Maximize Velocity

Amateur mtg shortfic writer. He/him. Icon art by Svetlin Velinov, card art for Maximize Velocity. Background art by Noah Bradley, card art for Izzet Guildgate

[danco110]

“Hey, Kenneth.”

“Hey, Demetrius.” The viashino nodded in greeting to his friend, as he donned his goggles, tail guard, and knee pads.

The human standing off to the side folded his arms judgmentally at the other Izzet. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes,” Kenneth assured him, while mounting the hoverboard floating beside him.

“Have you even…what’s the word…tested it yet?”

“Huh? Aw, dang. I knew I forgot some-”

The hoverboard suddenly flared to life and shot forward. The sudden momentum propelled Kenneth directly into a brick wall, knocking him unconscious. He crumpled to the ground, his board smoking and sputtering as it shut down.

Demetrius smirked, and shook his head at Kenneth’s prone form. “Remind me again why you’re my boss, and not the other way around?”

—

[Hi. I write short stories about Magic cards. Stories are tagged like this one, and by plane. Any story I can’t find a plane for generally defaults to Shandalar. Also hey, I now have a non-mtg reblog blog @danco111!]

[danco110]

“Hey, look at that, a- OW!”

The kor rogue on the ground winced as she felt a sharp pain in her neck. The pain forced her gaze down, away from her airborne counterpart soaring through the sky on a kitesail.

“Busted the neck, did you, Aitana?” chimed a chipper voice from the kor’s side. A merfolk in a waterproof wizard hat surfaced from the river running beside the path, smirking at her wounded party member. “That’s why I don’t look up at random flyovers.”

“How- ow…How very incurious of you, Waverly,” Aitana grumbled, as she stretched her neck one way, then the other. “And, why not? It’s keeping an eye out for threats from above.”

“But Markus isn’t a threat.” Waverly pointed a webbed finger up at the kitesailing kor making another pass overhead.

“No, but- ow…It never hurts to double check.”

Waverly merely remained silent. Her smirk grew wider.

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh look at that! A third disturbance overhead!” Waverly teased.

“Knock it off.”

“Surely it couldn’t be the same-”

A horrible roar from further back up the trail silenced the taunt, and put both fighters on edge. They drew their weapons and spun around, only to see another of their number - a third kor, this one seated atop a drake companion.

“Oh. Sorry, Flax.”

The party’s warrior waved off the two’s concern before turning his attention back to his drake, who Waverly and Aitana now saw was writhing in pain. “No problem. You didn’t do anything. It’s Sand here. He saw Markus flying overhead, and stretched his neck trying to watch him as he flew directly over us.”

“You…” Waverly trailed off. She scowled, intently not looking at Aitana’s smug expression beside her. “You do realize, having the same habits as a drake isn’t the triumph you think it is.”

“Whatever you say,” smirked the rogue.

[I do it, sure, but is it really a universal instinct, to look up at helicopters and planes and such?]

[fossora-of-the-golgari]

A Gruul Funeral

The Undercity groaned. Endless channels of blue-ish black stone supported by rotten mortars and moss stood at such a meagre distance from the surface. Any single person could simply come down, and yet they did not.

Fossora shambled through a dilapidated servant’s quarters. Her lumbering bones pushed, heaving out of the loam-like gravel that sank and swam like mud. Whatever transfigured this stone was unclear, perhaps an illusion, but it mattered not to Fossora. The freshened corpse had found a sudden purpose in and amongst her daily nurturing of the Golgari Swarm, rumours of a space within the city that had been broken down. The Gruul had turned this small chunk of the surface, only about a kilometre wide, into open fields once more. No longer was it dank or quiet, no longer was it flourishing in a fraudulent light cast down by the eyes of a lord uncaring, it was free. But into it, the city bled. Sewer tunnels turned into silent spillways, crevasses dug themselves out where the buildings could no longer intermingle for support, and the servants quarters led endlessly outwards, soul after soul freed and blossoming in the authentic sunlight. Fossora knew its purpose well, to visit them and find their sickest people. To subvert all expectations is the most efficient method of earning favour afterall. To show kindness against the force of an endless, roaring herd shall transform it into joyful swarms.

The chance had not come as expected. Sunlight had not even reached its aging bones when a boy, coughing and wheezing, presented himself from behind a ruined block. Covered in the tattered remains of a boar, he took in the face of Fossora, stalling out. Her jawbone drooped, her joints swung on mould. It was piloting with parasitic tendrils around her each and every limb, and took a strange breath before speaking. “I mean… harm-none. Let me… fix you.” His response was silence, a resigned spasm of breaths before lying back down, his body growing limp. “Leave me to die. I will not turn into a tool for the city. My death will mean nothing to you.”

“No… live. Return to your… wilds.”

Her left palm shifted towards him. A gentle creaking sound came from every small movement, clicking and shifting as the beginnings of magic wove their ways around him. Great strings, tendrils even, of green emerged from around him, filtering in the low-light like paper toys wrapped in foil, pulling away at what wounds he had. They peeled, the fleshy marks pulling out and away like tape being gently pulled away from somewhere it had not meant to be placed, and fresh skin flourished beneath them. Wound after wound pulled away, gently popping as they fled the skin entirely into small flickers of mana like paper when it’s caught aflame, raining down on other shores somewhere to be properly dealt with. “Breathe without… your clogging lungs.” Fossora’s voice was meant with no response. The peaceful hum of the Undercity continued, her spells glimmering ringing faded away as the light readjusted, from pulses of light flowing around the surfaces of the room like waves in a rockpool to the cooled blue hue it always took when light could barely reach it. Perhaps he had fainted from the shock! Perhaps his body was always too feeble to accept life once again?

She took his leg, battered and small, and began to haul him as she had the thousands before him. Ravnica died, rebirthed and met death endlessly, and even though it had faint memories of the Ghosts Quarter and of the prisons of death the Orzhov had build, she only recalled the woes of a corpse bringer. One who’s cart had been lost, but her journey stretched only the shortest of distances. Taking a right turn from the tunnel and a five-minute pace, Fossora caught a glance of the sunlight, direct and emboldened. It flowed through the peaks of a drainage system, built so long ago it had widened to nearly a giants size, from merely a dragons before. Her body shuddered, its fungi reaching down for its moisture. A spillway tunnel continued ahead, perhaps it would be for the best to leave him at its entrance. ‘Should he wake, he may rejoin his world of clans, the eternal game of a young man guided only by the compass of optimism without any form of fear to point the needle away from its logical yet vitriolic conclusion, or shed his barbarity, meeting the Swarm with our palms extended to his kind.’

[danco110]

“It’s Maha! Everyone find cover!”

A dark shadow swept over the camp, sending everyone scrambling. The rabbitfolk soldiers were all able to find shelter, with the exception of one, who stood brazenly out in the open.

“Kelsey, get in here!” huffed a soldier cowering nearby behind a tent flap.

“No,” came the beleaguered reply from the exposed rabbit.

“What? Why!”

“Because…it’s not Maha.” Kelsey pointed skyward. Again the shadow passed over the camp. And again Kelsey remained unharmed. “See? I would’ve been eaten twice over, now.”

“A lucky break for sure. Now get under cover! It’s Maha, I’m sure of it!”

“No, it’s not,” Kelsey snickered. “And I’m sure of that. Here - again, a third time.”

Finally, the supposed calamity beast landed amid the tents, with a flurry of furious wingbeats. Kelsey alone stood her ground, while even the rabbit who had been conversing with her retreated.

“…Tacitus?” the brave soldier asked incredulously.

“Ah, n-no, of course not!” stammered a mockingbird, clad in an oversized coat of dyed black down. “W-Who is this ‘Tacitus’ you speak of? It is I, MAHA, ITS FEATHERS NIGHT!”

Kelsey laughed once more. “How’d you do that with your voice? One heck of a spell, is my guess.”

“SUCH DISRESPECT, FROM A MERE-”

“All right, I’m over it. Cut it out. Now.”

Tacitus seemed to shrink. “Y-Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, in his normal voice.

“See, everyone?” Kelsey called to the rest of the camp. “False alarm! Just a…performer. One in pretty poor taste, might I add!”

“…We just wanted to give credit to Tacitus’s impersonation,” said the voice from the tent.

“Wh- Hey!” grumbled the bird in question. “It wasn’t that bad a likeness…was it?”

“No, they’re just lying…” Kelsey turned to stare at the tents. “I think.”

[danco110]

“…Of course, it doesn’t help that nearly half of this is going to the king.”

Will Kenrith arched an eyebrow at the hunter laden down with a full day’s haul. “We don’t collect tithes from your village, Bretta.”

“Not you. King Korvold. We either feed him, or he feeds on us.”

“Does he?” Will asked, his tone gaining an edge. “Perhaps it’s time I pay the good king a visit, and redistribute some of his spoils back to you and your village.”

Bretta breathed a deep sigh. “I appreciate the gesture, but countless knights have tried. And you can guess how many have returned.”

“I see…”

“No, you don’t. Even his human honor guard is ferocious, taking my food at the gate and refusing to even let me cross the threshold. I shudder to think how ravenous Korvold himself is…”

—

“I’m sick of it.”

Korvold’s rumbling voice seemed more sad than angry. This gave pause to Rowan Kenrith, who had snuck past his guards and placed a sword to his scaled throat. Even when she was distracted, however, the draconic king made no move to escape.

“…Sick of what?” Rowan asked warily.

“Look at the windows you just snuck through.”

“Heh. Yeah, the bars are huge, but too wide to-”

“They’re for me!”

Rowan fell silent.

“I lose control once, and my servants think I’m demanding tribute from every hamlet in-”

The doors to Korvold’s chamber swung wide, revealing several servants carrying all manner of food.

“My king, we bring…Who is this?” The lead servant reached for a knife on her belt as she stared down Rowan.

“Just an appetizer,” Korvold groaned, before Rowan could answer. “Leave the food here. I’ll finish each course in turn.”

“No, my king! Please eat! You’re sick, you need your strength!”

The servants turned their pointed looks to Korvold. Rowan scoffed.

“Oh, please. He’ll destroy you.”

“No. I won’t.”

Rowan stared up at him in disbelief. “I thought you said-”

“The door.”

The door was only large enough for the servants, and the stone surrounding it looked impenetrable.

“Ah…”

[Change my mind: Korvold in a vacuum is not overly busted. Sure, pretty much any Jund 99 breaks him wide open, but the one sacrifice a turn from his own effect is not exactly blowing the doors off.]

[thecornwall]

Cornwall's Random Card of the Day 16/07/2026: Draconic Destiny

Draconic Destiny is a mythic rare from The Brothers' War.

This card is a callback both to early favourite Shivan Dragon, with its flying and firebreathing, as well as a callback to auras which return to their owner's hand upon the enchanted permanent dying, like Rancor. Overall it makes a pretty decent aura, seriously upgrading whatever you slap it on and coming back every time that thing is killed. You'd think in a fast limited environment like The Brothers' War that this kind of enchantment would be too slow to matter, but I personally have seen quite a few limited matches get dominated by it, so it was some good.

Why no need for {R} in the firebreathing? Well, The Brothers' War had Powerstones as it's noncreature token, and those could tap to add {<>} that couldn't be used to cast nonartifact spells. But that means they COULD be used to power activated abilities, like this one.

I give it an Impressive Aura/10.

[chaobunnyarts]

Some tarot-themed card sleeves I made for my brother, my partner, and my Magic the Gathering decks!

The Magician: Alania, Divergent Storm The Empress: Ms. Bumbleflower Wheel of Fortune: Slimefoot and Squee The World: Flubs, the Fool

[strixhaven-star]

Singe-Mind Ogre --- {2}{B}{R}

Creature — Ogre Mutant

When this creature enters, target player reveals a card at random from their hand, then loses life equal to that card’s mana value.

Even the balmgivers of Bant couldn’t heal the incurables, but sharing their torment helped.

3/2

Illustrated by Daarken

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I would like this to be reprinted so it can have the modern frame and look nice with the rest of the Rakdos colored mutants I will be playing.

[danco110]

“Get down!”

The tricorne-wearing soldier pushed his knightly guide beneath some tree cover as a large shadow passed over them both. The latter scoffed, stepping out from his impromptu cover into the open.

“Syr…Syr Lerrett! Get back here!” cried the anachronistic cathar. “It’s a dragon!”

Under his helmet, the elven knight chuckled. “Ah, yes, I forget. Worry not, Friedrich. The dragons here on Eldraine aren’t always villains.”

“Not villains. Monsters-”

A brilliantly red and blue-scaled dragon landed before the two, cutting the conversation short. While Friedrich drew his sword, Lerrett merely spread his arms wide in greeting.

“Ah, Inspiration! Good to see you!”

Friedrich scoffed quietly. “What an insipid name.”

“An impressively rude greeting for a stranger to our lands. Addressed to a ‘monster,’ no less.”

Friedrich cursed under his breath. Lerrett waved frantically to try and defuse the situation.

“He means you no harm, Inspiration!”

“He can do me no harm,” the dragon corrected coldly.

“Oh, no?”

“No!” Lerrett finished for Friedrich. “Ah…What brings you onto the road alongside us lowly travelers?”

“I merely wanted to inquire if you had any interesting offerings today?”

“No, sorry,” Lerrett shrugged. “As you’ve already noticed, I’ve been a bodyguard lately.”

“Just an omenpath guide, really,” Friedrich grumbled, in vain.

“Hmph. I won’t hide my disappointment, but I cannot fault your sense of duty. I wish you well.”

“Likewise. Send my regards to Insight.”

Inspiration nodded and took flight. Once the dragon had departed, Lerrett turned to angrily berate his charge:

“You tempt fate with insults like those!”

Friedrich shook his head. “Dragons are monsters. This ‘Insight’ you mentioned, is also one? I’m sure it’s nothing like Inspiration.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Lerrett admitted.

Friedrich smirked.

“…Insight is much more studious than Inspiration.”

The smirk fell from Friedrich’s face.

“Yes, Inspiration is more of a…magpie, than a proper scholar like Insight.”

[I’d have expected Eldraine to have more stereotypically evil dragons, given the whole knight aesthetic. But no, there’s a fair few of em that are reasonable!]

[dialogic]

I just did like the best thing ever with my last free night in six days

[eveemtg]

Die Summoners

Above all alliterate

[keresacheron]

Great cycle.

[danco110]

“Sadiq, behind you!”

The sphinx whipped around midair, but was too slow to stop the javelin from piercing his back. He plummeted to the temple floor with a deafening crash. As he came to, he growled defensively at the cerulean skeletons surrounding him, brandishing bloodied weapons.

“Champions eternal,” Sadiq greeted coldly. “Surely you gain nothing by proving your might against an old man such as myself…?”

The Eternals ignored the subtle plea, and advanced. Sadiq tensed. But just before the first of their number could draw near, an enchanted arrow shattered its skull, causing it to fall apart with a clatter.

“I’ve got your back!” cried a lone human, peering out from behind a pillar as she nocked another arrow into her bow. She started toward the crowd, but was stopped by a strained cry from Sadiq:

“Get out of here, Ranya! There’s too many. I’ll hold them off!”

“No way! Hey! Over here!”

Despite Ranya shouting at the mob, they remained solely focused on Sadiq. Even as she shot down another of their number, they continued to encircle the sphinx, much to his chagrin.

“All this attention…I suppose I should be flattered-”

With astonishing speed, Sadiq struck. His claws found purchase in two Eternals, while his tail whipped a third. Ranya struck down yet another from range, but the rest charged. Ranya’s view of her friend disappeared behind a wall of bodies.

“Sadiq! SADIQ!”

Arrow after arrow flew into the attackers’ backs. But the last Eternal fell victim to Sadiq, mortally wounded, collapsing onto it. Ranya sprinted to the sphinx’s side, tearing up at the stab wounds that now lined his body.

“Sadiq…”

“Ranya…” came the wheezing, haggard reply. “Listen close. My magic…”

“No. We can…”

“This chaos is sweeping through the city. There are no safe places, no healers. I am not leaving here alive. My teachings, however, might. But only if you listen - right now.”

Ranya’s knuckles turned white gripping her bow. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned in close.

[I misunderstood this effect for the longest time! I thought it meant I get to untap and cast sorcery speed stuff during Main 2. Yeah. No.]

[danco110]

I wanted to do a writing where a Fioran assassin is like training a newbie or something, and jokes about how swan diving into a haycart from several stories above is deadly…But what with the AC UB existing, it seems a little, uh, uninspired.

[menea-the-pharmakon]

Lilium

Skathos was not an island defined by its flowers. Within a mile of Hythonia’s cave, everything was completely petrified due to her status as an ancient gorgon and avatar of Pharika. And beyond that mile, besides her sister’s garden, the land merely grew wild and according to its own whims and desires. Even in Gorgia, gardens were small and usually filled with vegetables and herbs rather than flowers. This was why the appearance of flowers at the entrance of Hythonia’s cave was so notable.

The ancient gorgon leaned down and scooped up the white six-petaled flowers. It was obvious that they were enchanted, preserving the scent. She didn’t recognize what kind of flower it was, but she had never paid much attention to flower types before regardless. Hythonia ran her clawed thumb across one of the petals and smiled despite herself. There was something so...romantic and simple about her courtship of the shadow kami at the moment.

The snakes crowning her head hissed and wiggled in small circles as the shadows deepened around her. But she smiled, because she knew exactly who it was. “Haruko,” she murmured, turning back on her coils to where she expected the spirit to appear.

The golden mask of the ancient kami manifested from the deepest shadows, followed by the skeletal limbs emerging from beneath her umbral cloak. She raised her hands and signed. It was a sharp gesture, a letter sign darting forward like a striking serpent. “Hythonia.”

Hythonia reached out and cupped the “cheek” of Haruko’s mask with a clawed hand. “It’s just us tonight,” she murmured. “No city, no family members, no witnesses or people to be mindful of. Shall we make the most of it?”

Haruko did not bother with another sign. Instead, the kami gently grasped Hythonia’s wrist and tilted her mask into the gorgon’s palm. Though the golden mask itself was featureless, Hythonia recognized the gesture as a mimicry of a kiss.

Hythonia chuckled and pressed her forehead to the “forehead” of Haruko’s mask. She intended to see just how much they would learn about each other. “I agree,” she whispered.

The shadows curled in to embrace her. In turn, her coils curled around skeletal limbs.

[danco110]

“Let go of my-”

Aatchik was thrown violently from the driver’s seat. She began tumbling down the road, but quickly regained her footing thanks to several insectoid arms. Before she could skitter back toward the crash, however, a calm voice to her side interrupted her once more:

“I wouldn’t risk it,” drawled a fisherman, sitting on the track wall and holding his pole over the side. “That one’s practically a dragon, what with how fierce it guards its hoard.”

Aatchik did not turn. Her many-eyed gaze remained entirely fixed on the massive serpent pulling her vehicle off the track. “Nevertheless, I must try,” came her harsh, chittering reply. “Us Speedbrood’s vehicles are…us! Fellow insects, transcended to a higher form!”

“Well, to that thing, they’re just more stuff to collect. See?”

Hissing and spitting acid, but moving all the same, Aatchik’s vehicle finally disappeared beneath the surf under the track. The driver herself reacted much the same as her ride, angry spittle sizzling upon the pavement.

“How dare that snake! Singling us out!”

“No, it’s definitely not picky,” chimed the fisherman. “It’s already snagged plenty of other folks’ rides, if that’s any consolation?”

“…It does provide some catharsis, I must admit. But still! This is a most grievous…How many others?”

The fisherman shrugged. “No idea. But it’s roamed these waters for nine long years, and pulled quite a few under during that time.”

“It’s not a placed obstacle?”

“No way, all natural…Huh?”

Aatchik’s eyes began to sparkle. Her anger forgotten, she now leaned over the side and stared eagerly into the water.

“One of the most dignified ends I’ve ever seen for one of us,” Aatchik muttered. “No slow decline. No contrived sabotage. Just…an ending. To join so many other vehicles, what an honor. And, and, to rest as one! Forever!”

“Right…forever…”

The fisherman moved to stand in front of his bag. The scrap metal he had fished from the water bore markings from myriad vehicles, from many years past.

[I love far-apart reprints! Nine dang years, can you believe that?]

[devilcat3d]

playing a magic the gathering draft with you and im seated to your right and I pass you my pack and as you look through the cards to make your pick you realize that I have scribbled on the basic land: "do you like me" with a yes and no box for each player in the draft

[danco110]

“Wait…Tyson, do you hear that?”

One survivor gestured to her friend to stop. The pair heard a harsh screech in the distance, from further down the decrepit mansion hallway.

“Banshee…” Tyson scratched his chin. “Or, wight? Maybe a-”

River pulled Tyson behind one the columns that lined the hall on either side, just as the source of the scream entered the room. River peeked out and glimpsed an unnaturally tall spirit wearing a large sunhat. Spindly claws rested at her sides, razor sharp but mercifully free of blood or viscera.

“Tyson, it’s-”

“I see her,” Tyson hissed quietly in return. “Just, wait for her to pass.”

“Lady Melinda!”

Just as the spirit was about to float past, however, two more brightly glowing apparitions in maid uniforms rushed to catch up with her.

“Our apologies, ma’am,” sighed one of the maids, “*but we were confused about the instructions you gave us.*”

Tyson chuckled. “Yeah, no kidding. It’s all screeching.”

Sure enough, Melinda gave her maids a wordless cry. But to the survivors’ surprise, they seemed to understand her perfectly.

“Ah, the piano in the music room, not the grand hall. We will tune it to the best of our abilities! Also, about the two survivors, right over there…?”

River could only grit her teeth and inhale sharply, as all three ghosts turned her and Tyson’s way. A brief, tense silence followed, but no attack came. The survivors watched as Melinda cupped her distended face with a claw, clearly aggravated. She screeched one final time to the help before continuing toward the exit.

“Yes, we’ll help them. You tend to your business, madam, and we’ll see you tonight. Now, out from there, you two!”

River and Tyson sheepishly left their cover.

“This way! We’ll show you to the kitchen. Get you a proper meal.”

Tyson eagerly approached, despite River’s muttered warning. “Hey, thanks! Your lady sure is kind!”

“Oh, certainly not! She was just too busy to torment you. So she had us tend to you instead. Rather lucky, that.”

“Oh…”

[Scene: a draft player has to cycle Spectral Snatcher early, but is able to cast Shepherding Spirits later in the game.]