While Ellis didn’t quite like their food, the Leonin’s music was the best. Tonight is the celebration of the Harvest Moon, where the night sky is more than bright enough to harvest the fields and hunt. And these Leonin love to dance! Kheve had a little bit of a harder time getting used to the rhythm, Ellis learned the moves in a couple days. They had spent here nearly a whole week longer than they were supposed to, just so they could enjoy tonight’s feast and celebration. And it was absolutely worth it!

(Paraselene: Innistrad) (Art by Ryan Lee)

           Around the bonfire, many Leonin gathered in a series of concentric circles to dance their ritual. Theirs was a ritual of spinning, clapping, stomping, jumping, whooping, all while moving in a constant circle around the flames. The Gruul danced too. But there was a unity to the way that the Leonin did it that was totally different than what Ellis was used to. It was nice to experience something new. Tomorrow night they would take off toward Akros as they had been planning since the night they met. But tonight? They danced!

           Several hours into the celebration, the festivities died down and the celebrants gathered into tight circles of ten or fifteen. A cup of syrupy sweet smelling substance was passed among the circle and each was expected to take a deep drink. Once everyone had their gulp, they would rise to their feet and share a secret with the group. It was a strange ritual. ‘Community building’ they called it. Whatever it was, they had been kind enough to host Kheve and Ellis for the week without asking for anything in return. So why not? Neither one was expecting the substance to be so…liberating.

           When at last Kheve’s turn came he rose to his feet, swaying slightly from his inebriation and said, “My name is Kheve. And I-I’m not sure why I’m here.” The human takes a deep sign and rolls his shoulders. “I was told that The-Theros was the land of heroes.” Kheve stoops to pick up his cup of beer and chugs the rest of it. “But I don’t see any heroes! Do you?” Some of the more inebriated Leonin let out a cheer. “Don’t-don’t get me wrong. I-I wanna be a hero. But I am no hero yet.” Kheve leans back and belches as loudly as he can, to the joy of many of the Leonin present. When the applause ends, Kheve goes on. “I like helping people. Helping people is great. It feels great. But I-I am not good at this whole hero business. It just doesn’t come-come naturally to me. But I wanna be good at it.” Ellis and the Leonin nod and raise their cup to him. Kheve bows and takes a seat. “Your-your turn, buddy.”

           Ellis rises, plants his feet firmly on the ground, throws his head back and shouts, “I came here to fiiiiight!” The Leonin cheer and then let him go on. “Life is short!” Ellis shouts again, relaxing his stance. “So why not have fun? We’re all going to the same place, am I right? We’re all bound for that dark empty blackness that awaits us all.” Many of the Leonin bob their heads in agreement. “So why not? Am I right? Why not? Like…why the heck not? We’re all going there so why not get there on my own terms? Why not have fun along the way?”

           Kheve’s raises his cup and leads the cheer among the Leonin to pass the turn. One by one each Leonin in the circle shares their secret until at last everyone is done. By then, half the Leonin in the camp are asleep and the other half are dragging either themselves or someone else to their bed.

           The pair of Planeswalkers wrap an arm around each other’s shoulder and together they work their way up the hill to their guest tent. Kheve giggles and says, “’I came here to fight.’ I like that.”

           “Hey. Don’t-don’t knock it. I didn’t knock your hero thing. Am I right?” Ellis replies.

           They brush aside the flap to their tent and stumble inside. In their inebriated state, neither realized the candle light from within the tent. But now that they’re inside, they realize they’re not along in here.

           Laying down on the bedroll is a long, slender, human woman. Clad in a long sleeve, short trunked, leather jacket, pants, boots, and fingerless gloves, the long red-haired but half shaved, red-eyed woman stretches casually and says, “So. You two looking for company tonight?”

           Kheve releases his friend, tries his hardest to stand erect, and runs a hand through his Mohawk. “He-hello. My name is Khe-Kheve. What’s yours?”

           She smiles at him but Ellis interrupts before she gets the chance to say anything. “Hey there se-sexy. My name is Ellis. What-what brings you around these parts?”

           The stranger rises up to her feet, almost standing taller than Kheve, and walks towards them. “My name is Taker.”

           “Taker?” Kheve grins stupidly. “You can take me any time.”

           She grins. Her eyes wild. Cruel. “I know…” she whispers. Taker walks up to Kheve, runs her hands down his chest and whispers, “Consider yourself…taken.” Her hands glow a light blue and suddenly Kheve is encased in a thick cocoon of ice, his stupid grin flash frozen on his face.

           “Whoa…” Ellis says, backing away. “Hold on here. That’s not cool. What’s going on?” He furiously rubs his eyes, trying to focus past the sleep deprivation, physical exhaustion, and inebriation.

           “Wrong.” She whispers as wiggles her fingers at me. “It’s very cool.”

           Suddenly, the ground beneath Ellis turns to slick ice and he finds himself sliding downhill faster than his senses can react. He lands flat on his back, his head swimming from vertigo, and tries his hardest to move. But already his mind and body are giving out to the night’s festivities. “No…” He whispers as darkness swirls around him.

           A goblin, well dressed in a fine suit, paints, shoes, button down shirt, and fedora appears in his rapidly fading field of vision. The goblin throws some kind of net over Ellis that immediately conforms and clings tightly to his body.

(Spidersilk Net: Dragons of Tarkir) (Art by Steve Argyle)

           “Well done.” A powerful low male voice speaks from outside of Ellis’ range of vision. “Four down. Two to go…”

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            Kheve arrives to this strange new world where the night sky is alive and gleaming, the hills gentle and green, the air fresh and undisturbed. The last world he had been was beautiful in its own way, but nothing like this. In that world filigree automatons roamed the streets and the world itself shaped around the Aether lines. Compared to Arrangar, the world where Kheve was born, both were paradise. Coming to Theros was a good idea.  

            The young man crouches and runs his runescarred hand against the soft grass. He can feel the thick cord of his braid brush against his leather-armored back in a sudden strong breeze. Kheve stands up and listens to the world around him. The ever present distant war drums of Arrangar and the stinging soot from the burning villages were absent. Theros. Zerriko called Theros the Land of Champions and Heroes.

            A great primal roar resounded across the hills, releasing him from his reverie. Coming up the rise of the nearby hill were a pair of cyclopi, grappled in combat. Kheve notices movement near the bottom of that same hill. Whatever is about to happen is going to be really exiting and Kheve wants in. He heads toward the bottom of the hill, behind of the group of people at the bottom.

            Another roar erupts, but this one is clear, articulated, not at all like the animalistic burst he heard a few seconds ago from the other cyclops. “Come on, stinky! Is that all you’ve got?”

            The second giant gains purchase over the other and topples it to the ground. Without a second’s hesitation, the victorious giant raises a fist and pounds the other one down until it stops moving. The victorious giant raises his bloody fist and shouts to the sky: “Is that the best you can do? Come on! Give me a real challenge! Come down here and fight me yourself!” It then begins to shrink down to human size, disappearing in the shadow of the felled cyclops.

            The group of people at the bottom of the hill charges a net extended between the two in the lead. Slavers! No. Kheve clenches his fist, reaches down to his thigh, and equips his Kothick. His special weapon, a sort of arm blade that extends well up to his elbow and protrudes out in a horn-like dual end from his fist. So long as Kheve can take action, he will make sure no one ever finds themselves in the clutches of slavers. Freedom to live your own life is simply too important to Kheve for him to sit back and do nothing.

            Trying to keep himself out of the slaver’s line of sight, Kheve closes in on them and takes the first by surprise, wrapping an arm around his mouth to keep him silent, then stabs him in the kidney. The planeswalker shushes the dying slaver and lowers him to the ground. This next one was a little more aware than his partner and managed to turn around in time to see Kheve coming.

            Before the second slaver could call for his companion’s attention, Kheve releases a small bolt of lightning from his left hand. The lightning jolt hits the slaver and locks up his throat muscles, keeping him silent and surprised just long enough for Kheve to end him.

(Twin Bolt: Dragons of Tarkir) (Art by Svetlin Velinov)

            Kheve hears a cry from the other side of the crest of the hill,“You think a simple net is going to stop me?”

            Now that he’s closer, sees the face of the young man with the mysterious size alteration magic. The young man has shaggy brown hair, red painted war stripes across his face, and a pair of feathers over his left ear. Around the stranger’s neck is a heavy shawl adorned with the lower jaw of some great canid beast and bears the sigil of a burning campfire surrounded by the branches of a great tree. The stranger grows back up to the size he was at when he faced the cyclops and laughs. “You think you stand a chance against me, Ellis of the Skarrgahan? Think again!”

            All four remaining slavers laugh as they surround Ellis. “You are not special, stranger,” one of the slavers shouts. “We capture cyclopi for the Arena Manager all the time!” Using long bladed poles the slavers begin to prod Ellis’ legs, reaching for the back of the knee, between the toes, the ankles, and the sole of the foot. The well-coordinated, well practiced, attack succeeds, another slaver shouts. Kheve sees his opportunity and charges in. 

            “Look out behind you!” A slaver calls out to the one nearest Kheve.

            The slaver turns around, bladed pole swinging. But Kheve doesn’t slow his stride, bats aside the pole, and closes in. Before the slaver manages to pull out a sword, Kheve fires a quick bolt of lightning at the slaver’s shoulder and hip, paralyzing his right arm and left leg. Unable to move or draw weapon, Kheve closes in and guts the slaver open.

            Kheve turns to the next slaver who is pouring some kind of liquid onto a rag tied to the butt end of his pole. The giant man, Elis, suddenly shrinks down to normal size. Then continues shrinking! Kheve loses sight of Elis quickly and focuses back on the battle. There are three enemies. Each about ten feet away, each wielding a six foot pole. Odds aren’t looking good.

            “Surprise!”

            From beneath the slaver to Kheves’ left appears Ellis, grows back up to his normal size, delivering a powerful uppercut to the slaver’s jaw. The slaver collapses onto his back and lies still. “Alright! Who’s next?” Ellis shouts, a wild look of excitement in his eye. Kheve grins. Odds look much better now.

            A burst of green light explodes from Ellis and he takes a mighty leap, closing the ten-foot distance to the next slaver in a single bound. Ellis lands beside the shocked slaver and backhands him, sending the slaver tumbling down the hill.

(Giant Growth) (Art by Matt Cavotta)

            Kheve, not wanting to be shown up, charges at the remaining slaver who drops his bladed pole and draws a sword. The slaver swings his sword at Kheve as the distance closes. Kheve catches the sword in the space between the blades of his Kothic and twists his wrist sharply, disarming him. To Kheve’s surprise, the slaver seemed to have expected to have been disarmed and had his other hand ready with a dagger.

            The slaver swings the blade at Kheve’s chest. A small burst of lightning to the slaver’s arm locks the muscles up, freezing the slaver’s attack in place mere centimeters away from Kheve’s heart. Another two bolts of lightning hit the slaver’s legs and he drops to his knees. With a satisfied grin Kheve beheads his enemy.

            Ellis and Kheve turn to one another and smile. Kheve speaks first. “I see the emblem of the Gruul Clans on your shawl.”

            “You are a planeswalker?” Ellis asks, surprised. “You’ve been to Ravnica?”

            “No. But Ravnica is a well-known place.”

            “Awesome! I’m Ellis. But, I guess you already know that. What’s your name?”

            Kheve sets his Kothic back into its holster at his hip, presses his left fist against his right palm, and gives Ellis a small bow. “I am Kheve. Have you, by chance, been sent here by Zerriko?”

            “Hello Kheve.” Ellis says, extending an arm in greetings. Kheve takes it and they take a warrior’s embrace. “I think we are going to make good friends, Kheve.” Ellis steps back and continues speaking. “And to answer your question, yes. Zerriko did say he had found for me a special challenge.” Ellis locks eyes with Kheve, a passion, an excitement, behind them burns as he says, “I am here to challenge a god. I’ve fought gods before. And I’ve won. But those were nothing like the ones here in Theros.”

(Heroe’s Reunion: Return to Ravnica) (Art by Howard Lyon)

            Kheve nods. “Zerriko told me that Theros is The Land of Heroes and Champions. A world where anyone can find themselves and their meaning if they only choose to take possession of their life and act.”

            Ellis turns away from Kheve and motions for him to follow. “Come on. A few weeks ago I made friends with a small leonin village a little further that way.” Kheve follows and Ellis adds. “We all came here for our own reasons. And it looks like Zerriko knew exactly what to say to bring us together. So long as I have myself a good challenge and you find out…whatever it is you’re looking for, the why and how Zerriko convinced his little team to Theros doesn’t really matter, right?”

            “I guess so.” Kheve says pensively.

            After a moment of silent walking Ellis asks, “You sure don’t hold back from killing people, do you?”

            “In the world in which I was born, I did not have the luxury of sparing my enemies.” Kheve explains defensively. Then he adds with a rough growl, “Is that going to be a problem?”

            “With me? No, no.” Ellis says waving his hand dismissively. “I was just curious. I honestly don’t care. You defeated them, What you do with your vanquished enemies is your business.”

            “You are right, Ellis.” Kheve says with a smile. “ I think we are going to get along well.”

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