mtg.wtf

When the hive must feed, every appendage becomes an additional mouth.

It doesn't need to use its venom—it just needs you to know it can.

It doesn't need to use its venom—it just needs you to know it can.

"The slivers became adept at provoking a fear response in other species."
—Hastric, Thunian scout

They move in a synchronized swarm, turning entire squads into heaps of bloody rags and bones in an instant.

"A rift opened, and our arrows were abruptly stilled. To move was to push the world. But the sliver's claw still twitched, red wounds appeared in Thed's chest, and ribbons of blood hung in the air."
—Adom Capashen, Benalish hero

"Where did you come from?"
—Otarian hunter, last words

As malleable as molten steel, but as dangerous as the finished blade.

"There's just one. I'll finish it in a single blow.
—Mercenary en-Vec, last words

Victories against the hive are tragedies.

You're too busy recoiling in fear to realize that it's already hit you.

Every inch of a sliver's body is a potential claw, appendage, or projectile.

"That which would be a fatal mutation in any other species is merely a source of new powers. I am intrigued, yet too fearful to examine it more closely."
—Rukarumel, field journal

Within weeks, more slivers nested in Otaria than ever existed on Rath.

"The land is weary. Even Skyshroud is depleted. We must find another source of mana—one that is growing despite our withering world."
—Freyalise

A bristling wave of slivers broke against the Weatherlight's timbers.

"I see in their interconnectedness a strange embodiment of the natural order."
—Dionus, elvish archdruid

Even the thrums, the lowliest of slivers, become deadly in its presence.

"The colossal thing rumbled over the ridge, tree husks crumbling before it. The ones we were already fighting howled as it came, their muscles suddenly surging, and we knew it was time to flee."
—Llanach, Skyshroud ranger

The air was filled with the cracks and snaps of flesh hardening as the new sliver joined the battle.

No matter how much the slivers change, their collective might remains.

The directors of the Riptide Project wanted instant results on the sliver experiments. They got their wish.

"It would take another apocalypse to stop the slivers now."
—Riptide Project researcher

The question isn't whether slivers will adapt to a world's perils but whether the world's perils will adapt to slivers.

"They actually have venom, not poison. If they were poisonous, a single drop would—IT BURNS! IT BURNS!"
—Riptide researcher, last words