3- Myr Sire
The Mephidross was corrupted by the influence of it's new Phyrexian inhabitants. The smoke chimneys continued to spew noxious gasses into the air, making visibility difficult. But not enough to hinder the eyesight of the Elf assassin who hid on a perch of one such chimney. Ezuri had sent this Elf to scout into Phyrexian territory in order to get an idea of the enemy's movements, and this Elf was good at remaining hidden.
He was also instructed to eliminate any targets of opportunity. Though he couldn't locate any of the Praetors he suspected that lead the Rotters, he had found and assassinated several of their corrupted agents and contagion spreaders. Now, he stalked a lone Myr Sire. Though by itself it wasn't a threat, killing it meant one less creature for the Phyrexians to spread their toxins.
The Myr Sire was oblivious to its surroundings. It trudged through the knee-deep bog with no real thought of it's destination. It's black, spiny body seemed to melt into the darkness of the swamp around it. As a servant of Phyrexia, it didn't fear aggression from any other Phyrexians. But it never occurred to it that a Mirrian may have infiltrated into Phyrexian territory.
The Elf drew an arrow into his bow as silently as a shadow creeping across the surface at high noon. He steadied his breathing and willed his arms still as he prepared for his strike. The anticipation of the kill quickened his heart beat, the thrill of a predator taking the life of it's prey was exciting to the Elf. Yet even now, he kept himself focused, least the distraction cause him to miss his target. When his fingers loosened, and the arrow flew from the bow, a surge of ecstasy went up his spine. The arrow flew true, impaling itself through the side of the Myr's beak like head, piercing it's metallic brain and broke through the opposite side. Instantly, the Myr Sire stopped in mid stride, lingered for the briefest of moments, then toppled over, landing into the muck and slowly sank into the pit.
Believing his task complete, the Elf shoulder-slung his bow, climbed down the chimney and quickly departed from the area least he be discovered.
As the Myr Sire's body rested, half buried by the swamp, the cavity in it's torso bursted and ejected a lump of metal. The object began to twitch as a pair of arms and legs unfolded and extended themselves from it's core, until finally, a beak shaped head rose and locked into place on it's neck. This Phyrexian Myr was reborn from its death.
For the Phyrexians, death is not an end, nor a one-time occurrence.
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