Card of the Week: Verduran Enchantress

The artwork for Verduran Enchantress is one of my favorites in all of Magic.

A Forbidden Land

She sat down across from me and made herself comfortable, lounging back on a generous pile of cushions. She looked me over with a skeptical eye but she must have found me acceptable, for she smiled and spoke. Her voice was low but powerful—I had no trouble hearing her words despite the quiet of their forming. “I understand that you seek the heart of Verdura, yes?”

“I do,” I replied. In the silence that followed she stared at me, obviously expecting more of an answer—a request that was all the more powerful for being unspoken. “I have heard of the primeval forests of this island, untouched by axe, and would see them with my own eyes,” I added, unwilling to state the obvious.

Her smile returned, but this time it was cold. “Just to see them, yes? You must think me a fool, to tell me such a lie. I am an Enchantress, and I know another mage when I meet one. You are here for the forests, but not to observe. You wish to bind its ley lines to yourself, yes?”

I bowed my head. “I mean no insult to you, or to anyone else,” I said. “Yes, I do wish to find new ley lines, but I assure you I mean no harm to the forest.”

She nodded, apparently satisfied. “Very well. But even if I believe your intent is good, you cannot enter the forest, yes? You cannot pass beyond the borders of this port city.” She glanced down from my face. “It is forbidden for one such as yourself to intrude on our domain.”

Did she refer to my status as a foreigner? As a mage who practiced other colors of magic? It took me a moment to realize what she meant. “Men cannot enter the forest?” I asked. “Just mages, or all men in general?”

She shook her head. “All men are forbidden. Just as the spirit of Verdura is mother to all who live here, so too must we be as mothers to the children of her sacred forest, yes? Men cannot be mothers, and cannot tend to the children of the forest as we do.”

“So no men, even those born to this land and devoted to the spirit of Verdura, can never enter the forest? Even if they are equally as devoted as their mothers, their sisters, their wives? Would not Verdura rather have more who tend to her ways than less?”

The Enchantress was silent for a long moment, a frown creasing her brow. “It is not for me to know the thoughts of Verdura’s spirit,” she finally said. “But this is the way that we have honored her for generations upon generations, and it has served us well. Those men who wish to may revere her in their own ways, and those who chafe at the ancient laws may leave. There are, I hear, plenty of places for them elsewhere in the world.”

For a moment, I thought to argue against Verdura’s rules, but I held back. Who was I to tell this woman how she and her fellow Enchantresses should manage their own land? Trying to force my way in would only, in the best case, see me on an outbound boat sooner rather than later. “Very well, I understand. You have my word that I will not go inland.”

“That is good,” she replied. “I would not wish to kill you, yes? For that is the price that a man must pay should he intrude in Verdura’s forests. But do not be disappointed—for those not native to our land, one forest is much like another, and you will find others.” She smiled at me, and this time it seemed genuinely warm. “But you are welcome to stay in this village for as long as you like. You surely know magic that we do not, and we know that which you don't. We can learn from each other, yes?”

Women and Magic

The Enchantresses of Verdura are not unusual in their connection to magic. In many cultures, magic is seen as a feminine art. Depictions of women mages are varied, from images of old women hunched over bubbling cauldrons to women as oracles and seers to temptresses who ensnare their victims with dark magic, but are not at all uncommon. Indeed, in some cultures that see magic as the purview of women it can be seen as taboo for men to practice magic.

In Germanic traditions, prophecy and other magic is often the purview of women. Veleda, Jules Eugène Lenepveu, 1883.

An Enchanting Strategy

Calling on the Verduran Enchantresses is perhaps not the most effective way to fight a battle, but the lure of its promise has long been a siren's call to those mages who seek creative new strategies. Some day, they hope, perhaps someone will find the right combination of spells to make the Verduran Enchantresses a power to be reckoned with. But even if that day never comes, there are still many mages willing to ally themselves with Verdura.

I assume that wombats are popular pets on the island of Verdura. Like the Enchantress, the Popcorn-Eating Wombat goes well with enchantments. Combine the two for greater effect!

Naturally, those who ally with the Enchantresses fill their spellbooks with enchantments—many of which are staples of sorcerous combat in any case, but take on a new prominence here. With the backing of the Enchantresses, each enchantment cast is another source of knowledge—knowledge that often results in yet more enchantments to cast. If all goes well, one’s Enchantress allies can enable a mage to access a great portion of their knowledge at once. With all resources at hand, a mage need only to pick and choose a spell to seize victory.

Danatoth of Alsoor


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Card of the Week: Mind Twist

The artwork feels isolated and claustrophobic. I can feel his anguish!

The True Depths of Evil

It is said that there are wounds that never completely heal. Indeed, legends tell of wraith-knives whose cuts plague their victims for the rest of their days and spear-thrusts whose venom can only be contained by the corruption of a dagger-wound laid on top. But not all wounds are physical, and these too can persist long after they are inflicted.

It should come as little surprise to those who have listened to me before that I find black magic distasteful. I have found it so from the very beginning, as my earliest rival threw herself willingly into its maw and never looked back. I’ve battled against black wizardry since I first became a mage, and have battled against it more often than any other. But as distasteful as I find skeletons and zombies, as corrupt as vampires and demons are, they do not hold a candle to the true evil of black magic.

I would say I remember it clearly, but I do not. What I do recall is that it was a battle like any other. I sent my summonings against my foe, defended against the same, and cast my spells of aggression and defense. Until I couldn’t. Until some fell force took hold on my mind and squeezed, squeezed until nothing was left. No spells, no summonings, scarce any idea even of who I was. I reeled, utterly lost as to where I was or what I was doing. Needless to say, my foe defeated me that day.

Days at least and probably weeks passed before my memories returned and I felt comfortable that I was who I thought I was again. Instinct must have guided me after the battle, for the strange tower I first woke up in gradually became familiar as my home. As more time passed, I recalled more and more, from childhood memories to potent spells. But even now, many years and several more Twistings of my Mind later, a fear still gnaws at my heart. How can I be sure that I have remembered everything? What memories might never have come back? And if I have irrevocably lost memories, am I a different person than I was before? Just how many wounds do I bear, not even knowing how I am wounded?

Alas, suffering such an evil spell as Mind Twist is not the only wound that does not heal completely. For I have discovered since that using such a spell wounds one’s soul as well. I am not proud of resorting to such foul sorcery—it shames my every waking thought! But desperation is ever more powerful than morality, and when the battle for life and land is at risk my will is as weak as any other mage’s. And in the heat of battle, the thought of victory at any cost does not seem unjust.

But the aftermath is different. To see a foe, no matter how hated or corrupt, gibbering and drooling without any trace as to who they once were forces you to see just how depraved and monstrous you truly are. And this, too, leaves a wound. But unlike the other, this wound is obvious and it festers. It eats away at you as you remember what you’ve done. And you realize that as bad as the realization may be, the true horror is that you feel less guilty each time you cast a spell such as Mind Twist. One day, you’ll feel no guilt at all, and then you will truly be a monster—you’ll have finally succumbed to your wounds.

A History of Forgetfulness

While the amnesia of the Mind Twist is a grave cruelty, forgetfulness is an integral part of sorcery. Once brought to mind and cast, a spell cannot be readily cast again in the same battle. Mages have devised numerous spells and artifacts to mitigate this weakness, but mitigation is the best that can be done. Though some may curse it, it is only when the forgetfulness is forced that it is evil rather than merely inconvenient.

Though this forgetfulness is well known to mages, it is a feature that predates the laws of magic set forth by the great deity Garfield. In his creation, Garfield may have taken inspiration from older gods still, Gygax and Arneson, patrons of dungeon-delving. Gygax, likewise, was inspired by a primordial god known only as Vance, whose legends speak of wizards of a Dying Earth who must force spells into their minds only to forget them after casting them.

Memorizing spells and forgetting them after they're cast is often known as "Vancian" magic, and originates in the Dying Earth books. It also fits the mechanics of removing spell cards from your hand after casting them. M:tG isn't exactly like spellcasting in Vance's novels, of course, but it's reasonably close.

Wringing Out Victory

As monstrous as it is, Mind Twist has no shortage of practitioners. It is too powerful for many to forgo, even those who otherwise eschew black magic. To reduce a rival to a helpless wretch or just to erase a spell or two from their mind is too much an advantage to pass by when victory can be attained with but one dire spell.

This'd be part of a promising opening hand.

Though many risk corruption in its use, there are truly vile wizards who make Mind Twist and similar spells the entirety of their strategy. Not content to merely strip the minds of their foes, these mages further torture their victims on The Rack. In this sadistic manner, the memory loss is not just a way to keep their opponents from casting spells, but also the direct way to defeat them.

There are a few mages, however, who have seen the disastrous effect that Twisting a rival’s Mind has and have vowed not to employ such a vile spell. While these gentlefolk may have not eschewed its use entirely, they have agreed to forgo its use when battling each other.

Black Rack—easy to put together on a budget, powerful, and fun to play!

Danatoth of Alsoor


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Card of the Week: Land's Edge

The rift behind that guy's head makes him look like he has antlers. Or maybe he does have antlers and that isn't a rift...I'm not entirely sure.

The End of the World

When my sister and I were children, our mother and father would tell us stories to lull us to sleep at night. Whether about faraway lands, fantastic journeys, and fearsome beasts, we would hang on every word...until we could no longer when sleep finally dragged us down. Many of these stories lost their potency as I grew older and more jaded, and our parents stopped telling us stories after some time anyway. But one of them still fascinated me long after the others became mundane: the edge of the world.

It wasn’t the silver horses that brought us to the edge of the multiverse, or the portal through which we could see eternity that fascinated me, though those words were powerful all on their own. Rather, it was the idea of the very end of the land beyond which was nothing that captured my imagination—or rather lack thereof. For in all my mind, I could not picture what lay beyond the land. I could imagine the end: a place where the seas spilled over the edge of the land, perhaps, but beyond? No matter what I thought—endless skies, countless stars—I could not conceive of nothing, for even skies and stars are something.

After I grew to manhood, I realized that there was no end to the land. While the seas stretched out beyond Alsoor’s eastern horizon and the lands beyond the west, there was always more land or sea to cross until a traveler might come back to where he or she started. But even later—after discovering other planes—I learned that that while there may be no edge of Dominaria, there were some planes that did just end.

I made a point to visit the edge of the world on the first of these planes that I visited. I am sure that the sailors that I hired thought me insane. Indeed, they feared for their lives: the waters near the edge of the world were dangerous and fickle, they said. Out there, the currents of the water spilling over the edge were so strong that no ship could escape should they be caught in them. A skilled crew might be able to avoid them, but still, the risk was great. But ever are people willing to risk their lives for treasure, and my gold was enough to hire a crew.

We sailed for days, and the sailors became ever more nervous as the shore fell farther and farther behind. In front of us, the sky grew dark even in the middle of the day. A great sound arose, first so low and deep that I could scarcely hear it over the wind and waves. But it soon strengthened until nothing else could be heard—the roar of a thousand waterfalls as the sea crashed over the edge.

And then, the edge came into view. It terrified even me: on one side the ocean, turbulent and wild but still real, and on the other nothing. The sky tapered off above the edge, too: the sun still shone far behind us, the sky above us was dark, but again there was nothing over the edge. I heard the sailors behind me, crying out orders to turn the ship around, and indeed the ship began to swing away from the doom in front of me. But as it did, I caught sight of a rocky island at the very edge, the waters of the ocean rushing around it as they tumbled into the void.

Sadak in Search of the Waters of Oblivion by John Martin, 1812. While the story that inspired the painting doesn't involve the edge of the world, the painting certainly looks like it fits the theme.

I left the ship then, bending blue ley lines to whisk myself from the deck to the island at Land’s Edge. I found myself clinging to a rock precariously close to the waters—would I fall in, I would have no hope of pulling myself back out before the undertow dragged me over the edge. I climbed up the crag until I reached the summit, then looked out before me. I cannot describe in words the emptiness I saw before me, for language fails in the face of unbeing. It was not sky, it was not the space between the stars, it was not even emptiness. It had no color—not even the black one sees when they close their eyes. I could not look upon it for long, so I turned my eyes to the waters. As they fell, they dissipated first into rain, into mist, into cloud, and finally into the same nothingness. And it was not just the waters: from time to time, they would sweep a great piece of the seabed along with them, and these too would dissipate into the void.

I watched for as long as my mind could stand, then...left. I do not know which world I arrived on, but I had never been so grateful to have solid land around me as far as I could see. And when I left that plane too, I made sure to return to Dominaria, for I knew that its land has no end.

Believing in the Edge

Even in planes where the land is shaped into a sphere, there are people who believe in the edge of the world. Most planes are so vast that a person standing on it sees it as flat, as the curve of the earth is so subtle as to be almost unnoticeable. But signs of the curvature are there if one knows where to look. The fact that one can see much farther from the top of a mountain than from the lowlands below—and yet still see a horizon—is but one way to disprove those who believe that the world is flat.

But such thoughts are not always obvious, and it is the nature of mortals to assume that the truth is only what is obvious to them. Without any reason to believe that the world is not flat, without proof to the contrary, the assumption that the world is flat becomes unchallenged. Indeed, the oldest myths and legends from cultures across the world often portray it as such. As cultures advance most learn that this is false, but myths are powerful and still resonate long past the times that they are superseded by learning. Indeed, there are strange people to this day who stubbornly choose to believe in myth in the face of evidence to the contrary, and even seek to “prove” that it is indeed correct all along.

Living on the Edge

Though my first encounter with Land’s Edge was unsettling, I have since learned of its use in battle. Like any other, those who fight here are at risk of plummeting over the edge...but the clever can use the edge to their advantage as well. By flinging the crumbling land at an opponent, a wizard can wreak serious havoc.

Ahh, a classic!

Perhaps the most effective way to take advantage of Land’s Edge is to combine it with Land Tax. Through clever manipulation of the tax loopholes, a mage may gather enough lands to fling at a foe that he or she may gain victory in one fell swoop. Other spells and artifacts may assist in this endeavor, such as the Library of Leng to ensure that enough lands are available.

While the employment of Land Tax upon it is among the most powerful use of Land’s Edge, one often overlooked use is worth noting. Since using the Land’s Edge spell physically moves the battle to the edge of a plane, it is useful in moving said battle away from an even more dangerous location. A mage who finds herself battling in the Abyss, for example, may find it advantageous to cast Land’s Edge just to escape.

Yes, it's the same deck as last week. But hey, it's what inspired me to choose Land's Edge for this week's card!

Danatoth of Alsoor


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