The Obzedat ghost spent most of his time in the Quick, a mirror of the waking world, inhabited mostly by those dearly departed, shades of broken souls, and creatures forged from nothingness.
It reflected the events of the world past the veil, only as strange shapes and collected emotions.
Around him raged the same battle he had overseen for what now must have been weeks. Beasts from Naya tread bodies into the muck churned and tilled by thousands of feet. Waves of barely accountable infantrymen from every walk of life, every plane of existence, led from men and women of new or old spark, ran into eachother and fought for hours.
To Kazimierz, this was a nightmare, on the scale of logistics.
There he sat in the Quick. A battalion of soldiers, possibly from Dominaria, walked right through him. Their numbers shook the Earth, but the clamor of their movement had no effect on the spirit jotting down notes.
He flicked around an orb, within which floated a sun, eclipsed over by a black orb, and around it were numbers.
Kazimierz spun a ghostly roll of parchment out of his pathos, and ink appeared on it simply by thought.
Records of troop movement, the troopers names, their details of birth and dates of recruitment, training and such information, were being rapidly collected by Kazimierz fast growing army of indentured thralls. They were useful on keeping tabs, as they everywhere.
Kazimierz felt a report, and then saw several letters appear in the orb. Which then appeared upon his paper. A hail of arrows had been fired at the formation that had just gone past him.
Turning, just in time, he witnessed that formation shatter, and break.
Twenty-four fresh souls materialized in the Quick. Confused, hardly aware they were even shot at. Seeing the spectre, sitting at a desk, a possible incarnation of [i\]The Grim Administrator[/i].
Kazimierz had the routine down to perfection. In this realm, he could feel all their emotions instantly, and usually put them to good use.
If what he felt, he liked, he would offer them an occupation as a soldier in the Orzov's regular guild. If their service was good, at the end of their tour, they would be recompensed, and granted eternal peace.
If he didn't like what he felt, he would levy them, as a conscript, and send them to the knell. There, they would serve Orzhov as menials, and would be granted freedom if they did their work well.
He grabbed some forms, stacking them together and straightening them, to look professional, before folding his hands and clearing his throat. It would all be over in a matter of-
[sup][b\][i\]I'm searching for a certain walker by the name of Jace Beleren, the youth leaves a bit of a mark so I assume you've seen him pass through.[/i][/b][/sup]
. . . [i\]Her[/i] presence.
[i\]Liliana? I know that you would not find the conflict here at all interesting. What brings you to it?[/i]
Had this quarrel grown so large as to attract the attention of planeswalkers who should have better things to do?
He rose from his seat, startling the Dominarian soldier who had lined up first in front of him. Kazimierz, feeling guilty to leave a soul waiting for judgement, lifted his hand and snapped his wrist.
A great black gate rose up and violently regurgitated a tall, ugly patriarch spirit.
[b\][i\]"Assign these men positions in our organization, be fair in your judgement, and take accountof their skills. Should I find a soul of integrity, with weak knees and teary eyes torturing prisoners as part of his 'assigment', I shall make sure to 'assign' your physical form to annihilation and condemn the remnants to a corner of the multiverse where sight and sound do not exist."[/i][/b]
Feeling the threat was potent enough, Kazimierz transported himself through the veil, and back into the living world.
It reflected the events of the world past the veil, only as strange shapes and collected emotions.
Around him raged the same battle he had overseen for what now must have been weeks. Beasts from Naya tread bodies into the muck churned and tilled by thousands of feet. Waves of barely accountable infantrymen from every walk of life, every plane of existence, led from men and women of new or old spark, ran into eachother and fought for hours.
To Kazimierz, this was a nightmare, on the scale of logistics.
There he sat in the Quick. A battalion of soldiers, possibly from Dominaria, walked right through him. Their numbers shook the Earth, but the clamor of their movement had no effect on the spirit jotting down notes.
He flicked around an orb, within which floated a sun, eclipsed over by a black orb, and around it were numbers.
Kazimierz spun a ghostly roll of parchment out of his pathos, and ink appeared on it simply by thought.
Records of troop movement, the troopers names, their details of birth and dates of recruitment, training and such information, were being rapidly collected by Kazimierz fast growing army of indentured thralls. They were useful on keeping tabs, as they everywhere.
Kazimierz felt a report, and then saw several letters appear in the orb. Which then appeared upon his paper. A hail of arrows had been fired at the formation that had just gone past him.
Turning, just in time, he witnessed that formation shatter, and break.
Twenty-four fresh souls materialized in the Quick. Confused, hardly aware they were even shot at. Seeing the spectre, sitting at a desk, a possible incarnation of [i\]The Grim Administrator[/i].
Kazimierz had the routine down to perfection. In this realm, he could feel all their emotions instantly, and usually put them to good use.
If what he felt, he liked, he would offer them an occupation as a soldier in the Orzov's regular guild. If their service was good, at the end of their tour, they would be recompensed, and granted eternal peace.
If he didn't like what he felt, he would levy them, as a conscript, and send them to the knell. There, they would serve Orzhov as menials, and would be granted freedom if they did their work well.
He grabbed some forms, stacking them together and straightening them, to look professional, before folding his hands and clearing his throat. It would all be over in a matter of-
[sup][b\][i\]I'm searching for a certain walker by the name of Jace Beleren, the youth leaves a bit of a mark so I assume you've seen him pass through.[/i][/b][/sup]
. . . [i\]Her[/i] presence.
[i\]Liliana? I know that you would not find the conflict here at all interesting. What brings you to it?[/i]
Had this quarrel grown so large as to attract the attention of planeswalkers who should have better things to do?
He rose from his seat, startling the Dominarian soldier who had lined up first in front of him. Kazimierz, feeling guilty to leave a soul waiting for judgement, lifted his hand and snapped his wrist.
A great black gate rose up and violently regurgitated a tall, ugly patriarch spirit.
[b\][i\]"Assign these men positions in our organization, be fair in your judgement, and take accountof their skills. Should I find a soul of integrity, with weak knees and teary eyes torturing prisoners as part of his 'assigment', I shall make sure to 'assign' your physical form to annihilation and condemn the remnants to a corner of the multiverse where sight and sound do not exist."[/i][/b]
Feeling the threat was potent enough, Kazimierz transported himself through the veil, and back into the living world.
