On the rolling Kabira plains, a shadow rippled across the golden-green grass. At first glance, an unwary observer might have assumed that this darkened mass was simply the shadow of Emeria, the Sky Ruin, drifting past the sun. Or perhaps a swarm of Glint Hawks, scouring the plains with their eagle eyes for something shiny. Or even a Baneslayer Angel, soaring through the clouds with unmatched aerial prowess. But no. The shadow cast for an untold number of restless days came from something far more sinister. Something far beyond the command of the noble and beautiful Elspeth Tirel, or even the fiery and impatient Koth of the Hammer.
This evil presence had many names, but most knew of it as Emrakul, a great mass of tentacles, like a floating jellyfish but unbelievably huge. It was the leader of the alien Eldrazi tribe — a race of strange creatures encroaching upon the world of men.
Or, as Koth affectionately called it, the most absurd of all absurd fatties.
Koth of the Hammer sighed, pacing back and forth near the edge of Elspeth Tirel's war camp. He had been commanding his goblin forces in tandem with Elspeth's troops, and he didn't like it. Yet he found this a better alternative than to face the Eldrazi alone. He longed for the fierce battles of ages past, a time when honor meant something, when his men had to navigate Lightfield Mines, courageously and steadfastly waging bloody battles against the invulnerable Firewalkers. It was a different kind of war now. A war fought in the expanding and alien jungles that exist beyond his fiery mountains. It was simply unfair. Hammers had no place in this type of warfare. Goblins nullified by walls of overgrowth, armies destroyed by clouds of hazardous dust. Even from here, the terrible roar of a Primeval Titan echoed far off in the distance, new growth created in its wake.
Yes, it was an unlikely alliance — goblins and knights working side by side, the goblins sharing their crude jokes with the pristine chevaliers, or the best way to eat a fried rat, and in turn, the knights showing the goblins how to use forks and take a bath. Elspeth Tirel had agreed to join forces with Koth out of necessity. His guides, an elite unit of goblins, at least had some ability to navigate the alien jungles swiftly. Her own forces would be too slow and inconsistent without them. And, she had to admit, she felt a certain something the last time she saw Koth fighting valiantly. None of her men were brave enough to fight a Wurmcoil on their own, but Koth had summoned from the mountains a torrent of fire, and blasted one to pieces before it reached their camp with its life-sucking blades.
On the other hand, Koth's motivations were far more simple. He just wanted to hammer something. Burn something. Or even convince himself that he was hammering or burning. Therein lies the problem, something he'd mulled over for awhile. How does one hammer an absurd fatty such as Kozilek, the Butcher of Truth? You'd have to be riding one of Elspeth's pegasi just to hit anything higher than its toenail. And Koth hated pegasi — ever since that nightmare about a Mesa spawning an endless number of them, until the sky turned white with their shining wings.
Not too far away, a Glint Hawk swooped down and landed upon Elspeth's armored shoulder, glancing at its master with its golden eyes. It then snatched her brand new Mox Opal hanging from her breastplate with its razor-sharp talons and, before she could respond, flew off with a flurry of wings. Elspeth Tirel sighed, but she knew her hawk would return with her treasure at some point. She again focused her gaze on Koth.
“How is everything?” she asked.
Elspeth Tirel removed her helmet, letting her copper-colored hair flow down and blow in the breeze. She approached the brooding Koth as he stood watching the mountains in the distance. Then she winced. Koth was staring at a particular range of peaks known as the Molten Pinnacles. Koth never mentioned it to anyone, but whispers traveled between goblin and men about the anger he felt toward that mountain range — anger and impotence. The Molten Pinnacles were the finest examples of fiery, smoke-enshrouded crags in all the land, yet they were attuned to the alien Eldrazi — not Koth.
“I've lost another unit,” Koth said. “Only one of my guides made it back. He reported an absurd fatty appearing out of thin air, right before their very noses. It was a Trap. They didn't even have a chance...”
“I'm sorry,” she said. “We will continue to gather our forces.”
“It's no use.”
Koth continued to stare off into the plains.
“Where are your friends now? Jace, and Venser?”
“They're waiting,” she said. “The same as us.”
“No,” he says. “They're hiding, cowering, on a distant island, or in a far-off glacial fort. They plan no great attack. Real men fight, or meet the enemy on the field of battle, singing their death song, killing or being killed. To lurk at the edge of battle, hiding behind their walls... that's colder and slimier than the Mulldrifters they conjure forth.”
Elspeth lowered her eyes, understanding what he must feel. A growing kinship with an enemy had never come to her before; out of circumstance, or what, she really didn't know. She smiled as she remembered the reason for her visit.
“Koth,” she said. “I want to show you something.”
Koth's eyes narrowed. He had felt that she had something up her sleeve for awhile now. Yet what might turn the tables? What could possibly give them an advantage against an evil that could not be matched upon the battlefield?
He tore his eyes away from the crimson mountains and looked at Elspeth plaintively. Nearby, his goblin chieftains were beginning a tribal ritual of songs and dances, arm-in-arm with many Kor Firewalkers, in a sad attempt at bolstering morale within their armies — but Koth was in no mood for rabble-rousing. He nodded, following Elspeth across the war camp, into a large tent. And that was when Koth's Hopes were Dashed.
At the opposite end of the tent, sitting upon a mysterious throne, sat an enormous cat, a feline as large as a man. This creature was obviously powerful, for beneath him hovered a retinue of lesser cat-men, subservient and awaiting his order. It tapped its fingers upon the arm of the throne in obvious boredom.
“A cat?” Koth asked, as they made their way inside. He was beginning to lose all hope. A smoldering chuckle welled up inside of him. “So, this is your secret weapon, Tirel? A herd of cats? That's your plan then? Humoring the enemy? Perhaps you'll use them as a distraction. I'm sure the great Ulamog will enjoy juggling your cats high into the air...”
“Hush,” she said. “They are the Leonin. A powerful ally. They hold power over the land. A method similar to the Land Taxes of so long ago...”
“Impossible,” said Koth. “Those days are over and will never be seen again. You waste my time.”
The regal cat-man's eyes glowed yellow in the dim light of the tent. Its servants spread before Koth and Elspeth, allowing them passage. Elspeth Tirel sighed. The two Planeswalkers reached the foot of the throne, where Elspeth knelt before the majestic figure.
“Oh great ally, how I am thankful for your assistance during such times.”
“We are siding with the likes of him?” it boomed, in a dark voice. “A creature born of the fiery earth? I remember the times when our villages were razed, blistering lava-beasts roaming our plains, selectively incinerating kittens and old strays.”
Koth glowered, and hefted his fearsome hammer threateningly.
“Choose your words carefully, fuzzball,” he said. “Lest I forge that pink tongue of yours into something more useful.”
“Enough!” shouted Elspeth, stepping in front of Koth, turning to him, and then whirling around to meet the cat-man's gaze. “We have a new enemy. One that does not come from our world. One that does not fight a fair fight.”
Koth was not convinced.
“What possible weapon do you have against the enemy?” he asked. “Against the absurd fatties of incomparable power? The mountains that constantly burn, spewing ash and flame upon any who dare assault them? We are doomed.”
Koth didn't know if he were imagining this, but he thought he could see a slight smile on the Leonin's whiskery face.
“We will halt their progress,” said the Leonin. “Through a process of arbitration. We will attack them at the root, and prevent their strange alien lands from spreading too fast. Even the absurd fatties, as you say, are subject to the Laws of the Land.”
Koth mulled over this idea. It seemed a tricky plan, something the white legions were known for at times. It mirrored his own — although a more direct one — and that was when he felt that he must show them his own weapon. Still, he could not believe such times have required such dire measures. Goblins working with cats. What has happened?
Koth nodded in agreement.
“Perhaps you will enjoy what I have to offer, then. Come.”
With a little coaxing from Elspeth, the Leonin tore himself from his throne and followed the two Planeswalkers from the tent, to the edge of the camp, and beyond this, to a small hill where there was a cave. Smoke issued forth from its jagged maw, and a crimson glow came from the depths.
Where Elspeth led Koth through her tent, now Koth ushered the two through the steamy tunnels, where it grew hotter and deeper, until they entered a vast chamber with pools of lava. Several imp-like creatures crouched near the pools — eyes filled with mischief, bodies made of glowing embers.
Elspeth looked worried.
“And what are they, then?” she asked.
“They are called the Ignus,” said Koth, kneeling down to one and petting the creature's spiky mane. “If the lands of the absurd fatties spread too quickly, these creatures, born of flame, will erupt from underneath, rejoicing at the yawning tectonic shifts, and igniting the jungles in celebration.”
Elspeth and the Leonin seemed to understand, although they truly could not grasp the full extent of the lava elemental's power — maybe they didn't need to. The path was now clear. In addition to these secret weapons were the Molten-Tail Masticores, and Inferno Titans, and all of the knights under Elspeth's command.
They had many options.
More importantly, they had a chance.
Koth hefted his hammer with renewed interest. The absurd fatties would die by his hand and be expunged from this world; he swore to himself. The power of the Molten Pinnacles would soon fall within his grasp.
Legend of Koth - You have a decent story here. While the action is more based on the characters than the plot, there's a full story here as well. What we don't have, though, is the unique plane that was asked for. This is Zendikar, not your own. With a less important note, these were Wizard's already established characters, not your own. I'd have liked to see more of something unique on your side. Still, it was an interesting way to use a few cards you seem to like, to connect them together and send them on their merry way.
Spelling and Grammar - 8/10. A few minor issues. Some commas were needed, others weren't. Some sentences that should have been combined. No big issues.
Characterization - 7/10. We get a good idea of who Koth is. Some of his motivations, and his way of thinking. Not much in the way of Elspeth. Or the Leonin. I got more of a 'character' from the Leonin than Elspeth, and he was barely in the story whatsoever. More description and more time are needed to get full marks here.
Plot - 8/10. We do have a bit of a plot here. A full mini-story in the midst of a full story. It's almost Man v Himself here, with Koth needing to find some hope. We need a few more details, a bit of a bigger climax than the Leonin (which fell flat, in my opinion), to get full points.
Style - 8/10. A few cards mentioned by name. But more importantly, used in the story as actual descriptions or plot points. The hawk stealing a Mox Opal because it's shiny? Fun, both for players and readers alike. Actually using the cards as plot points? More so.
Prompt - 5/10. You gave me a story, but not a plane of your own. I'd need a unique one to give you full points here.
Pretty sure it's a troll, because not only does he have a large number of infractions and such, but saying "absurd fatties" and that kinda thing as well as pretty blatantly ignoring the prompt, I mean come on. Just in case, though, I'll review it.
Adherence to Prompt: 1/10 - No new plane, very little story which is 100% dependent on existing material. There was pretty much no original thought, and to me that was the point of the prompt: come up with your own plane and your own characters and storyline. This was not followed at all, even though there is technically a story.
Plot and Tempo: 7/10 - Reasonable tempo. Plot is I suppose acceptable although based on Zendikar. Despite the lack of originality in terms of plane and all, the plot isn't really that bad at all.
Writing Style and Identity: 5/10 - I really dislike the referring to cards by name thing, although since you're supposed to basically make a story within the MTG universe I guess it's ok. It doesn't take much style, though: anyone can do it. And of course, saying stuff like fatties doesn't really fit in. Mechanically though, it's not bad.
Characterization: 7/10 - Eh, Elspeth is characterized just a bit, and Koth to a much larger extent. Even the leonin is characterized a little bit. But in the end, none are really fleshed out at all besides Koth, and even he is only done so pretty bluntly. Barely squeaks by to a 7 because while he is simple character, we can understand Koth and are shown his point of view fully.
Grammar/Spelling: 9/10 - Just enough errors to occasionally be annoying. Really not that bad though.
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This evil presence had many names, but most knew of it as Emrakul, a great mass of tentacles, like a floating jellyfish but unbelievably huge. It was the leader of the alien Eldrazi tribe — a race of strange creatures encroaching upon the world of men.
Or, as Koth affectionately called it, the most absurd of all absurd fatties.
Koth of the Hammer sighed, pacing back and forth near the edge of Elspeth Tirel's war camp. He had been commanding his goblin forces in tandem with Elspeth's troops, and he didn't like it. Yet he found this a better alternative than to face the Eldrazi alone. He longed for the fierce battles of ages past, a time when honor meant something, when his men had to navigate Lightfield Mines, courageously and steadfastly waging bloody battles against the invulnerable Firewalkers. It was a different kind of war now. A war fought in the expanding and alien jungles that exist beyond his fiery mountains. It was simply unfair. Hammers had no place in this type of warfare. Goblins nullified by walls of overgrowth, armies destroyed by clouds of hazardous dust. Even from here, the terrible roar of a Primeval Titan echoed far off in the distance, new growth created in its wake.
Yes, it was an unlikely alliance — goblins and knights working side by side, the goblins sharing their crude jokes with the pristine chevaliers, or the best way to eat a fried rat, and in turn, the knights showing the goblins how to use forks and take a bath. Elspeth Tirel had agreed to join forces with Koth out of necessity. His guides, an elite unit of goblins, at least had some ability to navigate the alien jungles swiftly. Her own forces would be too slow and inconsistent without them. And, she had to admit, she felt a certain something the last time she saw Koth fighting valiantly. None of her men were brave enough to fight a Wurmcoil on their own, but Koth had summoned from the mountains a torrent of fire, and blasted one to pieces before it reached their camp with its life-sucking blades.
On the other hand, Koth's motivations were far more simple. He just wanted to hammer something. Burn something. Or even convince himself that he was hammering or burning. Therein lies the problem, something he'd mulled over for awhile. How does one hammer an absurd fatty such as Kozilek, the Butcher of Truth? You'd have to be riding one of Elspeth's pegasi just to hit anything higher than its toenail. And Koth hated pegasi — ever since that nightmare about a Mesa spawning an endless number of them, until the sky turned white with their shining wings.
Not too far away, a Glint Hawk swooped down and landed upon Elspeth's armored shoulder, glancing at its master with its golden eyes. It then snatched her brand new Mox Opal hanging from her breastplate with its razor-sharp talons and, before she could respond, flew off with a flurry of wings. Elspeth Tirel sighed, but she knew her hawk would return with her treasure at some point. She again focused her gaze on Koth.
“How is everything?” she asked.
Elspeth Tirel removed her helmet, letting her copper-colored hair flow down and blow in the breeze. She approached the brooding Koth as he stood watching the mountains in the distance. Then she winced. Koth was staring at a particular range of peaks known as the Molten Pinnacles. Koth never mentioned it to anyone, but whispers traveled between goblin and men about the anger he felt toward that mountain range — anger and impotence. The Molten Pinnacles were the finest examples of fiery, smoke-enshrouded crags in all the land, yet they were attuned to the alien Eldrazi — not Koth.
“I've lost another unit,” Koth said. “Only one of my guides made it back. He reported an absurd fatty appearing out of thin air, right before their very noses. It was a Trap. They didn't even have a chance...”
“I'm sorry,” she said. “We will continue to gather our forces.”
“It's no use.”
Koth continued to stare off into the plains.
“Where are your friends now? Jace, and Venser?”
“They're waiting,” she said. “The same as us.”
“No,” he says. “They're hiding, cowering, on a distant island, or in a far-off glacial fort. They plan no great attack. Real men fight, or meet the enemy on the field of battle, singing their death song, killing or being killed. To lurk at the edge of battle, hiding behind their walls... that's colder and slimier than the Mulldrifters they conjure forth.”
Elspeth lowered her eyes, understanding what he must feel. A growing kinship with an enemy had never come to her before; out of circumstance, or what, she really didn't know. She smiled as she remembered the reason for her visit.
“Koth,” she said. “I want to show you something.”
Koth's eyes narrowed. He had felt that she had something up her sleeve for awhile now. Yet what might turn the tables? What could possibly give them an advantage against an evil that could not be matched upon the battlefield?
He tore his eyes away from the crimson mountains and looked at Elspeth plaintively. Nearby, his goblin chieftains were beginning a tribal ritual of songs and dances, arm-in-arm with many Kor Firewalkers, in a sad attempt at bolstering morale within their armies — but Koth was in no mood for rabble-rousing. He nodded, following Elspeth across the war camp, into a large tent. And that was when Koth's Hopes were Dashed.
At the opposite end of the tent, sitting upon a mysterious throne, sat an enormous cat, a feline as large as a man. This creature was obviously powerful, for beneath him hovered a retinue of lesser cat-men, subservient and awaiting his order. It tapped its fingers upon the arm of the throne in obvious boredom.
“A cat?” Koth asked, as they made their way inside. He was beginning to lose all hope. A smoldering chuckle welled up inside of him. “So, this is your secret weapon, Tirel? A herd of cats? That's your plan then? Humoring the enemy? Perhaps you'll use them as a distraction. I'm sure the great Ulamog will enjoy juggling your cats high into the air...”
“Hush,” she said. “They are the Leonin. A powerful ally. They hold power over the land. A method similar to the Land Taxes of so long ago...”
“Impossible,” said Koth. “Those days are over and will never be seen again. You waste my time.”
The regal cat-man's eyes glowed yellow in the dim light of the tent. Its servants spread before Koth and Elspeth, allowing them passage. Elspeth Tirel sighed. The two Planeswalkers reached the foot of the throne, where Elspeth knelt before the majestic figure.
“Oh great ally, how I am thankful for your assistance during such times.”
“We are siding with the likes of him?” it boomed, in a dark voice. “A creature born of the fiery earth? I remember the times when our villages were razed, blistering lava-beasts roaming our plains, selectively incinerating kittens and old strays.”
Koth glowered, and hefted his fearsome hammer threateningly.
“Choose your words carefully, fuzzball,” he said. “Lest I forge that pink tongue of yours into something more useful.”
“Enough!” shouted Elspeth, stepping in front of Koth, turning to him, and then whirling around to meet the cat-man's gaze. “We have a new enemy. One that does not come from our world. One that does not fight a fair fight.”
Koth was not convinced.
“What possible weapon do you have against the enemy?” he asked. “Against the absurd fatties of incomparable power? The mountains that constantly burn, spewing ash and flame upon any who dare assault them? We are doomed.”
Koth didn't know if he were imagining this, but he thought he could see a slight smile on the Leonin's whiskery face.
“We will halt their progress,” said the Leonin. “Through a process of arbitration. We will attack them at the root, and prevent their strange alien lands from spreading too fast. Even the absurd fatties, as you say, are subject to the Laws of the Land.”
Koth mulled over this idea. It seemed a tricky plan, something the white legions were known for at times. It mirrored his own — although a more direct one — and that was when he felt that he must show them his own weapon. Still, he could not believe such times have required such dire measures. Goblins working with cats. What has happened?
Koth nodded in agreement.
“Perhaps you will enjoy what I have to offer, then. Come.”
With a little coaxing from Elspeth, the Leonin tore himself from his throne and followed the two Planeswalkers from the tent, to the edge of the camp, and beyond this, to a small hill where there was a cave. Smoke issued forth from its jagged maw, and a crimson glow came from the depths.
Where Elspeth led Koth through her tent, now Koth ushered the two through the steamy tunnels, where it grew hotter and deeper, until they entered a vast chamber with pools of lava. Several imp-like creatures crouched near the pools — eyes filled with mischief, bodies made of glowing embers.
Elspeth looked worried.
“And what are they, then?” she asked.
“They are called the Ignus,” said Koth, kneeling down to one and petting the creature's spiky mane. “If the lands of the absurd fatties spread too quickly, these creatures, born of flame, will erupt from underneath, rejoicing at the yawning tectonic shifts, and igniting the jungles in celebration.”
Elspeth and the Leonin seemed to understand, although they truly could not grasp the full extent of the lava elemental's power — maybe they didn't need to. The path was now clear. In addition to these secret weapons were the Molten-Tail Masticores, and Inferno Titans, and all of the knights under Elspeth's command.
They had many options.
More importantly, they had a chance.
Koth hefted his hammer with renewed interest. The absurd fatties would die by his hand and be expunged from this world; he swore to himself. The power of the Molten Pinnacles would soon fall within his grasp.
Spelling and Grammar - 8/10. A few minor issues. Some commas were needed, others weren't. Some sentences that should have been combined. No big issues.
Characterization - 7/10. We get a good idea of who Koth is. Some of his motivations, and his way of thinking. Not much in the way of Elspeth. Or the Leonin. I got more of a 'character' from the Leonin than Elspeth, and he was barely in the story whatsoever. More description and more time are needed to get full marks here.
Plot - 8/10. We do have a bit of a plot here. A full mini-story in the midst of a full story. It's almost Man v Himself here, with Koth needing to find some hope. We need a few more details, a bit of a bigger climax than the Leonin (which fell flat, in my opinion), to get full points.
Style - 8/10. A few cards mentioned by name. But more importantly, used in the story as actual descriptions or plot points. The hawk stealing a Mox Opal because it's shiny? Fun, both for players and readers alike. Actually using the cards as plot points? More so.
Prompt - 5/10. You gave me a story, but not a plane of your own. I'd need a unique one to give you full points here.
My helpdesk should you need me.
Adherence to Prompt: 1/10 - No new plane, very little story which is 100% dependent on existing material. There was pretty much no original thought, and to me that was the point of the prompt: come up with your own plane and your own characters and storyline. This was not followed at all, even though there is technically a story.
Plot and Tempo: 7/10 - Reasonable tempo. Plot is I suppose acceptable although based on Zendikar. Despite the lack of originality in terms of plane and all, the plot isn't really that bad at all.
Writing Style and Identity: 5/10 - I really dislike the referring to cards by name thing, although since you're supposed to basically make a story within the MTG universe I guess it's ok. It doesn't take much style, though: anyone can do it. And of course, saying stuff like fatties doesn't really fit in. Mechanically though, it's not bad.
Characterization: 7/10 - Eh, Elspeth is characterized just a bit, and Koth to a much larger extent. Even the leonin is characterized a little bit. But in the end, none are really fleshed out at all besides Koth, and even he is only done so pretty bluntly. Barely squeaks by to a 7 because while he is simple character, we can understand Koth and are shown his point of view fully.
Grammar/Spelling: 9/10 - Just enough errors to occasionally be annoying. Really not that bad though.