Once upon a time a group of Selesnya mages found themselves on a world devoid of mana. Magic still cost just as much as ever but here, on this plane, they could not draw on the plains and forests as they were accustomed to.
"Let us take this as a test." Said the oldest guildmage among them. What do we have when our mana is gone?
"Nothing!" wept an evish novice, "Nothing at all!"
"But that's not true" said the guildmage, "we have each other."
"Deep within each living thing," The guildmage continued, "Is a spark of mana, within those beings of the forest they are green, those creatures of the city they are white. If we can summon small creatures to our aid, ornithopters with hearts of steel, and rootwallas born of madness, then we can draw on them, and slowly we can grow our ranks until we can summon an angel who needs no mana, an angel of every color, an angel who can give us back our mighty wurms."
The others nodded and set about their task. This was their ultimate test as green and white mages, to build a community without land to draw on.
Slowly they learned their art, they let their enemies go first and went mad with their rootwallas or buried their vengevines in shallow graves, then when their time to cast came again they summoned memnites to bring the vengevines back, they drew saprolings out of the barren soil. They exiled the spells for their wurms for life and time to build their army. They waited until eight creatures stood, three green, and with the chord of many voices together, their angel might be called.
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