Stromkirk-Gate-Krothus

As this is a suicidal endeavor, I wish to leave behind notes about what went right and where we failed. Today, I will be addressing two major parts of our plan:

1: we are worried that Valgavoth will breach into our plane, and

2: we are worried that our forces will be destroyed upon the creaking floorboards of the house itself.

To address these issues, as well as create a weapon for use and a measure of containment against the dragonstorms, we have created the highly unstable "Storm in a Bottle." These have allowed us to capture forming dragonstorms and choose the details of the dragon they summon. To address issue number one with this, we have created something we like to call the "omnistorm." The omnistorm, upon detecting Valgavoth's presence, will immediately send a powerful dragon to eat any non-native flora, fauna, or entities that have entered Tarkir. Should the hunter dragon die, two more will be spawned, doubling every time until either the invader is wiped out or we are.

This has also enabled us to move dragonstorms to other realms. Not only are these expected to force Valgavoth to respond to the dragonstorms with his house movement, but should also clear out natives. This will then open a path for our armies of eternalized dragons and other assorted zombies to open Valgavoths den, where the Spirit Dragons will tear him apart.

I would hate to have to intervene.

With respect

I wish you the best of luck with your lord.

I would hate to have to intervene.

With respect

I would hate to have to intervene.

The time has come. The hour is at hand. Your vengeance shall be yours.

Come to me. Come, and take your fill. Tonight, we shall begin our reign.

He does know how to give an theatrical entrace, tought an lonely and bearded vagrant, who was on his way to the Vazante`s domains.

He alongside more refugees, were escapin from the ravenous hunger of the vampires. An widowed pair, were tending their wounds with the remaining bandages of the medical chariot. The rider eager her horsed to continue running whitout rest, as the nigth engulfed the world.

An familiar feeling. The despair, the fear of the prey. Running, running as mouses, towards our ratholes. Tought the lonely vagrant.

His eyes meet the eyes of an elderly men, an merchant perchance. He was holding tight, as his own soul, an pendant with names. Praying in whisper, for the safety of his family.

The vagrant sighed.

Lisuarte continued to retreat, giving whistled commands to Hugo as he went. The dog snarled and charged and bit, but something was... off. The retired paladin didn't have time to investigate.

Cantaso needed to be defended, and he'd do his job as its lord to defend it.

As he saw Braras moving towards the estate, he quickly reached for the bunched chains at his hip, swinging his hammer at the impending tendrils of one thing and gaining some momentum with an overhead swing of a meteor hammer before he threw it right for the perceived neck of the great horror seeking to attack his home.

"Blessed Saint and all Venerables," he was muttering. "If I am to die here, let me-"

"BRARAS!" a voice bellowed. Lisuarte paused, distracted as he heard hoofbeats and, somehow, emerging from the shadowed darkness, silvered spear in one hand, came Arturo. One of the horrors capitalized on the opening the distraction had left, wrapping a tendril around one of his arms. The lord growled and did his best to fight it off, whistling for Hugo, but his hound was no longer listening.

The paladin pulls his arm back, throwing the moonsilver spear at the great beast, drawing out a blade sheathed at his hip and jumping from the saddle to follow the spear.

"Remember me, you bastard?" he shouted. "Hm? I'm the one you're after! Come and get me! But this time, I won't throw your corpse to the abyss, I'll make it a proper Vazante family heirloom!"

He points the ancestral katana at Braras.

"You haven`t changed one bit. The same proud and self-righteous paladin." Braras meet Arturo. His golden armour was blemished by the turmoil of the war. The katana, distilling a clear power. One akin to the weapons blessed by geists.

"Gift from Koda?" He asked, without hate or love for the reckoner. An annoying hint of shame and guilt tried to weigh him down. The same kamigawan who offered help when Braras was nobody. The same kamigawan, who helped Ulappa many tim-- This wasn`t about thems!!

Another consciousness was revealed to him. A creature of four limbs. Now far away from senior Vazante. Could it be?

The time has come. The hour is at hand. Your vengeance shall be yours.

Come to me. Come, and take your fill. Tonight, we shall begin our reign.

He does know how to give an theatrical entrace, tought an lonely and bearded vagrant, who was on his way to the Vazante`s domains.

He alongside more refugees, were escapin from the ravenous hunger of the vampires. An widowed pair, were tending their wounds with the remaining bandages of the medical chariot. The rider eager her horsed to continue running whitout rest, as the nigth engulfed the world.

An familiar feeling. The despair, the fear of the prey. Running, running as mouses, towards our ratholes. Tought the lonely vagrant.

His eyes meet the eyes of an elderly men, an merchant perchance. He was holding tight, as his own soul, an pendant with names. Praying in whisper, for the safety of his family.

The vagrant sighed.

But the retired Marshal was not alone. He was a Master of Hounds, after all, and so he did have a hound with him. Hugo was dressed in leather barding and fitted with a spiked collar, remaining steadfastly at his master's side.

All they could do was wait. The demons would find them sooner or later.

He looked back to the strange, small lens he had also kept on him. During Arturo's incredibly brief visit, he had asked his father to put it on his gauntlet. For protection, he said, and just in case he needed to shout for backup.

Lisuarte wondered if Arturo would get to him in time should he be required. He hadn't said much about where he was going.

Even, with the improverished man, of uncared beard and partched clothes. Hugo smell nothing.

"I am Lord Vazante. What message do you have for me?" he asked. "Are you being sent from Alta Torrezon? You look hardly like a conventional messenger to me."

Something was wrong. He gripped his hammer, brows knitted, dark eyes narrowed. He had the lens if Arturo needed him. Could the demons take on the forms of humans? Perhaps. It was said that some had hallucinated visions of the dead thanks to his influence. But this man was unrecognizable to him.

He stood up. " Do you remember my last advice? That you shouldn`t provoke the fragile politics of the dynasties? That you would make an dangerous enemy?" He rambled, in a maddened tone. From within the house, sounds platters and woods breaking can be heard.

"I warned you Arturo. Today, I shall pay, in kind, of your visit" Concluded the stranger, as his illusion burned away, revealing an foreign vampire, of long hair and maddened eyes.

Soon, the walls of the nearby house gave away.

He stopped as he noticed the deep, unnatural change in his surroundings. Every part of him screamed to run and flee, but his discipline as a man of war won out. He knew he would have to stay and fight, but...

Saint and Venerables above and below, what was he even looking at?

His jaw worked and he quickly fumbled for the lens he had been given, speaking into it and doing his best to keep the fear from his voice.

"Arturo!"

A pause. The Lord Vazante readied his hammer, ready to swing as tendrils and madness descended on him.

"Father?"

"Beast in Cantaso!" He swung his warhammer in an arc, the familiarity of the motion helping to combat the madness and fear threatening to overwhelm him. "I can't fight it alone!"

"What kind of-"

"You befouled thing! Back!" he shouted, retreating a half-step and giving a whistled command to Hugo. "It has tentacles and claws, boy. It is too much for me to handle alone. I need you!"

There was another pause. Lisuarte kept retreating, kept swinging, kept doing what he could to buy time.

"Braras... I'm coming, father, hold on!"

---

Miles away, Arturo Vazante breaks away from the escort to Alta Torrezon. The mist surrounding the feet of the horses soon begins to ebb and fade the longer he breaks from them. Exhaustion drags at him. He fears that if he pauses, he might drop dead from it alone.

But he cannot pause. He cannot stop. Braras is back, and he's come for his father. He made this far too personal now.

He snarls as he feels his anger building. He should've stayed dead. He would've done everyone a greater favor that way. But now he will correct the error he and his son had made.

This time, this beast would be killed, and he would be protecting those trophies.

The legs of the steed went from only the hooves being surrounded to the entirety of its legs, and then --

Horse and rider vanished into the night. It was an act that was seen as borderline suicidal and insane, but perhaps that was how the paladin was feeling considering he was running headlong into battle with an Eldrazi from a distant plane.

He navigates through the infinite blackness this night has caused, guided only by memories and instinct. It was all to easy to get lost in a place such as this. Too easy to hear one whisper to drag you astray.

He wouldn't. Not when his family was threatened.

I'm coming, father. Hold on. I'll be there in minutes, if that. I'll tear my soul apart to be there.

"It seem.. . . Indeed I have mistook you. Oh well. I am afraid that you will have to pay, for the crime of sharing his house name, Vazante" Concluded Braras, as he went towards the mansion.

"One destroyed inheritance for another, that is part of the prize that I will take Sir Vazante. I expect than Arturo is at least present inside alongside his thralls" Continued monologuing, Braras transmitted an order to three more horrors, as they broke outside their hiding spots. They would hear to the vampire and the dog.

Any of your representant would be acceptable. Tought, we need an brief description of their appearance and name. I wouldn`t want my falkenarth accuaintances, to accidentally hurt your people.

And I advise to be more carefull around wich words you share with the Voldarens. . . .

I lament the lost of your progenitor.

...Thank you for your sympathies, kind friend.

The time has come. The hour is at hand. Your vengeance shall be yours.

Come to me. Come, and take your fill. Tonight, we shall begin our reign.

He does know how to give an theatrical entrace, tought an lonely and bearded vagrant, who was on his way to the Vazante`s domains.

He alongside more refugees, were escapin from the ravenous hunger of the vampires. An widowed pair, were tending their wounds with the remaining bandages of the medical chariot. The rider eager her horsed to continue running whitout rest, as the nigth engulfed the world.

An familiar feeling. The despair, the fear of the prey. Running, running as mouses, towards our ratholes. Tought the lonely vagrant.

His eyes meet the eyes of an elderly men, an merchant perchance. He was holding tight, as his own soul, an pendant with names. Praying in whisper, for the safety of his family.

The vagrant sighed.

But the retired Marshal was not alone. He was a Master of Hounds, after all, and so he did have a hound with him. Hugo was dressed in leather barding and fitted with a spiked collar, remaining steadfastly at his master's side.

All they could do was wait. The demons would find them sooner or later.

He looked back to the strange, small lens he had also kept on him. During Arturo's incredibly brief visit, he had asked his father to put it on his gauntlet. For protection, he said, and just in case he needed to shout for backup.

Lisuarte wondered if Arturo would get to him in time should he be required. He hadn't said much about where he was going.

Even, with the improverished man, of uncared beard and partched clothes. Hugo smell nothing.

"I am Lord Vazante. What message do you have for me?" he asked. "Are you being sent from Alta Torrezon? You look hardly like a conventional messenger to me."

Something was wrong. He gripped his hammer, brows knitted, dark eyes narrowed. He had the lens if Arturo needed him. Could the demons take on the forms of humans? Perhaps. It was said that some had hallucinated visions of the dead thanks to his influence. But this man was unrecognizable to him.

He stood up. " Do you remember my last advice? That you shouldn`t provoke the fragile politics of the dynasties? That you would make an dangerous enemy?" He rambled, in a maddened tone. From within the house, sounds platters and woods breaking can be heard.

"I warned you Arturo. Today, I shall pay, in kind, of your visit" Concluded the stranger, as his illusion burned away, revealing an foreign vampire, of long hair and maddened eyes.

Soon, the walls of the nearby house gave away.

MEMO: For Approved Eyes Only

FOREWARD:

All but one of the outposts in this report have been fully established within the last year by our family's ambassador. Each operational outpost is semi-independent and self-sustaining, focused on blending in with the plane on which it exists and avoiding unwanted attention from locals.

Each operational outpost is currently staffed by a mix of tenured family members and lower-ranking agents, numbering around 15 per team at time of report. At least two agents on each team are capable of contacting the family across planar boundaries in case of emergency. Ambassador has set up private instant-communication networks with each outpost as well, and is on standby to help defend them at a moment's notice.

The goals of these outposts are as follows:

1) To establish and maintain working relations with powerful groups native to the planes they are stationed on.

2) To keep tabs on the activity of any other Capennan interests working in the area, officially or unofficially.

3) To gather and catalogue the histories of other planes relating to the first Phyrexian invasion, with all such findings sent back to the family on New Capenna for further study.

The contents of this report were written by the ambassador themself, and have been read and approved by both myself and the lady Parnesse. I place my full trust in our ambassador and their capabilities, as well as all members of the teams they have assembled.

Here signed,

Lady Errant of the Maestros, First of Her Name

The time has come. The hour is at hand. Your vengeance shall be yours.

Come to me. Come, and take your fill. Tonight, we shall begin our reign.

He does know how to give an theatrical entrace, tought an lonely and bearded vagrant, who was on his way to the Vazante`s domains.

He alongside more refugees, were escapin from the ravenous hunger of the vampires. An widowed pair, were tending their wounds with the remaining bandages of the medical chariot. The rider eager her horsed to continue running whitout rest, as the nigth engulfed the world.

An familiar feeling. The despair, the fear of the prey. Running, running as mouses, towards our ratholes. Tought the lonely vagrant.

His eyes meet the eyes of an elderly men, an merchant perchance. He was holding tight, as his own soul, an pendant with names. Praying in whisper, for the safety of his family.

The vagrant sighed.

But the retired Marshal was not alone. He was a Master of Hounds, after all, and so he did have a hound with him. Hugo was dressed in leather barding and fitted with a spiked collar, remaining steadfastly at his master's side.

All they could do was wait. The demons would find them sooner or later.

He looked back to the strange, small lens he had also kept on him. During Arturo's incredibly brief visit, he had asked his father to put it on his gauntlet. For protection, he said, and just in case he needed to shout for backup.

Lisuarte wondered if Arturo would get to him in time should he be required. He hadn't said much about where he was going.

Even, with the improverished man, of uncared beard and partched clothes. Hugo smell nothing.

There was a commonality that allowed for a whispered voice to reach out to a shattered remnant of a man. A scion hunted by another of a different plane, slain like a beast, and boasted about like a prized trophy. There was a madness, something else's siren song, reaching outward into the mind of another on a different plane entirely. But something quickly realized that this could be utilized both ways.

And so, reach it did, across stars and depthless black. A whisper that spoke with three voices, in three reflections of the soul. For it was his own voice -- their own voice -- echoing back to them, asking them what it was they were chasing, what it was they longed for the most. What was keeping them going? Their great and glorious pursuit?

Enguillert?

Within the halls of the mind palace, an Braras with the colours of the livings and humbler clothes, was checking among the destroyed cards, books and documents of the libraries. An mess of his years as livings, the huge gasp of the decades as Stromkirk, many consumned by the Mother. He was dusting off one of the newest memories, one of happyness and who bringed calm to the palace, placing it among the stands titled as "Ulappa".

The fellow vampire, was a smart woman, she would find the cure to this madness eventually. He desired, to return back to normalcy. His normalcy. No longer hunting as a animals, buying an land among the myriads of planes, created an new name, to lived as. . . as. . .

. . . .

Stromkirk?

Spite, resentment, anger. For many years, he survived among the games of his elders. He had finally found the freedom from his scion, trought years of deceits and politing. For thousand times, he had escaped from the scythe of dead, both from the angels and from his family. He brought back the soverignity of his house.

Only for all to be taken away by meddling intruders!!! Vasro, an meddlesome squid, who declared as his goal to ruin his life. Hummiliating him among his peers, attempting to murder him in the safety of his own home.

An Arturo!!! He could have made his visit bearable for the both. If he lowered his head, if he pleaded forgivness for the murder. But no, no! To him, his cause was noble. To him, he was a monster to be slain, an demon!!

Stromkirk imperative pursuit, was the "fair" exchange from those two evildoers; the destruction of their lifes!!.

.. . . . . .

The third, was sleep, for now unconcious. Deep in the waters of the mind, aimlessly swimming. It perceived no threat on the plane and it`s nest at the moment.

The god's smile widened, accompanied by the sound of dry flesh being peeled away.

So long as you remain subservient and remember who your betters are, I shall make you my vassal of Innistrad when the time comes. Ixalan shall fall soon. Their time is running out. All it will take is one singular night before all of my children will rest beneath my wings, willing or unwilling.

The bones rattled softly as he moved again.

I will seek them once all is settled. I know better than to spread my wings too far, too fast. My success is all but guaranteed. The Church is failing. There are more of my faithful than there are of theirs. I will call for you when the time is nigh.

Braras awakened from his sleep, within the cave, one of many in Jund. The goblins were feasting upon an viashino, who fell upon their traps.

It was time be done with some of his task. First of all, take away all the toys of Vasro.

There was a commonality that allowed for a whispered voice to reach out to a shattered remnant of a man. A scion hunted by another of a different plane, slain like a beast, and boasted about like a prized trophy. There was a madness, something else's siren song, reaching outward into the mind of another on a different plane entirely. But something quickly realized that this could be utilized both ways.

And so, reach it did, across stars and depthless black. A whisper that spoke with three voices, in three reflections of the soul. For it was his own voice -- their own voice -- echoing back to them, asking them what it was they were chasing, what it was they longed for the most. What was keeping them going? Their great and glorious pursuit?

Enguillert?

Within the halls of the mind palace, an Braras with the colours of the livings and humbler clothes, was checking among the destroyed cards, books and documents of the libraries. An mess of his years as livings, the huge gasp of the decades as Stromkirk, many consumned by the Mother. He was dusting off one of the newest memories, one of happyness and who bringed calm to the palace, placing it among the stands titled as "Ulappa".

The fellow vampire, was a smart woman, she would find the cure to this madness eventually. He desired, to return back to normalcy. His normalcy. No longer hunting as a animals, buying an land among the myriads of planes, created an new name, to lived as. . . as. . .

. . . .

Stromkirk?

Spite, resentment, anger. For many years, he survived among the games of his elders. He had finally found the freedom from his scion, trought years of deceits and politing. For thousand times, he had escaped from the scythe of dead, both from the angels and from his family. He brought back the soverignity of his house.

Only for all to be taken away by meddling intruders!!! Vasro, an meddlesome squid, who declared as his goal to ruin his life. Hummiliating him among his peers, attempting to murder him in the safety of his own home.

An Arturo!!! He could have made his visit bearable for the both. If he lowered his head, if he pleaded forgivness for the murder. But no, no! To him, his cause was noble. To him, he was a monster to be slain, an demon!!

Stromkirk imperative pursuit, was the "fair" exchange from those two evildoers; the destruction of their lifes!!.

.. . . . . .

The third, was sleep, for now unconcious. Deep in the waters of the mind, aimlessly swimming. It perceived no threat on the plane and it`s nest at the moment.

The god's smile widened, accompanied by the sound of dry flesh being peeled away.

So long as you remain subservient and remember who your betters are, I shall make you my vassal of Innistrad when the time comes. Ixalan shall fall soon. Their time is running out. All it will take is one singular night before all of my children will rest beneath my wings, willing or unwilling.

The bones rattled softly as he moved again.