Just tooling around making nifty schwag for @Hackworth's next event. I used Faber Castell's line of Pitt artist pens and started with a blank white playmat. We didn't want the mat to be too distracting, so I just did the background in fairly neutral colors and kept the girl mostly grayscale so it wouldn't be tied to or telegraphing a certain color of mana, or particular guild, etc. I like how she turned out looking kind of ghostly or artifactual.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Playmat Eye Candy
Just tooling around making nifty schwag for @Hackworth's next event. I used Faber Castell's line of Pitt artist pens and started with a blank white playmat. We didn't want the mat to be too distracting, so I just did the background in fairly neutral colors and kept the girl mostly grayscale so it wouldn't be tied to or telegraphing a certain color of mana, or particular guild, etc. I like how she turned out looking kind of ghostly or artifactual.
Friday, September 28, 2012
A Very Merry !@#$% #mtg Halloween
So I'm a bit frustrated. I've always loved loved loved Halloween and used to put a lot of time and money into it. Now, I have no time and less dispensable income to dump into looking like Rei Ayanami. Last year I didn't do *bleep* for the holiday. My son was too young to get it, so we just skipped the whole thing. This year we're taking him trick-or-treating with a friend. She's going to be a Scarecrow, and he picked out a really cute Dragon costume today that I will pimp with some homemade additions.
I would really like to do a Magic related costume, but most are so complicated I just know I can't invest the time to make it look good. And complicated generally means expensive, too.
Now, I don't care about race when designing costumes. But different haircolor means wig, which means $$ outlay. Changing skin tones to Moonfolk white or Merfolk blue also are a pain I'm not going to endure. Angel wings won't fit in our tiny Toyota Matrix.
Practical issues! Parenthood! What?! Ach, can't complain. #vorthospeopleproblems.
So. Question. Do I cave and just do Azusa? Do you have better ideas? Would a Kamigawa chick be lazy and selling out or would it be nice? Am I overlooking some options?
Please comment or tweet @moxymtg and let me know. Thanks.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Fifty Shades of Prey : 2
What seemed like years later, a
thickset intruder entered the hut. I concluded that the other two had both died
in the fight over me and this third claimant to power had ascended. This one
had the joyless, blocky walk of a Pillarfield Ox. His muscular stride carried him
far too efficiently to my dark corner, and he put his freezing palms under my
armpits and hauled me outside. Pushing me to a kneeling position before him, he
took out a knife.
His only acknowledgment of my
sentience was a quick nod. A flick of the eyes. Then he stabbed me between my
shoulder and my neck. I can’t remember if I screamed.
He shoved me face down into the
earth in front of him and straddled me from behind. I felt his rough leather
breeches chafe my hips, pinning me down. He leaned to one side and put his
mouth to my flesh. Then he drank me.
The nausea was debilitating. The
earth undulated beneath me and reverberated deep within my bones. Then I was
floating above myself, seeing a fragile-looking, fair-skinned girl pinned
beneath a muscular body festooned with bonelike hooks at the shoulders and
elbows. My assailant had crimson streaks in his long hair and his body arched
and relaxed rhythmically with his drinking. I marveled at how small I was and
how menacing was he. I had always been pale—my mother attributing it to more Kor
blood than human in our line—but now I was ghastly white.
“We were better off before,” I
heard a Vampire say in passing. “Norwion had his deviant interest in young
humans, but Worgon is a glutton beyond redemption.” Its comrade chuckled.
“Look. He didn’t even bite her. He
had to have it gushing from a knife wound.” More laughter, stifled but derisive,
as their footsteps fell quickly away.
Worgon didn’t seem to notice. The
sloppy manner and vehemence with which he was consuming my plasma confirmed the
words of his peers. I was losing consciousness. Slivers of hope and plans for escape
slipped my mind like the tadpoles that eluded my fingers when I was very, very
young playing in the river.
His weight and strength grew as I
weakened. I felt my breasts press into the rough earth and dreamt that I heard Aklua laugh. How could you leave without me, I chided him, winking. Just rest now, Lisra. I wanted to follow him. Aklua…?
Laughter. Very deep and rich,
richer than Aklua’s that was like coffee beans falling in a Roil storm. Laughter
like black silk on black velvet. Laughter like dancing shadows in a void.
Laughter that filled me with a visceral desire to open my eyes. I did, and saw dirt stained dark with my own blood.
Worgon’s leg was braced between my
thighs and I felt him tense and lift his head. The moment his repulsive sucking
stopped, the pain crashed into me. It was a red wave of jellyfish at high tide,
salt and lightning drowning me. To my shame, I heard myself whimper.
“Worgon,” said the rich voice, “Wipe
your face.” I felt Worgon switch to a crouching stance above me. Something soft
landed on the ground next to my shoulder. An intense curiosity overcame the
chill of impending death and I opened one eye. The object that had fallen to
earth was an ornate white lace handkerchief.
“You!” Worgon said in a voice
wet with trembling rage. “We are not beholden to you, anymore! You swore!” He
sounded afraid.
“Not beholden. But you are
holding something that I desire, Worgon.” The deep-voiced stranger chuckled at
his own joke. I remember thinking that the joke wasn’t particularly funny.
“We will slay you too, Betrayer,”
Worgon declared, and let out a tribal whoop. Dark shapes emerged at the edges
of the confrontation. I heard a few answering whoops. There were many, many
Vampires.
“No,” the stranger said.
He laughed. It lingered on the air. The shadows in the jungle lengthened and
drew towards his voice. I could not raise my head to see him, but I felt the
tremor of some kind of awful power as it fled the trees and the earth in favor
of the stranger.
Worgon stumbled, his knee hitting
me sharply in the small of my back. I had no idea what happened, as he clearly
hadn’t been struck a blow. Yet, I felt his weakness in the uncertainty of his
stance as he once again took a standing position over me.
“Come now, surely we can all be
friends,” the stranger said. I felt joy at the mockery in his voice.
Worgon shrieked incoherently. From
the corner of my eye I saw dozens of dark Vampire shapes as they flung
themselves from the perimeter toward the stranger. There was a chuckle, and
then a quick, sharp, guttural boom of words. The air sizzled and I smelled
blood, then smoke on the wind. Worgon’s dagger dropped near my left hand.
Without thinking, I snatched it and through sheer force of will rolled onto my
back, praying to catch him in another misstep and stab him someplace vital.
There was only the night sky above
me. The cool air of the jungle caressed my skin. I clutched the dagger in my
hand, straining to hear the sound of Vampires approaching.
“Don’t bother,” said the stranger,
his rich voice nearly right on top of me. He muttered some arcane words. My
body went numb. The pain was gone, but I realized I could move naught but my
eyes. My fear choked me. A tall, darkly clad figure walked around me and to the
doorway of my family’s home.
His hands were covered in blood—thickly,
as though he had slain many enemies with just his palms and fingers. I marveled
at this, knowing I’d heard no hand-to-hand combat in the battle just now. He
stopped in front of our wash basin that stood to the right of the now-gaping
doorway, and paused. I saw him bow his head, and beneath his black leather
jerkin and velvet cloak I thought a tremble crossed his broad shoulders. But
then the moon emerged from behind a wisp of cloud and the light danced on his
white hair and I couldn’t be sure what I’d seen.
He washed his hands meticulously
in the basin, taking his time, and dried them on another white handkerchief
that he seemed to pull from nowhere. He regarded the fabric for a moment, then
tossed it on the ground with disgust. He smoothed his long white hair down over
his ears. Then he turned towards me.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Fifty Shades of Prey : 1
His hands were covered
in blood when I first saw him. He shuddered, for he thought no one was
watching. But I was.
It is—was—customary in my tribe to marry early. The
jungles of Bala Ged are feral and unforgiving, and the phrase “life is short” takes
on a sharp new meaning there. Life and Death are close, intertwined. Light and
dark play together to make the most beautiful patterns on the jungle floor.
Restoration and consumption are happening all around you, every moment of every
day.
Your tribe has the
luxury of a prolonged adolescence; you are children in terms of ability long into adulthood. My tribe is—was—made up of refugees, and our
children were taught to live rather than wait for life. You
may think us uncivilized, even barbaric, but we were never useless.
We lived on the shores of waterways. My mother would tell me
frightening stories of Surrakar to keep me in my bed, and my father would wake
before dawn to cut vines for utilitarian purposes, like fishing—before the
baloth and such were likely awake. Our tribe was not very old. The village
Elders said we were a mixed lineage, with human outcasts from Affa and Kor
outcasts from everywhere seeding our blood.
My days would go somewhat like this: wake at first light,
help my mother prepare the first meal (often dried fruit and boiled snake egg),
then domestic chores such as mending my father’s and brothers’ clothes, then
preparing second meal (fish and seedcakes), then lessons with the village
matron (these ranged from how to style a man’s hair to mathematics for
efficient trade with outsiders). Third meal was always prepared by the males of
the tribe in a huge bonfire in the middle of the village. Roasted giant
scorpion was my favorite. My brother Aklua’s favorite was baloth trotters. The
women would sing at the bonfires, and my mother’s voice always rang out
distinctly. She had a strong voice, deep like the sea and powerful as the Roil
wind.
In your years I would be…twenty. I sat before the bonfire
with the flames warming my cheeks and turning my skin pink. The shadows danced
across my skin. I was very aware that night because I had just completed an
important ritual, and was wearing only clumps of marsh leaves. The boys across from
me were staring, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was to remain silent
for the rest of the night, and let the seed sway my mind. The sacred seed had
tasted like dung, but made my head buzz like it was full of lightning flies.
The marsh plants hung wetly on the vulnerable places of my body. Ritual dress was minimal. I could feel the hot air of the fire creep up my thighs and
across my breasts.
There was a boy across the fire and his eyes were green. He
was staring more than the others. His name was Rikuhle, and I thought him
beautiful. My mother was singing. I remember smiling at Rikuhle, despite it
being forbidden during ritual. He smiled back.
He was still smiling as a shadow engulfed his body and the
blood erupted from his neck. His eyes rolled back in his head and he finally
screamed—but it was cut off, far too short. Not comprehending, I looked past
what-was-once-Rikuhle to the horizon. More shadows descended from the west like
a wave, rolling through the village. I heard my mother’s song end abruptly, and
in an instant, all there was was terror.
I jumped to my feet, keeping low, as my mind registered we
were under attack. A wet hiss sounded from close by on my right, but I dropped
and rolled. The danger found another mark (I could tell by the brief outcry and
the gasp and ripping that followed) and I fled in the direction of our hut. The
metallic smell of blood was all around, and familiar voices pleaded for mercy
or help but were answered with the crunching of bone and terrible sucking
sounds.
Stumbling, I flung myself through the door of my family’s
hut and stopped, holding perfectly still. I thought I heard breathing, but my
heart pounded so loud in my ears that I wasn’t sure of anything except my own
terror.
“Lisra?” came Aklua’s voice. I almost retched with relief.
“Aklua. Mother...where’s Father?” I remember hating how my
voice was thin and weak and trembled in that moment.
“Sssh,” he said. Footsteps were outside the wall of the hut.
Far away, I heard an infant’s cry suddenly silenced. I pressed my hands over my
mouth and swore I would take my own life if I began to weep. Aklua moved
gracefully to my left. He had the stealthiest step, the most dexterous hands in
our village.
Something tore the reed door from our hut and flung it
aside. I felt rage, remembering that my father had woven an intricate pattern
into it to please my mother, had replaced our old door with it as a gift to her
for Year’s End celebration. My mother had cried when she saw it. It was the Long
Embrace weave. She whipped my foot once when I kicked that door in a tantrum. I
never did it again.
Aklua had our father’s spare spear in hand, the one with a
very large barbed head for hunting water-dwelling reptiles. Aklua sidestepped
and held very still near the wall. The strangest thing was that he winked at me.
I had always had good sight in the dark, I know he knew I could see it.
Then he turned and as the intruder stepped over the
threshold, Aklua hurled the spear at its chest. The intruder was very quick and
partially caught the spear, slowing its impact, but it still embedded in its
body with a thunk. I heard an awful
rasping indignant screech, and for a moment, hoped…but then a sodden wrenching
was followed by a thud as the spear fell to the floor.
The intruder held Aklua up in the air by his throat. Aklua
grasped at its fingers, gasped, and tried to kick its face. I huddled in the
shadows, trying not to scream. The fingers around Aklua’s neck tightened. I saw
how the ghastly white forearm was riddled with rich, dark veins. The next thing
I remember is Aklua’s head lying to one side, his legs dangling. The killer
bared its teeth and lunged forward. I saw its white profile, and its glittering
fangs, and thought them beautiful in a wild way. Then I threw up into my hands
and all was black for a moment.
Distant, distant screaming carried through the window of our
hut. A soft step approached. I wondered, as my head was bowed to the floor and
I smelled the dirt of my home mixed with acrid saliva, if the killer had known
where we were hiding all along. The shadows didn’t seem to impede the intruder’s
sight at all—he was moving directly towards me. I tried to force a calm into my
mind. My father had always told me that was what he did before hunting, and it
made all the difference between success and failure, between the family
starving and surviving.
“Don’t bother.” The words manifested so close to me in the
dark that I bit my tongue and drew blood. I was shocked to hear it was a female
voice, raspy and wet, but definitely feminine. I realized with shame that I had
clenched up my hand and was holding my breath. My intentions were obvious to my
assailant. “You’re a pretty thing, well,” she said.
A rustling of footsteps came to the threshold. I kept my
palms pressed to the dirt and my eyes down. The intruders all had the same
strange accent, but spoke our dialect. Their voices were like the wings of dark
birds aloft at night; black on black.
“She’s mine,” said Aklua’s killer.
“Pretty, of course you would,” said another, a male.
“Not much meat on’er. Yes, pretty, though,” said a third,
male.
“Bostik-Alur wrapped in tea leaves? What next, is someone going for
the pepar?” this voice was thin but sure of itself. I felt drops of sweat form
in my braided hair and run down from under the coils at my crown across my
temples and to the earth beneath me. I felt my body shudder and pass water.
“Look. She’s marinating herself,”
said the leader, with a high laugh. The others cackled as well. But not the
female, I noticed. I squeezed my eyes shut. I prayed that one of them would
kill me soon. Instead, a sinewy hand jerked me upright.
“Pretty,” smiled the
leader. He had red stained lips and large black eyes. He smelled of iron and I
turned my face away involuntarily. With a growl, he ripped my ritual garments
from my body. I tried to hold still but shivered as all of their eyes inspected
me from bottom to top. He put his long-fingered hand with its blackened
clawlike nails deep into my ceremonial hairstyle and tore it loose.
My hair fell out onto
my shoulders. This was something that in my tribe happened only between Partners.
I had once thought a green-eyed boy would take my hair down for me. It seemed a
long, long time ago.
The leader pressed his aquiline
nose and searching mouth against my jaw and moved his lips down under my ear
and to my neck. He inhaled deeply. His other hand was very cold and grasped the
flesh between my shoulder blades.
“Norwion. Said she’s mine,” the
female said. The leader stopped, then shoved me down onto the floor. Turning towards the female, he snarled.
“You try my patience, Ghet whore,”
he said. He licked his lips. I curled up and tried
to be small. The female looked down at me. I remember only very large, violet
eyes meeting mine before I ducked my head and covered myself with my arms and
crossed my legs.
“Try me outside then, Norwion,”
the female rasped. “Our law says we can claim what we slay. I took the life of
her male guardian, that means she is mine by right,” she turned and spat blood
on the floor. “But you know this, O leader. We tire of your sick ways and newly
invented feudal loyalty we s’posedly owe you.”
I heard the group whisper behind
the female. I felt a deep longing to know her name. The leader hissed and then
uttered a cry, and the fight was taken outside.
The desecrated remains of our home surrounded me, naked. I was left alone, but had nowhere to go.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
#SCGPORT = Rk Post-al Fun!
Starcity came to Portland last weekend and though I didn't play, I definitely got my money's worth. @Hackworth played tokens-splash-Bonfire and burned down but looked smashing with a moxymtg sticker on his jacket.
Yep, that's the hubby and artist extraordinaire Rk Post goofing in Portland's inner SE industrial neighborhood. What's that Rk's holding? Oh right, a sketch of Me as Me-Mermaid-Awesome-Girl. Old modeling pic => artistic immortalization for $25 singles? Rad.
Other schwag I picked up? A gorgeous playmat, some signed cards, and some prints of ridic babes like Ayumi, the Last Visitor. Of course, Stormfront Pegasus was an auto-buy given my horse fixation, and also got an Avatar of Discord in the bargain! Score, score, score. The fun continued at Rum Club...
All kinds of crazy fun cocktails. Good conversation. In closing, it was an incredibly memorable weekend and I will never forget it. If you ever have the chance to meet Rk and acquire some of his art, don't hesitate. Support artists, support good people. I'll leave you with some pics of the Spirit token alters and the Lingering Spirits playset I did for @Hackworth to take to the event.
The chance to hang with an artist a I really admire, quality time with the hubby, and good food, libations, and beautiful art...what more could I ask for?
Cheers,
MJ
Friday, September 7, 2012
MoxyMTG's Guide to #SCGPORT
We're super excited to have the Star City Open Series in town for the weekend! I've put together a handy guide to help folks visiting get the most out of their weekend here: where to play FNM on Friday, the best food near the event site, and drinks to tell your bad-beat stories over after the event.
It's all on a Google Map here, check it out! Everything is within moderate walking distance if you're up for it - Guardian Games (FNM) is about 1.5 miles from the hotel, but that's as far as it gets.
FOOD - Anzen Japanese Grocery
Just across the street from the convention center, this is the closest place to get good food at SCG Portland. Walk around the the deli counter in the back of the store and get fresh bao, sushi and wakame for lunch. It's a 100-year old family-owned Japanese grocery store with all sorts of snacks and candy to take back to your hotel later, too. If you want a preview, this blog has some nice photos inside the store.
FNM - Guardian Games
Guardian Games is the biggest game store in Portland - it's about 1.5 miles from the SCG-endorsed hotel (Residence Inn), but a just straight shot 10 blocks south on MLK from the event site. They also have an area in the back of the store called Critical Sip where you can enjoy bottled beer while playtesting. If you get into town Friday afternoon and want to game, they run two concurrent FNM tournaments, both M13 draft and Standard, firing at 6:30 pm. You can walk to bars on Burnside or cocktails at Stark & Sandy from here.
BEER - East Burnside
If you need to drown your sorrows after losing your win-and-in, East Burnside is the closest area with a good selection of bars and restaurants. Walk south on MLK from the event site and turn left (east) on Burnside, and you have a number of choices as you go east:
COCKTAILS - Rum Club / Beaker & Flask
If you prefer cocktails like I do, this is where you need to go. Located at SE Stark and Sandy, this is a quick walk from Guardian after FNM (walk 2 blocks south to Stark, then turn left (east) and walk up to the diagonal intersection at Sandy Blvd).
After drinks, you can walk east to 12th and catch the 70 bus back to Residence Inn if you're too drunk to walk.
For Star City's official info on the event, try here and here.
It's all on a Google Map here, check it out! Everything is within moderate walking distance if you're up for it - Guardian Games (FNM) is about 1.5 miles from the hotel, but that's as far as it gets.
MoxyMTG's Guide to #SCGPORT
For the text version, read on.FOOD - Anzen Japanese Grocery
Just across the street from the convention center, this is the closest place to get good food at SCG Portland. Walk around the the deli counter in the back of the store and get fresh bao, sushi and wakame for lunch. It's a 100-year old family-owned Japanese grocery store with all sorts of snacks and candy to take back to your hotel later, too. If you want a preview, this blog has some nice photos inside the store.
FNM - Guardian Games
Guardian Games is the biggest game store in Portland - it's about 1.5 miles from the SCG-endorsed hotel (Residence Inn), but a just straight shot 10 blocks south on MLK from the event site. They also have an area in the back of the store called Critical Sip where you can enjoy bottled beer while playtesting. If you get into town Friday afternoon and want to game, they run two concurrent FNM tournaments, both M13 draft and Standard, firing at 6:30 pm. You can walk to bars on Burnside or cocktails at Stark & Sandy from here.
BEER - East Burnside
If you need to drown your sorrows after losing your win-and-in, East Burnside is the closest area with a good selection of bars and restaurants. Walk south on MLK from the event site and turn left (east) on Burnside, and you have a number of choices as you go east:
- Mirakutei. Eat dinner here first (ramen, Japanese) if you need something to soak up the booze you're about to consume.
- Rontoms, a big hipster dive if you just want cheap PBR.
- Sizzle Pie Pizzeria
- B Side Tavern - pinball, patio.
- Burnside Brewing Company
- Doug Fir Lounge - MusicFestNW is happening all weekend, so this place will be packed
If you get this far, you'll be sauced enough to try the last two destinations:
- Galaxy Lounge - karaoke. I've never been, so can't vouch for the KJ or song selection.
- Union Jacks Club - it's no Mary's Club, but it's another well-known Portland strip club.
COCKTAILS - Rum Club / Beaker & Flask
If you prefer cocktails like I do, this is where you need to go. Located at SE Stark and Sandy, this is a quick walk from Guardian after FNM (walk 2 blocks south to Stark, then turn left (east) and walk up to the diagonal intersection at Sandy Blvd).
- Rum Club has an exclusively tiki-inspired drink menu, and is a Portland service industry staple.
- Beaker & Flask is a larger bar/restaurant next door (same owner), and features rotating guest bartenders from Portland's best bars.
After drinks, you can walk east to 12th and catch the 70 bus back to Residence Inn if you're too drunk to walk.
For Star City's official info on the event, try here and here.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
And Never Too Late
The thing that always bothered me about Koth's art is that he looked way too relaxed. We hear all this jazz about how he's a hothead (and it's reinforced in the books) and I think of this big, bulging, ferocious guy (sort of how Garruk's depicted in a lot of his assault-art) with lava dripping from his eyes and mouth...just ready to tear your face off. As we've established before, Koth as shown is more the sexy, steady guy who sells you Old Spice body wash.
When I set out to do these alters for the sweetest ever family I met in SCG Seattle (2011, cringe) my goal was to make them something that highlighted the art and added to it, since they expressed being collectors of sorts - just buying cards to hang the wall and admire, etc.
Part of the delay with finishing this commission was not being able to think of a solution to the artistic problem of "zesting up" Koth. It drove me bananas. I read the books. I thought. Finally, I had the idea to base the alters on Koth's journey (with Venser) deeper and deeper into the Phyrexian heart of Mirrodin. What if, I thought, I just extended the art but add elements that Koth may have encountered on this loooooong (thank you Robert Wintermute) journey?
It made sense. The elements would be encroaching on Koth's personal bubble from our first-person (as in the person holding the card) perspective, so we wouldn't see what Koth saw in total, only a part of it. That would add intrigue and mystery. The part of the elements shown on the card would hint at what he saw, and would be done in contrasting colors, visually adding interest.
I decided to make the added elements based on a different color of mana for each Koth. Since he's reppin' red, I altered the playset to have green, black, white, and blue elements featured in each. I was very happy with the result.
Suddenly Koth was no longer just standing there waiting for his taco order to get plated up...He was enraged at the sight of blackened Phyrexian horrors defiling the landscape of his home...He was nervous and unsure at the sight of one of Venser's light spheres floating up from the mist - was the other planeswalker alive or dead?...He was disgusted at and ready to burn a plant-like Phyrexian that slithered atop the water...He was afraid, and trying not show it, at the sight of a carcass in the swamp and the Elesh-like warrior that rose from the path and stood to face him in battle...
When I set out to do these alters for the sweetest ever family I met in SCG Seattle (2011, cringe) my goal was to make them something that highlighted the art and added to it, since they expressed being collectors of sorts - just buying cards to hang the wall and admire, etc.
Part of the delay with finishing this commission was not being able to think of a solution to the artistic problem of "zesting up" Koth. It drove me bananas. I read the books. I thought. Finally, I had the idea to base the alters on Koth's journey (with Venser) deeper and deeper into the Phyrexian heart of Mirrodin. What if, I thought, I just extended the art but add elements that Koth may have encountered on this loooooong (thank you Robert Wintermute) journey?
It made sense. The elements would be encroaching on Koth's personal bubble from our first-person (as in the person holding the card) perspective, so we wouldn't see what Koth saw in total, only a part of it. That would add intrigue and mystery. The part of the elements shown on the card would hint at what he saw, and would be done in contrasting colors, visually adding interest.
I decided to make the added elements based on a different color of mana for each Koth. Since he's reppin' red, I altered the playset to have green, black, white, and blue elements featured in each. I was very happy with the result.
Suddenly Koth was no longer just standing there waiting for his taco order to get plated up...He was enraged at the sight of blackened Phyrexian horrors defiling the landscape of his home...He was nervous and unsure at the sight of one of Venser's light spheres floating up from the mist - was the other planeswalker alive or dead?...He was disgusted at and ready to burn a plant-like Phyrexian that slithered atop the water...He was afraid, and trying not show it, at the sight of a carcass in the swamp and the Elesh-like warrior that rose from the path and stood to face him in battle...
Better Late Than Never
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