ANCIENT HISTORY
Chapter 1:
For one, for all who speak
After Urza had created Mana at Tolaria, the multiverse's varied civilizations learned to use it on their own for fighting or more practical uses. This is where our story begins. It is now almost 2000 years since the last attempted Phyrexian Invasion. The Phyrexians, though believed to have been defeated, have returned to Dominaria. They are led by the reincarnation of their original leader, Yawngmoth, and one of his past generals, Tsabo Tavoc. Five of the most powerful Otarian Pit-Fighters have been recruited to defend their world from this invasion. They were each given the gift of the essence of a type of mana. Mana is the fuel for casting spells and summoning creatures. This power is drawn from the land itself, because mana is the essence not only of magic, but of life. Depending on the type of landscape, different types of mana can be drawn. Later we will visit a small backwater planet where human beings are the dominant race, but have not learned how to harness the power of mana. This planet will be the site of another Phyrexian invasion. Now, back to this story:
"Ah, it is finally finished..." Jareth said.
Jareth was a Leonin, which meant that he was part man and part lion. He was fairly tall and had a deep voice. This gave off the aura that he was powerful, which he was… He wore his mane like a beard in the front and braided it behind his head, which gave the impression that he was old and wise. Jareth, in reality wasn't very old. In terms of a Leonin, he was actually quite young, somewhat of an adolescent. He seemed so wise because he was so experienced in life situations. He had seen his friends die. He had seen his family brutally murdered. All this he saw, because he was the one at the hilt. He had killed, out of rage, out of vengeance. He even killed for money in the Pit Arenas. People gambled in the Pit Arenas. It was in the Great Coliseum that the rich man lost everything, and the poor were given a second chance at life. This was impossible though. There was no escaping the Pit Arenas. The winners desired more and put everything on an instinct. Piles of dead filled the lower chambers of the Coliseums, carcasses being devoured by rats, as the rich and poor fought a war for their earthly pleasures, loosing everything and winning nothing but the chance to loose it again. No one was safe from the insanity… No one could win that war… Through it all Jareth was in the middle of this struggle, fighting to save his own life and not caring about anyone else's…
"Yes, as is mine." Silvos replied.
Silvos was an elemental. He was created due to an artifact known as the Mirari. He came from a small Dominarian continent called Otaria. The Mirari had caused unusually rapid growth of two different forests in Otaria: Krosa and Wirewood. It was also the cause of great struggle across Otaria. The battle caused the deaths of thousands upon thousands of people of the many civilizations of Otaria. Entire tribes were killed by the insanity of the holder of the Mirari. It would give you what you wanted, but not what you needed. It became clear to a few select persons that this artifact was created by the legendary Planeswalker Golem, Karn. Karn was known by these people as Lord Macht. Karn had been creating a world called Mirrodin. Mirrodin was a world made entirely of metal, of which we will learn more about later in our story. As for Silvos, he was large and cumbersome. He was green, scaly and had small tentacles coming from different places in his arms, neck, torso and legs. Elementals are usually created as the essence of something. This is where Silvos was different. Silvos was considered an outcast by many, because he had no real purpose. He was created by the Mirari, by Krosa, and then thrust out into the world. He had no meaning in his life. He had no reason to live. Many say that if you look to magic, you can find anything that you are searching for. Apparently this is true, because in magic; Silvos found power. It was in the Pit Arenas that meaning found Silvos. Had it not been for his depression, he would not have found the "Pits", as they were called. Had that never happened, he never would have found what he was searching for. Respect, reverence, meaning, he found all of these in the Pits, but it was in the Pits that he became an Avatar. This was what made him who he was.
"With the similar usage of resources, our weapons should work together in harmony." Jareth said, staring at his weapons, admiring his genius.
"Almost...finished..." Rorix said in between deep gasps.
Rorix was a dragon from Shiv. His ancestors had died to protect the Shivan Mana Ring from the Phyrexian Invasion. He had gone to Otaria in search of a way to restore the good name of the Shivan Dragons. He found it in the Pits. He killed many honorable warriors in the arenas in order to restore the honor of his own kind. He was even killed once… It was because of the sadistic glee of a group of criminals called The Cabal. They had a habit of using vombification spells to bring back their best fighters from the dead to give them a second chance at retaining their titles. Rorix had returned to the Pits using the alias of "Bladewing the Risen." The Great Spirit saw through this mask. It knew who Rorix was, that he was the perfect candidate to become the Red Avatar.
The Avatars were now creating their weapons, they were instilling the powers of mana in these artifacts with every moment they spent perfecting them. Silvos, not being the most creative of the Avatars, whittled a sword from the undying wood of Yavimaya. Yavimaya was one of the "sovereign" forests of Dominaria. All of the branches that fall from a tree in Yavimaya retain the power and life energy of the "Mother Tree." He called it the Heart of the Forest.
Rorix had taken his Morning star from the Pit Arenas, repaired the broken chain links and slowly instilled the powers of fire, lightning and rock. He chose to use that weapon of his dark past as a solemn reminder of who he once was. He had taken many lives with this weapon in his former life, and he would gladly take many more to save his homeland.
While in the Pits, Jareth had killed an Aven soldier. Avens are tall creatures bearing traits of both birds and humans. After he had killed the Aven Warrior, he noticed that the claws on the feet of this creature were long and sharp. They were perfect for catching fish from out of a river or sea. They were built to kill…He, in his victorious state, tore one from each foot of the dead creature. He held them above his head and let out a roar of triumph. The crowd cheered, they loved Jareth. He tucked them into the belt around his waist that was holding up his loin cloth. He had expected to use them in an emergency, should he get into a sticky situation, a broken weapon or something of the sort. He never intended to use these ill-gotten weapons to save his world from a greater danger than anything he had seen in the Pits. He bore a hole at the end of each of them. He then proceeded to thread a thin strip of leather through each of these holes. He tightly tied knots in each of the leather strips in order to keep the claws attached. The end result was two whips ending in Aven claws. This is why he named these weapons the Aven claws.
"Where did the others run off to?" Silvos questioned.
"They decided to test their new weapons out against the Phyrexians camped outside of the city gates." Rorix answered.
"What! They shall surely parish!" Jareth exclaimed. "We must go to their aid!"
Arriving at the city gates, the three Pit Fighter Legends were gasping for air after running so far, so fast. With the little strength they had left they pushed open the heavy steel doors. Much to their astonishment, the Phyrexians had been driven down the hill from where they were originally camped, through the fields at the bottom, and across the river to the south. A cloaked man and a woman were making large strides towards the city, Arcanis and Visara.
"A reckless two, aren't they?" Rorix said grinning.
"Indeed, and one day they will pay the price for it." Jareth replied, smiling at Rorix.
Arcanis looked at the three of them standing at the gates, and chuckled.
"So the great spirit chose us above everyone else on Dominaria? We're just a bunch of blood-thirsty Otarians…" Arcanis said. Arcanis was a wizard who, in the pursuit of power, lost all distinguishable traits. He wore the cloak to cover his head, which was merely two red eyes hovering in the black cloud that was his head. He made sure that the cloak was large enough to enshroud his entire body, for it was also nothing but a black cloud that resembled the body of a human. He was chosen by the Great Spirit because he had suffered greatly and seen much. He had seen the end of the world, but returned to ensure that no one else would. He had lost all physical traits, but he had not lost all emotional traits of a human being. He loved, and knew love. He loved Visara and wished for nothing more than to tell her how he felt. He missed being human. He missed his face, his hair, his skin, even his scars. He missed his scars most, because they were a reminder to him, during his pursuit of power, that he was not a god, that he was still human. His seemingly limitless power had earned him many fans in the Pits, the only place where he could hone these new powers he had obtained from the end of the world.
He had created a Trident as his weapon, because during the war for the Mirari, he was close allies with the Otarian Merman, Laquatus. Mermen love to use tridents, and often times refuse to use anything else. They were good friends up until the point of Laquatus' betrayal. Laquatus was a filthy criminal for what he had done to the Cephalids and the people of Otaria, but the Trident was a reminder that there is good in all evil. That there is still kindness, friendship and companionship that dwell within even the darkest of hearts…
Visara was a Gorgon, which meant that she bore human traits, but her hair was a nest of live snakes that were a part of her. She was different from other Gorgons, because she did not turn anyone who looked upon her to stone, but instead could turn those she looked upon to stone at will. This made her an outcast, which would prove to be lucky for her. The civilization of Gorgons of which she belonged to was hated by many, perhaps all, of the inhabitants of Otaria. After she was banished from her civilization, it was destroyed. Who destroyed it is still unknown. Nevertheless, her family was now dead. She had nowhere left to go. So, she found herself in the Pits, fighting for money. She was also quite popular, because even though women weren't uncommon in the Pits, Gorgons were. There was only ever one Gorgon who entered the Pits. Visara was forced to kill him. The audience loved it, a miniature tribal war… They did not know the truth though: The other Gorgon was Visara's childhood friend…
She had forged an Axe, in the darkness of the Blacksmith's Gallows in the city they had been staying in, the Phyrexians target. She forged it because she felt that her family and friends were killed swiftly, like that of an executioner's axe. She forged it in the darkness, because it emulated the darkness in her heart.
At a running pace Jareth met them half way. He slowed to a stop, panting from the heat of the summer's day.
"So what was your choice for your Avatar Weapon? You didn't give us a chance to finish, or we all would've tested them out together." He said.
"I felt that an Axe would be best for me." Visara said.
"I made a Trident to rival that of the Pearl Trident." Arcanis added.
The two weapons glinted beautifully in the summer sun. Jareth showed his Aven claws to Arcanis and Visara. The group headed back to the city. As the three of them neared the gates, Rorix and Silvos walked out to meet them.
"Good show, that attack sent them back enough for us to plan for the next two days." Silvos said.
The next two days were restless ones before the Phyrexian attack. The townsmen had devised a plan in order for the Pit Fighter Legends to escape. Arcanis had confessed his love to Visara, and she in turn welcomed it.
"Go east, at the river bend there will be a small boat docked, you can use that to escape down the river to the last known Thranic encampment. We will hold them off as long as we can." Senator Feren stated.
Senator Feren was one of the great human leaders, who was also the leader of this small human village.
"I can't believe we're doing this! We are the ones who should protect the Dominarians, but it seems they're the ones protecting us!" Silvos raged.
"We would die any day to protect our great, new defenders." Feren said.
"Thank you, Senator; you have been a fine host. Know that no Matter what happens today, you will always be remembered. You are honorable to an ungodly extent. We can all learn much from you." Visara said, gently.
"Thank you and May Gaea be with you." Feren replied.
"As to you..." Arcanis said solemnly.
The Avatars trudged across the open plains to the east of the city.
"I can only hope that there are no Debasers in that legion of Phyrexians, because we would make easy targets in the middle of this field. There is nowhere to hide." Silvos said, grimly.
A loud screech filled the air. The Avatars turned to find its source. Arcanis and Visara looked over their shoulders, temporarily releasing each other's hands. Rorix twisted his long neck and looked to the skies. Jareth and Silvos summoned their weapons, without even looking back. This was a surprise to the other Avatars; because they had no idea that they could cast a spell with the mana they drew to summon their weapons to their current locations. The weapons that they had created were sent down river by three envoys from the human city. The other three Avatars followed the examples of Jareth and Silvos and focused their energies in order to summon the weapons to their location.
"By the gods above!" Rorix said, in horror.
Behind them, the city that had tried to protect them lay in ruins. Two streaks moved through the field towards them. Above them, five Debasers sliced through the air towards them.
"What's that in the grass?" Visara asked.
"Denouncers! Make for the docks! Run, and don't look back!" Silvos cried.
The five of them dashed in different directions, trying to throw off the Denouncers, which were well camouflaged in the tall grass. Four of them reached the docks. Visara caught a glimpse of these fascinating creatures as they moved towards her. She was strangely captivated by the way they moved. They stalked like the mountain raptors stalk snakes. She watched them for a time, not realizing the potential threat.
"Where is Visara?" Arcanis asked, in horror.
He dashed into the field, running towards the spot where she had last been seen, but before he could reach her she fell below the tall grass out of sight. Then at the spot where she had last been, a huge black pillar of mana erupted. Visara had used the last of her energy to cast a spell that would hide her weapon away on another plane so that someone else would become the new Black Mana Avatar. Tears welled in Arcanis' red eyes. He could cry! He watched as he began to regain human traits again. He could see his skin, his fingernails, even his scars… Life was such a beautiful gift. This he knew, and even in this utterly painful moment he cherished who he was. He knew he would never see Visara again, but he also knew he would always see her. In his nightmares and in his dreams; He would see her always… It was an emotional moment in his life that took humanity from him and it was a second that gave it back to him. The depression in his heart was overwhelming. It was almost too painful to bear. But nevertheless, it was still there… Still there, though she was not… Visara was gone, taken from him forever. He would never be able to see her face again… Never again…
"Take me back to her! You foul, nightmarish beasts! Give me back to her!" He screamed.
He watched as the two streaks in the tall grass converged on him.
"Take me back…" He whispered.
He slipped under the grass, and a blue pillar of mana erupted from the spot where he had fallen. The other three saw the streaks head towards them and jumped into the boat. Untying the rope, the boat began to drift away. The two Denouncers emerged from the grass, running out onto the dock one slid on the wet wood, then the other slid into it knocking it into the water, where it sank down to the bottom, weighed down by it's own metal bones and mechanical organs...
The other three continued down the river, being closely pursued by the five Debasers. One of the Debasers dove down out of the air, like a bird swooping down to catch it's prey. Rorix rose to meet it in its dive, and teach it who ruled the sky.
"This nightmare ends here!" He screamed.
The Debaser latched onto Rorix's shoulders and continued its plummet, crashing into the boat, just as the other two Pit fighters leapt out into the river. A great Red beam of light shot up from the depths of the river. Rorix had fallen, taking one of the Debasers with him. The carcass of the Debaser sank to the bottom of the river, still smoldering. On one side of the river, Silvos was struggling with the Debasers. One had picked him up and crushed him in its claws. His face was washed over by a look of sheer pain. Another beam shot into the heavens, green this time.
On the other side of the river Jareth dashed into the woods. He would survive; he would make sure that the other Avatars would not have died in vain. He ran through the thick forest, expecting to loose them. So many thoughts were going through his mind. He stumbled down a hill into a muddy pit. He rose, surrounded by six defilers. He struck at two of them with his Aven Claws, but even though they were killed by the strike the other four moved in, devouring him with unfeeling malice. They ripped him apart with the greatest of glee. One survivor, back in the city saw a great beam of white light rise up from the forest in the distance. Jareth had joined the greater kin, and in death found all those he had lost along the way. He was given the chance to right all of the wrongs he had caused during his life. He was finally complete...
Many have wondered where the Avatar of Artifacts came from. It was fairly simple. It began on Dominaria, and ended on the small plane of Earth. The original Avatar of Artifacts was a member of a civilization called the Thran. The Thranic encampment that the original Avatars were headed for was this Thran's home. His name was Kerrick. The Thran were legendary artificers, building technological wonders beyond the comprehension of the other factions of their time. This element of artifice allowed them the use of a special kind of mana: The Mana of Artifacts. It was colorless, not falling into one of the categories of the five chromatic mana colors. Kerrick had mastered the use of this type of mana. He was one of the greatest Thranic artificers ever known. He was also chosen by the Great Spirit to combat the Phyrexian forces. He had planned to make himself known to the Avatars that he was going to join them on their quest when they reached his encampment. His weapons were two matching Katana. He was taught how to fight in the way of the Samurai by a blind ronin from the distant, feudal plane called Kamigawa. He was then killed by the advancing Phyrexian forces that had killed the Avatars earlier. All of the Thran captives were converted to Phyrexians, just like their kinsmen. These were the last Thran to be converted to the Phyrexian way. His weapons were sent to earth, just like the other Avatar's weapons. Kerrick, fortunately, was killed by one of the Phyrexian archers as he fled from the encampment. His body was never found by the Phyrexians. His spirit dwelt on Dominaria for some time thereafter. He stayed on Dominaria for two thousand years. It wasn't until the battle for the Mirari that he left the plane of Dominaria. Kerrick felt the pull of the Mirari's power and of Karona's. He followed it to the continent of Otaria. He flew over the remnants of the Grand Coliseum. He saw a group of small serpentine creatures slithering in the same direction that he was. He sat atop a cliff, outside of a city made entirely of ruby. He watched as the glorious being called Karona fell from the heavens, with her two servants. She had come to kill her Numena brothers. First, Kerrick saw Lowalyn killed by a great Magma beast that he had created. Then the last two warriors, Kamahl and Kuberr, were trapped inside of a mountain that Karona had summoned around them. Kamahl was rescued by his close ally and General of his army, Stonebrow. Stonebrow was a centaur who had been mutated by the power of the Mirari while it was in Krosa. Unfortunately, by the time they reached Kuberr, he was already gone. Karona destroyed the Ruby-Men of the city of Averru, knowing that Averru was the third Numena and that he had instilled his spirit in the city itself to stay alive. The Numena were the most powerful beings at one point in time. They were only given limited time you use their power though. Averru knew this and built a city entirely of ruby. He even made people out of ruby. This way, his spirit would live on in the city, and he would never die or loose his power. By the time the other Numena learned of this, it was too late. They had to hastily make attempts to keep themselves alive. Kuberr cast a spell that would allow him to instill his spirit on a fetus in the womb. Lowalyn's spell only allowed him the chance to give his mind someone who had already lost theirs. And so, Kuberr instilled his spirit in the son of the Cabal's leader, The First. Lowalyn took over the mind of Ixidor, who had lost the love of his live and gone insane. The three Numena had been destroyed, and three great beams rose from the city, just as the beams rose when Kerrick and the Avatars were killed. Had the Numena sent their powers to earth, too? A great duel between Kamahl and Karona ensued. It seemed as though Kamahl would loose the battle when he lost his weapon, a sword forged by his grandfather, Matoc, and Matoc's close friend, Balthor. The sword itself was made from ancient Thranic metal. In the end it was the two acolytes of Karona who killed her, using Kamahl's sword that had the Mirari fused to it. They knew that in order for their world to survive, they would need to destroy the one who was sucking its life away. Kerrick's spirit sat contently and watched as a shockwave of mana spread across the continent, and soon the entire planet. He watched as the serpentine creatures he had seen earlier were blown away by the blast. A few remained and joined together to create some greater being, fused my magic. Kerrick saw a tall man appear. He was metallic in appearance. He took Karona in his arms and prepared to leave. Kerrick could hear some talking coming from the two acolytes… They said something about a "Lord Macht". Then the man and Karona were gone. Kerrick was curious; he wanted to know more, so he followed them. Kerrick's spirit had wandered from the plane of Dominaria to Mirrodin, following the false-god Karona, who was later revealed to be the Planeswalker Jeska, and the Planeswalker Karn. He stumbled upon Mirrodin, just as Karn and the Planeswalker Jeska had left. There his spirit found a race of Golems, which were being enslaved by Mirrodin's caretaker, Memnarch. This unnamed spirit found a place inside one of the golems. This golem was later lost in the swamps of Mephidross. The swamps of the Mephidross were called "The Dross" by their inhabitants. He was found, ages later, by and Elf-girl and a Goblin. They called him Bosh. When Bosh died fighting the Kaldra Champion, after it was turned against the group by Memnarch, the spirit moved on. It found its place in a card. That card then fell into the hands of a boy, who accidentally passed it on to a friend. Then; the Avatar of Artifacts was reborn within him. Though it took some time for him to agree, he did, and soon he became a valuable ally to the Avatars in the battle against the Phyrexians.