CHAPTER 1
Birds of a Feather
The barren landscape of Grixis was a frightening sight to behold. Rivers of pure rot parted way to jagged rock formations or massive piles of bone and flesh. The sky was always a dark gray, with the occasional thunder cloud to provide moments of brilliant light. The air smelled of a combination of death, decay, sweat, and smoke.
Somewhere on the edges of the Dregscape, between the remains of a broken down manor and a hill of ivory skeletons was the recently dead corpse of a human. The gruesome slash marks in the human's back suggested something/someone had purposely ended the human's life.
The reason for death was of no concern to the kathari circling overhead. Their only interest in the cadaver was for religious purposes. The vulture-like creatures practiced what they called "Skive", the art of cleansing bone of it's flesh to properly pay respect to the deceased, thereby releasing the deceased's soul to the afterlife.
The birdmen themselves were thin and lanky. They had very few feathers other then on their wings, giving them a balding appearance. It was easy to pick out the warriors from the casters, as some carried spears and some wielded crude staves. The warriors moved quickly, and with purpose, while the casters flew straight, simple paths to conserve energy.
The flock of kathari consisted of two Scourers - warriors that did the actual flesh scavenging, a Medium - the spiritual cleric that performed the religious rites, and an Outcrier - a shaman that communed directly with the dark mana that dwelled in Grixis.
Usually, anyone that saw this ragtag group of scavengers, outside of the mindless walking undead, would do their best to avoid them. However, Skorn was far from the usual traveler that made their way through the Dregscape.
Crouched behind a large piece of debris that had fallen off the crumbling manor, Skorn waited patiently for the kathari to make their descent. His choppy black hair waved in the gust, momentarily blowing in front of his sea-blue eyes and causing him to lose sight of the lead Scourer. Reaching past the leather satchel that rested from his shoulder to his hip, Skorn grabbed the long dragon claw that served as the handle for his preferred weapon.
The whip consisted of the dragon claw handle and the spine of a demon Skorn had once bested in battle. Skorn pulled it free from the clips that held it to the back of his bone armor and readied it as he watched the Medium glide down to where the corpse he had set out laid. Not even a moment later, a Scourer and the Outcrier landed behind it. Skorn still couldn't see where the second Scourer was.
A little nervous? a raspy voice in the necromancer's head asked.
"Not now" Skorn whispered.
Any ideas where that Scourer went? the voice asked.
The Medium took a few cautious steps forward, then bent down over the corpse.
Skorn shook his satchel in one violent motion as a drop of sweat ran down his forehead. "I said not now."
Just then Skorn heard the fierce caw of the missing Scourer and rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being impaled by it's spear. The other three kathari suddenly took flight in a panicked frenzy of confusion.
Look's like your cover is blown.
"Necccrrroooomancceerr!" the Outcrier screamed. The kathari readied it's weapon and doved towards Skorn.
Thinking quickly, the human whipped his weapon into the air and snared the shaman's claws with it. A powerful yank changed the kathari's trajectory and brought it down hard on the ground. The shaman shrieked in pain but still managed to get airborne quickly.
Skorn whipped his weapon in circles around his head to keep the Scourers at bay. He could hear the ravenous incantations the Medium was chanting up in the air and watched as dark auras of power began emanating from the other kathari.
Now what are you going to do?
The necromancer cursed under his breath before drawing on what little vis stores he had. As the life energy snaked its way through his veins, the dark sorcerer felt his magical powers multiply. Focusing on the pile of bones several yards away, he began muttering words of power.
Just as the first Scourer dared to dive bomb the necromancer, splinters of bone shot out of the pile with lightning speed. The bone pieces acted as arrows, impaling the kathari's wings and throat. Skorn watched in glee as the warrior bird plummeted to the ground lifelessly and the dark aura surrounding it disappeared.
While the other kathari were still shocked by their comrades death, Skorn cast another quick spell. The vis-draining magic absorbed the Scourer's life essence and fed it to the necromancer. Skorn felt a rush of adrenaline, as if he had just taken some glorious drug. His eyes rolled back and became empty black pits as his body adjusted to the newfound magic. It had been too long since he had tasted the sweet power fresh vis offered.
The Medium overhead began chanting even more furiously, words Skorn didn't understand pouring out of the kathari's beak at an inaudible pace. The necromancer watched as the auras surrounding the remaining warriors grew bigger and darker.
With a simple gesture from Skorn, the fallen kathari rose to its feet very mechanically. Gaining more fluid movement as it went, the Scourer took flight. This time, it's target was the Medium. Skorn reaffirmed his mental order to the undead warrior, just in case. The necromancer found too frequently that recently raised undead minions tended to be harder to control.
The living Scourer moved to intercept Skorn's minion, only to watch as the fallen warrior turned and plunged its spear into the Scourer's gut. Skorn's minion twisted the spear once for good measure, then used its clawed foot to push the Scourer's bleeding body off the weapon.
Seems the odds are even now.
Just then, a blast of dark magic washed over the necromancer's raised warrior. The Outcrier's spell left nothing but a charred skeleton in its wake. Skorn felt a pop in his brain as the psychic link between him and his minion was severed.
Perhaps I spoke too soon.
"Enough with the commentary!" Skorn bellowed as he turned to face the Medium and Outcrier.
The shaman screeched a battle cry and readied a new spell. Dark tendrils of magic spread out of its staff like the heads of a hydra and snapped wickedly at the necromancer.
The Outcrier is using the Medium as a mana battery. Destroy the source or you won't stand a chance.
Skorn knew the voice was right, but he didn't like it. Taking out the Medium would significantly weaken the overpowered shaman. If he didn't, he'd have to expel way too much energy in dispatching the birdmen, which defeated the entire purpose of his trap.
The kathari Outcrier's magic tendrils shot down and ensnared the necromancer, his contemplative state leaving him wide open. Skorn cried in pain as the dark magic sent jolts of torture through him.
Must I do everything?
A cloud of purple and gray banewasps materialized out of Skorn's satchel. The nasty little creatures buzzed horribly before flying over to the Medium and attacking.
The kathari shrieked in horror as its flesh was literally peeled off its body and devoured in tiny bites. As the Medium was eaten alive by the swarm of wasps, the grip of the Outcrier's magic got weaker and weaker.
Skorn pushed through the pain and whipped his spinal weapon around the birdman's neck and tightened it until the kathari's magic gave way completely and the necromancer began dragging the Outcrier to the ground.
The descent was slow, as the kathari beat its wings fervently, trying to avoid a potentially bone-breaking fall. Skorn seized the opportunity to land on his feet and yank the shaman down the rest of the way. The force of the bird's impact wrenched the whip loose. The shaman gasped for air.
Not wasting a second, Skorn summoned up the nearby bones and impaled the kathari through it's throat and chest. The necromancer quickly bent over his fallen foe and absorbed the birdman's vis in one quick motion. Then, he hastily made his way to the second Scourer's body and did the same.
Feeling rejuvenated from the life magic, Skorn took a second to catch his breath.
Bit off more then you could chew?
The necromancer reached into his satchel and pulled the skull hidden inside out.
"Master, I didn't need your help," he said. "The situation was under control."
Oh yes, you were the epitome of dominance out there.
"How am I ever supposed to learn the true extent of my powers if you keep butting in?" Skorn asked.
You won't learn much when you're being picked to the bone by kathari.
"Don't make me throw you back in the bag" Skorn warned.
Just don't forget our goal here. We're not just stumbling around collecting vis like infants.
"I know, I know," Skorn said, "but without the vis how am I supposed to get you your new body?"
Maybe if you quit wasting it all on making steeds so you don't have to walk the whole way.
"Oh, excuse me, I thought you'd want to be breathing again as soon as possible" Skorn scoffed.
By the time you're done laying out your traps and nearly getting killed, we could have been another mile down the path.
"Did you forget what it's like to have feet?" Skorn asked. "Walking over crushed bone and jagged rocks all day doesn't exactly feel great."
If I had known the Vithian boy I rescued from Unx was going to turn out to be a prima donna I would've just left you there.
"Don't even try to use that against me" Skorn spat. "You and I both know you needed an apprentice if you ever wanted to ascend to a lich. Not to mention I wouldn't have needed rescuing if your zombie horde hadn't raided my village."
You'd think such a traumatic experience would have made you tougher.
Tired of arguing with a dead sorcerer, Skorn shoved his master's skull back in the satchel.
"Just remember Master, I could crush you in one swift move" Skorn said.
Funny, I could say the same thing to you.
Snagg's friends had talked him into finally doing it. "Die for a cause Snagg" they had said. "You're life's worthless anyway."
Though he didn't necessarily agree with his race's constant sacrifice to the dragons in hopes of becoming "divine food", Snagg also had never been the vocal type. He was much more a follower then he was a leader. He had never been the strongest or the smartest amongst his tribe, and he certainly wasn't the bravest.
The more he thought about, the more it became clear to him. His friends were right. His life had no purpose and the rest of the tribe would probably prefer he was eaten over them. Who knows, maybe he'd put on a good show and nearly survive. At least then he'd be somewhat remembered.
The goblin scratched the back of his scaly, furry head and quickly picked his nose. Looking around to ensure no one was looking, he ate the treasure he uncovered.
One last snack before I die, he told himself.
For a goblin, Snagg was actually fairly tall. Unfortunately, he didn't fill out as well as he could of bulk-wise. His claws were broken from digging and he had lost all but a few teeth over the years. His hair was prematurely balding and his eyes were squinty because he often stared at the sun too long.
The dragon that he was going to feed himself to was still relatively young, and therefore willing to eat anything it could get his greedy claws on. The goblins called him Rayge, meaning "swift killer" in their language. In his short time on their mountain, the dragon had already destroyed two human villages and eaten countless goblins. He often approached unseen and destroyed everything before anyone could even prepare for his arrival.
Snagg looked over the tools he'd been given for survival. The wooden armor he wore was adorned with goat skin and bone, but it would provide Rayge with a crunchier snack then it would Snagg protection. The spear they'd given him was poorly crafted at best. The wooden shaft was rotten and the head of the spear was made of dull rock. Needless to say, the odds were against him.
The goblin stepped out on the large plateau just outside of his tribe's caverns and took a breath of fresh mountain air.
The sun was just now beginning to set, turning the sky a mixture of dull orange and vibrant red. Far below the plateau was the jungle. Up above it there was only about a dozen more caverns.
On Jund, the goblins were forced to scrape together a living in the mountains, where they were easy prey for the draconic "gods". Below them, on the base of the mountain, the humans staked their claim and below that, the savage viashino ruled over the jungles.
The thought of the crocodile-like humanoids sent a shiver down Snagg's spine. It wasn't often a goblin encountered a thrash of viashino and survived to tell the tale, but Snagg had managed to catch a glimpse of a few during a raid on a human settlement. The hulking creatures were second only to the dragons as far as intimidating looks.
Snagg shook his head, trying to remain on task. Forcing himself to inch his way towards the center of the plateau, the goblin turned back toward the caverns and whistled.
He heard two whistles in response and gulped. It was nearly time.
His tribe had engineered a way to draw Rayge's attention and alert the other tribes of the sacrifice they were making simultaneously.
Snagg listened as one of his comrades blew from the dragon horn they had collected. The sound traveled through every tunnel in the mountain and came out ten times louder.
For a few moments, there was silence. Then, a few whispers from those that had chosen to watch from the cliffs above.
Several minutes later, still nothing. Snagg started to believe that Rayge wouldn't show up at all. He let out a deep sigh of relief and turned back towards the caverns.
Just then, the clouds above him parted and he watched as the shape of a dragon descended. Snagg threw down his weapon and curled into a ball on the ground.
Rayge had gotten even bigger then last time the goblin had seen him. Now over twenty feet tall and already several hundred pounds, the dragon shook the ground upon landing. Rayge's glorious red scales glimmered in the sunlight, as did his teeth, each of which were bigger then the head of Snagg's spear. A frill of horns decorated the back of the dragon's skull, and his long snout was topped with one as well. Golden eyes focused in on the tasty morsel before him.
"To your feet, coward!" Rayge bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the caverns.
Shaking, Snagg wrapped his hand around his spear and pushed himself to his feet. He held the weapon out in front of him with one hand and covered his face with another.
"Now, prepare to die!"