Consequence for opening Pandora's box
Characters: Yawgmoth and anyone who runs into him
Time: Evening
Location: On a street nearest the Lime-bean of Summoning
Content: Yawgmoth arrives in Chicago and is quite curious about the new world around him.
Format: Prose
Warnings: The inner thoughts of a sociopath? Otherwise None.
It was an odd feeling to have legs underneath him again, even more so when he finally took the first few steps across the asphalt. For most people, they would immediately assume that such a feeling was simply nostalgia, but Yawgmoth was almost sure that wasn’t the case. The feeling of nostalgia required some sense of reluctance for change or the some small wish for things they couldn’t have anymore. The Lord of Phyrexia felt none of that. It wasn’t like he never felt the sensation before. Even when he no longer had a physical body in the last few thousand years, he had plenty of experiences through the minds and bodies of his people to not feel any regret or longing. As he took more steps however, the odd feeling kept arising. Hm. Peculiar.
But what stood all around him was far more interesting.
His leather doctor’s bag swung very lightly as he continued to walk down the street, its leather strap held firmly in his right hand. To his left, his arm laid straight but tense, always ready to draw his sword if needed. Not that any mortal weapon could harm him, but it would be best not to lose his Newt body so soon since his arrival.
His eyes however, couldn’t help but constantly watch everything around him. This wasn’t the first time to see such a crowded environment that yielded little ground for their own development, but there so many towers that reached into the sky and so little smokestacks to support the amount of population that needed to to dwell there in order to be of some use. The only other option for support would be magic, but Yawgmoth wasn’t feeling a pulse in the air like Power stones usually felt like. Strange.
Ah well, that was why he here anyway, to figure out these mysteries. There wasn’t anything that could put a stop his children’s hunger when it started, but there’s always the chance there might be something useful amongst the unevolved trash.
he caught sight of a drawing on what appeared as a bulletin board near a bench. The closer he approached, the more he recognized it to be a map. The Language was foreign to him, even with the hundreds of languages he knew, but the art was simple enough to get some of its meaning. He needed to find a highly populated area. Somewhere where he can learn about the new culture and everything that needed to be known. Not to mention a place to stay. He could stay mostly functional a few days at a time, but if the local inhabitants were anything like the other planes he's run across, (which they usually were) it would draw suspicion. He scratched his clean-shaven chin and pondered at the map.
Time: Evening
Location: On a street nearest the Lime-bean of Summoning
Content: Yawgmoth arrives in Chicago and is quite curious about the new world around him.
Format: Prose
Warnings: The inner thoughts of a sociopath? Otherwise None.
It was an odd feeling to have legs underneath him again, even more so when he finally took the first few steps across the asphalt. For most people, they would immediately assume that such a feeling was simply nostalgia, but Yawgmoth was almost sure that wasn’t the case. The feeling of nostalgia required some sense of reluctance for change or the some small wish for things they couldn’t have anymore. The Lord of Phyrexia felt none of that. It wasn’t like he never felt the sensation before. Even when he no longer had a physical body in the last few thousand years, he had plenty of experiences through the minds and bodies of his people to not feel any regret or longing. As he took more steps however, the odd feeling kept arising. Hm. Peculiar.
But what stood all around him was far more interesting.
His leather doctor’s bag swung very lightly as he continued to walk down the street, its leather strap held firmly in his right hand. To his left, his arm laid straight but tense, always ready to draw his sword if needed. Not that any mortal weapon could harm him, but it would be best not to lose his Newt body so soon since his arrival.
His eyes however, couldn’t help but constantly watch everything around him. This wasn’t the first time to see such a crowded environment that yielded little ground for their own development, but there so many towers that reached into the sky and so little smokestacks to support the amount of population that needed to to dwell there in order to be of some use. The only other option for support would be magic, but Yawgmoth wasn’t feeling a pulse in the air like Power stones usually felt like. Strange.
Ah well, that was why he here anyway, to figure out these mysteries. There wasn’t anything that could put a stop his children’s hunger when it started, but there’s always the chance there might be something useful amongst the unevolved trash.
he caught sight of a drawing on what appeared as a bulletin board near a bench. The closer he approached, the more he recognized it to be a map. The Language was foreign to him, even with the hundreds of languages he knew, but the art was simple enough to get some of its meaning. He needed to find a highly populated area. Somewhere where he can learn about the new culture and everything that needed to be known. Not to mention a place to stay. He could stay mostly functional a few days at a time, but if the local inhabitants were anything like the other planes he's run across, (which they usually were) it would draw suspicion. He scratched his clean-shaven chin and pondered at the map.