Welcome, planeswalkers. After having travelled across the vast reaches of the multiverse, you all have decided you need some rest and relaxation. You find yourself sitting in the stands of Valor's Reach, a resplendent sporting arena in Cloudspire City, the largest city on the plane of Kylem. Valor's Reach is home to numerous games and sporting events, but the most popular involve combat games pitting a varying number of combatants against each other. The goal of these combat games is not to kill the opponent; indeed, homunculus referees work to ensure that no lasting physical harm befalls the combatants or, in the case of an errant fireball spell, the audience. No, games are won through the accumulation of style points. As such, combatants work hard to wear flashy clothes and attack opponents in as stylistic a manner as possible. The most popular games in Valor's Reach are two-on-two combat challenges where two pairs of fighters challenge each other. Fans, especially goblins, rabidly cheer on their favorite duos and rivalries can get quite fierce at times.
You all have been watching the contest for a decent while when all of a sudden an elf announcer, dressed in a bright green robe with long yellow ribbons magically waving all around him, announces a special contest, the annual "Make a Wish Charity Royale," in which one sick child will gain the opportunity to join his two favorite duos in a contest against five random audience members. The elf calls out five random seat numbers, all of which correspond to yours.
"The rules are simple! The teams of five will compete against each other in a traditional brawl. Points will be awarded by the judges as usual, and the winning team will receive a small cash sum. Additionally, the audience members can purchase extra points for their favorite team, with all proceeds going to Make a Wish!" the elf shouts, excitedly, voice magically booming throughout the arena. "It's a contest of strength, style, and your wallets! We shall give the teams an hour to strategize. Until then, sit tight! We will have more exciting matches for you in the interim!"
In a private locker room, the five of you have a chance to introduce yourselves to each other and talk strategy. Here's what I need from all of you (remember, you're all starting at level 3):
Color Identity: (try to keep this to, at most, three colors. I'm using color instead of alignment. And yes, in case you *cough*Jon*cough* are playing an artifact creature, you would just list your identity as "colorless)
How Your Spark Was Activated:
Plane First Travelled To:
What You've Been Doing Since:
Once everyone submits this information, and uploads their character sheet, we shall get started! Deadline is Monday, August 26.
What You've Been Doing Since: On Dominaria Serra's followers in her battle against Belzenlok recruited Willhelm in to the folds of their army. I have since been battling to maintain order and bring peace to embattled planes.
How Your Spark Was Activated: Al was created on Mirrodin, a last-ditch effort to put an end to the Phyrexian invasion. The plane has been overrun, but there are a few pockets of resistance around. It was made in one of these pockets as a warning system for attack and the first line of defense for the settlement. One day, a large horde of Phyrexians storms the settlement, slaughtering those who put up too much resistance and compleating those who succumb to their might (compleation is the process of transforming someone into a Phyrexian). All hope lost, Al tries to do everything in its power to save someone, anyone. It spots a human, the partner of its creator, being attacked by a Phyrexian elf, plunging her oily sickled finger into his chest to compleat him. It uses all its strength to kill her, saving the man from compleation. However, his wounds are too great and he is moments from death. In gratitude, he transfers his Spark over to Al, knowing that if he risked a planeswalk he could spread Phyrexian oil throughout the multiverse and doom it all. So he gives the Spark to Al, entrusting it to keep the spirit of Mirrodin alive. Al planeswalks away as he dies, landing on Ravnica. It's so overcome with emotions that It can barely function; It's practically catatonic. So the Orzhov priest takes it, seeing its potential, and erases its memory to make it an obedient worker. Whenever traces of Mirrodin or the emotional trauma of its home come flooding in, the priest erases Al's memory again.
Name: Marcellus Sertorius Color Identity: White Black Race: Human Class: Fighter/Rogue Home Plane: Innistrad How Your Spark Was Activated:
After spending a few years as a hitman/bounty hunter, Marcellus decided it was time to settle down and live the easy life. He moved to the frontier town of Kessig, a wild area that was ravaged by a scourge of werewolves. Being far away from other settlements, Kessig is somehow vital to trade on the plane. Figuring there would be some kind of racket there he could join up and live off easy jobs, Marcellus decided to set up shop. Within a week Marcellus was part of a gang that had a set up as caravan guards that would occasionally take some goods from the caravans and set up fake attacks to charge more money after the trip as ‘hazard pay’. It of course wasn’t honest, but it wasn’t too harmful to those involved. That was good enough for Marcellus’s barely existent conscious. Everything was going great until the fateful time when some of the gang jumped out for an ‘attack’ but were malformed into horrible tentacled monstrosities due to the influence of Emrakul. The shock of this event caused Marcellus’s spark to ignite and planeswalk to Kaledesh.
Plane First Travelled To: Kaladesh What You've Been Doing Since:
Well, it looks like I have a spark now. Never thought this would happen, but here I am are. I have now joined the level of the elite heroes that use their sparks to do great and mighty things! How bothersome. Recently I've been leading a revolution! Well... I've been helping at least. Other, more important, people do all the talking and protesting, and I am more of the one that moves around behind the scenes and delivers 'messages'. I feel like I am doing the same old dirty work I have always done, but I guess the intrinsic value of 'good' is who I am doing the dirty work for. An underground resistance against a totalitarian government would be the good guys, right? I am still new to this whole, ‘caring about others’ stich. I guess the important thing is I’m trying. I accidently left Kaladesh before I figured out how to control this planeswalking thing, and it was such horrible time to leave to, it was a week before a huge movement in the revolution… well, they are probably doing fine without me. I promised myself I would go back as soon as I could, but I couldn’t turn down a visit to this fantastic stadium!
Name: Orion Color Identity: Green/White Race: Human Class: Ranger Home Plane: Theros
How Your Spark Was Activated: Setessa is a city full of green, where both the forest and people prospered, much to the anger of the Kragma Minotaurs. Orion was a member of a Scouting Corp whose main role was to prevent the incursion of these Minotaurs into Setessa land. During and outing to drive a band of Kragma away, Orion was separated from his party. He wandered deep into a heavily wooded area where the trees grew so dark he swore he could see constellations in their blackness. Here he saw a wolf caught in a minotaur trap, however when he freed the beast it began to shimmer and glow with those very same constellations. The wolf leapt at him, Orion closed his eyes in reflex. When he opened them he was in a hot and humid jungle. With the wolf panting by his side, Orion realized he wasn't anywhere near Setessa any more.
Plane First Travelled To: Ixalan
What You've Been Doing Since: On his time in Ixalan Orion realized this must be destiny calling, from some force on Theros or beyond, and he intended to find it and carry it out. He spent time bonding with the wildlife on Ixalan protecting them from the encroaching Vampiric Conquistadors before discovering how to control his planeswalking. Since then he has returned to Theros trying to piece together his destiny and what his purpose truly is.
How Your Spark Was Activated: Being a condemned man was something no one had ever wanted. The threat of not reaching the Blessed Sleep was usually enough to keep people on the right path. Of course things had not been going well. Avacyn had returned but something was different. Others in the church had been acting strangely as well but he had made the foolish act of commenting on it. His heresy was made clear enough that there was no turning back. Yet he still hoped for Avacyn's mercy and an overturning of the slanderous charges. But on the day that was to be his execution, there would be naught but an empty cell.
Plane First Traveled To: Theros
What You've Been Doing Since: Plainly speaking, finding his faith. It wasn't Avacyn's will that he was spared, nor was it the bickering gods of the unfamiliar new plane he found himself on. He had spent enough time there trying to make sense of it all but he hadn't received much guidance. Kruphix had at least told him that his destiny dwelt elsewhere. His recent trip home revealed everything in shambles and it's god dead. Not able to bear to find the fate of his family, he jumped into the Blind Eternities once more.
Thank you, planeswalkers for introducing yourselves to each other. You all realize that there is only about half-an-hour left before the rumble you all have been randomly selected to participate in. You all are sitting in a stone room, long benches in front of the walls lined with various costume elements of all kinds. The five of you have 30 minutes to strategize before the rumble begins. What do you do?
A man in brown, soft leathers looks around, his green eyes taking in each of the members of this randomly chosen group, sizing them up. A look of resignation shows on his slightly ragged face during the process. He steps forward and proclaims, "We are supposed to fight without killing, and be flashy about it. I am bad at both of those things." The look of resignation is replaced by a hard set expression. "I have no special abilities other than being a good shot and if I get in close with someone, they normally don't escape my grasp alive." Slowly and with an eye roll, a new expression crosses Marcellus's face, one of reluctant acceptance. "Any suggestions on how to be... Flashy" He finishes with emphasis.
A tall, midnight black Golem steps into the light, emerging from a dark corner. His eyes shine yellow in an otherwise ambiguous face, and parts of his chest and arms glimmer as he enters the light. Most of him is a flat, matte black, but his arms, thighs, and chest have a carbon-fiber gloss to them that seems to reflect light as his command. As he starts to speak, his mouth strangely doesn't move, but the sounds echo from somewhere inside his throat, softly whispering out into the room with a slight metallic clang.
"We hit hard and fast. There is no reason to draw this out. The spectacle will be how quickly we dispose of our enemy with sheer force and prowess. As for anything extra..."
His body starts to morph, the black hexagonal patterns in his carbon fiber chest glistening and changing color, then changing texture as his bare, naked form starts to add depth and folds. He sprouts green robes and long yellow ribbons before his face changes into the elf announcer. (Casting Disguise Self He holds up his now light skin colored hands and balls them into fists, looking at them curiously before - with a small grunt - his arms transform into two short-sword size blades. The edges of the razor sharp blades - still the color of the elf's skin - shine as they catch the dim light.
Somehow, the once friendly face of the announcer now seems terrifying in his passive, lifeless glare.
"... this will be enough to confuse the enemy, I think."
An man with short curly hair and heavily decorated leather armor on his chest and pteruges on his legs laughs as he puts on his helmet with a dark red plume. "That is a wondrous trick my friend, perhaps if we survive this you may teach it to me!" Orion walks over to Marcellus and claps his back "As for you, aim for the fleshy parts. Things tend to die slower that way and if you get hit maybe over exaggerate when you take a blow. Over all let's maybe not make it seem too easy, the audience needs to get their money's worth!" Punctuating his sentence with a deep booming laugh. He then crouches down and pets his wolf and asks it "Are you ready for another hunt, my friend?"
A tall husky man with a machetie and hunting rifle strapped to his back over a bearskin jacket and a .45 caliber pistol strapped to his hip grunts, "*snort*... keep that mutt on a short leash friend. Where I come from beasts like that are mostly found mounted over a fireplace." Without breaking eye contact with the wolf, Bill pulls out his revolver and fires a shot into the corner of the room. A fly that had been buzzing around the room falls to the ground, still alive but wingless. "As for flair and showmanship, I think I can dazzle a few plebeians.”
Vojmir sighs. He still wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten wrapped up in this whole mess. Finishing donning his well worn armor, he rises slowly with a jingling of metal. "Theatrics are a bit much. I think I'll be happy if we manage to hold our own. Our opponents are supposed to be professionals and we," he gestures to the assorted men around him, "Are not." He almost thinks to escape the plane once more but the motley bunch would surely need him. The multiverse was cruel as ever. "Let's not dither any longer. I'm old enough as it is."
As you all finish strategizing, a short human woman with a clipboard steps into your locker room. "Folks, if you're ready, it's time to get things started." She holds the curtain back and gestures you all into the sandy arena. The elf announcer from earlier descends into the center of arena on a floating blue pedestal, controlled by the homunculus referees stationed on the arena's outer edge.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to your main event! On my left, two of your favorite duos and their little friend! Give it up for Okaun, Eye of Chaos!"The elf pauses briefly to allow for applause between announcing each name. "Zndrsplt, Eye of Wisdom! Pir, Imaginative Rascal! Toothy, Imaginary Friend! And last but certainly not least, their special guest of honor, Korkuth, Vicious Buttkicker Supreme!!!!" The crowd goes wild asyour five opponents step into the arena: a one-eyed horned cyclops with a small blue homunculus perched on his shoulder; a curly haired dark-skinned human boy lifted in the air and wrapped in a large blue toothy-mawed monstrosity's tentacles; and a short young orc boy, wearing a blue tunic with a white star emblazoned on the front.
"And to my left, their challengers! Alloy, the Metallic Wonder! Orion, Star-Born Hunter! Marcellus, Backwoods Brute! Bill Coyote, Frontier Sharpshooter! And finally, Vojmir, the Condemned!"
The crowd gets on its feet once more, hungry for the fight to come. "People of Valor's Reach!" the announcer shouts as he rises far above the Arena floor, back to his box high in the stands. "Let's get ready to RUMBLE!"
The five of you stare across the 75-foot wide circular arena at your five challengers. Korkuth is flanked by his two favorite fighting pairs. He smacks his fist into his hand, trying to look as intimidating as a 12 year-old orc can be. A loud trumpet sound blasts across the arena, and your five opponents rush out towards you.
Smiley and Pearce are in the first initiative group. Then the enemy. Ben, Jon, and Steven are in the second initiative group. Fist group will have post first, then I will take the enemy's turn. Then the second group will go. Once all the second group goes, we will start the cycle over again. Kick some ass.
Marcellus takes off running toward the bottom side of the arena, stopping close to the wall to try and get an advantages position on the group of rivals. As he sprints away people might here him mumbling something about "Fleshy bits and nonlethal, fleshy bits and nonlethal..." while drawing two small hand crossbows toward the large 'fleshy' looking cyclops. Surely a target like that will be a good nonlethal target. After reaching the slightly flanking and hopefully advantageous position he fires both crossbows, then tosses the one in his shield arm to the ground and lets the shield slide into the ready position.
Attack: 8 - Damage if hit: 8 Off-hand shot: 11 - Damage if hit: 9