#ixalan posting

"I want every last member of the clergy to be out here! There will be no cowering this night! We face this bastard head-on!" Theodors roared. His voice was being amplified through some carefully woven magics, and his orders were being dispersed accordingly. His words were being echoed by practically all of the conclave -- including Macario, whom he would be working alongside.

"To every condemner, a glorifier! To every inquisitor, a cleric! Pair each with as many paladins as we can!" he continued. The Legion were handling their own scurrying of forces as night fell.

All of the humans were being sheltered within the cathedrals closest to the center of the city. Gold-armored paladins formed protective rings around them, a handful of clergy among them. Some human guard were with them too, but the vast majority of the humans who were more martially trained were elsewhere.

The walls were alive with activity. Ballistae were being loaded for the larger demons sure to appear, almost every single defender was holding at least a crossbow or a polearm, everyone was getting as prepared as they could. In anticipation for the coming of the Betrayer, the inquisitors and condemners had received more specialized training on how to quickly subdue and neutralize anyone who may be succumbing to madness. It was techniques being pioneered by Lazaro that would help them see the light of day, if all went well.

If. What an ugly word.

Thirty years.

Cecurro Ayere stood in front of the Omenpath to Torrezon that Vasro had summoned for them, leaning heavily on the nanotech cane that Koda had made for him along with his new prosthetic leg, arm, and fangs. He was about to go home for the first time in thirty years.

He’d face consequences for his frenzy before his sparking. He’d have to face his grandfather. But he would get to see his mother, his stepfather, and his half-sisters again. He would probably have to deal with the fact that his best friend, ruthless as she was, was now working for the Betrayer. He would finally get to tap back into the mana of the land he missed.

He barely heard Vasro and Koda speaking to Lazaro and Arturo. Something about his tremorsense and letting him adapt to the earth again. Not to touch him until he was ready. Which was fair – Kamigawa alone overwhelmed him, stepping back home for the first time would probably hurt.

It would open up well outside of Alta Torrezon, to give Cecurro time to adapt before they got into the city. Arturo and Lazaro went through first. After a moment to steel his nerves, Cecurro stepped into the Omenpath after them.

The first thing that greeted him was the night sky.

The first step onto Torrezone soil dropped him to his knees.

His hands hit the ground to keep himself from falling face-first into the dirt.

Something large. Eight wings, many touching the ground. Deep in a cavern. The Betrayer. Here. In Cecurro’s home.

Emrakul in his mind, louder than ever before. Even facing down Hanweir had never made her song pound through his mind like a Legion charger on a rampage. She echoed, calling to him. Calling for him to give into the madness.

Combat. Fighting everywhere, many against foes that couldn’t be seen in tremorsense. He couldn’t tell who was who, but he could tell when each hit the ground and stopped moving. Most of it was far off, but Alta Torrezon’s defenders were at the wall.

His heart pounding in his chest, no longer still as it should be. His breathing heavy, something that he had trained himself out of years ago. His head ached from the echoing song assaulting his mind.

The collective fury of the mountains’ elementals. They were furious about the strongholds, about the Legion, about the demons. They knew that Cecurro could feel them. He pushed them away for a moment, keeping them separate from the echoing of Emrakul’s song.

The ground under his hands, flesh and metal. The ground that eased up against him, cushioning him like it had when he was young and when he escaped. He dug his fingers down into it.

The active battlefield was, ultimately, a small portion of Amonkhet’s desert. It was to the west of the Kasmut River. The magic of the local nagas had purified part of the river despite the towering structures of Pronoia, which was half-settlement and half-foothold.

Sisters soared through the sky catching the suns’ light only to clash in battle with a flying ship known to others as the Silverwing, manned by five individuals and some cleaning robots of great bravery. The ship was aided by clouds of locusts who chewed their way through any Sisters between them and where they wanted to go, yet the locusts fell through either illness or magic in greater numbers than the Sisters.

On the ground, Imoti pulled her purifying magic from the river and turn it against the Pestoxy and had created a protective aura around the river for fleeing individuals to fall back to. Many of the nagas had already evacuated due to the citadel’s sheer scale. The ones that remained were helping Imoti hold the line. Alongside them were other extraplanar helpers, including a large cicada and the human who was calling more locusts to bolster the defense. It was unclear to both sides how long this line could hold.

Menea the Phármakon and High Marshal Celino Guitirre stepped out of the Omenpath with their respective weapons at the ready. One simply did not need to breathe and would not be harmed by the disease. The other was both the Champion of Pharika and the embodiment of Her teachings. And right now, those teachings had one simple order: find and kill the Pestoxy member known as Thermophagy.

The morning sun hung low in the sky, illuminating the abandoned town of Gorgia on the conquered island of Skathos.

Sophrosyne was perched upon a chair near the Omenpath. It had been password-locked, and while her divinely-granted power allowed the hydra to push a neck and head through, she did not order it to do so again. There was no sense in launching her attack through there. Not until she got confirmation that Kalleis – poor, sweet, misguided Kalleis – was close on that side. Even with all of her griffins, who flew around the island claimed in Heliod’s name, she did not want to charge through yet.

Her hydra snarled. She turned towards the east, towards the blessed rising sun. Her eyes scanned the waters, until-

There.

An Ixalec ship, not unlike the one she had taken Kalleis from, was coming towards Skathos. A ship bearing the flag of Kalleis’s misguided fleet.

Sophrosyne smiled. It reall had been only a matter of time before Kalleis returned to her. That made this all easier.

Captain Lannery Storm stood on the deck of her ship as they drew close to Skathos. She had a cutlass on each hip, and the small metal box in her pocket felt alarmingly heavy. One click and it would make all of the magic in a ten-foot circle completely stop. The Odithian gods knew what they were doing when it came to this device.

Her half-brother, Captain Marciano Guerra, stood at her left side with his hammer. On her right side was none other than Huehue, the offensive little gnome. Somewhere behind her, Menea was telling Malkonia how to make a triage center, Aoidi was getting a weapon, Mavren was...honestly who knows what the hell Mavren was doing, and Storm’s crew were preparing cannons and other weapons. Once the first shot was done, the crew would have to focus on the griffins. But that was just fine.

“Ready, Lannery?” Marciano asked, hefting up his hammer.

She had learned much about bringing about a reckoning from her time guarded by Tony Fangando. So she offered her brother a grin. “Ready, Marci.” She drew both of her swords and pointed one towards the hydra approaching the ship. “FIRE!” she shouted.

"Time for the divide-and-conquer route," Koda muttered. His hands were settled on the hilts of two of his daggers, his stamina-draining one and the one he received from a trickery god. He reminded himself of their plan. Koda, Haruko, Theodors, and Kutsurengo would go after Arkuan the bounty hunter. Lily and Vasro would go after Flair the scientist. And Arturo, Lazaro, Swift, and Ferlan would go after the Honorable Judge herself. Koda took a deep breath. "Ferlan, stick close to Lazaro."

"So you've already said, boss," Ferlan reminded him, her own daggers at the ready.

Lily snapped her fingers, using a little magic as she did so. "I'm ready. Vasro, the moment we get an opening, you and I are splitting off."

DENIZENS OF THE PLANES, HAS THIS EVER HAPPENED TO YOU?

She had practice going unnoticed.

Her shoulder ached in the rain, it always did. She could feel the storm coming, a dull ache in the hours before the first drops would fall. The price of the gift given to her by her lord.

The woman walked towards the building the legion had commandeered, stepping into an alley nearby. She gave the immediate area a look. The upcoming holiday distracted the legion. She didn't anticipate anyone being nearby. Good fortune, for her and them.

She moved her cloak, stretching her arms experimentally, before leaping up easily to the second story and opening a window to slip inside. Taking a moment to close the window behind her, she made her way towards the main offices.

Her eyes scanned the desks, looking at correspondences. Useless drivel, like most legionary communications. She took the time to note the important details; positions of ships, rebuilding efforts after certain raids, and their theories on where “The Betrayer’s” forces were. She tucked a few of the letters into her cloak, before stepping to the desk she had been looking for.

A map. Several maps, all annotated. Legion positions, their numbers, the number of church support in the region. The amount of people they needed to protect.

The perfect tool for planning. She stowed these safely in her cloak as well. Walking over to one of the candles, she pulled out her firestarter to begin lighting it. The small flame fizzled, the damp of the day making the process difficult.

“Who’s there?” A voice called out from the hallway.

She froze. Had someone seen her come in? What took them so long to arrive if that were the case?

She looked towards the doorway and cursed. From the window to the desk was a trail of muddy footprints, clear as day. She hadn't considered it to cause an issue, since the entire place would be rubble by the time anyone could have noticed.

A stupid mistake, but one that could easily be rectified.

The door opened and the guard peered in. He didn't even get a chance to scream. Claws flashed, slashing his throat, panicked eyes looking up as he fell.

The demon didn't even let him hit the floor. She caught him, lowering him to the ground gently. No point in risking other guards investigating. She doubted any of his friends would hear the gurgling croaks of his death rattle.

Stepping over to the lantern the guard had been holding, she picked it up, smiled, and set it on the table next to the man. Then she simply tipped it over onto the papers on that desk. Her smile widened as the flames hit the oil of the lantern, burning hotter and faster.

No one noticed a young woman in a cloak leaving the rainy town. People came and went every day.