Notes

❝ Hoping to bring his family closer together and to recreate his childhood vacation for his own kids, a grown up Rusty Griswold takes his wife and their two sons on a cross-country road trip to the coolest theme park in America, Walley World. Needless to say, things don’t go quite as planned. ❞

The angels of Zendikar bear a harsh, bizarre reminder of their early opposition to the Eldrazi. Each angel’s halo is worn down over her eyes, symbolizing her mystical blindness to the Eldrazi’s atrocities and her powerlessness to aid her world. The halo stings when worn this way, letting the angel see only stark, glaring whiteness and barring her from coming to the aid of the Eldrazi’s hapless victims. Ultimately the halo serves as a shameful kind of leash, shackling her to acquiescence, preventing her from interfering with the destructive progress of the Eldrazi.

She fights with a singular focus: to seek out and destroy the Eldrazi titan responsible for siring the swarms, in order to save Zendikar—her home, her world, her friend.

“You have about ten seconds to explain why you’re in my apartment and another five to give me a good reason why I shouldn’t tear you apart.” He snarled at the figure with their back turned. “Trust me, I mean that literally as possible.”

“Don’t drink Lesley’s beer, clean up your messes and no animals inside. Except Mukluk here. He’s like a dog and Lesley likes him.” Caedyn said showing off his best friend. “Other than that you can stay as long as you want.”

Apollo scanned the club a little from where he was seated. As well-known as he was, and as many places he had sang around the country and occasionally even in other countries, never before had he performed in a music club.

He spun his violin bow in his hand a little. This would be a new experience, he wondered who he might meet today. As much as he knew, he might even make a new friend.

The winter spirit had been in agonizing pain all day and was finally becoming numb to it. Some of the stronger surges of pain still made him wince but at the moment he was just staring blankly at a patch of snow on the ground. He could feel his morals becoming twisted and the dark thoughts spinning through his head. He tried to think of something good, something light but it caused him to wince and he put a hand to his chest and panted softly, sliding to the ground and curling up in a ball.

He was tired as he was pulled unwillingly back to the place he had stayed far from. He cursed the Vanaheim people for thinking he’d be a great gift to the King of Asgard. The least they could’ve done was skin him and give his pelt to the king.

He would would rather go to Hel than go to Asgard until he was ready to kill the Aesir.

But here he was, in shackles and chains. Bloody mouth muzzled. His tail lashing about and barely struggled now as he was dragged along the Rainbow Bridge where his muffled whimpers came. He was yanked through the doors and a spear to his back hind leg made sure he fell down growling.

A noble wolf lets his guard down once and suddenly he was dragged back to Asgard as some gift. He sure put up a fight though, judging by the blood on his paws and maw.