Hey Gang,
Well, here we are in another spoiler season, bunch of new cards from M20 are looking friggin sweet, and we're still getting some War of the Spark story beats. Even with all that though, there's still a lot from the book that left me, well, wanting, especially when it came to Domri.
I just, I didn't get his turn. Here we have a textbook shonen kid (Outcast rising up to be hokage/wizard king/guildmaster, what have you) only for him to make almost no sense and be given a death with 0 emotional impact. I'm not mad he turned, subverting that expectation (jeez that phrase sounds like a joke at this point) would have been great, if it had made sense. This all rubbed me the wrong way, especially since I felt there were a lot of missed story beats. So, with that, I felt like writing him a bit of a head cannon build up, give him a reason to follow Bolas. It kind of slots into War of the Spark, thought not perfectly. Still, I liked it, so i thought I'd share it. Feel free to upvote and comment if you dig it, or downvote and comment if you hate it. I do have an outline planned out for another short story for the resolution between Nahiri and Sorin that I want to right after this one if there's interest, so let me know!
Silence. Or at least, what passed for silence amid the Gruul. A massive gathering of clans, something that hadn’t been seen in ages, waited amid the fires and the rising light of the sun. At the center of this gathering, not on a raised platform, not behind a podium, but planted in the middle of the crowd stood a man who seemed a boy amid the cyclops, ogres, giants, and beasts who ringed him in. His stature did not matter, for not one of the massive audience members would yet test the man who’d bested Borborgymos.
Domri stood amid his clan, his family. Clad in bones and fur, the thin yet wirey warrior raised his staff high, the bloodied weapon rising to hold the oncoming sun between the two curved horns placed on top. The horns seemed to capture the star, and the Gruul could not help but feel blood boil within the light’s heat. Though well-spoken for a Gruul, Domri had no intention of giving a long-overdrawn speech. With his staff held high Domri opened his mouth and roared into the sky. It could not be called a scream, for the man’s lung released a primal call that could only have come from the jaws of a beast. Domri howled, long and uninterrupted, and the Grrul answered, yelling in kind. Though the cries had no words, they were still filled with the magic of the wilds. Tattoos began to glow, muscles began to swell, teeth began to gnash. The chorus answered their conductor. Taking a deep breath, Domri roared again, and the earth began to move and tremble. Beneath Domri, the ground began to rise, lifting the man with the rising sun.
Near Domri, Nikya called upon the old spirits of the wild, elementals of soil, stone, and wind, forcing them to rise through the cracks. Their inhuman wails joined into the song of the Gruul, raising the clans screaming even greater heights. In the center, Domri rose higher, holding the sun between his staff with each foot he rose. The Gruul were beginning to lose themselves in the moment, no longer seeing the man, but rather only hearing the sounds. There were no words mixed into the screaming, but there was emotion, there was meaning. Every Gruuls’ mind filled with the vision of a Wilds no longer burdened by the weight of the City. Of a natural world where the City had been crushed and forgotten. Forests and mountains and beasts. No restrictions or rules other than the natural laws. The vision caused many of these warriors to weep, to wail, to cry out for this beautiful future. This man, the warrior, the leader, he made the vision seem possible, this long held dream. Domri rode this wail, his earthen stage carrying him up amid the clouds. As the cry reached a fever pitch, Domri cried out one final time, his voice carried on the wind. It would be the only word Domri would say. It was an order, a command, and a promise, all locked behind the only intelligible word spoken so far
“Destroy!” Screamed the man, and the Gruul did.
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Outside the city proper, Domri began to return to the Earth as the Gruul stampeded outward, Nikya calling down the earthen elemental who had lifted him so high. A smile was on Domri’s lips as he came back down and touched solid ground. He looked around him, at the empty field within theRrubblebelt, towards the walls and buildings of the city. Walls began to crumble almost immediately under the assault of his clans. The Gruul had been mastering the art of demolition for eons, and they were true artists when it came to the dismantling of mortared stones. The sight only made Domri smile wider, as he could just make at the curved horns of the beast that had taken a spot in the center of the City.
The Gruul had long spoken of ancient gods of nature, beasts that would bring the city down upon the heads of Azorious, boros, and the rest of those soft-headed fools. Domri had never seen these supposed Gods, had never communed with them or received any of their blessings. The one being who had blessed Domri was the boar-dragon who now set amid the middle of the city.
It happened some months back, during a fitful sleep. Resting amid the hollowed shell of an old Izzet lab, Domri tossed and turned as sweat poured from his body. His beasts stood around worried and skittish, unsure how to help their fevered companion. Despite their cries and their soft bites, despite their whimpers and the light scratches, they could not rouse him, and could not save him.
Alone, amid a field of fire and rubble, Domri looked upon a shattered hellscape. Stone sloughed under the heat of untamed fire, towers crumbled as their supports buckled and burned. While the destruction would have given others concern, Domri was elated, staring at the burning of civilization. Like many Gruul, Domri had experienced this dream numerous times, but it always ended the same way, with Domri waking back up into a world that stunk of civility. This dream was different though, because this time, Domri wasn't alone
Coal-skinned with eyes of bloodiest red, a boar of immense size stood before Domri. Its spine seemed to split the sky, and two massive sweeping tusks wrapped up and around Domri. The eyes seemed to strip the boy down to the bone, removing every defense he might have mustered against a gaze so powerful, so otherworldly. Domri’s legs gave out immediately, as he knelt before the God Pig. This wasn’t a dream, this was too tangible, to real. Domri could feel his knees scrape against stone, could feel the twisting of his stomach. He sat as one does in service, humbled before a visage of the divine.
The boar never spoke, never grunted. It’s eyes never left Domri as the crimson pupils began to shine golden. Before Domri’s eyes, the God-Pig began to shift and change, scales replacing fur, Gold pupils replacing red eyes, and emerald replacing blackened skin. Rising up on two legs, the two tusks moving skyward to become eyes that held a blood red sun like a crown jewel. The boars shift into a massive, bipedal dragon as complete, and only increased the awe Domri experienced. The beast exhaled soot that seemed to darken the sky, its wings spread wide and eclipsed the skyline. From his knees, Domri fell face forward, the sheer weight of this dragon’s presence pressing down on him. The boy was prostrate, and though no words were spoken, no commands given, Domri knew who he would serve.
After that night, Domri was visited by the boar-dragon several times. The dragon never spoke in words, but rather seemed to speak directly to Domri’s instincts. It never said or promised anything, it only showed dreamlike visions. Visions that promised everything Domri had dreamed of; power, freedom, and the end raze. Every dream ended the same way, Ravnica wiped clean and returned to nature. This vision was always the shortest, the sweetest promise that came at the end of every night. Only given a few minutes, Domri was free to explore a Ravnica reclaimed. He climbed the walls of the Azorious senate, swinging amid the vines, rode a wurm through the hollowed-out streets of Tinstreet, rode rocs and pteras through a skyline of mountains that were truly mountains. With each dream time moved forward, allowing Domri to see a Ravnica centuries down the line, each time the ruins becoming more ruined, the wildlife more vibrant, the mark of the city less evident
The dragon had never given Domri a name, had never even spoken a word to the boy. As such, the being held several titles in Domri’s mind: Boar-God, Boar-dragon, and sometimes, simply The Dragon. Though the dragon had never given its name to Dromir, it had given him so much more: the means to defeat the cyclops, de-facto leader of the Gruul, and now, finally, the End Raze. This marked the beginning of the end, the moment when the stone would be crushed to soil, and the vines would strangle civilization itself. And to the boy’s delight, he would get to lead during the most important moment in Gruul history
Whistling, Domri pounded his chest as he looked back at Nikya, before grasping on to the massive boar that came huffing along beside him. Domri wasn’t one to let his men have all the fun, and with a deep holler, Domri stormed amid his clan, pushing and jockeying for position amid the giants and ogres that joined his charge. The Gruul began to tear through the outskirt of Ravnica, in a slow spiral, pushing many of the citizens deeper into the city’s heart, deeper into the waiting blades of the strange invaders now pouring into the plane. The plan was as organized as could be expected of the Gruul, but the results showed through. As the clans rampaged at the perimeter, civilians fled deeper into the city center, where they would come face to face with the forces of the dragon. The chaos, the destruction, it was everything Domri had hoped for.
Atop his boar, Domri continued his rampage, running down azorious and boros alike, targeting any who tried to establish order His latest prey, a tenth district recruit by the look of it, couldn’t even raise his sword before Domri crumpled the gleaming helmet along with the skull inside. Hooting, Domri watched the body fall as it went under the boar’s front hooves. The mangled body that was kicked out was so bloodied and broken it was impossible to know at glance which guild the man had hailed from. Smiling back, Domri continued his ride, or he would have, were it not for the sudden appearance of a woman directly in the boar’s path.
Pulling back on the beast’s reins, Domri was taken a back as he looked on the newest arrival to the battlefield. Clad in a beautiful green raiment, wielding a bow and seemingly no other weapon, the bronze skinned woman looked around amid the fighting before her piercing eyes settled on the man astride the boar. Domri felt his heart catch in his chest as the woman looked him up and down. There was something about her, the way she smelled, the way her heart beat, Domri knew instinctually she was one with the wilds.
Without fear, the woman walked forward, and placed a calming hand upon Domri’s boar. Normally a stranger who tried something like that would be gored on the spot, but Domri’s mount seemed putty in the woman’s hand, its moist breath coming out amid huffs as he licked and nuzzled the newcomers face. She smiled gently at the beast, before looking up at the boy astride it. Domri was not met with the same smile, but he found he was just as malleable under the emerald stare.
“Ah, it would seem we’ve got another walker with us!” Shouted Domri as he leapt of the boar and patted its haunch, talking to the beast rather than any other Gruul in particular, “and by the smell of her, one who might join in on the fun!” Domri spread his arms wide amid the chaos raising his staff high as he pushed out his chest, “Names Domri! Let me welcome to the soon to be wilds of Ravnica!”
The woman did not immediately respond. Her eyes, though as vibrant as a lush jungle, held a frosted coldness as she appraised the walker before her. She seemed unable to remove her eyes from him, or rather, from the staff he wielded. Slowly and methodically, the woman released the weapon from her back, pulling the string of her bow back until a taut reverberation echoed. Staring Domri down as a Hawk stares down a vole, the woman calmly responded amidst the rabble, “Names Vivien, and I think you may have misjudged, you who wield the symbol of the dragon.” She shifted her bow’s sight towards the upraised staff before moving it back square with Domri’s exposed chest, “Any who ally themselves with that monster have nothing in common with me” With that, Vivien released her bow, and a vibrant emerald energy came hurdling towards Domri’s wide open heart.
Initially, Domri had been unconcerned. Every Gruul had taken an arrow before, most had taken several. A combination of tougher hides and tattoo-infused skin generally mitigated the damage. Most spellshots were also of little concern, as a well-placed howl to break concentration or a runic covering would protect from most control or assault magic. What came hurdling towards Domri was neither an arrow or a traditional spell. The green energy shifted and changed as it flew through the air, the line expanding and swelling before settling into the shape of a large spider with extended fangs. Domri’s casual grin fell from his face as poisoned needles drove square toward his chest. He braced for the hit, braced for the pain and poison, but he didn’t brace for the tackle from the side.
Domri was flung out of the spider’s path, only to look up as his boar, one of his oldest companions, intercepted the spider’s bite. The ghostly-green beast dug its fangs deep into the boar’s hide, eliciting a sickly squeal from the swine. Swinging its snout wide, the boar skewered the spider in the thorax, causing a quiet hiss as the ghostly energy held for only a second, before dissipating. The damage was down however. Domri rushed over to his companion’s side as the large boar collapsed into the dust, a black necrosis spreading out from the bite.
Cradling the beast's snout in his lap, Domri stared down into the dark eyes laced with fear and confusion. The poison was spreading quickly, and his boar’s breathing was becoming ragged. Domri didn’t believe in naming his allies, for they never called him by name, but the connection he felt with his beasts was stronger than almost any other Gruul beast-master. This boar had been with him from the beginning, warming Domri when both were but pups living as un-guilded amid the ruins of unclaimed Gruul turf. When Domri had fought Borborygmos, this was the one ally he’d brought with him. Now, Domri’s oldest friend was wasting away in his arms, soft squeals speaking to the animal's fear as the Gruul continued rampaging around the two. Domri’s eyes burned hot as his vision blurred, tears forcing their way out through his eyes. He held them tight, trying to contain the flood, but he couldn’t. Gruul magic didn’t just increase anger and rage, it increased all emotions.
A scream cut through the surrounding chaos, a hate and sorrow filled call that seemed to split the very battle that was surrounding the two walkers. The gruul who’d been lost in the rhapsody of the destruction all paused for a moment to look towards their guild leader. Smiles and sneers turned to stone as they waited for what happened next, forming a circle around Vivien, Domri, and the boar. Domri’s scream never stopped, it was an undulating wail that seemed to be spoken in tongues. Ancient syllables of pain that had not been heard in centuries flowed from him, his nails split his cheeks as his lungs continued releasing screams. This was one of the risks of Gruul battle magic. Countless fireside stories talked of great warriors who fell to the unchecked sadness that swelled up within them due to the loss of a loved one, collapsing on the battlefield amid dust and tears. However, the more retold stories spoke of what happened if that sadness changed into something else.
Eyes still covered in salt and water, Domri forced them open and stared at the source of his anger. Vivien stood still, though slightly shocked, at the rage directed towards her. The killing intent that filled the air turned her stomach. She still didn’t understand why the boar, a true beast whom she sensed no manipulation magic on, would sacrifice itself for this dragon’s pawn, or why said pawn would collapse in sadness at the loss of the boar. This had kept her from notching another beast, and the gaze now focused on her continued to prevent her next move.
Never removing his eyes from the woman, Domri’s scream continued. It began to change, from the wail of sadness to the howl of anguish. A few Gruul felt their smiles return as a rush of rage washed over the crowd, their markings coming alive as an anger as pure and primal as the world’s rose within their souls. Their screams joined in with their GuildMaster as they pounded their chests, dug their nails into their arms, and stomped the ground. Surrounded by the chanting of the Gruul, Domri felt something well up within him. A power, a rage, that he needed to channel. Moving on instinct, Domri took the horns of his staff in each hand. His muscles coiled and flex, and like a Roc’s wishbone, the two curved horns snapped, leaving the boy with two jagged skewers. Channeling his rage into the dragon’s gift, he let out one last howl. This one was more intelligible than the rest and spoke to the heart of every Gruul in attendance. Shouting, Domri drove the obsidian spikes into the stomach of his companion and ended on syllables that only made sense to the surrounding Gruul, “Illharg!”
The two skewers spun into the dying boar, easily sliding into its body. The battlefield fell silent as Domri’s scream came to the end, and the only sound to break the peace was a single weak heartbeat. Somehow, everyone in attendance could feel and hear the boar’s final song. It was the sound of a dying war drum, an army in retreat. Slow beats that became more and more separated, signaling the approaching end. Everyone waited, unsure what would happen when the beats stopped. As the end came near, the final beat struck, but never ended. The note hung in the air, as it did, it changed to a deep rumbling. The rumbling grew in the eardrums of the crowd, bursting a few as the noise rose to unheard of levels. Cries rose up from the crowd, as many warriors fell to their knees. Domri seemed unphased, though the blood pouring from his ears would indicate otherwise.
Domri was lost in the sight before him. His boar was changing, and its heartbeat seemed to refuse to stop. The two horns Domri had plunged into the boar were gone, lost amid the body. Their power, and the rage Domri sent in with them, seemed to be sustaining the boar. As the held beat rose to a fever pitch, it stopped. Most of the audience found the silence almost as oppressive, unsure what to do now that they lost what was becoming a constant within their minds. As the beat stopped, the sound of rending flesh replaced it, though much quieter. The boar's two large tusks fell away dropping to the ground as their place was filled in by an explosion of new, golden growths. Four prominent tusks grew in as a several others sprouted across the head and snout. As the tusks appeared, so too did the boar’s eyes. Hollow, with an unearthly green in place of pupils, the boar awoke. Rising on steady hooves, the boar’s size increased as it rose. Already large, it swelled to gargantuan size, easily as large as many of the Gruul’s most fearsome siege beasts.
A hush fell over the Gruul, their hearts too afraid to believe what stood before them. A few quiet whispers spoke the name, the name of the boar god that would trample the city under hoof and claw. “illharg” started the whispers, gaining amid the crowd as more and more onlookers came to believe, to trust that what stood before them was the promised avatar of destruction, “Illharg!” The cry rose up as the boar stood silent, staring forward at the woman who had brought its past-self low. “ILLHARG” the cries rose to a cry that could be heard around the city as the boar threw its head back and trumpeted. The sound was not a squeal or a roar, but a call to action. As the trumpeting rolled through the upturned streets and overturned buildings, Ravnica answered the call.
From the ground burst forth every manner of primal beast and elemental. Long dormant wurms plunged upwards, swallowing whole blocks before crashing down on the city bellow. Elementals stronger and more ancient than even those Nikya could call came up from between cobblestones and dirt, forming into mountains of reclaimed stone and storms of fire and wind. They rose to the call of Illharg, turning everything around the Gruul into rubble. The Gruul themselves burst into a frenzy, spreading out and returning to the wanton destruction with souls afire. Walls and windows fell before them like chaff before a sickle. All around the city Gruul felt their spirits rise as the swung out at everything around them. The chaos only served to force more Ravnicans, and walkers, to take their chances in the city center.
With his forces rising around him, Illharg continued looking forward with its dead eyes. Where Vivien’s bow swirled with energy of deepest green, as if containing the heart of a forest, the boars eyes seemed to contain a sickness. The green of plague and infection. Vivien was the only one who seemed to notice the sickly coloring, even when the boar’s back burst into viscous green flame. The Gruul had left her face to the boar, either as a gift to the boar, or a thanks to the woman for helping with their God’s creation. It mattered not, for Illharg lowered its head, and charged.
As the boar bored down on her, Vivien released a veritable menagerie on the encroaching God-head. Wolves, bears, wurms, and dinosaurs. Every apparition crashed into the boar, but was turned aside like a tide thrown back from a cliff. Those that weren’t broken upon the body of the boar found themselves caught up with the host of beasts and elementals that seemed to spawn in its hoof beats. The ghastly eyes stared forward at Vivien, through Vivien. The wall of mottled red flesh was encroaching on her as she continued her volley. Inevitable, unstoppable. As Vivien’s fingers began to bleed and her shoulder began to burn, she could feel sweat beating on her brow as she saw her end crashing before her. The last thing she felt, or rather didn’t feel, was the complete absence of breath from the snout carrying the tusks that were about to disembowel her.
But just as those golden spears were about to plunge into her, Vivien found herself caught between massive paws and lifted into the air. Looking down, Vivien saw the boar did not give her a second thought, but simply continued its charge forward, creating a stampede that would flatten whatever rose before it. Looking up, Vivien found herself in the clutches of a sphinx. The feline’s human face looked down and stated in a strangely neutral tone, “All walkers have been requested for a meeting on authority of the Guildpact, for whatever weight that still carries. I assume you have no objections? Though if you do, I have no problem dropping you where I found you”. Vivien always had a hard time reading sphinxes, and couldn’t tell if that last bit was what passed for a joke, or was a genuine offer to return Vivien to her fight with the boar. It really didn’t matter, as Vivien didn’t say anything, and simply looked down at the destruction around her, unable to keep images of her own home from flooding into her mind.
On the ground, Domri looked up at the fleeing woman, his rage cooled. Rather, his rage wasn’t cooled...it was gone. He’d poured more than a little of himself into his boar. He could feel a link with the beast, the God, still, and because of that, Domri knew the truth. His boar was no god, wasn’t even the true Illharg. It was a gift and the will of the real Boar God, the dragon who had yet to gaze upon his latest soldier. Looking towards the town center, a soft smile did spread across Domri’s face as a tinge of pride swelled within his hollow chest. Whistling softly, he called for a new mount, grabbing onto the horns of an Arynx running to join in on the stampede. Despite the empty feeling within, Domri would not be denied this moment, would not be denied his End Raze.
Submitted June 19, 2019 at 08:37PM by bugdino http://bit.ly/31HKFJB
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