MTG Salvation

Othniel Carthalion was tidying up his robust study and trophy room of mementos when his young nephew Avram arrived.

“Hello, Uncle Othniel,” greeted Avram.

“Ah, good to see you my boy,” said Othniel, adjusting his spectacles. “So, you’ve finally decided to see my personal study. Well, what do you think?”

To the young Avram Carthalion, his Uncle Othniel’s room contained items far beyond what he even dreams. He saw exotic artifacts on display and armor designs mounted on the wall that he had never knew possible.

“Where did you get those?” Avram asked, referring to the exotic looking helmet and sword set.

“That would be from the plane of Kamigawa,” Othniel explained. “Kamigawa’s a very unique place with a culture that I’ve never seen before. Instead of knights, there were ronin, an elite warrior class that followed an honor code known as Bushido. They weren’t just mindless warriors like the Keldons, either, mind you, but scholars, artists, and poets as well.”

“Where else have you visited?” Avram asked.

“Oh, let’s see now,” Othniel said, opening up a large map on his desk to reveal the numerous planes. Although there were several planes marked, only the ones he visited were annotated with a small red seal of the Carthalion family. “Kamigawa, of course… Alara… Ravnica…and a few others.”

“How were you able to slip in and out like that?”

“The power of a planeswalker enables one to traverse the multiverse as needed,” explained Othniel, readjusting his spectacles. “Although I’m a bit too old to be exploring now. The spells I used to blend into the local surroundings and learn local dialects were really quite simple. Usually, I appeared as a traveling merchant, so no one really bothered me. Perhaps someday you’ll learn those spells as well.”

“And that?” Avram asked, alluding to a piece of black metal kept in a magical case encapsulated in what were undoubtedly numerous enchantments.

“This, oh yes, I found this when I was in Oranos,” said Othniel proudly.

“Oranos? I never heard you or father talking about Oranos before,” said Avram.

“Well, I only visited there a few times,” conceded Othniel. “It’s a very remote plane and required tremendous power to get there and return.”

“What’s it like there?”

“A lot smaller than Dominaria, but a bit bigger than Ulgrotha, if that makes any sense,” started Othniel. “Oranos’ land was very much filled with primal energy; I was able to tap into the mana to gain more than enough magic to return home. The people I met seemed friendly enough. One kingdom was called Niadhraon, if I remember right, and it was protected by knights; sort of like Bant but without the angels. The other country was called Omnia Res, and it had all sorts of different races: dwarves and centaurs that lived with the humans. The centaurs were far more numerous and civilized than the ones here on Dominaria; a large number of them serve in their elite cavalry as lancers. In full armor, no less.”

Avram Carthalion was a bit surprised, as the centaurs he encountered before tended to be wild hunters who preferred to be left alone.

“Were there elves on Oranos, Uncle?”

“Why yes, there were,” recalled Othniel. “Far more sophisticated that those wild, barbaric elves you see in Llanowar. Their land was called Aedh Caelinn, if I remember right, and it seemed to be bathed in a soft yet protective light from magical trees that had leaves of silver or gold. The Sidhcaire, they called themselves, had two beautiful cities. Unlike the other races there, though, they weren’t nearly as numerous.”

“What’s so special about this metal shard? Is it enchanted?”

“Oh yes, very much so,” added Othniel. “Which is why I have so many enchantments on it. That, my boy, is a shard from the sword Adrolann wielded by a knight I met on Oranos named Peritor Vedh-Donas. There was an elven princess as well…what was her name again? Ah, I remember now. Elspeth. He was with an elf named Elspeth d’Aidmheil.”

“When I arrived to Oranos, it was shortly before a large battle, so I assumed the guise of a human healer. Peritor and Elspeth seemed friendly when I met them. They were leading a group of knights and elven warriors to battle and I noticed Peritor’s sword blade was black. When I asked around, I learned that Peritor’s sword blade turned black after he somehow took control of a portion of a storm demon’s essence that had possessed Elspeth. The two were now spiritually linked it seemed, as it was a combination of Peritor’s will and Elspeth’s magical grace that kept the demon possessing them suppressed,” continued Othniel. “In battle, however, there were rare occasions where one would lose control and go berserk, not capable of telling friend from foe. Nevertheless, Peritor and Elspeth commanded great loyalty and fought many battles against much more powerful opponents. In particular, a great battle lord named Sovann Ruathar who also knew magic. As a planeswalker, I sensed that his power level exceeded mine.”

“The knights of Niadhraon and elven warriors of Aedh Caelinn battled Sovann Ruathar’s army. Many fell on both sides as bodies lay strewn about the field. Peritor and Elspeth became separated amidst the fog of war. At some point in the battle Elspeth d’Aidmheil found Sovann Ruathar and locked her eyes upon him. The two battled fiercely. You should have seen it, my boy, they fought like dueling planeswalkers. Elspeth hurled javelins of light at Sovann, who deflected them with a magical shield and attacked with a great warhammer, shaking the very ground on impact. Even at a distance, I could see the pure hate in each other’s eyes. Sovann eventually gained the upper hand until Peritor entered the fray and attacked, cleaving Sovann’s right arm off with a deadly stroke. But Sovann would not be felled so easily, and launched a crimson lightning bolt at Peritor that blasted him back and shattered his sword Adrolann. Elspeth attacked again, only to be grabbed and lifted off the ground by Sovann’s left arm as he began to slowly choke the life out of her.“

“What happened next?”

“Well, Peritor still had Adrolann’s hilt and a portion of the blade remained. He rammed into Sovann from behind and impaled him with the remnants of Adrolann. Sovann let out a massive scream as his hair turned white before dropping to his knees. Elspeth then broke free of Sovann’s grip, picked up her sword and lopped off Sovann’s head with one stroke her blade, fused with magical light.”

“And then?”

“Well, they both nearly collapsed from exhaustion and I ran to their aid. Sovann’s army was beaten and fleeing for their lives. I and the other healers I met tended to the wounded. The Sidhcaire warriors recovered what they could of Adrolann’s remnants for safekeeping also. Apparently, the shards still contained a portion of the trapped storm demon’s power.”

“I tended to Peritor and Elspeth’s injuries and let them rest near a small grove of trees. Elspeth briefly awoke, noticing Peritor nearby and slowly moved towards him, resting herself upon his chest before drifting off to sleep as Peritor gently put his arm around her. All seemed peaceful until Elspeth began snoring so loudly that she woke Peritor.”

“Elspeth…you’re snoring…’” said Peritor sternly.

Elspeth, with her eyes still shut, smacked her lips briefly and replied, “Hmm, so I am…’” before going back to sleep, snoring even louder than before.

“What did Peritor do?”

“What could he do?” said Othniel with a laugh. “He could barely walk! He shrugged at me before I left to tend to other wounded men and stared at the trees above him, counting leaves before finally falling asleep.”

“I eventually returned back to Dominaria, but little did I know, a small piece of Adrolann’s fragments had snagged on my robe. I felt a strange burning and when I found the metal shard, I put it in here under several protective enchantments to make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“And this coin?” noted Avram, seeing bronze coin mounted on a display near the metal shard.

“Oh, yes, I remember that! That was from my second journey to Oranos. I happened to encounter Peritor and Elspeth again under more pleasant circumstances. It was during a spring festival in Niadhraon, and I was in the guise of a vendor selling roasted chicken kabobs and fruit. Nearby was another vendor offering those interested to win, or lose, their money through games of chance. Apparently, Peritor had quite the fondness for such games and was notoriously lucky at times. I saw Peritor and Elspeth nearby as he relished the opportunity to play.”

“Don’t even think about rubbing my tummy for luck, Squire Peritor,” warned Elspeth coldly, placing her hands on her hips.

“Peritor said nothing and smiled, sauntering by the tables as to which game to try his luck. By contrast, Elspeth was quite hungry, as I could’ve sworn I heard her stomach grumble from where I was. At any case, the lovely Sidhcaire princess had lost patience and snatched up Peritor’s money purse and emptied its contents onto a game table involving dice. Peritor was speechless, as were the others around him, when Elspeth unexpectedly undressed herself before them,” continued Othniel. “They were all quite taken by the beauty before them.”

“If you must know about luck, Peritor, the Sidhcaire are luckiest when we are naked before nature,” stated Elspeth before casting the dice. “There, I’ve won. Collect your money, Peritor.”
Still speechless and stunned, the vendor handed Peritor double his money as he retrieved the bet Elspeth initially placed. Elspeth then retrieved her clothes and quickly put them back while walking out with Peritor to my food stand, where they ordered and a puzzled Peritor paid for her meal.”

“What exactly did you roll, anyway?” asked Peritor.

Elspeth shrugged with a furtive smile.

“How should I know? It wasn’t my job to watch the table.”

“I thought you said the Sidhcaire were civilized!” interrupted Avram. “She stripped naked in front of them!”

“Yes, quite a clever ruse, wasn’t it?” commented Othniel, momentarily recalling the mental image. “She was…very lovely.”

“Are the female elves of Llanowar comparable, Uncle Othniel?” asked Avram.

“Hardly,” answered Othniel.

“Why? What’s wrong with them?” Avram said.

“Well, for one thing, they’re not feminine enough to warrant a male’s affections,” replied Othniel. “I’ll explain a bit more when you’re older.”

With that, Othniel and Avram Carthalion left the study room for the outer courtyard.

I had the opportunity to visit the plane of Oranos a couple more times, although apparently in my next visit, some considerable time had passed since my first encounter with Elspeth and Peritor. For one thing, they were now married, and had four children: two girls and two boys, although I do not know their order of birth. What I also learned was that the overwhelming majority of Sidhcaire Elves of Aedh Caelinn had fair blonde hair. Apparently, the Sidhcaire race was created through the primal elements of light and water by an omnipotent deity known as Deios, resulting in their fair complexion and hair. However, being a magical race, the Sidhcaire’s physical traits can apparently change over time.

For instance, I learned that Elspeth d’Aidmheil’s natural hair color was a golden blonde. It was not until her possession by the remnants of a demonic storm wraith (known as the gaoth meamna in their language) after slaying it did her hair turn black as a result. From what I read in their archives, Elspeth was also a raving lunatic as a result before meeting Peritor.

Of Peritor and Elspeth’s children, I was fortunate enough to meet the eldest one in the guise of an old merchant visiting from Niadhraon. It was their daughter named Ciara na Suthainn, meaning ‘Ciara the Eternal’ in their language for being the first to continue their family lineage. She was young, perhaps no more than seventeen or eighteen winters by my count but was the most remarkable woman I ever met. She had her mother Elspeth’s magical grace and her father’s Peritor’s sharp mind, from what I was told. When I first met her she was in a modest dress, but when she heard the battle horn sound a warning in the distance, Ciara grabbed my hand and we ran back to the watchtower, outpacing a running deer along the way. I could not have run so fast by myself; did she somehow bestow some of her power to me?

Once inside, Ciara placed me and the others who could not fight in a safe part of the watchtower and quickly donned her battle armor, consisting of custom crafted metal plates of gold and bronze with a white cloak. Once outside, her warhorse was brought to her and she mounted it, drawing her sword and let out a war cry before riding off to battle. I would not see her until sunset when she returned with the blood of many foes stained on her white cloak. I learned that it was an army of men from what is called the Shadowlands in the common tongue that had attacked via the sea on ships and the air on winged serpents that had been repelled. I also learned that the magical trees with the silver and gold leaves are the true strength of Aedh Caelinn, protecting it in a magical light that is a bane to even the most powerful demons and dragons. Why do such creatures still attack?

Apparently, the primal energies that dwell within Aedh Caelinn’s reservoirs are too tempting to ignore. Having remembered planewalkers battle relentlessly for control of the Black Lotus plant on Dominaria, I can almost understand their folly…almost, mind you.

I would later meet another beautiful Sidhcaire elf named Darien Aislean. What made her stand out from the others was her long walnut brown hair. From my brief conversation with her, I learned that she was becoming more in tune with the magic of the woods and earth in her training, resulting in the change as her power grew. Darien Aislean was a lovely young lady; I’m just glad that her hair didn’t turn moss green or fungus gray.

The Sidhcaire Elves of Aedh Caelinn were truly blessed with a magical grace. By contrast, in my travels to the plane of Lorwyn the elves there were nothing of the kind, although they certainly promoted themselves as such.

But the hour is drawing late and my vision is starting to blur. It is best to stop now for the night.

- Othniel Carthalion
Journal Entry 563

Avram Carthalion rested his chin on his hands on the desk, staring at the black metal sliver that was once part of the magical sword Adrolann. Every so often, black ethereal tendrils would slowly coalesce from it before being suppressed by the magical safeguards Othniel Carthalion emplaced upon it.

“Uncle Othniel,” Avram asked. “Did Peritor and Elspeth ever rid themselves of the demonic presence trapped within themselves?”

“Why yes, they did,” said Othniel, adjusting his spectacles.

“How? Was it by holy ritual? Or perhaps an exorcism?” suggested Avram, recalling some of his lessons.

Othniel rubbed his chin, recalling one of his visits to the Oranos plane.

“Actually, it was neither,” Othniel answered. “Before I start, though, I must tell you more about Oranos.”

Othniel stopped with what he was doing and pulled up a chair near Avram, followed by pouring himself a small cup of tea.

“As I once said before, Oranos is a world full of raw elemental power and diverse races. Humans, centaurs, elves, and dwarves live there with a host of wondrous flora and fauna. When I was there, I also learned of three malevolent races that were the banes of life: the Beithor, who were savage creatures that usually bore the head of a jackal, goat, or wolf on a man’s body; the Follanmahr, brutish creatures that were double or triple the size of a normal man with two, maybe even three heads and four arms; and lastly, and most feared: the Deimhenn.”

“Did you see any of them? What were they like?” asked Avram.

“Beithor? Yes, very much so when I was in Niadhraon and Omnia Res,” answered Othniel. “They were a little bit smaller than a normal man but bigger than a goblin. They were usually fodder, sort of like how goblins are in Dominaria. I never saw a Follanmahr; I only heard about them. From what I was told, there weren’t many to begin with and by the time I got there most had died off in battle. The Deimhenn, however, were a much different story.”

Avram’s eyes widened with curiosity.

“The Deimhenn were deceivers,” explained Othniel. “While many were accomplished warriors or sorcerers, their best, and most favored, skill was to turn brother against brother and tempt others to do their bidding. They used their magic to assume a fair form rivaling that of the Sidhcaire elves. Even worse, they were immortal.”

“Immortal? Like, gods?” said Avram.

“Not quite,” started Othniel. “They extended their lifespan through a ritual that was known as the ‘soul harvest’. I’m not sure of the specifics, but they apparently did blood sacrifices to harness the primal life force of their victims to extend their lifespan, making them effectively immortal; that ability alone made many fall prey to their evil temptation.”

“But what do the Deimhenn and this so-called ‘soul harvest’ have to do with Peritor and Elspeth?” questioned Avram.

“The Deimhenn and the soul harvest have everything do with Peritor and Elspeth, my boy! It‟s quite ironic, really.” answered Othniel, taking another sip of tea. “It happened somewhere on an unnamed battlefield in Niadhraon. A Deimhenn lord named Meilyr à Gamhlas had raised an army of Beithor and fought against the knights of Niadhraon that was reinforced by a small host of Sidhcaire Elves of Aedh Caelinn. Originally, most thought that it was another raid by some petty Deimhenn lord to gather victims for the soul harvest, but the scheming Meilyr proved cleverer than the defenders thought, “ started Othniel. “It was indeed a raid for victims, but they weren’t looking for villagers or townspeople to kidnap: it was Peritor and Elspeth.”

“Meilyr à Gamhlas launched wave after wave of Beithor warriors to isolate Peritor and Elspeth from the rest of the group, knowing at some point fatigue and the blood-filled carnage would eventually wear down Peritor’s will and Elspeth’s magical strength; he was right. Peritor and Elspeth both went berserk, slaying many Beithor and rushing in to attack with mad bloodlust in their eyes, further isolating themselves until they both collapsed from exhaustion,” continued Othniel. “Retrieving what was left of them was easy.”

“They awoke as captives of Meilyr à Gamhlas, who began the soul harvest ritual to cull the pure demonic power trapped by Peritor’s will and Elspeth’s grace. Both screamed in agony as Meilyr drew forth the demonic energies trapped within their bodies, adding to his own power. Meilyr smiled and roared triumphantly, feeling his magical power grow greater and greater with every passing moment until…”

“Until what?” asked Avram in anticipation.

“He exploded,” Othniel said, taking another sip of tea.

“WHAT?!” blurted out Avram. “That…makes no sense!”

“It doesn’t?” asked Othniel. “Avram, bring me that glass goblet over there.”
Avram complied, bringing it to his uncle. Othniel took the teapot and quickly began pouring the hot tea into the glass goblet, shattering it into fragments.

“Do you see what happened? Meilyr was undoubtedly drawing more power than his body could take, and like that glass, broke apart as a result,” explained Othniel. “Peritor and Elspeth freed themselves and escaped. When they rendezvoused with the rescue party sent after them, all could see that they were forever changed by what had occurred.”

“How so?” said Avram.

“The most obvious was that Elspeth had regained her magical grace, for her hair was a radiant blonde again,” described Othniel. “From what I was told by those who were around him, Peritor was much different as well.”

“Their combined strength kept a demonic power in check from a spiritual bond that formed during that fateful night when Peritor first helped Elspeth. Over time, this spiritual bond changed them for the better, I would imagine. Elspeth gained a measure of Peritor’s will that enhanced her magic greatly and Peritor gained a portion of Elspeth’s grace that protected him from the darkest of evils. From then on, Elspeth was known as Elspeth d’Aiteas, meaning „the joyous‟ in their language, if I remember correctly, to forever remember that joyous day,” continued Othniel. “The whole event is quite ironic, when you consider everything. It was not holy ritual, but Deimhenn magic, the most evil out there, mind you, that liberated Peritor and Elspeth from an evil presence. And, I might add, their would-be „liberator‟ was trying to kill them slowly and painfully and when he got what he wanted, he caused his own gruesome demise. ”

“You’re right, it’s funny, Uncle, but also kind of gross, too,” commented Avram before asking, “Did you ever see them again?”

“I briefly crossed paths with Elspeth once; she was radiant, but to my surprise, her hair was black! I later learned that she chose to have it dyed that way because she had grown to like having dark hair. Imagine that!” said Othniel.

“And Peritor?”

“I missed him on that occasion, and would not see him again in person,” added Othniel. “When I met their eldest daughter Ciara na Suthainn years later, however, she did show me a painting of her father displayed in one of the citadels. She said it always gave her a laugh, knowing how much her father hated posing for it in ceremonial armor.”

“What’s next, Uncle Othniel?” said Avram, who went back to staring at the metal shard of Adrolann.

“First, you need to clean up that mess,” said Othniel, alluding to the pile of broken glass and spilled tea. “And then I believe it’s time for lunch.”

Avram chuckled, getting up to retrieve a rag and a broom.

My name is Avram, son of Shadrach, but more importantly, the nephew of Othniel Carthalion, the planeswalker. Unlike others who wielded such great power, however, my beloved uncle was driven by the love of exploration, and not conquest. In all of his travels to the various planes beyond Dominaria, Othniel chose to blend-in with the local populace, learning everything he could of their culture, their way of life, and bringing back wondrous items from those places.

After much coaxing and perhaps his own wanderlust growing within him once again, Uncle Othniel agreed to take me with him on another one of his wonderful journeys. It was several years since he last visited the plane of Oranos, so he decided for us to visit there. His maps were admittedly a bit dated, no doubt, so we hoped for the best and planned for the worst as they say and through Othniel’s great magic, traversed the great dimensional gateway to Oranos.

We arrived to the city known as Dimos Ischyron in the land of Omnia Res. The journey was particularly taxing for my uncle, nearly collapsing when we first arrived. We arrived under the guise of wealthy merchants who had ample money, so it was easy for me to get him set up in more than adequate lodgings. Food seemed plentiful, as we had arrived during the summer harvest. The fruits were sweet and the roasted meats were tender and delicious; Othniel enjoyed his slow but delectable recuperation of good food and plenty of rest.

In the meantime, I toured the city. The market district was nothing I had ever seen before. So vast. So beautiful. One could get lost but not want to be found. Jewelers, metal smiths, artisans, painters, craftsmen, and every known food vendor was there selling their goods. Competition was plentiful, so prices seemed reasonable. Well, at least to me when comparing them to the price of similar goods in the city streets of Corondor.

Omnia Res was as diverse as Uncle Othniel described. There were humans, known as Luthamadan on this world, dwarves, known as the Asgan, and centaurs, known as the Alogodras. Although the Alogodras were a nomadic race, they were quite common in Dimos Ischyron and the surrounding area. I saw them tending large flocks of sheep in addition to elite lancers in armor patrolling the open plains outside the city.

When Othniel recovered his strength, we mentioned the option of traveling as part of a small merchant caravan to Dimos Ischyron’s sister city, Dimos Dynati, or to the Dwarven city of Kaienin. Othniel had been to both, and decided that we would travel to Kaienin to show me around the wondrous splendors it offered. Dwarves no longer exist on Dominaria, so the idea of visiting a great city of theirs immediately perked my interest.

Initially, the journey was uneventful, but I was able to see the wondrously vast land that was Omnia Res. The land was green and farmland verdant, like Dominaria was described to me in its youth, before the Antiquities War between Urza and Mishra.

Our seemingly uneventful journey ended abruptly with the arrival of a company of some two or three hundred centaur lancers that rode ahead of us. There was talk of an enemy force moving towards Dimos Dynati, and this group was part of many assembling to reinforce the existing garrison protecting the city.

By itself, the company of well-armed and armored centaurs didn’t seem out of the ordinary until I heard about their leader at the head of their column: a Luthamadan female known as Captain Marayn si Galad. From what I’m told, she is the only non-centaur the Alogodras deemed worthy enough to directly lead them into battle.

The merchant caravan was redirected back to the safety of Dimos Ischyron. My uncle, on the other hand, assumed a new guise as a chirgeon to support them and I, as his assistant. We rejoined the group of Omnia Resian soldiers as part of a small group of healers sent to support them. Between the two of us we knew a good deal of medicinal skills and our healing magic would prove helpful as well. Unlike the knights of Niadhraon that kept their healers far to the rear of the battle, the Omnia Resians expected some of their healers to be much closer to the field ready to render aid. Othniel allowed me to join that group, and it was then that I saw first-hand how Captain Marayn si Galad earned the respect of the Alogodras.

We arrived at the early onset of battle. Kaienin was under attack from a great host of beast-men, known as Beithor on this world. However they were unable to breach its walls. The city’s defenses looked like something Urza himself created. Great ballista launched steel tipped bolts, smashing apart crudely made siege towers. Searing streams of flaming oil shot out from stone gargoyles that overlooked one of the city gates, incinerating the would-be attackers and their battering ram. Massive catapults hurled stones and clay pots filled with fiery oil or shrapnel, striking down even more Beithor. But still, the Beithor stormed the walls with reckless abandon.
Marayn si Galad sent her force of centaur lancers into two columns as part of a much larger force of cavalry to break the main siege line. She led the first column, striking the Beithor from the flank with a rain of arrows and javelins while the second trampled through the broken ranks that remained.

She was amazing…riding what must have been a full gallop on her horse and taking shot after shot with her bow, striking down armored Beithor. Victory seemed inevitable, until Beithor reinforcements arrived. At the head was a fearsome warrior I later learned was named Magnus Athos.

Magnus Athos was a Deimhenn warlord who was infused with great supernatural power through a ritual called “the soul harvest”. He arrived on a giant bat as his mount, glowing with demonic fire it seemed. I felt my own soul rattle at his sight. With a fresh host of Beithor warriors, Magnus Athos launched another wave.

Marayn si Galad’s soft blue eyes hardened to steel, forming up her centaur lancers. While her centaur lancers provided her cover, Marayn set her sights squarely on Magnus Athos.

She proved the better rider, easily maneuvering her horse to avoid Magnus Athos’s attempts to swoop down from the sky to slay her. Marayn dismounted her horse to the cover of some nearby trees, biding her time to catch him off guard while he circled around. Marayn took aim and fired three arrows at him. The first deflected off his armor, the second struck the bat in its belly, and most importantly, the third struck the bat through its head. A great cheer roared through her forces as Magnus Athos came crashing down to the earth.

But Magnus Athos would not be defeated so easily, for he emerged from the dirt cloud cleaving through four Omnia Resian lancers like they were straw. Marayn put away her bow and drew her sword and shield, entering the fray.

Marayn clashed steel against Magnus Athos, who cleaved through another two centaur lancers to get to Marayn. The smaller, quicker Marayn si Galad dodged his attack and bashed his head repeatedly with her metal shield. Magnos Athos retaliated, cleaving through her shield with what was undoubtedly an enchanted blade of some kind, wounding her arm. When Magnus Athos saw the short sword Marayn wielded, one could sense that underneath his helmet Magnus Athos was grinning, mocking her as a warrior. Little did he know, Marayn si Galad would show him what true skill was.

When he attempted to strike again, Marayn dodged his attack and chopped off his sword arm, right around the forearm, following through with a thrust into his chest, right through his heart. Magnus Athos’s death was silent, dropping to his knees before falling over dead. The demonic fire that glowed so bright extinguished into smoldering embers.

Panic flashed through the Beithor like a flood drowning trapped rats. They retreated back to their lands in complete disarray. I later learned that despite its humble appearance, Marayn si Galad wielded an even greater magical blade of her own called Spathi Antria, known in the common language “the Sword of Courage”. I was also told that she slew a dragon with it.

While I never had the chance to meet Marayn si Galad in person, I certainly agreed with the comments of a dwarf I met named Gilius Thunderhead at the banquet held that night among the victorious defenders.

“That’s why I’m glad she’s on our side.”

***
We remained in Kaienin for about four days. Having never seen Dwarves up close, visiting a whole city of them was quite unique. Kaienin was nothing I had ever seen before. Two thirds of the city was carved into the mountain itself, housing great halls and chambers. The forward third was a massive bastion protected by assorted siege works and engines.

The Asgan certainly loved a good brawl here and there, and they certainly demonstrated a great loyalty to their family clans. I learned that it was not uncommon for Dwarven males to have two or three Dwarf females as wives. Skirmishes against the Beithor were common, and it was customary that Dwarven “brothers-in-arms” meant that should one fall in battle, the other would adopt the other’s family as his own. It was definitely an “Asgan-only” tradition, for I learned that Omnia Resian law forbade polygamy for the Luthamadan and that the Asgan could not have multiple human wives. Intriguingly enough, though, Omnia Resian law allowed divorce among the Luthamadan but under Asgan tradition, divorce was explicitly forbidden. In a stark contrast to both races, the Alogodras don’t even follow any such tradition regarding marriage.

Gilius Thunderhead was a generous host during our visit, showing us some of the mines and battle forges, in addition to allowing us partake in a great family feast with his two wives and numerous adopted children. While Gilius seemed to enjoy all of their company, their incessant prattling at times made him think that his fallen brothers-in-arms intentionally got themselves killed on purpose since they couldn’t get divorced. Well, that’s what he said after his fifth or sixth pint of ale.

After departing Omnia Res we soon found ourselves in Niadhraon, reaching the capital city of Sol Tirin. There, Othniel met up with the niece of an associate he knew during his last visit to the Oranos plane: a female knight named Elisia Darcune. She seemed very nice, albeit overly formal sometimes, and made sure we were taken care of as our host. I learned that Elisia Darcune was an accomplished knight of renown in Niadhraon as well, having fought against a great magical avatar known as Aima-Dolofonos and also a dragon at one point. While her accomplishments didn’t surprise Uncle Othniel at all, her appearance did. It turns out that when he first met her, she was a young squire training to become a knight. Her hair was short back then, arguably like that of a boy, Uncle Othniel described. But now, her hair went slightly past the base of her neck. Uncle Othniel found out later that Elisia Darcune’s new hair length was fairly recent and due to her aunt’s concern about “her favorite niece looking so butch”.

Coincidentally, it was this same aunt of Elisia Darcune’s that sponsored her training to become a knight and convinced her parents to support her endeavor. No doubt, Elisia viewed her beloved aunt as a mentor and felt somewhat beholden to her, resulting in her acceptance of her advice, albeit reluctantly.

Our stay in Niadhraon was fairly brief compared to our time in Omnia Res, and before I knew it we were on a ship departing the port town of Dragonmoor to Aedh Caelinn, the land of the Sidhcaire Elves. To our combined surprise, when we arrived at the port we were received by Sidhcaire warriors in armor who provided us escort to the nearest town. Like Omnia Res, Aedh Caelinn was also recently attacked, but by a large group of evil human warriors allied with the Deimhenn. While easily repelling their enemy, the Sidhcaire remained at a high state of battle readiness. Uncle Othniel was quite surprised when he saw the Sidhcaire elf Darien Aislean, who arrived as part of the escort party in full battle armor. He was so used to seeing her in dresses that he did a double-take when she greeted us.

Once inside the safety of the elven city of Túr Eayst, Uncle Othniel and I encountered the Sidhcaire that he described before: most were golden-haired elves of magical grace, save a few who pursued magic in the ways of nature like Darien, turning their hair a robust earthly dark brown.

Darien Aislean’s cousin, Firinne Gealach, would be our host during the visit to Aedh Caelinn. Like Darien, Firinne also pursued nature magic in addition to magic of light and water, as her hair was a rich reddish brown. She was lovely and fair, with a wisdom far beyond her years for she smiled, realizing that Othniel was no mere merchant trading goods to the elves. She sensed his power and somehow knew that she was not from the plane of Oranos. Because of this, she entrusted him with an everlasting gift to take back to Dominaria.

When we returned back home to Dominaria, my Uncle Othniel smiled in a way I had never seen before.

What Firinne gave him was a young sapling of their great trees that protected their land, destined to grow and bear leaves of gold and silver. Othniel smiled, holding it in its small pot before taking outside to a special grove to plant it.

Of all the gifts he gathered in his many years of traversing the planes, my Uncle Othniel Carthalion received the greatest gift of all: new life.

It was not long after Avram Carthalion surpassed his sixteenth winter that the early manifestation of the planeswalker spark emerged. Realizing this wondrous gift, Avram decide to follow in his beloved Uncle Othniel’s footsteps to be an explorer versus being some type of battle lord like his father. Avram spent much of his time studying the wondrous planes his Uncle Othniel visited, helping him chronicle everything in writing, along with continuing his own magical studies. For the young, impetuous Avram, waiting until he past his twentieth winter season was too long to wait before he would journey to another plane, however. So, one night, he put on a set of his traveling clothes, loaded up his pack of artifacts that he expected to be useful, and went off on his journey to explore another plane.

But the young Avram Carthalion’s raw talent lacked control, and as he tapped the mana within Dominaria, the magical energies unleashed catapulted him across the multiverse where he landed hard on his back upon on a wood and stone floor. Upon impact, Avram heard several things in his pack break, and to his dismay, the broken items were the mana batteries that stored the magical energy he was counting on using during his journey and to return back to Dominaria.

The young Avram looked around the relatively small chamber and noticed a large wooden tub that was filled with hot water, evident from the steam emanating from it. When he turned around, Avram received a swift kick in his groin from a woman’s bare foot. Avram doubled over, landing on his side writhing in pain. Avram looked up, seeing a tall, slender yet muscle-toned woman wearing a towel wrapped around her body that covered her up from her armpit level down to the middle of her shins with her hair haphazardly bundled up above her neck. Avram then realized she was holding a sword, pointing it squarely underneath his chin as she stated something in a language he had never heard of before. Avram gulped and quickly recited the translation spell he learned from his uncle, hoping that he had enough innate magic for it to work.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the woman stated. “I’ll not ask again, stranger.”

Avram gasped a momentary sigh of relief, understanding what she was saying as he replied in her language, “I am Avram…Avram Carthalion, my lady…”

The woman’s eyes narrowed sternly.

Avram immediately noticed a blue tunic with white trim bearing a white cross symbol, chainmail shirt, and other pieces of armor neatly mounted on the wall before continuing, “I am your new page…it’s my first day.”

The woman lifted up her sword and took a couple steps back.

“What are you doing in here as I am about to bathe?” she questioned. “Are you a pervert or just stupid?”

Avram turned bright red, fumbling his words when the door barged opened when a mongoose sprang into the room dressed in a military styled tunic and armed with a crossbow, pointing its tip squarely at Avram’s nose.

“My lady!” the mongoose cried out. “I heard commotion…is everything all right?”

Avram’s eyes lit up in shock over the sight of a talking mongoose dressed like a knight and armed; he certainly wasn’t in Dominaria anymore.

The woman smiled and replied, “Everything is fine, Sir Tobias. This is allegedly my new page, Avram. Put him to work and show him around a bit. I’ll be down later.”

The woman then sheathed her sword and picked up the still startled Avram Carthalion with one arm, putting him back on his feet. Although sixteen, Avram was small and with slight of build, making him appear a few years younger.

“Come along, then,” said Tobias, motioning Avram to follow. Avram followed behind Tobias, who closed the door behind them just as the woman opened up her towel and slowly stepped into the tub.

“Sir Tobias,” said Avram awkwardly. “Forgive my ignorance, but I’m afraid my wits aren’t quite about me. Who was she and where exactly am I?”

Sir Tobias looked up at him with a confused look.

“You don’t even know the name of the knight you’re serving?” questioned Tobias. “Did you hit your head or something on the way in? She is Lady Leondra Coeur d’Acier, one of Charlemagne’s paladins and as far as where we are, we’re in Benoic, a small province of Charlemagne’s European empire.”

Sir Tobias led Avram outside of what turned out to be a small stone keep, guarded by several dozen human men at arms and protected a village populated by some humans but mostly talking animals like Sir Tobias dressed in clothes and carrying about their business. Sir Tobias led Avram to the stables, where the sergeant at arms greeted them.

“Sir Tobias Morrigan Foolery,” said Sergeant at Arms Ludvig warmly. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

“This is Avram, Lady Leondra’s new page,” said Sir Tobias. “What work do you have for a page today?”

“Oh, they’re always a need for stable work,” replied Sergeant at Arms Ludvig. “A couple good hours, I think. This one’s a little scrawny, though. Is he up for it?”

“He doesn’t have a choice, so we’ll find out soon enough,” quipped Sir Tobias. “Go on, then, Avram, I’ll check on you shortly.”

Sergeant at Arms Ludvig showed Avram the layout of the stables, the location of the well, and went over the list of chores he had to do: put fresh water in the troughs, clean the stables, and take the horses’ leavings to the keep’s vegetable garden as fertilizer. Avram noted what he had to do and went to work.

It took Avram four round trips to the well to get enough water to refill the two troughs in the stable, carrying a bucket of water in each arm. By the time he was finished with the first chore, his arms were already exhausted but knew that if he didn’t finish his task, the sergeant at arms would probably beat him or worse.

Avram began shoveling up the horses’ leavings into a wheel barrow and when full, took it to the garden and emptied it into a pile that a local farmer was using to spread across the field while his two sons and one daughter began planting seeds.

“You’re new here,” said the young girl, who was about Avram’s age. “What’s your name?”

“Avram,” said Avram. “What’s yours?”

“Gwendolyn,” she answered before wrinkling her nose. “You stink.”

Avram didn’t know whether to laugh or cry after Gwendolyn laughed at him before returning to her chore of planting the next harvest crop. Avram pushed the wheel barrow back to the stables and took a whiff of himself and Gwendolyn was right. He reeked of horse and their leavings, along with his own body odors from working outside. For Avram Carthalion who lived a life of luxury and royalty growing up, his first journey to a different plane was something he had never expected. Instead of seeing the sites and exploring a new world, he was toiling in a stable. After about three hours Avram finished his task and Sir Tobias returned, showing him to his small room above the stables.

“Clean up a bit and meet us in the practice yard over there,” said Sir Tobias, pointing it out through the window. “We’ll see you then.”

Avram changed out of his clothes, cleaned himself up a bit and put on the page’s garb left for him, arriving on the practice field where Leondra Coeur d’Acier awaited him. There was a wooden waiting for him on the ground, and Leondra was already finishing up some training maneuvers. Avram caught only a brief glimpse of Leondra’s fighting technique, but readily saw that her combat skills were quite advanced.

“Pick it up,” ordered Leondra, alluding to the wooden sword while Sir Tobias stood by the periphery to observe. “Let’s see what you’re made of. If you’re going to be my page, you have to be able to defend yourself; I need to see what I have to work with.”

Avram picked up the wooden sword, wishing that he had paid attention to his father’s lessons when he was younger. When Leondra went it for her initial strike, Avram shrieked like a little girl before dropping his sword.

“What was THAT?!” said Leondra, wondering whether to punish her would-be page or start laughing at him over such a pathetic display.

“I believe you have a lot of work ahead of you, my lady,” answered Sir Tobias awkwardly.

“I will not entrust my life to a coward,” stated Leondra to Avram. “Pick it up and let’s try this again.”

Avram reluctantly did, and when Leondra performed a basic fighting maneuver, Avram cowed like a frightened child. With no magic and no protection of his Uncle Othniel over him anymore, Avram was truly alone and vulnerable.

“Stand up,” ordered Leondra. Avram did, ashamed by his display earlier.

“Show me your hands,” said Leondra, inspecting them followed by gently slapping his arms and chest to gauge what, if any, muscle mass there was.

“You don’t have the strength to hold a sword, much less defend yourself,” commented Leondra, placing her hands on her hips. “So, Avram Carthalion, are you going to quit, or do you want to train?”

Avram’s first inclination was to indeed quit and walk away, and then perhaps continue his journey to explore this new world before him once he was clear of the keep. Yet, something inside him said otherwise, knowing that to walk away now would be a foolish mistake.

“I want to train,” Avram stated.

“Good,” said Leondra with a smile. “We’ll need to build some strength in that scrawny frame of yours, first. Report to Sergeant at Arms Ludvig and split logs and then report to the kitchen.”
Sure enough, Avram Carthalion went back to work, splitting logs for the next hour before being summoned to the keep’s kitchen where he quickly washed up a bit and went to work preparing food. He brought in water to boil in a large kettle, along with any other mundane chore that needed to be done. During the course of his work he happened to see Gwendolyn again, who was helping her mother, the keep’s cook, slice vegetables.

“Hello,” said Avram, recognizing her.

“You smell better than before,” Gwendolyn said. “But if you’re going to stand there, you might as well be of some use. Go wash those potatoes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Avram with a smile, going back to work. Gwendolyn’s mother was almost as gruff as Sergeant at Arms Ludvig at times, barking orders on preparing the dinner meal for the keep’s attendants and the men at arms protecting it. Once again as it was every day, everything came together in the last hour, as the servants brought out a large roast pig and roasted chickens with vegetables and wild rice. Once Lady Leondra and her retinue were served, the cooking staff and servants enjoyed a hearty meal of their own in the cookhouse where they worked. Avram was able to sit next to Gwendolyn as they ate. To Avram, it seemed like common food compared to what he enjoyed at home in the Carthalion estate but to Gwendolyn, it was a sumptuous feast.

“You disapprove?” commented Gwendolyn, noticing his expression when he ate.

“Not at all,” replied Avram.

“Liar,” muttered Gwendolyn. “I don’t know where you’re from, Avram, but you’ll not find a better knight to serve under than Lady Leondra, save perhaps Sir Tiras. We may be servants, but she pays us and makes sure that we are offered the same quantity and quality of food that she receives. Name another knight willing to do that.”

Avram really couldn’t answer that, as the knights he knew of back in Dominaria generally don’t do such as thing.

“All right, then,” said Gwendolyn. Not long after their meal was finished, Avram joined Gwendolyn and the rest to clean up the dining hall as the last chore of the night. Whereas Gwendolyn joined her family that played music with a small mandolin by her brother and a flute by her mother while she sang and a few others danced afterwards outside their large cottage, Avram retired to his room and collapsed in his bed exhausted.

The next two weeks flashed like a blur. Avram’s morning routine was splitting some wood, followed by breakfast, tending the garrison such as bringing bricks to replace damaged ones or helping the blacksmith, and of course, maintain the stables. After lunch were more physical chores to build up some more strength, followed by a lesson in weapons training with Leondra before helping prepare dinner. In between conversation with various traders and merchants who came and went through Benoic, Avram learned that the world overall was known as „Gaea’ and while magic existed, it was nowhere near the level in Dominaria and worse yet, he had no idea how to tap into it. After the second week, Avram stayed to participate in their nightly merriment, offering something to Gwendolyn.

“What’s this?” asked Gwendolyn, seeing the small brass object shaped like a small hawk.

Unknown to her, it was once a vessel to store mana but after the vessel inside it broke, it was now just an ornate brass hawk figurine.

“A gift,” said Avram. “I’ve also given something similar to your parents and brothers.”

“How does a page come across such things?” asked Gwendolyn. “These aren’t stolen, are they?”

“No, not at all,” insisted Avram. “They’re just trinkets my family kept, that’s all.”

“I see,” said Gwendolyn, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Meanwhile, in her private chamber, Lady Leondra was with Sir Tobias reviewing a map and message received from Lady Bradamante late that afternoon.

“The rumors are true,” said Leondra, reviewing the note. “The demon knight exists.”

“Demon knight, my lady?” asked Tobias.

“I read about him some time ago when I was studying at Mont St. Michel,” recalled Leondra. “He's a supernatural being from the time of King Arthur Pendragon who merged his soul with that of a demon. He was a villainous knight whose name was Breunis, known at the knight without pity. He was defeated and later trapped in a tomb, hidden away somewhere and forgotten. Apparently, some tomb robbers stumbled upon it and unwittingly released him. He’s already struck three towns and two villages already, and appears to be coming towards here.”

“We have fifty men at arms in the keep here and can summon another fifty by tomorrow, my lady,” offered Tobias.

Leondra reviewed another note sent from her comrade in arms, Riordan, annotating the information onto her map.

“Riordan is already on the move trying to anticipate Breunis’s next attack, as is Sir Astolpho, and Sir Rinaldo,” described Leondra. “Breunis is avoiding a direct confrontation with them and attacking helpless targets. If I assemble a large force and ride after him, he will avoid me as well.”

“What do you propose my lady?” asked Tobias. “Ride out towards him alone perfumed and pretty like bait to draw him out?”

Leondra smiled.

“That is exactly what I have planned, Sir Tobias,” said Leondra, scratching his furry cheeks. “Are you with me?”

“But of course, my lady!”

“Good, tell my page Avram to prepare for a journey tomorrow.”

* * *

For the next two days Leondra donned a lavish royal cloak to conceal her armor and tunic with a large hood over her head, laden with an exotic perfume that could be smelled at great distances. Sir Tobias Morrigan Foolery trailed alongside her, remaining hidden in the woods and tall grass. Avram, as her page, rode behind her carrying a lavish banner, dressed in royal garb and wearing perfume himself. Ironically, the clothing and scent reminded him of life back in Dominaria at the Carthalion estate.

They rode out in the late morning at a leisurely pace, taking frequent breaks for their horses to gently graze and drink water at a nearby pond before resuming their journey. Sir Tobias joined them under the secluded grove, handing Avram a water skin and offering him a drink. Avram took a drink, followed by Lady Leondra’s spontaneous laughter; when Avram saw his reflection, he saw that his lips and teeth had turned purple!

“What the…what just….?” blurted out Avram, cleaning out his teeth with a rag and trying to rinse his mouth out.

“Sir Tobias Morrigan Foolery is often referred to as „Tom’ for short,” commented Leondra, regaining her composure. “And he’s a bit a prankster…”

“So I see, my lady,” said Avram. “Does Sir Tom Foolery play pranks on you, my lady?”
Leondra looked at Tobias with a stern yet furtive smile.

“I know better not to,” stated Tobias.

“Well, day two and no sign of Sir Breunis,” commented Leondra, spraying on some more perfume. “I wonder if I’m trying too hard to where it’s obviously a trap.”

“I wish I knew, my lady,” answered Tobias. “But the scent of your perfume is quite…nice.”
Leondra smiled, kneeling down to kiss him on the forehead before getting back on her horse to resume their journey. The sun began to set when Leondra saw a black dot amidst the sun get larger and larger until she recognized the outline.

“Breunis,” she whispered while unclasping her royal cloak. When Sir Breunis emerged on his dark winged steed, Leondra cast off her cloak and drew Arondight from her scabbard and took a swipe at him as he flew by, narrowly missing him.

“SEEK COVER!” shouted Leondra to Avram, who dropped the banner and rode to the cover of the nearby forest. Sir Tobias dashed past him with his crossbow loaded, trying to get a bead on Breunis’s steed. Breunis swept down again from the sky to strike, missing Leondra as she maneuvered her horse out of the way. Tobias fired his crossbow and struck home, hitting Breunis’s steed’s lower body. Forced to land, Breunis drew his demonic blade that glowed pale green energy after dismounting while Leondra dismounted with Arondight in one hand, and a cross in the other.

“In name of God, in the name of Jesus Christ, I send you to Hell,” stated Leondra as golden light emanated from her cross. Breunis yelled in pain initially but then laughed, resisting
Leondra’s spiritual power. Breunis attacked, parried by Leondra who then kicked him to separate them with some standoff.

“It will take more than amateur paladin powers to stop me, woman,” mocked Breunis, licking his lips. “Although I’ve never raped a female paladin before.”

“And you never will,” replied Leondra, letting out a war cry and attacked. Breunis parried and delivered a hard backhand, bloodying Leondra’s face and knocking the cross out of her left hand. Leondra attacked again, striking Breunis’s arm to lightly wound him. Breunis attacked but missed when Leondra evaded his strike and retaliated, cleaving his helmet apart to reveal his face. Breunis’s once human form was more serpentine and demonic, bearing the eyes of a serpent, two small horns from his head, and a mix of scaly skin patches on his face. Breunis grinned, spitting venom that struck Leondra’s eyes, blinding her.

“MY LADY!!!!” shouted Tobias, leaping into the fray with his short sword drawn. Sir Tobias scurried about striking Sir Breunis and evading his strikes, buying Leondra precious time to wipe the venom from her eyes. Breunis eventually caught Tobias mid-stride, grabbing him and taking a massive bite into his body to inject his venom before tossing him aside. Breunis laughed when suddenly Leondra unleashed her fury upon him, chopping off his sword hand following by chopping off his right foot just above the ankle with Arondight. Breunis collapsed in a heap, bitterly cursing her when she retrieved her cross.

“In the name of God…in the name Christ…go back to Hell…” Leondra said coldly, burning him in holy light before driving Arondight deep into his chest, piercing his armor, flesh, and bone to destroy the demon knight at last.

Leondra’s attention immediately turned to the mortally wounded Tobias. Leondra whistled for her warhorse, who rushed to her side followed by Avram on his small riding horse. Leondra saw Tobias’s eyes fluttering weakly; she was losing him as she retrieved her healing salves from her pack and applied them on his wounds. Avram saw in Leondra’s eyes what he had never seen before: fear.

“It’s not working,” said Leondra.

“Demon magic,” said Avram in a shocked, hushed tone. “A portion of his demonic power is poisoning him…I…I think I can heal him, though….”

Leondra looked at Avram, cautiously nodding “yes” and took a step away. Avram retrieved his pack and placed a medallion around Tobias’s neck. Tobias began to glow from the medallion’s magic, transforming from a mongoose into a young man with a slender yet lean, wiry body. His wound remained and Avram put on a brass claw of some kind and magically extracted what appeared to be a shard of demonic power from Tobias’s body. Tobias’s shallow breathing picked up, showing more signs of life.

“Your healing salves should work now,” said an exhausted Avram.

Leondra was speechless, applying her healing salves and bandages onto Tobias’s wounds. His eyes opened up, feeling himself cold and having five fingers and five toes on each of his hands and feet.

“My lady…?” asked Tobias in disbelief. “What..what has happened?”

* * *

Although enchanted, the healing salve has its limitation and Tobias would be fit for travel until the morning. Leondra and Avram established a hasty bivouac site in the nearby woods, where they got a fire going and ate a meal of travel rations that consisted of salted meats and dried fruits.

“Thank you for saving my friend,” said Leondra. “I thought I had lost him.”

“You almost did, but it is you who I should thank as well, my lady,” replied Avram.
Leondra had a bewildered look.

“You believed in me,” said Avram.

“So who are you, really? What’s your story?” asked Leondra. “When I first met you, you looked like a pampered prince but yet you saved my friend with magic that I’ve only read about.”

“I am a mage apprentice, my lady,” answered Avram. “From a far away land and whose teleportation spell didn’t work out as planned.”

“No, it certainly didn’t,” teased Leondra. “Why the transformation spell?”

“The spell techniques I learned for exorcising demonic powers were for humans,” explained Avram. “I wasn’t sure if they would work on your friend’s animal form, so it was easier to turn him into a human first.”

“I see,” said Leondra, noticing Tobias asleep, huddling amidst some blankets shivering. “I’m afraid my beloved friend Tobias is not used to being without his natural fur. I will tend to him while you keep first watch.”

“Yes, my lady,” agreed Avram, putting some more wood in the fire. Avram turned his back to Leondra to watch the outside perimeter as she undressed to her undershirt and pantaloons before crawling in underneath the blankets behind Tobias, gently holding him from behind to warm him up with her body. Tobias soon stopped shivering and Leondra smiled before drifting to sleep herself.

Leondra took last watch and was already dressed back in her armor and uniform when the sun rose. She heated up some water for some personal hygiene and checked on Tobias’s wounds, which were healed but Tobias was undoubtedly still weak and needed more time to rest once they returned to Benoic. Avram awoke and checked on his pack for a quick inventory, noticing a small pouch that he had forgotten about. Upon opening it, Avram Carthalion’s eyes opened wide, seeing the dried black lotus petals that were inside of it, giving him the mana power necessary to return back to Dominaria.

Sir Tobias Morrigan Foolery had awoken and unknowingly activated the medallion’s magic, returning back to his mongoose form and feeling much better. Removing it, Tobias gratefully thanked Avram and returned it for him.

“Keep it,” replied Avram, handing it back to him. “In case you ever want to be human again.”
Sir Tobias shrugged, putting the medallion in a pouch attached to his weapons belt.
“Returning home?” asked Leondra, putting her saddle back onto her warhorse.

“Yes, my lady,” answered Avram. “I’m long overdue.”

“Very well,” said Leondra, mounting her warhorse as Tobias scurried up and sat behind her. Leondra pulled her cross off of her belt and handed it to Avram, followed by Tobias giving him his hat that bore a small feather plume.

“Something to remember us by,” added Leondra, before riding off to return back to Benoic.

* * *

Tapping into the mana within the black lotus petals, Avram Carthalion launched himself back to Dominaria through the dimensional portal from the plane of Gaea. As it was before, Avram stumbled and fell, landing on the floor where his Uncle Othniel received him, reading a book while a crystal mounted in a brass base glowed.

“Ah, good to see you again, my boy!” said Othniel, helping him up. “I was starting to think something ate you. How was your first journey? Where did you go?”

“A new place none of us had been to before…a plane called Gaea,” explained Avram. “But I had no idea how I got there….how did I get back?”

“Well, this of course,” alluded Othniel, pointing to the glowing crystal. “When I found out you left I activated it, just as I do normally before I traverse to another plane. It’s like a homing beacon to make sure you can return here.”

“You’re…not mad at me, are you, Uncle?” asked Avram.

“Me? Not really. Your father, on the other hand, well, that’s a different story,” warned Othniel. “What did you learn on your first trip alone?”

“The value of hard work,” answered Avram, alluded to the training regimen Leondra put him through.

“Well, good, because you’re going to work off your debt for losing those artifacts you took,” stated Othniel, alluding to the empty shelf where they were kept. “You’ll start by cleaning up this mess in here, then tend to the gardens with the servants until lunch, and then clean the stables until dinner.”

“Yes, Uncle,” answered Avram, momentarily wondering if his Uncle Othniel and Lady Leondra were somehow related.

I thoroughly enjoyed your previous works and this one is no exception! Great work! I will be reading your other new posts as well and anything new you offer up. Keep it up!