A/N: Those following my fic. "Percy Jackson, Planeswalker" your probably remember that I had made a promise to post this during my intermission. Well, I've finally stopped being a douche and posted this. Keep in mind that this is only a preview. This fic will not receive any attention until I finsh my current fic. I hate leaving stories half finished.
Chapter 1: A Dead World and a Dying Hope
Dark. That was what could be described about the city. The streets were cracked and shattered with the rotted remains of corpses littered the ground along with a number of strangely shaped, metal carriages. The buildings were large and imposing, with an architecture that would have impressed and amazed in its prime. Now, however, they were crumbling and damaged beyond repair. The walls were grey from years of lack of attendance, and most of the windows were shattered from age. All around, large, black birds cawed and squawked as they searched for their next meal. Even the sky was a steel-like color that was only broken by the endless meteor shower that invaded the land. There was little sound apart from the occasional squawk of a black bird and the roar of an incoming fireball.
The city was dead.
The static atmosphere was slowly broken by the steady clinking of metal grieves against the hard ground, like someone in heavy armor was walking through the deserted town. How could that be? There were no signs of life within the darkened streets of this city of death, nor was there any sign that it could even house life at all. Slowly, the metal clanking grew louder and louder as a hooded figure approached what appeared to be a crossroads. The figure stood well, reaching to about five-foot-ten, and was lithe with feminine features, distinguishing it as a woman. She wore bright, silver armor trimmed with gold, a white cloth draped from around her waist, down to halfway below her knees while an equally white cloak hung from her shoulders. The hood was up, but her face was still visible.
Her appearance was striking. A heart shaped face baring the gentlest of features. Her eyes were a lovely brown not too dissimilar from that of milk chocolate. Her lips her a light pink and were lusciously full, but not puffy. Her hair was hidden under her hood, but several strands of flowing, dark brown could be seen, and two ornate, golden earrings hung from her lobes, swinging slightly as she walked. A large, gleaming claymore rested sheathed on her back beneath her cloak. The blade was easily half a foot wide, at its base, and four and a half feet long. Its hilt was golden with two bright, glowing, blue circles running the length of it. The grip was exceptionally long, meaning that the sword had been intended for wielding with two hands.
The woman's name was Elspeth Tirel. She was a Planeswalker; a being capable of travelling through the barriers that separated the many worlds of the multiverse. For many years Elspeth had been travelling from world to world in search of a place to call her home, since her own world had been claimed by insurmountable darkness and corruption. Her travels had taken her to the plane of Alara where she witnessed its shattering and rebirth. She journeyed to the world of Zendikar where she was forced to retreat to escape the relentless horde of the Eldrazi. Her ventures lead her to the metallic plane of Mirrodin, only to fight in a losing war against the Phyrexian taint. Escaping the blackened world, she found herself in the god-ruled lands of Theros, believing she had found her home, only to become the champion of a god against her wishes, and be sent to end the life of another god.
When the task was done, Elspeth rid herself of the god's blessing and left, hoping to never see the accursed plane again. Of course, she was no fool, she had kept a few of the perks that were had from her dealings with Heliod.
Now, here she was, walking through the husk of a world that she now found herself in. Why was she here? What purpose did she serve in a world of death? Suddenly, the horrid roar of an incoming meteor grew obscenely loud. Looking up, she witnessed a massive fireball crash directly into a building not two hundred feet from her current position. She had thought nothing of it and prepared to continue on her gate when loud groaning began to ring out from all around her.
Of course, she thought, her eyes narrowing as she drew her blade and faced the horde of shambling corpses as they rose from their place on the ground to face the intruder upon their land. How many world has she been in where she had to face the re-awakened dead now? Elpeth lost count. Standing evenly, she sized up her foes. They were far slowing than what she was used to; barely even a snail's pace. This wasn't even going to be a challenge.
With little to no effort, Elpeth, the slayer of Xenagose, bane of the Phyrexians, fear of Alara's evil, lazily slew over a hundred zombies at a leisurely pace. She finished her lazy dance of death as the last undead weakling fell. Cleaning her sword of blood, she examined her surroundings. Not a single corpse was in less than two pieces. Suddenly, the loud cry of something inhuman rung out, shaking the very air around Elpeth. The whole city wend quiet for several minutes. The tension was so great, it was nearly visible. For what seemed like eternity, not a sound was made. And then, the building the meteor had crashed into began to rumble, showing its inability to stay standing any longer.
As the stone behemoth collapsed, Elspeth felt and heard a massive object land on the ground behind her. Turning around, her sword raised, Elspeth came face to face with a massive man in a red cloak.