planeswalk away for water... but then... what if I don't arrive back here? I don't want to make this trip again, let alone without assistance.
As they enter the city gates, they stare, awestruck by the destruction. Once luxurious temples reduced to dust. The river reduced to blood. Their civilization reduced to ruin in a moment...
"And it was the God-Pharaoh that brought about this destruction... I don't know where he is right now, but if that God-Pharaoh is still here, I'll kill him myself!"
Nsatar shivers. One look at the horned monument behind him is all it takes to remind him of where he is. "A plane said to have been made by the Horned One himself... Nicol Bolas...". Nsatar forgot much about this plane, mainly because he wanted to push the thought that such a plane existed out of his mind. When he read his father's book on Amonkhet, he was repelled, but here he is today.
The river is stagnant, still with blood, as the duo roams through the city. Locusts line what walls remain. The undead liter the street, which the two take care of. They search for water, as well as additional survivors, but neither are anywhere to be found. However, something catches the man's attention as he looks to the river.
"The Luxa... it's flowing again!"
Timothy lets out a laugh as the blood flows into him. Demon blood, reeking with a curse of death, a gift of power. It trickles out of the river and into a mist that dances around his body. He's meditating.
Perhaps it was worth the detour...
Timothy is healed of all of his wounds, bolstering infernal strength from the blood of the demon that tainted the river. He had not found what he was looking for, but he had found power.
And enemies.
As Nsatar and his newfound ally turn the corner to follow the river, they stop in their tracks. Feeling their presence, Timothy transforms into his werehyena form, bolstered greatly by his newfound power.
"So Nsatar... you couldn't leave well enough alone..."
Timothy rises, and stares Nsatar into the eyes. You both feel a cold chill, as if he was staring straight into your soul. The man turns towards Nsatar.
"He's... absorbing the Luxa!"
"T-Timothy..."
"You know this creature?"
Timothy rises, eyes still closed. He doesn't open his mouth either, opting to use telepathy.
"Know me? We just met. But he'll know to fear me."
"Verth! I found him!"
"Who are you?"
"Who am I? Not even I know anymore. Nightmare... monster... demon... I give it a name not my own. Joseph died weak on Stitia, unwilling to make the ultimate sacrifice for power. You can call me Timothy."
An aura fills the air as Nsatar and the man approach. A vibe of animosity and savagery. The essence of the hyena god Ophion, who died by his hand. Timothy calls upon an old power he lost with his spark. It barely works. He very slowly rises into the air, then sluggishly floats over the river.
"Now, Nsatar..." Timothy walks towards him, and he readies Weaurtroun. "This is your only chance to change your mind. As much as I would love to kill you... to steal your soul and the precious burning fire attached... I offer you this moment of opportunity to escape before it's too late."
"No... n-nev-er..."
"My you seem parched." Timothy puts his hands behind him. "So I will give you a chance to quench your thirst with my blood. I'll even be nice. You can have the first taste free."
Timothy summons a pair of ephemeral chains... on himself. About half a day ago he could of died to Verth. His overconfidence now is sickening. And concerning.
"However, I must warn you of something." You feel Timothy peering into Nsatar's soul.
"Now he's doing it to me..."
"Ever heard of the story of Will and Rowan? To simplify, one's spark is tied to their soul. The Kenrith twins were born... twins. They shared a spark. When two beings share one spark... they have to planeswalk together. If you dare challenge me here... Stitia... Varnia... you will be unable to leave this plane against my will. One of us must die."
Timothy poses a valid point. Is it worth the risk?
Arsenic and Old Lace (I'm Teddy. Am just insane enough for it.
http://forums.mtgcardsmith.com/discussion/comment/162756/#Comment_162756
Enerew is no longer autonomous
@Blazin_Biscuit @EnvyReaper Looks like I'll have to find something for you two to do. Looks like @EmolgAn isn't coming back.
@MonkeyPirate2002 @spookoops @sanjaya66 Also looks like @Derain2 probably won't be coming back either. I'll get to you guys too
"So... you mean to tell me we're leaving then?" Lilith seems puffy now.
"What are we doin' 'bout Raffy? Sittin' on our asses?" Rusty is getting impatient. "If he's on another plane, we need to find out where!"
"Maybe we can ask this big friendly demon guy!" Scarf seems a little too happy to see Zanletesh.
"The hell with that. I'll be- wait... where'd the centaur go?!" Danny is frantically searching. "Why is everyone- AH!"
The prophecy rushes over the group, and Danny starts screaming hysterically.
"Danny! You okay?!" Lilith rushes over. Danny is convulsing.
"C'mon buddy! Get it together!" Scarf comes over as well.
Danny is shrieking, eyes rolled back. He can't seem to get his bearings.
"Get up Danny! Ain't no time to waste-"
"We need a doctor!" Lilith tries to use healing magic, but it does nothing to stop it.
A minute passes, and with one last scream, Danny stops. The group circles around him, looking down at the whites of his eyes, mouth frothing. Lilith is the brave soul to reach out a hand, and suddenly, Danny's eyes pop back to life.
"Danny-"
"Quiet down!" Danny rises, pacing around and breathing heavily. His pupils are heavily dilated.
"Danny?"
"How are you able to stand idle with what you just saw? We need a plan! We need to act!"
"Woah! Stop right there!" Scarf is confused. "Aren't you the-"
"Fine then! I'll think!..." Danny holds his hands to his head. "Kia, The Six... we need allies."
It seems as if Danny's entire demeanor has changed. Something isn't right.
"And what's with the big boy pants alls a sudden?" Rusty give Danny a mean look.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Danny returns the glare before he continues pacing. "Who are you anyway?"
"What? Rusty, you moron?"
"Rusty? Never heard the name."
"Um... Danny?" Lilith walks up to Danny.
"Who's Danny?"
"The frick." Scarf looks at Danny. "Surely he'll remember me when I do this!"
Scarf reaches deep into a pocket, and inside it he brings out a tiny jar with holes. And a poisonous spider inside.
"Eep!" Lilith backs away. "Why do you still have that?!"
"What? Getting flashbacks? Sissy."
Danny looks at the spider as Scarf removes it from the jar. Then, he slings it right at Danny. He barely flinches.
"......"
"Why?" Danny says as he flings it back. Scarf flinches.
"You're not being serious. Deep under there you're p***ing yourself! You have to be!"
"Who's scared of spiders? They're fairly harmless."
Lilith's jaw drops. Rusty just shakes his head while Scarf looks Danny in the eyes.
"Anyways, you guys are weird, but if you want to come with me, I'm going to try to find a way to deal with this prophecy."
Danny begins to walk away from the group.
"Danny! Come back!"
"My name's not Danny!"
Meanwhile, Alyssa is talking to Zanletesh.
"I would like to thank the kind lady for bringing us here." Alyssa holds up the coin. "I heard promises. Tales of power. If it's true you can lead me to the treasure I have long sought, and make us the most powerful buccaneers to sail the seas... then let's negotiate."
"Oh! Don't leave me out-"
"Scarf!" Rusty grabs Scarf's collar. "Couldya stop tryna get us killed?"
"My specialty! But if I strike a deal for immortality, that can't happen!"
"Conse almighty. Has every damn person I know gone crazy?!"
"So buddy!" Scarf yells at Zanletesh to make sure he can hear him. He pulls out an incredibly sharp knife. "I've got a lot of blood just floating around in my body, being useless. And I'm going to assume this is an encounter meant to happen, sorta like fate. I'd love if you could- erm... 'enhance' my magic, teach me your ways, whatever- look. I've never been a talker, so here! I won't sweet talk you! Just take the blood!" And with a swipe of the knife across his hand, Scarf realizes his knife may have been a tad too sharp. "Owwie! That one actually hurt!"
Lilith returns without Danny and sighs. "I don't know what's going on. Danny just did a complete 180, and insists he's always been like this. He also... doesn't remember anything before his seizure." Lilith walks up to Zanletesh. "Anyways, my father sold his soul to a demon. I guess since I already bear that curse, some blood won't hurt me any more." She brandishes her curved blade in her hand. "Please demon, be fair with me. Our ally, Jessica, disappeared without a trace. We would like to know her whereabouts, and what she is doing. In addition, I'd like to know what happened to Danny, and see if there is a way to restore his memory."
Vryx urges Nsatar to attack, but Verth isn't responding. Timothy is waiting patiently, hands and feet chained with light.
"What's wrong, you two? Did your feet get cold?" The voice hits Nsatar, but seems to go straight to Verth's mind.
Nsatar goes to respond, but he croaks, throat too dry to speak properly. Dehydrated, the sweat that was running down his face is gone, and he's panting. He tips the sword towards his mouth, but sadly, the dew from Weaurtroun is not hydrating, only dripping one cold drop at a time.
"Now now. We can't have anyone dying before we even start fighting. I at least want to enjoy myself, and I can't do that if the elements do my job for me." Timothy stares at Weaurtroun, sizing it up, and he smirks. "You had a good thought there. But apparently you're so incompetent that you can't even use the sword gifted to you by the gods of your realm."
Nsatar takes incredible offense at this remark, but he looks down.
"Let me show you how to use it."
Still chained, TImothy tries to focus.
It's been over a thousand years since I've had the power to do this. But if any time's a good time to try, it's now. This will hit him where it hurts...
Eyes aglow, Timothy begins to violently shake. You can tell he's straining, but alas, his demonstration of power is at hand. Weaurtroun is slowly slipped from Nsatar's shaking hand, much to his disbelief. Timothy turns the blade down using manipulation magic, and it begins to glow in a bright blue light as he falls to one knee.
"He who calls himself Timothy..." The blade whispers. "You are not worthy."
"Does it look like I care?"
"Cease your actions, or the consequences will be fatal."
Timothy closes his eyes again, and suddenly, the blade is slammed into the ground. Rain begins to pour from the sky, even though it's clear. The rain flows into the three, and it soothes them. Nsatar's hydration is replenished. The wounds of his comrade, as well as his own, are healed.
"Now, Nsatar. Find a cup or use your hands."
"Wh... how?..."
"This is absurd..." Weaurtroun is whispering again. "How were you able to surpass my countermeasures?"
Timothy smiles hideously. "The first mistake is that you're a spirit blade. The second mistake is the fact that, even then, I can control the very fibers of being. The very strings that sew together reality. Just you wait. Next I'll be changing your Darkfiber blade for feathers."
"Uh, sir?" The man walks towards Timothy. "What are you doing to the Luxa?"
"I can read the memories in the blood." Timothy scoffs. "Such a waste of good power, to pollute a river. They left poor Nsatar parched."
"Drat..." Nsatar is finally able to speak normally again. "Verth... he was able to manipulate Weaurtroun!"
"So, brave knight. Have you no honor, or will you face me in combat? Will you pick up that plaything and swing it at me, or will you disgrace the Nowohnohl lineage and leave?"
Timothy opens his eyes, and they spark red.
This feeling... this uncontrollable bloodlust... Right... I have some new tricks to work with... maybe I should put them to use...
"How dare you speak of my ancestors you mongrel!" Nsatar approaches Weaurtroun and pulls it from the ground. Timothy's smile grows ever wider as the centaur approaches.
"Your grandfather died because of you. You could of saved him, but you're so useless with a blade you couldn't even hit a man standing still!"
"You leave Lave out of this!" Nsatar's eyes begin to glow with the same red light as Timothy's. You can feel it. He isn't being controlled, but the wild magic of Ophion is goading him, Timothy's low blows laced with powerful, trance-inducing magic. They're sending Nsatar into a frenzy.
"And Solsta, yes?! I can't even believe that out of everyone, she chose you! Hervelt slew a thousand warriors in the Battle That Spanned Decades, vigilantly defending the border of Esgar! Nefel, a woman, defeated the King of Solabi singlehandingly! And the goddess of light choose the centaur-elf half-breed tool that never seizes his destiny, just standing around obeying orders like-"
"That's it!" Weaurtroun's ephemeral dew suddenly burns off at Nsatar yells out a battle cry. The entire blade is engulfed in flame and darkness as he charges towards Timothy. He cackles as the blade strikes him, but it leaves no trace.
"Come on now, fair initiate! You want a death of glory?! You want an eternal afterlife in service to a higher power?!"
The rage is contagious. The man lifts his weapon aloft as his mind is washed over with battle fury, all thoughts of the God-Pharaoh's betrayal pushed aside. "Yes! It is all I've ever lived for!"
"THEN COME AND SEIZE IT!"
Timothy stops absorbing the blood from the river as the initiate charges towards him, striking him with his weapon. Nsatar and the man both strike with blow after blow on the werehyena, still chained, but to little effect. Not as though they care. The magic of the hyena god flows through them, and Timothy is left the only one wiser.
"Thank you for accepting my offer Verth... my ascension to power has begun once again, and this time, the limits of morals, the chains of right and wrong... have been cast aside. It's time for me to be unleashed once and for all!"
Timothy pulls at the chains, rather than dismissing them. The aura around him grows as he harnesses magic he's never used before; empowering himself with the strength of the wilds, he pulls and pulls, taking blow after blow unscathed, until suddenly, the chains rip loose from the ground they're bound to. Nsatar and the man momentarily stop attacking, shocked.
"What?! You didn't actually expect me to stay chained, now did you?"
Timothy unsummons his now broken chains, the glow in his eyes reaching an extreme glare.
"Magic swords... exotic polearms... all of you rely so much on weapons. But the wilds have survived for so many years without them. Perhaps... this is why I've never felt true power until now."
"This weapon is my life, and what awaits me after! I would never leave it!"
"Don't worry, fair initiate. Even then, you can feel true power. In your spine."
In a dizzying swoop, Timothy grabs the man's neck, and in a sickening but swift motion, it breaks, and the man's head is ripped clean off.
"Now, Nsatar! My patience lasts no longer! My bloodthirst must be quenched!"
Nsatar backs away, beginning to snap out of the trance. The events unfolding in front of him are too horrific to ignore. Timothy bites a chunk out of the man's neck before absorbing the blood out of his body, leaving nothing but dry bones, and in his hand, the man's skull. Not a trace of flesh or blood remains, except the stains on the werehyena's teeth.
"Loyal to a fault, with motivations that can be twisted in exactly the right ways... just the kind of servant I need." From the skull Timothy begins to pull in the man's soul, and in an instant, the skull crumbles to dust, and he glows in an ephemeral haze.
"As for you, centaur! Sorry I interrupted our battle for my little snack. But I can assure you I have room for your just desserts!"
Choose whether Nsatar should flee or fight. If you choose fight, make a card representing the action for him to take, or to aid him in taking an action. If fight gets at least one vote, Nsatar will stay and fight.
If you choose fight, your card will be judged as normal, with one special exception. The minimum score is 13, but since this is a difficult battle, you'll have to pray to whatever powers may be. A d6 will be rolled as a modifier for your team's score. If you roll a 6, your score will be increased by 1, for a max score of 16. If you roll a 1, however, you'll suffer a critical failure if your team's average score is under 10. (No effect on success.)
You may use any color for the action Nsatar will take, but if you are assisting him, you must use your own colors.
If both of you submit a card, Nsatar won't take two hits. Instead, if both of your cards are under target, the average will be the score used to determine damage. If only one card in a set of two is under score, no damage will be taken. On a fail, every 2 points below 13 will cause Nsatar to take 1 damage. On a critical fail, damage will accrue as normal, 1 for every point under target.
Nsatar currently has 10 HP. Timothy has 10 HP plus 2 temporary hit points.
I'm also kind of alive. Would help if I were more awake though.
http://forums.mtgcardsmith.com/discussion/comment/163737/#Comment_163737