mephisto_907
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Planeswalker
The battles raged around me, and I still didn't have my answers. I was not a son of this world, nor did I have any vested interest in it... why did I come here? Why did I come to this plane, what was I seeking? A simple wave of my hand put the advancing warriors to sleep, that I could step through unhindered as I passed another gate toward an underground access.

The smell of rot and water were thick, down here, far more familiar scents than the rubble and fire of the streets above, but not any more comforting to me. The scents that would make me feel at home were those of cold, gleaming darksteel and oil, the smell of progress and advancement. Though I had barely managed to escape the grasp of such things, and so recently, already I longed for them again.

Dark, sidelong glances were thrown my way as I continued to walk forward, doing my best to appear unassuming. My home had never seemed like a home, and that was why I took up the mantle. Only whispers on the wind let me know there were others, as I passed the many worlds through the aether. Nichol Bolas. Jace Belleren. Lilliana Vess. Vraska. I was not alone, but these others... none seemed amenable to a companion, from the sound of it, and all of them had their own private machinations in the woodwork.

That was why I had come, I realized, exchanging a few coins to pass through a blocked passage toward another surface access. I had no plans. I had no grand scheme, aside from finding my way back to the strange, metal world that had seemed so welcoming and simultaneously hostile. But there were those here whose inscrutable plans, my own suspicions thought, would bring me back there. Too much was coming to pass here, in this Ravnica. I had to watch and see what came of it, and try to stay out of the way. I would make my way to the seat of the Azorius guild... if any place were a safe haven in this world, such a bastion of law must be it. A place to hopefully weather the coming storm.