Please enjoy the following fan-fiction that ties together the major plot threads of the Innistrad block.
I wrote this short story a few years ago, but have finally gotten around to editing and preparing it to share. I crafted it in a shorter style to match the general word-count Uncharted Realms was functioning under at the time I wrote this.
The calendar is derived from “The Cursed Blade,” and some of the journal-entry portions of my story continue that approach, which is common in the Gothic style (as found in Frankenstein and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde).
Further, this short story ties together the major pieces of the Innistrad block, but background available in “A Planeswalker’s Guide to Innistrad” and then “The State of the Faith” will provide some background. Throughout the text, I have inserted relevant articles from Savor the Flavor, Uncharted Realms, and the Magic Creative Team.
The full story is posted in posts #2-7.
If I get some positive responses, I’ll share my completed "Machinations on Mirrodin short story to reveal my version of a prologue to The Quest for Karn.
12th of New Moon, Ava. 719. Twenty-three days since the last full moon.
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Garruk Wildspeaker crouched low to the ground, burying his thick fingers into the soft loam, sniffing the scents and leylines of Innistrad.
The Planeswalker had always been a tracker, but the black-mana curse that seeped through his hulking frame had heightened his sense of hunting, stalking, and bloodlust. There had been times since his run-in with the witch on Shandalar that the curse overtook him completely and he’d awaken with no memory, surrounded by slaughter. His summoned tagged creatures manifested with illnesses and deformities. The death-mage would cure him or die, as he had been tracking her long enough.
After traveling with the good-intentioned werewolves led by Pavel, Garruk learned how the moon of this world heightened his sense of division—just as the werewolves contained a human spirit and a wild spirit, Garruk’s own self was bifurcated. The witch was near; he could sense it in his tracking spells. She had tried to throw him off by intersecting her work with that of another Planeswalker, but the second Planeswalker’s pain magic was based in red mana, not necromancy like Liliana’s, and this one stank of fiendish, hellish blood. She could not throw Garruk off her trail with such a unique decoy.
The beast of a man stood to his full towering height, and steadied himself on a pine tree as vertigo hit. The curse of the Chain Veil struck him intermittently. He could not go on any longer like this; he would not be reduced to whatever creature the curse insisted he become. He was no werewolf.
Garruk moved through the forested region of Kessig, his knuckles white as he gripped his axe: his quarry was near.
*~*~*~*~*
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Dominian Scholar of the Old Guard, specializing in pre-revisionist (Armada comics) and revisionist (Brothers' War through Apocalypse)history
Subject once again insisted fire would purify his soul.
I let him burn.
Pain exhibited by subject was standard. I was able to harness the chaos and intensity of the pain to fuel my own spellwork. Consistent with recent experimentations.
The Chatterings are strongest when I apply my torturous field work. However, connections with devilkind have been stronger as of late. I hear my kindred more often, louder, more intense. I had suspected it was due to the army of skaabs and ghouls gathering outside Thraben. My thoughts were rewarded with an increase in the Chatterings. My blood almost boils. The pain within as my human self contends with my devil self has not lessened since my Spark flared. I am both human and devil, not one accosted by the other. Pain is chaos, pain is progress, pain is joy. The alchemy used in converting others’ pain to mana has helped channel my unique situation: I am no werewolf fighting the two souls within myself.
I’ve decided to lurk behind this zombie army led by the siblings Gisa and Geralf; they’ve been around Innistrad nearly as long as I have—but I’ve had the pleasure of traveling between worlds and learning pain thresholds. Let’s see what chaos they plan to unleash on the High City. I may find suitable subjects.
Chaos thrills me. The unknown is like the Blind Eternities, immeasurable pain that can lead to orgasmic rapture.
15th of New Moon, Ava. 719. Second day of first full moon. Thraben under siege by ghoulcaller Gisa and skaberen Geralf for past two days.
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Veiled in shadow and dark auras, Liliana crept up from the Tomb of the Lunarchs beneath the Thraben Cathedral, looking for the young skaberen who had guided her there. Filling in rather nicely the stolen tabard of a fallen cathar, Geralf obliviously tossed a crow into the air, with a rolled parchment in its talons. The sky choked with ash and fire from the battle at the inner wall surrounding the holy city, and the messenger bird was quickly lost in its blackness. The setting sun and emerging moon were almost eclipsed by the destruction. Liliana lifted her spellwork, manifesting in front of the man who would be decently attractive if not for his crazed eyes.
Geralf gave a shrill cry at Liliana’s materialization, and she splayed her fingers across his mouth, pushing him against the stone wall of the Cathedral. In another situation, her dominance over him would have been titillating, but just now she was thankful that most of the cathars were busy at the wall pushing back Gisa and Geralf’s zombie horde.
“Quiet,” she whispered, producing a coy smile to encourage him. Geralf complied. “I have what I need. The city can be yours if you want it. I am going to the Helvault.”
Eyes wide - displaying the insanity that swam within the man’s mind - Geralf nodded, his lips trembling. Liliana genuinely smiled at her effect on him, and then kissed him full on the lips. She inhaled his scent - death, instability, ambition, chaos, cunning. Yes, she missed her life before her demonic contracts. Things were simpler then, and alluring men were easier to come by and keep around. Even life before the Chain Veil had been more fun, and she briefly recalled Jace Beleren on Ravinca.
Leaving his lips wet, Liliana pulled back but left her hands on his arms. She noticed their tone and build. Life was different now - there was not time for dalliances. “Now, go ruin this city with your sister, if she’s still out there. Stay out of my way, and there may be more where that came from.”
She winked at Geralf and leapt into the air, climbing on shadows until she reached the top of a tower.
Thraben was doomed. A ring of flames encircled nearly the entire city, creating a wall of fire that separated the inner wall from the outer wall, the living from the dead. She saw shapes moving up the wall: ghouls and skaabs continuing the siege even as their bodies burned to ash. Screams, shouts, cries, orders, and bells rang through the air. The raw black mana generated from the slaughter of the human defenders ebbed around Liliana, but she knew better than to fall for whispers of power. She had done that too many times before: the Raven Man, her demon masters, Nicol Bolas, the Chain Veil. She had her task in the courtyard near the precipice that led to the waterfall and sea beneath. Liliana had learned from the rebel Bishop Volpaig that the former Lunarch Mikaeus had been murdered and buried, and Geralf had directed her to the Tomb. Reanimated, Mikaeus revealed that both the guardian angel Avacyn and the demon Griselbrand were entrapped in the silver Helvault prison in the Courtyard. She had recently become hesitant using the Chain Veil’s power, but she would use it sparingly to destroy the Helvault and decimate the second demon that held her soul. Kothophed had easily fallen to its power.
She noticed guards still at their posts on the walls and in the windows of the Cathedral. Liliana would need a distraction so she could stroll into the courtyard and take control of her own destiny again. Her fingers ran through her hair where the Chain Veil rested.
“...vessel and seed...”
The Planeswalker shut her eyes against the whispers haunting her mind and tucked her neck as if she were a child wanting to crawl into a fetal position.
“Stop it,” she commanded. She took a few steps forward on the tower, intending to plot her path to the Courtyard, which she could see beyond the next roof.
“...root of evil...annihilation...”
Liliana focused on her breathing. Noise had never bothered her. However, the voices that had recently bubbled up from the Chain Veil threatened her sanity and focus, yet she needed it to break free and remove the mystic tattoos across her body that bound her to her demons.
A laugh bubbled from her throat at the thought. Her demons were not only her choices, but actual masters of the void.
She was damned.
Demons be damned, she cursed. Chain Veil be damned. Garruk be damned. Jace be damned. And me? I’m already damned.
Wrapping herself in the darkness around her, Liliana leapt onto a rooftop. There was no time for doubt or self-pity. She had a task.
A demon needed to die.
*~*~*~*~*
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Dominian Scholar of the Old Guard, specializing in pre-revisionist (Armada comics) and revisionist (Brothers' War through Apocalypse)history
After torturing Lothar, the alleged Guardian of Thraben, and tossing his body over the waterfalls at the city’s edge, the Lord Protector of Innistrad himself found me.
I did not expect the vampire Planeswalker to be so upset over the death of one human—even if it was the general of the army while Thraben lay under seige. He alleged that he had been hunting me.
“I’m honored,” I replied.
Sorin Markov—most ancient vampire and one familiar with the causes, effects, and experiences of pain—wasted no time in attacking me. His sweeping broadsword was impressive, but with the agility of my fiend-blood, I easily eluded his assaults, making sure my tail snaked by his face. Battle excites me. The threat of pain is exhilarating, and though it’s been argued that such an approach is juvenile, those detractors aren’t Planeswalkers and half-devils.
The details of our duel high on the walls of Thraben are irrelevant, but I did enjoy the startled looks of humans who saw us—one ancient, pale vampire with long, sleek hair pressing against a lean, taunting, red-skinned human with devilish horns and a whip-like tail. A few well-placed fireballs and impossibly-thin dagger strikes kept my subject at bay.
“Our people have enough challenges without your torment, boy,” Sorin spoke calmly. There was a magical quality to his voice—I soon discovered he was a song-mage of sorts, utilizing his voice in his spellcasting. “I’ve followed your trail of victims. You’re messy.”
He intrigued me—I had not left a trail. I told him as much.
“Leaving a Gavony family thrown over their bed is hardly subtle.”
I smiled my best wicked grin at him. “Wrong culprit, Lord Protector.” Then I decided to use my stinging words and not just my pain-magic: “Why do you bother protecting these people? The humans loathe your kind, and the vampire families detest you. I’m an outcast, too. I get it, fanglord, I really do. It was Avacyn, wasn’t it? You created her, and the vampires hate you because of it. Last time I was here, Avacyn was still around. Did they kill her?”
I didn’t get much of a response. He chose not to respond, but I could tell my words struck him. He pushed harder, and used what I can only now call rot-talk. A sonic boom erupted from his throat, and I felt my muscles begin to atrophy and my skin age. He tried to kill me on the spot, but I used all I’ve learned. I dashed around him again, slapping his face with my tail, but allowing his sword to slice my arm.
That was a mistake for the first few seconds of pain. The blade was clearly enchanted and seeped my lifeforce.
Luckily I was ready.
Drawing all my pain inward, I cast a spell, transformed it into pure red mana, and struck back. Sorin erupted in flames—from which I am sure he escaped unscorched—and then I used the remainder of my pain-mana to planeswalk into the Blind Eternities.
This was my first victorious attempt at converting extreme pain into usable magic and successfully casting. It looks like the horrors of Innistrad still offer hope. I need to heal. The blade-wound has been cauterized, but a pact with devils may restore my strength at some cost—perhaps a few tortured humans or werewolves will excite them enough to assist their cast-away half-brother.
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Dominian Scholar of the Old Guard, specializing in pre-revisionist (Armada comics) and revisionist (Brothers' War through Apocalypse)history
17th of New Moon, Ava. 719. First full nightfall after Avacyn’s release. Fifth and last day of first full moon. Thraben siege has ended after the Archangel Avacyn and various demons were release from the Helvault. Moon’s sliver glow has increased to luminosity prior to Avacyn’s Disappearance -
The soratami paused in her writing and laid her pen on the table. Unwrapping her elongated ears, Tamiyo let her thin, white hair cascade down her back as it loosened from its bindings. Her slim porcelain fingers massaged her scalp - all the lunar changes were so sudden and pressing.
“Deep breaths, Tamiyo,” Jenrik soothed from behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. The older human had hair that matched hers, and his passion for astronomy stirred the soratami’s own lust for knowledge. She smiled at his attempted pronunciation of her name, even after their many lunar cycles together. The Planeswalker briefly thought of her home, the waterfall academy and cloud city on the plane of Kamigawa, where her name would be effortlessly spoken by her peers.
She leaned her long neck back to nestle next to the astronomer’s head. “There are so many changes,” she exhaled.
A low rumble of assertion bubbled from the human’s throat. “Like the moons, Innistrad continually changes. What magic works one night changes the next - you know this. Avacyn’s return has altered everything. We have much new mapping to do, but plenty of time to do so. Perhaps the first full moon cycle of the New Moon is not conducive to field notes and astronomical musings.”
A light giggle escaped Tamiyo’s lips. She turned to face him, breaking from his arms wrapped around her, as her hair had escaped her ears moments before. “There is not enough time to explore all of this world’s wonders.”
“No, there never is,” Jenrik replied. “I’ve worked very hard for decades before you arrived. Patience, my dear. The world changes, the rules change, opposites become unified, things whole become split . . . sense is turned upside down.”
“And that doesn’t frustrate you still?”
The old man smiled behind his beard. “No. There are wonders hidden in a world of surprises.” He held out his hand, and she took it.
*~*~*~*~*
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The devils had fled in true terror. The demons had given her space out of awe. Humans would not venture near the Ashmouth. Alone, in the heart of the Geier mountains, beside the deep cavern to Innistrad’s hell, Liliana sobbed.
It was not so much the pain of the tattoos that iridescently shone across her skin, nor the blood that magically seeped from her flesh along the glowing demon-scrawl. They were not tears of joy at her dominance over Griselbrand, whom she obliterated with the powers of the Chain Veil, ensuring that he would not be reconstituted into another demon as the hell-spawn of Innistrad were wont to do.
Her tears, flowing as freely as her blood, were those of defeat.
The tattoos did not disappear, try as her body might in rejecting them. She felt herself change. The authority Kothophed and Griselbrand exerted over her was gone—she felt it. Whatever her soul had once felt like before she bargained with it was not there again. Two demon masters remained. She touched her face and knew it still retained its beauty, but she also sensed the wrinkles lurking beneath it, and wondered if grey threads were visible in her thick black hair.
The necromancer would never have anticipated her emotional reaction. She felt helpless against her situation, even with the power of the Veil. No, not even with it—she felt helpless especially because of it. She had traded one set of masters for another. The mysterious Onakke ogres of Shandalar kept a whispering secret within the Veil that Liliana could not escape. And she needed those powers to defeat her demons. Darkness and doom surrounded her; it lurked within her.
Liliana’s tears hissed as they hit the heat of the rocks around her. The chasm to her right spewed smog and smoke, and orange-red magma glowed from beneath. It was here where demons primarily entered the world of Innistrad. She remembered this place from her various visits to Innistrad, including when she bargained with Griselbrand.
She shook the voices out of her head, but a strange music entered her mind, a peculiar humming that followed some simple melody. She inhaled the wickedness of the Ashmouth and tried to calm herself, smearing blood from her hands onto the stones, which lightly sizzled from infernal heat. The Planeswalker closed her eyes, and let the otherworldly music calm her.
Then she realized that the music didn’t come from the Veil.
She opened her eyes and gathered mana from the marshes of Innistrad to her.
A tall, white-hair vampire stood before her, an impressive broadsword sheathed at his hip. She immediately noticed his throat moving, vocalizing the hum she heard.
“Get out,” she snarled, amplifying it with magic and invoking a fear spell.
“I am a friend,” the vampire answered, stopping his song but remaining stationary.
“I don’t have friends here.”
“You destroyed Griselbrand and released Avacyn. If not a friend, you have earned an ally.” She glared at him, wiping her bloodied hands on her purple corset while blood continued her seep from the demon-scrawl, an aftereffect of murdering one of her masters. The man continued: “I am Sorin Markov, one like you, in many ways. I am from this plane, but I travel to others. The dark arts sing to me, as they do you, and I know what it is to devote myself to personal causes. Some may call me selfish; I suspect you are accused similarly.”
Liliana focused her thoughts, stifling her tears and ignoring the pain. She readied a handful of spells—ghoul-summoning, pain, mind-rot, whatever may come in handy.
“Avacyn was my creation,” Sorin continued, taking a cautionary step towards her. “I thank you for releasing her. Her creation was necessary to balance Innistrad. I am a pariah among the vampires, and my penchant for feeding keeps the humans away. I noticed your power and wanted to introduce myself.”
“Why?” Sorin stepped closer, and crouched next to her. She did not see lust in his eyes, and Liliana knew that look well. He did not want her body, and maybe not her blood. “How ancient are you?” she asked.
His thin lips smiled. “Older than you, but I suspect you knew what real power was. Before the temporal disaster on Dominaria.”
Liliana involuntarily pulled away. How did he know that?
“Why else would you make bargains with demons?” She did not respond. “That is the reason for the markings and their boons, yes? You worked to maintain your power after the Mending that weakened us. I recognize some of those markings.”
Relying on her beauty, Liliana smiled, imbuing herself with some spells of seduction. “I have made my choices.”
“Here,” Sorin whispered, extending his hand, “allow me.”
Liliana femininely placed her hand in Sorin’s sure fingers, and his throat emitted another hum. His fingers began massaging her blood-soaked hand, and she realized her mistake. This creature was a vampire.
He seemed to read her mind. “Don’t struggle. I can assist. I am not here to prey on you, my dear lady.”
The song emerged again, and she felt the tattoos pulse on her arms, across her chest, on her face. Blood dripped from them, and she closed her eyes. The pain subsided, even if the bleeding didn’t. Sorin’s song-magic worked on her skin and delved into her. The sensation was arousing in its own fashion, but Liliana did not feel violated. She did not even recoil when fingers from his other hand set themselves on her shoulder and neck. The music soon faded, and Liliana opened her eyes.
Sorin’s tongue wetted his lips, but he was not imaging feasting on her. She could tell he had absorbed the sustenance he needed from her blood through magic. The tattoos faded, leaving her body smeared in crimson.
“Why?” she inquired.
“A token of appreciation for freeing Avacyn and for leading me to the pain artist. That was you as well, was it not, leaving clues?” Liliana did not respond—honestly, she had done so to throw off Garruk, who continued to pursue her. She figured the half-devil would give any pursuers a challenge and leave her free to hunt. “I do not know the artifact you carry, but I can tell it is potent. Know that you have allies when you need them . . . I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”
She considered lying, but indulged the vampire further. “Liliana Vess.”
“Allies are around us, Liliana. Some planes and plots require assistance and for us to act in the greater good of existence.” Then he chuckled: “And other planes can go to hell.” Liliana nodded her agreement. “Recent events elsewhere have reminded me of our responsibilities as Planeswalkers - when we are not absorbed in our own ends. Find me if you need me. I’ve neglected others to the detriment of existence. I think we need to stand for something sometimes. Especially after the Mending. So few of us know what true power is any more. Travel safely, Planeswalker.”
Then Sorin stood, stepped back, and winked out of existence.
Emotion caught in Liliana’s throat, and an urge to sob rose in her again. What the hell was going on in the Multiverse? Had Sorin said he recognized one of her masters? It did not matter. She needed to be rid of the Veil before it broke her sanity and possessed her. Before her next act of murderous retribution, she needed to return it to Shandalar.
She needed to be her own woman once again.
No more masters.
No more demons.
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Dominian Scholar of the Old Guard, specializing in pre-revisionist (Armada comics) and revisionist (Brothers' War through Apocalypse)history
I've finished reading your stories! It is hard to give an unified opinion since they are all so spaced out from each other, and mostly they are small events between the larger Innistrad storyline.
I did not read Innistrad's story, but if you don't mind, I would say my opinion stands like this:
- I liked your characterization of the world, it felt dark and ghotic, which I suppose is the way Innistrad should feel.
- The bits I enjoyed the most were the first story with Garruk and the start of a characterization of Tibalt.
I like the way you represented Liliana, though I believe there was more erotic wording than necessary. Not sure about she trying to seduce Geralf, who seems to be a mad man, but I understand some tension when in the presence of Sorin.
Sorin's characterization I believe it could be a little bit better, he felt too much like a good guy in general to me, not someone more neutral and selfish as I believe he should be. When I think of Sorin it comes to mind something like the flavor text of Sorin's Vengeance, so I believe he lacked that wit.
I liked that you let very clear Tibalt never had a chance to beat Sorin, but somehow I think you've mentioned too much of planeswalking in your story, when it seems to be something that is rarely described in walkers stories. You know what would have been cool? If instead of Sorin disappearing out of existence he turned into a bat and flew away, ha! And to differentiate it could have been a white bat, bigger than most. I don't know, in my mind sounds elegant, haha.
Not much to say on Tamiyo and the rest of the story, since I think there were lot of tie-ins in the storyline that I didn't catch because I didn't read it. Maybe a problem to write something like that here is exactly that for people to fully appreciate the scope of your work they should also read the main storyline, which is more difficult
But keep it up man! When you finish the Mirrodin Prequel I will check it out!
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Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
Thanks for the feedback. When I first wrote this (which occurred well before I posted it), I had planned to keep it to about 4,000 words (the size of a standard Uncharted Realms article at the time). Since then, URs have increased in size. Also, since the stories exist (links in my original post), I didn't want to tread over existing material. Ideally, if there would have been any real reason to flesh it out, I would have included Garruk's duel with Liliana and more Geralf and Gisa interaction, along with Liliana's use of Thalia and destruction of Griselbrand. My goal was to create as little as possible while threading together existing plots or characters and fitting them into continuity.
I really wanted Sorin's song magic (a continuation from Teeth of Akoum, along with his rot-inducing broadsword), and with Sorin coming fresh off of Zendikar to Innistrad, I decided to highlight more of his white-mana/balance side than his vengeance. I can understand how we'd want to see that. However, since Liliana did free Avacyn, I thought some thanks was in order (and he was able to feed a bit--if only magically rather than actually drinking her blood).
As for Liliana's sexualization, I went back to her seductress roots. Also, I like the idea that she has relied so much on her sex appeal that even if she does not love a person, she knows seducing a man may get her what she wants. And, she may not pass up a good time, even if the guy is crazy. Well--except she will pass it up, because she has bigger things to worry about. My intention of her sexualization was a move toward a lost soul; she does what she does because that is who she had been, to get what she needed at the time. Now she falls back on those habits.
For Tamiyo, she received no screentime in any Innistrad fiction, so my portrayal of her here is pure fiction. I liked the concept of an interracial and intergenerational and interplanar relationship between Tamiyo and Jenrik.
I'll be heading over to your Innistrad work shortly.
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Dominian Scholar of the Old Guard, specializing in pre-revisionist (Armada comics) and revisionist (Brothers' War through Apocalypse)history
Huum, I see. Your take on Liliana with that explanation makes more sense now! And yeah, I figured Sorin, the way you wrote him, would be looking more white than black.
I forgot to mention, but interesting that you introduced Tibalt vs Sorin in the story given that people back in the Magic Storyline forum were saying that it wasn't even clear if they had ever faced each other. Now they have, hehe.
I also understood a little bit more of your philosophy here, and I'll be curious to see some piece of yours in which you try to create new storylines as well, not only connect threads together (which is also great, but it does restrict your liberty). If that happens, let me know. And I think it goes without saying that I found it very well written, it is clear that you have experience in writing. Good job man.
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Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
The Duel Deck inspired my placing Tibalt versus Sorin. Had the Duel Deck not been a thing, I wouldn't have considered it.
My Mirrodin story is very much my own work. It won't contradict anything in canon, and it will help Glissa get from an anti-Karn Phyrexian (as portrayed in the Planeswalker Guide) to the pro-Karn acolyte (as seen in Quest for Karn). I think you'll see what I do with some more freedom in the Magic multiverse with "Machinations on Mirrodin."
I'm glad my explanations of Liliana and Sorin made sense, but if it didn't make sense in the story itself, that was a failing on my part.
My time to write is usually limited, and I usually end up with some more academic writing, so creative writing is a slow and steady process for me!
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I wrote this short story a few years ago, but have finally gotten around to editing and preparing it to share. I crafted it in a shorter style to match the general word-count Uncharted Realms was functioning under at the time I wrote this.
The calendar is derived from “The Cursed Blade,” and some of the journal-entry portions of my story continue that approach, which is common in the Gothic style (as found in Frankenstein and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde).
Further, this short story ties together the major pieces of the Innistrad block, but background available in “A Planeswalker’s Guide to Innistrad” and then “The State of the Faith” will provide some background. Throughout the text, I have inserted relevant articles from Savor the Flavor, Uncharted Realms, and the Magic Creative Team.
The full story is posted in posts #2-7.
If I get some positive responses, I’ll share my completed "Machinations on Mirrodin short story to reveal my version of a prologue to The Quest for Karn.
Enjoy returning to Innistrad!
12th of New Moon, Ava. 719. Twenty-three days since the last full moon.
*~*~*~*~*
Garruk Wildspeaker crouched low to the ground, burying his thick fingers into the soft loam, sniffing the scents and leylines of Innistrad.
The Planeswalker had always been a tracker, but the black-mana curse that seeped through his hulking frame had heightened his sense of hunting, stalking, and bloodlust. There had been times since his run-in with the witch on Shandalar that the curse overtook him completely and he’d awaken with no memory, surrounded by slaughter. His summoned tagged creatures manifested with illnesses and deformities. The death-mage would cure him or die, as he had been tracking her long enough.
After traveling with the good-intentioned werewolves led by Pavel, Garruk learned how the moon of this world heightened his sense of division—just as the werewolves contained a human spirit and a wild spirit, Garruk’s own self was bifurcated. The witch was near; he could sense it in his tracking spells. She had tried to throw him off by intersecting her work with that of another Planeswalker, but the second Planeswalker’s pain magic was based in red mana, not necromancy like Liliana’s, and this one stank of fiendish, hellish blood. She could not throw Garruk off her trail with such a unique decoy.
The beast of a man stood to his full towering height, and steadied himself on a pine tree as vertigo hit. The curse of the Chain Veil struck him intermittently. He could not go on any longer like this; he would not be reduced to whatever creature the curse insisted he become. He was no werewolf.
Garruk moved through the forested region of Kessig, his knuckles white as he gripped his axe: his quarry was near.
*~*~*~*~*
Subject once again insisted fire would purify his soul.
I let him burn.
Pain exhibited by subject was standard. I was able to harness the chaos and intensity of the pain to fuel my own spellwork. Consistent with recent experimentations.
The Chatterings are strongest when I apply my torturous field work. However, connections with devilkind have been stronger as of late. I hear my kindred more often, louder, more intense. I had suspected it was due to the army of skaabs and ghouls gathering outside Thraben. My thoughts were rewarded with an increase in the Chatterings. My blood almost boils. The pain within as my human self contends with my devil self has not lessened since my Spark flared. I am both human and devil, not one accosted by the other. Pain is chaos, pain is progress, pain is joy. The alchemy used in converting others’ pain to mana has helped channel my unique situation: I am no werewolf fighting the two souls within myself.
I’ve decided to lurk behind this zombie army led by the siblings Gisa and Geralf; they’ve been around Innistrad nearly as long as I have—but I’ve had the pleasure of traveling between worlds and learning pain thresholds. Let’s see what chaos they plan to unleash on the High City. I may find suitable subjects.
Chaos thrills me. The unknown is like the Blind Eternities, immeasurable pain that can lead to orgasmic rapture.
I am Tibalt the fiend-blooded. Here I come.
*~*~*~*~*
15th of New Moon, Ava. 719. Second day of first full moon. Thraben under siege by ghoulcaller Gisa and skaberen Geralf for past two days.
*~*~*~*~*
Veiled in shadow and dark auras, Liliana crept up from the Tomb of the Lunarchs beneath the Thraben Cathedral, looking for the young skaberen who had guided her there. Filling in rather nicely the stolen tabard of a fallen cathar, Geralf obliviously tossed a crow into the air, with a rolled parchment in its talons. The sky choked with ash and fire from the battle at the inner wall surrounding the holy city, and the messenger bird was quickly lost in its blackness. The setting sun and emerging moon were almost eclipsed by the destruction. Liliana lifted her spellwork, manifesting in front of the man who would be decently attractive if not for his crazed eyes.
Geralf gave a shrill cry at Liliana’s materialization, and she splayed her fingers across his mouth, pushing him against the stone wall of the Cathedral. In another situation, her dominance over him would have been titillating, but just now she was thankful that most of the cathars were busy at the wall pushing back Gisa and Geralf’s zombie horde.
“Quiet,” she whispered, producing a coy smile to encourage him. Geralf complied. “I have what I need. The city can be yours if you want it. I am going to the Helvault.”
Eyes wide - displaying the insanity that swam within the man’s mind - Geralf nodded, his lips trembling. Liliana genuinely smiled at her effect on him, and then kissed him full on the lips. She inhaled his scent - death, instability, ambition, chaos, cunning. Yes, she missed her life before her demonic contracts. Things were simpler then, and alluring men were easier to come by and keep around. Even life before the Chain Veil had been more fun, and she briefly recalled Jace Beleren on Ravinca.
Leaving his lips wet, Liliana pulled back but left her hands on his arms. She noticed their tone and build. Life was different now - there was not time for dalliances. “Now, go ruin this city with your sister, if she’s still out there. Stay out of my way, and there may be more where that came from.”
She winked at Geralf and leapt into the air, climbing on shadows until she reached the top of a tower.
Thraben was doomed. A ring of flames encircled nearly the entire city, creating a wall of fire that separated the inner wall from the outer wall, the living from the dead. She saw shapes moving up the wall: ghouls and skaabs continuing the siege even as their bodies burned to ash. Screams, shouts, cries, orders, and bells rang through the air. The raw black mana generated from the slaughter of the human defenders ebbed around Liliana, but she knew better than to fall for whispers of power. She had done that too many times before: the Raven Man, her demon masters, Nicol Bolas, the Chain Veil. She had her task in the courtyard near the precipice that led to the waterfall and sea beneath. Liliana had learned from the rebel Bishop Volpaig that the former Lunarch Mikaeus had been murdered and buried, and Geralf had directed her to the Tomb. Reanimated, Mikaeus revealed that both the guardian angel Avacyn and the demon Griselbrand were entrapped in the silver Helvault prison in the Courtyard. She had recently become hesitant using the Chain Veil’s power, but she would use it sparingly to destroy the Helvault and decimate the second demon that held her soul. Kothophed had easily fallen to its power.
She noticed guards still at their posts on the walls and in the windows of the Cathedral. Liliana would need a distraction so she could stroll into the courtyard and take control of her own destiny again. Her fingers ran through her hair where the Chain Veil rested.
“...vessel and seed...”
The Planeswalker shut her eyes against the whispers haunting her mind and tucked her neck as if she were a child wanting to crawl into a fetal position.
“Stop it,” she commanded. She took a few steps forward on the tower, intending to plot her path to the Courtyard, which she could see beyond the next roof.
“...root of evil...annihilation...”
Liliana focused on her breathing. Noise had never bothered her. However, the voices that had recently bubbled up from the Chain Veil threatened her sanity and focus, yet she needed it to break free and remove the mystic tattoos across her body that bound her to her demons.
A laugh bubbled from her throat at the thought. Her demons were not only her choices, but actual masters of the void.
She was damned.
Demons be damned, she cursed. Chain Veil be damned. Garruk be damned. Jace be damned. And me? I’m already damned.
Wrapping herself in the darkness around her, Liliana leapt onto a rooftop. There was no time for doubt or self-pity. She had a task.
A demon needed to die.
*~*~*~*~*
Success.
I was able to transform my pain into mana.
After torturing Lothar, the alleged Guardian of Thraben, and tossing his body over the waterfalls at the city’s edge, the Lord Protector of Innistrad himself found me.
I did not expect the vampire Planeswalker to be so upset over the death of one human—even if it was the general of the army while Thraben lay under seige. He alleged that he had been hunting me.
“I’m honored,” I replied.
Sorin Markov—most ancient vampire and one familiar with the causes, effects, and experiences of pain—wasted no time in attacking me. His sweeping broadsword was impressive, but with the agility of my fiend-blood, I easily eluded his assaults, making sure my tail snaked by his face. Battle excites me. The threat of pain is exhilarating, and though it’s been argued that such an approach is juvenile, those detractors aren’t Planeswalkers and half-devils.
The details of our duel high on the walls of Thraben are irrelevant, but I did enjoy the startled looks of humans who saw us—one ancient, pale vampire with long, sleek hair pressing against a lean, taunting, red-skinned human with devilish horns and a whip-like tail. A few well-placed fireballs and impossibly-thin dagger strikes kept my subject at bay.
“Our people have enough challenges without your torment, boy,” Sorin spoke calmly. There was a magical quality to his voice—I soon discovered he was a song-mage of sorts, utilizing his voice in his spellcasting. “I’ve followed your trail of victims. You’re messy.”
He intrigued me—I had not left a trail. I told him as much.
“Leaving a Gavony family thrown over their bed is hardly subtle.”
I smiled my best wicked grin at him. “Wrong culprit, Lord Protector.” Then I decided to use my stinging words and not just my pain-magic: “Why do you bother protecting these people? The humans loathe your kind, and the vampire families detest you. I’m an outcast, too. I get it, fanglord, I really do. It was Avacyn, wasn’t it? You created her, and the vampires hate you because of it. Last time I was here, Avacyn was still around. Did they kill her?”
I didn’t get much of a response. He chose not to respond, but I could tell my words struck him. He pushed harder, and used what I can only now call rot-talk. A sonic boom erupted from his throat, and I felt my muscles begin to atrophy and my skin age. He tried to kill me on the spot, but I used all I’ve learned. I dashed around him again, slapping his face with my tail, but allowing his sword to slice my arm.
That was a mistake for the first few seconds of pain. The blade was clearly enchanted and seeped my lifeforce.
Luckily I was ready.
Drawing all my pain inward, I cast a spell, transformed it into pure red mana, and struck back. Sorin erupted in flames—from which I am sure he escaped unscorched—and then I used the remainder of my pain-mana to planeswalk into the Blind Eternities.
This was my first victorious attempt at converting extreme pain into usable magic and successfully casting. It looks like the horrors of Innistrad still offer hope. I need to heal. The blade-wound has been cauterized, but a pact with devils may restore my strength at some cost—perhaps a few tortured humans or werewolves will excite them enough to assist their cast-away half-brother.
*~*~*~*~*
The soratami paused in her writing and laid her pen on the table. Unwrapping her elongated ears, Tamiyo let her thin, white hair cascade down her back as it loosened from its bindings. Her slim porcelain fingers massaged her scalp - all the lunar changes were so sudden and pressing.
“Deep breaths, Tamiyo,” Jenrik soothed from behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. The older human had hair that matched hers, and his passion for astronomy stirred the soratami’s own lust for knowledge. She smiled at his attempted pronunciation of her name, even after their many lunar cycles together. The Planeswalker briefly thought of her home, the waterfall academy and cloud city on the plane of Kamigawa, where her name would be effortlessly spoken by her peers.
She leaned her long neck back to nestle next to the astronomer’s head. “There are so many changes,” she exhaled.
A low rumble of assertion bubbled from the human’s throat. “Like the moons, Innistrad continually changes. What magic works one night changes the next - you know this. Avacyn’s return has altered everything. We have much new mapping to do, but plenty of time to do so. Perhaps the first full moon cycle of the New Moon is not conducive to field notes and astronomical musings.”
A light giggle escaped Tamiyo’s lips. She turned to face him, breaking from his arms wrapped around her, as her hair had escaped her ears moments before. “There is not enough time to explore all of this world’s wonders.”
“No, there never is,” Jenrik replied. “I’ve worked very hard for decades before you arrived. Patience, my dear. The world changes, the rules change, opposites become unified, things whole become split . . . sense is turned upside down.”
“And that doesn’t frustrate you still?”
The old man smiled behind his beard. “No. There are wonders hidden in a world of surprises.” He held out his hand, and she took it.
*~*~*~*~*
It was not so much the pain of the tattoos that iridescently shone across her skin, nor the blood that magically seeped from her flesh along the glowing demon-scrawl. They were not tears of joy at her dominance over Griselbrand, whom she obliterated with the powers of the Chain Veil, ensuring that he would not be reconstituted into another demon as the hell-spawn of Innistrad were wont to do.
Her tears, flowing as freely as her blood, were those of defeat.
The tattoos did not disappear, try as her body might in rejecting them. She felt herself change. The authority Kothophed and Griselbrand exerted over her was gone—she felt it. Whatever her soul had once felt like before she bargained with it was not there again. Two demon masters remained. She touched her face and knew it still retained its beauty, but she also sensed the wrinkles lurking beneath it, and wondered if grey threads were visible in her thick black hair.
The necromancer would never have anticipated her emotional reaction. She felt helpless against her situation, even with the power of the Veil. No, not even with it—she felt helpless especially because of it. She had traded one set of masters for another. The mysterious Onakke ogres of Shandalar kept a whispering secret within the Veil that Liliana could not escape. And she needed those powers to defeat her demons. Darkness and doom surrounded her; it lurked within her.
Liliana’s tears hissed as they hit the heat of the rocks around her. The chasm to her right spewed smog and smoke, and orange-red magma glowed from beneath. It was here where demons primarily entered the world of Innistrad. She remembered this place from her various visits to Innistrad, including when she bargained with Griselbrand.
“. . . vessel . . . seed of evil . . . annihilation . . .”
She shook the voices out of her head, but a strange music entered her mind, a peculiar humming that followed some simple melody. She inhaled the wickedness of the Ashmouth and tried to calm herself, smearing blood from her hands onto the stones, which lightly sizzled from infernal heat. The Planeswalker closed her eyes, and let the otherworldly music calm her.
Then she realized that the music didn’t come from the Veil.
She opened her eyes and gathered mana from the marshes of Innistrad to her.
A tall, white-hair vampire stood before her, an impressive broadsword sheathed at his hip. She immediately noticed his throat moving, vocalizing the hum she heard.
“Get out,” she snarled, amplifying it with magic and invoking a fear spell.
“I am a friend,” the vampire answered, stopping his song but remaining stationary.
“I don’t have friends here.”
“You destroyed Griselbrand and released Avacyn. If not a friend, you have earned an ally.” She glared at him, wiping her bloodied hands on her purple corset while blood continued her seep from the demon-scrawl, an aftereffect of murdering one of her masters. The man continued: “I am Sorin Markov, one like you, in many ways. I am from this plane, but I travel to others. The dark arts sing to me, as they do you, and I know what it is to devote myself to personal causes. Some may call me selfish; I suspect you are accused similarly.”
Liliana focused her thoughts, stifling her tears and ignoring the pain. She readied a handful of spells—ghoul-summoning, pain, mind-rot, whatever may come in handy.
“Avacyn was my creation,” Sorin continued, taking a cautionary step towards her. “I thank you for releasing her. Her creation was necessary to balance Innistrad. I am a pariah among the vampires, and my penchant for feeding keeps the humans away. I noticed your power and wanted to introduce myself.”
“Why?” Sorin stepped closer, and crouched next to her. She did not see lust in his eyes, and Liliana knew that look well. He did not want her body, and maybe not her blood. “How ancient are you?” she asked.
His thin lips smiled. “Older than you, but I suspect you knew what real power was. Before the temporal disaster on Dominaria.”
Liliana involuntarily pulled away. How did he know that?
“Why else would you make bargains with demons?” She did not respond. “That is the reason for the markings and their boons, yes? You worked to maintain your power after the Mending that weakened us. I recognize some of those markings.”
Relying on her beauty, Liliana smiled, imbuing herself with some spells of seduction. “I have made my choices.”
“Here,” Sorin whispered, extending his hand, “allow me.”
Liliana femininely placed her hand in Sorin’s sure fingers, and his throat emitted another hum. His fingers began massaging her blood-soaked hand, and she realized her mistake. This creature was a vampire.
He seemed to read her mind. “Don’t struggle. I can assist. I am not here to prey on you, my dear lady.”
The song emerged again, and she felt the tattoos pulse on her arms, across her chest, on her face. Blood dripped from them, and she closed her eyes. The pain subsided, even if the bleeding didn’t. Sorin’s song-magic worked on her skin and delved into her. The sensation was arousing in its own fashion, but Liliana did not feel violated. She did not even recoil when fingers from his other hand set themselves on her shoulder and neck. The music soon faded, and Liliana opened her eyes.
Sorin’s tongue wetted his lips, but he was not imaging feasting on her. She could tell he had absorbed the sustenance he needed from her blood through magic. The tattoos faded, leaving her body smeared in crimson.
“Why?” she inquired.
“A token of appreciation for freeing Avacyn and for leading me to the pain artist. That was you as well, was it not, leaving clues?” Liliana did not respond—honestly, she had done so to throw off Garruk, who continued to pursue her. She figured the half-devil would give any pursuers a challenge and leave her free to hunt. “I do not know the artifact you carry, but I can tell it is potent. Know that you have allies when you need them . . . I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”
She considered lying, but indulged the vampire further. “Liliana Vess.”
“Allies are around us, Liliana. Some planes and plots require assistance and for us to act in the greater good of existence.” Then he chuckled: “And other planes can go to hell.” Liliana nodded her agreement. “Recent events elsewhere have reminded me of our responsibilities as Planeswalkers - when we are not absorbed in our own ends. Find me if you need me. I’ve neglected others to the detriment of existence. I think we need to stand for something sometimes. Especially after the Mending. So few of us know what true power is any more. Travel safely, Planeswalker.”
Then Sorin stood, stepped back, and winked out of existence.
Emotion caught in Liliana’s throat, and an urge to sob rose in her again. What the hell was going on in the Multiverse? Had Sorin said he recognized one of her masters? It did not matter. She needed to be rid of the Veil before it broke her sanity and possessed her. Before her next act of murderous retribution, she needed to return it to Shandalar.
She needed to be her own woman once again.
No more masters.
No more demons.
Thank you all for reading! I welcome any and all comments, questions, feedback, and critiques.
I do have a much more involved Mirrodin fiction I'd like to post if I know some people would be interested in reading; let me know.
I did not read Innistrad's story, but if you don't mind, I would say my opinion stands like this:
- I liked your characterization of the world, it felt dark and ghotic, which I suppose is the way Innistrad should feel.
- The bits I enjoyed the most were the first story with Garruk and the start of a characterization of Tibalt.
I like the way you represented Liliana, though I believe there was more erotic wording than necessary. Not sure about she trying to seduce Geralf, who seems to be a mad man, but I understand some tension when in the presence of Sorin.
Sorin's characterization I believe it could be a little bit better, he felt too much like a good guy in general to me, not someone more neutral and selfish as I believe he should be. When I think of Sorin it comes to mind something like the flavor text of Sorin's Vengeance, so I believe he lacked that wit.
I liked that you let very clear Tibalt never had a chance to beat Sorin, but somehow I think you've mentioned too much of planeswalking in your story, when it seems to be something that is rarely described in walkers stories. You know what would have been cool? If instead of Sorin disappearing out of existence he turned into a bat and flew away, ha! And to differentiate it could have been a white bat, bigger than most. I don't know, in my mind sounds elegant, haha.
Not much to say on Tamiyo and the rest of the story, since I think there were lot of tie-ins in the storyline that I didn't catch because I didn't read it. Maybe a problem to write something like that here is exactly that for people to fully appreciate the scope of your work they should also read the main storyline, which is more difficult
But keep it up man! When you finish the Mirrodin Prequel I will check it out!
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
Thanks for the feedback. When I first wrote this (which occurred well before I posted it), I had planned to keep it to about 4,000 words (the size of a standard Uncharted Realms article at the time). Since then, URs have increased in size. Also, since the stories exist (links in my original post), I didn't want to tread over existing material. Ideally, if there would have been any real reason to flesh it out, I would have included Garruk's duel with Liliana and more Geralf and Gisa interaction, along with Liliana's use of Thalia and destruction of Griselbrand. My goal was to create as little as possible while threading together existing plots or characters and fitting them into continuity.
I really wanted Sorin's song magic (a continuation from Teeth of Akoum, along with his rot-inducing broadsword), and with Sorin coming fresh off of Zendikar to Innistrad, I decided to highlight more of his white-mana/balance side than his vengeance. I can understand how we'd want to see that. However, since Liliana did free Avacyn, I thought some thanks was in order (and he was able to feed a bit--if only magically rather than actually drinking her blood).
As for Liliana's sexualization, I went back to her seductress roots. Also, I like the idea that she has relied so much on her sex appeal that even if she does not love a person, she knows seducing a man may get her what she wants. And, she may not pass up a good time, even if the guy is crazy. Well--except she will pass it up, because she has bigger things to worry about. My intention of her sexualization was a move toward a lost soul; she does what she does because that is who she had been, to get what she needed at the time. Now she falls back on those habits.
For Tamiyo, she received no screentime in any Innistrad fiction, so my portrayal of her here is pure fiction. I liked the concept of an interracial and intergenerational and interplanar relationship between Tamiyo and Jenrik.
I'll be heading over to your Innistrad work shortly.
I forgot to mention, but interesting that you introduced Tibalt vs Sorin in the story given that people back in the Magic Storyline forum were saying that it wasn't even clear if they had ever faced each other. Now they have, hehe.
I also understood a little bit more of your philosophy here, and I'll be curious to see some piece of yours in which you try to create new storylines as well, not only connect threads together (which is also great, but it does restrict your liberty). If that happens, let me know. And I think it goes without saying that I found it very well written, it is clear that you have experience in writing. Good job man.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
My Mirrodin story is very much my own work. It won't contradict anything in canon, and it will help Glissa get from an anti-Karn Phyrexian (as portrayed in the Planeswalker Guide) to the pro-Karn acolyte (as seen in Quest for Karn). I think you'll see what I do with some more freedom in the Magic multiverse with "Machinations on Mirrodin."
I'm glad my explanations of Liliana and Sorin made sense, but if it didn't make sense in the story itself, that was a failing on my part.
My time to write is usually limited, and I usually end up with some more academic writing, so creative writing is a slow and steady process for me!