The following is a magic the gathering fanfic. As you have no doubt already guessed. But I'm tempting something a little different. Instead of focusing solely on the characters that already exist, I chose to inject my own creations strait into the heart of the multiverse. It's my own take on magic; something like a , "What if two kids awoke one day and found out they weren't in Kansas anymore?" kind of thing.
One more note. Since the multiverse is an endless expanse of alternate realities waiting to be discovered, why not expand it yourself by creating your own plane? Again, just trying something a little different here. Well, enough jabberin' outta me, let's get on to the story!
*Welcome to the multiverse*
**Listen to what I've to say
Hear my words yes I will lead the way
Follow me and we'll never be apart
Just stab your blade right into their hearts**
-WinterStorm- Battle cry
My name is Angell Maria Cameron, and I love magic the gathering. I started playing just late last year in 2011, but I took to the game instantly. There was just nothing else like it in the world. The characters, the worlds, the spells, just everything is so- oh! Now is not the time to be talking. Right now I'm in a fight for my life…with my best friend.
"I'll pay five mana," I said as I turn five of the ten plains I control sideways. "And cast Angelic Destiny to Thalia."
My opponent grins at me from across the table, "Impressive enchantment, planeswalker," he sneered. "But I've a response!"
"Do thy worst, night bane," I challenged.
"I will pay three black mana and cast Doom Blade upon Thalia! The girl dies!" he cackled.
"Not just yet," I said with cool confidence. "For I will respond by paying two white mana and casting Stave Off ,granting Thalia protection from your cursed magic."
His eyes widened with surprised horror. "But how?"
"Now I enter combat!" I cried. "Go, Thalia, remove this vermin from my sight!"
Thalia flew forth on her new wings, right over the heads of my rival's black horde and delivered the finishing blow.
"How can this be!" he cried and fell out of his chair and onto the floor. He was dead.
Then we both burst out laughing.
"Man, that's two in a row. Am I losin' my touch?" my vanquished opponent said, propping his elbows on the table. His name was Saints, well, really his name was Tracy St. Ivan, but everyone called him by his nickname, Saints. We were both seventeen, in our last year of high school, and more or less joined at the hip. Me and Saints had known each other since fourth grade. Our meeting was hilarious. We were in our science class and our teacher was telling us about tectonics, and how mountains were made by the plates colliding and forcing the earth to rise upwards. She asked Saints if he could name one impressive trait that all mountains share, and he said, "Yeah, they all make red mana."
Everyone looked at him like he was freakin' nuts. Except me. I responded with a timely, "Red sucks, white's the best!"
The rest is history.
We cleared up our game and I walked Saints to the door.
"Best day of the week tomorrow," he said brightly.
"Friday night magic, wouldn't miss it," I said back.
Saints winked and walked out the door…only to run back in. "Holy crap, forgot somthin'" he said. He ran back to the table and bent his head under and retrieved a black-sleeved card. "My Black Sun Zenith." he stared at the card thoughtfully for a moment. "You know, if I had just one more swamp, I could have ended it right there." he said.
"Yeah but you didn't, sucks to be you." I said.
Saints pulled one corner of his mouth into a grin. "Maybe tomorrow then."
"If we get matched up, which has only happened once, and I clearly recall kickin' your ass." I said wisely.
"Heh, lady fortune shall not smile upon you in our next meeting, white mage." And with that, he took off down the street, his ultra pro back pack rattling with loose dice and deck boxes.
I shut the door and stood listening to the silence for a while. Mom wouldn't be back from work until about nine. I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and decided to take a shower. Maybe now I can finish introducing myself. My name's Angell Cameron. I'm mixed race; half Mexican , half Caucasian. I live with my mom in a two-story house in Southern New Jersey. My life isn't too exciting, I just go to school, play games, and then go to school again. Nothin' major. I swung open my door, which bore a home made sign that read *Now entering the Multiverse*, and shut it closed behind me.
My room was freakin' awesome.
Every last inch was covered with some kind of magic merchandise. Figurines stood on every dresser top, posters of planeswalkers took up the entire ceiling. The original color of my walls was impossible to tell, as they were plastered over with hundreds upon hundreds of magic cards. I put my commons to good use. I walked into my private bathroom and showered up. The hot water felt good.
It was about nine thirty and I was half asleep. I hardly heard my bedroom door creak open. The next thing I knew my mom had suddenly appeared on the edge of my bed. "You awake, sweetie?"
She cooed. "Yeah," I said, sitting up. She sat down next to me and stroked my hair. "You're so much like your father," she said. I had no idea how to respond to that. I never knew my father, he left my mom before I was even born. She never really talked about him, and I never really asked. It was just me and mom, that's how it always was. My mom's name is Andrea Cameron, coolest white chick you'll ever meet. 'cause that's my mom, and I love her to death.
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me tight. I hugged back. "Hey, mom, it's not that I mind, but what's with all the sudden affection? You don't have bad news for me or something do you?"
Mom shook her head slowly. "No, honey," she said. "I'm just appreciating what I have. My sweet baby girl." she rocked me slowly back and forth.
"Mom, you know I'm not a kid anymore, right?"
"All too well."
"Well, do you think now you can tell me why dad left?"
Mom held me at arms length and looked at me with her beautiful green eyes, the same eyes I inherited. "He had…things to do." she answered finally.
"A calling, I guess you could say."
I rolled the answer around in my head for a while, but wasn't content with it. She was being distant, which I guess was acceptable; this was a pretty emotional conversation. She stood up and slowly made her way to the door, stopping just long enough to gaze up to my ceiling posters. "Planeswalkers…," she sighed.
"Greatest beings in the multiverse," I said .
Mom looked at me and smiled somewhat sadly. "Your father is going to be so proud of you." she said. Then she closed the door.
Her last statement left me feeling a little strange. How would I know if my father was proud of me? She said it in future tense, making it seem like I was going to do something to make him so.
I decided not to pursue it. I lay back down and my head sank into the pillow. Sleep was coming on fast, and it would not be denied.
I was awake, but not fully; caught in that awkward place between sleep and consciousness. I was well aware of what was around me, even though I couldn't actually see it. What I felt was…well, I didn't really know what it was, but I knew that it was soft and I seemed to be surrounded by it. I opened my eyes… and had to immediately shut them again. I was blinded by sunlight. I opened my eyes again, much more slowly this time and found myself lying in a field of grass staring at a wide blue sky.
I sat up slowly and turned my head to get a better view of my surroundings. Nothin' but grass…lots of grass. This was some dream I was having, I swear I could actually feel the heat of the sun's rays on my skin. As strange as this was, the stranger thing was that I didn't feel entirely out of place here. In this huge field of grass I felt kind of at ease, as though me being here was somehow…right. I took a few slow steps forward and made a discovery. There was a path that winded through this immense field, a road. It was well-worn and stretched as far as my eyes could see. I drew a line in the hard-packed dirt with my toe and made another discovery. I was fully dressed. The clothing was simple, I mean really simple. They could have easily passed for something out of eighteen- hundred -something. I wore a white cloth tunic, which was supposedly fitted for women, as it allotted room for my breasts, which was good, because it didn't come with a bra.
The skirt was long, also white, and came to just about my ankles, which were hidden in long black boots.
I don't remember sleeping in these clothes.
My dream got even stranger, because it was at that point that I heard something. It was still a ways off, but it was distinct. It sounded like…wheels. Big wooden wheels…and hooves. I looked to my left and saw coming down the road was a horse-drawn carriage. As it drew closer I could immediately tell that this thing was not built for pleasure rides. The carriage was a huge black box with barred windows and looked to be made of iron rather than wood. This was a prisoner transport. I actually didn't even stop to think how and why these details came so easily to me, or how they didn't surprise me. It was a dream, I just went with it.
They carriage came to an abrupt stop and the two horses pulling it whinnied in agitated surprise. There were four men in the carriage. Four huge, powerful-looking men. They must have been soldiers, or possibly jailers. They wore the same light-weight leather armor that made them look to be in uniform. It was clear they all worked for the same organization.
They all turned to look at me, but it was the driver on the far left who spoke first. "Oy there, girl!" he barked.
I actually turned my head around a few times, just to be sure there was no one else around. "Uh…me?" I couldn't have sounded any lamer.
"Of course, ye, idiot! Who else is there to speak to?"
I remained silent.
"What is it that you are doing out here?"
"Well, what say you? Have ye no tongue to speak?"
Why the hell was he talking like that? "I uh, just kind of woke up here." It sounded stupid, but it was the absolute truth.
The men in the carriage shared a laugh. "Hung over from Carnivalium are you?" the far driver said.
"Had ye a good time, eh? Can't remember a blasted thing!" the men laughed again. I didn't get the joke. "I could offer ye a ride back to town. A pretty thing like you shouldn't be left out in the wilderness, eh?"
I didn't like the way he said that.
Just then, there was a bang from the prison of the carriage. A tiny whimper of pain reverberated in it's iron walls. One of the jailers jumped from his seat with his weapon at the ready. It was a short, thick club that looked to be made of hardened leather. He walked back to the prison door, opened it, and jumped inside. There were the sounds of a struggle going on inside, that caused the carriage to rock violently. The other jailers jumped from their seats and ran to help their partner.
Just a moment later, all four of them returned to the front, each securing a limb of a small and obviously frightened man. I tensed up slightly, but didn't necessarily feel sorry for him. If he was a prisoner, he was likely a criminal, and more or less deserved what he was to get. I still couldn't get over how real this dream felt.
"Please!" the little man begged. " 'Twas not magic! 'Twas an illusion! Spark powder left over from Carnivalium! I swear it!"
Did I hear that right? Did he say magic?
"Spare me your lies, magician!" said the lead jailer. "The fire you conjured was unnatural. Never in my life have I seen a blue flame!"
"If I were a magician, would I not conjure fire right now to save myself?" the man pleaded.
"So now you make threats, sinner?" the lead jailer roared.
"No! I didn't mean-"
Before I knew what was happening, the jailers had thrown the man to the ground and beat him mercilessly with their clubs. He cried in sheer pained terror as he flung his arms up in a futile attempt to protect himself from the vicious onslaught.
It was too much for me to take.
"STOP IT!" I shrieked. My shrill voice carried through out the field, causing the men to look up in surprise.
It was the lead jailer who broke the silence. "Those who empathize with sinners are but sinners themselves. Take her!"
The three other jailers locked their sights on me and began to advance. My heart jumped into my throat and I tripped over backwards and fell on my butt. This dream was getting way too real. But that's about when you wake up right? Just when the scary stuff is about to happen? The three men advance on me as I crawled backwards across the grass, too afraid to take my eyes off them. But just then, I began to feel something else. The ground beneath me started to grow warm. At first, I didn't know what to make of it, I thought it was the startled spike of body heat that accompanies a terror attack. But this was different. It intensified; it grew. Every blade of grass suddenly felt as though it were electrified, thrumming; charged as though by some kind of…power.
How I knew what to do next, is beyond me.
The men were almost on me. They laughed as they formed a circle around me, cutting off any chance of escape. They lunged in to grab me.
That's when I made my decision.
I didn't want this to happen.
I had to protect myself.
I had to act.
I threw my arms up around my head and shouted "Stave Off!"
There was a huge flash of white blinding light, and the three men were hurled backwards, as though forced from the area by an explosion. I sat there breathlessly with my arms still above my head. What did I just do? And how did I know to do it?
The lead jailer flung me a look of such intense anger that it actually made me whimper; a tiny sound that barely escaped my fear-tightened throat. "You will pay for that, sinner!" He strode towards me with furious pace. His footfalls seems to shake the ground. Before I could act, he was upon me, and reached out to grab my throat.
I knew I could beat him.
The grass around me crackled with warm energy as I summoned my will. "Stave Off!" I shouted. The same white light flash through the field, only this time, my target didn't move.
"Your tricks will not work on me, mage." The jailer growled as he tapped a large circular amulet that was draped around his neck.
One word came to mind. "Hexproof…" I moaned.
The jailer grinned a gruesome grin, raised his club, and struck it down.
Everything went black.
I was awake again; the pain in my head told me so. I was lying on something hard and cold; face down at that. My eyes creaked open and the room slowly swam into focus, then out of focus, and into focus again. From my lowly position, I found myself staring at several pairs of booted feet…through thick iron bars.
I was in prison.
I wriggled the fingers of my right hand. They were stiff. It must have been hours since I moved at all.
"Ah. She is waking," I heard a voice say. I managed to push myself into a kneeling position and found a blurry face staring through the bars at me. "My, my, that is quite the bruise you've got," it said.
"wha…huh…?" My brain still couldn't string two proper words together.
"Humph. I was hoping that blow would have killed her," said an angry voice to the right. It immediately brought back a memory. It was the jailer who knocked me out.
The man crouching in front of me chose to ignore this particular statement, and instead spoke to me. "Can you stand?" he asked. I obliged, walking my hands up the bars to steady myself. By the time I stood again to my towering height of 5'4, I was ready to fall down again. "Here, drink this," the man said, sliding a wooden goblet through the bars. I starred at him quizzically.
He laughed a little. "Do not worry," he said. "I'm the doctor here. This will help your blood flow and clear your head."
I took the small cup and stared into it. I could feel the jailer's beady eyes of hatred boring right into me. I didn't dare look at him. I raised the cup to my lips and took a small swig. The stuff tasted like acid flavored Nyquil . I coughed as it left a burning trail down my throat. Right away my head went fuzzy again, and then at once cleared up again. I couldn't even feel the lump on my head anymore. "Some stuff you got here, doc," I said, downing the rest.
The doctor took the cup from me; my vision and senses having fully returned. "Now then, young lady. Do you think you can tell us your name?"
"My name is Angell," I said steadily.
The jailer spit on the floor. "These sinners are all alike!" he shouted. "Such audacity to take a name from the seven heavens!"
I had absolutely no idea what the hell he was talking about. Or why he was so freakin' mad.
"Honestly, Gavis! Such language is far from necessary!"
Gavis? What the hell kind of name was that? This dream was getting stupid. "The poor child was merely protecting herself. As one would no doubt do when confronted with the brutality of you and your crooked branch of authority."
"Our job is to purify the world of such vermin," the jailer countered. "Wielders of such unnatural power have no right to exist!"
"Perhaps this hatred of yours is not but jealousy?" the doctor said, finally turning to face the smug jailer.
"Maybe you have forgotten what their kind has done to ours?" Gavis said stoutly.
"I hail not from this city, so it is no concern nor history of mine. That said; I find it a shame that this city's fearful influence has spread as it has over Terra-Fausta. And how many so willingly buy into it."
Terra-what? That's it. No more magic the gathering before bed. Time to wake up now!
"Your words matter not," Gavis said flatly. "The girl is to be executed at nightfall."
Seriously. WAKE UP!
"Your captain will never approve of this!" cried the doctor.
"What he does not know will not hurt him," said Gavis quietly.
"Is that so?" said a strong voice from the doorway.
We all turned to meet the source of the voice. What I saw made me want to pass out again. "C-captain Jura!" sputtered Gavis. He hastily put his right fist to his heart and took to one knee. The tall and impressive man looked down on him with a stone-like face. "Leave my sight, now. You shall be dealt with later." Gavis scrambled from the room, his sight never leaving the floor. Then the man turned to me.
I couldn't breathe. I think I had forgotten how to at that point. Standing there in front of me was something impossible. No. someone impossible. Someone who I knew was not real. Someone who I knew that couldn't possibly exist. Someone who's only reality was played out in my mind. "G-G-G-…Gideon Jura…" I said with no voice at all.
The planeswalker cocked his head slightly. "So, you know of me," he said. His voice was so even, steady, and sure. I could tell he was confident in his ability to control any situation with just his words. "Tell me, do you reside here in Lu-Dirra?"
"My lord, if I may…" the doctor said timidly.
"Speak," said Gideon.
"I believe that blow to the head that the girl suffered may be affecting her memory. She was unable to recall anything of this city when previously asked."
"So it would seem," Gideon said. "Perhaps a memory spell would serve. Denor, how fair your blue mana arts?"
The doctor, Denor, looked to the floor somewhat shamefully, "I've none to my name, my lord. I delve only in white."
" 'Tis no matter," Gideon said reassuringly. "Her memory will return in time. But until then, It may be for her own safety to remain where she is now."
"Wait!" I shouted. "Aren't they going kill me if I stay here?"
Gideon's eyes narrowed. "No such fate shall befall you as long as I am here," he said. I wonder why I was so worried. It was only a dream. It wouldn't matter if I died or anything. "Denor. Go fetch some blankets for the girl. This cell is for her protection, not her punishment," Gideon commanded. Denor obeyed and departed with a bow to Gideon and a small smile to me.
It was just me and Gideon. I was alone with a figment of my imagination…great. He stared at me now, and I found myself unable to meet his penetrating gaze. "So, you honestly have no recollection of this city you are from?" he said to me. I slowly shook my head. But just then, an idea came to me. It wasn't until just that moment that I truly realized who I was talking to.
"I don't know this city because I am not from here," I said slowly. Then I played my trump card. "What is the name of this plane?"
The effect was instant.
Gideon's icy calm was shattered by his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. He walked quickly to my cell, produced a bronze key from his pocket, and opened the door. I was free.
"Why did you not speak sooner?" Gideon asked me in surprise.
"I didn't want to alarm the doctor," I said coolly. Now I was in control.
"Well, if not here, then what plane do you hail from?" he asked me with a touch of excitement.
I strolled towards the middle of the gray room, enjoying the control I suddenly had over this legendary figure. I stopped, and turned towards him. "Earth," I said. "I'm from a plane called earth."
*End of chapter 1*