Card of the Week: Master of the Hunt

Those are obviously wolfhounds, not wolves!

Hunted

The horn blew again, long and low, echoing over the valleys and through the trees. Though still faint, it was a little louder than before. And now I could hear the baying of the hounds as well, deep and bone-chilling. The hunt approached, and I had little doubt that I was its quarry.

I continued my flight through the woodland, but I knew that my chances of reaching even a sizeable village before the hounds ran me down were slim. This was the forest primeval, the trees untouched by axe and the ground unbroken by plow. I had sought such a wild place just for its remoteness from humanity, for the wild ley lines at its heart. And though I had found riches of mana, I now wished that I had left it alone and stayed in more settled lands.

Though I had by this time gained significant skill in green magic and, through association, some amount of wood lore, I could not outpace the hounds or their Master as I fled through the forest. No matter what Hidden Paths I found, what Deadfalls I avoided, the cries of the hounds lived forevermore. It was only a matter of time before they hunted me down. That time came sooner than I expected, though, as I caught myself just before I tumbled off the edge of a ravine. A fast-flowing river had cut through the forest here, carving deep into the earth and blocking  my escape from the hunt behind. The canyon stretched as far as I could see to either side—there was no way across. Resigned, I turned back towards my pursuers.

It was not long before the first of the hounds burst through the treeline. They were of great size, larger than any dog I had ever seen before, and of noble appearance. Though heavily muscled, they looked like they were built for speed rather than raw strength. Even so, I knew that even one of them—much less the entire pack—was more than a match for me, sword or no. My magic was my only hope...but the only ley lines I could call to myself were from far away seas and islands. Those lines that I had come here to gather had, it seemed, forsaken me.

Working with what I had, I cast Controlling Magic at the leaders of the pack and brought them under my will. Bidding them approach—but calmly!—I greeted them as I would a friendly stray on the streets of Alsoor, carefully but with confidence. The lead hounds, now friendly, circled me with curiosity, and the other hounds of the pack soon took a cue from their leaders. I was, at least, no longer in danger from the hounds.

Surrounded by the now-friendly hounds, I was ready for the Master of the Hunt when he appeared through the treeline. He was tall, and his wild beard and antlered crown gave him a fey look. He may have been human, but he was no settled or civilized man—he was as much a part of the wild forest as the trees and hills around us. His stony glare seized my eyes, and it was all that I could do to not look away. Finally, he nodded ever so slightly and approached, not as a hunter approaches his prey but as one approaches a stranger. I let out the breath that I had not realized I had been holding.

We talked for long hours, until the sun set on the hills. He was curious as to how I tamed his hounds, and I answered truthfully. I asked him of his hunt, why he had chased me, and he told me: the lands I had explored for their ley lines belonged to another mage, a jealous one who had set him upon me in revenge. I offered him payment for his services instead, and he granted me the right to call upon him in the future as long as I left these lands so that he could fulfill his duties to his current benefactor.

There was no way I wasn't going to make my own wolfhounds into tokens.

When I left him behind that night, I took with me a hound. It was not one of the lead dogs; in fact, it was likely the smallest and scrawniest of the pack. But even the smallest and scrawniest of them was strong and imposing, and I was honored to have her. She may be long gone, but even to this day I have her descendants as loyal companions and friends.

Fiona and Rory in real life.

Wild Huntsmen Throughout the Multiverse

The Master of the Hunt is but one of many wild huntsmen. Tales abound of his likes throughout the multiverse, though the fine details vary. Some tales say that the Master is a god or a king, others say that he or she is a devil or of the fair folk. The Master may be accompanied by other hunters, either mortals or faeries or spirits, and may ride all manner of fearsome beasts. But all lead hounds, huge and fierce. The wild hunt is sometimes seen as a harbinger of plague or war, and those who witness the Master’s hunts are often believed to be doomed or bound for abduction into the faerie realms.

Though Odin (in his many names) is most often the Wild Huntsman, other traditions name King Arthur, Fionn mac Cumhaill, the Devil, Francis Drake, and a whole host of others as the Master of the Hunt.

Do You Hear the (Wolf)Hounds, They Call!

The Master of the Hunt is not often seen in the battles between mages. He is difficult to summon, especially for a being as comparatively weak as he is. He does allow his allies to call upon his Wolf(hound)s, but they too require great investment of resources to summon. Even so, if any mage is likely to find his services useful, a green mage has the best chance of doing so. With abundant resources supplied by allies such as Elves and Birds of Paradise, a green mage might well be able to summon both the Master and a large pack of his Wolf(hounds) into battle.

It is unfortunate that the Master’s Wolf(hounds) specifically require green mana to summon: it is possible to tap infinite amounts of colorless mana through the Basalt Monoliths and certain applications of blue magic, but such mana cannot be reliably changed into green mana in arbitrary amounts. Were there a way to do so, flooding the battlefield with countless Wolf(hounds) to overwhelm an opponent would certainly be an effective way to win a battle, and a satisfying one at that. Alas, such a thing remains an idle dream.

Danatoth of Alsoor


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Card of the Week: Karma

Ah, yes. One of the original color hosers. So mean and so effective!

A Lesson Learned

I had just left the bogs when she found me. I had spent days there, exploring every treacherous pool and crossing every stretch of unstable ground. I left no plant unsampled, no animal untracked. I even drank of the foul waters of the place. Though unpleasant, those days of slogging through knee-deep water and nights spent huddling for warmth by smoky fitful campfires were worth it. I had bound the ley lines of the bogs to my soul and could now use them in the pursuit of black magic.

Black magic had, up until then, held little interest to me. While I recognized its power, I was unwilling to make the sacrifices required to use it—I would leave that to more foolish souls such as my sister, who succumbed to its corruption almost as soon as she first channeled its dread power. But my curiosity got the best of me when I learned to commune with Demons, whose Tutelage promised to enhance my power greatly. As far as I could tell, dealing with these Demons was relatively innocuous: they did not require a Vampiric blood sacrifice, nor did they demand an Infernal exchange of secrets in return for their knowledge. Perhaps my soul will be forfeit when I die, but I have managed to live for eons and I intend to stay that way for eons more.

She found me when my clothing was still caked with swampy mud, when my skin still itched with the welts of the bog’s biting insects. Looking back, I realize that she was waiting to waylay me or any other mage that emerged from the mire, for she had prepared for the battle. But at the time I thought myself fortunate. I was confident in my magic, especially now that I had the Tutoring of Demons to draw upon. She would be a good test of my ability, and perhaps I would take a new spell or ley line from her in victory. Laughing to myself, I drew upon my new ley lines as we prepared for in battle.

At first, the fight went according to plan. The Demonic whispers were indeed helpful to me, and I found myself with the advantage. But she showed no fear, even as she fended off my Lions. She merely drew upon her own ley lines, then cast a spell I had never seen before.

The agony was immediate and blinding in its intensity. It was as if thorny tendrils had wrapped around my limbs, my torso, even my face. With every breath, they seemed to wrap tighter, to choke more air from my lungs, to pull harder to wrench me limb from limb. And they followed the paths that my black ley lines took through my body so closely that there could be no doubt that my ties to the Swamps were the cause.

I tried to fight through the pain, but it was to no avail. To make matters worse, in order to summon greater entities, I needed more mana...and all I was able to bind was more Swamp lines. Each of those lines was another lash of agony across my mind and body. Inevitably, I soon knelt in defeat before my rival. The pain of her spell and the shame of defeat were bad enough, but her laughter as she stood over me made it worse. “There is a price to pay for your corruption, fool,” she sneered as she plucked the knowledge to call upon the Erhnam Djinn from my mind. “Karma ever returns the evil of your actions upon yourself.”

I have never forgotten that defeat. Though I still dabble in black magic from time to time, I do so knowing that my magic can be used against me in the most brutal of ways—even if I choose to disregard it, I have learned well of the risk. I have also learned to use this Karma myself, and it has proved exceedingly useful in my battles against those who dare use their black magic against me.

Cause and Effect

Karma is a concept far broader than the narrow punishment for drawing black mana from the swamps. It is the relationship between cause and effect of one’s actions: the deeds that one commits—whether good or evil—are returned by the multiverse upon oneself. Indeed, if we are to be reincarnated after death—as many believe—Karma persists after death, and the deeds of our current lives affect the circumstances of our future lives.

The lotus is a symbol of Karma to many traditions: the flower contains seeds even as it blooms, the present and the future in one place. It's not just a symbol of great power...

In common usage, though, the concept of Karma is usually applied as cosmic “justice”, or the multiverse’s punishment of one’s evil deeds. To put it simply, “what goes around comes around”. The weaponization of Karma into a spell that turns a mage’s devotion to black magic into mind-crushing pain certainly falls into this usage.

Dishing Out Karma

As it is restricted to punishing only those who bind themselves to Swamps, Karma is usually not universally applicable. White mages have for ages held it in reserve in case they should encounter an adept of black magic, but very few count it as one of their main spells. The chance of Karma being useful does not outweigh the guaranteed usefulness of other spells, and it is thus drawn upon only when it is certain to be useful. But when that certainty is there, it is as powerful as magic comes.

Not shown: Cyclopean Tomb. I'm just not cool enough to have one...yet.

Some mages, however, have found ways to expand the situations where Karma is effective. Through the devious use of blue magic, a mage can Phantasmally change a rival’s lands to Swamps or Hack Karma to affect other ley lines as easily as it normally affects Swamps. Likewise, an artificier can call upon the Cyclopean Tomb to corrupt a rival’s ley lines to the point that Karma affects them. But while these techniques can be effective against all rivals—not just those who employ black magic—they are usually not efficient enough to hold their own against more focused spellbooks.

Danatoth of Alsoor


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Card of the Week: Tranquility

There's something truly tranquil about a gentle river.

Peace and Quiet

My first years after becoming a mage were a difficult time. I left my home behind me, one step ahead of the inquisitors of the Church of Tal. I escaped with my life, but by doing so was thrown into a greater world of conflict and war with only the first glimmers of what I could do to defend myself. I became aware of other mages, each of them intent on battling me for what little magic I had. And to survive, I found myself exploring dangerous lands ever in search of new ley lines and greater spells.

It was a decade or more before I discovered the Savannahs of Parma, a new home that welcomed me. I learned that the Paladins of that land were unlike their brethren in Alsoor and did not persecute the use of magic. I discovered the first of those potent ley lines that can draw upon more than one color of mana. And I found something far more important to my spirit: peace and Tranquility.

While exploring through the woods and fields, I came upon a river. It was small, no more than waist-deep and probably prone to becoming even shallower in the dry seasons. In places it dashed itself against the rocks in its course, and even plunged over a waterfall at one point. But it was not the violence of the river that fascinated me, it was the stretches of calm where the surface perfectly mirrored the surrounding trees.

I stood and stared at the water for a long while, then sat down when my legs became tired and watched it still. It was peaceful. The water was calm, but not still—each shift in the current hinted at what lay beneath, but did not allow it to upset the water’s flow. The river may have been turbulent underneath, but it did not mar the beautiful Tranquility of the surface.

As I looked upon the river, I was struck by a revelation—like the surface of the river, I need not be affected by the turmoil of my situations. No Gloom need stifle my spirits, no Underworld-borne Dreams need haunt my sleep, no Blood Moon need hang precariously over me. I could just...let my problems fade away, if I could but find Tranquility in myself.

It is, of course, an easier thing to say than to do. Finding Tranquility is difficult in the best of times, let alone when in the midst of combat. To do so requires the investment of time to reflect, or the sacrifice of more direct action. It may not be easy or convenient, but sometimes it is the only thing to do.

Still Waters

It is no surprise to me that like me, many find Tranquility symbolized in calm waters. There is certainly something soothing about the quiet splashing and bubbling of the stream, the play of light on the rippling surface. I might guess that the symbol is especially effective given the contrast of water’s destructive potential. While a Raging River or a Hurricane can change our lives for the worse, the Tranquility of  a gentle river remains to soothe our pains.

The Kinnickinnic River, below the lower dam in River Falls, is my personal river of Tranquility and my favorite place in the world.

Remaining Calm in the Face of Adversity

Experienced mages do not often call upon the soothing magic of Tranquility. Those who have access to white magic tend to prefer the direct means of Disenchantment, which is not only more precise in removing harmful enchantments while leaving beneficial ones in place but can also be used to destroy artifice. The duplicitous blue mages might seek to prevent such enchantments from forming in the first place. But those who dabble neither in white magic nor blue may find Tranquility to be useful, especially if they employ no lasting effects of their own or already employ green magic.

Tranquility: it's good for what ails ya!

The use of persistant magic is not widespread enough amongst seasoned battle mages, and so sacrificing more direct magic in favor of Tranquility is not a strategy that’s commonly employed. Instead, the magic of Tranquility is more often reserved for only when it’s sorely needed against catastrophic effects such as The Abyss or Moat—effects that utterly ruin a mage’s strategy. Tranquility may not be versatile enough to employ at all times, but is indispensible when it’s needed.

Danatoth of Alsoor


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Card of the Week: Royal Assassin

Scream murder, he's coming for you/Blade in his hand, he knows what to do

 —Savatage, "Scream Murder"

The Alleys of Death

As I hurried down the narrow alleyway, with only the pale Mist Moon to light my way, I looked back yet again over my shoulder. There was nobody there, but I knew he hadn’t lost my trail. He’d been chasing me down these deadly alleys for long enough for me to know that he could follow me no matter how I tried to lose him. If I thought he was far enough behind me to give me enough time to collect myself and planeswalk away I would, but though I couldn’t see his shadow or hear his footsteps I knew he was too close.

With no hope of escape, I drew the fog about me as I ran. Once it was thick enough that I couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of me, I found a place to hide—a deep-set doorway in one of the close-looming stone walls. I didn’t try the ancient iron-banded door, but only a fool would leave such a door unbarred in this part of the city. Instead, I drew my sword. Though my pulse raced and my blood rushed to my head, I held as still as I could. Silence. And with the fog I’d summoned, I saw no more than I heard.

Had I escaped his pursuit? I doubted it. I carefully bent to the ground and picked up a stone, flung it to skitter further down the alley, then waited again. There he was! The blade in his hand glinted through the fog, and he approached with soundless steps. He appeared not to know where I was, as his eyes were fixed further down the alley. I didn’t wait to find out if he was bluffing—as soon as he came within reach, I lunged out at him. Stopping the point of my sword mere finger-widths from his throat I demanded him to drop his knife. “Do you yield?!”

If he was afraid, he did not show it. With his one good eye he stared back at me as he slowly raised his hand to show me where his blade was. “Let me live,” he croaked, “and you have my promise that your life is safe from me.”

It wasn’t long before we returned to the tavern where I had first noticed his approach, but this time the assassin sat across the table from me. Having taken his promise as true, I had offered him payment to tell me why I was his target. As far as I had known, I had done nothing to attract anybody’s ire.

Though we all know that the original artwork is the only artwork worth playing, Tom Wänerstrand's revisitation of his original artwork is really cool. It's certainly better than the weird face-painted version, anyway.

He took a deep drink, then wiped his mouth on the hem of his dun cloak. “It is the Queen,” he told me as he lowered his tankard back to the scarred benchtop. “She is a Sorceress, and she does not take kindly to those who poke into her secrets.”

“Truly?” I asked. “I have merely studied at the city’s great library.” Shaking my head, I added, “I didn’t even find any magical lore, much less any of her secrets. I cannot see why she felt so threatened.”

“It does not matter to her,” he said. “You are a mage, and therefore, you are a rival in her eyes. She does not suffer competition in her realm, especially not right under her nose, in the very seat of her power.” He took another draught of his drink. “I may have promised you your life, but there are many others like me in her employ. She will have her way.”

“Then I will not stay to bother her further. I will leave this very night and not return. You can tell her what you like—that I fled, that you chased me to the harbor where I drowned, whatever you see fit. Will this satisfy her?”

“Flee, then, as soon as you may. If you are beyond her reach, you will be safe—but know that her reach is long. I doubt that you can escape.”

I did as he suggested, but fled farther than he or his Queen could comprehend. It was many years before I returned to that plane, much less that city. Only after she, her assassins, and everyone else who might have remembered me had died did I return, and even then, I took great care not to draw the attention of those killers.

A History of Assassination

If prostitution is truly the oldest profession, then assassination must be the next oldest. Since the beginning of recorded history, people have killed other people for political power. Sometimes, these murders are carried out directly. But those marked for murder are often protected by guardsmen, servants, and soldiers. In these cases, hired assassins—either trained assassins or turncoats conveniently placed amongst the very guards and soldiers—are effective. Throughout history, countless emperors, kings, priests, and other powerful leaders have died on the assassin’s blade.

The employment of assassins by those in power is no rarity, either. Assassins have been used as tools of the more brutal varieties of statecraft by the powerful in countless civilizations. It can even be said that most governments resort to assassination, whether directly or by couching it in terms of the work of “secret police” or “targeted killings” by snipers or other elite soldiers.

The concept of the Royal Assassin is common in fiction. In addition to the Realm of the Elderlings here, royally-sanctioned assassins can be found in the Malazan Empire, Tsolyánu and the other nations of Tékumel, Eärwa's Kellian Empire, and probably lots more that I haven't read yet.

Insurance Through Assassination

Mages have employed Royal Assassins for as long as duels have been fought. No matter how fearsome a rival’s summons are, all but a few fall to the Assassin’s blade when sent against his liege. Only those vigilant in combat escape unscathed, and the threat of assassination is often enough to hold back a rival’s forces from combat...at least until the rival finds a way to dispatch the Assassin.

The classic combo. I'd guess that this is the first card synergy that many of us stumbled upon back in the day.

A mage who controls an Assassin may wait for his or her rival’s allies to attack, but a clever mage will force their hands. The Icy Manipulator is the perennial favorite tool for the Assassin’s liege. With it, a mage no longer has to wait to be attacked, but can deploy his or her assassin at will—no battle necessary.

Danatoth of Alsoor


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Card of the Week: Seasinger

While Time Walk is undoubtedly her most famous, this is my favorite of Amy Weber's paintings.

Songs of Doom

It was not the seas that drew me to Sarpadia, but rather its cities. In my studies I had come across an ancient copy of Sarpadian Empires Volume VI. Its pages spoke of the might of doomed Icatia, and I hoped that I could find remnants of that civilization…and its secrets. But by the time I arrived on that blasted land it was far too late. Widenby, Montford, Trokair—all were long gone. Centuries had passed since the thrulls had turned on their masters in the Ebon Hand and, subsequently, on everyone else. Nothing remained of the once-great Icatian civilization. In a way it was beautiful, with the natural world taking back the land from the great works of humanity. Beautiful, that is, until the thrulls sensed my presence. I did not stay long.

I stayed long enough, though, to search for ley lines before fleeing to more hospitable lands. It was as I explored a strange collection of sand structures along the coast that I heard the singing. To say that it was beautiful does it an injustice—it was like nothing I had ever heard before or since. By tone, it was a woman’s voice, and it dipped low into an alto thrum before soaring into the highest soprano tones and back down again. I could not understand the words, but even so they spoke to my spirit. I could do nothing else than follow it out into the waves.

The sea was choppy and the currents were strong, and I am certain that had I needed to breathe I would have drowned. Dashed against reef, dragged down by the undertow, spat up again by upwellings, I struggled on, rabid in my determination to reach her. For she could be nothing other than the woman of my—of everybody’s—dreams. Her voice promised anything and everything. Happiness, passion, ecstasy, contentment: all would be ours, if only I could join her in her song.

Just as I began to despair, I broke the surface yet once more—and there she was, perched on a rock jutting out of the sea. Her beauty was a match for her voice, unearthly and ethereal. Her skin was pearl-white, and her tail glistened with jewel tones. But her eyes were more remarkable than all else: deep pools of ocean blue that looked right through me. I could not look away; she held my soul with her gaze. Still singing, she considered me for a long moment before a strange expression passed over her face like clouds over a sparkling sea—and she fell silent.

As her song broke, so too did her spell on me break. I looked upon her with clear eyes. Though she was still beautiful, she was no longer the vision of my dreams. Now, I could see her hair floating like seaweed where it hung down into the water. Her skin was still white, but more of a fishbelly shade than pearl. Her tail was still extraordinary, but covered in fish-like scales instead of gemstones. She had stopped singing voluntarily, but I could not speak even though I wanted to. I would have told her that I would be hers forever if she would but sing for me again—perhaps it is for the best that I was mute.

And then, while I was still trying to find my voice, she slipped from her rock and disappeared into the waves. I clambered onto her rock and watched the spot where I had last seen her. When my voice returned I called out to her, begging her to come back. I cried and raged, pleading with the sea and the sky and to all the gods I knew. But I never saw her again.

In later years, I have thought on her many times. I still don’t know why she freed me after calling me into the sea. Perhaps she meant to drown me, and only released me once she realized that I would not drown. Perhaps she expected to call something different—after all, no humans remained in Sarpadia when she called me. In the most secret places of my heart, I hope that she could see how much I loved her, and set me free out of love of her own, even though I cannot make sense of that. Whatever her reasons, I’ve come to realize that she did set me free. I don’t doubt that I’d have been happy with her, but it would have been the happiness of a well-kept pet in a gilded cage. By turning me loose, she gave me back my own life.

Elsewhere in the Multiverse

Ulysses and the Sirens, by Herbert James Draper, circa 1909.

Seasingers are but one example of many such beings throughout the multiverse. Women whose voices are so beautiful as to lure others into danger are found throughout the planes. Sirens, näcken, ruskali, kelpies, and more—there are as many names for them as there are taverns for sailors to tell tales of them. One of the most famous of these tales tells of a king who encounters an island of sirens while on a voyage home from war. He commands his crew to stop their ears against the song, but does not do so himself. Instead, he has his crew tie him to the mast and commands them to not release him no matter how he pleads for them to do so. As such, he hears their beautiful and deadly song and lives to tell the tale.

The Siren's Call of Betrayal

Seasingers are not often employed by mages in sorcerous combat. While their skills are undoubtedly powerful, their close ties to the oceans limit their usefulness. Their bond to the ocean require their victims to be in close proximity to islands. If not for this, I imagine that they would find more employment in battle. After all, their voices serve them better than the fire-and-brimstone sermons of the Preachers of the Church of Tal—Seasingers can choose who they lure into the water, whereas the churchmen cannot control who find themselves susceptible to their preaching.

Turn your opponent's lands into islands, capture their creatures with Seasinger, and sacrifice them to your Diamond Valley. Then attack with huge islandwalking merfolk!

But for those undeterred, the hindrance of the Seasingers can be mitigated through other magics. Though a Phantasmal Terrain only masks the true nature of a land’s ley line, it is enough to enable a Seasinger to call beings near the affected land as if they were truly by the ocean. This is doubly effective when the land affected is more useful for its effects than its mana: a Mishra’s Factory so enchanted cannot send its Factory Workers into battle, the Library of Alexandria is no longer a source of priceless knowledge.

A Diamond Valley would be cheaper to use than the Safe Haven, and it'd give me life in exchange for stolen creatures. But I'm not cool enough to have a Diamond Valley.

Once a Seasinger has lured a being into her clutches, the Seasinger’s controller may use the being as he or she wills. Formidable beings can be effective in attacking their summoners, or can be sacrificed to neutralize their threats—or to provide other benefits. Once sacrificed the Seasinger can call another, then another, until none remain to be called—at which point her allies may go into battle unopposed.

Danatoth of Alsoor


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The Northern Paladins 2019 Heroes of Legend Tournament

A Summons to Adventure

When I heard the call, I knew I had to respond. Angus MacKenzie was seeking brave mages to assist him in his struggle against Sol’Kanar the Swamp King, and I saw this as an opportunity. Not only could I potentially defeat the rogue Force of Nature and gain the accolades of Karakas, I might find the time to challenge other mages in sorcerous battle. I admit that  duelling against others was the true draw of the day, but the good of liberating the forests of Khone was nonetheless attractive.

My weapon for the day.

To both ends, I assembled a selection of red and black magic—a new development for me! I have long been wary of the destructive and corrupting magics so opposed to my preferred green and white, but I wished to expand my repertoire. Surely, flexibility and practice with these magics could only make me a better mage overall. From the mountains, I gathered a tribe of Sedge Trolls and procured a nest of Rukh Eggs. From the swamps, I summoned Hypnotic Specters and Guardian Beasts. I assembled a set of Nevinyrral’s Disks in my artificier’s workshop, and rounded out my spellbook with lightning, fire, and the usual dark magic.

Of course I knew that I'd have to break a few eggs, so I needed tokens to represent my omelets...er, Rukhs. If you'd like to make your own, here's a makeplayingcards.com-compatible file.

Before responding to MacKenzie’s call, I met with my oftentimes-rival/sometimes-ally, the Dread Lady Shade. She, too, had heard his call, and we decided that our chances of facing Sol’Kanar would be better if we pooled our resources. In exchange for her Badlands ley lines, I lent her a ley line to the Underground Sea and a pair of Icy Manipulators. This seemed familiar to me for good reason: she had rebuilt her Polluted Sea spellbook, the one that she used to mercilessly beat me with in our youth. With grim determination, I pledged that should I have a chance to duel against her this day, the results would be different.

My brave companion, with signatures from each of my opponents. But really, two exclamation marks? Could you have signed less gloatingly, Megan?

The Tournament

(For the official report and all decklists, go to http://northernpaladins.com/2019/11/08/northern-paladins-2019-heroes-of-legends-tournament-summary/.)

Upon arriving in Karakas, I found MacKenzie had found a companion for myself and each of my fellow mages to assist us in our battles against the Swamp King. My partner in this quest turned out to be Kasimir the Lone Wolf. Sadly, his blue and white alignment clashed with my chosen spellbook, and we could not fully assist each other in our fight. But his love for his canine companion speaks well for him, and I look forward to introducing him to my Wolf(hounds) of the Hunt in our future endeavors.

Joshua's 5-color Skittles.

My first rival of the day was Joshua, a new and welcome face in the crowd of Paladins and a practitioner of all five colors of magic. I leapt to an early lead in our first battle as he struggled to contain a flood of ley lines, and my Hypnotic Specters and Rukhs made short work of him. Though I felt confident with this early victory, I suffered from Joshua's fate in our next contest and fell to his Serra Angel, unable to defend myself. Our third and decisive fight was our only one where both of us had a chance to display our true skills, unhindered by our mana or lack thereof. I summoned a Sedge Troll for the early attack, and soon summoned a Rukh Egg to join him—but Joshua beat the egg with a Sword-wrought Plowshares before I could hatch it. Though I still had my troll, Joshua set out methodically destroying my defenses: my Nevinyrral's Disk fell to his Disenchantment, my Troll to a Blue Elemental Blast when I foolishly committed all of my ley lines to other ends and could not regenerate him. I managed to hold on for a while more by using more Disks to protect me from his Triskelions, but could not find another threat to bring him low. In the end, he defeated me with an Angel and a Triskelion. (0-1)

Dana's Angels 'n' Bunnies.

Discouraged by the close loss, I next encountered Dana and I hoped that I could put up a better fight than our last meeting where he pulverized me with red and green magic in record time. This time, he had brought a black and white deck featuring the feared lagomorphic Ebon Praetor and a host of Angels. I summoned my hosts in our first match and beat down his defenses early, but made a critical error in consulting my Demonic Tutor for another Sedge Troll instead of a Fireball when I could have defeated him with such. Instead, he lived long enough to summon the Praetor, and I fell to its fearsome buck teeth before I could find the Lightning needed to finish him off. In our second fight, he held me at bay with a Greater Realm of Preservation despite my large force of Trolls, Rukhs, and Guardian Beasts—I could not find a Disk to open the way through the Realm. And like Joshua did earlier, Dana picked away at my defenses until I could no longer defend myself from his Factories and Angel. (0-2)

Joe's Earth Elemental Aggro.

Hoping to pull myself together, I found myself challenged again by Joe. As he did in our previous encounters, he continued to show an affinity for red magic—though he supplemented it with white this time. It was this white magic that led to my demise in our first battle, as he called forth a Preacher to convert my horde Guardian Beasts and Trolls to his cause. Once I was defenseless, his Earth Elementals and Angels made short work of me. I started our second contest forcefully with a Dark Ritual-driven Hypnotic Specter, but Joe beat its Swords to Plowshares before it could harm him. Likewise, he leveraged his Strip Mines and Disenchants to destroy my lands and Moxen, then cast Manabarbs and Karma to keep me from recovering. My salvation came too late, as I discovered a Nevinyrral's Disk only after becoming too injured to cast it due to his Manabarbs. Without it to blast away his punishing enchantments, Karma soon bit me. (0-3)

Exhausted by my repeated failures to defeat my opponents, I sat out the next round of battles as the odd mage out, but was awarded a victory for the bye. (1-3)

Adam's Monoblack Land Destruction.

Member of the Horde-turned-Paladin Adam soon challenged me, and I once again took up my spellbook against his of black magic and land destruction. Our first contest was yet another defeat: I could not manage to summon enough creatures to defend against his forces. But it was his three Racks that defeated me—I had safely stayed out of their reach, but a sudden Mind Twist on his part cast me onto them to catastrophic results. I clawed my way back to victory in our second fight with two early Specters, and he was unable to resist their dementia-inducing power. And in our third battle, my strategies finally worked as my Guardian Beasts, Nevinyrrals' Disks, and Rukh Eggs cooperated to unleash a flock of Rukhs upon him. (2-3)

Megan's Polluted Sea, upgraded but still-recognizable from our battles of years past.

And so, as the day drew to a close, I found myself commiserating with the Dread Lady Shade at our poorer-than-expected showings. Self-deprecatingly, she wondered about which “loser” she would duel in her last battle. As it so happens, that “loser” turned out to be me—but I was determined to finally lay waste to her Polluted Sea and show her the error of her ways. However, it was not to be. In our first contest, Lady Shade leapt into the fight Serendib Efreeti first, and I could not keep up before the wicked genies sealed my fate. Though I vowed that I would put up a better fight in our rematch, our next battle was much the same; her Efreeti were joined by her Sengir Vampires, and I could do naught but suffer yet another merciless beating at her hands. (2-4)

Noooooo! Of course, she'll never let me live this down.

Though disappointed by my poor showing, I happily joined my fellow mages in celebrating the defeat of Sol'kanar (at the hands of Workshop-wielder Jordan). In these festivities, I was recognized as Legendarily Destructive for my use of Nevinyrral's Disk. But more importantly, my weekly research and commentary on the spells that we cast had been noticed by the Paladins, and they rewarded me with the key to summoning the great Palladia-Mors for my Paladin Spirit.

I'm honored that my dumb blog puts me in the same league as John and Adam (who organized this tournament) and Michael (who sees that our charitable contributions go to those in need). They're truly the ones with Paladin Spirit!

And finally, though my luck was severely lacking throughout the day's battles, it came through in the end as I won a beautiful representation of our spiritual founder, the archetypal Northern Paladin himself. It shall hang with pride on my wall and (hopefully) inspire me to victory in the future!

The spoils of, uh, defeat?

Beautiful. Now I just need to get a frame...

Danatoth of Alsoor


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Card of the Week: People of the Woods

I love the Drew Tucker artwork here. The vague watercolors really nail the feeling of the piece.

Hidden in the Woods

I had the misfortune to discover my magical talents during the height of the Church of Tal’s power. Though I tried to be careful, my youthful delusions of invulnerability and my desire to attempt more powerful and risky spells soon drew the eyes of the Church’s inquisitors. I soon found myself on the run, the city’s great mechanical gates forever behind me. Despite my magic I had not yet learned to planeswalk, and so I had to resort to more mundane means to keep ahead of the zealous Witch Hunters. So I struck inland, towards the wilds of Giva Province.

Though it had once been a land of rich farms and orchards, the colder weather and growing threat of goblins had driven much of Giva’s human inhabitants south, into the open arms of the Church. The few who stayed were unable to maintain the cultivated fields, and the woods began to reclaim the land. Though the Church’s grip on Giva was less secure than it was in the southern cities, they still held power there. Uncomfortable in the open, I fled to those woods for shelter.

Of course, I was foolish to think that I was the only one to take to the forests...or the first. I quickly discovered that I had invaded upon the territories of the People of the Woods, a loose-knit alliance of outlaws, refugees, and woodsmen fierce in their defense of their freedom from greater authority.

Not an hour had passed after entering the woods before the first arrow shrieked past my head. I looked about, but could see nothing but the surrounding trees through the gloom. I stood stock-still for a long while, convinced that another arrow would follow at any moment. But after none came, I recalled my talents. Casting a Circle of Protective magic about myself, I continued on into the woods.

The next two arrows that came were not warnings like the first, and would have taken my eyes had my magic not turned them aside. And when these failed to kill me, my assailants launched a volley of arrows into the sky to rain down upon me, but again to no avail. Knowing that I had the upper hand, I called out to them. Though my words were of truce, I kept my ley lines ready—both to protect myself from further attacks and to force peace upon them should I need.

They came down from the branches above and out from behind the great trunks and massive boulders. Rugged-looking men and women, all dressed in worn leathers and ragged homespun, all armed with spears and axes and, most especially, bows. None were pleased at my presence, but while some looked outright hostile others seemed curious.

Since the People of the Woods could not harm me with their arrows and I did not wish to harm them either, we came to an uneasy peace. Their leader, a tall and stout woman with a scar across her face, gave me leave to live with them as long as I could contribute to the band. And so I spent my first winter outside of Alsoor amongst them, using my magic to heal wounds and assist with the hunt. But while they were not zealots—many had fallen on the wrong side of the Church's inquisition too—they never accepted my magic fully. Perhaps they feared drawing the Church's attention by harboring a mage, or perhaps they held onto a similar if lesser fear of magic themselves. But come spring, I still felt my welcome thin. I left them to find my fortune in other lands...but not before taking the knowledge of summoning them to my aid. I have yet to call upon them, but there may come a time when I need them to pay back my favors.

Outlaws and Folk Heroes

The People of the Woods were just one of many such groups throughout the ages. Even in the best of times, some people find that they cannot live within civilized society. Some may be criminals, others outcasts. With no protection from the law, they band together for protection and take unsettled lands for their homes—often forests, but also desolate moors, deserts, and other wild areas. And in more difficult the times, more and more people find refuge in the woods.

Robin Hood and his Merry Men—the most famous People of the Woods since circa 1370!

Though some of those who take to the woods for shelter are peaceful, the most well-known of them are outlaws and highwaymen. With no protection from the law, they have little to lose from robbing those who cross their lands. And since those they rob from are typically wealthy and powerful—there’s not much profit to be had from stealing from the poor—outlaws are often romanticized by the common folk. In times of political or religious oppression, their opposition to authority may be seen as heroic by those oppressed, even those who still abide by the laws.

Going into Battle with the People

Few mages call upon the People of the Woods in serious battles. Despite the fact that their strength in numbers grows in proportion to the green ley lines that a mage has bound, they are comparatively difficult to summon into battle. Most green mages opt instead to summon Pixies or more Elves or even Scavenger Folk in their stead—the strength in numbers of the People of the Woods just isn’t effective in comparison to the skills of these other beings. And for their numbers to be sufficiently large for the People to be effective defenders, a mage would need to focus solely on green magic—and even then, an Erhnam Djinn or the like is a much more effective defender and can take to the offensive as well.

It's a shame that the People of the Woods aren't better in game. I mean, look at this! Six arrows should mean at least 6/*, right?

Danatoth of Alsoor


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Card of the Week: Black Lotus

 

It's seen better days, but it's still my pride and joy.

A Perilous Journey

I was a week out of the city when my guides abandoned me. I had known they would. They were leery taking me up the rivers to begin with, for they had heard the stories. When I had hired them, I assured them that I wasn’t going to the forbidden swamps, that I had instead heard rumors of gemstones in the rocky outcroppings of the area. I paid them an outrageous fee to take me as far as they did, but I knew that I would find no cheaper guides.

I could have made the journey on my own. As a mage, I was used to exploring distant lands for new ley lines. As a green mage, my magic could coax the jungle into providing for my needs. As a planeswalker, I could flee the world itself if I found myself in real trouble. But that would have taken far longer than hiring guides, and in that time, I’d have risked another finding what I was looking for.

They left in a mad rush, fearing for their lives and their sanity. It was not superstition on their part, for I knew well the risks of my undertaking. The forbidden swamps were treacherous and filled with poisonous snakes and virulent plagues. And the stories of what grew in the swamps were known to every child of their city—a plant whose mere touch was deadly poison, the scent of whose flowers brought nightmare visions and feverish dreams. This plant was, of course, what I sought.

As soon as my guides had they disappeared around the river bend, still making warding signs against madness in my direction, I knelt down to the muddy riverbank and scooped up a handful of mossy soil. With the slightest hint of magic, it shaped itself into a miniature replica of the land around me—trickles of water reflecting the meandering rivers around me, tiny fronds standing in for the trees, lines of pebbles representing the occasional rocky outcroppings. And over on the edge, a dark stain of rotted plant matter. I knew which way to go.

The trek through the jungles took two more miserable days of backbreaking effort. Nowhere was there a path save for those my magic opened for me. Every mile brought with it pits of sucking mud and thickets of impenetrable vegetation. The mosquitoes were far more ravenous than any vampire of Sengir’s lineage. The miasmic heat of the day was unbearable, and the night brought little relief. But on the third morning, the trees thinned out and the mud turned into standing water. Though a mist too thick to ever burn off hung over the water and blocked my vision, I knew what I sought was close.

I waded out into the water, and finally, there it was. Great round leaves floated in the stagnant water, and above them spiked tall stalks ending in seed pods...and one great flower of black petals and purple pistils still in bloom. I approached with caution and gathered the dried seed heads, careful to avoid contact with any part of the plant that might still hold deadly juice. I left the bloom where I found it—even though it was what I valued most I could not bear to destroy such beauty. And if all went well, I would be growing my own blooms before long anyway.

Crush the Flowers, See the Smoke Drifting Before You, Hear the Lamentations of the Visions!

Though the legendary Black Lotus is known throughout the multiverse, my research leads me to believe that it is native to the original plane of Rabiah from which all others were refracted. Ancient tales from that world, far older than Alexandria or Cairo, speak of an age undreamed of. Between the time when the oceans drank Atlantis and the rise of the sons of Aryas, the Black Lotus became infamous. Its juice was a deadly poison, as was its powdered form. The scent of its blooms brought evil dreams. But it was most infamously used by the necromancers of Stygia, who burned Black Lotus pollen and inhaled the dark green fumes produced. Though the fumes induced a coma-like sleep, the crimson nightmares within restored the magical powers of the sorcerers who partook of the Lotus.

Conan must not be a mage, otherwise he'd have tapped that lotus for three mana!

The knowledge of the Black Lotus has since spread throughout the planes, as has its cultivation. Originally found in the jungles of Khitai, where it was cultivated by the yellow-skulled priests of Yun, it can be grown in any similar climate. (It is an aquatic plant, growing in lakes and swamps where the water is suitably shallow.) And while rare, its sheer power has ensured that the flower has been introduced to many, many places across the multiverse.

Unlimited (or Alpha, or Beta, or Collector's) Power!

Any mage, no matter his or her preferred colors or techniques, can benefit from the Black Lotus. It provides immense power with no drawback (aside from its rarity, of course). It is the most sought-after magical talisman for good reason—its smoke-borne visions allow mages to cast complex spells or summon huge creatures long before they normally could and provide a huge advantage in battle. Even in the later stages of sorcerous battle when both mages have established their ley lines, the Lotus can be an unexpected source of power.

Black Lotus. Stygian. The Best!

Danatoth of Alsoor


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Card of the Week: Savannah

Uh, I think there's some trees out there. Maybe if I squint real hard...

A New Home

Though I was born in Alsoor and still use it to name myself, in truth I did not stay in that doomed city for long. Even had it not fallen to the Diabolical Machines, I likely would have left—the Church of Tal held the city firmly in its iron-fisted grip, and they did not suffer sorcerers to live. To practice my magic I had to flee, both to escape persecution and to find ley lines suitable to my preferences. To that end, I crossed the oceans to the Domains. Ironically, I found aid, comfort, and new home in Parma—a land named in the scripture of the very same Church of Tal that I fled.

Parma is famous, of course, as the home of the Northern Paladins. It is a vast land of grassy prairie, great winding rivers, and some ten thousand lakes; rich in the white ley lines that empower its virtuous warriors. But to the north, far from the towns and farms of the Paladins, there are also thick forests of spruce and pine. I made my home where the prairie and the forest met—and it was the very boundary between the two that drew me to settle there.

In this liminal place, the prairies and the forests blend together. Here, the grasses are interspersed with great oak trees. The spring brings great blooms of flowers, and the high summer is golden and warm. The winters are harsh, but the trees cut the worst of the wind that howls off of the plains. It is a place of great beauty.

But it was not the beauty of the oak Savannah that interested me the most, nor was it the distance from the more populous parts of Parma. (Admittedly, I soon learned that the Northern Paladins are not the murderous fanatics that the inquisitors of Alsoor were, though they share the same faith in Tal. I need not have worried about living near them.) As with all wizards, it was the ley lines that were most important to me. For in addition to the white lines of the nearby plains and the green lines of the neighboring forests, the ley lines of the oak Savannah proved versatile in providing both white and green mana depending on my needs! I have since discovered many other lands in Dominaria that provide similar versatility, but those of Parma’s oak Savannah taught me of the possibilities first.

More than Just Lions

A savannah right here in Minnesota.

To most people, Savannahs bring to mind hot plains of tall grass and acacia trees, havens for zebras and warthogs and (of course) Lions. But while this is perhaps the most famous type of savannah, the term refers more generally to any place where woodlands and grasslands coexist; where the trees are not so dense as to form a closed canopy. These types of places exist throughout the world and are called by many different names: chaparrals, shrublands, pine barrens, cerrados, montados—these, too, are all savannahs.

Regardless of what they are called, savannahs maintain a balance between the grasslands and the forests. This is often through the actions of fires that burn away all but the most fire-resistant trees; smaller trees are burned while the grasses and forbs quickly regrow from seed or surviving root systems. These fires, in turn, require a dry-season long enough to create favorable conditions. However, the balance can be disturbed by many things. Fire may be vital for the savannah itself, but most people who live on one fear it and may suppress its natural cycle. A reduced likelihood of wildfire may prompt a change to the forest. Alternately, deforestation for farming and pasture can push the balance towards the grasslands. Destruction of groundcover can lead to the erosion of the topsoil, and in extreme cases can cause desertification.

Paws down, the most famous of all savannah dwellers.

The rich plant life of savannahs supports a large amount of animal life. Tropical savannahs are well known for gazelles and giraffes, and the lions and hyenas that prey upon them. Likewise, temperate savannahs may support the likes of deer and bison, which in turn are hunted by wolves and bears. Some agriculturists also find the bounty of savannahs beneficial—when properly managed, the grasses provide ample forage for livestock while the trees can bear additional fodder, nuts, fruits, and timber. Such agricultural methods are among the oldest in use.

Drawing on the Savannahs

The versatility of a Savannah’s ley lines is obviously valued by any mage that dabbles in both green and white magic, but especially so to a true devotee of both. In the ancient ways, most such devotees find the strategy of summoning powerful entities such as Djinn or Angels as quickly as possible and then cutting access to all ley lines in the area before a rival can use them with a timely Armageddon, to be most effective. I myself employ this method in many of my battles, and find it both efficient and satisfying.

My pride (pun intended!) and joy. I'm running it for the Northern Paladins Fall League. Someday, I'll get the other two Savannahs I need.

Even so, those who dabble in green magic often seek out the Savannahs as well. White magic seems to be used far more often in battle than green, yet the controlling white mages often find one green spell in particular—Regrowth—to be of great value. By binding a Savannah or four to themselves in place of more Plains, they gain the ability to cast Regrowth at need without disrupting their access to white mana for Disenchanting and beating Swords into Plowshares.

Danatoth of Alsoor


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