Rot Farmer's Almanac
Ditzy sighed. "In hindsight," she reflected, "streaking towards Sunhome at ludicrous speed with a known criminal on my back probably wasn't the wisest thing I've ever done."
Jace rolled his eyes. "Really? You don't say."
The pegasus kept her gaze on the cell door. "You never said you were on wanted posters."
"Why did you think I was keeping myself invisible?"
"Because you're the head of a powerful multiplanar syndicate and have more enemies than I have feathers?"
Jace considered this. "Point." He considered his manacles. They were what passed for humor among the Boros; they restrained both his wrists and his magic. Ditzy bore a set of wing restraints that worked similarly. "Any ideas how to get out of this?"
Ditzy probably tried to wingshrug, given how the muscles in her barrel shifted. "Honestly, I was going to work the 'well-meaning but uninformed' angle. How many posters could they have put up in the cloud neighborhoods?"
The human shook his head. "Two words: Rainbow Dash."
"Oh. Right." Ditzy's gaze drooped to the floor. "I'm still used to thinking of her as the hero of the playground."
"Besides, the Boros take aiding and abetting far too seriously for that to work."
The mare snorted. "Great. So we're both doomed, is that what we've concluded?"
"Not quite," answered a third voice.
Both prisoners turned to the source. It was a human male, broad-shouldered and clean-shaven. Clearly a skilled fighter, given his body and poise, but his eyes seemed oddly weary. He wore a curious item on his right wrist, three lengths of wire wrapped around a gauntlet.
Ditzy considered him. Not a Boros, those shoulder-length locks definitely weren't regulation. Furthermore, suns, fists, and combinations thereof were all absent from his armor. "And you are?"
"Gideon Jura. I believe you were looking for me?"
The pegasus smiled. All according to plan. If she had one. "I'm Ditzy Doo. Jace and I want to keep this plane from exploding into all-out war. I have reason to believe we share that interest."
Applejack awoke to the rooster's call, as usual. There was no sunlight in the undercity, but zombifying a rooster gave it an impeccable internal clock. It also made the bird give a cock-a-doodle-doo every twenty-four hours on the dot, like it or not, rain or shine... not that anyone down here would be able to tell the difference.
In any case, the earth mare slipped on a thick coverall, a sort of canvas bodysock. Most of the crops knew her by sight, scent, or magic, but no rot farmer, not even a pony, went out into the fields unprotected. She also donned her father's hat — and to her, it would always be her father's hat — feeling the weight of the various pouches and fetishes worked into the headgear. Her mane, like her tail, was kept short enough not to tangle in anything.
Satisfied, she headed downstairs, the aged timbers creaking under her hooves.
"Mornin', Sis!" came a cry from the kitchen.
Applejack allowed herself a small smile. "Mornin', Bloom."
As the mare entered the kitchen, she saw her sister finishing up breakfast for two. The centerpiece was a bowl piled high with malucoids, the Apple family's pride and joy. Though they were fungi, generations of cultivation and earth pony magic had made them as sweet and juicy as any apple. Applejack proudly bore a trio of the mottled, irregular lumps on each flank. Breadshrooms, corpseberries, and other undercity staples, all grown on Sunken Apple Acres, rounded out the repast.
The sisters sat and began serving themselves. "Good t' see yer up an' at 'em," noted Applejack. "Ah was worried y'd be tuckered out after that no-good, connivin', overgrown tick got at ya."
Bloom rolled her eyes. "Ah told ya Ah'd be fine. He was cute 'n' all, but Ah got better things t' do than make googoo eyes at colts."
"Cain't hardly blame me fer worryin', can ya?" Applejack bit into a malucoid, savoring the juices and the chewy flesh. Swallowing, she added, "Way Ah remember it, y' were awful eager t' impress that colt."
The filly blushed and filled her mouth with half a breadshroom. She chewed as ponderously as she could.
Applejack just chuckled and sipped her aphid milk. "Now, y' got plenty t' do t'day, an' Ah don' wanna catch ya slackin' off with anyone else, pony 'r no. Y' hear me?"
Apple Bloom ducked her head and finally swallowed. "Yes'm," she murmured.
"Yer gonna want all yer chores done 'fore we get back t' yer magic lessons."
That perked the filly right up. "Yes, ma'am!" Apple Bloom bolted down her food, just about galloped to the porch, and made more of a commotion than seemed equinely possible putting on her work stilts.
Applejack shook her head and smiled. No harm in that much enthusiasm if the chores still got done. She finished breakfast at a more sedate pace, cleaned the breakfast dishes, and proceeded to the porch herself.
The vista before her always took her breath away. Dim phosphorescent growths lit up a vast field of flourishing, occasionally twitching crops emerging from rot and filth. The interplay of life and death resonated in her magical senses, the rhythms of the world writ small.
Applejack wiped a tear from her eye and centered herself. She had chores of her own, and she wasn't going to get so caught up in admiring her hard work that she didn't do any. She started strapping on her own stilts. They were very much necessary; the layers of fungi and decomposing biomass were feet deep in most areas. Once she was equipped, she almost flew through her property, navigating the quagmire with long-practiced ease. Each person she encountered, living or undead, was met with a nod and a few friendly words.
It wasn't long before the booming barks echoed across the farm.
Dorguz, a zombified ogre, gave a chuckle like a hacking cough. "'Bout that time, huh, Boss?"
"Careful now," Applejack shot back, "or Ah'll make sure yer between me 'n' her." She shut her eyes and braced herself. Her stilts, sunk deep in the loam, sprouted roots. Verdant energy flooded her muscles and hardened her bones.
When Winona tackled her, it was barely enough to keep her upright.
"Alright, alright!" Applejack cried. The mossdog licked her smiling face, front paws resting on her withers. "Enough, ya heap o' mulch!" She pushed her forehead against Winona's muzzle.
The vegetable creature eventually calmed down enough to get off of her, returning to all fours, the crops only coming up to her belly. Her tail still wagged and her tongue lolled out of her mouth, but at least spore breath wasn't blasting into Applejack's face.
"Ain't got time t' play t'day, Winona." Applejack withdrew the magic keeping her stable. "Too much t' do."
Winona whined and tried her best sad puppy eyes. Which weren't that good, since she didn't have eyes to begin with.
"May have to reschedule, Boss," noted Dorguz. "Don't think she'll take 'no' for an answer. Pets and their owners, eh?"
Applejack smirked. "Winona, go love Dorguz."
"Wait, wha—" The ogre's stilts snapped as he was buried under several hundred pounds of affectionate bryophyte.
"Ya'll have fun now!" Applejack strode on, unconcerned. Enthusiasm aside, Winona was actually well-trained. She'd carry Dorguz to the farm's workshop for a spare set of stilts when she was satisfied. Whenever that was.
After a few acres, the thick morass of rot and fungus began to thin out. Soon enough, the layers of compost were reduced to a sort of mulch for a curious sight this far beneath the surface: a grove of trees.
They certainly weren't the sort of trees one would find in a Selesnyan garden. Branches writhed out of trunks like a gorgon's serpentine hair. The sparse leaves were pitch-black. Purplish sap, thick with the magic of death and rebirth, oozed out of the trunks.
Applejack removed her stilts. Here, the decay barely came up to her fetlocks. She made a beeline for the heart of the wood, where there was a tree twice as tall as the others, which were themselves four times as tall as her. Moss and lichens flourished on the titan's trunk, and a curious pattern in the simpler vegetation suggested a sleeping pony's face.
The orange mare tapped the tremendous trunk a few times near the face. "Wakey wakey, Granny Smith!"
"Ugh... wuzzat?" The face stirred and blinked. With a sound like tearing burlap, the front half of an ancient earth mare pulled itself away from the trunk, taking a considerable amount of the surface flora with it. A few more seconds to gather her wits, and the ancient pony smiled at her descendant. "Well, mornin', Applejack. What brings ya t' ol' Granny?"
"We got ourselves a bit of a problem, Granny. Y' see—"
"Apple Bloom, am Ah right?"
Applejack halted, her mouth hanging open for a moment. She cleared her throat. "Er, yes, ma'am."
Granny Smith gave a wise nod. "An' a colt, 'less Ah miss mah guess."
"Not exactly. A changelin'. Only she didn' know it."
Granny clicked her tongue in disapproval, making a sound like a slapped, saturated sponge. "Shameful is what that is. Had a deal with them bugs an' their minders fer as long as Ah kin remember."
Applejack's eyes widened at that. From what she'd heard, Granny Smith was Svogthir's little pony. She'd been the right-hand mare of the Golgari parun, who'd taught her everything she knew about necromancy. Of course, that was according to Granny herself, and maggots had gotten at the old girl's brain more than once. Still, she was centuries old at the minimum.
Applejack shook her head. That was neither here nor there. "Ah went t' talk with Chrysalis — that's th' queen nowadays —"
"Ah know, ah know." Granny Smith swept the aside aside with a wizened leg. "Y' told me more 'n once, Jackie. What'd she say?"
"'Tain't her fault," answered the younger mare. She rolled her eyes. "Says she cain't be held responsible fer every single one o' her kids, or however them things work."
Granny Smith snorted at this and spat out a wad of matter best left undescribed. "Put th' fear o' Luna in 'er?"
"Did one better. Fear o' the Apples."
The matriarch nodded. "Just like Ah taught ya. Good girl, Jackie. What then?"
"She said she'd remind 'em all, an' Ah said she wouldn't get no third chance." Applejack shrugged. "That was all yesterday, so we'll see how it goes."
"Very well, I should think."
Applejack spun to her left. The voice was as moist as Granny's, but clearly male, and totally unmistakable. "M-Master Jarad!"
Jarad, guildmaster of the Golgari Swarm, dropped to ground level from his perch on one of the grove's lesser trees. As he rose to a standing position, his motion spoke of elven grace undiminished by his self-reanimation, despite the physical decay of his body and the living mantle of fungi on his shoulders. He nodded to Applejack. "Miss Apple." He repeated the motion at her ancestor with a lipless smile. "Miss Apple."
Granny laughed at this. "Boy, Ah had eight foals b'fore ol' Svogthir's first death. Yer more of a miss than Ah am."
"Old wreck, then."
"Now that's more like it."
Applejack shifted on her hooves. "Uh, can we help ya with anythin', sir?"
"Yes, actually. I was here for your report on the Dimir, but another guild concerns me at the moment."
"Them no-good Rakdos again, Ah'll bet." Granny Smith shook a hoof at the thought of the demon's guild.
Jarad shook his head. "The Izzet."
"That bunch o' high-falutin', dragon-lovin', trouble-causin' busybodies?" Granny asked. "Since when d' they give two hoots 'bout down here?"
"Precisely what I would like to know. For whatever reason, the undercity has caught their attention of late." Jarad turned his dead gaze to Applejack. "I believe you have a friend in the guild, Miss Apple?"
The orange mare swallowed. "Y-yessir." The words started tumbling out before she could even think to stop them. "Twilight Sparkle. Unicorn, real bright girl, never said nothin' 'bout the undercity, always cleans up after 'er explosions. That ain't a problem, is it?"
Another narrow smile. "Not at all. Please, keep in touch with her. And be sure to share anything especially notable."
Applejack nodded frantically. "Yessir. Right away, sir. Anythin' else, sir?"
Jarad returned his attention to the elder Apple. "Sugar Smith and I have some catching up to do. I'm sure you have something more important to do than listen to a pair of corpses."
Applejack fled the copse like all her lives depended on it. She didn't even remember reattaching her work stilts, but she soon found herself on the opposite end of the farm.
A nearby farmhand waved and called, "You okay, Boss?"
"Fine, Grell!" Applejack just focused on her breathing for a bit, listening to her racing heart settle down to its usual rhythm. Life was going to be so much easier once the damn thing stopped.
The mare's eyes snapped open. "Sugar Smith?"
A few hours later, Applejack was back at the ranch, steeping a pot of tea. The leaves weren't easy to come by down here, but it was her guest who supplied them.
A familiar life sign approached, and the farmer made her way to the front porch to greet that guest. She couldn't help but snicker. It was quite a sight.
Big Macintosh strode through the fields with his usual stoic dignity. He was a few inches taller than Winona, and so had no need for stilts. Besides, there was enough wood in his legs as it was. He'd taken to zombification unusually well, the plants and fungi that infused his body thriving off of his undiminished earth pony magic and boosting it in turn.
Riding him like an Orzhov dignitary atop an alms beast was a blushing pegasus. Fluttershy knew better than to fly over a rot farm; there were more than a few crops that would spear anything bigger than a dragonfly out of the sky, and she'd be the first to admit that she wasn't agile enough to avoid them. Still, the solution, while incredibly less dangerous, made her stand out even more than she usually did. The vestments of the Selesnya Conclave were as rare a sight in the undercity as a pegasus. One wearing the other was almost unheard of.
Big Mac knelt at the lip of the porch, and Fluttershy fluttered onto it. She turned, face still redder than than her escort's coat, and nodded. "Thank you, Big Macintosh."
He smiled. "Any time." His voice was as big as the rest of him, deep and resonant, even his whispers filling space like an actor's monologue. Strange undertones hinted at the wooden replacement for most of his windpipe.
If Fluttershy's knees quivered a bit, Applejack certainly wasn't going to say anything. "Good t' see ya, Shy. C'mon in, tea should be just about ready."
After the first cups were poured and pleasantries exchanged, Applejack went to business. "Say, Shy, y' heard from Twilight lately?"
The pegasus nodded. "Quite a lot, actually. She says Niv-Mizzet actually told her to spend more time with her friends."
"Really." Applejack considered this. "Huh. Ain't heard from 'er down here."
"Well... could I suggest something?"
Applejack smiled. "Any time, Saprolin'. Y've listened t' me jawin' so much y' prob'ly know me better 'n Ah know mahself."
"You could go and see her. I know you feel the farm needs your supervision, but none of your crops will be producing for the next few weeks. It's pretty much just dull, repetitive field work until then, and you've always said that's what zombies do best." Fluttershy noted the other mare's slack-jawed, dumbfounded expression. "Like you said, I'm a good listener."
Once Applejack gathered her wits, she chuckled. "Well coat me in chitin an' call me a kraul, Ah guess y' got a point." She looked up at the ceiling and the buildings beyond. "S'pose Ah could do with a day in th' city."
"Um, actually, if you have the time..." Fluttershy trailed off and freshened her tea.
"Shy, y' only just convinced me. Don't got no schedule planned out or nothin'."
"Oh. Well, I was just hoping you'd come help me with something in Vitu-Ghazi."
Applejack scowled. "Y' ain't tryin' t' convert me again, are ya? 'Cause th' Shattergang brothers still owe me a favor, an'—"
"No!" The shout nearly reached conversational volume. Fluttershy composed herself and continued, "Anything but, I assure you. I respect your right to choose your own beliefs. And after last time..."
"They ever fix that wall?"
"Well," and here Fluttershy's voice developed an edge sharp enough to cut soft butter, "it was part of the tree, so it's still growing in."
"Huh. Figgered someone'd speed it up."
"I... think Mat'Selesnya is trying to make a point."
Applejack paused. "Ah... see." As far as shit lists went, that of a quasidivine superdryad seemed like a bad one to occupy. "Y' sure Ah should come?"
Fluttershy gave her a Look. It wasn't quite a Stare, but the sheer conviction certainly merited the capital letter. "I'm also trying to make a point. And you being there would help. A lot, actually."
"Then Ah'll be there."
Applejack was mending a broken stilt when she felt the changeling. They were curious creatures. They clearly weren't dead, but that emotion-based metabolism of theirs meant they didn't quite register as life either. Without looking up, she called, "Howdy, there."
"Hello, ma'am."
She turned. The creature was undisguised, and going by its flat ears and ground-pawing hoof, it was quite uncomfortable. "Yer proper respectful," Applejack said soothingly. She sat, trying to keep herself as nonthreatening as she dared. "Ah like that. What can Ah do ya for?"
The changeling chewed at its lower lip, or carapace, or whatever it had. "I..."
"Yer the changelin' Ah caught tryin' t' feed of my dear, sweet, innocent baby sister." Diplomacy or not, Applejack wasn't going to spare the parasite what it was due.
It winced at that, and kept the scowl after it recovered. "The sister who was showing off how good she was getting at death and decay magic?"
Applejack grinned. It wasn't just going to roll over. Good. "Th' same. Now, y' ain't told me why yer here, 'specially as y' are."
The changeling bowed its head. "My queen has passed her judgement. For trespassing against you and yours and violating the agreement between the Apples and the Tenth Hive, I am yours to command."
The earth mare blinked. "Huh. Well. Always happy t' have another set o' hooves around. Y' gotta name?"
"You know that feeling when you enter a room and forget why you went there in the first place?"
Applejack considered the apparent non sequitur for a moment. "Okay, y' gotta name Ah can pronounce?"
"Oh. Right." That-Feeling-When-You-Enter-a-Room-and-Forget-Why-You-Went-There-in-the-First-Place gave a nervous chuckle that sounded rather like an enormous cicada. "Well, I was using the name 'Mosswort' when I was... most recently assuming a pony identity."
"Mosswort." Applejack nodded. "Good as any. Now, there's just one li'l problems we gotta take care of."
"And that would be?"
Applejack stood and approached her new subordinate. "Well, Ah know y' can't help what y' are, but..."
"My being a changeling is an issue?" Mosswort gave his (her?) boss a flat look. "I thought the Golgari didn't discriminate."
"Don' get me wrong, if y' were just a pony with a shell, Ah'd be fine with ya lendin' a hoof. It's more... well, y' can bow an' scrape all y' like, but yer still Chryssy's..." Applejack frowned. "You a mare or a stallion, anyway? Can never tell with y'all."
"If you need me to pick one, then female, but we don't really have a gender per se." Mosswort scrunched up her muzzle. "I know it's what love originated from, but the whole sex thing is kind of... ew."
The boss mare rolled her eyes. "Saprolin', yer gonna be facin' a lotta 'ew' on a rot farm."
"Decay I don't mind. It's just the..." For a short while Mosswort just waved her hooves in... ways. Ways that this narrator refuses to describe further, and frankly didn't think were possible.
Thankfully, Applejack put a stop to it. "Ah think we're gettin' off-track. Point is, yer still Chryssy's mare, an' Ah ain't givin' 'er a free peek at mah farm whenever she wants." She began to circle the changeling. "Good news is, Ah know a surefire way to fix it."
Something wasn't right here. Mosswort could feel it in her nectar. As she craned her neck to keep the earth mare in sight, she asked, "And that would be?"
Applejack completed her circuit around the changeling and smiled. "Close yer eyes. Won't take more 'n a second."
It was a warm, open, nearly edible smile. One even a drone who'd lived her entire life as a low-level Dimir operative could trust. Mosswort closed her eyes.
In less than a second, Applejack turned, shifted her weight forward, charged her rear hooves with mix of vital and lethal energies, and bucked the living crap out of the changeling. More or less literally.
Mosswort's body went flying for nearly a mile into the fields. Applejack got there as soon as she could. Sure, the drone wasn't going anywhere, but some of the other workers got a mite peckish around now. Fortunately, the only damage on the body was that that Applejack herself had dealt, a shattered chest plate oozing green slime.
The orange mare couldn't help but smile at that. Black and green. "Yer gonna fit right in, Saprolin'." With a careful toss of her head, she sent a single black seed flying out of a pouch on her hat and into the new hire's gaping wound. Then she sent her will and magic into the husk.
Fine tendrils sprouted immediately. A few were visible, but most threaded their way through their new home. It was a strange one, far more fluid than what they were accustomed to and with far fewer organs, but also a wealth of energy that the host wasn't going to need anymore.
The vines thickened, each wave further building upon and reinforcing the previous one. Soon enough, Mosswort rose, her new vegetable muscles dragging her up. The newly grown necrocluster flourished in her chest cavity, part peeking out like a surreal corsage. Thin lengths of the plant weaved through the holes in her hooves. Finally, the balance between life and death tilted just far enough in the right direction, and the changeling's eyes lit up again, now as orange as Applejack's coat.
Mosswort blinked a few times, swaying back and forth. Once her thoughts were back in order, she hovered a bit above the fungi, which were already recovering from her impact. She noticed Applejack. "You killed me."
"Eeyup."
The changeling considered this. "Shouldn't I be angry about that?"
Applejack shrugged. "Up t' you."
Further consideration. Finally, Mosswort asked, "Why?"
"When a problem's been there since birth, th' best way t' take care of it's death." Applejack favored the zombified changeling with a nod. "Y' got th' rest o' th' day off fer gettin' yer head sorted out. Least Ah can do." She strode back towards the ranch.
Mosswort — and suddenly that name seemed preferable to the emotional state with which she'd always associated herself — took stock of herself. Her mind was silent, save for her own thoughts. Yet she wasn't afraid. She wasn't hungry. That was such a singular state for a changeling that it bore repeating. She wasn't hungry.
She chose to be happy. "I can live with this," said the zombie.
Golgari Guildpony BG
Creature — Pony Shaman
Whenever a Pony, Pegasus, or Unicorn card is put into your graveyard from anywhere, you gain 1 life.
"A guild is like a herd. We do not forget our fallen."
2/2
Applejack, Golgari Granger 3BG
Legendary Creature — Pony Druid
Creature cards in your graveyard get +1/+0.
T, Exile a creature card from your graveyard: Add X mana in any combination of B and/or G to your mana pool, where X is the exiled card's power.
Sunken Apple Acres is always hiring.
3/3
Stats
Page generated in 0.041 seconds
Total duration
1,012 users online
1,313,512 hits today, 2,004,447 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Winona is greatest mossdog.
Hmmm....
Winona, Greatest Mossdog - 2GG
Legendary Creature - Plant Hound
Dredge 4
When Winona, Greatest Mossdog enters the battlefield, put a +1/+1 counter on each Pony, Pegasus, and Unicorn creature you control.
Pony's best fungus.
3/4
And that's 8 guilds down! Selesnya's up next, I'd assume. Also, while Orzhov is pretty much the only place where Rarity would fit into the picture now, I can't help but wonder how her generosity will fit in with a guild as greedy and debt-obsessed as they are. Maybe Rarity owed a debt she couldn't pay, but managed to climb her way up the ranks in her undeath, planning on changing the guild from the inside-out?
3791988 You seem to forget, Orzhov is like the Bank, They will lend you money, lots of money, but they expect it back. OR ELSE.
That and they have no Problem giving out Orzhov coinage, that can only be spent at Orzhov backed stores.
I really like what you make of the guilds. This is one of the sweetest renditions of the Golgari I have ever read in fanfiction.
Life is cheap and death is cheaper, but they are also as warm and cuddly as compost pile.
I also have some card suggestions:
Big Mac 2BG
Legendary Creature — Zombie Pony
BG: Put a +1/+1 counter on Big Mac.
T: Add X mana in any combination of B and/or G to your mana pool, where X is the number of counters on Big Mac.
(This is not limited to +1/+1 counters)
3/3
Granny Smith, Golgari Matriarch 2(B/G)
Legendary Creature — Tree Zombie Pony
Defender
B: Add G to your mana pool.
G: Add B to your mana pool.
1/5
When I saw this, I was kinda hoping the changeling had come back to ask for permission to date Applebloom. Ah well, this works too I guess.
3791988
What Reisentanith said, and Teysa Karlov is a much better person than most of the known Orzhovan Guildmembers. For instance, there's a short story on wizards.com where she invites Tajic (from Boros) over for tea and plotting the downfall of the Obzedat. I imagine Rarity works under her.
I totally ship Teysa/Tajic after reading that.
3791964 You can do better than just ponifying the original flavor text if you're gonna make it a named legendary.
Just thought I'd let you know that this is an awesome fic and that you're doing a great job :)
Okay, now I've read through this, and I loved it
All them Magic ponies...
You're limiting yourself quite a bit if you're only having one named pony in each guild, but some of these are brilliant. I think my favorites are Rakdos Pinkie, Gruul Screw Loose, and Simic Lyra. And of course Planeswalker Derpy, because Derpy
And only now do I understand your comment "Usually, I'm doing this for real."
I would (and did) do some of them differently, of course. Fluttershy is a perfect fit for Selesnya, but if I had to only have one in each I might have swapped her and Applejack around. AJ also is a perfect Selesnya, and I could just see Fluttershy as a cycle of nature druid who appreciates the role of death in the ecosystem, especially if she can use necromancy to keep her furry friends with her forever
but as you've already seen, my first choice for a Golgari pony was Zecora.
Thanks for the good read, I'll be watching for more
I lost it at this line, too. How much more of "it" do I have left to lose at this point?
I'm new to Magic the Gathering, and found I really like zombie decks. (I got the Steam Magic the Gathering game to see what kind of deck I would prefer) Do you know if they still make Golgari decks? Because Black/Green Zombies sound exactly like the kind of deck I'd wanna run
I did manage to find some Innistrad packs, but I know for a fact they don't make those anymore
6010825
You may be able to find some Golgari preconstructed decks from Ravnica: City of Guilds or Return to Ravnica online. If all else fails, you can always buy the cards individually. That's the nice thing about Magic; the cards never stop existing, they just get a little harder to find.
What you've done with the Apples is really fascinating (and somewhat gross). It's interesting to see somepony in action for whom death is merely a temporary inconvenience.
While reading this, I was not sure if I should be chortling or holding back the urge to vomit.
3915980
My personal opinion is that while Pinkie and Dash fit Rakdos and Boros in terms of what the guilds do, their actual colors are the other way around. That is, Pinkie has a very strong sense of law, healing, and order in her chaos (that's basically what a party is, isn't it?) and Rainbow Dash's loyalty, AFAICT, comes more from her emotions and passion than obligation (bonding quickly with a bunch of ponies who she barely knows); i.e. it's firmly Red, it's more of a Brand effect than anything, and her ambition, desire to be the best, is the Black aspect.
What did Applejack ever do to deserve this?
Is... Granny Smith a dryad? What?
Oh my god, that was fucked up.
10810779
When the entire planet is covered in city, the farms have to go somewhere.
When I was supposed to come up with a character for a Ravnica DnD campaign, I picked Golgari since they seem to be the only people who are actually interested in doing their jobs for the betterment of Ravnica; The Izzet are more interested in experimentation than maintenence of utilities, the simic are obsessed and weird, boros are hot-headed, self righteous jerks sometimes, Rakdos murder for fun... need I go on?
Granted, golgari have their flaws, but you really have to look to find anything bad about them. Well, that is, unless you're prejudiced against necromancy.
Oh, yeah, and the smell.
The Apples are about Family. Through the Golgari, family lives on. Even with the rot, the smell, and all the minuses of being undead, family still survives.