#dominaria

“The terms are fair, Myrel of Argive. You would be wise to accept them.”

“It’s ‘Shield of’…” The vanguard leader sheepishly rubbed the back of their neck. “Forget it. Yes, Commander Arbor. we surrender.”

With the scratch of a quill fashioned from a fallen twig, the assembled dryads loosed a victorious cheer, joined by their treefolk allies. The defeated human soldiers, however, were understandably more subdued. The dryad from before spoke once more, her authoritative voice shaking the crown of verdant leaves that comprised her hair:

“So, that’s that, then.”

“Yes, well,” Myrel grumbled under their breath. “Perhaps maneuvering the vanguard into a dense forest wasn’t my finest moment.”

“Perhaps. But interrupting a funeral was your true folly. Never take the treefolk’s lethargy for granted.”

“A funeral?”

“Yes. Did you not…? A treefolk was carrying another in its arms!”

“We never saw them!”

“I suppose the pallbearer wouldn’t be marching towards a battle…” Arbor’s mouth set in a thin line. “All right. Look. Yours was still a military maneuver. It deserved our response in turn.”

Myrel nodded slowly, in begrudging agreement.

“However. Neither side suffered tremendous casualties…or, any, come to think of it. And, I no longer believe that you deliberately attacked us during a funeral.”

“A funeral for a-” Myrel began, only for Arbor to raise a hand to interrupt them.

“Apologize to Birch, then you and your forces can go.”

“Fine.” Myrel strode over to the largest treefolk, who carried a felled trunk in its arms. It glared daggers at the soldier as they sighed, “We…didn’t know you were having a funeral- Ow.”

“That wasn’t an apology,” Arbor hissed, pulling her wooden leg back from a kick to Myrel’s shin.

“I…apologize.” Myrel took a knee and continued, “We should not be fighting with Argoth or its people. Let us turn to the true enemy which threatens us all.”

Though Birch easily towered over Myrel, it merely turned and stomped back into the deeper woods, still carrying the fallen.

“‘Toxic Abomination,’ was it? Hello. Please have a seat.”

The lesser Phyrexian looked around the putrid swamp for a chair. Seeing none, it collapsed into the muddy water before its praetor.

“Let’s begin your evaluation.” Sheoldred’s serpentine body coiled slowly around the grunt as she studied the surprisingly mundane clipboard in her hands. “It says here, you waited hundreds of years for Phyrexia’s return, only needing reactivation upon our arrival. Quite some loyalty, that. Also, you were once…renowned for your abnormal strength?”

Toxic Abomination nodded eagerly, bobbing its armless torso instead of a head.

“…Unfortunately, however, this strength is no longer so exceptional.”

Toxic Abomination startled at this statement.

“Yes. I’m afraid such power as yours is no longer even passable. Quite below average, in fact.”

Toxic Abomination began to rise from the muck, only for Sheoldred to make a placating gesture with her upper body.

“Please, no need to get angry. You were inactive for quite some time, now. It’s only natural to react to such news with anger. But a Phyrexian like you should conduct yourself properly.”

Defeated, Toxic Abomination collapsed back into the mud. Sheoldred watched passively as the fight left it.

“Worry not. Unlike the incompleat, we look after our own. I’m sure we could find work of some kind for you, given your service record.”

Toxic Abomination’s body angled hopefully upward. That was, until it heard Sheoldred’s suggestion, read aloud from her clipboard:

“Yes, I believe ‘chump blocker’ would be a perfect lateral position for you! If you’re interested, please speak with my assistant on your way out.”

Toxic Abomination suddenly rose and stomped out of the brackish water. During its egress, it saw a human woman with a glowing red eye standing on the shore.

“Hello. My name is Rona. I heard you might be interested in a-”

Toxic Abomination continued its indignant departure. Behind it, Rona and Sheoldred shared sly smirks.

“Lady Lyra…hello there…”

The hooded archangel knelt down beside the fallen knight, healing magic already surging through her hands. A soft, comforting glow flowed from Lyra, mending the soldier’s wounds.

“Aryel,” Lyra sighed in somber greeting. “Your wounds are not fatal, but they were close. What villain so wounded you, to reduce you to such a state?”

“It was…Evra,” came the strained reply.

“Evra!”

“No, no,” Aryel protested, already sensing Lyra’s shock. “She didn’t attack me. Nothing of the sort. She just…ah…”

“I HAVE IT NOW. THIS TIME FOR SURE.”

Lyra’s puzzled expression settled into one of tired resignation. “I understand. Stay here, while I confer with her.”

Prone, and still mending, Aryel could only spread her arms, a visibly sarcastic gesture as Lyra took flight towards the booming voice.

“AH. A VISITOR. GREETINGS, LADY LYRA.”

“…Evra.” Lyra nodded to an avatar of solid light, who was currently practicing healing magic on a comically undersized practice dummy. Magic, which consisted of Evra smacking the dummy with the flat of her massive hardlight blade. “What, pray tell, are you doing? You’ve wounded Sir Aryel.”

“NO. I TEMPORARILY BORROWED HER VITALITY, WITH THE PROMISE OF RETURNING IT TO HER ONE HUNDREDFOLD.”

“…Why?”

“YOU ARE AWARE I AM THE AVATAR MADE MANIFEST FROM THE NULL MOON?”

“Yes, of course.” Lyra nodded along, already anticipating and dreading where the conversation would go.

“HOWEVER. I BELIEVE MY TRUE TALENTS ARE THOSE OF A HEALER.”

“Chronic gambler, more like,” Lyra muttered under her breath. “Investment banker, perhaps?”

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

“Nothing!” Lyra flinched as she recognized the massive size difference between her and Evra. “Just…carry on. And, return Aryel’s life force to her!”

“RETURN, AND THEN SOME.”

“Wonderful. Fantastic. Thank you.”

With a final shake of her head, Lyra descended back toward Aryel on the ground. Meanwhile, Evra resumed her practice, accompanied by booming grunts of failure and discouragement.

“Thrasher, stop! You’ll ruin those artifacts!”

Just before the hulking orc could hurl the device in his hand with all his might, an elderly human blocked his throw. He growled in anger, slowly lowering the item while his hand trembled with rage.

“Get out of the way, Roger,” Thrasher snarled. “I’ve got work to do!”

“Work! You were about to send that priceless relic over the horizon!”

Thrasher bit back a rumbling laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s throwing something, and someone has to do it, anyway. That makes it work, right?”

“Nobody has to ruin such beautiful things!” Roger put out his hands to stop another attempted throw. “If anything, we should be dissecting the machinery for study!”

“Ah-ha! So you just wanna smash it to bits, too!”

“Deconstruct,” Roger chided Thrasher, “for science!”

“You sure about that, pal? Sounds like you don’t really care about this stuff either.”

“I’m merely thinking of the potential future benefit. Anything we discover from our research would far outweigh any immediate boon the thing itself could give us. I - do - care about these relics.”

“All right then, smart guy. If you care so much about this thingy, then what is it?”

“Ah. Yes. Of course. Well, obviously, it’s a…erm…” Roger donned a pair of oversized spectacles and carefully studied the object. “Oh, so that’s what that…Hmm…”

“I’m waiting,” Thrasher gloated.

“Oh, all right! Perhaps I don’t know what on earth this thing does. But neither do you, I’m sure!”

Thrasher shrugged. “I just don’t care. There’s a difference, you know. Now that that’s settled…”

“No, wait!” But Roger’s panicked cry was too late this time. Thrasher flung the mystery object out of sight. “You fool!”

“Oh, calm down, geezer. It probably wasn’t even worth-”

A massive explosion in the distance sent both parties sprawling to the ground. As they regained their footing, they swapped shocked expressions.

“Didn’t know I was playing with a bomb.”

“Perhaps…it was prudent, after all, for you to dispose of it in such a manner.”

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