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[Scoops Novel]

I RULE HERE- Oh alright. Here you go Gold, run through the 3 mana and below hatchling randomizer:

You are a

Spiketail Drakeling! http://gatherer.wizards.com/Pages/Card/Details.aspx?multiverseid=118913
Attached are the 3 stages in the lifecycle. http://gatherer.wizards.com/Pages/Search/Default.aspx?name=+[spiketail]

[monk12]

This looks neat. If you're still taking players, I'll go Blue- maybe a Merfolk of some kind?

I've played some MTG, but not a lot; I've never done Friday Night Magic or anything, and my "competitive" experience consists of one draft where I lost every match, so seed me as you will

[GreatWyrmGold]

I RULE HERE- Oh alright. Here you go Gold, run through the 3 mana and below hatchling randomizer:

You are a

Spiketail Drakeling! http://gatherer.wizards.com/Pages/Card/Details.aspx?multiverseid=118913
Attached are the 3 stages in the lifecycle. http://gatherer.wizards.com/Pages/Search/Default.aspx?name=+[spiketail]

I was joking.

[Scoops Novel]

Leo:

Your latest venture to observe the titanic vessels of the elements which bestride these hallowed mountains has met with great success. You witnessed a territorial duel, and you have narrowed down the location of the victors lair to one of two peaks. You dream of someday looking upon a clutch of dappled eggs, watch them hatch- you stop yourself before descending into a delirious vision of the broodmother's earsplitting lessons to her hatchlings. You have run low on supplies- while you have dressed appropriately for the occasion, anything resembling a meal would be a rare fool to venture to these vicious slopes. At the base of the mountain lies a forest, a bastion of elves and men somewhere in the distant trees. Safer perhaps is the castle to the south, widely stood on the isle off the coast, the occasional expedition hastily ferrying too and from the mainland. You have heard of your clansmen traveling to Castle Sengir, and the law there is not that of your tribe. Nevertheless, those who remember you and your experiments could number amongst those settled there, and your law is not kind.

Where do you go for supplies?

[Powder Miner]

b-but
that's colorless
not blue

Interesting card, though.
I will keep iy

[Scoops Novel]

This looks neat. If you're still taking players, I'll go Blue- maybe a Merfolk of some kind?

I've played some MTG, but not a lot; I've never done Friday Night Magic or anything, and my "competitive" experience consists of one draft where I lost every match, so seed me as you will

You're in, AND WE ARE FULL! Lurkers, plox help me run this. Gold, (ironic sig for this post to be below) back to the shrieking drake!

Here is your merfolk. You are a

Reef Shaman!http://gatherer.wizards.com/Pages/Card/Details.aspx?multiverseid=27158
Don't get trigger happy.

[monk12]

Oooh, neat. I like it.

[Epichighfive321]

I'm up for this, but I know nothing about duskwalkers except the short amount of info at that link. I guess we're gonna play this by ear per say.

[mastahcheese]

Hey! I know it's not a standard land type, but could get deserts? I could fight using attrition and artifacts! Screw colors!

How does a

Desert Nomad sound? http://gatherer.wizards.com/Pages/Card/Details.aspx?multiverseid=960

Sounds awesome! Will I be able to get some deserts, though? Apparently I shall also use Red, which is totally cool by me.
Fire and sand for the win!

[Angle]

I'll be blue/green, if that's cool. Maybe even start out as a merfolk?

[Scoops Novel]

I'll be blue/green, if that's cool. Maybe even start out as a merfolk?

Full up for now, I'm afraid. I expect that a space will open up sooner or later, so I'll let you know then if that's cool.

[Scoops Novel]

Mastahcheese:

Your caravan is camped outside the outpost walls, nestled in one of the many small valleys of the Cela Hills. You are returning from a long day of trade and pleasure, finishing the day with grateful payment from a druid who you escorted to Muzga's pastures. All around are ruddy with booze and more then a little raucous as they happily bumble towards the gates. A distinctly sober guard awaits, and after some insults are exchanged the gates steadily creak open- you hear the familiar and heavily slurred voice of the druid calling out. "Friiiiiends! Perhaps you, yes, you are indeed most fittang fer me next task. Feck it, do you want to see this or-" the gates shudders to a halt. As they swing back, the sounds of cracking blades and something crashing reverberate as local men rush to the sides of the thick wooden portal, desperately trying to lower the oak bar even as the gates stand ajar. One man ignores the barricades completely and rushes through with a determined look. The druid is beating a retreat, the scowling guard prepares to defend the heaving men and a lone horn calls out from the watchtower, barely audible over the bedlam. An passing Aven beats into the air for a better view, his companion seated and intoning rhythmic cantillations to the gods. Your sudden pallor belies the dread and more important the sobriety within you, but your companions stand swaying and open mouthed in shock.

What do you do?

The latest story posts will be edited into the OP.

[Scoops Novel]

GreatWyrmGold:

Courtesy of my brother
https://www.dropbox.com/s/nsrzjrwbwihhisg/Shrieking%20Drake%20%282%29.jpg (struggling to imbed it into the post)
Rolling plains sweep out before you, a river with a singular tree coursing through. A griffon shifts uncomfortably on it's arch, wings near aflutter, some bauble clutched in it's foreclaws. It seems perturbed by a fellow drake, which after some study inexplicably vanishes from sight to reappear somewhere else entirely. A rabbit gazes up at you, presumably in appropriate terror. Along the river bank you can spy a gleam, and to the east a merfolk reclines obliviously under the shade of a tree.

What do you do?

[Scoops Novel]

Kansa:

You're being shaken awake. A bag of mostly powdered seeds, chisels and Somf skin thudding into your belly welcomes you to another night in the less prestigious scrapyards of Tomeba, the land of the ever-ready, the glimmering and steaming caskets. Your tokens scatter on the counter of a loxoden smith, granting you a scant three hours. His puffy trunk dismissively waves you through. A disapproving moon is overawed by the busy rattle of the furnace and the smoke of hundreds shearing into their ancestors leavings.

A smack, some squawking and rough feathers herald the disappearance of a Eglep bracelet you've been prettying up for the damn smith. Many sharp things follow the bird, men across the camp swearing viciously as their peers mumble sympathetically and inactively. This is the second time for you alone this month, your unimpressive silhouette perhaps having something to do with it. The night wasted, you can see other cairn hounds filtering out to the beaches, the groves and the healer. You recognize a chirp from above.

What next?

[Kansa]

I look up towards where the chirp sounded and try and catch that bird