“You want to know who the big players are?” The hooded man spat as he flicked something out of his teeth with a small wooden pick “Well, each one has a tale that’d last an age.... heck one of them has his story written across the walls of an entire plane”
“The short versions will do....” The hooded man paused for a moment, then carried digging into his gums with his simple wooden tooth pick.
“Miss alot of details with the short versions... But, eh... You probably don’t have the coin for the long ones anyway”
Once long ago there was a beautiful plane called Chidoll, famous for its rolling hills and golden fields. Unfortunately such beauty and ‘wealth’ does not go unnoticed by those who look upon all the planes with hungry eyes. The called it the day of Vohgola, the End to me and you, and for many it was the day the Void Maw’s descended on peaceful Chidoll.
Now as you should know by now a Planewalker is a one in a million mage who’s born with a spark in him, but it takes some sort of inner journey of truth or a climatic event to finally unleash that sparks power.
For Izotz nothing was more climatic then watching his world be devoured by the Void Maw’s. Now much of Izotz younger life is lost to us but is known is that he was an ice mage of great power, but rumour’s had spread that he had begun to dabble in darker arts. Usually such accusations would lead to Izotz hasty execution, but it was actually these qualities that saved him and his world from the Void Maw’s. When they burst into his room and devoured everything he had ever known and loved he did what any rational thinker would do.
He exploded in rage. His suddenly wild emotions clashed with the very philosophy of the magic he used and while it gave him the power to push back the devouring hordes, he knew his erratic thoughts would soon grow so out of control that he’d lose all of his magic. Desperate and alone Izotz froze his left hand and plunged it into his chest, gripping his heart so tightly that it began to slow until finally stopping.
Half of Chidoll froze in an instant.
Time moved on and the Void Maw’s were forgotten by the people of Chidoll, and the great ice peak just became another landmark. But ice is still water deep down screaming for change and the sound of crashing waves, and it could not last forever.
Over the years the ice begun to slowly melt away and the people of Chidoll moved into the new cold but hospitable lands of their ancient ancestors. Then Izotz returned to his world and begun a terrible campaign of death and frozen screams. Izotz was a cold thinker in the most literal of sense and he’d come to the conclusion that the only way to seal away the Void Maw’s forever was to encase the entire plane of Chidoll in ice.
So now he fights against his own people to seal away an evil that they do not know or care about.
The March of Death and Madness
Phrixos is unlike other Planeswalkers in that he does not have a true goal or aim, just a singular ideal.
It is just unfortunate that his ideal runs along the idea that all life in existence should die.
No one really knows where he came from but it’s believed his world was set upon by demons. In all likelihood Phrixos was probably one of the mage’s who unleashed these fiends upon his own Plane, and paid the ultimate price for it. When he was killed his Planeswalker spark was unleashed and he found himself on a new plane, but he had awoken to some sort of universal truth during his transformation and ever since he has spread death where ever he has gone.
The wall exploded in a blinding flash of lightning and fire and for a moment Phrixos was rather surprised. Five figures flew into the room and started chanting and pointing their weapons at Phrixos as he sat upon his scorched stained throne.
“Now see here-“ With a deafening roar lightning arched across Phrixos’s body and burst into green flames. A blue circle enclosed him as he fell to the floor screaming in pain, and bit by bit his body began to vanish. By the end of it all that was left was his head, half a torso and a skeletal arm reaching for the ceiling.
As the hero’s gave out a sigh of relief a clapping began to come from the shadows, and Phrixos stepped into the light.
“Wow... I’ve seen attacks in my time... But wow, you must really hate me? I mean, if I’d taken that I might have died... Ha!”
“That’s.... Thats impossible... I felt your essence... that was you-“
“Yes that was me... Well for a moment it was anyway, then it was some guy called Garlarn... Didn’t know him very well, so I won’t miss him”
“Monster, I’ll kill you with my bare hands-“ As the angel began to step forward his face lit up in agony and he could no longer move.
“Ah, Now see that’s where your wrong... See your going to die here” Turning his hip Phirxos reached into a large pouch attached to his side and took out a small wooden figurine “Honestly I wasn’t sure I was gonna make these in time... But I’m glad I did make them... The only problem is it’s a very fussy spell and needs six targets of great power” Holding up the figure the hero’s could make out that it was shaped like a small black drake they had seen before “This is of course why I don’t name my pets” he said as it fell to the floor and smashed into a hundred pieces.
One of the hero’s started shaking, using all of his willpower to try and take a step forward.
“Ah. I see one of you’s realised what’s happing here... unfortunately it’s quite impossible to move now” Taking out another figure Phirxos smiled as the Hero’s recognised who it looked like “See, your souls are in these little models at the moment... so technically their your bodies... and wood doesn’t move, dose sit? Course this woods special, cause it’s very brittle” with a crack the model snapped in half and the hall was full of blood as one of the hero’s burst in half.
“Ohhh.... That was shocking... I wonder what would happen if I smashed this bag against this wall?”
“Sir! Are you.... fine?” One of his loyal minions ran desperately into the room before stopping before the pools of blood.
“Oh I’m quite alright.... How goes the battle?”
“B-badly my lord... However the dark council believes if we pool all our mana we might still be able to seize the day...”
“True... True....” Phirxos sat back in his chair curling his beard in thought, then sat forward and snapped his fingers “Wait, I got a plan!” And then vanished.
It was only when the attackers finally reached the throne room that he realised Phirxos was not coming back.
Many people make the mistake of assuming that Knights are merely rich soldiers, and this is a grave misunderstanding that is usually short lived. While a solider will fight for family and home a knight can have far more terrifying motivations.
On the plane of Avforna there existed a kingdom called Learsl that was under threat from countless enemies. Some were invading barbarians, nations envious of Learsl’s of great wealth and even demons that besieged their very souls. Buckling under the countless pressures the sixth King, who’s name has been forgotten, turned to his court mage to find a way to save his nation.
Ezekiel was a proud but honest man, and even though he knew the quest was pointless he could not turn a blind eye to his king’s suffering. For years Ezekiel experimented with ancient artifacts, fonts of pure white mana, yet he could not find a way to beat back his nations foes. This is when Ezekiel turned to black magic, in hopes of finding a way of creating an invincible army, after all if his army could not be killed it would not matter what was sent against them.
But Ezekiel was not an evil man and would never consider animating soulless corpses in a depraved and purely evil act. Yet as time went on he began to see no other way. The problem Ezekiel had encountered after studying corpses is that when a person dies their soul is usually at peace and gives up all notions of living and moves on very quickly. It was when he question the spirit of a small farming boy that Ezekiel realised he needed to find men and women who would never accept death, never surrender and never accept defeat.
Ezekiel found his men and women within the Knighthood of his land. Devoted to the ideal of honour and duty, Knights were born into this world to defend the people and fight for their king no matter what. The dedication the Knights showed Ezekiel humbled him, and he knew he’d found his answer.
Willingly the Knights gathered before the grand ritual Ezekiel had made, and swore their eternal servitude to King and Country. If done correctly the spell would permanently connect the Knights Souls to their bodies, and when death took their physical forms they needed only to be roused from their slumber and the spell would instantly heal their tattered form, ready to fight again. Ezekiel did not expect to survive the ritual, but he was more than ready to do his duty like all those who had gathered before him.
Ezekiel however did more than survive the ritual, his ascension to a planeswalker empowered the spell more than he ever dreamed possible. But he could never have predicted the terrible price they would all have to pay. When the ritual was finally completed half the knights went insane on the spot and transformed into ghoulish figures to match their new found madness, their once proud general turned into a horrific monster who now lived off the blood of others.
In outrage the King had the many of the knights executed, their black blood flooding the square of the castle. Ezekiel was beside himself with grief over what he had done, but he was still bound to his King and sent the remaining knights forward into battle.
What he saw on that battlefield would haunt Ezekiel forever.
The passion and fury of his knights went beyond the madness he saw from the changed knights, with righteousness burning in their hearts Ezekiel’s knight not only destroyed the invading army, they destroyed their villages, their castles, their cities, their entire nation burned as the Knights swept forward with fire and steel. Even the Knights that had been executed returned to the frontlines, and angry that their brothers had taken the glory all for themselves spurred them all onto more battles against other nations.
No one could stop them, Ezekiel pleaded with them to stop, but they would not listen to him. He turned to his king to make them stop this mad mission, but rather than stopping his king actually began to endorse this terrible path. Soon only the kingdom of Learsl remained on the plane of Avforna, and Ezekiel wept for what he had done.
Yet Ezekiel’s ordeal was far from over, and with the fighting finally over his Knights approached him.
“We are ready”
“I.... I know.... But... I’m sorry.... There’s.... There’s no one left”
“..... You do not understand my Lord, the war is not over.... There are still enemies for us to fight” In horror Ezekiel realised what his Knights meant. As a Planeswalker he could not only travel to other planes, but he could also transport others with him.
“You.... No! I cannot!”
“You must.... else.... without war, why do we exist?”
Without a purpose the knights would be forever stuck in a state far worse than death, and Ezekiel finally learned of the final price of the terrible curse he had afflicted on his knights. Tears streaming down his face Ezekiel opened a door to another plane, praying that he would one day be forgiven.
The knights rejoiced. There would be more death and glory to come.