#thunder junction

SNAKE HORSE!

SNORSE!

finished the lore for thunder junction in magic the gathering and am in tears!

“‘Finest in the Multiverse,’ Peony? We’ll see about that.”

The traveling merchant waved in greeting at the white-clad official fast approaching her stall. “Mornin, Kieran! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“A surprise inspection. Show me your wares.”

“Not a problem!” Using the leg of her scale as a baton, Peony pointed to the various goods lining each section of her cart. “What you see is what you got. Anything in particular catch your eye?”

Kieran studied the setup for another few moments before answering, “No - which is good for you. Your wares and structure are all in order. You’re clear to continued peddling…all this junk-”

“I don’t rightly appreciate you callin it that, Inspector.”

Kieran startled at being called his formal title. Peony’s statement was immediate, terse, and formal. The warmth had drained from her tone, replaced by something far more stern.

“It ain’t junk.”

“I apologize, Peony. I meant no offense. These curios just aren’t my particular-”

“They ain’t just curios neither!”

Kieran arched a skeptical eyebrow. “All right, then. But still, who living around here would ever want anything like this?”

“Folks who want a taste of home! There are people here, from Amonkhet, and from Fiora, and from all over the place! Don’t you think they get homesick too, like me or you? It ain’t just lawmen and bank robbers here. People live here! Not a lot, but people still!”

“Who? A bunch of prospectors and-”

A crash came from up the street. A mob marched into view, hauling with them a bandit bound in thick rope.

“Ah. A bloodthirsty mob.”

“‘Bloodthirsty,’ Kieran? We’ll see about that.”

The mob quieted as they drew near. They deposited the outlaw at Kieran’s feet, as one of their number stepped forward.

“Caught him stealin from the gunsmith. Do what you want with him, just so long as it’s far from here. We’re goin home.”

The group dispersed without fanfare, leaving Peony giving Kieran a sly smirk.

“See? No blood. Just folks who’re willin to look out for each other.”

—

Hello! It's my birthday! On Twitter you're allowed to beg for retweets as a birthday present, so perhaps some folks could spare a reblog for me as compensation for the fact I am so very old?