Encyclopedia Dominia: Early Volumes III - Interrogation, Eater of the Infinite, The Hero's Tale

 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 are the Interrogation (of a Phyrexian), the Eater of the Infinite (of Rabiah) and the Hero's Tale (of Benalia).  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 Interrogation

The following encounter was recreated from a transcript that is, unfortunately, incomplete, having suffered extensive fire damage. Nevertheless, that only known record of the interrogation of a priest of the entity Yawgmoth sheds a fascinating light on the philosophy of these mysterious beings.--Taysir

He lay shackled in the dark, and the furrows on his wrists and ankles neither bled nor faded. Some of his brothers could summon light from within, during the deepest stages of meditation, but he could not afford to block out his surroundings: he had been delivered into the hands of dangerous fools.

He heard a door thrown open far down the corridor, and the formless void around him receded in the face of an oncoming torch. He heard the moist squeak of wood on wood, and went momentarily blind as the torchbearer threw open the door. He writhed, and the shackles scored his flesh anew. A second bearer entered, creating a bubble of light barely large enough to contain them all. Through the door and into the bubble strode a stern, bookish man in an inappropriately splendid robe.

"Awake, zealot," the man called, insistent but strangely cautious. "We have little time, and I would make the most of the opportunity you represent."

The prisoner remained silent, but stared unblinkingly at the robed figure.

"Vandal," continued the visitor, "you are at the mercy of your most hated enemies. The Order of the Ebon Hand--" he gestured at the torchbearers, who wore initiates' robes-- "will break your body, your spirit, and your mind." He leaned forward slightly, squinting. "I would have words with you before your endless screaming begins."

The prisoner hissed softly. His voice, though soft and monotonous, reeked with casual scorn. "I am Y'sith, Fifth Circle Priest of Yawgmoth. Who do you represent, if not the Order?"

The interrogator smiled. "I am of the Order. But I am here now on my own behalf." He threw his head back, giving the torchlight full play on his features. "I am Endrek Sahr, Master Breeder, Creator of Life, and Race Architect. You are an enemy of the Ebon Hand, and I am here to determine if that marks the limit of the conflict between your goals and mine."

"The Ebon Hand is not our enemy."

"No? Are you not of Phyrexia, false priest? Have not you and your kind stolen and ruined the fruits of artificers' efforts for generations? Does not the worship of your Yawgmoth demand that we make war on each other?"

Y'sith raised his head off the inclined slab and snarled haughtily. "Soft fool. We are a force beyond your ken."

Endrek Sahr smiled once more. "But not our enemy."

"When a swamp insect stings, do you go to war against it? Do you declare it your enemy?" The prisoner lowered his head back onto the slab. "So it is with Yawgmoth and your precious Order. Begone, Master Breeder. You and the Ebon Hand are an annoyance; nothing more."

Sahr's eyes darkened, and drawing a dagger from the folds of his billowing sleeve, he approached with slow, deliberate motions. He rested the knifepoint across the bridge of the captive's nose.

"The bite of some swamp insects can kill," he said, gently inscribing ellipses around Y'sith's eyes. "And some, I think you'll find, bite hard enough to pierce even the hide of a Yawgmoth priest." The dagger tapped solidly on Y'sith's forehead, and clicked as if striking a stone wrapped in velvet. Then it disappeared back into the robe. "Choose your enemies and friends carefully, Y'sith. Though you are sworn to destroy artificial life, my primary interest is in the genuine variety. I have no need of brass cogs or clockworks: my creations are truly alive."

"We do not destroy, soft fool, nor do we accept your distinction between 'true' and 'artificial' life. All life is energy, and we would rather see that energy put to constructive use than allow foolish artificers--or breeders--to make a mockery of it."

"'Constructive use?' No one and nothing has ever returned from your realm, false priest. Is it constructive to consume the work of others, which you find loathsome, and to produce nothing?"

Y'sith hissed again. "No one and nothing ever created on this plane is fit to survive in Phyrexia. We do not destroy your misguided efforts: Phyrexia does. It winnows out the weak and cauterizes the diseased. We no more loathe your artifacts than a surgeon loathes a gangrenous limb. Remember that the best and brightest of your artificers conquered entire cities with a clumsy recreation of a machine he glimpsed in Phyrexia, the height of artifact purity. But your pathetic marveling at his poor copy, this 'dragon engine,' demonstrates the poverty of your imagination and will."

"I see Phyrexian ire still runs deep on that subject. But again, I fail to see why your disdain for mechanical creatures should put you at odds with me. Artificers build machines; Phyrexians destroy them. But I am no artificer." Sahr turned away from the shackled priest, stroking his chin as he spoke. "If, as you say, there is no difference between real and mechanical life in Phyrexia, and if by Phyrexian standards, the greatest of our artificers was a groping child, then perhaps it is time for your faith and my work to intersect."

Sahr drew an armchair alongside the slab, and a torchbearer followed. The Master Breeder sat silently as the second bearer moved to illuminate Y'sith, and then said, "Do you not see how much we have to share with one another? I understand there are machines in Phyrexia that cannot be distinguished from living creatures; here, I build living creatures from nothing. My thrulls are alive, infused with eldrich energy until such time as the Order chooses to release it."

Y'sith spat on the floor, an oily froth, as close to Sahr's feet as he could manage. "You are deluded, Endrek Sahr. The creatures you breed are as inferior and weak as any that are built. They would not survive the First Sphere. 'Infused with energy?'" He sneered and spat again. "The wonders of Phyrexia draw power from the ambient energy around them. Your thrulls are perpetually limited by the single spark of creation. They will never be any more or less than they are at the moment of inception."

The priest's voice cracked with anger, and he fell back, panting softly. "We hold base dabblers such as you in the lowest regard. Just as you would not allow an initiate access to your most powerful secrets, we will not allow you to litter this or any other plane with your jetsam.

"As I lie here now, so does Mishra lie deep in the center of Phyrexia, his body wracked with fresh pain and torments day in and day out. He shrieks and cries in his prison, and begs us to forgive his transgressions against our faith. But he will never be forgiven. He will never be released." Y'sith rose up on his slab. "And when your time on this plane is done, Master Breeder, you will join him."

Endrek Sahr was silent for several long moments. Then, with a short, barking laugh, he rose expansively from his seat. "Thank you, my truculent friend. Though you have unwisely refused my invitation to share knowledge, you have nonetheless given me food for thought." He drew his dagger once more, and rammed it deeply into the arm of the chair, where it quivered. "May the rest of your conversations with the Order be as beneficial."

The Master Breeder turned then, his mind furiously baying after the dark inspiration it had just winded. He made haste from the chamber, leaving his attendants to collect the torch and dagger, and re-bar the door. The light they carried faded as they retreated down the corridor.

Alone, Y'sith listened for a moment, face expressionless, and then briefly smiled. It was a grim smile, one that set his lips like razors against each other. His eyes were alight, reflecting for barely a heartbeat the dark and malevolent brilliance that lies at the heart of Phyrexia itself.

And then, all was darkness. 

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Eater of the Infinite

 as told by Farouk ab Illah

 

I chose this story for inclusion in the encyclopedia because its style is distinctive to the legends of Rabiah. It is also an interesting tale of the creation (or re-creation, if you will) of two important peoples/beings: the Serendib efreets and the desert nomads. -Taysir

Blessed are we who live in Rabiah, which is but one of infinite Rabiahs, for our gods smile upon us and grant us bounty of which other people can but dream. In this time of bounty it is difficult to believe that such a land could ever be endangered, yet there once existed on this very sand a Serendib efreet whose heart was so cold and jealous he could not stand the thought of other beings sharing the same earth as he. This efreet fumed for years, vowing to the winds that one day none but he would walk Rabiah's endless lands, and while he muttered to himself he searched for a way to make his vow complete.

One day, a foreign planeswalker called upon the efreet to aid him in battle. The efreet performed heroically, and when the battle was done the planeswalker agreed to grant the jealous creature a wish. One can only assume granting a wish to an efreet amused the young 'walker, for why else would the magic-wielder make such an offer? Seizing upon this opportunity for which he had waited years, the efreet declared that he wished to be the only creature able to walk the lands of Rabiah.

Taken aback by the efreet's brash desire, the planeswalker pondered the request. Finally, after much thought, he reached out and placed a jewel on the efreet's forehead. Working magic unknown to us in these modern times, the 'walker split the efreet's mouth in two. He then turned his will upon the efreet's left hand, changing it into a hooked knife sharper than a grandmother's tongue.

"With these changes, I grant your wish, efreet!" the 'walker declared. "Anything that you cut with your left hand shall shrink to the size of a sand bug. Any such creature you swallow with your left mouth will disappear from all Rabiahs for all eternity--as will all other creatures of its kind. With enough perseverance, you may soon walk the planes of Rabiah in perfect solitude."

Glorying in his newly granted power, the efreet turned to the first creature he saw and speared it with his left hand. No sooner had he done so than the poor creature shrunk to exactly the size of a sand bug, and the efreet popped it in his left mouth and swallowed it whole. Just what the efreet ate we do not know, for the creature and all its cousins no longer exist in our lands. Greatly pleased with his success, the efreet declared himself Eater of the Infinite. From that moment on, the Eater searched out all the creatures he could find and began casting them and their kin out of Rabiah.

For a fortnight the Eater's appetite ran unchecked. But then a young bird maiden, by the name of Fyhra, witnessed the Eater destroy a whole herd of beasts by merely shrinking and eating one. After quietly following him for a day and a night, Fyhra soon realized that the Eater was destroying untold numbers of creatures. Praying to the all the gods she knew, Fyhra landed on a rocky outcropping near the Eater just as dawn blessed Rabiah with her first blush.

"Why do you eat these beasts, efreet?"

Laughing, the Eater responded: "Why, because I can. And because with every creature I eat, I eat every one of its kin on all the Rabiahs. Soon I shall have Rabiah to myself. Come closer, little bird maiden, that your kind may join the Infinite inside me."

Shaking her head in fear, Fyhra flew off quickly into the morning sun. As he was in a lazy mood, and perhaps because he reveled in Fyhra's fear, the Eater did not pursue the terrified bird maiden.

Flying on the morning winds, Fyhra wondered how she could possibly stop the Eater from casting all creatures out of Rabiah. Although her fear carried her for the entire day, Fyhra finally grew too tired to continue. Alighting upon the cooling evening sands, she sobbed quietly to herself.

"Why do you cry to yourself, winged one?" a voice whispered from the shadows of a large dune.

"Who are you?" Fyhra exclaimed.

"I am but a Watcher, and I see you have met the Eater of the Infinite," the shadowy figure replied.

"Yes, I have, and I fear Rabiah will soon be his and no one else's," Fyhra responded.

"Perhaps. But, then again, perhaps not. Take the gift I leave you and wake the man you shall find asleep on the other side of this dune. The Eater may destroy with his left mouth, but there is balance in all things. There is a right for every left, a beginning for every end. Tell the young nomad you wake of the Eater, and of my words. Together you may yet save your home."

Fyhra was bursting with questions, but before she could ask even one, the shadowy figure shimmered and faded with the wind. Only a small but bulky carpet, neatly rolled, remained. Upon unrolling this, Fyhra immediately realized from its woven pattern of wings and swirls that the stranger's gift was a flying carpet.

Still pondering the stranger's words, Fyhra took up the carpet and flew over the large dune. Lo and behold, exactly where the stranger said he would lie, there rested a young nomad. Fyhra silently thanked the gods for bringing him to this dune. She landed beside the scruffy man and called out softly to him. When he awoke, she introduced herself and poured out the entire story to the solemn nomad.

The man, whose name was Pakhir, listened intently to the bird maiden's story. When she finished, he said, "Thank you for telling me this tale, maiden. When I left my family's camp this morning I went to find a place to die.

"For, you see, I am the last of the nomads. The others have died from a terrible plague. The world will grieve our loss. Yet, perhaps now I may end our family's saga in glory, instead of infamy," Pakhir finished.

"But who was the man who instructed us?"

"Does that matter? Either he tells the truth and we may save our land, or else he lies and all is lost. We can only try."

Nodding her head, Fyhra took to the air with Pakhir following on the flying carpet, and traveled back the way she had come only the previous day. The pair finally found the Eater nearing the city of Bassorah. Stretching her shimmering wings to their fullest, Fyhra swooped round and round the Eater, calling and taunting the would-be world-killer.

The Eater eagerly followed the darting maiden as she maneuvered him away from the city with its teeming multitudes. When the Eater was judged to be far enough removed from the city to ensure no one else was endangered, Pakhir screamed out his family's name and plunged directly at the efreet.

The Eater's two mouths opened wide with glee as he deftly speared Pakhir on his left hand, shrinking and twisting the young nomad. At that moment, Fyhra again swooped down and swiftly shoved the now-tiny Pakhir into the efreet's open right mouth. "A right for every left, a beginning for every end," she chanted as the Eater's eyes grew wide with horror. For when Pakhir's dying body entered the Eater's right mouth all of the nomad's direct ancestors appeared again across Rabiah, alive and well.

But Fyhra and Pakhir weren't finished with the Eater. As soon as the efreet's left hand touched the inside of his right mouth his enormous, unquenchable hunger grew even more immense. Swallowing and swallowing, the Eater's right mouth soon consumed first his hand and then his arm. In rapid order, the Eater of the Infinite swallowed himself piece by piece until only the echoes of his enraged screams were left upon the air. Yet, in the very moment that the Eater consumed himself and disappeared from Rabiah, dozens of other Serendib efreets were reborn upon the land. Each efreet was marked with the double mouth and hook of its progenitor. Yet, fortunately for us, the new efreets did not possess the Eater's dread power.

They do, however, possess a curse. For all Serendib are bitter with the legacy of defeat, and any who wish to summon or command one would do well to think twice on the matter. The Serendib curse those who would use them as did that long-ago planeswalker, causing suffering and pain to the magic-worker so long as they work in his or her service.

And what of Fyhra? She became a heroine of her people, as did Pakhir of his--for Fyhra told the desert nomads of his great sacrifice on their behalf.

And who was the man who told Fyhra how to defeat the Eater? That is something we shall never know. Perhaps it was a god who took pity upon our lands. Or perhaps a planeswalker . . . even the very planeswalker who granted the Eater his fell power. We must be content with our knowledge of how the Serendib efreets came to possess two mouths, and how the nomads will walk forever upon our lands.

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The Hero's Tale

The following excerpt gives an interesting insight into the life of the famed Benalish hero. Usually, one glimpses these renowned warriors only when they are fully trained, as if they had risen full-formed from some god's imagination, the perfect warriors. But, of course, such perfection requires much work and sacrifice. The author of this note, Noira, is but at the beginning of her life's work. --Taysir

Dearest Mother,

We're allowed to send one letter this month, but by this time next year I should be able to write whenever I choose. So, you see, it is not my fault this is the first I've written you. There's so much to tell, and I've so little time. Let's see . . . .

The city of Benalia is huge! Before I arrived here six moons ago I could never imagine such a place existed. Even from the highest of the council's towers at its center, it's impossible to see the city's edges. The census-takers claim there are more than two hundred thousand people here. Can you imagine?

It's funny. We've been learning history until my mind feels as if it's been danced on by the ghost of Tobias Andrion himself! We haven't truly begun arms training yet. In fact, I haven't touched a weapon more fierce than my eating dagger since I arrived. But every morning we practice a strange battle-dance that our instructor, Hero Tavin, promises will make us into the most graceful and deadly of warriors. Hero Tavin says it is the basis for the Fei' th Drange (that's "Soul Dance" in Sheoltun -- See? I have been learning.) The Fei' th Drange is a particularly deadly battle-form only taught to heroes of Benalia. I am honored to learn such a form, but I wish we'd get on to using weapons again!

We've also begun studying philosophy with Hero Wynne. I think the most important thing I've learned so far is that we are the chosen of the gods. Hero Wynne says that the gods' breath graced our brows even before our mothers'. This is why the gods call upon us so often to battle for them wheresoever they need. We must be ready for the call every moment of our lives. Sometimes I'm frightened to think about that . . . but, it's exciting and important too, don't you think?

Hmmm . . . . What else can I tell you? Well, the "blackguards" are a bit odd, but they're not so bad once you get to know them. They're all children of commoners (well, at least one commoner) but they're allowed into the ranks of the heroes anyway. They start younger than us--some aren't even ten when they begin training--and they always wear black leather and go about with shaved heads. They can't grow their hair until they graduate, and even then most of them keep their heads shorn. Some of my friends here think the blackguards are arrogant, but I bet they think the same of us.

I haven't gotten my hero's tattoo yet; I know you were wondering about that. We won't receive them until after our second year of training. So, I wear my clan tattoo, but nothing else yet.

Hug Derryn and give Kitten a treat for me!

Love,

Noira

P.S. I've still got the boar's-hair charm you gave me. So far, its luck is strong!

 

 

Encyclopedia Dominia: Early Volumes II - History of Benalia

 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 History of Benalia with added footnotes of historians restored!  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.  

Editor's note:  The 'references' were added in line, but were links to comments as if references in actual notes for an Encyclopedia listed.  

History of Benalia

Benalia is a complex and ever-growing society. In some ways it reminds me of a robust organism, bursting with health. But whether this organism that is Benalia is the heart of Dominaria or merely a cancer upon the land is still in question. Still, this brief treatise, by one of Benalia's clan historians, gives the reader some idea of the nature and origins of Benalish politics, and of the relationship of the seven great clans to one another. --Taysir

On Recent History and the Glory that is Benalia Under the August Leadership of Tamira of Rosecot.
This treatise is humbly presented by Varren, Historian of Clan Rosecot (with additional commentary by Vola, Historian of Clan Deniz; Ebenin, Historian of Clan Tarmula; Fannia, Historian of Clan Ternsev; Cl'eueth, Historian of Clan Capashen; Sytryr, Historian of Clan Joryev; and Havram, Historian of Clan Croger).

As is doubtless already known by those citizens of the empire who live in the capital of Benalia itself, in recent years the leadership of our nation has undergone some restructuring. However, just as doubtless, those citizens not living within sight of the Seven Pillars may not have had opportunity to learn of the Seven Clans' wise accord. As Council Leader Tamira's appointed historian, it is my duty--and my pleasure--to inform all of Benalia of the clans' most recent actions.

But first, a brief overview of pertinent facts leading up to our present glory. [Ref 1]

[Ref 1: The accuracy of Varren's comments is at issue here. There is little evidence that Sheoltun fell swiftly; in fact many documents point to the reverse. He is merely engaging in academic hyperbole for the sake of drama. --Ebenin

One must look outside one's own clan records to learn truth, Ebenin. --Varren

Multiple interpretations of any ancient facts are, in and of themselves, worthy of introduction into discussion, gentlemen. --Vola]

Geography

Ever since Torsten Von Ursus first took up the reins of the great horse Civilization and guided our ancestors out of the ruins of the once-grand Sheoltun Empire, Benalia has been a nation set on a path towards greatness. Even the name Torsten chose for us--Benalia, or "aspiration"--proclaims our intent to the world. Our empire grew in power and size even more rapidly than that of Sheoltun once fell. [Ref 2]

[Ref 2: Once, the Avenant and their peerless archers were a part of our nation, but an unwise Joryev leader insulted the Avenant and we lost the isle. --Fannia

Actually, according to our clan records, it was a Ternsev leader who fell in lust with an Avenant prince's daughter. She did not take well to her kidnapping, and neither did her father. --Sytryr]

Today Benalia stretches from the Spice Isles to the west, matchless in their wealth, to the metal-rich Red Iron Mountains to the east, the Kb'Briann Highlands to the south, and the edge of the Avenant Isle to the north. [Ref 3]

[Ref 3: Once, the Avenant and their peerless archers were a part of our nation, but an unwise Joryev leader insulted the Avenant and we lost the isle. --Fannia

Actually, according to our clan records, it was a Ternsev leader who fell in lust with an Avenant prince's daughter. She did not take well to her kidnapping, and neither did her father. --Sytryr]

Political History

At Torsten's death, his seven lieutenants read the words of instruction their great leader left them. To which of his lieutenants would Torsten pass the reins of leadership? Though the exact wording of this Lost Edict is lost to us, we know the outcome: Torsten chose none of these followers--and all of them.

Under the watchful gaze of three priests of the Church of Angelfire, the lieutenants argued for seven days and as many nights over the true meaning of their dead leader's instructions. Finally, they came to an understanding, and on the eighth morning they addressed the crowds, still dressed in the red of mourning, who waited impatiently outside the temple where the lieutenants had met.

"From this day forward," Ilyana of Rosecot proclaimed,[Ref 4] "we and our families all take on the mantle of responsibility for this greatest of nations. The Seven Clans, as Torsten has written we are to be known, will each lead our nation for one lunar year; the head of that clan will rule all Benalia as well. At the start of each lunar year, our positions will rotate, so that the clan that the previous year was most prestigious is the next year the least of the Seven."[Ref 5]

[Ref 4: Once again, Varren interprets the situation instead of conveying fact. It is unclear just which clan leader first spoke on that historic day. --Cl'eueth

Rosecot is mentioned more often than any other clan, Cl'eueth. --Varren

Only if one counts your clan's handful of "contemporaneous" accounts written over two hundred years later by so-called twiceborn clan members claiming to have seen the ceremony with their own eyes. Only Rosecot gives such claims any credence. --Vola]

[Ref 5: Some students of Von Ursus believe the great leader designed this system to keep any one clan from seizing power, as no one leader could truly fill Torsten's shoes. --Cl'eueth

Still others say he was merely trying to force the issue of leadership, so that one clan would have to compel the others to obedience. If so, his plan failed. --Vola

And yet others claim the entire document was a joke written by Torsten's fool and mistaken for a last declaration by even-more foolish priests. --Fannia]

Clan Membership and Standing

An ancient legend has it that the gods fought for years over the stars in the sky, with each god claiming the sparkling treasures for him- or herself. This quarrel grew more and more grave until some of the gods began to destroy stars rather than let a rival lay claim to them. Finally, one wise godling suggested casting stars across the heavens: Whatever was covered by stardust from each god's throw would belong to that god. Since all the gods believed that they would be superior in any such endeavor, they all swore to abide by its results. Today, when we see the summer star-showers, we know the gods are reenacting their famous contest.[Ref 6]

[Ref 6: A variant of this--a superiorly documented variant, I might add--speaks of the gods drawing comets to choose which constellations would belong to them. --Ebenin]

And thus each god cast his or her stars, and each claimed to have received the best of the glittering sky-jewels for his or her own. At that time, each god also declared a people to be his or her personal charge (unlike today, when the gods have turned to matters of greater import). Thus, any child born under that god's constellations belonged to that god.

Since before the days of the Sheoltun Empire's grandeur, the great families of northwestern Central Aerona have looked to the stars to determine whether a child belongs to them or to some other great family. In later years, only the noble families followed this tradition. Today, such birth-blessing belongs only to the Seven Clans, each striving to ensure its children are born in an appropriate month. Still, accidents happen, and those born outside the assigned time become members of their star-clans (as opposed to birth-clans) upon reaching the age of twelve. Such an accidental birth is always cause for grief.[Ref 7]

[Ref 7: The practice of star-birth determining clan membership is not as counterproductive as it might first appear. Many cross-clan allegiances--sometimes the only things keeping one clan from another's throat--are only made due to a fortunately placed person with mixed birth- and star-clans. --Havram]

Modern Benalia

Today, each of the Seven Clans takes responsibility for a certain area of government--the treasury, navy, army, etc.--while one clan holds leadership of Benalia for the year. A catalog of the exact grouping of responsibilities is available for perusal in the government archives, in Benalia.

And so we move into the next era of Benalish leadership, the largest and most productive society on all of Aerona. Our leaders are to be commended for their judicious decisions, achieved through reasoned consensus, not brute force, as is the unfortunate habit of the leaders of some of our neighboring countries. [Ref 8]

[Ref 8: "Reasoned consensus" is, again, a relative term. Do you call three poisonings, one stabbing, and uncounted bribes, blackmail attempts, and threats "reasoned"? --Vola

There is little, if any, documentation of such "facts," Vola. --Varren]

 

Encyclopedia Dominia: Early Volumes I

 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 are Tande's Journal and the City of Brass.  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. 

Tande's Journal

Although the mage Tande is perhaps best known for his musings on the principles of artifact consciousness, this particular journal entry is far more pragmatic--and at the same time more fantastical--than his other known writings. Scholars differ strongly on whether Tande and his lover Trebecia actually visited Phyrexia, or whether the entire story is a hoax or a particularly vivid fever dream. After all, Tande was bedridden for almost two years with a mysterious illness around the time he scribed this entry.--Taysir

As I write these words it seems a wonder that my hand can hold even the weight of my quill. Until a few hours ago I was convinced that the impressions of the past day and night would forever be carved into my mind. Yet, already the jagged, knife-edged memories begin to blur. Perhaps it is my mind protecting my sanity? For I am certain no man could carry these images in his mind and not lose himself to the horror. I must record now what I have seen, while it is still clear.

Two days ago I was just entering my workroom when I witnessed my love, Trebecia, an artificer like myself, fall through a Phyrexian portal. Phyrexia, that dreadful plane, is a place I have long known of, and debated and discussed with other artificers. How and why the portal opened I still do not know, but I managed to throw myself through before it closed.

And thus did I enter Hell.

I must have lost consciousness, for I remember nothing of the passage. I awoke lying in a bed of strange silvery vines. If I hadn't been wearing several layers of woolen clothes, the sharp edges of the almost metallic leaves would surely have sliced my skin. As it was, I had to abandon my outer tunic, shredded in my efforts to extract myself from the strange plants.

I looked around in an attempt to regain my bearings. But how can any sane man find his bearings in an insane world? A soot-streaked sky lowered over a broad, dusty plain spotted with clumps of oily trees that could as easily have been machines as plants. A small stream meandered nearby. Apart from myself and the lethargic stream, this plain was silent and stifling and still; the omnipresent haze of grime gummed even the air itself, which left its foul reek as residue in my mouth.

I bent down on one knee to splash water on my face. But I immediately changed my plan, for the water in the stream was slick with oil, while congealed soot clung tenaciously to its rocky bed. Rubbing at the tacky coating with my sleeves only smeared it deep into my pores, and I could feel airborne grit building up on my palms and fingers.

Stumbling away from the stream, I looked down to find in the glittering, sticky soil a series of human footprints staggering away across the plain, as though made by one moving hesitantly. I immediately forgot my own fear at the thought of Trebecia wandering this place alone.

I jogged rapidly across the filthy land, maneuvering around piles of cogs and gears, and the rusting remains of tormented artifacts. Several saurian creatures wandered in the distance, their immense bodies glistening with oil, their motions easy and fluid in the oppressive stillness. They struck me as being both organic and mechanical, as if they were machines grown instead of made. I passed perhaps three, perhaps four of these monstrosities as I crossed the charnel plain.

Although occasionally it seemed that fierce red eyes glowered at me from clumps of metallic vegetation, the only other creature I encountered on the dark plain was a dragon engine. Of course, I have seen a number of the engines Mishra created. Yet none of those clumsy creatures could compare with the lithe form before me. As sinuous and quick as any dragon of flesh and blood, the creature was still, quite obviously, a machine. There is such a thing as horrible beauty, and this personified it.

Moving on, I soon reached a tunnel piercing the very heart of the plain. Here my heart fell, for now Trebecia's footsteps were echoed by those of smaller, clawed feet. A foul, hot wind from the tunnel had obscured those prints closest to its opening, but their implication was inescapable: at least half a dozen creatures had surrounded Trebecia. Their footprints replaced hers en route to the tunnel entrance.

Praying to every god I had ever heard of, I entered the heart of darkness.

The tunnel wound downwards for what seemed hours. My eyes wept constantly, and my skin alternately itched and burned in the choking exhaust that flowed over and past me. Sweat and tears barely kept my vision clear, but finally, I emerged, dazed and half-blind, my lungs burning with sulfur, on another part of Phyrexia. It was as if the tunnel burrowed through this hellish plane to reveal a second layer inside the first. The land I now faced was different from the dread plain above. Here the air burned even hotter, an almost palpable weight to my seared lungs. Within moments, I was indistinguishable from the rest of the blackened, blasted landscape.

Of course, there was no true sky. Instead, twisted beams and metal structures formed a dark ceiling high above my head. Red light spilled balefully across the rusted, pitted metal, casting twisted shadows that somehow managed to look like scenes of torture. The light itself came from vast, smoke-grimed chimneys thrusting upwards almost to the ceiling-sky above. Fire and soot spewed from their tops, and in some unrepaired spots, long fingers of fire scratched through cracks, as if a terrible flame beast sought escape from its metallic prison.

Ignoring the horror of my surroundings as best I could, I followed the small pack of renewed footprints. They led me easily through the ashen wastes, filled with random and numerous piles of broken machinery. Though lighter than the soil above, this ash had been so compressed by the company's passage that not even the constant streaming of the foul air could disturb it.

Somehow I traversed that expanse without stumbling upon any other creatures. Cries and grinding movement echoed near me several times, but never did an actual beast move close enough to distinguish itself from the clouds of soot and ash.

Once again the footprints led me to a tunnel, and once again I followed them. The tunnel floor soon grew rough, and as I neared its end, pipes and tubing also sprouted from the floor, causing me to often stumble and fall. I soon took to crawling like an animal.

At the end of this latest journey I looked out upon a massive labyrinth of ancient metal pipes and beams, begrimed with congealed oil. Staring at the vast, confusing network below me, I at first despaired of following Trebecia and her abductors. Then my eye was caught by one small piece of pale blue cloth, crammed into the juncture of two pipes. Looking further, I saw another piece of cloth. Trebecia was alive! She was leaving me a way to find her through the infernal maze.

Steeling myself, I pressed forward. Even with Trebecia's aid, the journey was terrible: there were brief stretches when I could walk upright, or even slightly hunched, but these infrequent breaks merely underscored the wretchedness of my sojourn. I was often forced to navigate pipe junctures that left hardly enough room for a man to pass. Sometimes I could only partially expand my chest, which made breathing the hot, fetid air still more difficult. I spent an eternity inside a broken segment of pipe without being able to move at all, staring at the hard, close darkness around me while my own pulse boomed in my ears. Had I not been coated in oily grime, I would be there still--but I eventually dragged myself free like a snake shedding its skin.

I know I called upon my magic more than once to survive the long hours, but just what spells I can no longer recall. My thoughts crawl with images of corpses hanging from chains and shoved into tubing; a child-sized figure splayed across a mammoth pipe; two men--one blond, the other dark--forever struggling, each clutching the other's throat; a single skeletal hand reaching out to me from blackness.

I can write no more of this. Suffice it to say that I did, at last, reach another tunnel. For the last time, I went deeper.

Phyrexia undoubtedly contains more rotting spheres, but I at last found Trebecia within the fourth. This one reminded me of a burned-out mansion I once hid within as a child. Everywhere hollowed, decaying structures loomed, while a constant drizzle of oil rained down. Instead of celestial bodies, there were cogs and wheels, gears and clockworks, hanging like macabre trophies from the rusted piping overhead. Fitful bursts of light emanated from the furnaces that dotted the landscape. Their cheerless illumination only served to emphasize the utter blackness of this terrible realm.

And the noise! As the sights reminded me of ruins from my childhood, so the sounds were that constant, jarring din that frightened children hear in fever dreams. Around me, all whirred and crunched fruitlessly, constant creaks and groans producing a ceaseless, agonizing cacophony.

I believe if I had not heard my love's cries only moments after I entered this plane, I would have gone mad. But Trebecia's voice formed a net around my soul, and I followed the strands as desperately as any drowning man ever clung to the rescuer's rope.

When I found Trebecia she was surrounded by over a dozen coal-black creatures with gleaming red eyes and soot-encrusted teeth. These Phyrexian gremlins constantly gibbered, occasionally turning on one another, biting and clawing their neighbors. Several of the feral creatures held tightly to Trebecia, but their true attention seemed focused on a tall, twisted being at their center. It was motionless, but I did not trust it to remain so. The gremlins were a chittering swarm at its feet, kneeling and falling over one another in obscene and frenzied supplication.

Viewing such chaotic motion, unable to separate the creatures' endless chatter from the discordant whine of machinery overhead, I began to sicken and swoon. As I stumbled, I spied the partial and still functioning remains of a hapless brass man between the gremlins and their totem. Although the brass man still seemed conscious, its struggles grew weaker still as I neared the awful scene. With a dreadful certainty I knew that this token offering would soon be replaced with one of considerably more value to their masters . . . and immeasurably more value to me.

At my approach, the gremlins took up a concerted howl of discovery. The pack had at last noticed my presence. As they came away from their ritual, I clearly saw the statue of the Yawgmoth demon they were capering beneath. Its eyes flashed as it grinned at me, though I could not determine if it had always been so oriented, or if the terrible head had actually swiveled to greet me. Meeting its eyes, I was seized with a terrible knowledge: that one day Phyrexia would rise up to yoke all planes to its dark designs.

I truly don't remember how Trebecia and I fought our way through the gremlins to the dying brass man's side. If I had not been granted the sight of her struggling to break free, I daresay I could not have done the same. Snatching up an unfortunate gremlin that had not survived the encounter (or perhaps it had not succumbed to the orgy of worship--I am still unsure), we bound its flesh and the brass man's body in dread ritual. A portal opened before us.

And then we were home.

I know this last piece of narrative makes even less sense than the first, but I can only relate what my poor mind remembers. Even now, the healers come for me. Although they say we will both live, I can tell they are concerned for us. They may even believe us mad. Perhaps we are. But if Phyrexia is madness, then I believe that madness exists within each of us. 

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The City of Brass

by She Who Watches

It should come as no surprise that the first tales I gathered to place in my encyclopedia come from my birthplace, Rabiah. I find this tale compelling because it leaves the reader with several tantalizing references to a place of power that lies on the cusp of a plane. Of course, it is also a tale of high passion and pain, and my youthful self knew too well where such emotions can lead. -Taysir

While a memory lives, so shall its maker. . . . For those of us who tell stories and write down the great and infamous doings of our people, these words carry greater weight than a hundredfold gold bars. Today, my tale is brief; the lesson drawn from it perhaps a bit longer, perhaps twice as short. Only my readers will know.

Princess Fatima was the wealthiest of women. She had riches galore, camels and silks, and a lover who was one of the most powerful men in her kingdom. She also was rich in magic. In Fatima's land as in many of our backward kingdoms, women have little control over their own lives. Their husband or father controls them. But Fatima's father was dead, no uncles or brothers lived, and she had not yet married. Every night, Fatima whispered in the ear of her lover, al-Abin, "Ask me not to marry you, and I will love you forever." To which al-Abin would reply, "Do not marry me, dear one."

For months, their strange arrangement lasted, until one night Fatima whispered, "Ask me not to marry you, and I will love you forever." To which al-Abin replied, "Marry me and make me the happiest of men." Furious, Fatima declared that she would never marry him. Despite al-Abin's begging, Fatima remained adamant. That very night her lover left Fatima for good.

Furious at al-Abin and the land that birthed him, Fatima went into a rage that lasted for days. At the end of this time, she turned all of her attention to her magic. Determined to build a place where none would ever dare disturb her, Fatima chose to create a City of Brass that blazed with the heat of her fury.

With every month she worked on her city, Fatima's power grew until it was so great she could stride across the planes and leave her people behind. She moved her city to the very farthest edges of Rabiah, where she worked in complete solitude. Yet, after a number of years, Fatima felt a touch of loneliness. Although she did not wish to see her people again, she wished some companionship. Thus, Fatima built the first of the Brass Men.

Fatima cared deeply for her brass creations, who bore the grief she never allowed herself to feel and thus often stopped to mourn after performing any task. As was her city, her brass men were cold as al-Abin's betrayal and hot as Fatima's wrath. Yet they were--and are--her children, and Fatima loves them to this day.

Go not to the City of Brass, unless you can bear great pain. For if you venture within its molten walls you will find yourself burned by the heat of its fires and by the rage and grief of its lone mistress.

 

Lore Compilation for Dominaria United

We return once again, to the hub of the multiverse: Dominaria!  The world connected and the center of all.  Please see our main compilations page for more articles of the history of Dominaria, and past lore from the 2018 expansion.  

 

Planeswalker's Guide To Dominaria United. 

The Legends for Dominaria United.

 

Main Story: 

1. Echoes in the Dark  Karn discovers his worst fears. 

2. Sand in the Hourglass Karn attempts to warn his friends and planeswalkers, with peril

3. The Locked Tower Karn assists in determining who the sleeper agent is.

4. A Brutal Blow The planeswalkers gather forces to draw the Phyrexians on Dominaria out

5. Whispers in the Wind The final battle on Dominaria, and a terrible revelation!

Side Stories: 

 Homecoming - for Liliana, or fans?

The Education of Ulf - in the Tolarian Academy West

Death and Salvation - Squee's future and past reunite

Shades and Nightmares - Darker and Darker

Faith in Birds - Femeref has troubled decisions to make

Synopsis: 

Karn is seeking answers on how to properly use the Golgothian Sylex, in the Caves of Koilos, when he stumbles upon a Phyrexian staging ground.  He attacks and attempts to kill Sheoldred alone, but is defeated by Rona and burned under rock, until Ajani manages to find and uncover him.  He returns to Argive to learn that Jodah and Jaya are helping negotiate an alliance between Keld and Benalia, but when Teferi interrupts with news of Phyrexians, the sleeper agents from New Argive attack. Ajani gives chase to save Aron Capashen, but Karn, Jodah, Teferi, Jaya, and Stenn (the negotiator) are stuck trying to capture the spy among them in the tower.  It's Stenn, and Karn uses deception to draw him out, despite much of New Argive being corrupted already by Phyrexians.  

The walkers call the Weatherlight and they split up to request help to draw out the Phyrexians (with the Sylex as bait, as well as the Mana Rig in Shiv).  There are multiple larger skirmishes, and many races and peoples battle or seek protection (see the side stories), including Squee and his band of goblins being corrupted by Phyrexians and the return of Ertai.  

Even the Weatherlight with its Thran based engine is corrupted into a Phyrexian machine.  The final battle begins, with the Dominarians hard pressed - but they seem to have won until Ajani is revealed to be a sleeper agent Phyrexian (without his awareness), and he destroys the Sylex, kills Jaya, and he and Sheoldred kidnap Karn to Phyrexia.  Otherwise, the Dominarians are victorious in their battle for their plane, for now... 

Videos: 

Building worlds: Dominaria

  

Official Teaser

 

Other Lore:

 Wizards took out an obituary for Jaya Ballard in the Seattle Times Newspaper:

You can also see her respects page at Jayaballard.com

Who the Raven Man is, by Jay Annelli

The r/mtgVorthos subreddit had the preview for Lagamos, and released a fan soundtrack for him, by u/TheDaviday 

Did you see the scroll made for the Korean Magic community?  It's got quite that style!

A header image from Instagram, showcasing the face off in a different way! 

In Australia, Wizards partnered with a Boba company for special drinks!

In Kuala Lampur - KakiTabletop was sent a special media package!  With a map of Dominiaria with notes both of Phyrexia and the Coalition! https://www.instagram.com/p/CiiCd2dJrl5/  Read the whole map on their blog: https://kakitabletop.com/lets-talk-about-dominaria-united/ 

They deciphered the texts: 

Traveller, it is destined that you delve into my humble writings and observations that I have collected over the years. Not all which is written are as it seems, and I am certain you will find the truth.

Coalition	Phyrexian
Dominaria contains the evidence of ___ ancient artefacts scattered in ruins across the landscape. Their function is often a mystery to the people living amongst them. Dominarians live in the shadows of the past.
Dotted with islands and populated by merfolk, the Voda Sea is the crossroads of Dominaria. On its western edge, bordered by the continent of Aerona, which is home to Benalia, the foremost military and economic power on the plane. The forest of Llanowar, populated by ___ elves ___, live just south of Benalia, ___ by the goblins and orcs of the Ironclaw Mountains.	THE UNWORTHY WILL BE PURGED. GAZE UPON THE PERFECTION OF FILIGREE THAT MARKS THE GRATEFUL FLESH WITH INTRICATE SCARS.
The northern extent of the Voda Sea is Stahaan, which is home to a ___ ___ minotaur society.
North and east of Jamuraa stretches Dominaria’s largest ocean, ___ called the Great Ocean. The fiery land of Shiv is northeast of Jamuraa – a rocky and mountainous place inhabited by dragons, the reptilian Viashino, and goblins.	YOUR TRUEST SELF WILL BE REVEALED. IT IS NOT ONE YOU KNEW, BUT INSTEAD ONE THAT YOU MUST FOLLOW.
The humans of Shiv, the Ghitu are largely nomadic. Shiv is also notable for the ruins of an ancient factory, the Thran Mana Rig, which remains capable of producing powerful magic.	BRASS AND BONE, STEEL AND SINEW, WITH THE CLARITY OF VISION AND PURPOSE, COMES CLARITY OF FUNCTION. THAT IS PERFECTION.
Gulmany is separated from New Argive by the Sea of Laments, and from Almaaz by the Sea of Almaaz. Far ___ to the south of Terisiare, the continent of Sarpadia is rumoured to be lost to civilized habitation.	THE GOD OF WASTE IS CALLING. FATHER OF MACHINES. HIS BRETHREN LIE IN WAIT. THEY ARE MANY.
Millenia ago, the artificer brothers Urza and Mishra discovered the secrets of the Thran ___ in a network of caves called Koilos. This marked the beginning of Phyrexian influence on Dominaria. Farthest east lies New Argive, a kingdom of scholars and artificers who ___ learning above all else.
Terisiare lies east of Otaria and west of the Spice Isles. Once a continent, Terisiare has been shattered into five great islands and many smaller ones by the destruction wrought during the Brother’s War and the Ice Age.	YAWGMOTH WILL RETURN. THE WEAK MUST BE PURGED. AWAKEN AGENT. WE EXIST TO CEASE. ASH IS OUR AIR. DARKNESS OUR FLESH. WE RISE ONCE MORE, IT HAS BEGUN.
The Kukemssa Sea stretches to the northwest of Zhalfir, east of the Burning Isles. The island-continent of Corondor is situated just to the north of Jamuraa, and it is ___ entangled in Zhalfir’s history. Southwest of Jamuraa is the island of Madara, home to the Umezawa family and the Talon Gates where Nicol Bolas long ago defeated a primordial, godlike leviathan and ___ ___ he was resurrected after his defeat.

(All translated deciphered text is credit to kakitabletop!)  Please visit their site for more cool images or the photos of the box!)

Did we miss anything?  We'd love to continue to compile all art and lore from the new Dominaria set!

Encyclopedia Dominia Sections E-Y

 Here is the second part of the restoration of the Encyclopedia Dominia, from the pre-revisionist lore days of Magic: The Gathering.  The Planeswalker Taysir's work at making the Encyclopedia Dominia continues here, for your reading enjoyment.  

 You may read the first part here. 

FlyinFlying Carpet: Only planeswalkers may create flying carpets with relative ease. Lesser magic-workers must spend endless hours weaving together the delicate strands and complicated patterns that tie the magic of flight to these valuable objects. Most flying carpets are one adult armspan wide by two armspans long, and can support only one person. However, there are rumors of ancient carpets capable of carrying objects as large as a bull elephant.

Freyalise: This beautiful half-elven planeswalker is most noted for the tremendous spell she wove to end Dominaria's long Ice Age. Considered a goddess by the elves of Llanowar (who are unaware of her half-elven heritage), Freyalise is worshipped to this day by many of the residents of Dominaria. 

Goblin Kites: One of a multitude of artifacts of uniquely goblin manufacture, a goblin kite allows a small humanoid (roughly goblin-sized) to strap the winged contraption across its back and use it as a glider. Although goblins have been known to use these devices strategically in battle (some observers claim any "strategy" is merely the result of random luck), "reliable" is a word not often applied to the gliders.

Ironclaw Mountains: Home to the Ironclaw orcs and goblins, this mountain range forms the northeastern edge of central South Aerona. The Ironclaws are relatively mineral-rich, and the goblins and orcs who make their home here (along with scattered dwarven clans) use these minerals for trade. 

Kaervek: The Burning Isles seared their harsh ethos into the young Kaervek. A ruthless survivor, the mage Kaervek considers everything fair if it advances his cause. Until his recent imprisonment, Kaervek waged an extensive war to exert control over all of Jamuura. With the imprisonment of his enemy Mangara in the amber prison, Kaervek thought he might succeed in this goal. Now Kaervek lies within his own trap while all that remains of his once mighty armies are unorganized bands of roving undead. 

Llanowar Elves: Actually made up of eight major bloodlines, or elfhames, the elves of Llanowar are a relatively diverse lot. Since the Ice Age the Llanowar have had to protect their forest from the ravages of outsiders (who initially came seeking precious firewood). With the help of their goddess, the planeswalker Freyalise, the elves managed to keep their cultures intact throughout even the most desperate times.

The Llanowar elves stand between five-and-a-half and six feet in height. They are generally slender with pale, brown, or even metallic-colored hair. Their eyes are quite narrow and their teeth slightly pointed, giving the elves a feral appearance. Elves remain youthful looking throughout almost their entire lives, with only the ears hinting at their age (the longer the ears, the older the elf). Only in the last decade or so of an elf's life does he or she begin to show signs of aging. 

 Llanowar Forest: This gigantic, lush forest region in South Aerona ranges in width from several hundred miles to over a thousand miles across at its widest point. Home to eight major tribes of elves, or elfhames, the forest contains some of the most ancient trees in all of Aerona. Goblins and orcs almost never enter the forest (save on raids) since the elves are merciless towards these outsiders. Even trading humans, minotaurs, and the like only enter the forest with great caution (and normally seek permission first). 

Mangara: This powerful mage was a force for peace in Jamuura for many decades, that is until he was betrayed and imprisoned inside of a magical stone known as the amber prison. Mangara's disappearance destroyed the balance of power in Jamuura. Only his release could grant the land hope for relief from the assault of Kaervek's undead minions. 

Order of the Steel Leaf (See Llanowar Elves):  This militant band of Llanowar elves were first organized by the goddess-planeswalker Freyalise. Bound to serve her mission, the Steel Leaf helped turn the invaders away from Llanowar during the Ice Age, and have served as the forest's protectors ever since. The Order maintains a strict interpretation of Freyalise's sacred orders, and this rigidity has at times caused some internal conflict within Llanowar. 

All Steel Leaf wear a patch over one eye. Some of these patches were first bestowed by Freyalise; these are said to provide magical sight to the wearer, allowing him or her to see the true nature of any being. In addition to the eye patch, the Steel Leaf all sport tattoos and brightly dyed hair, often worn in mohawk fashion.  

Phyrexian gremlins are short, often hairy, ebon-black beings who serve the will of the Yawgmoth priests and demons. With their fierce, glowing eyes and razor-sharp teeth, Phyrexian gremlins seem at best semi-intelligent servants. They evince an extreme, almost gleeful, excitement at the prospect of destroying artifacts and artificers, and descend en masse upon anyone unfortunate enough to stumble into their domain. 

Phyrexian Portal: The plane of Phyrexia is only accessible through a series of magical gates and portals. Such planar apertures are usually opened through the sacrifice of either creatures or artifacts. However, at times the sacrifice of a great deal of magical energy or knowledge will also open one of these portals. Unfortunately, any individual opening such a portal may find the sacrifice required is far different, and far more dear, than he or she ever imagined. 

Phyrexia (Plane): The dark plane of Phyrexia is a place few beings other than the foul natives of this plane have ever had the misfortune to visit. Creatures living in Phyrexia include Yawgmoth demons, Phyrexian gremlins, and numerous artifact-slaves. 

Phyrexia is often called "the final Hell for artifacts." Its skies are filled with soot and smog, with the constant sound of grinding cogs and screeching metal tormenting the air. Unimaginably large furnaces throw ash and fire into the skies, illuminating in their harsh red glare the tortures of the artifacts trapped here. The plane itself is formed from multiple hollow spheres, each darker and more horrid than the last. Although legend says the true fiend Yawgmoth lives in the innermost sphere, there is no one known who can confirm this tale.  

Purraj of Urborg: This intense female cat warrior was a legendary assassin whose ability to kill silently was unrivaled. Although Purraj viewed herself as a leader of her kind, many cat warriors only followed Purraj out of fear. Purraj's last mission, before her disappearance and presumed death, was the guardianship of the captured mage Mangara and his jail, the amber prison. 

Rabiah (Plane): Rabiah the Infinite is a multifaceted jewel in the realm of Dominia. In ancient days, Rabiah split and refracted across a thousand and one planes. For every refraction, a new Rabiah sprung up, identical to the original. It is for this reason Rabiah is known as "the Infinite."

Of course, over the centuries each Rabiah developed an identity of its own, and today individual Rabiahs may differ dramatically from one another. However, there are some general features that are consistent across almost all variations of this wondrous place.

Rabiah is a desert world. Where Rabiah's plane touches another plane, the sere environment often begins to "infect" its neighbor. However, that seldom worries Rabiah's inhabitants, since they are hardy desert dwellers. Planar links in Rabiah often appear in the form of giant desert twister's. Such a maelstrom violently propels any who venture near it into whatever plane that gate links to.

Although most Rabian cultures are patriarchal and Arabic in feel, the vast range of Rabiahs also includes matriarchies and even a realm of horrific evil rivaling Phyrexia itself for sheer despair and terror. 

Rashida Scalebane: This idle young Zhalfiran woman grew up quickly when several dragons decimated her village, killing Rashida's entire family as well as all her friends. Rashida's anguish quickly turned to rage, and the new warrior vowed to slay all dragons for the harm they did Rashida's village and family. After some struggle, Rashida discovered the location of her family's ancient relic -- a banesword. She dedicated the sword to the slaying of dragons, renaming it Scalebane, so that she could set about avenging her family. As witnesses attest, Rashida is amazingly quick and powerful when fighting her sworn enemy. Already, this great warrior has slain more than a dozen dragons, turning their hides into armor for her warriors. Today, Rashida leads a powerful army dedicated to ridding Jamuura of the dark army of undead that threatens the country's very existence. 

Scalebane's Elite: These three warriors represent the best of the warrior-leader Rashida Scalebane's troops, hand-picked by Rashida to aid her in her quest to rescue the mage Mangara from the amber prison. There are few warriors in Jamuura with the courage, tenacity, and skill of these young fighters. 

Serendib Efreet: The Serendib efreets are a small group of air elementals seldom found anywhere but the plane of Rabiah. Giant pale humanoids with snow-white hair, the efreets are most striking for their double mouths and hooked left "hands," which, legend has it, were transformed long ago by a planeswalker in return for a service one of their kind once performed. Although the extra orifice adds to the efreets' frightening appearance, it does not have any particular function.

Serendib efreets often have bitter, vicious temperaments, although they will serve any who may summon or command them. Unfortunately, the Serendib are cursed and any who request their services will undoubtedly pay with the coin of their own pain and suffering. If anything, the Serendib seem to enjoy this collateral anguish.

Editor's note: The Serendib efreets are closely related to the larger, even more dangerous Serendib Djinns. The djinns also curse those who dare to summon them, although they seem far more interested in creating ever vaster areas of wasteland in the already arid realms they inhabit. 

The Spirit of the Night is a terrible creature that seems part cat, part unspeakable horror. An almost unstoppable killing machine, the Spirit of the Night leaves only death and destruction in its wake. Although there are few recorded incidents of the Spirit of the Night appearing on Dominaria, the entire Femeref grand assembly, known as the Council of Voices, is thought to have been slaughtered by this being last year. Only the Breathstealers guild is said to possess both the knowledge and desire to summon this dreaded being. 

Telim Tor: A Suq'Ata nobleman by birth, Telim'Tor earned his fame as a military leader when he brought back some important maps lost in the Ekendu mountains. Although his troops were decimated in the effort, Telim explained that his elder brother who had originally lead the troops had caused the casualties. Only through Telim's bravery were the maps retrieved and any troops brought back alive. Although some people dispute this story, the mission earned Telim'Tor much glory. Today, Telim'Tor is respected (and feared) as a brutal, but inspiring general. His troops take no prisoners and Telim'Tor allows not the slightest infraction of rules by his soldiers. 

Tobias Andrion: Tobias Andrion was the most famed military administrator in the ancient Empire of Sheoltun. In the earlier, all-important military campaigns of Sheoltun, he was instrumental in establishing the young empire's military dominance over its neighbors. But his true legacy to Central Aerona was his successful campaign to eliminate the long-standing, organized piracy that once tyrannized the waves.

Although Sheoltun already held the mainland with an iron grip when Tobias was born, it was not yet established on the islands. Tobias dared to battle the legendary pirates of the Spice Isles, and, even more daringly, succeeded in turning the tide of the once-invincible raiders. Over the course of three decades, he ran the marauders down and destroyed even their most hidden fortresses. Unfortunately, Tobias was himself slain in an ambush by the captain and crew of the pirate ship Wavespawn.

Although the exact nature of Tobias's death varies widely from tale to tale, most stories suggest he was struck down by magical lightning. A terrible legend claims that Tobias was almost immediately reanimated, to dance upon the lifeless remains of his crew at the bottom of the ocean--a macabre dance he continues until this day. 

Torsten Von Ursus: Originally a member of the legendary Knights of Jenges, Torsten Von Ursus came from the country of Wrenna. After a terrible mage claimed the throne of Wrenna, this great warrior left his Order and traveled southwest. Torsten spent some time at the base of the Hurloon Mountains, and actually entered the dread land of the minotaurs after he had the opportunity to study one that had been captured. His belief that the minotaurs were more than savage beasts was revolutionary at the time (and is still revolutionary to the less educated among us).

After studying minotaur philosophy for several years, Torsten journeyed onwards. When he stumbled upon the blighted city of Benfosa, Torsten immediately realized that he had found his life's work. Benfosa was a perfect place to implement his gathered wisdom and social philosophies. Determined to change Benfosa into his vision of a proper nation, Torsten let nothing stand in his way--including the rather reluctant citizens of the newly renamed Benalia.

Using sometimes-brutal tactics, Torsten brought an entire nation into being using nothing more than the force of his will and the brutal charisma of the natural leader. After succeeding in much of his goal, Torsten died at the age of seventy-two, leaving behind him the legendary Lost Edict, which consigned Benalia to the alternating care of his seven lieutenants and their families. 

Yawgmoth Demons: Servants of the dread entity Yawgmoth, the Yawgmoth demons are intelligent beings that take great joy in constantly attempting to outdo one another in destroying artifacts. Some artificers claim the demons are preparing for the day when Yawgmoth releases them in a rampaging horde to destroy all the imperfect artifacts currently loose in Dominia. This final purge will, in turn, prepare the multiverse for the coming of Yawgmoth. 

Yawgmoth Priests: Yawgmoth priests venerate the entity Yawgmoth. Working in concert with lesser Yawgmoth demons, the priests conduct strange rituals to purge unfit artifacts from all realms of existence. When an artifact creature shows promise, though, the priests guide its evolution towards perfection.

 

This concludes the alphabetical entries to the Encyclopedia.  The next sections will catalog the Histories and fables section of the Encyclopedia. 

The Encyclopedia Dominia: Taysir's Journals and A-D

Dominia (not Dominaria) used to be the name of the magic multiverse.  For a time, in the pre-revisionist era of Magic, there was one planeswalker interested in catalog and study of the denizens and peoples of the various planes, and so, Taysir started and created the Encyclopedia Dominia.  Here we have recovered his progress on such a vast and monumental task, and have put forth all his notes and entries from it.  

Here is the first part of this restoration process.  

Taysir's Journals 

Entry 1: I have existed for thousands of years, one person amid a multitude too vast for even a planeswalker such as myself to comprehend. Yet each of this great throng, each person who exists upon any of the planes in Dominia, weaves his or her thread into the tapestry of history. Unfortunately, few beings can actually gain any perspective upon the worlds they live in or the peoples with which they live. Life is too short and the planes too vast.

Here I presume to take my experience and my knowledge, and set to paper history, legends, and tales from the immense array of cultures found in Dominia. Hopefully, others will come to gaze upon this collection and learn from it. Throughout these volumes I shall provide commentary, yet I vow to never censor the words of others within their own stories.

In my youth, I would not have had the patience for this lengthy task. But, having lived and died--and lived again--I have come to a greater understanding of the necessity for the quietest virtue.

Long ago I loved a woman with greater passion than any other man had ever loved . . . . Of course this isn't true--my love was no greater or lesser than any others, but I was then convinced of its unique worth. It brought me only grief because it was a selfish love that did not truly care about the woman at its center. Since that time, I have learned much.

I dedicate this compilation, which I shall call the Encyclopedia Dominia, to Kristina . . . and also to my adopted daughter, Daria. Both women are brilliant, and the fabric of the world is richer for the shining threads of their lives. 

Entry 2: While I sit among the creature comforts of my library, I can't help but muse upon how important our environment is to who we are.

Imagine, if you will, that I choose to clone a young mortal. The boy and his other self would be identical in all things. If, however, these two identical people were placed in very disparate environments, they would rapidly grow different from each other, no longer truly identical. For example, if one boy spent his time in a tranquil place where he faced nothing more terrible than the teasing of his siblings and the occasional minor injury, where all his physical and emotional needs were met, would not his character and personality reflect this environment? Would not the identity of the other boy, living in a place of constant want, with no one to care for him, grow (or wither) in very different ways?

A truly wonderful or terrible environment leaves a deep imprint indeed upon its inhabitants. The best and worst of places may even affect the other realms with which they coexist. Thus, the literature and myths of numerous cultures again and again reference certain places. One of these places is the realm known as Phyrexia, a black abyss of pain and terror. It is astounding that creatures manage to not only exist, but occasionally even thrive in this place of charnel smoke, metal, and ash; a place where the only light is belched forth by huge soot-spewing furnaces.

The impact of such an environment on any who spend time there is surely great. Undoubtedly the unrelenting misery crushes the bodies and spirits of most creatures, but it is also true that only in the hottest forges are the truest blades formed. Without adversity there is seldom heroism. Without evil, good is meaningless. Thus, I feel it is just as important to record the history and culture of a place such as Phyrexia as it is of one more palatable, such as Llanowar. 

 

Entry 3: I have spent many hours contemplating the way in which the elves of Llanowar have managed to create and maintain a world unto themselves. Though they do have some contact with their neighbors, the Llanowar have done a remarkable job of keeping other peoples and cultures from influencing their home. Some scholars claim it is the tremendous size of the forest that has long protected the elves, but although the forest of Llanowar is, indeed, quite vast, it is not in any way unique in its size. There are other elves in other vast forests throughout Dominia who have been much more "infected" by neighboring cultures.

There are reportedly up to ten separate elven cultures (or "elfhames," as the Llanowar term them) contained within this sprawling forest realm. Each of the elfhames supports in its own way the elves' desire to keep their culture and traditions safe from outside influence. Some elves disappear into the trees and rarely, if ever, venture from their homeland. Others trade with the outside world of humans, minotaurs, etc., but maintain a strict belief, grounded in religion, that they must keep some distance from other peoples in order to retain their mystical connection to nature and their forest home.

This isolationist philosophy is taken to its most disturbing extremes by the Order of the Steel Leaf, a select cadre of Llanowar said to have been first brought together by the goddess-planeswalker Freyalise herself. The Steel Leaf are zealous in their efforts to maintain the purity of Llanowar. To this day, any non-Llanowar risk their lives when entering territory controlled by the Order, which has been known to kill intruders (not merely goblins) without trial. A few arrows and the unfortunate strangers' bodies soon "feed the forest."

The Steel Leaf have even been known to direct their isolationist zeal against other Llanowar, for they disapprove of any cooperation or "collusion" with non-elves. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that someday the Order might turn their swords and arrows on those of their own people whom they consider traitors for consorting with outsiders.

In their fervor to preserve their people, will the Steel Leaf be the Llanowar's savior--or its executioner? 

 

 Main Encyclopedia Entries: 

The Amber Prison: This magical golden stone fits easily in the palm of a large man's hand. Although small, the amber prison contains great power. When wielded by a mage, the prison is capable of trapping a single being (of any size) in its amber depths. The unfortunate prisoner remains in stasis for as long as he or she is trapped in the prison. Although the prisoner apparently retains some vague, dreamlike awareness, time has little if any affect on the physical body. Upon release, the prisoner appears exactly as he or she did at the moment of imprisonment. 

 Asmira, Holy Avenger: Since her youth, Asmira has possessed the gift of prophecy. Although in recent years this gift has grown stronger, even Asmira's early teachers -- Femeref priests -- recognized her ability. Detesting violence and loving all the peoples and lands of Jamuura equally with all her being, Asmira has recently become the reluctant head of the Femeref resistance to Kaervek's advance. Although many Femeref cities have fallen, Asmira remains a shining example of goodness and hope to all the people of Jamuura. Her devotion to Jamuura and her will to see this terrible war ended have forged Asmira into a Holy Warrior of unparalleled skill and power. 

Bassorah is one of the most established cities in all of Rabiah, found in the vast majority of the plane's incarnations. Bassorah boasts a tremendous variety of inhabitants (from bird maidens, to desert nomads, to gypsies) and a truly stupendous bazaar, known for the vast array of merchandise one can find there. Only the Bazaar of Baghdad is larger, and it does not have the same curious variety of goods.

Strange items from other planes somehow make their way into a Bassoran merchant's stall. Often even the merchant has no idea where he picked up an item. Such finds are often called "Shahrazad's gifts" due to their uncanny tendency to fall into the hands of those who most need them.

Bird Maidens: Although bird maidens are found in other lands of Dominia, Rabiah is almost assuredly their true home. A beautiful, flying race of humanoids, bird maidens, as their name implies, are always female. They make their sparse homes high in the craggy caves and outcroppings of rock created by the constant winds and updrafts of the deserts.

One of the more curious arts the bird maidens practice is wind sculpting. Talented maidens place diamond dust in sharply funneled bone tubes, which they tie to rock formations. As the wind blows the dust against the stone, the rock erodes faster than usual. Over the course of several--even tens of--years, the sculpture appears.

Bird maidens mate with humans, and the resulting offspring is either bird maiden if female, or human if male. The human children are given back to their community, while the females are raised by the maidens. All bird maiden births are twins, and all twins are of the same gender. Bird maidens hold their birth-sisters extremely dear, although they seldom feel true kinship to their other siblings. Legends abound about the male offspring's exceptional strength, luck, and magical talent, which is why any village finding abandoned twin boys will almost invariably adopt and honor them.

Brass Man: Clumsy and slow, the brass men are mechanical-magical constructs of limited intellect. Although phenomenally tough and capable of withstanding extremes of temperature and weather, the brass men suffer from a strange malaise. Any action they take seems to use extreme effort, and no brass man will function long without intermittent, regular infusions of mana. Is this a flaw in their initial construction, or in their very nature? Such questions are for planeswalkers and wise ones, and outside the scope of this encyclopedia. 

Breathstealers: The Breathstealers are an ancient assassin guild from Urborg known for their ability to kill with complete accuracy and utter silence. In fact, the Breathstealers pride themselves on being able to kill a man without waking his wife sleeping beside him. The Breathstealers are currently insinuating themselves into Suq'Ata society, and although silent, these killers may be an even greater danger to the noble Suq'Ata than Kaervek's armies. The Breathstealers can work minor magics, including controlling certain darling creatures, and they worship a terrible force known as the Spirit of the Night. It is the ultimate honor for a Breathstealer to sacrifice himself to become part of the Spirit of the Night made manifest. 

The Church of Angelfire is perhaps the most popular church in present-day Benalia. Upwards of twenty percent of Benalkin (a term used by Benalish to describe themselves, particularly within the city of Benalia) proclaim themselves to be worshippers of Angelfire.

The church is named for the legendary warrior Gabriel Angelfire, whose spirit, it is claimed, burns on to this day. The main altar of every Angelfire church glows with the peculiar red-green candlelight of this "spirit-flame." The candles are thought to represent Gabriel's indomitable will, and are almost impossible to snuff once lit. The candle-making formula is considered a religious secret.

A number of historians believe the Church of Angelfire arose to replace the somewhat similar Church of Serra, whose worship is condemned in Benalia. This condemnation dates back to the days of Benalia's forerunner, the Sheoltun Empire. The growing settlement of Epityr cast off the ruling chains of Sheoltun when a priest of Serra called forth the angels of Serra to free the town. This uprising was the straw that broke the empire's back, and the already fading Sheoltun soon after lost all control of eastern Terisiare.

City of Brass: This mystical city is a shining paean to pain and rage. Legend has it that the city was built long ago by an aggrieved planeswalker who wished solace from some great pain. Located somewhere on the farthest reaches of Rabiah (or perhaps even in the plane of Wildfire), the City of Brass constantly shimmers with heat, easily maintaining a temperature some 20 degrees warmer than the surrounding desert. Constructed entirely of stone and brass, the city's structures reflect the sun, shimmering blood-gold from sunup to sundown, and glowing dimly with heat radiance for hours after nightfall. Even the nearby mountains are coated in brass, and although snow and ice often forms in the peaks at night, it melts within an hour of sunrise.

Due to the unbearable conditions of the city only a few creatures make their home there. Djinns and efreets frequent the city, although brass men are by far the most numerous inhabitants. Other beings who attempt entry often do not survive the experience. Despite all this, the City of Brass attracts a number of magic-workers with its high concentration of readily available mana. Unfortunately, the mana burns as hot as molten brass, and no wizard may use it without pain.

Desert Nomads: Found in even the harshest of dunes, the desert nomads are ubiquitous throughout Rabiah. It is difficult to believe that at one time this hardy people was almost lost forever to a series of terrible plagues. Yet today's nomads are tougher than ever, and they are truly unequaled at moving unseen and unheard through desert wastes. The nomads claim that even a desert child of six years can survive a fortnight lost in the sands. Although this claim is undoubtedly an exaggeration, the nomads do possess unrivaled knowledge of the desert and its ways.

The dragon engines were first introduced to Dominaria by the renowned artificer Mishra. Powerful artifact creatures capable of destroying almost anything in their path, Mishra's dragon engines were nevertheless only pale shadows of the original Phyrexian creations. Phyrexian dragon engines are as intelligent and swift as organic dragons, not in the slightest hampered by their mechanical origins. Many of Dominaria's goblin tribes believe that carrying a gear or cog from a dragon engine will keep other dragons from attacking the bearer.