[NoR] - [24] - No Shame in Flight

A legion of Phyrexians poured into the room, armor clanking as they lined the walls, preventing any escape. The ring of partisans shimmered in the light of the portal. Razel backed against the metal spears restraining the gate, ‘walking repeatedly and landing again and again inside the portal chamber.

[NoR] - [23] - At Last

Ceramic fingers clicked against each other as the Planeswalker got used to his new form, adjusting quickly to the porcelain exoskeleton. His footfalls clicked against the hewn stone, carrying him to the lift. A short Phyrexian, his faceless grin forever emblazoned across his head, looked quizzically at the ‘priest’ approaching. He thought better of asking questions as Razel stepped to the lift, standing and expecting silent functionality. The treatment was expected, and dispelled some of the reservation the Phyrexian had. With a clunk of the switch, the winch turned on and began to lower them to the ‘ground’ level.

[NoR] - [22] – [IK05] – Lost in your Head

Your eyes blink open, the grogginess of sleep still clouding your vision. You adjust yourself beneath the soft cotton, rolling over to rest your arm on the woman beside you. Her skin is warm, goosebumping as you run your fingers down her back. The night was not intended to end that way, but you can’t complain. Allowing yourself a chance to connect with another helped to reassure your shaky view of the world around you. You wonder vaguely what will change tomorrow, how the continued volley of chaos could possibly intensify. Deciding against worrying about it any further, you close your eyes, enjoying the peace while you can.

[NoR] - [21] - When In Rome

The caravan was filled to the brim with inductees, every available seat occupied by the feeble, while those capable plodded along beside it. The Priests leading the armored beast in the front of the train maintained a constant murmur as they continually invoked their hymns. Razel stood near the back, keeping his eyes on the group before him. No sign of malcontent was evident during the entire leg of the journey from the church to the gate. The guard, seeing their approach, motioned to open the inner door of the lock. The pilgrims piled into the compact quarantine, the gate sealing behind them as the last stepped in. A hiss from the outer door was followed by the deafening roar of the wind tearing past the dome outside, massive banks of dust rolling across the waste and obscuring whole fields of view.

[NoR] - [20] - Machine Priests

The stench of unwashed masses filled the safety of the dome. The magical shield erected over the settlement to protect from the sudden violence of their weather had thrummed sub-audibly for years now. Many of the inhabitants longed for the days where their world was filled with light and life, before the darkening of the skies. Beggars and Refugees lined the streets, most from distant places whose protections had failed them for one reason or another. Several coughed sickly into their hands, the mucus thick with the oily black smog that choked the air beyond their shields. A cart made its way along the road, piling the freshly dead on to it so that they could be disposed of in a relatively sanitary manner.

[NoR] - [19] – [IK04] – With no Direction

The door opens into a compact playhouse attached to a bar, the stage currently mobbed by a swarm of cultists intoxicated through more than just liquor. The three parties onstage make their roles painfully clear. The referee, at the back, oversees the proceedings. This revue is run by an individual who has flensed the flesh from their face, the skeletal grimace unwaveringly taking in the proceedings. One ‘combatant’, a short dwarven fellow in stolen Izzet attire, seeks to overcome the lyrical witticism of a particularly unpleasant ogre female.

[NoR] - [16] - Deceitful Debate

A shriek like a dying vulture cut through the air. The moonlight was still bright, although the planeswalkers guessed about two-thirds of the night had passed them by. At the sound of the monster the whimpers in the far recesses grew quiet. Sudaj dusted the grime off of his hands, curious as to what Razel had planned.

“So setting aside your crazy talk about machine people, what are we going to do with the thing here?”