Trevor Alvisor, born of the great Musir Alvisor, from a young age always wanted to be a knight, he squired under his father and upon his fathers death, he squired under a knight known by the likes of Sir Willow, Dragon Tooth. At the age of 25 he was crowned the title knight by the king of the kingdom he lived in Alfred.
He went on to win many battles, his forte ( a term for what knights would be named after) being that he won his battles using jagged swords and spikey armor. At the age of 37 he would become to be known as Trevor, The Knight of thorn. He won many battles, conquered challenge after challenge, until one fatefull day.
Trevor and his garrison of ten young knights and two squires had been assigned a mission to scout the terrace of any opposing fighters during an ongoing campaign that had been going on since Trevor was a squire. The skies where gray and thunder scared the horses amidst the drizzly climb on the side path of the mountainous climb. All had been going well and they were on time, until...
It was so sudden and no one would have ever anticipated it, a bolt of lightning struck hundreds of feet above a fault line in the cliffs they were traversing. Boulders raced down the peaks as the knights struggled to keep their horses in control. Trevor had to do something. He valiantly leaped infront of the land slide with shield forward in a meaningless attempt to halt the land slide so his companions can escape. Faced with death, he stood there in honor and bravery, until a blinding light encompassed him, never to be seen again.
To his battalion, he had died a hero that day, and his efforts bought time for an escape of his companions. He had a monument erected for him next to his father's and many other valiant knights' , but to him, that was when his spark ignited.
He awoke in a mysterious plane and with his new found magic, that granted him and near invulnerability, he rushed to protect, those who couldn't protect themselves.
Trevor's Theme is Rose (Like a beautiful rose great to observe but deadly when touched due to it's thorns. His abilities will be defensive in nature, centered on (damage prevention), punishing attackers with his mechanics e.g (Thorn: Deal x damage to blockers) and due to him being a knight, shielding others (Hexproof) ).
Lyre was never the kind of plane you'd expect the maybe-soon-to-be-aspiring-hero Troll Coward named Ig to be from, but with the vast and beautiful multiverse in front of and around you, anything is possible.
See, Lyre was born into silence and greyscale. Think of an old silent movie, only much more solemn—nothing was really and truly alive. Days dragged on while its denizens went about their monotonous routines. Eventually, seemingly out of nowhere, the sky erupted into an aurora of color known as the Opening Act. The plane, now awash with color, spent what could be considered decades, centuries, or perhaps even eons in this bright, soundless state, with the people of Lyre developing breathtaking pieces of art.
Eventually we get to the just-before-the-spark moment. The first sound. That is, the tiny sound of his mouse companion Demetrius squeaking. Our Troll Coward friend was so startled by this that his heart stopped! And, well, you know the rest. And in case you don't, here's the brief and definitely not quoted synopsis of the current state of affairs:
"After a dramatic moment [in his] life, [he] finally but slowly [woke] up to the sounds of the surrounding world. [His] body is sore, [his] muscles are weak, [his] mind is spinning, [his] ears are ringing as like after an explosion - but there were no explosion. Not what [he] can remember at least. Something happened within [him] and pulled [his] very being away just before... before [his] death."
Ig and His Signature Spellbook
Uncommon
Demetrius planeswalked with Ig! Although he does not have a spark of his own, Demetrius and anything Ig has collected (such as insects) seemed to just...go with him. No damage. No pain. Just as if they had planeswalked with him. Granted, they are just as confused as he is.
Common
Teamwork makes the dream work! These two simple spells work well with small creatures and with each other.
Token
Ig's very first discovery was an interesting glowing...insect...bug...winged-yet-flightless...thing in the forests of Lyre. Unfortunately for him, this was the only friend in his collection that came with. Hopefully he'll make more discoveries as he explores!
What to Expect
Tiny creatures matter!
Stunning art showcased on frames that go just outside of the normal border.
Teamwork! Lots of it, both mechanically and ideally between Ig and his competitors.
Primarily green solutions. Ig is centered around green, with the white being added to have Demetrius in the challenge.
Speaking..? Yes, Ig and Demetrius are able to speak, though Ig knows only a small handful of words.
Hopefully a bit of comic relief. Ig is not the brightest Troll out there.
Best of luck to everyone, and may the endless waltz of Lyre light your path!
Credits: Arceus helped fine-tune the submission and help me change my previously mono-G walker into a Selesnya pal. Tomigon, on this thread, is responsible for the set symbol used.
I've has a super-busy week and decided to alter the aspect of my character being shown completely to avoid a stereotypical look. Still have work to do on the spellbook and write the story, but it's going to take time I don't have tonight and wanted to get what I did have ready in. So:
Her spellbook will be filled up and the profile and story working its way out of my head and into black and white this weekend. I wanted to get as much as I could today to lock my participation in.
Zren took a moment to gather themselfs. As the last mass of worms and maggots coalesced into a hand Zren resumed their humanoid shape.
Zren then took a moment to gather their thoughts.
How much mass did we lose? The voice of a thousand buzzing locusts replied, We are all here. As are we, gurgled a mass of worms.
The phermones of the Zren's ant colony indicated, All subjects are present and accounted for.
Zren received similar reports from all facets of her body. Whatever happened to them, it didn't seem to harm them physically.
Speculations on what happened?
The colony of wasps danced their way up and down Zren's arm to make their message known, Our pursuer possessed many strange magics. Perhaps when we devoured him we triggered a defensive spell.
Warping someone across so great a distance would be a very elaborate spell in deed, this is more likely the result of a spell misfiring. If we consumed our pursuer midspell, this could be an unintended consequence, chittered the termites.
Zren considered this. Whatever else happened, do we all agree our pursuer is dead?
In a rare moment, all of Zren spoke as one, YES
Then no matter what else has happened, today is a good day, Zren thought.
YES, her body replied.
It was then Zren felt a very peculiar sensation. A snake winding in and through them. Never before had Zren's body hosted such a massive creature. The serpent delevered more questions than answers, but one statement stood out. Zren was being hunted. Again. But what was this spark the serpent spoke of?
Perhaps, wriggled the maggots, it spoke of this. The maggots deleivered to Zren reports a glow. Something radiant, but dying. It felt... good.
You should have reported this immediately, Zren rebuked.
The maggots curled up defensively, We had many important matter to discuss, we would have reported this eventually.
Zren wasn't so sure of that, but decided to let the matter slide for now.
What does it feel like? Danced the hornets, May we inspect it?
No! Cried the maggots, We found it, it's ours!
Where did you find it? Zren demanded.
When we devoured our pursuer, we felt the glow. We pulled it out of him and now it's ours!
It's all of ours, Zren corrected, It's part of our body now, and I will ensure every faction get's a chance to inspect this new addition. But for now we have larger concerns. We are being hunted. We must arm ourselves, feed ourselves, and then we have to get to the tower.
And so Zren started their journey through this mysterious land.
Tirany burst into joyous laughter. It has been so long since anything this
patently ridiculous had happened to her.
Clutching her stomach she knelt down, crushing some of the long wild
grasses to the earth.
She caught her breath and looked around to the beautiful meadow,
looked up at the tower. She had seen it’s
like before, center of the land called Spindle.
A monument to male megalomania if ever there is one. Then
she remembered the circle of archmages that, and lost her composure again as
she recalled reading a history book on how they had “erected” it! She remembered war with them, war to the knife. Not her first. Far from her first. Her head seemed to start rushing. Memories rushing into her head and leaving rushing
and rushing and rushing until – oops!
Rush and go.
Rush and go.
Rush and go.
Ever faster rush and go!
Each her own, not as she is now. How she once upon an ago. They
were suddenly a torrent or a waterfall. She was standing under a cascade. Each there and then gone, like getting hit by
a mountain, which disappears the moment before crushing her to leave a grain of
sand. Then another. Then another.
Countless lives pummeled her as the sand seemed to quickly surround
her. As if she were sitting at the
bottom of an hourglass. Boulding a round
and primal mound, with her at the center.
Creeping pas her knees and covering her lap quickly. Rising to her hips and then up to rips. Rib by rib as her arms flailed and she
screamed.
It became more clear that the sand of memories was like the
sand in the eyes after sleeping. Something
a living thing had made. That she had
made. In fell into her mouth and she swallowed
as it reached her breasts and she realized it was too late to stand. Yet she was surrounded by herself, or at
lease what she once was.
It got in her eyes as it reached her shoulders and kept
right on going. So very quickly it advanced
nos. Neck and jaw, ear and eye. Darkness and wooshing sound as her arms became
immobile. The strange feeling of her
head being covered, but the impacts above her continuing. Almost losing everything, only her fingers left
and it stopped like a sunshine thunderstorm that suddenly noticed ti has
started its rain on the wrong day of the week.
The moment it stopped she was suddenly whole again. While she
could not remember everything, not hundredth of everything, not a ten thousandth. Less.
Yet still enough. She remembered living
before. Many times. Endless times? Back into eons past.
It had been pretty much a live since that disastrous day
when things changed and she had been trapped.
Her spark going out suddenly. Trapping
her. Now she was free. She was not going to give that up. Things were not as before, but that was how
things always were really. Life is
change.
She spread her hands, as she had so many times before. The sand was hot under the sin as she started
to move. It was never fun, crawling out
of the earth after you were buried. It was
thrilling in a unique and strange way. An
exercise of will, a determination to live.
Mere physical things could not
bar her from this. She had cracked stone
to do it, swum up through lava, risen rom unfathomable depths. Pulling out the dream sand was easy for her. It Dave way, gave way and started to
evaporate.
By the time her top quarte was out the sand was evaporating
rapidly, subliming into pearlescent mist and facing under the harsh noonday sun.
She shook her hair out, noticing how it
has gone for resting at near-white tow headedness to a darkened platinum. Standing, she laughed again. She was Young! It felt so good. Things looked sharp and colorful and bright. The clouds!
Oh the clouds were more than fugue blurs again. She could hear insects in the meadow about
her, so loud for things so small. Her
frame was a tall! The king of her arms
smooth and creamy, without a liver spot or blemish. Her hand went to her face and felt nothing
winkled or sagging at all anymore. She
took a deep breath, untroubled by that hitch in her right side and stretched,
feeling the pleasure of a strong body.
It was about time!
She dimly remembered that she had just been old for an
exceptionally long time. No doubt,
whatever disaster had trapped her had also played havoc with her regular
passing along from life to death and back again. Youth was new to her again. Not so new that it did not occur before her
recent transition. Sometimes it is hard
to say the way things are. Did she before
young so she could leave, or did she leave because she was renewed?
She tilted and shook her head, noticing her hair had changed
form toe-headed white to a blonde deeper than platinum. Odd now not to see it iron grey. But it has
been every color at some point of other, just like the rest of her it was only
as it was for the present, change was at the heart of her nature.
Turning to the sun and closing her eyes, she looked into the
redness and took a deep calming breath. Her memories were a hazed jumble but those of
her awakening were fresh and hers alone, and odd.
Tirany's Tale, Prelude II - A Little Turn in the Sun.
Turning to the sun and closing her eyes, she looked into the
redness and took a deep calming breath. Her memories were a hazed
jumble but those of her awakening were fresh and hers alone, and odd.
The snake that spoke to her was not a real snake. A
serpent hunting her, well duh. Not the real serpent of course, although
it sounded the sort of thing that would disagree. Like many things of the
sort, there were many imitators of the real sources of the name so many
used. She had been told enough to act.
It might be a
lie. Just a goad to spur her to walk willingly into her own doom.
Well, the real first past in foiling a trap is questioning “is that a
trap?” Still, she knew she didn’t understand what had happened the last
handful of decades or so. It has been so strange.
She turned widdershins
in place and the redness dimmed and grew. It as an elementary
exercise. One a child or a dog did instinctively. She stopped and
opened her eyes staring at the tower. Not a simple illusion, or a thing
without cardinal force.
So high, wreathed in
clouds and haze. Impossibly tall, so much so it is impossible to see the
base or even wisely conjecture how far off it is. Could be continents
between her and it, could be oceans. Or itch could be plainly visible if
she here standing at the horizons.
Some say every journey
begins with a step. They’re wrong. It begins with the decision to
move. As one side of her mouth quirked up into a smile in a way it has
not for over a century, she decided.
Tirany is old. I don't mean old like you
think of as a person, or a house, or an empire. Nor even as old as
dirt. She was around to watch the stone become dirt old. A being
extant from deep time. Change is part of her nature, she exists more in a
cyclical time than a linear one. Young to old to dead, then beginning
anew. Her regular course has been disrupted. She has just
begun anew, and is in a strange land. She feels no particular fear right
now, even of her old friend death, but everything that thinks always
does. There is a slight trepidation though, the unknown does that even to
her, even after all this time.
Note - I very much did not read anyone else's story, lest it corrupt of deflect the writing of my character's introduction. So. Yippee! - now I get to a sort of pop-corn time as I go back and review the creations of everyone else.
Tirany is now a young woman. Loves animals, friends, long walks on the beach. Seriously, she does have a fondness for the sea.
has a WUBRG nature but is currently mono-white. Niad of Purificaiton does use blue in it's color identity, but this makes it less powerful, as it has no Bestow in a true mono-white deck.
Themes include animals, enchantments, restorative/resurrection magic, and token creatures. Which led me to a second spell in her spellbook. Sort of an equal rights/animal rights amendment to the rules. It shows just how important friends are to her and ate up the rest of her points:
Yes, it affects everyone's tokens. But since tokens normally disappear few couple them with anything that could let them return as her spellbook will.
Aoruum is was pulled into a mysterious timeline in Dominaria, caused by the multiple rifts that opened. He serves under a dark ruler as an advisor, keeping close examinations of other timelines.
"Sir, I've studied the charts for months, but there are no fluxes large enough to transport us back."
"Surely there is a ritual that can open one?"
"Yes, but it's dangerous, and it could fail."
"Open it."
Taking his book and knife, he carved a circle, spoke incantations, and the circle glowed with dark power.
"Now step in."
Aoruum did, but he soon realized the spell hadn't worked, and was knocked unconscious as he traveled through planes.
Yanji Ujo woke up to a very different scene than that which he last remembered. Rather than the vast forests of his home plane of Thyrill, he ways laying face-up in what appeared to be a large plain. He sat up, and took in his surroundings. Where am I? he thought, trying to remember how he got here. The last thing in his memory was entering the palace of the Fae Queen. His village had fallen victim to a devastating plague, and he hoped that, with his good relations with the Fae people, he could convince the queen to help him. After that... it was still hazy. However, none of that explained why he was out here, without a tree in sight.
After a little while of wandering, using his spiked walking stick to help bear the brunt of his shell's weight while he was still disoriented, he found a small lake. It wasn't much, but it was a type of area that he was familiar with. Lakes were, at least on Thyrill, hotspots for Fae activity. Sure enough, on a rock a few feet off shore sat a lizard. To untrained eyes, it would simply look like a regular reptile. However, the slight shine of its scales and a gleam of intelligence in its eye told Yanji that this was, in fact, a Faerie.
Faeries were only able to enter the mortal realm in their true form very rarely. Instead, they came from Ojon, the Realm of Faeries, in the form of various animals. More powerful Faeries became larger animals. The largest that Yanji had seen was one in the form of a bear, but he had heard of larger. Usually, Faeries from Ojon could only travel to planes with a special connection with it. Thyrill was one. This must be another.
Yanji smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
My Planeswalker
Yanji Ujo is a Tortle from the plane of Thyrill, a plane filled with extremes. Enormous trees that would dwarf the California redwoods, sweltering deserts and bitterly cold tundras, and oceans that would take years to sail across. Yanji hails from one of the enormous forests. Tortles aren't the best climbers, so he's spent his entire life firmly on the ground.
From a young age, Yanji had a strange connection with the faerie spirits that cross over to Thyrill from the fae plane of Ojon. It seemed that they simply understood each other on a fundamental level. Clancularius, miraculously, is another plane that is connected to Ojon. (Hooray for plot convenience!) This means that he can use his connection to call on the aid of these faeries whenever he needs.
Perhaps as a result of this connection, Yanji is a talented summoner. Fae creatures are the things he most often brings to his side, but his conjuring abilities extend to much of the natural kingdom. In fact, his name translated from Thyrillan means "Peaceful Summoner." The "peaceful" section of the name is because of Yanji's natural disposition against violence. If there is a way that he can solve a problem without directly fighting, he'll try to find it.
Yanji's memory is hazy concerning the events directly before his arrival on Clancularius, so he doesn't actually know how his spark activated. This is a mystery that he must solve if he is going to make it to the end.
Yanji's Spellbook
Obviously, Yanji's theme/niche is Faeries, and getting things to enter the battlefield from places other than your hand. In white, this usually means flickering (keyworded to save space when neccecary) and in green it means grabbing creatures from your library.
I have decided that I cannot host this contest at this time. I simply do not have the enthusiasm which I thought I would. Since the editing time of this thread is about to run out I decided to just cancel it.
I don't know if I might grow enthusiastic later, and start up this contest again (if no one else is hosting it). That could be in only a few weeks, months or even longer. That time is not now though. If anyone would like to start a new or even continue PwJ 3 then feel free to do so. It would be sad to see all entries here go to waste.
I do have another saga on my mind that I am interested in trying out called "9 hours of midnight". When and if I would start that saga would probably not be within a couple of months at least.
Regardless. I am sorry for any inconvenience I have caused, and I hope that there is someone or some people who wants to try to salvage what work has been done here so that it is not lost. Thank you for your understanding!
MTG Cardsmith Community Forums
Comments
Trevor Alvisor, born of the great Musir Alvisor, from a young age always wanted to be a knight, he squired under his father and upon his fathers death, he squired under a knight known by the likes of Sir Willow, Dragon Tooth. At the age of 25 he was crowned the title knight by the king of the kingdom he lived in Alfred.
He went on to win many battles, his forte ( a term for what knights would be named after) being that he won his battles using jagged swords and spikey armor. At the age of 37 he would become to be known as Trevor, The Knight of thorn. He won many battles, conquered challenge after challenge, until one fatefull day.
Trevor and his garrison of ten young knights and two squires had been assigned a mission to scout the terrace of any opposing fighters during an ongoing campaign that had been going on since Trevor was a squire. The skies where gray and thunder scared the horses amidst the drizzly climb on the side path of the mountainous climb. All had been going well and they were on time, until...
It was so sudden and no one would have ever anticipated it, a bolt of lightning struck hundreds of feet above a fault line in the cliffs they were traversing. Boulders raced down the peaks as the knights struggled to keep their horses in control. Trevor had to do something. He valiantly leaped infront of the land slide with shield forward in a meaningless attempt to halt the land slide so his companions can escape. Faced with death, he stood there in honor and bravery, until a blinding light encompassed him, never to be seen again.
To his battalion, he had died a hero that day, and his efforts bought time for an escape of his companions. He had a monument erected for him next to his father's and many other valiant knights' , but to him, that was when his spark ignited.
He awoke in a mysterious plane and with his new found magic, that granted him and near invulnerability, he rushed to protect, those who couldn't protect themselves.
Trevor's Theme is Rose (Like a beautiful rose great to observe but deadly when touched due to it's thorns. His abilities will be defensive in nature, centered on (damage prevention), punishing attackers with his mechanics e.g (Thorn: Deal x damage to blockers) and due to him being a knight, shielding others (Hexproof) ).
Ig, Great Discoverer
(Yes, that's an official job title.)
Lyre was never the kind of plane you'd expect the maybe-soon-to-be-aspiring-hero Troll Coward named Ig to be from, but with the vast and beautiful multiverse in front of and around you, anything is possible.
See, Lyre was born into silence and greyscale. Think of an old silent movie, only much more solemn—nothing was really and truly alive. Days dragged on while its denizens went about their monotonous routines. Eventually, seemingly out of nowhere, the sky erupted into an aurora of color known as the Opening Act. The plane, now awash with color, spent what could be considered decades, centuries, or perhaps even eons in this bright, soundless state, with the people of Lyre developing breathtaking pieces of art.
Eventually we get to the just-before-the-spark moment. The first sound. That is, the tiny sound of his mouse companion Demetrius squeaking. Our Troll Coward friend was so startled by this that his heart stopped! And, well, you know the rest. And in case you don't, here's the brief and definitely not quoted synopsis of the current state of affairs:
"After a dramatic moment [in his] life, [he] finally but slowly [woke] up to the sounds of the surrounding world. [His] body is sore, [his] muscles are weak, [his] mind is spinning, [his] ears are ringing as like after an explosion - but there were no explosion. Not what [he] can remember at least. Something happened within [him] and pulled [his] very being away just before... before [his] death."
Ig and His Signature Spellbook
Uncommon
Demetrius planeswalked with Ig! Although he does not have a spark of his own, Demetrius and anything Ig has collected (such as insects) seemed to just...go with him. No damage. No pain. Just as if they had planeswalked with him. Granted, they are just as confused as he is.
Common
Teamwork makes the dream work! These two simple spells work well with small creatures and with each other.
Token
Ig's very first discovery was an interesting glowing...insect...bug...winged-yet-flightless...thing in the forests of Lyre. Unfortunately for him, this was the only friend in his collection that came with. Hopefully he'll make more discoveries as he explores!
What to Expect
Best of luck to everyone, and may the endless waltz of Lyre light your path!
Credits: Arceus helped fine-tune the submission and help me change my previously mono-G walker into a Selesnya pal. Tomigon, on this thread, is responsible for the set symbol used.
I must postpone the start of the first challenge.
I don't know when I can get it done so I can't give a new deadline yet.
Hope you get that dealt with. Take all the time you need.
-IN THE MEANTIME-
Key word being was...
Her spellbook will be filled up and the profile and story working its way out of my head and into black and white this weekend. I wanted to get as much as I could today to lock my participation in.
Zren then took a moment to gather their thoughts.
How much mass did we lose?
The voice of a thousand buzzing locusts replied, We are all here.
As are we, gurgled a mass of worms.
The phermones of the Zren's ant colony indicated, All subjects are present and accounted for.
Zren received similar reports from all facets of her body. Whatever happened to them, it didn't seem to harm them physically.
Speculations on what happened?
The colony of wasps danced their way up and down Zren's arm to make their message known, Our pursuer possessed many strange magics. Perhaps when we devoured him we triggered a defensive spell.
Warping someone across so great a distance would be a very elaborate spell in deed, this is more likely the result of a spell misfiring. If we consumed our pursuer midspell, this could be an unintended consequence, chittered the termites.
Zren considered this. Whatever else happened, do we all agree our pursuer is dead?
In a rare moment, all of Zren spoke as one, YES
Then no matter what else has happened, today is a good day, Zren thought.
YES, her body replied.
It was then Zren felt a very peculiar sensation. A snake winding in and through them. Never before had Zren's body hosted such a massive creature. The serpent delevered more questions than answers, but one statement stood out. Zren was being hunted. Again. But what was this spark the serpent spoke of?
Perhaps, wriggled the maggots, it spoke of this. The maggots deleivered to Zren reports a glow. Something radiant, but dying. It felt... good.
You should have reported this immediately, Zren rebuked.
The maggots curled up defensively, We had many important matter to discuss, we would have reported this eventually.
Zren wasn't so sure of that, but decided to let the matter slide for now.
What does it feel like? Danced the hornets, May we inspect it?
No! Cried the maggots, We found it, it's ours!
Where did you find it? Zren demanded.
When we devoured our pursuer, we felt the glow. We pulled it out of him and now it's ours!
It's all of ours, Zren corrected, It's part of our body now, and I will ensure every faction get's a chance to inspect this new addition. But for now we have larger concerns. We are being hunted. We must arm ourselves, feed ourselves, and then we have to get to the tower.
And so Zren started their journey through this mysterious land.
Zren ends the cooperation of your your bodies cells with the sorcery Dissolution.
Zren lets loose a swarm of insects that continue to pester her foes with the enchantment Consuming Cloud
Zren molds a living weapon from flesh and bone that is designed to consume those who wield it.
Zren's magic will focus on small creatures, and living weapons, with subthemes of death triggers and sacrifice.
Tirany's Tale, Prelude I - A Cascade of Laughter
Tirany burst into joyous laughter. It has been so long since anything this patently ridiculous had happened to her. Clutching her stomach she knelt down, crushing some of the long wild grasses to the earth.
She caught her breath and looked around to the beautiful meadow, looked up at the tower. She had seen it’s like before, center of the land called Spindle. A monument to male megalomania if ever there is one. Then she remembered the circle of archmages that, and lost her composure again as she recalled reading a history book on how they had “erected” it! She remembered war with them, war to the knife. Not her first. Far from her first. Her head seemed to start rushing. Memories rushing into her head and leaving rushing and rushing and rushing until – oops!
Rush and go.
Rush and go.
Rush and go.
Ever faster rush and go!
Each her own, not as she is now. How she once upon an ago. They were suddenly a torrent or a waterfall. She was standing under a cascade. Each there and then gone, like getting hit by a mountain, which disappears the moment before crushing her to leave a grain of sand. Then another. Then another.
Countless lives pummeled her as the sand seemed to quickly surround her. As if she were sitting at the bottom of an hourglass. Boulding a round and primal mound, with her at the center. Creeping pas her knees and covering her lap quickly. Rising to her hips and then up to rips. Rib by rib as her arms flailed and she screamed.
It became more clear that the sand of memories was like the sand in the eyes after sleeping. Something a living thing had made. That she had made. In fell into her mouth and she swallowed as it reached her breasts and she realized it was too late to stand. Yet she was surrounded by herself, or at lease what she once was.
It got in her eyes as it reached her shoulders and kept right on going. So very quickly it advanced nos. Neck and jaw, ear and eye. Darkness and wooshing sound as her arms became immobile. The strange feeling of her head being covered, but the impacts above her continuing. Almost losing everything, only her fingers left and it stopped like a sunshine thunderstorm that suddenly noticed ti has started its rain on the wrong day of the week.
The moment it stopped she was suddenly whole again. While she could not remember everything, not hundredth of everything, not a ten thousandth. Less. Yet still enough. She remembered living before. Many times. Endless times? Back into eons past.
It had been pretty much a live since that disastrous day when things changed and she had been trapped. Her spark going out suddenly. Trapping her. Now she was free. She was not going to give that up. Things were not as before, but that was how things always were really. Life is change.
She spread her hands, as she had so many times before. The sand was hot under the sin as she started to move. It was never fun, crawling out of the earth after you were buried. It was thrilling in a unique and strange way. An exercise of will, a determination to live. Mere physical things could not bar her from this. She had cracked stone to do it, swum up through lava, risen rom unfathomable depths. Pulling out the dream sand was easy for her. It Dave way, gave way and started to evaporate.
By the time her top quarte was out the sand was evaporating rapidly, subliming into pearlescent mist and facing under the harsh noonday sun. She shook her hair out, noticing how it has gone for resting at near-white tow headedness to a darkened platinum. Standing, she laughed again. She was Young! It felt so good. Things looked sharp and colorful and bright. The clouds! Oh the clouds were more than fugue blurs again. She could hear insects in the meadow about her, so loud for things so small. Her frame was a tall! The king of her arms smooth and creamy, without a liver spot or blemish. Her hand went to her face and felt nothing winkled or sagging at all anymore. She took a deep breath, untroubled by that hitch in her right side and stretched, feeling the pleasure of a strong body. It was about time!
She dimly remembered that she had just been old for an exceptionally long time. No doubt, whatever disaster had trapped her had also played havoc with her regular passing along from life to death and back again. Youth was new to her again. Not so new that it did not occur before her recent transition. Sometimes it is hard to say the way things are. Did she before young so she could leave, or did she leave because she was renewed?
She tilted and shook her head, noticing her hair had changed form toe-headed white to a blonde deeper than platinum. Odd now not to see it iron grey. But it has been every color at some point of other, just like the rest of her it was only as it was for the present, change was at the heart of her nature.
Turning to the sun and closing her eyes, she looked into the redness and took a deep calming breath. Her memories were a hazed jumble but those of her awakening were fresh and hers alone, and odd.
Tirany's Tale, Prelude II - A Little Turn in the Sun.
Turning to the sun and closing her eyes, she looked into the redness and took a deep calming breath. Her memories were a hazed jumble but those of her awakening were fresh and hers alone, and odd.
The snake that spoke to her was not a real snake. A serpent hunting her, well duh. Not the real serpent of course, although it sounded the sort of thing that would disagree. Like many things of the sort, there were many imitators of the real sources of the name so many used. She had been told enough to act.
It might be a lie. Just a goad to spur her to walk willingly into her own doom. Well, the real first past in foiling a trap is questioning “is that a trap?” Still, she knew she didn’t understand what had happened the last handful of decades or so. It has been so strange.
She turned widdershins in place and the redness dimmed and grew. It as an elementary exercise. One a child or a dog did instinctively. She stopped and opened her eyes staring at the tower. Not a simple illusion, or a thing without cardinal force.
So high, wreathed in clouds and haze. Impossibly tall, so much so it is impossible to see the base or even wisely conjecture how far off it is. Could be continents between her and it, could be oceans. Or itch could be plainly visible if she here standing at the horizons.
Some say every journey begins with a step. They’re wrong. It begins with the decision to move. As one side of her mouth quirked up into a smile in a way it has not for over a century, she decided.
Tirany is old. I don't mean old like you think of as a person, or a house, or an empire. Nor even as old as dirt. She was around to watch the stone become dirt old. A being extant from deep time. Change is part of her nature, she exists more in a cyclical time than a linear one. Young to old to dead, then beginning anew. Her regular course has been disrupted. She has just begun anew, and is in a strange land. She feels no particular fear right now, even of her old friend death, but everything that thinks always does. There is a slight trepidation though, the unknown does that even to her, even after all this time.
Note - I very much did not read anyone else's story, lest it corrupt of deflect the writing of my character's introduction. So. Yippee! - now I get to a sort of pop-corn time as I go back and review the creations of everyone else.
has a WUBRG nature but is currently mono-white. Niad of Purificaiton does use blue in it's color identity, but this makes it less powerful, as it has no Bestow in a true mono-white deck.
Themes include animals, enchantments, restorative/resurrection magic, and token creatures. Which led me to a second spell in her spellbook. Sort of an equal rights/animal rights amendment to the rules. It shows just how important friends are to her and ate up the rest of her points:
Yes, it affects everyone's tokens. But since tokens normally disappear few couple them with anything that could let them return as her spellbook will.
Spellbook:
Aoruum is was pulled into a mysterious timeline in Dominaria, caused by the multiple rifts that opened. He serves under a dark ruler as an advisor, keeping close examinations of other timelines.
"Sir, I've studied the charts for months, but there are no fluxes large enough to transport us back."
"Surely there is a ritual that can open one?"
"Yes, but it's dangerous, and it could fail."
"Open it."
Taking his book and knife, he carved a circle, spoke incantations, and the circle glowed with dark power.
"Now step in."
Aoruum did, but he soon realized the spell hadn't worked, and was knocked unconscious as he traveled through planes.
After a little while of wandering, using his spiked walking stick to help bear the brunt of his shell's weight while he was still disoriented, he found a small lake. It wasn't much, but it was a type of area that he was familiar with. Lakes were, at least on Thyrill, hotspots for Fae activity. Sure enough, on a rock a few feet off shore sat a lizard. To untrained eyes, it would simply look like a regular reptile. However, the slight shine of its scales and a gleam of intelligence in its eye told Yanji that this was, in fact, a Faerie.
Faeries were only able to enter the mortal realm in their true form very rarely. Instead, they came from Ojon, the Realm of Faeries, in the form of various animals. More powerful Faeries became larger animals. The largest that Yanji had seen was one in the form of a bear, but he had heard of larger. Usually, Faeries from Ojon could only travel to planes with a special connection with it. Thyrill was one. This must be another.
Yanji smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
My Planeswalker
Yanji Ujo is a Tortle from the plane of Thyrill, a plane filled with extremes. Enormous trees that would dwarf the California redwoods, sweltering deserts and bitterly cold tundras, and oceans that would take years to sail across. Yanji hails from one of the enormous forests. Tortles aren't the best climbers, so he's spent his entire life firmly on the ground.
From a young age, Yanji had a strange connection with the faerie spirits that cross over to Thyrill from the fae plane of Ojon. It seemed that they simply understood each other on a fundamental level. Clancularius, miraculously, is another plane that is connected to Ojon. (Hooray for plot convenience!) This means that he can use his connection to call on the aid of these faeries whenever he needs.
Perhaps as a result of this connection, Yanji is a talented summoner. Fae creatures are the things he most often brings to his side, but his conjuring abilities extend to much of the natural kingdom. In fact, his name translated from Thyrillan means "Peaceful Summoner." The "peaceful" section of the name is because of Yanji's natural disposition against violence. If there is a way that he can solve a problem without directly fighting, he'll try to find it.
Yanji's memory is hazy concerning the events directly before his arrival on Clancularius, so he doesn't actually know how his spark activated. This is a mystery that he must solve if he is going to make it to the end.
Yanji's Spellbook
Obviously, Yanji's theme/niche is Faeries, and getting things to enter the battlefield from places other than your hand. In white, this usually means flickering (keyworded to save space when neccecary) and in green it means grabbing creatures from your library.
I have decided that I cannot host this contest at this time.
I simply do not have the enthusiasm which I thought I would.
Since the editing time of this thread is about to run out I decided to just cancel it.
I don't know if I might grow enthusiastic later, and start up this contest again (if no one else is hosting it). That could be in only a few weeks, months or even longer. That time is not now though.
If anyone would like to start a new or even continue PwJ 3 then feel free to do so. It would be sad to see all entries here go to waste.
I do have another saga on my mind that I am interested in trying out called "9 hours of midnight". When and if I would start that saga would probably not be within a couple of months at least.
Regardless. I am sorry for any inconvenience I have caused, and I hope that there is someone or some people who wants to try to salvage what work has been done here so that it is not lost.
Thank you for your understanding!