Bow

I am Biilziebub, Prince of the Cult Rakdos

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Name: Biilziebub. Biilzie or Billie are acceptable, if you’re close enough

Species: Demon (winged)

Gender: Whatever you’re into

Color Identity: RAKDOS (and some blue)

Height: 4’8 with the horns

Plane of Residence: Primarily Ravnica, but I’ve started moving around more since Sparking

Plane of Origin: Ravnica

Companions and Associates: Mechel (old friend), Renaissance of the Maestros (partner), Mocca Malone (metamour), Octavia (she’s chill), Kilik, Captain Bliss and the crew of the Storm’s Wake, Khaeightlynne (go Prismari!), Mirak, Viridian

Affiliations: The Cult of Rakdos, of course. I have worked with the Izzet League as well, and have have some smaller cults, dedicated to me, on Innistrad and Kamigawa. In addition, I am proprietor of the Deerskull Tavern and legal owner of the bakery Mel’s. Recently, I have been sailing with Captain Bliss on the Storm’s Wake, on Ixalan.

Post by @biilziebub-rakdos · 1 image

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · The Deerskull Tavern · The Deerskull Tavern, marked from the outside by the mounted skull of something that appears somewhe

Likes: Animals, my Riteknife, flying, food, willing sacrifices, sharks, clowns, fire, @nuts-4-bolts

Dislikes: Anyone who tries to claim control they don’t deserve, every Azorian guildmaster since Isperia, Trostani, Raffine, the ocean

Extra bits: I lost my left ring finger after a whole incident with a cursed ring

Bio: As the son of Lord Rakdos himself, I was once the best-kept secret of Rix Maadi. I wasn’t revealed to the world until the birthday I came of age, to the raucous celebration of the Cult and much of the plane at large, in the biggest party of the millennium! I was then promptly shot by a “Gateless” insurgent representing a… rebellion that had to be put down. Run by some giant brain-thing from some other plane. You’d expect that to bring a measure of peace, but no, some bastard dragon came to wreck the plane with a zombie army. That’s… around when I sparked. Somewhere within there. But here I am now, traveling across the multiverse. Anywhere I want to be.

[sawed-on-shotgun]

Im glad they made up romance for stories and music but can you imagine how scary it would be to deal with all that for real

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I have been honoring dragons for decades. I know what their mana feels like, and the unique nature of Malfegor is unmistakable. Your father is a demon, but I could find no mention of your other parent when I looked. My guess is that like many of the fearful unbelievers, there are enough of those on Ravnica who would find your existence an abomination, or that one of your parents wished to hide your true nature, out of shame or fear of your potential to surpass them," Ushruk said, his obsequious tone vanishing as he stared at Biilzie's face.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I consider this for a few moments, rolling my neck until I get a nice crunching noise, taking another bite of my snack.

“Right. And if I were to say yes and accept your idea that I am a hybrid, what exactly would the first step of claiming this new cult be?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I figured it would be some sort of ritual sacrifice, but like I said, that's ultimately your decision, beyond announcing yourself as a living demon-dragon, which would be necessary," Ushruk said, his tone turning more neutral.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“… I see. Well, I never like turning down a sacrifice. How public would that announcement be?” My tone and expression are staying entirely unchanged, amused, a bit condescending, but clearly willing to hear this all out.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"Public to the Blood, not the multiverse as a whole. You could use an alias, only the showcasing of your nature would be necessary," Ushruk answered.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“I see. Alright. You’ve made a compelling case. I’ll keep it all under consideration, get back to you soon as a decision’s been made, and in the meantime… you get another shot at convincing me. Let’s see that gift you mentioned.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"The gift is two items: A Demonspine Whip, made from the spine of a demon who displeased Malfegor, and a Damned thrall that is currently unbound, but can be bound to you simply by harvesting a sliver of its lifeforce," Ushruk said, snapping his fingers.

A pale human, covered in scars, their eyes blank and lifeless shambled in, Ushruk closing the door behind them. The damned carried a spine that glowed a dull orange, as if it was hot to the touch. It was long, almost twelve feet from the base of the handle to the pointed spike that was the end of the tail.

"If this thrall is not to your liking, I can craft a better one, from Ravnican stock if you would prefer, although it would take at least a few days. This is hopefully the first of many thralls that will be yours to do with as you will, provided you accept your rightful seat of power," Ushruk said, a manic glint in his eyes.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

My feigned condescension melts away as I see the whip and the thrall, my ears poking upwards, my eyes going slightly wide. Picking up the whip, I run my thumb along the edge before striking with it, cracking it across the room, aiming at nothing in particular. There is a dark glee in my eyes as the bones slice the air.

“… this thrall is perfectly acceptable. The whip is very well-made. Where can I find your cult, if and when I should deign to take it?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"We are located on the plane of Alara, with our stronghold being in the mountains of Grixis nearest the Jundian border. Ask any person you come across. If they do not immediately bow before you and lead you there, invoke my name, and inform me so that I may flay them as they deserve. If they try to run, you are free to do what you will with them, even if you decide not to take up your mantle," Ushruk said, smiling wide.

"Now, if you would permit me to take my leave, I would make preparations for your arrival, unless you have need of me here," Ushruk said, bowing to Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“No need at all, Ushruk. Do make sure to enjoy the party, if you have time.” I am very clearly distracted, no longer condescending or even curious about him, entirely focused on the whip. “Unless… well. You have offered worship. You have gifted me a weapon and preemptively threatened to flay all those who do not respect me.” Smiling, I examine the vertebrae shaping the whip. “You would, I assume, endure any suffering in my name? Or are you only willing to inflict pain?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"If I have displeased you, I would take whatever punishment you decide fits," Ushruk said, bowing his head, "but, frankly, I see little purpose in enduring suffering simply for suffering's sake. If it was something like a brand or scar to mark your dominance, that would be one thing, but I believe I am most useful to you largely bodily intact and of sound mind. However, that is simply my opinion. If enduring suffering is necessary to prove my devotion in your eyes, then I would gladly ask for it. Although, I do prefer inflicting pain on your behalf, rather than enduring it. I believe I have more to offer than simply being another fervent devotee. I know secrets that could accelerate your growth, increase your magical potential, and grant you abilities beyond what you might expect from your heritage, through infusions of demonic and draconic blood and occult rituals. I wish to serve you, and believe that at present, the best way for me to do so is through conducting rites and rituals in your name and for your benefit. If you disagree, then I will gladly accept the torments you would visit upon me, however."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Ruuuuuuuk,” my voice is condescending again and almost singsong, clearly enjoying myself as I curl and twist the whip in my hands. “You’re talking an awful lot for someone who would ‘take whatever I see fit.’ I think you should just bend over and let me try out the gift you got me, don’t you agree? I’ll make it quick.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk stiffened, and then turned his back to Biilzie, loosened his armor, took it off, but placed his helmet back on. "I do not want a concussion or skull fracture should something go wrong with the whip."

"As many lashes as you would like, although I hope we both prefer a non-fatal amount," Ushruk said, voice flat.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Good boy.” My voice is almost flirtatious. With no further fanfare and minimal delay, I swing the whip around in the air for a few moments, getting a better feel for the density, the speed, the shape. Long and heavy as it is, even just swinging it is fairly loud, and properly cracking it risks the windows.

The noise is distracting. Continuing without being matched with the pain of an actual strike, it makes it much harder to know when to expect me to actually hit him.

Within a span of time that isn’t that long, but stretches with anticipation, I finally do it. Bring down the whip right across his back, a good few inches away from his actual spine, hitting a safe enough place not to cause lasting damage… or at least lasting injury, depending on how the bones fare against his scales.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Viashino cannot blush, or more accurately, when blood rushes to their face, it is rarely visible through their scales. Ushruk was momentarily glad of this fact, in the seconds before the whip landed.

When the bones struck his back, he shouted out in religious ecstasy. He felt the vertebrae indent into his scales, and cried at a pitch so high he didn't know his voice could make it as the heat of the whip coursed into him,

Biilzie loved pain, and feeling their strike, Ushruk understood that a little better. This was a form of communion with the being he now worshipped to the viashino. He let out a pulse of red mana, a pure wave of emotion and sensation, a mix of pain, pleasure, and devotion.

Agony was a necessary part of the transformation process, but Ushruk had only considered it as a price to pay for the physical change. In this moment, as the whip fell from his back, he saw that the experience would be a necessary part of all future transformations, to help them achieve the proper mindset of what they should embody.

"Thank you, my lord," Ushruk said, back still facing Biilzie, head bowed, voice reverent. "I think I see now."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“I’m glad. The whip is of excellent quality, I look forward to getting more use out of it, especially in real combat situations.” I’m beginning to coil the whip back up, looking and sounding distinctly pleased with him and myself… not letting show the pleasure I felt rolling off of him in that wave of mana. “And that, I believe, is all the need I have for you at the moment. As I said, do enjoy the party if you’ve got time.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I will enjoy the festivities. I am curious to try Ravnican food," Ushruk said, putting his armor back on, still not looking at Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We have some of the best in the multiverse, though I’ll admit to being biased. Anything marked Mel’s, especially.” I am entirely happy to remain largely undressed as I have been for the whole party, looping the whip into one of the chains across my chest, starting to head back out… indicating for my new thrall to follow with a snap of my fingers. “Have fun!”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I have been honoring dragons for decades. I know what their mana feels like, and the unique nature of Malfegor is unmistakable. Your father is a demon, but I could find no mention of your other parent when I looked. My guess is that like many of the fearful unbelievers, there are enough of those on Ravnica who would find your existence an abomination, or that one of your parents wished to hide your true nature, out of shame or fear of your potential to surpass them," Ushruk said, his obsequious tone vanishing as he stared at Biilzie's face.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I consider this for a few moments, rolling my neck until I get a nice crunching noise, taking another bite of my snack.

“Right. And if I were to say yes and accept your idea that I am a hybrid, what exactly would the first step of claiming this new cult be?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I figured it would be some sort of ritual sacrifice, but like I said, that's ultimately your decision, beyond announcing yourself as a living demon-dragon, which would be necessary," Ushruk said, his tone turning more neutral.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“… I see. Well, I never like turning down a sacrifice. How public would that announcement be?” My tone and expression are staying entirely unchanged, amused, a bit condescending, but clearly willing to hear this all out.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"Public to the Blood, not the multiverse as a whole. You could use an alias, only the showcasing of your nature would be necessary," Ushruk answered.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“I see. Alright. You’ve made a compelling case. I’ll keep it all under consideration, get back to you soon as a decision’s been made, and in the meantime… you get another shot at convincing me. Let’s see that gift you mentioned.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"The gift is two items: A Demonspine Whip, made from the spine of a demon who displeased Malfegor, and a Damned thrall that is currently unbound, but can be bound to you simply by harvesting a sliver of its lifeforce," Ushruk said, snapping his fingers.

A pale human, covered in scars, their eyes blank and lifeless shambled in, Ushruk closing the door behind them. The damned carried a spine that glowed a dull orange, as if it was hot to the touch. It was long, almost twelve feet from the base of the handle to the pointed spike that was the end of the tail.

"If this thrall is not to your liking, I can craft a better one, from Ravnican stock if you would prefer, although it would take at least a few days. This is hopefully the first of many thralls that will be yours to do with as you will, provided you accept your rightful seat of power," Ushruk said, a manic glint in his eyes.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

My feigned condescension melts away as I see the whip and the thrall, my ears poking upwards, my eyes going slightly wide. Picking up the whip, I run my thumb along the edge before striking with it, cracking it across the room, aiming at nothing in particular. There is a dark glee in my eyes as the bones slice the air.

“… this thrall is perfectly acceptable. The whip is very well-made. Where can I find your cult, if and when I should deign to take it?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"We are located on the plane of Alara, with our stronghold being in the mountains of Grixis nearest the Jundian border. Ask any person you come across. If they do not immediately bow before you and lead you there, invoke my name, and inform me so that I may flay them as they deserve. If they try to run, you are free to do what you will with them, even if you decide not to take up your mantle," Ushruk said, smiling wide.

"Now, if you would permit me to take my leave, I would make preparations for your arrival, unless you have need of me here," Ushruk said, bowing to Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“No need at all, Ushruk. Do make sure to enjoy the party, if you have time.” I am very clearly distracted, no longer condescending or even curious about him, entirely focused on the whip. “Unless… well. You have offered worship. You have gifted me a weapon and preemptively threatened to flay all those who do not respect me.” Smiling, I examine the vertebrae shaping the whip. “You would, I assume, endure any suffering in my name? Or are you only willing to inflict pain?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"If I have displeased you, I would take whatever punishment you decide fits," Ushruk said, bowing his head, "but, frankly, I see little purpose in enduring suffering simply for suffering's sake. If it was something like a brand or scar to mark your dominance, that would be one thing, but I believe I am most useful to you largely bodily intact and of sound mind. However, that is simply my opinion. If enduring suffering is necessary to prove my devotion in your eyes, then I would gladly ask for it. Although, I do prefer inflicting pain on your behalf, rather than enduring it. I believe I have more to offer than simply being another fervent devotee. I know secrets that could accelerate your growth, increase your magical potential, and grant you abilities beyond what you might expect from your heritage, through infusions of demonic and draconic blood and occult rituals. I wish to serve you, and believe that at present, the best way for me to do so is through conducting rites and rituals in your name and for your benefit. If you disagree, then I will gladly accept the torments you would visit upon me, however."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Ruuuuuuuk,” my voice is condescending again and almost singsong, clearly enjoying myself as I curl and twist the whip in my hands. “You’re talking an awful lot for someone who would ‘take whatever I see fit.’ I think you should just bend over and let me try out the gift you got me, don’t you agree? I’ll make it quick.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk stiffened, and then turned his back to Biilzie, loosened his armor, took it off, but placed his helmet back on. "I do not want a concussion or skull fracture should something go wrong with the whip."

"As many lashes as you would like, although I hope we both prefer a non-fatal amount," Ushruk said, voice flat.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Good boy.” My voice is almost flirtatious. With no further fanfare and minimal delay, I swing the whip around in the air for a few moments, getting a better feel for the density, the speed, the shape. Long and heavy as it is, even just swinging it is fairly loud, and properly cracking it risks the windows.

The noise is distracting. Continuing without being matched with the pain of an actual strike, it makes it much harder to know when to expect me to actually hit him.

Within a span of time that isn’t that long, but stretches with anticipation, I finally do it. Bring down the whip right across his back, a good few inches away from his actual spine, hitting a safe enough place not to cause lasting damage… or at least lasting injury, depending on how the bones fare against his scales.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Viashino cannot blush, or more accurately, when blood rushes to their face, it is rarely visible through their scales. Ushruk was momentarily glad of this fact, in the seconds before the whip landed.

When the bones struck his back, he shouted out in religious ecstasy. He felt the vertebrae indent into his scales, and cried at a pitch so high he didn't know his voice could make it as the heat of the whip coursed into him,

Biilzie loved pain, and feeling their strike, Ushruk understood that a little better. This was a form of communion with the being he now worshipped to the viashino. He let out a pulse of red mana, a pure wave of emotion and sensation, a mix of pain, pleasure, and devotion.

Agony was a necessary part of the transformation process, but Ushruk had only considered it as a price to pay for the physical change. In this moment, as the whip fell from his back, he saw that the experience would be a necessary part of all future transformations, to help them achieve the proper mindset of what they should embody.

"Thank you, my lord," Ushruk said, back still facing Biilzie, head bowed, voice reverent. "I think I see now."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“I’m glad. The whip is of excellent quality, I look forward to getting more use out of it, especially in real combat situations.” I’m beginning to coil the whip back up, looking and sounding distinctly pleased with him and myself… not letting show the pleasure I felt rolling off of him in that wave of mana. “And that, I believe, is all the need I have for you at the moment. As I said, do enjoy the party if you’ve got time.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I have been honoring dragons for decades. I know what their mana feels like, and the unique nature of Malfegor is unmistakable. Your father is a demon, but I could find no mention of your other parent when I looked. My guess is that like many of the fearful unbelievers, there are enough of those on Ravnica who would find your existence an abomination, or that one of your parents wished to hide your true nature, out of shame or fear of your potential to surpass them," Ushruk said, his obsequious tone vanishing as he stared at Biilzie's face.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I consider this for a few moments, rolling my neck until I get a nice crunching noise, taking another bite of my snack.

“Right. And if I were to say yes and accept your idea that I am a hybrid, what exactly would the first step of claiming this new cult be?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I figured it would be some sort of ritual sacrifice, but like I said, that's ultimately your decision, beyond announcing yourself as a living demon-dragon, which would be necessary," Ushruk said, his tone turning more neutral.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“… I see. Well, I never like turning down a sacrifice. How public would that announcement be?” My tone and expression are staying entirely unchanged, amused, a bit condescending, but clearly willing to hear this all out.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"Public to the Blood, not the multiverse as a whole. You could use an alias, only the showcasing of your nature would be necessary," Ushruk answered.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“I see. Alright. You’ve made a compelling case. I’ll keep it all under consideration, get back to you soon as a decision’s been made, and in the meantime… you get another shot at convincing me. Let’s see that gift you mentioned.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"The gift is two items: A Demonspine Whip, made from the spine of a demon who displeased Malfegor, and a Damned thrall that is currently unbound, but can be bound to you simply by harvesting a sliver of its lifeforce," Ushruk said, snapping his fingers.

A pale human, covered in scars, their eyes blank and lifeless shambled in, Ushruk closing the door behind them. The damned carried a spine that glowed a dull orange, as if it was hot to the touch. It was long, almost twelve feet from the base of the handle to the pointed spike that was the end of the tail.

"If this thrall is not to your liking, I can craft a better one, from Ravnican stock if you would prefer, although it would take at least a few days. This is hopefully the first of many thralls that will be yours to do with as you will, provided you accept your rightful seat of power," Ushruk said, a manic glint in his eyes.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

My feigned condescension melts away as I see the whip and the thrall, my ears poking upwards, my eyes going slightly wide. Picking up the whip, I run my thumb along the edge before striking with it, cracking it across the room, aiming at nothing in particular. There is a dark glee in my eyes as the bones slice the air.

“… this thrall is perfectly acceptable. The whip is very well-made. Where can I find your cult, if and when I should deign to take it?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"We are located on the plane of Alara, with our stronghold being in the mountains of Grixis nearest the Jundian border. Ask any person you come across. If they do not immediately bow before you and lead you there, invoke my name, and inform me so that I may flay them as they deserve. If they try to run, you are free to do what you will with them, even if you decide not to take up your mantle," Ushruk said, smiling wide.

"Now, if you would permit me to take my leave, I would make preparations for your arrival, unless you have need of me here," Ushruk said, bowing to Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“No need at all, Ushruk. Do make sure to enjoy the party, if you have time.” I am very clearly distracted, no longer condescending or even curious about him, entirely focused on the whip. “Unless… well. You have offered worship. You have gifted me a weapon and preemptively threatened to flay all those who do not respect me.” Smiling, I examine the vertebrae shaping the whip. “You would, I assume, endure any suffering in my name? Or are you only willing to inflict pain?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"If I have displeased you, I would take whatever punishment you decide fits," Ushruk said, bowing his head, "but, frankly, I see little purpose in enduring suffering simply for suffering's sake. If it was something like a brand or scar to mark your dominance, that would be one thing, but I believe I am most useful to you largely bodily intact and of sound mind. However, that is simply my opinion. If enduring suffering is necessary to prove my devotion in your eyes, then I would gladly ask for it. Although, I do prefer inflicting pain on your behalf, rather than enduring it. I believe I have more to offer than simply being another fervent devotee. I know secrets that could accelerate your growth, increase your magical potential, and grant you abilities beyond what you might expect from your heritage, through infusions of demonic and draconic blood and occult rituals. I wish to serve you, and believe that at present, the best way for me to do so is through conducting rites and rituals in your name and for your benefit. If you disagree, then I will gladly accept the torments you would visit upon me, however."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Ruuuuuuuk,” my voice is condescending again and almost singsong, clearly enjoying myself as I curl and twist the whip in my hands. “You’re talking an awful lot for someone who would ‘take whatever I see fit.’ I think you should just bend over and let me try out the gift you got me, don’t you agree? I’ll make it quick.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk stiffened, and then turned his back to Biilzie, loosened his armor, took it off, but placed his helmet back on. "I do not want a concussion or skull fracture should something go wrong with the whip."

"As many lashes as you would like, although I hope we both prefer a non-fatal amount," Ushruk said, voice flat.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Good boy.” My voice is almost flirtatious. With no further fanfare and minimal delay, I swing the whip around in the air for a few moments, getting a better feel for the density, the speed, the shape. Long and heavy as it is, even just swinging it is fairly loud, and properly cracking it risks the windows.

The noise is distracting. Continuing without being matched with the pain of an actual strike, it makes it much harder to know when to expect me to actually hit him.

Within a span of time that isn’t that long, but stretches with anticipation, I finally do it. Bring down the whip right across his back, a good few inches away from his actual spine, hitting a safe enough place not to cause lasting damage… or at least lasting injury, depending on how the bones fare against his scales.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I have been honoring dragons for decades. I know what their mana feels like, and the unique nature of Malfegor is unmistakable. Your father is a demon, but I could find no mention of your other parent when I looked. My guess is that like many of the fearful unbelievers, there are enough of those on Ravnica who would find your existence an abomination, or that one of your parents wished to hide your true nature, out of shame or fear of your potential to surpass them," Ushruk said, his obsequious tone vanishing as he stared at Biilzie's face.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I consider this for a few moments, rolling my neck until I get a nice crunching noise, taking another bite of my snack.

“Right. And if I were to say yes and accept your idea that I am a hybrid, what exactly would the first step of claiming this new cult be?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I figured it would be some sort of ritual sacrifice, but like I said, that's ultimately your decision, beyond announcing yourself as a living demon-dragon, which would be necessary," Ushruk said, his tone turning more neutral.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“… I see. Well, I never like turning down a sacrifice. How public would that announcement be?” My tone and expression are staying entirely unchanged, amused, a bit condescending, but clearly willing to hear this all out.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"Public to the Blood, not the multiverse as a whole. You could use an alias, only the showcasing of your nature would be necessary," Ushruk answered.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“I see. Alright. You’ve made a compelling case. I’ll keep it all under consideration, get back to you soon as a decision’s been made, and in the meantime… you get another shot at convincing me. Let’s see that gift you mentioned.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"The gift is two items: A Demonspine Whip, made from the spine of a demon who displeased Malfegor, and a Damned thrall that is currently unbound, but can be bound to you simply by harvesting a sliver of its lifeforce," Ushruk said, snapping his fingers.

A pale human, covered in scars, their eyes blank and lifeless shambled in, Ushruk closing the door behind them. The damned carried a spine that glowed a dull orange, as if it was hot to the touch. It was long, almost twelve feet from the base of the handle to the pointed spike that was the end of the tail.

"If this thrall is not to your liking, I can craft a better one, from Ravnican stock if you would prefer, although it would take at least a few days. This is hopefully the first of many thralls that will be yours to do with as you will, provided you accept your rightful seat of power," Ushruk said, a manic glint in his eyes.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

My feigned condescension melts away as I see the whip and the thrall, my ears poking upwards, my eyes going slightly wide. Picking up the whip, I run my thumb along the edge before striking with it, cracking it across the room, aiming at nothing in particular. There is a dark glee in my eyes as the bones slice the air.

“… this thrall is perfectly acceptable. The whip is very well-made. Where can I find your cult, if and when I should deign to take it?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"We are located on the plane of Alara, with our stronghold being in the mountains of Grixis nearest the Jundian border. Ask any person you come across. If they do not immediately bow before you and lead you there, invoke my name, and inform me so that I may flay them as they deserve. If they try to run, you are free to do what you will with them, even if you decide not to take up your mantle," Ushruk said, smiling wide.

"Now, if you would permit me to take my leave, I would make preparations for your arrival, unless you have need of me here," Ushruk said, bowing to Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“No need at all, Ushruk. Do make sure to enjoy the party, if you have time.” I am very clearly distracted, no longer condescending or even curious about him, entirely focused on the whip. “Unless… well. You have offered worship. You have gifted me a weapon and preemptively threatened to flay all those who do not respect me.” Smiling, I examine the vertebrae shaping the whip. “You would, I assume, endure any suffering in my name? Or are you only willing to inflict pain?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"If I have displeased you, I would take whatever punishment you decide fits," Ushruk said, bowing his head, "but, frankly, I see little purpose in enduring suffering simply for suffering's sake. If it was something like a brand or scar to mark your dominance, that would be one thing, but I believe I am most useful to you largely bodily intact and of sound mind. However, that is simply my opinion. If enduring suffering is necessary to prove my devotion in your eyes, then I would gladly ask for it. Although, I do prefer inflicting pain on your behalf, rather than enduring it. I believe I have more to offer than simply being another fervent devotee. I know secrets that could accelerate your growth, increase your magical potential, and grant you abilities beyond what you might expect from your heritage, through infusions of demonic and draconic blood and occult rituals. I wish to serve you, and believe that at present, the best way for me to do so is through conducting rites and rituals in your name and for your benefit. If you disagree, then I will gladly accept the torments you would visit upon me, however."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Ruuuuuuuk,” my voice is condescending again and almost singsong, clearly enjoying myself as I curl and twist the whip in my hands. “You’re talking an awful lot for someone who would ‘take whatever I see fit.’ I think you should just bend over and let me try out the gift you got me, don’t you agree? I’ll make it quick.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I have been honoring dragons for decades. I know what their mana feels like, and the unique nature of Malfegor is unmistakable. Your father is a demon, but I could find no mention of your other parent when I looked. My guess is that like many of the fearful unbelievers, there are enough of those on Ravnica who would find your existence an abomination, or that one of your parents wished to hide your true nature, out of shame or fear of your potential to surpass them," Ushruk said, his obsequious tone vanishing as he stared at Biilzie's face.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I consider this for a few moments, rolling my neck until I get a nice crunching noise, taking another bite of my snack.

“Right. And if I were to say yes and accept your idea that I am a hybrid, what exactly would the first step of claiming this new cult be?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I figured it would be some sort of ritual sacrifice, but like I said, that's ultimately your decision, beyond announcing yourself as a living demon-dragon, which would be necessary," Ushruk said, his tone turning more neutral.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“… I see. Well, I never like turning down a sacrifice. How public would that announcement be?” My tone and expression are staying entirely unchanged, amused, a bit condescending, but clearly willing to hear this all out.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"Public to the Blood, not the multiverse as a whole. You could use an alias, only the showcasing of your nature would be necessary," Ushruk answered.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“I see. Alright. You’ve made a compelling case. I’ll keep it all under consideration, get back to you soon as a decision’s been made, and in the meantime… you get another shot at convincing me. Let’s see that gift you mentioned.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"The gift is two items: A Demonspine Whip, made from the spine of a demon who displeased Malfegor, and a Damned thrall that is currently unbound, but can be bound to you simply by harvesting a sliver of its lifeforce," Ushruk said, snapping his fingers.

A pale human, covered in scars, their eyes blank and lifeless shambled in, Ushruk closing the door behind them. The damned carried a spine that glowed a dull orange, as if it was hot to the touch. It was long, almost twelve feet from the base of the handle to the pointed spike that was the end of the tail.

"If this thrall is not to your liking, I can craft a better one, from Ravnican stock if you would prefer, although it would take at least a few days. This is hopefully the first of many thralls that will be yours to do with as you will, provided you accept your rightful seat of power," Ushruk said, a manic glint in his eyes.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

My feigned condescension melts away as I see the whip and the thrall, my ears poking upwards, my eyes going slightly wide. Picking up the whip, I run my thumb along the edge before striking with it, cracking it across the room, aiming at nothing in particular. There is a dark glee in my eyes as the bones slice the air.

“… this thrall is perfectly acceptable. The whip is very well-made. Where can I find your cult, if and when I should deign to take it?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"We are located on the plane of Alara, with our stronghold being in the mountains of Grixis nearest the Jundian border. Ask any person you come across. If they do not immediately bow before you and lead you there, invoke my name, and inform me so that I may flay them as they deserve. If they try to run, you are free to do what you will with them, even if you decide not to take up your mantle," Ushruk said, smiling wide.

"Now, if you would permit me to take my leave, I would make preparations for your arrival, unless you have need of me here," Ushruk said, bowing to Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“No need at all, Ushruk. Do make sure to enjoy the party, if you have time.” I am very clearly distracted, no longer condescending or even curious about him, entirely focused on the whip. “Unless… well. You have offered worship. You have gifted me a weapon and preemptively threatened to flay all those who do not respect me.” Smiling, I examine the vertebrae shaping the whip. “You would, I assume, endure any suffering in my name? Or are you only willing to inflict pain?”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I have been honoring dragons for decades. I know what their mana feels like, and the unique nature of Malfegor is unmistakable. Your father is a demon, but I could find no mention of your other parent when I looked. My guess is that like many of the fearful unbelievers, there are enough of those on Ravnica who would find your existence an abomination, or that one of your parents wished to hide your true nature, out of shame or fear of your potential to surpass them," Ushruk said, his obsequious tone vanishing as he stared at Biilzie's face.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I consider this for a few moments, rolling my neck until I get a nice crunching noise, taking another bite of my snack.

“Right. And if I were to say yes and accept your idea that I am a hybrid, what exactly would the first step of claiming this new cult be?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I figured it would be some sort of ritual sacrifice, but like I said, that's ultimately your decision, beyond announcing yourself as a living demon-dragon, which would be necessary," Ushruk said, his tone turning more neutral.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“… I see. Well, I never like turning down a sacrifice. How public would that announcement be?” My tone and expression are staying entirely unchanged, amused, a bit condescending, but clearly willing to hear this all out.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"Public to the Blood, not the multiverse as a whole. You could use an alias, only the showcasing of your nature would be necessary," Ushruk answered.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“I see. Alright. You’ve made a compelling case. I’ll keep it all under consideration, get back to you soon as a decision’s been made, and in the meantime… you get another shot at convincing me. Let’s see that gift you mentioned.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"The gift is two items: A Demonspine Whip, made from the spine of a demon who displeased Malfegor, and a Damned thrall that is currently unbound, but can be bound to you simply by harvesting a sliver of its lifeforce," Ushruk said, snapping his fingers.

A pale human, covered in scars, their eyes blank and lifeless shambled in, Ushruk closing the door behind them. The damned carried a spine that glowed a dull orange, as if it was hot to the touch. It was long, almost twelve feet from the base of the handle to the pointed spike that was the end of the tail.

"If this thrall is not to your liking, I can craft a better one, from Ravnican stock if you would prefer, although it would take at least a few days. This is hopefully the first of many thralls that will be yours to do with as you will, provided you accept your rightful seat of power," Ushruk said, a manic glint in his eyes.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

My feigned condescension melts away as I see the whip and the thrall, my ears poking upwards, my eyes going slightly wide. Picking up the whip, I run my thumb along the edge before striking with it, cracking it across the room, aiming at nothing in particular. There is a dark glee in my eyes as the bones slice the air.

“… this thrall is perfectly acceptable. The whip is very well-made. Where can I find your cult, if and when I should deign to take it?”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I have been honoring dragons for decades. I know what their mana feels like, and the unique nature of Malfegor is unmistakable. Your father is a demon, but I could find no mention of your other parent when I looked. My guess is that like many of the fearful unbelievers, there are enough of those on Ravnica who would find your existence an abomination, or that one of your parents wished to hide your true nature, out of shame or fear of your potential to surpass them," Ushruk said, his obsequious tone vanishing as he stared at Biilzie's face.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I consider this for a few moments, rolling my neck until I get a nice crunching noise, taking another bite of my snack.

“Right. And if I were to say yes and accept your idea that I am a hybrid, what exactly would the first step of claiming this new cult be?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I figured it would be some sort of ritual sacrifice, but like I said, that's ultimately your decision, beyond announcing yourself as a living demon-dragon, which would be necessary," Ushruk said, his tone turning more neutral.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“… I see. Well, I never like turning down a sacrifice. How public would that announcement be?” My tone and expression are staying entirely unchanged, amused, a bit condescending, but clearly willing to hear this all out.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"Public to the Blood, not the multiverse as a whole. You could use an alias, only the showcasing of your nature would be necessary," Ushruk answered.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“I see. Alright. You’ve made a compelling case. I’ll keep it all under consideration, get back to you soon as a decision’s been made, and in the meantime… you get another shot at convincing me. Let’s see that gift you mentioned.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I have been honoring dragons for decades. I know what their mana feels like, and the unique nature of Malfegor is unmistakable. Your father is a demon, but I could find no mention of your other parent when I looked. My guess is that like many of the fearful unbelievers, there are enough of those on Ravnica who would find your existence an abomination, or that one of your parents wished to hide your true nature, out of shame or fear of your potential to surpass them," Ushruk said, his obsequious tone vanishing as he stared at Biilzie's face.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I consider this for a few moments, rolling my neck until I get a nice crunching noise, taking another bite of my snack.

“Right. And if I were to say yes and accept your idea that I am a hybrid, what exactly would the first step of claiming this new cult be?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I figured it would be some sort of ritual sacrifice, but like I said, that's ultimately your decision, beyond announcing yourself as a living demon-dragon, which would be necessary," Ushruk said, his tone turning more neutral.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“… I see. Well, I never like turning down a sacrifice. How public would that announcement be?” My tone and expression are staying entirely unchanged, amused, a bit condescending, but clearly willing to hear this all out.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"I have been honoring dragons for decades. I know what their mana feels like, and the unique nature of Malfegor is unmistakable. Your father is a demon, but I could find no mention of your other parent when I looked. My guess is that like many of the fearful unbelievers, there are enough of those on Ravnica who would find your existence an abomination, or that one of your parents wished to hide your true nature, out of shame or fear of your potential to surpass them," Ushruk said, his obsequious tone vanishing as he stared at Biilzie's face.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I consider this for a few moments, rolling my neck until I get a nice crunching noise, taking another bite of my snack.

“Right. And if I were to say yes and accept your idea that I am a hybrid, what exactly would the first step of claiming this new cult be?”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"You are the hybrid of demon and dragon. Unlike Ziatora, you were one from birth, like Malfegor. I lead a group called the Blood of Malfegor, and have recently made great progress in allowing for those not born gifted like you to achieve a form with demonic and draconic characteristics. However, you are the real thing, not a ritually crafted replica. You are near-perfect, albeit too young to have fully come into the height of your power. I could attempt to help you with that, and provide you with a host of devoted servants who you can be your true self around. You would not have to stay on Alara, merely make an occasional appearance to rile up the faithful, at your own discretion. You would be in charge, I would simply serve as a bridge between you and the masses," Ushruk spoke, claws drumming against a counter.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Well, your cult does sound absolutely lovely, but what exactly gave you this idea that I’m a hybrid?” There’s a bit of mockery in my tone, my hands kept distracted with ripping more flesh out of the corpse that is now beginning to cook in my grasp. All that said… the idea is tempting. A bit basic, sure, but it’s hard for me to turn down an offer of another cult to join the ranks. If he can’t be talked out of this conclusion, I can probably keep him silent just by letting him worship.

“And even if you’re right, how do I know you won’t take advantage of me going off-plane to install yourself as the true leader?”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk nods and follows, his eyes glowing red. When he gets into the storefront, shutting the door behind him, he turns to Biilzie and asks, "May we speak freely now?"

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We may.” I’m still smiling at him, leaning back against the shop counter, wings spread just enough to make me a bit larger. “I have ‘a similar underlying nature as Malfegor,’ you said. Explain yourself for me.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

"My aims are seeking perfection of physical and magical form, which He, Malfegor had. You share a similar underlying nature as Malfegor, although I am being vague about it as I sense something of a cloaking spell disguising your full potential. As for why I want to discuss in private, I do not want to spill your secrets. Your dominance and brutality is glorious to behold, and I do not wish to upset you," Ushruk said, bowing his head once again. Even with head bowed, he is still a good three-and-a-half feet taller than Biilzie.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Malfegor…” I say it softly, slowly, rolling the name around my tongue. With the faintest glimmer of recognition in my eyes, I spin on one hoof and start walking towards the nearest empty storefront. “Come along, then!”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

Ushruk smiles wide at Biilzie and the guards at their side.

"My name is Ushruk Draakhide. I am a planeswalker from the plane of Alara, and I first took notice of you when I was on Capenna, looking for any... artifacts of Ziatora's that would be useful for my aims. I was surprised and overjoyed to detect your presence and your unique nature. You are much more like Him than the other one was, and that is what my proposal is about, what you are, what that means to my followers and I, and how it can benefit you."

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Bit vague, aren’t you? What aims, what nature, what ‘him,’ and is that just what you want to get me in private to discuss? You should know, this is a Rakdos party, we don’t care too much for privacy.” I’m smiling broadly, invitingly, holding the corpse where Ushruk could take a bite or a piece.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

The viashino bows his head, and approaches.

"My prince, I have something I wish to discuss with you, as well as a gift to present to you, but I would like to do so away from prying eyes. And, considering what you do not advertise, you may wish for that as well," Ushruk spoke in a wizened, gravelly voice, words heavy.

As he approached, Biilzie and anyone else watching Ushruk would notice that his scales are almost a half-inch in thickness, making his body appear to be carved from cracked, red stone.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I’ve got one eyebrow raised in a distinct, self-important amusement as I listen to the viashino.

“I do try to avoid refusing gifts, but I must ask who you are, exactly? You’re not Ravnican, I can tell that much.”

A few of the guards that have stuck with me are remaining slightly away, not saying anything, not moving closer, but listening all the same.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The air is dense with sweet smells and the sounds of celebration, echoing off the stone of the streets and buildings. No expense has been spared! For my birthday, I’ve filled the streets around Gore House with every festivity available, complete with importing my own Cirque Ziebub and some of the best performers from Rix Maadi below, and my fight club through the omenpaths. Food and game stalls fill the gaps between and before the foundries, workshops, and storefronts that fill Precinct Six, each strewn with banners, bunting, an oddly high number of doors, and glittering confetti enchanted to constantly swirl and drift through the air as though it were just released. Needing more than the space provided, a few probing tendrils of celebration are pushing into Precinct Two.

Bands are playing in pageant wagons, though Cannibal Voyeurism has been given a proper stage with proper pyrotechnics. Performers from my Cirque and various Rakdosi troupes are plying their various trades in booths or in the street, complete with, somehow, the rapid installation of a carnival wheel that reaches above most buildings in the district.

Following Rakdosi tradition, each Guildmaster and everyone else who’s anyone has been invited, in addition to everyone I like personally and everyone who happens to be nearby. For those of us with means, that tradition has grown with the omenpaths, and invitations to my party have been sent out to such positions of interplanar power as Queen Marchesa, those sitting on the throne of each little faction of Eldraine, the heads of the Capennan Families, even a few names I’ve never heard of such as the Lord Skitter and someone named Morcant. Many, of course, will not deign to show up.

Unlike that fateful party so many years ago, I am not starting the celebration hidden. I am instead stretched languidly across a litter carried by several strong and trusted low-ranking Rakdosi, my hair aflame, my makeup perfect, my hooves polished, my skin oiled, my upper half entirely exposed but for the chains wrapping around it in the style of my father. Surrounding me at all times are a buzz of servers bearing trays of snacks and drinks, always available to me and the crowd around me as I ride around the party.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Several days into the party, the maelstrom of celebration has slowed, though not stopped. Many people have left, many people have died, almost as many people have joined late. I am not yet meant to leave the festivities. But, I am no longer bound to my litter, and now I have free reign. Checking my communicator after a performance with no real sense of if Gesserith has left the party, I see he’s made a post. The party is easy, it has been designed to let me do what I know how to do, what I know the people will enjoy, wave and smile at the crowd, eat to my heart’s content, play music, blow kisses or jobs or up, a perfect crystallization of Rakdosi sensibilities. Gesserith’s post is similarly easy, he’s said some sappy nonsense, I give a snarky reply, he goes on the defense. Except he doesn’t. He calls himself a father figure to me. Me! Of all people!

I turn my communicator off.

I return to my adoring crowd.

I rip someone’s throat out to the cheers and applause of my fans.

[blood-of-malfegor-offical]

In the crowd, not cheering and clapping like the rest, was a viashino wearing armor, his helm crowned with devil's horns.

He stood there, smiling like a crocodile, staring at Biilzie. Rather than the raw fervor of the crowd, he seemed enraptured, like the sight of the prince was deeply spiritual to him.

If the crowd ever began to die down, he would approach, but for now, he was content to wait.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The crowd in my immediate presence is unlikely to truly die down, but the applause passes in the mercurial way of any audience. But, even with me distracted, bloodstained, and ripping my victim apart with glee, the horns and armor manage to catch my gaze. Looking the viashino dead in the eyes, I take a long, slow lick of a ripped piece of flesh torn from the still-warm body and wink as I swallow.