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The Story

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As you found yourself going through day to day tasks for your guild, you decide to take a break and relax at a local tavern. Even though it is getting late, and you're at the edge of a Rakdos circus, you make an effort to try and enjoy yourself. Within a seedy establishment, scuttlebutt is exchanged in a low roar, blended with some expected foul-Rakdos-language. These cultists sure can speak their mind, and they aren't shy with anything. Occasionally, a very drunk ogre across the bar belches and slams his fist on the table... You can clearly smell his foul rancid breath . Trying to distract yourself from the less than pleasant sight, your eyes are drawn towards a very seductive woman. You strain your hears to overhear this Tavern Swindler. She seems to be trying to entice her audience into a game with a strange parchment. Your attempts to ignore the sultry woman are stamped out by a growing curiosity. As you gaze at the ancient paper, you realize it's akin to the journal you had almost forgotten. You engage in a game with her. The game is simple, but not without it's price... As her blade grazes across your palm, she presses a cruel-looking coin into your grasp. Your blood seeps onto the coin, and she offers you a mocking "good luck" and a wink. The coin sprinkles an insubstantial amount of your blood in random directions as it sails into a spiral. Time seems to pause for a moment, before the gravity compels the coin to fall into the woman's open, gloved hand... Heads.

Because the Simic Combine's funds are almost endless now, I have taken the liberties of fixing up my laboratory at my leisure. I cannot recall all that I have modified, but I do recall paying for the training of some local Gruul Wood Elves. Their desire to re-cultivate Ravnica amused me greatly. As I offered them chances to understand the Simic's ways of re-vegetation, I made sure to give them some peace of mind, and now I will re-purpose their desires to my own cause. Yes, even as I write, these elves are coming to understand the glorious crusade of the Combine.

I have been busy, taking time to study from the tomes my wayward ally brings to me. I see him less and less now. These tomes mention a place called Yavimaya; a land of the vicious cycles of natural selection. It is awe-inspiring to me. I cannot fathom a place so locked away from civilization. In the mind of a Ravnican, how can such a place even be possible? To one of my assistants, Jyrdaern, I entrusted the care of these studies. He quickly and graciously accepted, and several weeks later, the young man is calling himself the "Yavimaya Elder". It is... quaint, if not a little childish. Still, his words of wisdom are extremely useful, and his understanding of the instincts of survival have helped my experiments greatly. The new bio-mechanically engineered specimens have since had statistically higher survival chance.

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