Kasimir, the Lonely man

 "People souls — perennial loners. They're loners like stray stars"--Antoni Lange, Lonliness 

Kasimir, hands down, is one of the strangest legends in Legends (which says something) and is also one of the worst. Both of these things are spectacular accomplishments, given legends track record. However, a card is more than it's usefulness, but the sum of it's parts. So I need to ask this, when factoring in art and flavor, is Kasimir a bad card?

Art: RKF can never disappoint, Kasimir is no different. A large, bulky barbarian with a wolf by his side. A small battle axe, and some vague mysterious background elements (is the sun setting behind a mountain, or just clouds?). Richard works well on this, showing off enough unique detail of his legends that they show they aren't the common rank and file, while leaving plenty for the imagination to fill in the gaps. Kasimir is no different, with his teeth necklace, his fur cape and his rune battle axe. The wolf is a nice touch as well, but probably the weakest part of the art, since it steals the limelight from Kasimir. Art: 4/5

  Playability: So, lets look at him objectively, he's a 5/3, same stats as a juggernaut, he doesn't have to attack each turn, but can be blocked by walls. He's in two colors (one of which is blue), and he costs 2 more mana than Juggernaut. I'm not going to lie, I use to really like this guys art (and still do), but he's clearly a bad card. No wonder why he's a loner, no one wants to cast him. Still, the white does allow him to be pumped by a large number of cards, and for that, I'll give him a point. 2/5

Flavor: Probably the strangest thing of the card. It's a w/u card, of a former holy man, who took up the sword (or axe). His art screams Red/Green, his flavor text shouts Green/White. He is a 5/3 which is good for a human, but I'm not sure if that also includes the wolf in the art. If one good thing to be said about Kasimir is that his flavor text is vague enough to bring curiosity to it. Flavor 1/5.

Total 7/15=(rounded up) 2/5.

So is Kasimir a bad card? Yes. Should you love it anyway, by all means, of coarse. It's the outliners like this that are nice to have, even if they stay home in your box.

"Popular indeed is the of how Kasimir was once in a deck. But this tale is no more likely than any other".

The Northern Paladin; A story (part two)

"Wake up you lazy sissy" a gruff feminine voice said from the other side of the room. How long had he passed out, it couldn't of been a full hand of the clock, could it? "Hey did you drown in there!" it said with a punch on the door.

"I'm up, tell the lord I'll be at the table in ten...." he said rising from the water. He looked over his form in the mirror, threw back his long hair, grabbed his dagger, and started to shave. "You know, I don't know why you insist on bathing every day, it's not natural to wash of Gabriels dirt so often" the voice shouted from the other end of the door. "Even the royalty don't do it as much as you, are ya some kind of dandy!". The jests were one of routine that had come common between the two of them. "Of please, you Benalkin are just a bunch of street shitters who wouldn't know cleanliness if it was given to you by the sky!" A laugh was shared between the two, and the footsteps from her boots could be heard as she walked off.

"When this is over, I'm going to make you my wife" he mumbled as he finished his shave. No, there was no romance, no desire of courtly love from him, he had long since put such foolishness of youth behind him. No, this was much more logical then that. They got along well enough, she was strong, of perfect age. Any child she could produce would be worth it's weight in gold and silver. Plus, he didn't know much about Benalia, but he knew that another word for Hero was Hobo.

Benalia had an extremely complex esoteric caste system, that changed with the lunar calendar of the Pale Moon. This was set up through mechanization of the nations founder Torsten Von Ursus, to keep ruling powers in check, and it largely had worked very well. Benalia was one of the most powerful empires in Dominaria, and it largely was thanks to it's caste system keeping families from getting stagnant. However, the caste rank of Hero existed outside of that. It was an knight errant without the glory, a soldier without the pay. Though the caste was often glorified, and was suppose to come with the most respect, such ideals weren't always a reality. This didn't stop countless youths from attempting to achieve such a lofty goal, whom she was one who succeeded.

He figured she didn't have much to return to anyway, and instead, would offer a comfortable life up north. If she denied, well he could always arrange for a marriage after this, with no harm, no foul. 

At this point, the cloth and armor was back on, and he looked at himself. The 'holy armor' he was gifted was terrifying, and had a horrible visage. It was a dark black, with two horns on the helmet. However, he took it up as part of a scare tactic, and it certainly saved his life more than once.

Suddenly, the alarm sounded. 'On the book of Tal!' the knight cussed to himself as he ran towards the dining hall. Inside, the Planeswalker, the Hero, and the three soldiers each stood, leaning over the table. On it, was a map of the grounds, with various table utensils as the forces. 'He's going to attempt a full on attack, currently he's about half an hour away, but he will be here soon.'

"Why are there so many?" the youngest soldier asked. A kid no more then 15, with bright green eyes and red hair. "You promised us his forces had diminished!"

"Yes, this seems to be the opposite of what I was lead to believe as well" said Freshwater as he walked into the room. 'Glad you can join us, well you see, I wasn't entirely truthful. Our dear enemy had summoned a great and powerful warrior, one who had retired some many years ago, Hazezon Tamar. When he was summoned, word got out across his domain, and warriors came from every corner, every small town and isolated woods, to join him in battle."

The paladin's eyes squinted, though angry, he understood why the secret was made. "So how many men do you think are coming?'

'Probably, between the sand warrior, the Calvary, and the dervishes, at least a hundred'.

"We should surrender!"

"NEVER!!!"

A tense few moments were had, before Lightbringer said 'I have a few plans left up my sleeves'. He walked to a cabinet, and pulled out three rings. 'Jewels, for an emergency, I can only use them once, but they will allow me some spare mana'. He polished the mox on his neck, showing the with pearl with a gleam. "Paladin, take the pikemen and go to the gate, Hero, come with me".

"We are going to die... we are going to die..." the young soldier said, pacing back and forth before the gate. The second soldier, simply looked at his feet, while the oldest looked through the gate, onto the horizon. "Where are they..." he said aloud, his hands gripping onto the cage. "They will be here when the arrive" said Freshwater. '"MEN! Listen up. I know it might seem like certain death, but we must trust the walker, he hasn't set us wrong yet. Trust him, and trust yourselves, for this shall be our finest hour!" He then noticed, they weren't looking at him, but looking at the horizon. There stood a force of about 100 men, all well fed and trained.

"Lightbringer! Surrender and convert, and I will promise mercy on you and your subjects!" a booming voice yelled from the other end of the battlefield. "Listen to logic, your mana is gone, your numbers are dwindling. Lets end this, it's late".

Al-Hajjar was a lean, old man. His eyes, a dark black, had a rather intense look, which complimented his long, dark grey beard, which hung down in a fine groomed fashion to his chest. He wore a crimson red robe, with green and white accents, made from fine silks and cotton. On his neck rested a necklace with three moxen, a ruby, an emerald, and a pearl, each one freshly charged and ready. He too, had a ring similar in style to the one on Lightbringers hand, along with another jeweled ring.

Next to him stood Hazezon Tamar. The warrior was ancient, the fact he was walking at all was amazing in itself, but the idea he could fight would be even less believable, if Freshwater hadn't known better. He carried a great tulwar, and with it, easily 30 men.

"Al! You fool! Your ignorance is only matched by your smell! It's you who will parish tonight!"

There was a tense few seconds, and then, a motion. The men moved into formation, getting ready for their charge. "Now hold the line, and keep them at arms reach, they can't pierce the walls..." and that's when the gate opened.

Suddenly the hero walked by them, not a word said, not even a passing glance. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?!" shouted Freshwater. 'My orders' she replied stoicly. She held in her hand, the Runesword, it's magical energy glowed, illuminating along side her. "You always said to trust the walker, I shall do it".

"I'm going to talk some sense into our crazy leader, you three, go out there with her, and do whatever she says, or you'll be lucky to die out there!" The three ran out without a seconds notice, pikes in hand, as he rushed up to the wall. "Freshwater! I was hoping you would come up here, I have a special plan for you!" said Lightbringer 'You will see something beautiful'. 'Lightbringer, I'm not one to question a Planeswalker, but have you lost your mind!? She will be raped and slaughtered out there!" "No, no she won't"

Just then, a scream was heard, and the ground trampled. Freshwater could look over the wall and see the three pikemen circled around the hero, each ready to die, and for what, because someone they looked up to threatened them if they didn't. Just then, a flash of lightning was heard, and the hero broke formation. Lightbringer continued to polish his jewelry, and suddenly, the overcast skies broke, and a beam of unnatural sunlight shined on her.

"You are about to witness the true power of the divine".

The hero, with unparalleled might and speed, charged into the entire force, striking down each Calvary Man and his horse, ten in total, before charging onto Hazezon himself. In response, and to his surprise, Al-Hajjar chanted a prayer and rubbed him emerald. There, Hazezon grew, muscles ripping through his cloaked clothing. The old man, now stood as a brute, towering over the young woman. However, she did have the divine on her side, and the two clashed, one swift blow from each. Hazezon fell, the Runesword glowed, and he had disappeared before he hit the ground. His sand warriors looked at the soldier, and stopped in their tracks, retreating.

'Cowards! You'll burn for this!' yelled Al-Hajjar as they fled. The threat did little to persuade them otherwise. It would appear for a second that the hero was victorious, but the Dervishes flanked over, trampling the woman, and while the Pikemen fought valiantly, they to were bested.

"How dare you! A soldier without a family, fight and kill my legendary warrior! I will have your head on my mantle!" 

"I have only one knight left! Come and take it!" he looked at the Paladin "go down there, and when I say the word, charge him, trust me, just this last time. We are both down to our last spell, he can't possibly have something to win"

The knight skulked down. He was going to die, he was certain, but he would fight. He made a vow to fight evil in this world, no matter it's form. He stepped out of the castle, there he saw the middle pikemen. A young man with blonde hair. He reached up, but then, he was cut of the mortal coil, and his death rattle was heard. "disgusting..." he mumbled to himself. He closed his eyes, he could hear the hooves charge, their foreign tongue yelling at him in cusses he never heard. He thought of those who died around him, the young men, the woman he had grown to enjoy the company of, the foolish prideful planeswalker. He could smell the dry dirt beneath him, and feel the sweet roll down his face. As if time had slowed down for this moment.  Then suddenly, from behind him he heard the words 'HOLY DAY'.

A flash lightened his eyes, and the words, only words he could hear said 'Now Freshwater'. With this, he charged, running straight towards Al-Hajjar with a maddening swing. In a moment, he saw a flash of red, and so did the planeswalker. Blood dripped from his mouth, and he smiled, before realizing what was happening.

It's been said when a planeswalker dies, the multiverse gets revenge. Not for the crimes against reality it had committed, but all the crimes that will be committed because of it as well. The knight took a step back, uncertain how to preceive it. The man slowly was ripped into Æther, each brief second more of him faded, starting with his eyes. The knight could feel any of it, but he knew, it was extremely painful. Slowly the one powerful being broke, piece by piece, into nothingness. It only took a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. With him where the artifacts he had, but the dervishes were left behind, wondering. "You are free now, be gone!" yelled the Paladin, and as such, they left, their fate unknown to even the gods themselves.

"Freshwater, we did it, it was all according to plan" said Lightbringer as he walked into the barren field

"Plan, you knew they were going to die like that!?"

"Why yes, well I didn't anticipate the giant growth, I thought she would be able to die taking them all out, but it all worked out in the end, right?"

"Those were people, they had dreams, hopes, aspirations"

"Hey, you told the pikemen to go out, not me, I just gave her what she wanted, a heroes death, plus it's just a game, you're a man of war, you understand!"

"A game?!" with that, a simple thrust happened, and a second planeswalker died.

"I could... have... given you... anythi...." the walker slumped, as his body started to disappear. With it, the armor Freshwater had been given, along with the cloth underneath it, and the castle behind them. It wasn't nearly as slow this time, and he realized it in real time.

Now he stood alone. The Castle, wasn't entirely a fake, but was a ruins that had been enchanted. The magic made for most of the stuff. The farmstead, the people, none of it appeared to be real. It was all gone. He felt a cold breeze on his back, and he realized, he was alone, and naked. The walkers gifts had gone with him. He entered the ruins, to find his original platemail and clothes sitting on the floor. The armoure was gone. He dressed himself, did some exploring, and certainly enough, found a barrel of gold hidden in the basement. It was impossible for him to possibly take it all. However he burlap bag he had found. He then rested for the knight.

He would spend the next day digging four graves, each body buried with their weapons and their clothes. He didn't know the traditions of the dead of their respective lands, he wasn't even sure were the pikemen had came from. However, they would make the Church of Tal proud. They each got a little wood carved tomb with a simple engraving, as well as a message about what happened here, before he headed north.

It would take him a year, he found a town, used some gold to buy a wagon and two good horses, and went back to collect the rest. He then simply headed north, and in that time, no one dared bother him, and he spoke very little, only when necessary.

When he reached the borders of his land, he was however, met as a hero. Every small town he stopped in, young women swooned over him, people bought him drinks, and asked for stories about the War he went on. It turns out, more then a few people had left after the Armageddon, but spoke highly of the sweet knight, and well, gossip became tall tales, and before you know it, he was larger then life. He was even given a Duchy in the northern lands, with a nobles daughter. He sired several healthy children, and would have a retirement anyone could dream of.

However, he couldn't calm the rage in his heart, and he would often be quick to anger. One night, after an minor incident, he struck his wife, and while that wasn't uncommon, he had realized how far he had fallen. Even old friends were keeping their distance. He was certain he had been cursed, as he remembered seeing red, and went to the local apothecary.

There a samite healer found powerful magic did threaten his soul, but he couldn't possibly heal it. With this new mission, the now Duke Freshwater left everything to his oldest son, kissed his wife goodbye, and vowed to return when his soul was healed. It would be the last time his family would ever see him.

What happened to the noble knight is something for debate. Some stories say he became a blood knight, looking for a never ending challenge he could never find. Other's claimed he joined the paladins of the east, a evil order who believe all life must be extinguished. One romantizied tragic tale says he found a Planeswalker who cured him, in exchange for his service, but that planeswalker died on another world, leaving him trapped there.

However, one other story, and one that has possible proof to it, says he found the hidden island of Madara, and trained in the Tsunami-nito school. This is supported by the report that one day, a nearly naked man of great stature showed up at the school, after proving himself by killing three warriors, he was allowed to join, where they taught him to focus his rage into the way of a new breed of warrior.

What ever happened to Sir Freshwater, they still tell his tales of fighting darkness on every corner of Parma, from campfires, to pub halls, to children bed time stores. His family still lives on as well, each male honing his skills in diplomacy or the blade, to try in an effort of futility to match his greatness.

Memory Lapse: The importance of tempo. (OS 95)

Tempo is one of the most complicated, and interesting strategy tactics in Magic. Basically, it's slowing down your opponent, without actually stopping them. When you tap down a land, that is tempo, when you bounce a permanent, that is tempo.

Memory Lapse, is one of the strongest counterspells in Magic, because how disruptive of a tempo advantage it is. I recently played a 95 mono-blue deck, and made the risky inclusion of a play set in the deck.

I never made a smarter deck building decision in my life. As one player said "I hope to never see a memory lapse again in my life".

My mono-blue tempo deck.

It's board, or as I to call it, fuck red.

However, my evaluation of the card goes back further, to the early days of Modern. You see, there is a card in modern called Remand. It works similarly to Memory Lapse.

Both of these cards are similar to each other. They are both tempo based counterspells, which don't remove the spell entirely, just delay it. The argument I've heard that makes Remand better is it cantrips. However, if I may, Memory Lapse delays a draw, which is much more powerful than drawing a card. A turn 2 Memory Lapse can be almost a mini Time Walk (especially in Old School 95) since not only are they losing the spell they cast, they are losing a draw as well.

In addition to this, it's extremely splashable. Something most counterspells have an issue with in the format.

Sure, it's not Mana Drain, but that one isn't a fair comparison. It's easily comparable to Power Sink and Counterspell though. Plus, playing three of them in a row is a feeling you can't describe. Trust me.

Fun Fact: Originally Memory Lapse was on the 'Meanderings' design sheet, which would become Mirage/Visions. When one of the designers saw the card, he liked it so much he asked politely if he could include it in his set Homelands, which they said yes. So that, is that.

Homelands art is better.

Stasis: Magic's Art Piece

Rare photo of the original piece.

The bane of thousand newbies

"The card Stasis totally blew my mind—I had never seen it before, and I couldn't fathom just how much it neutered my entire deck and style of play. It reduced me to the role of helpless observer within the game; I simply stared at the contents of my hand and waited for death"--Aaron Forsythe, Sol'kanar vs Stasis 6/8/07

While many cards are famous in Magic, few are as notorious, as polarizing, and as infamous as Stasis. The card is easily one of the most well remembered, and one of the most despised cards from the early days of Magic. Everything from it's powerful effect, to it's unusual and distinct art. You either think the csard is one of the best cards ever printed, a gem among diamonds, or you feel it's something that should have never been put to print, and it's existence is everything wrong with MtG. To show this, it's easily one of the most reproduced single pieces of art in the games history (and even has a rule 34). Magic Lampoon wrote an entire article about a 20 year old Stasis lock finally being broken to do growing economic conditions.

Artist unknown

Alters are also somewhat common (done my MJAlters)

One of my first control decks was stasis. It was the early 2000's, and someone at my school built Tolarian Academy. It was hell, with someone else copying an even better deck bought card for card offline, it quickly became an issue of how to beat it. While lementing on it at a store, one of the owners handed me a 4th edition Stasis, and said 'this could do the trick'. I built a deck after buying all the pieces, and after getting a lock down in a 5 player game, the academy player shouted 'that card should be banned'.



So how did this amazing card come into existence, well that is an amazing and interesting story. The card started life by being drawn by Seattle based artist Fay Jones, as a favor to her nephew, some man named Richard Garfield. The card itself was part of a cycle of five cards that were designed the last minute around unused art (Sedge Troll, Birds of Paradise, Island Sanctuary, Stasis, and Word of Command) by Garfield himself. This lack of play testing could attribute to how powerful the card became, however it wouldn't get it's footing for a deck for at least another year, as other cards were required to compliment it.

At the time of release, in '93, Fay Jones was most likely the most famous artist to have her art on a Magic card. Her art has appears in over a 100 solo and group exhibitions, and includes art in the downtown Seattle transit station, Seattle/Portland/Boise/Tacoma art museums respectively.


So what happened to the original piece? Well, over a decade, Ms. Jones simply told people she had given it to a neighborhood kid. Then an article called 'A life of Cards, from Bridge to Magic' was posted on the website Collectorsweekly.com. In it, the writer detailed his brief involvement with Magic, in early 94, and how is son met Ms. Jones and Mr. Garfield, and was given the art as a gift. It still sits their, framed, above his bed.

The art naturally gets a 5/5.

Stasis, did eventually get new art on MTGO, and while a nice piece, isn't nearly as memorable or as iconic as STASIS.

From the start, people wanted to try to make such an unusual, but powerful, card work. After all, a card that skips untap steps is extremely potent. It took some time, but thanks to cards like Winter Orb, Serra Angel, Reset, Yotian Soldier, Kismet, Boomerang, and Time Elemental, the first Stasis Decks were born. While clunky and gimmicky, when they worked, they could be downright impossible to overcome.

"Sure you can borrow my deck"

Then Ice Age came out, and with it, came a simple card called Despotic Scepter. This card allowed it to be tapped to destroy a card its owner owns. This card changed the definition of 'ownership' from a rule perspective, but it also indirectly created one of the most powerful decks of it's day (and one of the most powerful archtypes in Magic), Turbo Stasis. The deck ran a set of Black Vise with Howling Mine, numerous ways to bounce, or destroy your Stasis (including DS up there), and a handful of counterspells and removal, including eventually a playset of Force of Will. Matt Place placed top 8 with a version of this deck in the 1996 Us Nationals.

However this wouldn't be the end for Stasis, it continued to see play in extended, with cards periodically being printed to help the deck along until the early years of the millenium. This included Forsaken City, Chronatog, Gush, Thwart, Orim's Chant, and Isochrone Scepter.

No turn? No problem!

Always have a blue mana

Discussion has come up about using it with Planeswalkers, but lets not discuss this.

Many players hate Stasis, saying it's an unfun deck to match against. It's fine, and requires a litmus test of mechanics. Sure getting locked sucks, but that's the nature of the game.

Stasis is the perfect Johnny card, requiring off the wall thinking. It's like a rubics cube, or a car engine. You need to figure out how the pieces work together, and how to make it run most efficently.

"Unlike Stasis, of course, which made me dislike the guy who played it and wonder if I was in over my head with Magic.'--Aaron Forsythe, Sol'Kanar vs Stasis

Playability 5/5


Flavor: The flavor behind Stasis is one of the most interesting part of the card. Inquest games once said 'what does a coyote and mime have in common? If you said nothing, you are probably correct, but that didn't stop it from appearing on one of Magics earliest power cards'. A long theory among fans of the card, is it's an art piece, and since art is meant to be appreciated by staring at it, that is what the card does. As long as the art piece is their, things grind to a halt, and slow down. While not the best theory, it's an interesting one, and helps get the idea across.

flavor: 5/5


Stasis is the perfect card, from design, to art, to memorabilia. Deal with it.

PS If anyone could get me a playmat of the original art, I'd be very thankful.

Kjeldoran Home Guard: Cards that tell a story.

"Quote here"

Alliances is one of the strangest expansions to look at, from both a design standpoint and a flavor standpoint. While the idea of cards telling a small story within them aren't anything new (cards I can think that do it well from Alpha include Lich and Cyclopean Tomb, with many others including City in a Bottle, The Fallen, Hazezon Tamar..). Story telling is an important aspect to any fantasy game, and if Magic was good at one thing, it was vague story telling. 

However, as if suffering from growing pains, Alliances attempted with many cards, to tell stories to help establish the setting not just in the art and flavor text, but in the cards themselves. Cards like Varchild's War Riders, Rogue Skycaptain, Veteran's Voice, Wandering Mage, and Stromgald Spy just from what comes to mind. They often have strange, somewhat complicated effects, which look out of place, even at the time.

Here we have one of my favorite examples of a card that 'tells a story'. Kjeldoran Home Guard. In this, we get a rather strong and healthy guard (at a 6 toughness). As the war goes on though, people start deserting, and before you know it, the guard is either dead, or is completely desolved. 

Now the deserters are 0/1, (since they assume-ably left their arms behind) , but can still fall into harms way (block), or be inspired (say with crusade) to fight on anyway, just as an individual until.

This card shows the idea that Kjeldoran's days are numbered, as their forces leave and weaken to the changing world that is coming with the thaw. As we know, they eventually merge with the Balduvians, through a marriage between Kjeld, and Lovisa Coldeyes, merging both kingdoms and creating a new society called New Argive. However, this card shows one of many stories on how it got there, and what it took to do so. 

The art is amazing, again, with Andi Rusu. The flag and cloud behind the guard almost makes the painting looks like a coat, and the marks on the side certainly help for that also. 

I wish I could rate this, but without a proper format (no format includes Alliances) it would be impossible to do. Instead, I wanted to talk about a piece of card design, and how mechanics and story can fit side by side. 

The Northern Paladin: A story (part one)

"The land... it's all gone"...said a soldier as he examined the soil, it's dust fell from his hand in a fine manner, it blowing into the breeze. "I have a feeling all is lost..."

"Chin up soldier, the walker still lives, and so do we, so fight". The paladin looked at the three men, pikemen, the oldest one was barely a man, as they stayed in a loose formation. Next to them, a Benalish hero looked over some crudely drawn maps in the ground. Her mood eternally humorless, she didn't participate in the conversation, she knew how bleak the battle had become. He scowled in her direction, reached to his side, and drank from his canteen.


The water felt good going down his throat, and it relieved him, albeit temporary, from the pain of the heat around them. He wasn't use to this warm climate, and it showed. No, he was from the northern country of Parma, which sat high on the altitude of the world. Most of the year was covered in the seasons of cold, which the worst, even the sun refused to come out, casting the world into several days of darkness. After all, with that cold, who could blame it?

His name was Freshwater, after the surname was given to a grandfather of several generations prior. The legend has it that he purified a corrupted lake after a bitter invasion from the dark kingdoms of Wrenna, and the lake bore its name as well. Since then, his entire line had been Paladin's, some with different orders then others, but all paladin's of nobility and good deed.

He sighed and looked over the blasted landscape. Although he knew much more of magic then the men behind him, he knew his knowledge was rather limited. He was taught largely how to defend and destroy black magic, which he was exceptionally well at. He understood their was powers, far beyond what he could even possibly conceive, and that is what just happened.

"We should head back to the castle" he said, and started to walk. The four followed, the soldiers talked among themselves on how good life was going to be when this was over, that they would be heroes, they'd have beautiful women, plentiful lands, and riches beyond their dreams. The hero and knight felt it wasn't best to interrupt them. He had a horse at the start of it, but it perished some time ago. He thought how long has this been going on, and why did he agree to it?


He tried to count the days that its been going on, no it had to be months. It couldn't have been a year already, could it? This was the hard question. The easy question is why. To his knowledge the war started on two fronts, a black Planeswalker who simply was called 'The Dark One' made an alliance with a crazy artificer conquer The Domains, and Richard Lightbringer, the walker he was indebted to, needed a man who could solve an issue he had. You see, the Dark One, according to Lightbringer, had summoned some Angels, allegedly Serra Angel's, which the Dark One responded with vampires of the Clan Sengir.

Now the paladin wasn't a stranger to Sengir vampires, who would sneak into the lands in the dark times. These vampires were different though, the vampires he encountered were little more than savages, feral creatures of the night, with hideous bald visages, with teeth in their hands, and long claws, who had little in the terms of cunning. No, these vampires were different, they were elegant, they were intelligent, and they were far more deadly. Lightbringer claimed they were gifts from Baron Sengir himself, from a land called Ulgrotha. No matter what lexicon Freshwater had checked, what globe he studied, or atlas he opened, he couldn't find anything about a land named 'Ulgrotha'. 'It must be more ancient then recorded history' he thought, after all, what was history to the immortal undead.

He killed both vampires, it wasn't an easy accomplishment, but his magic had helped him greatly, along with two gifts from the Walker, a set of armor that was said to be holy, and a lance, which helped him little now his horse was dead. Still, it could give him range in a pinch, which is nice.

As they approached the castle the draw bridge lowered, and they were let in. It was a small structure, held together by magic, but as real as a stone castle. The soldiers mumbled and headed into the basement, they would sleep in the common area. The knight, and the hero, both had private quarters. The Knight was gifted one for his long service, while it was decided the hero should have one, given she was a chaste female companion.

"Greetings" a booming voice said, on a throne at the end of the hall sat Lightbringer himself, a planeswalker of much renown, for he believed in justice. When Freshwater first met him, he looked more akin to a god as described in the Book of Tal. Long hard, righteous eyes. He remembered the light that radiated off him hurt his eyes, and required him to look away, however, that was some time ago, and the Planeswalker was looking rather weak, well compared to at least.

He sipped from his cup, it was made of Ivory, and legend had it, contained enchantments that allowed for life. Next to him, a massive sword laid onto his chair, called 'Runesword'. The Paladin once got to weild it after the betrayal, and used it to route a whole cavalry. Their skin seemed to melt at its touch, and they faded into dust, to no longer be part of this world. The power terrified him so much, he hoped to never carry it again. He wore a full set of plate, though nothing to flashy about it, and finally a cape with the symbol of his homeland, again, in letters he had never seen before, or since.

"Congratulations men on the victory, the dark one is destroyed, sadly, we still have to deal with the traitor". The five of them looked at each other, then him, before Freshwater spoke 'What was that, that just happened?' 'A terrible spell I'm afraid, he destroyed all the mana on the land, even his own, and with it, life. A terrifying Spell called Armageddon, one I promised never to cast myself'. There was a silence, and then after a sip Lightbringer said 'the good tactical news is, it also destroyed his lands as well, and has doomed Ezekel the mad to his own fate, a tomb trapped by the artifacts he loved. The bad news is, Al-Hajjar of Rabiah has us outnumbered, and there will be no reinforcements. Further more, the food in the castle, is the last food we have, as the farms were destroyed by the spell as well. I have a few tricks up my sleeves, as I'm sure Al-Hajjar had as well. We are to play a defensive game, as he has to come to us, but know this, this is all we have'.

"Now I did prepare a feast, so clean up, and meet in the hall in an hour."

He walked into his quarters, he was given many amenities as part of his agreement to join. A feather bed, a private bath, and an armoire to hand his armor. If even possessed a fireplace, which could be used on particularly cold nights, but had stayed unused for sometime. He looked at the metal barrel in his room, his bath, which had water that flowed directly to it with a well pitcher, which worked by means he didn't entirely understand, but it was a nice convenience, and he wondered if he could convince his conservative countrymen to adopt such a wonderful idea.

He filled the tub with water, and with some flint, light a small fire of hay and kindling under it, slowly but certainly, the water would heat up, and it would make a relaxing sauna, something he had gotten use to in the hot springs of his home. He carefully removed his armor, setting it in the armoire, followed by his cloths. Despite being middle aged, he still possessed a great deal of muscle, with his physique being equal that to a man half his age. His hand fell to his shoulders, which betrayed his age, along with the many scars around his body. His life as a paladin certainly wasn't boring, and he made something of a name for himself, which is probably why he gotten into this mess in the first place.

He slipped into the tub, and went over the events of the war the best he could. From his recollection, Al-Hajjar and Lightbringer originally were allies. Loose allies, but allies none the less, as they fought against Ezekel and the Dark One. The Dark One was originally the strong man, holding off both forces while Ezekel tinkered with his alchemy and mechanics, apparently trying to make some kind of super weapon. Al-Hajjar and Lightbringer brought in holy warriors from their own cultures, Dervishes, who were warrior monks, and white knights, knight errants and lords who's own righteousness kept them from being harmed. A concordant effort against The Mad Artificer reduced his mechanical army to it's minimum, so he got desperate, using powerful, but dangerous artifacts for mana, which is from his understanding, now his tomb. The Dark One meanwhile tried numerous plans to survive, including becoming a dreaded lich, some sort of undead demi-god, which survived the destruction of his own body. It was at this time, Al-Hajjar showed his true colors, and attacked out leader, and killed with a fierce bolt of lightning, the White Knight who guaranteed our victory.

We gave him a proper grave, and since then, it's been a slow war of attrition. They had just came back from finishing off the dark one, which Al-Hajjar making sure Ezekel would be trapped in his tomb, but with a flash, they noticed the land was dead. This couldn't handle on much more. Lightbringer and Al-Hajjar had suffered numerous counter attacks, and now that the ground was gone, their was nothing left but a head on invasion. Yes... the war... would... end soon...

Lore: Searching for the Galgothians

 "So what exactly are the Golgothians?"--My brother

"I don't know...."

--Me

From their earliest educations, the brothers had known that no human contrivance could stand against the true masters of Dominia.

It's actually funny. While talking about hate cards, I mentioned the Sylex, and how I needed one more to own my playset. A conversation came up with the versatility of the card, and how I felt it was underrated, when he asked 'so what exactly are the Golgothians?'

It was honestly something that never really crossed my mind before, but there is literally nothing on what they are.

Now the Sylex itself has a great deal of history behind it, was used by Urza to end the brothers war (in both pre-and post revisionists stories), was used by Ravindel the Battlemage to blackmail the Sages of Minorad into not interfering with his assembly of the Mox Beacon (causing the original Planeswalker war), being destroyed and thrown into the ocean. It is revealed in the current lore Karn is on Dominaria looking for it, so he can use it to blow up Mirrodin. 

Unlike it's two brothers (the Apocalypse Chime, and City in a Bottle), Golgothian Sylex has a great deal of lore behind it. Even post revisionist lore doesn't explain where it came from, just it was found, and it's written text said 'of Golgoth'.

So, to discover who, or what, were Golgoth (or the Golgothians), we must look at what's available on the card. 

My first thought, was to contact Kerstin Kaman, however, I was unfortunately informed of her untimely passing (which explained why she was in one expansion). This leaves me to study the art on it's own. The Sylex appears to have two handles, be made of brass, and has a painting of a man slaughtering another man. While others watch. There on the end are wheels, which have had a long standing religion effect of reincarnation. The Sylex sits on a table. That's everything I can gathering from the art. It tells little, other then it's very old (a brass Sylex would be). A real world reference would be, a Mesopotamian civilization.

Then we must go to the flavor text: "From their earliest educations, the brothers had known that no human contrivance could stand against the true masters of Dominia." We can gather that the Golgothians aren't a person, since it's done in plural. We also know, they were extremely powerful. However, there is one point that might be over looked. That isn't Dominaria, it's Dominia, the archaic word for the Multiverse. Now even in pre-revisionist lore, Urza was a Planeswalker, and this implies that they would be the masters of Dominia, even when factoring the might power of Elder Dragons, Cosmic Horrors, and Planeswalkers. So what are the Golgothians?

A few theories:

1). The beings of Equilor. Equilor was a plane Urza discovered 'on the edge of time'. In it, was a place that was so old, that even the mountains had eroded into light flat services. The beings there seemed to be able to inform him of everything, and told him his discovery of the plane was simply because 'they allowed it'. The being also seemed to take little not of the fact Urza was a Planeswalker, and while Urza wanted to turn it into a mechanical paradise, but was stopped (with much ease) by the locals at every turn. They were human, or at least appeared to be, but were also ageless (they started their search for enlightenment at -100,000 AR). The idea of them being the Golgothians, an extremely powerful group of people, who can make little of Urza Planeswalker, would be the perfect candidate for an answer, however, nothing says they were either. Perhaps the creation of such a destructive force inspired them to look into the enlightenment. 

Eldrazi: The colorless entities of the Blind Eternities (the space between planes). They are extremely powerful, and colorless. However, there is no evidence about them having civilization, or even Magic. 

Ascended beings: The idea of beings basically being gods, not just of planes, but of the multiverse itself, isn't exactly a revolutionary concept. While the 'origin race' of MtG is often cited as the Thran, it's possible that they had an origin race. The Thran, in lore, were an extremely advanced scientific civilization that to compare again to real world sources, would be as old as those ancient civilization in India mythology. Except with ruins littering the planet, along with extremely dangerous relics. This would propose that this would be the 'origin race' of the Thran, and taught the Thran what they know. Since nothing is written about before the Thran (except maybe the Dragon Wars), we can't be certain.

I hope you've enjoyed this little pondering about the Golgothian Sylex, and the lore behind it. Until next time.