Author Games: Path of the Guildpact

Task One Entries: Azorius-Simic

Newt-Ella Doe-Knott

Hi all! My name is Newt-Ella Doe-Knott and do I have a story for you!

So I had just left Azorius to become Guildpact and I have to say, I really missed my boyfriend Pete Zah. Like, really missed him. I mean, he's so sweet and perfect and nice and god bless him. But not, like, God god, because this is Ravnica and Christianity doesn't exist there and I don't even know what that is. Hmm. How meta.

Anyway I had just arrived to Selesnya and this guy was talking to me. He was all like "hmm, I think you would make a really pretty tree".

And I said "aw, thank you! But I really like being a human."

So he said "are you sure? You would be in touch with nature!"

And I said "I would rather be in touch with Pete Zah if you know what I mean."

He didn't. It was sad. "So no tree?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No tree."

"Okay!" He said. "Good luck on your adventure!"

And he disappeared back into the woods, and I went back to thinking about Pete Zah. And I wasn't a tree.

Anyway, thanks for reading my story! See you next time!

- Newt-Ella Doe-Knott

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Trezene Cavrian

No matter how beautiful Vitu-Ghazi was, I would not let my guard down.

The dark foliage made efforts to stay on alert a whole lot easier, and so did the towering columns, casting long, ominous shadows against the grass in the light of dusk, supporting the massive ring above—unlimited cover for an ambush.

I mean, what Guildmaster would want you to "spend a day and a night here in Vitu-Ghazi" as their only test to judge your worth to be the Guildpact? More importantly, what Guildmaster would make a seemingly good deal without an unsaid catch? Certainly not Azorius's—their catch in the deal of nominating me for Guildpact was that if I succeeded, I would be their tool used for achieving their goal to become Ravnican nobility—and I was sure that Selesnya wouldn't be much different.

As if I needed further proof of this opinion, a hand tugged at my shoulder and I, ignoring its gentle grip, found myself blasting its owner, an elf, with the harshest wind I could conjure.

She stayed put; the howling wind had minimal effect on her, only her silky hair floated around her soft-edged face as if she was relaxing in a gentle breeze. And her brightly-coloured eyes smiled sympathetically at my already exhausted yet surprised stance as the wind died down.

Now that her hair had settled and the leaves had stopped swirling around her, I could see (read: scrutinise) her face more clearly. Her eyes were electric blue, set in the middle of dark rings, and she had a creamy complexion. Her face hadn't been as soft as I had originally seen: she had cheekbones set high in her face, probably camouflaged by her—wait, now that I looked at it, her hair was short and rather tangled, another feature I had gotten wrong. This look, however, gave me the feeling that I could almost name her.

Then she opened her mouth to speak, and the effect was ruined.

Her voice wasn't unpleasant. Not compared to mine, at least, but it just sounded so wrong.

"That was hardly complimentary towards your escort, child." She teased.

Her phrasing, the way she accented her words—they didn't match with what I would imagine a face like that would say.