Scars of Mirrodin: The Quest for Karn

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They scuffed over a small rise from the south, with the blinding rays of the Sky Tyrant in their eyes and the heat of the other four suns burning at their backs. Underfoot, the hills themselves creaked and popped as their metal sides expanded in the hot morning sunlight. Venser of Urborg pulled off his helmet and surveyed the rusted horizon before casting a wary eye at the two beings walking ahead of him. One towered over the other and both dragged their feet over the tarnished hill.

“I would have come on my own if you’d only asked,” Venser said.

The large one stopped and turned. In the almost blinding light of the five suns the iron spikes growing from his shoulders looked dull and tired. But not his teeth, as a sly smile spread over his face.

“Would you really have come, artificer?”

“Venser is my name.”

The muscular vulshok shrugged as if to show just what he thought of a name like Venser.

“And yes, I would have come,” Venser said.

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