#ixalan

“Henri, you traitor!”

The well-dressed, well-armed pirate scoffed at his former captain. “Sorry, Admiral Brass. But it’s nothing personal. I’ve just found someone who, shall we say, aligns better with my interests.”

“Everyone else has left the city to us!” Beckett Brass bellowed. “We are sitting on riches beyond our wildest imagination. Who could possibly be offering you more money?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I meant my interests, as a poet!”

“…A poet,” Brass echoed, incredulous.

“Yeah! There’s a woman from the Sun Empire who’s some kind of…warrior poet? I’m going to join her.”

Brass’s hand impacted against her face with an audible slap. “You mean Huatli.”

“And what of it? She’s a fighter, just like me. And she’s got an artistry to match my own!”

“But you’re a terrible poet.”

“You take that back!” Henri spat. “I had that one the other day. ‘A bolt to the eye, a blade to the neck. That’s the way to clear the deck!’ I think that was my best work yet!”

“…It was a single rhyme.”

“Sometimes less is more!”

“Indeed. Now leave him alone, Admiral.”

The third voice earned an annoyed eye roll from Brass. She turned to see a Sun Empire woman standing off to the side. Henri waved, and ran to her.

“Huatli!” The pirate greeted his supposed mortal enemy with surprising joviality. “Need my assistance, I take it?”

The planeswalker nodded. “You are indeed needed for battle, at my side. And don’t let your former friend faze you. The cause of artistry is a just one. And one that crosses faction lines at that.”

Brass blew a raspberry at the notion. Huatli merely smirked at the dismissal and continued speaking.

“And, Henri? I like your poems.”

The swashbuckler grinned over his shoulder at his former captain.

“No accounting for taste, I suppose,” Brass grumbled.

“Commander Pixan?”

A Sun Empire soldier with a grand crested headpiece turned from the carnage his dinosaur was wreaking on the Brazen Coalition. Behind him stood a loyal lieutenant, waiting beside a dinosaur of their own.

“What is it, Mahuiz?”

“Well…it looks like the most dangerous part of this skirmish has passed.”

“Yes, yes.” Pixan turned his back to Mahuiz once more and waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. “You and your companion can head back to camp.”

“No, not that…The opposite, really.”

“What?”

“Well, since all that’s left are a few lingering pirates, I wanted to ask…” Mahuiz clasped their hands behind their back. “Could Dreadmaw perhaps get a meal here as well?”

Pixan froze. Then, he turned on one heel, with agonizing slowness. “You are our reserve forces. In case the first wave is ineffective.”

“…Okay. Couple of things. First: you just told me I could go.”

“A battlefield is a fluid situation!”

“Fine. Sure. But second, just…just look. Do you really think your giant lizard truly needs mine in reserve?”

Pixan looked back. Sure enough, the first dinosaur alone was proving to be more than a match for the stragglers.

“Sir?”

“Stay back. Or get out of here. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir…” Mahuiz pet their companion, who seemed as glum as they were. They muttered under their breath, “I know, I know. We’ll find you something…somewhere…eventually…maybe.”

“So, now that the Immortal Sun is gone, we should be able to get out of here. Right, Jace?”

The blue-clad planeswalker closed his eyes and focused. As he did, a small golden ring materialized above his head, then promptly shattered. Jace opened his eyes once more and turned to face Vraska with a smile.

“I believe so,” he chimed to the gorgon pirate.

“Wait. Then what was that golden magic?”

“Ah. That would be the remnants of the Immortal Sun’s…let’s call it a travel ban. It’s still present - for all his faults, Azor made some strong magic. But it should now be too weak to stop a planeswalker.”

Vraska skeptically folded her arms. “Even a new one? I worry for that girl…Huatli, I want to say?”

“Yes. That was just me testing the waters, and the spell still couldn’t stop me. She should be more than capable of leaving. As should…” Jace breathed a tired sigh.

“Angrath,” Vraska finished.

“He seemed like he just wanted to get home. But how many more living, breathing obstacles will he encounter before he finds them?”

Vraska blew a raspberry. “He’ll be fine. He’s a man on a mission, and the mission isn’t even violence, specifically. And besides, like your Gatewatch hasn’t had collateral damage before. Zendikar, Innistrad, Kaladesh?”

“Those casualties were because of Eldrazi titans…in the first two situations, anyway, and on a much larger scale. Not really comparable.”

“Fine. Forget it. Back to business. Does anyone need to worry about the lingering magic.”

“No. However, I am thinking of repurposing it to disallow other kinds of magic.”

This piqued Vraska’s interest. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a new spell going around…Well, old spell regaining popularity- Anyway! It’s a spell smuggled through a ring. Even those who aren’t mages can use it. It’s frustrating.”

“And your solution is to…completely ban it,” Vraska deadpanned.

“Not entirely! Just…locally. Temporarily. And with weak magic!”

Sensing no end to this argument, Vraska settled for wordlessly rolling her eyes.

“…Oh, no, yes, of course! I surrender, Itotia.”

With a final ceremonial flourish, the Sun Empire soldier threw his blade down onto the ground before the River Herald that had bested him. He raised his hands in surrender, though all the while he wore an amused smirk, much to the other warrior’s chagrin.

“What is it, Mahuiz!” hissed the merfolk, their frills fully spread in defensive anger.

“N-Nothing…” lied the soldier, who was now nearly doubled over to suppress his laughter.

“No, it’s definitely something. Out with it, then!”

“Okay, okay…With the frills and all, you…you…”

“What?”

“You look like one of our deathspitters.”

An awkward silence descended over the jungle clearing. Itotia’s brightly hued frills immediately retracted, and a similar color spread to their cheeks in the form of an embarrassed blush. “I certainly do not look like one of your pets,” they protested quietly.

“Hey!” Mahuiz snapped quickly in response. “They aren’t just our pets! And besides, I was paying you a compliment.”

“By…likening me to a lizard.”

Still incensed, Mahuiz turned up his nose at Itotia. “You may take or leave my words as you see fit. But may none so besmirch our companions!”

Itotia briefly looked around, then asked, “Is there one here with us?”

“Actually, yes!”

“Where in- AH!” Itotia scrambled back, narrowly dodging a spray of poison spit from a section of tree line they had just scanned. A limber dinosaur leapt into view, drawing close to and hissing at the merfolk. Its own frills extended, earning a laugh from Mahuiz.

“See? You two are a matching pair-”

“No, we’re not!”

To Mahuiz’s surprise, both Itotia and the deathspitter turned to take offense and glare at him. Itotia spread their frills, and indeed looked somewhat similar to the dinosaur’s. But Mahuiz wisely decided it was unwise to remark on this, and remained silent.

“We should be checking the main rivers instead, Itotia! That will lead us to the Sunken Ruin!”

The lead scout looked up from their map, specifically to roll their eyes at the shaman swimming behind them in the small tributary. “Speaker Kumena. You are our leader with regards to magical and spiritual matters. However, I politely request you leave the navigation to me.”

“And why is that!” Kumena gestured angrily, first to the dense jungle around the group, then to the mundane sight of the river both up and downstream. “We have been searching for days and found nothing! Is this such an enormous island that finding this place is beyond you?”

Itotia’s hands clenched tight around the map, threatening to tear the enchanted paper. “If it were merely an issue of covering ground, then yes, we would have found it by now. But I have reason to believe there is some sort of spell at play, preventing its discovery.”

“And how did you reach that brilliant - and completely arbitrary - conclusion?”

“Because otherwise, surely the other factions would have found it by now!”

Finally, this seemed to stymie Kumena for a time. The shaman fell silent, earning a relieved sigh from Itotia.

“About time,” they grumbled, before casting a dowsing spell. A glowing arrow materialized before them, pointing down a branching stream to what appeared to be a dead end of a small runoff pond.

“Speaker Kumena, I think this is it.”

“About time. Go on, then.”

Itotia hesitated, then backstroked behind the shaman. “Would you care to do the honors, Speaker? Any magic should do, even a cantrip.”

“Fine. If you’re so nervous, I’ll take point.” Kumena waved his hand at the pond. Sparks flew from his fingertips. The magic coaxed a blue barrier into existence and, like a curtain, pulled it back, revealing the object of the merfolks’ search.

“Azcanta!” Kumena grinned over his shoulder. “I told you we’d find it here!”

“No, you-” Itotia stopped themself. “Lead the way, sir,” they growled, teeth gritted all the while.

“What’s going on here!”

Captain Lannery Storm burst onto the deck, to the sounds of shouting, and crackling fire. One of the deckhands pointed over the railing, to another ship in the fleet burning across the way.

“Captain Storm! It’s the Dagger. Something set it ablaze!”

“Did anyone see what!”

A goblin dangled into view upside-down from the rigging overhead and gave Storm a salute, albeit inverted from her perspective. “Aye, cap’n. Sun Empire…sunbird. Flew right over the deck before shooting towards the Dagger.”

“Over our deck?” Storm rolled her eyes before grabbing into the ropes herself. “Marvelous. Everyone, brace!”

Before any of the crew could react, a burning cannonball shot from the Dagger and crashed into the hull of Storm’s ship.

“What was that!” cried the goblin deckhand, as the force of the impact sent her falling to the floor.

“Broadside,” Storm sighed. “Chances are, no one was looking at the sunbird. So they think we shot them. Another one incoming!”

This time, the crew was able to hold onto various parts of the ship before the second volley landed. Though the boat rocked violently back and forth, no one was thrown to the floor like before.

“All right, sound off. Who’s not dead?”

A groggy chorus of affirmatives rose from the deck. Storm nodded at her reeling crewmates before breathing a deep sigh.

“I understand why they’re doing what they’re doing - we’re not exactly the most…upstanding sort. But we’re trying to move past all that!” Storm seemed to speak more to herself than anyone else, as she moved to take the wheel from a panicking orc. “The score of a lifetime is right here! And you think we’re petty enough to broadside you unprovoked?”

Unfortunately, Storm’s question seemed to receive an answer, as a third shot struck her ship. And another sigh rose from the weary captain.

“I suppose so. Man the cannons!”

As the crew scrambled to their stations, Storm looked up and saw the sunbird, flying back to shore.

“I never liked birds, anyway.”

“Captain Fein! Do I stop her, or save the equipment?”

“Both! No, wait, just the-”

Before the vampiric zealot could regret his wording, there came a series of splashes from the sea below the ship. A Brazen Coalition infiltrator had just thrown the last of the vampires’ navigation equipment overboard, partly thanks to the closest vampire’s indecision, and Mavren Fein’s muddled command.

“Do…Do we kill her now, sir?” asked the undead deckhand.

“Well…” Mavren drummed his claws against his scabbard, in pristine condition and clearly a stranger to combat. He then glanced to the boarder, who eagerly hefted a cutlass in one hand and a flintlock in the other. “No. The damage is done. And, one human’s worth of blood is barely a drop in our reserves.”

“But sir-”

“That’s an order.”

Mavren’s underling begrudgingly lowered his own weapon, allowing the pirate to hop overboard. Curious, he looked over the railing, and saw a small dinghy push away from the ship. “So that’s how she got away. Orders, sir?”

“Take stock of whatever charts, tools, or spyglasses she left untouched.”

One quick peek into the cabin revealed a barren room. “I think she took everything, sir.”

Mavren’s claws balled into fists. “As expected…”

“Sir…what do we tell the others? Without those tools, we’re-”

“Silence! I am thinking.” Mavren gripped the railing with enough force to crack the wood. “Gather the men. I have an announcement for them.”

“Sir?” The deckhand blanched.

“In the rapture of my Blood Fast…I decided to destroy the navigator’s tools.”

“Sir!”

“I will steer the ship to shore by faith alone.”

“Sir-”

“You already said that!” snapped the priest.

“Sorry…But, surely the others won’t believe that?”

Mavren gave the younger vampire a knowing look. In return, he earned a resigned expression from his subordinate.

“I’ll spread the word.”

“Thank you,” Mavren sighed in relief.

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