Magic Story Archiving: Ob Nixilis: The First World is the Hardest

Originally published on magic.wizards.com on Nov 6th 2014, it has since been removed and lost to time.  Here it is reproduced. 

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When we first met Ob Nixilis, he was a fearsome—but wingless—demon, a former Planeswalker who had somehow become trapped on Zendikar. The next time we saw him on a card, he had regained some portion of his former power when the hedron shard embedded in his head was removed. Despite that, he remains unable to leave Zendikar for the time being, as shown in the Uncharted Realms story "Dreams of the Damned."

But that's Ob Nixilis's present. What about his past? The latest Commander release gives us a glimpse of what he looked like as a human Planeswalker, before he became a demon.

Today, we look even further back, to hear about the life of the man named Ob Nixilis in his own words…

---

To call the noise of battle a roar is to do it an injustice. It is a slight to the majesty of the sound. It is a symphony. The low, bass rumbling of siege engines, the pounding of trebuchet stones, silent in the sky, then crushing formations of men into scrap and paste. The clashing, soaring, screech of steel, men and beasts, monsters and worse, wave after wave of carnage.

Rising above it all, the chorus. Shouts of triumph, of fear, of pain, of rage. Thousands of voices lent to a single cause.

"My lord, our foes are preparing to retreat. Their flanks have collapsed. What are your orders?" My lieutenant bowed low. I couldn't help but notice, with no small amount of disappointment, just how clean his armor was.

"Send two divisions into the canyon, cut off the escape."

He flinched. "That will put two divisions of our most exhausted troops against their freshest. There will be heavy losses."

"And yet, we will secure the supplies we need. Do you know where we are, Lieutenant? Look around you. What do you see?"

He scanned the horizon. "I don't know, sir. A field. Stones. Some ruins."

Buried Ruin | Art by Franz Vohwinkel

"Some ruins, indeed. The people that lived in this place were called the Keocian. Their empire lasted nearly three hundred years, before they brought about the Seventh Cataclysm. They were demon-callers; the best this world had ever seen. Artisans of magic and war. Their language was a direct predecessor of our own, you know, although we adopted our modern alphabet from the Liex. They had a word that meant 'victory at any cost.' Do you know what it was?"

He shook his head.

"Victory. The distinction is for lesser souls than ours." I gestured to my squire, who handed me my helm. I rode out to the front line to join the charge.

---

When the work was done, I looked up at the soot-choked sky. The air was stale and foul, but it felt wondrous as it filled my lungs. Victory tasted sweet, no matter the circumstance.

A scout returned, her armor stained with blood, some of it hers. "Two banners approaching from the northwest, my lord. The Velanti as well as the Raximar."

I frowned. "The Velanti haven't sent word that they were going to be anywhere in the region in force. And the Raximar? How many, and how soon will they arrive?"

"A full legion, cavalry, not equipped for siege. Between their cavalry and the Velanti, we're penned in."

"We are betrayed, then. Interesting." The look of panic on the scout's face made me smile. "We made a move, and Lord Raximar made a better one. I half expected the Velanti to sell us out, but I didn't expect them to pick such an excellent time to do so."

"What do we do?"

"Nothing. If Raximar is willing to negotiate, we talk. If not, we die."

---

Lord Raximar's war tent was a demonstration of everything I hated about the man. It was a mobile court, huge and opulent. Hanging on the walls were tapestries showing accounts of his military conquests. They were factual enough, as Raximar wasn't prone to exaggeration, but the artistry was poor. Why bother to commemorate a moment if you're not willing to spend the time and effort to do it properly? Lord Raximar sat atop an actual throne, wearing his court armor. Plenty of lords did so, of course. Functional to a point, as no sane man or woman would meet another warrior unarmored. But it was a statement of how secure you felt in your home. An arrogant statement, more often than not.

Raximar was an enormous man, bearded and smiling. "Ah, Lord Nixilis. A pleasure to see you again. My apologies for the circumstances."

I had been ushered in to the room unarmed, but they didn't strip me of my armor. No small number of them would have died had they tried. I inclined my head.

He went on. "My compliments on the condition of your forces. Most orderly in surrender. You've trained them well."

"And my compliments on targeting the Velanti as a co-conspirator. Small enough to be coerced, close enough to my command to have valid intelligence, and they made quite the show of loyalty over the years—I never suspected their betrayal."

"Earl Velanti still holds you responsible for the death of his son, you know. That's all this was about."

I laughed. "I should hope he does! I expected the whelp to die, and he did. The boy was a terrible swordsman."

Raximar frowned. "There are those of us who want something better than this, Lord Nixilis. Who want to unify these people. Bring an end to the fighting. Start to build again."

"Spoken like a man who has never studied our history. Yes, there have been times of peace. Decades, even. But then we reveal our true natures again. The larger the alliance, the more brutal the collapse. And when the Cataclysm comes, and it always does, chaos comes with it. Ruin. I like my plan better."

"To rule over graveyards and blood-soaked fields?!"

I grinned.

"No matter. Your days of conquest are done. I will offer you submission, or we can conduct your execution in the morning."

I muttered seven words under my breath. Raximar shook his head as both our ears popped.

"What? I didn't hear that."

I snapped my fingers, and one of Raximar's guards shuddered. The guard took lurching, uneven steps over to me, drew his greatsword, and handed it to me. I snapped my fingers again, and the other six guards in the room all slumped, lifeless, to the floor. The wave of expended magic tasted like hot tar in the back of my throat.

Raximar drew his sword and stood, taking a moment to find his bearings. "What is this? Guards!"

I smiled. "No sound will escape this place for the next several minutes. And your closest guard? I cursed them years ago. Up until this moment, I wasn't sure whether the enchantment would hold this long. Lucky me."

Raximar looked around frantically, and said nothing.

"Here's what's going to happen. You and I are going to engage in a rite of challenge, and then I'm going to take over your forces."

He scoffed. "You've never given a moment's thought to the old codes! Rite of challenge? Ridiculous!"

"You're right, of course. It's nonsense. But you have a reputation as an honorable man. It's the sort of stupid thing you'd do. And either way, I'm going to kill you and tell the rest of your men that that's what happened. So we might as well."

Raximar slammed his helmet down over his bright red face. "You're a coward, Nixilis. If this is how you want to die, so be it."

I stepped into a back stance and leveled the tip of my greatsword at him.

"Begin."

The greatsword is an easily misunderstood weapon. A novice feels the heft and striking power of the weapon, and concludes that it rewards pure force. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is an indescribably complex tool, a lever and a thrusting wedge, and especially against a brute like Raximar, not a big metal club to be swung around as hard as you can.

Greatsword | Art by Nic Klein

Raximar was bigger, faster, and younger. He could practically use his blade one-handed, and the sheer crushing force he could generate could shatter stone and bone alike. So I let him come to me. He opened with a series of huge, reaching, diagonal cuts, and I kept my distance, just at the edge of his reach. I kept my balance low, trying to avoid the need to actually parry one of his strikes. A hard parry is as good as getting hit. He took a giant lateral cut, and I stepped in to meet it. As the cut approached, I flipped the sword upward from beneath, redirecting the attack high over my head. It left me in position to deliver a crushing shot to Raximar's right hip; despite his armor, I knew I had damaged bone. He flinched hard, but to his credit, he stayed upright.

But it was irrelevant. A wound like that limited his mobility, and against an opponent who was willing to fight patiently, that meant the fight was over. I wore him down over the next two minutes, delivering a glancing shot to his shoulder, then a swift cut to the left knee. He stumbled with a desperate strike, and I slammed my sword upward into his wrists, breaking both and sending the sword flying.

Raximar dropped to his knees, barely able to hold his body off the floor. He was panting, desperate for air, desperate for a way out. I rammed the sword down on the back of his neck, and it was done.

---

Things fell apart very quickly after that.

The Raximar troops, for some reason, doubted my version of events. I fought my way back to my troops, but all of my men had stood down awaiting the outcome of my negotiations. Some of those loyal to me helped me break out of the Raximar camp, but it was clear we were going to be hunted down a second time, this time with less ceremony than the first.

I fled into the hills and ruins.

We fought a series of skirmishes as we retreated. Most of my troops chose to surrender rather than die. I'm impressed that any were fool enough to lay down their lives for me, in retrospect. We ran, and we ran, fewer and fewer, until at last, just three of us remained to hole up in a cave. It ran deep, and we could hear water. We sealed the entrance. This would be the end of us, but we could do it on our terms.

"We should go down fighting," offered a captain who had stayed with me to the end. I couldn't remember her name, but this seemed the wrong time to bring that up. "They'll have to pay for my life in kind."

The second man, a common soldier, sat and sobbed. "It doesn't matter. Dead is dead. And we're dead. We're dead."

But my eyes were drawn to the cave walls. "Do these look like worked stone to you?"

My companions didn't seem to hear me. But I was right. The cave floor had certainly been smoothed, and the walls were too even to be natural. I willed a small light into existence, and walked deeper into the darkness.

It took me some time to clear a collapsed tunnel, but on the other side was a small chamber. I recognized it immediately from my research. It was a Keocian summoning chamber, and it was entirely intact.

---

Without my reference materials, the inscriptions took some time to decipher, but the crux of it was simple enough. Two pedestals, each with a large obsidian bowl. You fill each bowl with blood, and you place one hand in each. From there, the chamber would do the rest. And I just happened to have two lives with me to fill the bowls.

Covenant of Blood | Art by Seb McKinnon

My companions got their wishes. One got to die fighting. The other died a meaningless death. I filled the two stone bowls with their lifeblood, and when I was done, you couldn't tell which had been which.

The rest of the ritual was laughably easy. Beings of power want to be called. They want to serve their purpose. I'm sure I made a mistake or two in pronunciation, but it didn't matter in the slightest. The doors that held back the beings I invoked were thin, and as I pulled them open, they pushed from the other side. A child could have done it. They wanted to come.

I felt them in my mind. They searched it roughly for my desires. I tried to direct them, to focus them on the problem at hand, to clear away the forces that penned me in. But they knew better. They knew what I really wanted. They did as I asked.

They ended the world.

The process was completely mundane. No howling winds, no eruptions of fire and blood, no scouring of the land by ravenous winged things. It just ended. Every living soul just fell down and died. From those digging through the cave-in to reach me, to a farmer on a far-off continent. They simply died. All of them.

Except for me.

I walked the scoured landscape for days to be sure. Encampments filled with rotting meat. Fortifications manned by corpses alone. On the tenth day, I noticed the creature shadowing me. That night, it joined me by my fire.

He took on my form, down to the smallest detail, but his voice was like a void.

"Congratulations, Lord Nixilis. You have done it. You brought peace to this world."

"Peace. Yes, I suppose I have."

"The Eighth and final Cataclysm. You played your part well."

"Centuries of war. Possibly millennia. For this?"

"Worlds are made and broken as toys for greater beings than us. We were made to deliver a prize and a price."

I smiled. "Here sits Ob Nixilis, sole survivor of a world that only knew war, is that it? Very well. It's a better fate than the rest of them got." I pulled a flask of water from my pack. "Here's to me, then."

I took a swig, and looked around. I was completely alone.

Ob Nixilis of the Black Oath | Art by Daarken

The absurdity of it all washed over me like a wave. A lifetime of scrambling for power and control, when all the while I had been dancing on another's stage. All my ambition, all my desire, all my study and toil and pain. All of it for nothing. It was the end of the world. It was what I had always wanted. It was a trap set for me, thousands of years before my birth.

I laughed until I choked. I fell to the ground, hands and knees, weeping and gasping. The end of the world.

It went very dark.

When I opened my eyes again, I looked upon a new world.

It fell much more easily than the first.

 

Magi-Nation Duel 2022 Updates Part 2

 Our online Magi-Nation Duel Community continues, with newly created fan items, videos, and designs!  Check it out below!  Here's the second part of 2022, with a lot of fan content and new videos!  We've even got a history post and interview with Josh Lytle below!  You can read the first update from 2021 here.

No tournaments in this part of the year, but we're hopeful for 2023!!

 

 Fan Content and Discussion

User MagiMutt had custom Magi commissioned from Rich Werner, and had them created into cards and frames! We published the article featuring their making here: https://changevoyage.blogspot.com/2022/11/universal-moonlands-magi-custom-set.html

 Can you guess what they are each based on??  

You can acquire them from MagiMutt by contacting him on the discord! 

 

A fan created Magi-Nation Stickers on Red Bubble!  Check them out!  

https://www.redbubble.com/i/sticker/Gotta-Korrit-by-HyperLiteScizor/103304917.EJUG5

https://www.redbubble.com/i/sticker/Orish-Isn-t-Awkward-by-HyperLiteScizor/103304134.EJUG5

https://www.redbubble.com/i/sticker/Feelin-Furoktious-by-HyperLiteScizor/103303186.EJUG5

 

  User Varga Wasperine made new regional pins!  Check out how they look!

You can purchase those still left from the stores that they run! 

Static Claws website

https://staticclaws.square.site/product/magi-nation-region-pins/945 

Etsy

https://www.etsy.com/.../1309740587/magi-nation-region-pins

User BenR created Lego Magi and creatures!  Much like the past Lego concepts from user Demosthenes, which you can see in the 2021 Part 1 Community update!

Core!  Warrada and a Chaos Jile

Kybar's teeth and Core together!

A close up of the Kybar's lego!

Tryn from Base set!

Found Relics from the Vault of Knowledge

 A user, Magnuscalgar, showed off the Holmberg sketch drawn for them waaay back when on their playmat!

 

 

Videos

User LynnThalas has found all sort of original packs, and did a pack opening!

LynnThalas then also opened a Voice of the Storms Booster box! Check out the box topper!  We forgot those even existed!!

Another user opened a full Awakening expansion booster box!

Josh Lytle, one of the original designers, went onto this podcast video series "The Booster Pack" to talk about his game design with Magi-Nation Duel and history! 

Another user opened a full Voice of the Storms starter box!  And their box had a misprint, with most starters having almost all rares in the random card slots!!

As always, we're happy the community is active, and loving this 20 year old card game!  Please send us updates, and we'd love to hear from your playgroup or in-person Magi-Nation community as well!  

Universal Moonlands Magi (custom set!)

 by MagiMutt

For as long as I can remember, I have always had a fascination with Universal Studios monster
movies. From Dracula to the Phantom, from Frankenstein to The Creature from the Black Lagoon, there
was just something about these characters that I fell in love with.

Fast forward to 2006, after the “hiatus” of Magi-Nation when several notable of 2Is’ founding
members went on to release The Spoils. Somehow, I got involved in ideas of a promo set to be released
for the game and thus the first five characters came into fruition: High Priest Imhotep, Count Mau, Mr.
Talbot, Fr4nk31f573in'5 Majig, and Eucritta Melanolimnetes. Based on the Universal Monsters, these
cards had VERY minor input from myself, simply stating their source and offering names.

Having such a minuscule input into the cards, I decided to not have my name included in any
acknowledgements of these cards. A second set of characters was suggested, but the team had decided
to move on from the Universal Monsters idea by then. The Spoils went into hibernation. It is still played
in select groups and the community is still active.

Still, my ‘obsession’ continued and when Rich Werner opened commissions in 2019 for custom
artwork, I jumped at the chance. It started with a simple idea:
 There are 13 regions in Magi-Nation Duel. There are at least 13 notable characters from Universal
Studios. How should they merge together. The first was easy: Dracula appeared in tombs, castles, and
the classic gothic scenery. He kept a coffin of dirt underground. The Magi based on Dracula would
naturally be from the Underneath.

Going by this logic, I presented Rich with the idea of Magi based on Universal Studios Monsters in the
following combinations:
Underneath-----Dracula
Arderial-----Phantom of the Opera
Naroom-----Frankenstein’s Monster (Adam)
Weave-----The Mummy
Orothe-----Creature from the Black Lagoon
Core-----Bride of Frankenstein
Paradwyn-----The Invisible Man
Cald-----Dr. Jeykll
Nar-----Mr. Hyde
Universal-----Van Helsing
d’Resh-----Scorpion King
Bograth-----Hunchback of Notre Dame
Kybar’s Teeth-----The Wolf Man
Alternates Universal-----Alucard

He seemed to like the idea of something different and started working on my ideas (while also finishing
up work for “Dungeon Party.”
While Widget had created suitable frames for the game, and I got an official artist to work on artwork, my
card idea needed...well, ideas. So, I turned to the fanbase and got input from several members of the
community.

Artimillies Strongbow, Zucriy Amsuna, nol_bricks, drakk2 and several others shared ideas that were
included in the final designs of the Universal Moonlands promo set. To be clear, while I had some general
ideas about what each Magi did, I had zero experience in keeping balance with my initial designs. They
were...passable at best. Most credit for the Powers and abilities of the characters comes from
community-based input.

I will, however, take full credit for the names and flavor text of these cards. I used several movies and other sources in naming characters. Between actors and writers, most of the cards came up relatively easy to name.

 

The eventual design for the Underneath Magi included my son’s idea for a Wolf/Bat creature. This would
be cropped out in the Magi card, to be included in a later card. The name I settled on was Bela Zaro.
Using the actors name (Bela Lugosi) and a vampire character from Ravenloft (Strahd von Zarovich), made
it simple.

Although sometimes the original idea didn’t QUITE convey what I wanted, Rich was able to take input
from me about the characters designs. Case in point: the Monster was suggested to be a “...big
lumbering oaf. "He lost his last fight with a Core Magi, but he's just too stubborn to admit it" (the
monsters mate is a core magi in this set).

Got it mostly right in one shot, but there’s nothing in this picture to suggest a mate. So we had a
conversation:

    Me: Can you do more Lurch, less Hanna Barbara? Also, to tie into the Bride, he needs to be
holding a rose. She's already broken his heart, and the rose is what he remembers her by.

    RW: Yeah. I am trying to keep the MND feel. I’ll give another pass.

    Me: Rather be closer to the empty headed football player that just lost the head cheerleader to
the nerd.

And thus, Adam Carloff was created. Adam being a term usually suggesting the creature and Carloff
based on the actor's name (Boris Karloff).
I used quotes from the books or the movies for flavor text. Most are easy to follow, but one I screwed
up on. I used a movie quote that references the character but there’s zero context for it.
It also happened to happen on a card that has the most obscure way to name a character I’ve seen:

 
All of this to say that my first incursion into custom cards was kind of successful in that MY designs were
done, MY way, with help from several other people to show off something that could be used in the
game.

But HOW can they be used in games, you ask? Simple. I had custom cards made:

 
LEGALIZE: I am in no any shape or form affiliated with 2i or any company or person connected to 2i. I paid an artist (formerly of 2i) to create artwork for my personal designs for cards. I (with input from others) completed a set of characters that can be used within the rules of a particular card game. These cards are not legal in any way and are not officially recognized as part of the card game.

I have a limited supply of sets of these “Universal Moonlands” Magi. In fact, I have only 47 sets left.

They are available, through me, until I’m sold out. Each sealed set will run $10. You get all 13 Magi.
Want a set? Send me a message! (u/MagiMutt on the Magi Nation Discord!)

Dominiara - Compiling Lore and Ages

Dominaria was once the hub of the multiverse, and is still easily the largest plane in Magic: the Gathering's multiverse.  It has multiple continents and covered in various biomes, battles, and climates in various expansions.  Here we are working to compile various elements of the story and lore, to assist newcomer planeswalkers to Dominaria.  

Dominaria's Maps: 

History of Dominaria: this five part article series covers the maps, history of major events, and world changes of Dominaria, including the very popular series of the Weatherlight Saga. 

Part 1: Quick History,

Part 2: Maps and Locations, 

Part 3: World Changes,  

Part 4: The Weatherlight Saga,  

Part 5: Terisiare

Expansions and their continents: 

The majority of the original magic sets on Dominaria took place on two continents: Terisiare and Aerona.  You can find places like Argive, (formerly Kjeldor/Balduvia), Yavimaya, and Lat-Nam on Terisiare, and on Aerona: Benalia, Llanowar, Keld, Verdura, Tolaria West, The Spice Isles, and sometimes included: Bogarden and Urborg (though they're usually considered part of The Burning Isles).   

Antiquities took place on Terisiare, highlighting the Brother's War between Urza and Mishra.

The Dark took place on Terisiare, showing the decline of civilization with a cooling climate. 

Fallen Empires, a set from 1994, took place on a small eastern continent: Sarpadia, covering the fall of 5 kingdoms to decay, climate change, and being overrun by enemy factions.  

Ice Age (Block: Ice Age, Alliances, Coldsnap) took place in Terisiare, for the years of the ice age after The Antiquities War. 

The Mirage Block (Mirage, Visions, Weatherlight) took place on the central continent of Jamuraa.  Jamuraa's three main city states, Femerf, Suq'Ata, Corondor, and the lost Zhalfir, all are here. 
The expansion Prophesy also took place in Jamuraa, with an invasion by Keldons.  

The novels of Jedit Ojanen took place on a variety of continents, but mainly on Jamuraa, Legends I Trilogy.

Portal Second Age took place on a southern continent of Caliman.

Tetsuo Umezawa and the Nicol Bolas novels took place on Madara, a small island continent to the Southwest of Jamuraa.  This took place in the Legends II trilogy novels. 

Much of the Urza's Saga block (Urza's Saga, Urza's Legacy, Urza's Destiny) took place on various continents (and other planes!), but the features were Shiv (central northern continent), Yavimaya, Urborg, and Tolaria (the original, now sunken).  There were some historical elements of the block, even showing the forest of Argoth before the Sylex explosion in the Brother's War.  

Prophesy took place on Jamuraa, with the Keldons Invading just before the Phyrexian invasion.  

Invasion block (Invasion, Planeshift, Apocalypse) took place across all of Dominaria, with the Phyrexians using portals, a Rath Planar overlay, and a full invasiion of the plane. 

Odyssey block (Odyssey, Torment, Judgement) took place on the continent of Otaria to the southeast of Terisiare.  It followed the path of the Mirari and Kamahl's journey.  

Onslaught block (Onslaught, Legions, Scourge) continued the Otaria story, with more Mirari troubles and the coming of Karona

Time Spiral block (Time Spiral, Planar Chaos, Future Sight) took place across Dominaria once more, with the Rift era almost tearing the Dominaria and the multiverse apart.  The mending solved and changed the challenge of planeswalkers. 

Dominaria (2018) took place on various continents, showing Benalia, Llanowar, Urborg, Suq'Ata, Femeref, Vodalia, and Yavimaya.  

Now, in 2022: Dominaria United showcases many of these same locations, but adds Argive and Keld, with nod to Caliman, Versuva, and reprinted and reimagined legends from previous eras! 

Ancient History

Prerevisionist lore had a lot of differences in the world of Dominaria - from planar gates to different types of planeswalkers.  Much of the lore was recorded online here and there, and we've compiled some of it for you.  

Coldsnap's last stand of the Ice Age lore.  

Caliman and the second age of Portal

Planar Gates and travelers

Prerevisionist Encyclopedia Dominia (former name of the Multiverse)

Taysir's Journals and A-D

Encyclopedia sections E-Z 

Early Volumes I 

Early Volumes II - History of Benalia

Early Volumes III - The Interrogation and the Eater of the Infinite

Histories and Fables: - Ambassador's Tale, Bigasdat's Escape

Histories and Fables - 'The Enemy of My Enemy', and 'Dying Breath'

Histories and Fables - Return of the Empress, Scalebane's Elite, and Still Waters Deep Roots

The Brother's War Lore and Art compilation

 Welcome back to the past!  The Brother's War expansion features the events on Dominaria that led up to the main Magic story,  from Urza and Mishra's past to how our modern planeswalkers are meddling with time to learn the answers to stopping Phyrexia, again.  

 

Story of the set, The Brother's War

Main Story (of the past): 22AR - 69 AR.  For those that don't know, AR stands for Argivian Reckoning, measuring the start of the 'modern' era of time with the year of Urza's birth.  Urza was therefore born in year 0, and Mishra in year 1.  Urza and Mishra's final confrontation and the Sylex blast was in 63 AR.  Current magic story is in the year 4562 AR. 

Much of this story shows the aftermath of the Brother's War, and stories to the side or around the Novel, The Brother's War by Jeff Grubb. 

1. The End  69 AR

2. The Beginning 69 AR - 85 AR

3. Sword One 28 AR

4. The Ink of Empires 44 AR

5. As Cruel As Necessary 22 AR | 44 AR | 63 AR | 69 AR | 4562 AR

Side Stories

The side stories are set in present day, 4562 AR, with Teferi and the other modern walkers building the plan to determine how the Golgothian Sylex is used to explode.  Teferi uses a device invented by Saheeli to visit the past times as a ghost. 

1. Stronghold 

2. Antiquities 

3. Nemesis 

4. The Dark 

5. Exodus

Synopsis

Teferi, Kaya, and Saheeli have worked with Jodah to take up residence in Urza's Tower to build a time machine, to send Teferi's spirit back in time, using Kaya's ghostform ability, the Moonsilver Key, schematics from the Tolarian Academy, and Saheeli's artifice.  The side stories cover their other friends' efforts to protect the tower from Phyrexian attack while they go back in time to learn how Urza activated the Golgothian Sylex to blow up Terisiare, so they can use it on New Phyrexia.  

The main story tells the sides stories and aftermath of the novel: The Brother's War by Jeff Grubb.  Kayla bin Kroog's leading and migration away from the cold.  The rise of the church of Tal.  Stories 3 and 4 tell of tales of battle and soldiers within the Brother's War itself.  

Meanwhile, we learn of Tezzeret's motivations of helping New Phyrexia, to acquire a new Darksteel body, and delivers Karn to Elesh Norn.  He learns they have no intention of actually fulfilling their bargin, but that it was also Tezzeret sending information to Jace about Urabrask and Koth's rebellion, connecting Vivien to Urabrask on New Capenna, hiring Kaya to hunt Vorinclex, while still 'serving' Norn.  The Phyrexian attack on the tower requires Elspeth and Jodah to use most of their magic, and Chandra, Nissa, and Wrenn and Seven barely hold off the attack.  They find that the time machine is damaged however, and Teferi's spirit is lost in time.  All their other planeswalker allies arrive, for their strike attack on New Phyrexia, coordinating with others to protect their homeplanes from the Realmbreaker invasion (The world tree seed/material was stolen by Vorinclex).  Teferi had sent himself back to 63 AR, right at the moment of the Sylex blast, and spoke to Urza as he was forming into his planeswalker form after the blast.  Teferi learned what was needed, but the damaged time machine still left him lost on a beach, in unknown shores. 

Videos and Art

Art imgur compilation: from the world building video.  https://imgur.com/a/euqEBo4

Cinematic first look (Nissa and... Ajani?) The Dawn of the Multiversal Phyrexian Invasion!

World building video:

In Tokyo - There was a pop-up set up for a Cafe for Brother's War!  Players could try out the game and experience the set! 

Encyclopedia Dominia: Histories and Fables - 'The Enemy of My Enemy', and 'Dying Breath'

  The Encyclopedia Domnia had various stories, lore, and information of the worlds of the multiverse.  Here we're restoring some of the online duelist's tales.  The Encyclopedia was gathered by the planeswalker Taysir, here is the section of "Histories and Fables" with stories: The Enemy of my Enemy, and Dying Breath. We are continuing our reproducing of them: they are not original content, but created by Wizards of the Coast for the Online Duelist in the 1990s. 

 

The Enemy of My Enemy

by Christopher R. Wilkes

Across the bay, the distant flare of Lucassa's Lighthouse burned in the soft night, throwing myriad sparks upon the waves. It shone with a friendly yellow light, beckoning wayfarers and their ships to the safety of the Orvadian trading town.

Yet of the group aboard the dhow, only the Orvadian fisherman Tarin gazed across the water to the lights of Lucassa. The rest watched the dark water itself as it slid by, or listened to the waves and the sigh of the breeze, alert for any changes that might signal the arrival of newcomers. Tarin sat tiredly at the stern of his boat, alone at the steering oar, hoping the merfolk would make their presence known soon. He was a leathery nub of a man, eroded by sun, wind, sea, and time. His passengers frightened him, and he rued giving in to the temptation of gold the merman had promised.

"Surprised" had not quite described Tarin's feelings a week ago when a merman heaved himself into the dhow. Merfolk had grown rare and unfriendly since the Empress of ancient Vodalia had returned and ruined the trade between her people and the Orvadians. She curtailed commerce between the two peoples and heavily taxed what little trade remained. Business and personal relationships became strained and difficult to maintain, and blood had spilled more than once between man and merfolk since then. Tarin's first thought upon the merman's bizarre introduction had been to grab up his gaff, but the dull thud of a heavy gold coin on the wood between them stayed his hand.

That one gleaming coin was more money than Tarin had seen in three years, and the merman promised nine more if Tarin would only bring certain people from Lucassa to a meeting spot on the water. Tarin had thought about life in Orvada during the dry days of the Empress, of the dull ache in his bones in the morning, of the tired, beaten look his wife always wore, and of how easily the last years of their lives would pass with that gold hidden in the hollow under the hearth. He had not thought about sharing a dark journey with a wild-haired Urborg War Mage, a hulking, tattooed Kukemssan privateer captain, or a dark-cloaked and cowled figure that hadn't left footprints in the soft beach sand. What would they do to him if the merman did not come? Tarin peered again at the lights of Lucassa and wished he was there, sharing friendly warmth, cheer, and ale inside the weathered walls of a tavern.

It was the Kukemssan who first noticed the merfolk, their heads and torsos breaking the waves near the small rock outcrop Tarin had been told to steer for. A gesture brought the others to his side. As Tarin reefed the sail and dropped a sea anchor, he glanced curiously at the pair in the water. It was obvious which of the two was the leader. Moonlight jeweled from the beads of water that slid down his heavily-muscled torso and glinted from his long-bladed spear. He was larger than even the big Kukemssan, and his chest was banded with strange markings. His voice was deep, full and melodious. Although his tone was formal and studied, he spoke with assurance and a note of command.

"I greet you, in the name of the citizens of Etlan-Shiis. I am Aheeraq, chosen successor to the High Councilor of Etlan-Shiis. I thank you for meeting with me tonight."

The War Mage had a rusty voice, as if he had too often roared orders over the clangor of battle. "I am Isonidas of Urborg, Mage and War Captain." He motioned to the Kukemssan and the tall, motionless figure of the other mage. "My companions are Jelamau, Captain of the Kukemssan privateer Wave Splitter," a hint of scorn had come into his tone, but it evaporated into neutral sobriety as he continued, "and Khausiss, a priest of the Breathstealers. We are interested in the rich rewards you hinted at, but we have heard little of your people since the coming of your Empress during my grandfather's days. From your markings I see you are not of her court. What would you have us do?"

Tarin had shrunk further back into the stern at the realization that he was in the presence of a Breathstealer; he thought that even Jelamau had paled a bit as Isonidas said the word. Tarin's uncle had told a tale years ago of the Breathstealers: dark and evil no-longer-men who stole the life from others in order to live forever. If Aheeraq had heard this tale, it did not outwardly trouble him. He gestured to his companion who reached in to place a dark silken cloth on the dhow's middle bench. Unfolded, it cushioned thick gold coins, pale in the moonlight, around which lay lambent pearls and diamonds glowing with moon-fire. Jelamau licked his lips as he stared at the baubles and Isonidas smiled at the sight. Khausiss seemed to take no notice, standing unmoving and mute as Aheeraq replied.

"The riches are real, and this is but a paltry sample. Since fleeing the Homarids and the fall of Vodalia, we have watched hundreds of treasure ships crewed by scores of different races founder and sink. Their cargoes are of little interest to us, but they might appeal to you. Riches that you can only imagine, but the task we require in return is also of great magnitude." His voice took on an icy resonance. "I will see my people freed from their slavery. We will break the ancient castes once and for all and She who commanded the destruction of the High Council will meet with the doom that should have befallen Her three thousand years ago!"

In the sudden quiet following Aheeraq's angry outburst, Jelamau dropped to one knee and stirred the glittering wealth with a callused forefinger. "Consider your problems solved, oh soon-to-be ruler of the deeps." His eyes were fixed on the jewels and there was a hunger to his tone that made Tarin long once more for the safety of the tavern. "Even if the others here won't help, I know those who will." He swirled diamonds around with his finger and said softly, "Gladly . . . ." Isonidas tore his eyes from the mesmerizing contents of the black cloth, glared suspiciously at Jelamau, and then locked his gaze on Aheeraq. "Tell me, Councilor: why do you need outside help? Are you not the one who truly commands the hearts and spears of your people? How can a handful of ancient relics bring a powerful civilization to its knees?"

Aheeraq stared steadily back at him. "They may be few, but the power of their magic is immense. We fight them at every turn yes, but without hope, for we have no power comparable to theirs. Our magic could let you breathe in our waters, sustain and warm you, but it cannot blast living coral apart, nor freeze the very sea in our enemies' veins. Sadly, their power has cowed those who lack courage, and attracted many who seek power themselves. Their army is numerous." He paused, doubt evident in his eyes. "Thus I come to you now, while we are still strong enough to benefit from outside aid. I ask that you wield your power and skills to battle and destroy the Royal Mages of ancient Vodalia." He looked steadily at each of the warriors in turn for a long silent moment. Tarin was relieved not to be noticed. Aheeraq finished in ringing tones, "Do you have the power, the strength, and the willingness to do this? In return I will provide you with a thousand times what I have shown you here." Jelamau started to reply, but Isonidas cut him off with a roar of laughter. His hair flew wildly, though there was no wind, and blue fire leapt from finger to finger, dripping to hiss and sputter on the damp deck at his feet. "I fear no water Mages. I have fire enough to boil the seas around them. None shall-" he stopped, his speech cut short by a bubbling scream.

Tarin had seen the Dark Priest throw his cowl back to reveal a near-fleshless face with burning green eyes. Skeletal arms stretched up to the sky, and glimmering filaments of night itself tore free and plunged down at the priest's command, sliding with a furious hiss into the sea. At a gesture, a huge black net rose steaming out of the dark water, a screaming merman enmeshed within. Patterns of bright color shifted across his skin where it wasn't charred by the touch of the web, and he writhed and howled in horrible pain. Then, with the abrupt closing of Khausiss' hands, the net contracted into nothing, leaving bloody bits of strained merman to patter back down into the sea. Even Aheeraq seemed stunned as silence returned.

The Breathstealer turned to him, and with a voice of dust and shadows said, "Be more watchful for spies in the future. They could be . . . inconvenient." It seemed to Tarin that his eyes flicked towards Isonidas. He continued, "I, at least, will undertake your commission. I foresee no insurmountable difficulties . . ." He stretched thin lips in a rictus smile and slid his cowl back up. The green eyes glowed from within and the tomb-like voice dropped to a bare whisper, ". . . sire." Isonidas looked at his erstwhile companion speculatively, but no one spoke for a moment. Aheeraq looked at them with troubled eyes. "I will meet you three, with your men and ships, here in five nights." The other merman tossed a small heavy purse at Tarin who was cowering in the stern. Then the two merfolk sank into the sea, leaving the dhow rocking gently and the treasure still bright on the cloth. Jelamau bundled it up while Isonidas looked back at the darker swirling water where the spy had died. Tarin got up slowly, pulled in the sea anchor, and began to raise the sail. A fog had begun to roll in, and the light from Lucassa's Lighthouse was further obscured by the mist and the haze that lingered from the Breathstealer's magic. Tarin glanced down at the small purse that lay at his feet, but made no effort to claim it. With these men aboard he would need to go carefully if he ever wanted to spend what he had earned. He concentrated on thinking like a sailor, on getting the dhow back to the dock.

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Dying Breath

By Teeuwynn

The following brief tale gives some insight into the elusive world of the assassin cult known as the Breathstealers. It is notoriously difficult to gain information about these silent killers, and it is certainly unusual for a Breathstealer to record his deeds. However, although we cannot be certain about the veracity of the exact details of this story, Suq'Atan history documents the results of the assassin's mission. -- Taysir

Third Day, Fifth Month.

Today I heard a mother whisper to her child that if he would not hold his tongue in the market then a Breathstealer would come in the night and steal his breath. In the morning the mother would have to wail for her child's spirit, stolen along with her child's life. What a story to tell a babe! But perhaps the young mother thinks the Breathstealers are merely fantasies to frighten children into behaving. I fear she is wrong.

-- Qhattib, Vizier of Amiqat

Two Days before the Slumber of the Bright Moon.

My mother named me Hilel because I was born at the very moment the Bright Moon turned its face away from us for the month. I have always been most comfortable in darkness. Even before I was stolen by the Breathstealers. When you become a Breathstealer you must face the ending of one life in order to begin your new one. I can still feel the breath leave my protesting lips, the air turn stale in my lungs, the hazy burning away of the conscious mind before awakening again to utter night. Last night I was awarded my first chance to gift a soul with shadow. I am honored to have been chosen for a mission of such importance. I must prepare. In two days I shall eat the breath of the living.

-- Hilel, Breathstealer

Fourth Day, Fifth Month.

I awoke this morning in a cold sweat. I dreamed the Pasha was assassinated and, when the other advisors turned to me for guidance in this time of crisis, I had no wisdom to give. The Pasha is not a man of profound wisdom, but he is an icon to our people and icons are of increasing value in these desperate times. This is the second time I have dreamed of death this month. I fear for the Suq'Ata nation. Kaervek's armies may only walk the land now in little more than memory, but I feel more certain than ever that the Breathstealers are real, and that they breed like a virus in the close darkness of our city streets.

-- Qhattib, Vizier of Amiqat

One Day before the Slumber of the Bright Moon.

I have watched my prey for a full day and a night now, and I believe my path is becoming clear. If I can maintain the patience of death I shall surely succeed in stealing the breath from perhaps the most important man in all of the Suq'Atan empire. When he closes his eyes tonight, I shall close mine. Our breath shall be as one. I will dream his dreams. Our spirits will ride the night winds together. When the next night comes and I enter his chambers, his spirit will welcome me as a brother. I sleep in the arms of the Spirit of the Night.

-- Hilel, Breathstealer

Fifth Day, Fifth Month.

I dreamed again of the Pasha's death. Only this time my tongue did not desert me. No, in this dream I spoke passionately of how our brave land must hold another man who could lead our people in honor and wisdom. I am ashamed to admit I even spoke ill of our Pasha in my dream. It is not his fault that his wisdom is that of the cheetah and not of the lion. I must pay special tribute to the Pasha in my prayers this night.

Has our land won its freedom from Kaervek's aggressive suit only to be losing itself to the wiles of a far more cunning foe? I wish the gods would grant me wisdom in this matter, but I fear in the past few days I see better sleeping than awake. I fear for our nation. If the Breathstealer assassins or another, unknown enemy should take the Pasha's life, the Council would almost certainly choose Telim'Tor as our new Pasha. Although Telim'Tor's words feed those hungry for a powerful protector, the loaf of his knowledge is unleavened by wisdom of any kind. The Suq'Ata might do better to have a child lead us. At least a child's gullibility is expected.

I shall pray for the Suq'Ata as well as the Pasha. And on the morrow I shall talk to the Pasha of my fears...for him, for our land, and my concerns about Telim'Tor. I am certain I can get our leader to allow me leave to investigate these Breathstealers. Yes, I am certain now that they are the real danger to our land.

May the gods' eyes be as blind as a mother's to her children's imperfections.

-- Qhattib, Vizier of Amiqat

The Slumber of the Bright Moon.

This night have I granted the Dying Breath for the first time. It is true that you can feel the spirit slipping its mortal tethers. We are indeed celestial beings. Last night as I walked the path of dreams with my brother, Qhattib, I could feel his fear of my kind. And I could feel his worries about Telim'Tor. What well-founded concern! Telim'Tor will one day soon, Spirit willing, grace the throne of the Suq'Ata...and his mind is as easy to bend as summer grass. Yes, my new brother had reason to fear. Tonight he breathes no more and we are safe from the brilliant light of his wisdom. Qhattib's mind was as a sun in Suq'Ata, and we prefer the darkness.

-- Hilel, Breathstealer

 

 

Encyclopedia Dominia: Histories and Fables - Ambassador's Tale, Bigasdat's Escape

 The Encyclopedia Domnia had various stories, lore, and information of the worlds of the multiverse.  Here we're restoring some of the online duelist's tales.  The Encyclopedia was gathered by the planeswalker Taysir, here is the section of "Histories and Fables" with stories: Ambassador's Tale, Bigasdat's Escape.  We are continuing our reproducing of them: they are not original content, but created by Wizards of the Coast for the Online Duelist in the 1990s.  

 

The Ambassador's Journal

The following account was composed by a Shanodin dryad living in the Llanowar forest. The Llanowar and Shanodin peoples share a deep respect and connection despite the tremendous distance (several thousand miles) between their forests. The dryad, Sythia, did not record this story on paper, as most cultures do. Instead, she sang it into the wood of her tree. The connection between a dryad and her tree is so strong that the dryad's thoughts are imprinted within the living wood--for those who know how to read them. --Taysir

Although I have lived within the Llanowar's comforting shade for several bloomings of the crocus, I have seldom ventured from Hedressel's sheltered peace. The druids still seem overawed by my presence. Whenever I pass into my tree to rest or meditate I fear the younger ones will swoon at the sight. Perhaps this reaction comes from envy of the dryad's bond with the forest? Perhaps not.

The elves here in Llanowar divide themselves into tribes, or elfhames, as they call them. Each elfhame has a distinct populace, territory, leadership, and social structure, and although most of the elfhames get along with one another there is occasional strife between them. In the past, elfhames have even warred among themselves, although no such grand hostilities mar the tranquillity of the forest now.

The other month I asked the druids if I could begin to see more of the splendors of Llanowar. The structure of the elfhames intrigues me, and I have seen practically nothing of the forest, save the holy ground of Hedressel, since my arrival. The druids readily assented, asking only that I allow a cadre of the Order of the Steel Leaf to escort me. When I asked why members of the military should accompany me, Cedrian, the eldest druid, responded that such an escort was first and foremost a show of respect, but there are also dangers in the woods, with orcs from the Ironclaw Mountains occasionally making raids into the forest. Thus, escorted by nearly a dozen Steel Leaf elves, I ventured out to see Elfhame Loridalh.

Over the course of our journey (which lasted nearly a fortnight) I learned much of Girian and the Steel Leaf under his able command. The young elves, with their eye patches, tattoos, and brightly colored hair, remind me of the young everywhere: overeagerness and passionate belief are their greatest faults--and their greatest assets. Long ago given a mandate by their goddess, Freyalise, to guard the forest and the elves, the Steel Leaf have never shirked their duties. In fact, they seem to have stuck so staunchly to Freyalise's words that they can even condemn elves who act in ways the Order does not believe fitting. Still, Girian and the others were the souls of courtesy to me.

When we arrived in Loridalh I was immediately reminded of a child whose mother has come home from a long journey. The child clings to her mother's skirts, as though to remain attached to her mother forever so that terrible absence can never occur again. Likewise, these elves seem forever striving to increase their connection to the infinite life-giver, nature.

The buildings of the Loridalh are unlike any I have seen elsewhere. The structures are created from living wood, coaxed into existence over countless years (although the elves did admit to me that their magic hurries the process). The Loridalh carefully set up frameworks, physical sketches of rooms and buildings, beside a chosen tree. The tree's wood is then encouraged to flow in the shapes indicated, creating ever-ascending buildings that reach well into the heights of the forest. I found this arrangement beautiful and highly indicative of the elves' psychology. It is no wonder they look on my ability to live within wood with such envy and awe.

All this time, the Steel Leaf's patience seemed frayed. As I discussed the Loridalh building philosophy with the elders, I noticed the strained looks on the faces of my waiting escort. While they thought I was sleeping, I overheard several of the Order grumbling about drawing such gloryless duty as escorting an ambassador. Ah, youth!

It was just as I was getting ready to depart the city that I saw something I believe brought me to a slightly deeper understanding of my hosts.

A young mother hovered on the edges of the small crowd observing my visit, her child cradled tenderly in her arms. I glanced up to find her looking at me with tears in her eyes, and I began to cross over to her. Girian stepped up, reminding me that it was past midday and we might want to consider leaving for home soon. I patted Girian's arm reassuringly and approached the young mother (I never did discover her name). When I asked her why she was crying, she responded that she was certain my visit was a sign from Freyalise, for her child was named Llonya, which means "dryad" in Old Elvish. With such a sign from the goddess, surely her child must be blessed.

Staring down at the solemn elf-child, I watched the girl's fragile hands reaching up towards me, or perhaps the sky, a braided twig-toy clutched in her hand. I took the child into my arms and held her up towards the dappled light; still the child waved impatiently. As I glanced at Girian, who stood with arms folded grimly over his armor, I presented the child to the largest tree in the town. Grasping at a living branch, the child pulled the smallest leafy twigs into her mouth while her other hand tangled itself in my hair. Then little Llonya began to cry. Hastily, her mother collected her, apologizing for her daughter's behavior.

The Llanowar are like this child, I thought. Although they see themselves as ancient sages and warriors, they are really still youngsters torn between the desire to leave their home and the desire to stay within their mother's arms forever.

Smiling to myself at this insight I could never share with my escort, I nodded to the relieved Girian. It was time to return home.

 

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Bigasdat's Escape

This tale provides an outsider's view of the elves of Llanowar. It is often interesting to see how one people appears to another, very different race. One often learns something of both the object and reporter of the tale. Readers should bear in mind, however, that the outsiders in this case are goblins. Goblins are, by their very nature, prone to exaggeration and hyperbole.-- Taysir

I never did like Bigasdat. Mom Three-Slugs named him "Bigasdat" 'cause he was big as two cats when he was born. I only got named "Flegg" 'cause Mom had a cold when I came out. So, I never did like Bigasdat.

Anyway, Bigasdat stole one a' Gramma Gooseguts's kites the other day and went flying. He says he borrowed it, but from Gramma's curses I don't think she agrees. Anyway, Bigasdat got a good wind and whoop! off he went. Giblet, did he go! All the way up and out 'til he hung over da Forest of Death. Then he dropped like Grampa Umph after he ate dose three rocks. (We never found out why Grampa did that.)

Anyway, I was happy then 'cause I thought Bigasdat was gone. But now he's back. And he thinks he's a hero. Sheesh!

So Bigasdat starts bragging: "Yah! I crashed dat kite--kerbang--right in da Forest of Death. The crash woulda killed Flegg here, or any of you, flat. But I swung into a tree and lived."

Which means Bigasdat closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and waved his arms like he always does when he's scared, and his hood probably got caught in a tree branch.

"Da forest had the hugest trees ever a goblin saw. They went up to da sky and da roots went almost as high. And everything was silent like when we all wait for Chief Blurglump to belch. I knew if I waited da death elves would come. But I couldn't see da sun, so how's I to start runnin'?"

If the trees are so high, how come I can see da sky over 'em now, huh?

"Then I heard 'em--there musta been five . . . nine . . . no, ninety of 'em, all comin' fer me! Death elves with their pointed teeth, evil eyes, and poison arrows. So I knew home was da way they weren't. I coulda fought them if there were only ten or so, but with so many I had ta run. Mom Three-Slugs woulda hated it if I died."

Yeah, who'd she have to klunk when I'm not around? And who'd ever believe so many elves came after Bigasdat? 'Sides, even one elf'd send Bigasdat screamin' naked into a snowstorm.

"So's anyway, I ran and ran for hours. I don't think any goblin ever ran so long. I could hear da elves everywhere, and once I hadda hide in a pile of leaves. But they didn't find me, no."

Then da elves are stupider'n Bigasdat's pet stone. Bigasdat can't hide from Gramma Gooseguts, and she's half-blind and deaf!

"Finally, after what musta been two or three days, I escaped da Forest of Death and got back to da Ironclaws. So's even a whole tribe of pointy-ears couldn't get one goblin--and dat's me. Hah!"

"But, 'Gas, you was only gone fer an hour. And your kite only crashed a stone's throw inta da forest," I pointed out.

"Well, it seemed like days, and if it was only an hour it's 'cause I'm so fast! Anyway, da kite's at least an hour's run inta da forest."

"Yeah? Den how come I can see it from here, bug-burp?"

Bigasdat stared at da forest and da kite hangin' from a tree right there fer as long as it takes Gramma ta catch a bug with her toes. Then he musta seen the logic of my statement, 'cause he bopped me. So I bopped him back. My fist can out-logic Bigasdat's anyday.

Anyway, dis went on until we both fell asleep. And in da morning Gramma twisted Bigasdat's ears for hours. Guess my brother's good for something after all.

 

A Planeswalker's Guide to Caliman (Portal: Second Age)

 Welcome to Caliman!  An island to the south of the vast world of Dominaria, to the southeast of Jamuraa's coast.  Portal Second Age takes places here, sometime before the first Phyrexian Invasion.  

(sourced from the Portal Second Age guide book)  Thanks to u/TrioCarto for the scans for each page and faction.  

Caliman's elves, goblins and humans have long coexisted in relative harmony — or ignorance of each other. But in the last 150 years, disagreements between the races have led to skirmishes, and those skirmishes may eventually lead to war.

The island uses a mixture of technology and magic. Seagoing merchants draw on ancient Thran technology; the swamp dwellers have evil Phyrexian artifacts and trade them with the goblins; the humans benefit from the genius of a great inventor. Only the elves of the northwest forest, masters of green magic, are without any technology.

White

White is the color of Alaborn, a human kingdom dominating Caliman's southern plains. It is a civilization at the height of its architectural, intellectual, and artistic accomplishments.

Over thousands of years of peace, Alaborn's weapons and armor became increasingly elaborate and useless. When the Alaborn finally encountered the goblin tribes of the mountains, humiliating military defeats followed. Only ingenious military inventions saved them from complete destruction.

Recently, the Alaborn have discovered a new enemy, whose cunning and ruthlessness far exceeds that of the goblins — the swamp queen, Tojira.

(illustration: Mike Zug and Kev Walker)

 

 

Blue

Blue is the color of the Talas, an agile and muscular race from far to the west of Caliman. Over thousands of years, they have become a significant power on the seas and scattered islands of this part of Dominaria.

Merchants and pirates, the Talas control timber towns to the east as well as several port towns built on ancient Thran ruins. About thirty years ago, they began harvesting the elves' rare featherwood trees, which yield an immensely light timber valuable for crafting ships and thopters.

(illustration: John Avon, Mark Tedin, and Mathew Wilson)

 

 

Green

Green is the color of the elves of Norwood, the northern forest. Over the thousands of years since they settled on Caliman, they have transformed their home into a sylvan paradise.

Elves are generally a little smaller than humans, with a slight but muscular build. Their skin color is primarily caucasian, and their average lifespan is 500 years.

All elves are well trained and proficient with missile weapons, and their ability to move silently makes them virtually unbeatable in their own territory.

Red

Red is the color of the mountain tribes — goblins, ogres, and giants.

Goblins are sneaky and tend to attack in small bands. Their weapons range from rocks and sharpened sticks to slings, bows, and some Phyrexian airguns they've traded for with the sweamp queen.

Ogres are large humanoids with massive, muscular builds. They recently created the dreaded battlesaw, a large chainsaw-like weapon that combines Phyrexian mana battery with a specially forged blade.

Giants are brooding and dangerous creatures. Their solitary nature means that little is known of them.

(illustration: Tony DiTerlizzi)

 

   

Black

Black is the color of the swamp queen and her minions.

For centuries, the salt marsh at Caliman's north end was uninhabited except for a few animals and semi-intelligent monsters. Ten years ago, this sorceress appeared in the ruins of the ancient Thran city there. Since then, she's grown in power, sending an increasing number of her forces out in search of artifacts and slaves.

The swamp queen is served by nightstalkers, magically created black-mana creatures. They ride large mechanical beasts whose spread feet allows them to easily lope through the uneven swamp terrain.

The stage is set for the forces of good and evil to march into battle.

(illustration: Kev Walker and Mark Tedin)

Encyclopedia Dominia: Histories and Fables - Return of the Empress, Scalebane's Elite, and Still Waters Deep Roots

   The Encyclopedia Domnia had various stories, lore, and information of the worlds of the multiverse.  Here we're restoring some of the online duelist's tales.  The Encyclopedia was gathered by the planeswalker Taysir, here is the section of "Histories and Fables" with stories: Return of the Empress, Scalebane's Elite, and Still Waters, Deep Roots.  We are continuing our reproducing of them: they are not original content, but created by Wizards of the Coast for the Online Duelist in the 1990s. 

Return of the Empress

by Richard Thames Rowan

 Keening wails of the dying reverberated through the cooling waters of Vodalia as Galina gazed bleakly across the final battlefield of the royal city. Brave warriors and mages held back the mindless army of relentless Homarids by force of will alone.

This is the end of the empire, she thought as she absently rubbed the pearl set in the blue scales of her cheek. I am sorry my husband, may Svyelune's Light shelter you, but I can do no more. Our food is gone, our forces wasted. You were always the strong one, but even you succumbed to the horde . . . .

"Your Serene Highness, the time has come."

Galina turned her piercing gaze on Marshall Karel Volnikov, the only merfolk who would risk disturbing her thoughts. A long silence filled only with the wail of the dying passed between them like a conversation. Karel absorbed her stare impassively until she slowly nodded.

"Gather the survivors, we go to Akoroun's portal," she said curtly.

Karel nodded solemnly, touched his forehead in deference, and jetted away in a flurry of water. Galina's gaze followed thoughtfully after the noble warrior who had led her military forces unfalteringly for so many years and who had lent such astute political savvy to her court. Her thoughts turned to the distant colony of Etlan Shiis, the only colony likely to have escaped the ravages of the Homarids. It was well past time to remind the artisan caste, who founded the distant colony, of the duty they owed to the Empire.

The cold waters swirled around her, chilling her as she made her way up the spire where the mage Akoroun would open a portal to Etlan Shiis. Akoroun was waiting above with Karel, and they both touched their foreheads as she swam up. At least four score survivors gathered about the base of the spire from throughout the royal city as the Homarids began to claim the final stronghold of Vodalia for their own.

"All is ready?"

Akoroun nodded, "Yes, your Serene Highness."

"Then let us begin."

Akoroun motioned half a dozen mages forward, and each pulled a large pearl from their robes. The mages stroked their pearls softly and crooned strangely mournful notes of deep longing. Voices embraced and danced in complex harmonies of delicate intricacy as tendrils of moonlight twisted out of the pearls. At the murmuring command of the voices, the tendrils wove a web of light. Each mage's voice slid with serpentine grace among the strands, pulling them tighter into a pool of glowing brilliance until, one-by-one, the voices slid free of the pool. At last, only Akoroun's tendril remained attached to the portal. He nodded.

"The portal is ready, but I must maintain the weave."

"Very well, let us begin," Galina said, motioning the survivors forward through the portal. With a final glance at a dying Vodalia, she swam through.

---

Warm currents gradually cleared the white haze obscuring Galina's vision, and she glanced around at the remarkable change of scenery. To the west, a vast rolling plain stretched endlessly, broken only by coral formations, deep sea kelp, and darting schools of fish. Rising to the east, and on whose slopes she rested, an impressive island-mountain range stretched from south to north. Further north, the range swept back to the east, hiding itself for a time before reappearing in the distance. For the first time in a long while, she began to feel warm.

Karel swam up and waited for her to speak.

"I see you, Karel."

"Your highness, I have taken the liberty of dispatching scouts to determine the exact location of the colony. They bring some disturbing news." Karel seemed troubled. Galina raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

Karel hesitated. "Etlan Shiis seems somewhat . . . larger than anticipated. Too large, in fact." By way of an explanation, he gestured to the group of mages who were in deep conference.

Galina frowned thoughtfully, then said, "Gather everyone. I would see this 'city' of artisans."

Karel nodded as he moved to collect the remnants of Vodalia and said, "It lies beyond the northern bend of the mountains." After a few minutes, Galina made her way northward in the shadow of the eastern island-mountains.

The Vodalians began swimming after their empress in silence, naturally falling into strict caste order with the warriors immediately behind Galina, then the mages, a few of the merchant caste, and lastly a handful of the lowly artisans--even in battle it was occasionally useful to have servants for demeaning labor.

Galina led the silent entourage, gliding over deep chasms in the slopes of the island-mountains, through coral formations and vast schools of brightly colored fish. She skirted the hot waters surrounding a column of bubbles rising from a steam vent and eventually came to the final mountain separating her from Etlan Shiis. As she crested the last ridge, she suddenly halted in a turmoil of warm waters, gazing at the city below.

Rolling plains sprawled to the north and west until they reached the mountains in the far distance. Unlike the western flats, however, this plain was filled with far more than just coral and kelp. Etlan Shiis began at the base of the island-mountains below her and stretched to the north and west. A slow anger began seeping through her eyes as they traveled the vast expanse of sweeping arches and artistic spires and towers that were so different from the royal city so recently lost to the Homarids. The city stretched on and on to the west until it vanished from sight. Her eyes picked out five enormous spires linked by arches on the far horizon, and her anger erupted.

"How dare they mock the Imperial Towers!" she thundered in rage as her followers cringed in their awe. The city rivaled the Vodalian royal city in size, and exceeded it in grandeur.

"Your most serene highness, if you please, all may not be as it seems," Akoroun touched her lightly on the arm. He was about to continue when he realized what he had done and his eyes widened with alarm.

Galina slowly turned to face the mage who had defiled her by his touch and suddenly gripped his neck with a darting hand. She gazed at him in the calmness of rage as he began to convulse beneath her hand. His eyes rolled back in his head and he began keening as steam bubbled from his skin. He thrashed on briefly after his keening died away; when he grew still, she released him to float upward to Svyelune's Light above the sea.

Her fury abated, she located another mage and calmly demanded, "Explain Akoroun's statement."

Startled, the mage stammered, "Ah, he was saying, ah, that we seem to have arrived in Etlan Shiis some years after we left Vodalia."

Galina absorbed the news impassively and said, "How many years?"

The mage swallowed and said, "About, ah . . . we think it may be as much as three thousand years later." He braced himself and closed his eyes and prepared to receive treatment similar to his predecessor's.

Galina glared at the mage for a long moment, then nodded and said, "Very well. We must re-acquaint this city of artisans with their duty to the Empire." She turned and made her way downward, leaving her entourage to gradually recover from their shock. They followed her.

---

It was almost too easy. She had led the Vodalians into the city of Etlan Shiis without a single challenge and on to the new Imperial Towers. The chamber containing the group of artisans that styled themselves the "Council of Etlan Shiis" was not difficult to find. They had been initially startled by the appearance of their brethren, then outraged at being disturbed. They had reluctantly listened to Karel's introduction, which they found unnerving even as they doubted it. In the end, what decided the matter was one of the councilors' comments.

"Toss this garish riffraff out and let us get on with our business." Oblivious to the effect his words were having on his visitors, he continued. "After all, even if they are who they say, didn't our ancestors leave Vodalia because the caste system put the most violent and unfit to rule in charge of the nation?" Several of his fellow councilors nodded in agreement.

Karel calmly turned to this most vocal of the council, swam forward, and with fluid grace, broke his neck. The council chamber erupted with cries of outrage that became panic as Karel seized the next councilor and dispatched him with equal ease. The council members began scattering in all directions. Within moments, a scythe of energy from a Vodalian battle mage cut the councilors down as they fled. Only one escaped. At Karel's signal, a warrior quietly slipped out of the chamber to apprehend him. Galina gave the order to those remaining to subdue the city immediately and inform the residents that she would be assuming her throne once again. Her lords touched their foreheads and departed in all directions with small bands of warriors and mages. For the next several hours, she heard the occasional sounds of short-lived battle as each objection was squashed and those who objected were brought into line.

Galina gazed thoughtfully across the silent council chamber through the floating bodies of the ex-councilors. In her solitude, she began laying plans for the defense of the city, for the marshaling of military forces, and for the future.

Some day, my husband, may Svyelune's Light shelter you, I will return with hundreds of thousands of warriors to reclaim your Empire. We will utterly destroy the Homarids and dedicate the victory to the memory of your glory. From this day forward, a new Vodalian Empire is born . . . .

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Scalebane's Elite

By Teeuwynn

The following story is a verbatim transcription of an eyewitness account of one of the most important events in recent Jamuuran history. -- Taysir.

I'm not certain where to begin . . . or why you want me to tell this tale. Kulinda or Jerran could tell it better . . . ah, but their wounds are still healing. Well then, I'll tell you what I saw and heard for myself. I can vouch for nothing else, and what I can attest to is fantastic enough for ten tales. Well then, this is the story of how the mage Mangara was set free from his terrible, unlawful prison. And, as you know, if it was not for Mangara's help we would never have beaten Kaervek's magic and undead minions.

I have fought in Scalebane's army for over a year now, and no warrior could wish a more inspiring, brave leader than Rashida Scalebane. I would die for that woman -- indeed, I almost did. Less than a fortnight past, Rashida called three warriors to her tent: myself, Kulinda, and Jerran. Wasting no words, Rashida explained that she had chosen us to accompany her and a few others on a special mission, a mission to save the mage Mangara. At these words Kulinda gasped, and I nearly did as well. Mangara had disappeared many months ago. How could Rashida know he was imprisoned, let alone where he was trapped.

Nodding sharply at Kulinda, Rashida answered only that all would be explained that could be explained by the prophetess Asmira, who had joined our encampment only hours before. "At dawn we will again meet in this tent and Asmira and I shall tell you all we can of our quest." Telling us to prepare to leave immediately after the dawn meeting, Rashida bowed her head over her legendary dragonslaying banesword. The first gathering of Scalebane's Elite was at an end.

Restless and nervous after a troubled night's sleep, we met once more in Rashida's tent at dawn. Asmira was already waiting within, seated upon the floor herder-style. Asmira was smaller than I imagined, but her dark eyes reflected both confidence and conviction. Clad in white and gold garments mixing both Femeref and Zhalfiran styles, the great prophetess Asmira greeted us with the most serene smile I have ever seen. "Greetings and thanks, Children of Fate," the prophetess began. "In recent days great omens have wafted across our land on the wings of dreams. I have felt their feathery touch, as has your leader, Rashida. Now is our chance to free Mangara from the stone in which he has long been imprisoned."

"What sort of stone could imprison a mage?" Jerran asked in his sing-song whisper.

"An amber prison," Rashida answered. "It is a magical stone into which a mage may thrust any single being."

"And the being may remain trapped there for an infinity of eternities if he is not freed," Asmira concluded. "It is our responsibility to free Mangara from this prison. The dreams have told us where Mangara's prison lies . . . a handful or more days travel into the Mwonvuli Jungle. We must begin our journey at once if we are to have any hope of rescuing Mangara before Kaervek's might grows beyond all hope of stopping him."

"But what is our role in all this?" I asked. "We are only warriors and not many in number."

"You are my warriors and the heart of all Jamuura beats in your breasts," Rashida answered.

"And you are so few in number because we do not believe more warriors could avoid many of Kaervek's patrols," Asmira finished. "But come, gather your things, it is time for us to begin the Lion's Eye Quest."

As we gathered our gear together I thought on the ancient saying -- "Caught in the Lion's Eye." Yes, if ever there was a moment of crisis, we were walking into it. And with that thought I joined my fellows to confront our fate.

The next few days are mostly a blur to me. We did our best to avoid Kaervek's patrols, but there were far more than even Rashida had predicted. Attempting evasion in the plains proved difficult. Alternately battling and avoiding the undead patrols, we reached the final hill overlooking the jungle far later than we had hoped. We could all see Rashida's nerves grow raw as time drained away from us. Even Asmira's face began to appear ashen with worry on the third day as we neared the final hill.

But at the end of that day as we crested the final rise, we found new hope in the form of the flying ship, Weatherlight. Rushing up to the ship's captain, Sisay, Rashida demanded to know how and why she was here. The slightly embarrassed captain responded that she had had a dream that bade her come to this very spot. Although I'm sure Sisay thought Asmira and Rashida would think her crazy for flying her ship into the middle of an enemy-infested plain because of a dream, our leaders merely nodded. After all, the Lion's Eye Quest itself was the stuff of dreams.

It took only a few minutes to scramble up rope ladders and climb aboard the Weatherlight. On board, Sisay's crew were fewer in number than I would have expected, but Sisay said she was still rebuilding. I wish there had been time to speak to her crew, particularly the sharp-eyed minotaur, but exhaustion and the need for all hands to man the ship did not give me the chance. Perhaps I will be able to buy Sisay and her crew a round of drinks at a tavern on some future night.

Now, where was I? . . . Oh, yes, Sisay and the Weatherlight immediately set sail through the still jungle air. You'd think flying through sky would be much smoother than riding the ocean's waves, but it really isn't. The Weatherlight constantly hummed and vibrated as we cut our way through the air. We flew in one day what would have taken us five or more on the ground. Without the Weatherlight we would have lost crucial days and perhaps the war.

When we finally landed, we found ourselves outside a small palace just beginning to decay. Vines covered much of the western wall, but the rest of the squat edifice was still relatively unmarred. A large metal door blocked our way into the compound, but it proved little impediment to us. With Asmira leading us into the palace, we passed through two long hallways in complete silence, unbothered by guards of any kind. Then silence became screams and Kaervek's dread minions descended upon our small group.

The battle through the palace seemed to last for days. Have you ever fought continuously for your life for hours on end? It is a constant battle to maintain the shield of hope, to not give in to the terror surrounding you. Yet, we persevered. If it were not for our dragonscale armor and other magical protections, we never would have survived the assault. But survive we did, and made slow progress into the fortress until at last we saw the amber prison floating within a scintillating beam of white light.

As Asmira managed to push closer to the amber prison, Kaervek's forces began to pummel us with magical fire and other terrors. Jerran was badly burned several times over and it is a wonder he survived at all. I remember little of the next few minutes save the struggle to remain standing. I remember seeing Asmira reach the amber prison . . . I remember seeing the holy one bend her head in concentration over the magical stone, her face ghostly in the magical beam's sharp light. Then my sight was overwhelmed by the forces in front of me and I was sure I would fall at any moment.

It was then that a terrible shrieking howl echoed through the chamber and I saw Rashida and Scalebane dancing through the undead with the grace of a thousand cheetahs. Even when fighting dragons, I had never seen Rashida fight so well or so dexterously. On her face she wore a mask crafted of dragonskin, and its eyes, blazing with yellow fury, were not Rashida's. Rashida must have killed two score or more of Kaervek's minions in the time it took me to slay one. But such a display of valor does not come without cost. Just as I reached our leader she collapsed in complete exhaustion. Standing over Rashida's body to keep what remained of Kaervek's forces from harming her, I looked again to Asmira.

And in that moment I forgot the jungle heat as my blood froze in my veins. For as Asmira raised the amber prison in triumph a darkling panther warrior-woman leapt from ambush towards the holy warrior. Even as I screamed a warning, I recognized the legendary slayer Purraj of Urborg. As my scream echoed, too late to warn Asmira, Purraj's knife dug deeply into Asmira's back. Arching backwards Asmira ignored the terrible blow, managing to whisper out the last words of her spell to free Mangara. Her ritual complete, the amber prison suddenly glowed with such ferocity I could no longer bear to look on it.

When the blinding shaft of light faded all of Kaervek's forces lay dead around us and a middle-aged man in strange clothes stood where Asmira and Purraj had grappled seconds before. Of Purraj and Asmira there was no sign. Perhaps they were both consumed in the amber prison's shattering light.

Rashida stirred below me, and as I helped the shaken warrior onto her feet I saw her eyes meet Mangara's. With a deep bow the freed mage disappeared in a glimmer of pale white light.

Of course, you know the rest. Mangara confronted Kaervek and managed to prevail against the dark mage and his overextended resources. Now Kaervek lies within the very stone that so long held Mangara prisoner. It seems a fitting punishment. Asmira has officially been granted the title of Holy Avenger, but I fear it may be a posthumous honor. As for Purraj . . . I have no idea but I am sure if Asmira fell, then so did that Urborg assassin.

I grow tired now, and I must check on Jerran. I hope my tale has been of some use to you.

May you never live in the Lion's Eye.

-- Forena, Scalebane's Elite.

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Still Waters, Deep Roots

The following parable is short, but telling. The elves of Riashil perhaps best reflect the ancient shyness and reticence of the Llanowar elves. Theirs may well be the closest to pre - Ice Age elvish culture. Although the Riashil's insularity grows out of a desire to protect their culture, it also fosters a certain amount of fear. The following story illustrates the latter, reactionary, response to the elfhame's secluded existence.--Taysir

Listen closely, children, and I will tell you a tale while the Glitter Moon gazes upon us and shines down blessings upon the earth. In years before you were born--but not too many years before--there lived a young elf named Finn. Finn was not unlike most children, full of energy and spilling over with questions. "Why does the Glitter Moon shine? Where do maggots come from? Why do I have to be nice to others?"

Most of Finn's questions were answered more or less to his satisfaction, but there was one question his elders could not give him a simple answer to. "Why do we never leave Riashil?" Of course you all know that the boundaries of Riashil are sacred, for we live in the most blessed place under Freyalise's care, yet Finn could not seem to understand this. "I want to see more of the world!" he cried. And the elders just shook their heads and determined to wait with the patience of the trees for Finn's foolishness to come to an end.

But it did not end. Instead, Finn's curiosity grew like a patch of itchweed, and Finn felt bound to scratch. Journeying to the edge of Riashil, where the Moen river marks our southern boundary, Finn found himself staring at a young human across the water. "Ah!" thought Finn. "Perhaps this human can answer my question." Solemnly, Finn hailed the human and asked his question. Staring intently, the young human gestured for Finn to wade across the Moen, made shallow by drought.

So excited was Finn at the prospect of finally finding out why the Riashil never leave their home, that the young elf dove into the chill waters and swam across to where the human waited. Shaking the water from his eyes, Finn repeated his question once more: "Why should elves stay only in Riashil?"

The human gestured again, and Finn edged even closer. Smiling, the human opened a large bag at his side and gestured for Finn to see what was inside. Finn peered closely into the bag's dark interior, hoping to see something that would explain the mystery to him. But before he knew what was happening, the human shoved poor Finn into his bag and took him away forever.

So, you see, Finn got his wish much faster than he would have gotten it if he waited patiently, but the answer was perhaps not what he hoped. You must have still waters to grow deep roots, my children. Rapids wash away only the foolish, not the wise.