Currently on hiatus. Will resume in July, or sooner.

Current story updates:

Current story interludes/Side stories:
Every other Saturday

Other pieces:
Every other Saturday (Saturdays I don't run the Interludes/Side Stories)

During certain periods updates may come more often; at other times updates may come less often. This schedule is my hoped-for goal.

Sunday, 8 June 2014

Fanfic part 2 (WIP)

So, this is the second fanfic I wrote. Its not done yet, and I may finish it later.
It is about the planeswalker Xenagos from Magic the Gathering. Its kinda a hit or miss thing.

Xenagos stood up and shook off the last of the revels' stupor.
It had been at best a mediocre revel. He had only killed three people. That was better than usual for this plane though.
He shrugged as he looked around the metal world. He really had not expected something like this. A world made entirely of metal? Where people had odd metal grafts and the grass was like blades?
No, it did not make much sense, in the context of Theros at least. But, he supposed, it made sense in the context of the multiverse.
The satyr shrugged again and pulled his lamp-staff from where it stood embedded in the ground beside him. It was time to get going again. He had other planes to visit, other revels to attend. For a satyr who liked to party, opening up the Multiverse was like a birthday. So many presents to choose from, but all of them were yours.
It was just a matter of which one you turned to first.
Smiling, Xenagos took a few steps forwards and cracked his staff down on the head of poor leonin who had been so interested in him.
Stupid cats. While different from the leonin of Theros, they were still too similar in lofty ideals and honour. All silly concepts.
The Vedalken of this plane though, they intrigued him. Four armed, tall, blue, stately. It would be interesting to see if he could entice one into a revel.
Xenagos turned back to look at the city he had left the night before.
He could go back and try...
No. He wasn't all that interested in this plane. And something felt wrong here anyways; he'd much rather try to find Vedalken somewhere else.
Taking a deep breath, he called on his bonds to the valleys of Theros, especially Skola Valley, situated as it was in the heart of the Nessian, above that primal almost volcanic heat. He felt the great bonfires that the satyrs lit at the revel each night, felt the flow of the life in the forest, and let it flow out through him. He raised his lamp-staff high, and began to slowly spin it, the flames at its end glowing brighter and brighter as he channeled the energies of the Valley into the land around him.
He could feel it slowly bending out of shape, becoming something else, be4coming more akin to Theros. When it reached breaking point he spun his staff down in front of him, the glowing lamps leaving a line of flame. He stepped through that line, and into the Blind Eternities.
Chaos. Raw natural mana. Nothing, and everything, all at the same time. If he could channel the Eternities, channel this chaos, then he could become so much more. But it would destroy him to do so. Those revels in the valley, the hedonism of the satyrs, were but poor reflections of the magic of the Eternities.
At least Xenagos knew this. Most would never even begin to grasp the idea.
That was why he was special. Because he did know.
And because he knew, he had to keep looking, keep looking for a revel that could match the sheer exhilarating rush of Planeswalking, find something that could compare to how alive he felt while trying to fight against the Multiverse itself to preserve his sanity.
He took one step with a leg that existed only in his mind, only as a dream, and then another with a leg likewise illusionary. Right, left, clip, clop, one, two.
He would make it to the next Plane. The Eternities would not break him. He was Xenagos, the Reveler, the Stranger on all other Planes, a King among others who were blind to the truth.
He was Xenagos. He was destined for so much more. He would see greatness. He would see glory. He would know the taste of an infinite success.
But first he had to take another step.
A thousand years passed during the next second as he stepped through the hole in space that was another Plane.
And stumbled out onto cobbled streets.
Which was odd. He usually arrived in some natural place, further away from cities, long enough for him to get a feel for the land of the Plane. Long enough for him to grow to be able to bend its powers to his will, to dominate the minds of those around him.
Curious, he sent his mind out questing. Yes, there was mana all around him. All around. He was in a city, but it was full of the life, the energy of the forest.
Xenagos finally took a moment to actually look around. He was in a street, bordered by buildings. Growing from those buildings were trees of all kinds. There were people everywhere, staring at him. And coming closer were two centaurs.
The stayr narrowed his eyes as he planted his lamp-staff firmly on the ground between his feet. He would not be swayed, would not be chased, by those ridiculous centaurs.
"Citizen, what are you doing here? And where are most of your clothes?"
The first centaur narrowed his eyes as he lowered his glaive to point at Xenagos' chest. His eyes moved, taking in the long flowing hair, the twisted horns, the robes, and most of all the revel paint.
"Are you a member of the Rakdos?"
"The what?"
The centaur raised an eyebrow and turned to his companion.
"He doesn't remember what the Rakdos is"
"He'll probably deny knowledge of the Selesnya next"
"He may actually be amnesiac. The cultists of Rakdos often are"
"And he could only be a Rakdos"
"Or possibly a Dimir, or a Simic"
"Indeed. Now, is this an issue for the Boros or the Azorious?"
"Neither. We force him to leave ourselves"
At this point Xenagos decided to cut in. He slowly raised one arm, and began to channel the mana of the Skola Valley.
Realizing that that would take too long he instead grabbed the life force of the forests around him. While it did not provide him with the flames he needed for most spells, it would do enough.
As roots and tendrils shot out of the ground to ensnare the two centaurs they bucked and reared in fear.
"Release us miscreant!"
Xenagos smiled at them, and began to pick his teeth with a finger.
"I...think not. It’s not worth letting you go free at this moment to impale me"
Others were paying attention now, but Xenagos wasn't interested in them. He'd just wipe their memories later, or maybe leave them all in a drunken stupor.
Hmm. To help facilitate that, he'd need help.
"Why don't we all just listen to my allies, and be friends?"
With a wave of his hand, and then another, two more satyr appeared at his side. Almost ghostly and transparent they stood, awaiting his orders.
"Kill anyone nearby who tries to get away"
As the crowd began to panic his satyr's leapt forwards to stop any who tried to run. After two or three were killed by satyr swords the others fell still, ready to obey Xenagos for some reason.
Likely they know help is coming, Xenagos mused.
"I guess I'll work quickly then! I am a stranger among you. This you know. This you will forget, for I am also a king! I am a king among you, one who can see among those who are blind. You'll tell me about your world, and then forget, by the decree of the stranger, the decree of the king!"
He looked around at the group as he laced his words with threads of mana.
"You" He pointed at a pretty human man "You'll answer me"
The man nodded, stepping forwards, and began to spill out details.
"You, and you, chime in if he misses something"
The Vedalken and human he was pointing at both nodded.
"And the rest of you. Break into the stores, start a riot, start a revel. Enjoy your life, your freedom from the constraints that society places on you!"
Xenagos smiled as he led his three eagerly chattering guides down an alley.

It seemed that the Plane he was on was called Ravnica. It was ruled by ten Guilds, massive groups ruled by powerful beings. In his mind he likened them to the gods.
The Guilds that seemed most in line with his own interests were the Gruul and the Rakdos. The Gruul were bestial, reveling in their primal natures, while the Rakdos were revelers, like himself.
He vowed to see them both before he left.
And now he understood the references to Azorius and Boros. Both were lawmakers and lawkeepers, but went about it in different ways. He resolved top steer clear of both of those groups, as well as the Simic, odd weirdos who experimented on all kinds of life. They would likely try and figure out what he was, as apparently, satyrs did not exist on this plane either. Were they unique to Theros?
Xenagos smiled at the idea. That would be ironic. A Planeswalker who would never fit in but on the world that he had left. He truly would be forever a stranger, and a true stranger unlike those others who were just unknown. A king of strangers.
He smiled again at his own wit, thanked his guides, and left the three of them trying to tear each other's throats out with their teeth. It wouldn't do to deny them their revel after serving him so faithfully.
As he wandered the streets he saw many more things.
Odd creatures, part fish part insect, dragons, small wrinkled things wearing sparking metals gloves, massive beasts...
The list went on and on. For any of these peoples, the peons, first introduced into the Plane, their minds would have snapped.
But, Xenagos reminded himself, I am not one of the peons. A king of strangers, one who can handle any oddity, a planeswalker, out of place everywhere but his home.
Finally, he reached his destination. He had followed the trail of the mana, a beautiful blend of fire and forest, like his own Skola Valley.
He stood, in the midst of a rubble field, staring up at a bridge above him.
He would stay the night here and drink in the mana. And maybe someone would come visit him, and he could have a revel as well.
Smiling, he began to climb to the top, his lamp-staff glowing brighter as night fell, acting as a beacon to draw in all foolish enough to think they could master the satyr.

He sat on the bridge as the cyclops, ogres, and monsters of all kinds closed in on him.
“Hello. I am Xenagos”
The approaching crowd stopped and looked at this overconfident thing sitting on their bridge. They would not accept this, could not-
“I would like to invite you all to join me in a small little get together. It is called a revel”
Xenagos stood and looked around as a massive two headed ogre pushed its way to the front of the crowd.
“Ruric” “And Thar no like” “Silly beast. You” “Will leave right” “Now”
The two heads finished each others sentences in a most annoying way. Xenagos shrugged and cast a simple spell on the warrior.
And staggered backwards as the thing’s double mind repelled the spell.
“Hmm. Perhaps you have a point”
Xenagos stood there and stared at the beast. While he did not want to admit defeat, it would be easier to not try and beat the monstrous ogre, especially not if the thing could repel his spell.
He shrugged and jumped down from the bridge. The satyrs he had left behind would stir up something. As the noises of fighting started behind him he smiled and continued on to find the Rakdos.

Xenagos descended further into the dark places of Ravnica. Soon he was in the bowels, the guildhall of the cult of Rakdos.

It was one eternal revel.

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