planeswalker

Emilius wanted, with all his heart, to feel happy about the decision he'd made. And yes, to some degree, there was a sense of accomplishment. The words of his family, however, couldn't help but echo through his mind. Mountainhome has all you ever need. It is what our people are born and bred for. With the desert wind blowing grit into his wool, the cool mountain air replaced by an unforgiving sun, and his hooves sinking halfway into the sand that made just walking forward an exhausting endeavor, for a few seconds he found himself agreeing with them. But it was too late to turn back, and soon the patronizing words turned sour in his head. He would show them that a goatkin could be more than just a mountaindweller. He steeled himself against the heat and wind, pulling the cloth tighter over his body, and continued on.

His canteens running low, he knew that he had to find a source of potable water soon. His people were not completely starved for resources, and as he was able to pilfer a map from their stores, it told him that an oasis was not far away. It wasn't long until he found it, the green plants and brilliant flowers standing out against the endless sea of sand and cacti. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, but edging closer, he saw that, much to his relief, it was real. More unfortunately, he wasn't alone.

Others had set up camp around the oasis, thick canvas tents standing to ward off the sandstorms. But who was in them? He cautiously approached, but there wasn't anywhere to hide, and the camp's inhabitants discovered them quickly, a number of heads appearing from the tents. Large, furry ears appeared over the loose wrappings. Foxfolk. It was his first encounter with these strange people, and he had no idea if these particular individuals would be friendly.

He attempted politeness, waving in their direction, which only drew barking laughter.


"Long way from the mountains, billygoat!" One chimed, their lithe body slinking from the tent. More followed, and they began to circle him, sizing him up. Emilius huffed indignantly at the comment.

"I can go anywhere that I want. For now, all I want is some water. Just let me have some and I'll leave quietly."

More laughter from the foxes, and they slowly started to move in. He saw a glint of metal, clutched tightly in one of their paws.

"No can do. We don't get your kind around here very often. Bet you got some real interesting stuff in those bags of yours."

"Heh... Bet we could find a use for the rest of 'im, too."

"Some pretty wool he's got there~"

He snorted aggressively, bearing his hooves into the sand and ready to spring, but he knew he was desperately outnumbered, surrounded on all sides by the thieves that he now knew weren't intending to let him go alive. His heart started to pound in his chest and in his ears. Adrenaline started to reach a fever pitch, and he understood. If he was going to die, he would go out fighting with everything he had.

He threw his entire weight forward, catching one of the foxes in the ribs and feeling some crack underneath his horns. Behind him, the others yipped and yelped, descending on him with shimmering blades. He felt, for a split second, the knives pierce his flesh.

But as soon as he felt the sting... it faded. He opened his clenched eyes to a desert exactly like the one he had been in before, but it no longer seemed real. It was like he was standing on a drawing, an empty, flat representation, lifeless with every color muted. And the second that realization hit him, he was struck by a bizarre, irresistable urge.

Walk.

And walk he did, as if he walked right off the pages of a book. His hooves dug into nothingness as he continued forward. He saw every other aspect of their plane... yes, that was the right word for it, plane. An unforgiving, humid jungle. Dark, solemn buildings where the rain never stopped. A forest of twisted, perfectly-arranged plantlife.

He kept walking.

He walked past a dark land, old, stoic houses standing quietly under a silvery moon, where the growls of predatory creatures echoed in the night streets.

He walked past a river that looked like a brushstroke through a verdant plane, leading to crashing waterfalls. Islands and buildings hovered serenely over the turbulent waters.

He walked past a nightmare of gray, screaming metal, where no life remained but shuffling porcelain creatures. But, to his relief, this image was gone the moment he comprehended it.

Eventually, he came to his senses, finding that once more he could control his legs. As he came to a stop, the indistinct flashes of strange landscapes finally deciding on a definite form. It was hardly the strangest place he'd seen, but still everything was bizzare and alien. Shifting sands and craggy mountains were nowhere to be seen, instead he stood in a city that seemed arranged to perfection. Every building, every street, every mechanical creature that plodded by on constructed legs seemed perfectly calculated. Emilius might have been enchanted by just how different it was from his home, if the complete sterility didn't leave him just a little uncomfortable.

Then he noticed the people, and how every eye was on him. Mostly humans, and things that looked like humans, but also the massive, slitted eyes of a sphynx who was draped over a building. She curiously reached out a paw, patting the side of Emilius's body as she tilted her head and fluttered her wings, and soon the others started to move in, chittering question after question that, though he knew the language, he still couldn't seem to understand.

Have to think. Have to get home. Then he can figure out what's going on properly, he thought. Though the locals looked rather offended at being ignored by their strange new guest, his concern with them finally faded into view as he followed the pull of the spark he now felt inside him. Yes, it knew what to do as once again he was lifted up, out of the scene.

And that was when he felt true exhiliration, as finally he could wrap his head around what had happened. What he'd felt all his life, the disatisfaction, the longing to go and do more, never being able to settle down like the rest of his family. It all made sense.
He was indeed destined for so much more. He had ascended.

The spark knew the way home, and he knew he had to go back. Not permanently, of course. But long enough to tell them that a new Planeswalker had arisen.