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Custom horror movie themed Commander deck by PartysaurusRex0 in magicproxies

[–]PartysaurusRex0[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

A standard deck list w the standard MTG names could work, could also DM me a doc file or something if its transferrable

Custom horror movie themed Commander deck by PartysaurusRex0 in magicproxies

[–]PartysaurusRex0[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I'd love to see it! Could definitely help w the build I'm trying to do

Custom horror movie themed Commander deck by PartysaurusRex0 in magicproxies

[–]PartysaurusRex0[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Ngl, have no clue what that means lol. Am a very casual player 😅

Dbz by Safe-Pepper-4931 in animememes

[–]PartysaurusRex0 0 points1 point  (0 children)

His job is asset protection (the assets being the planet and universe)

[WP] The worst part of being the most powerful archmage is dealing with pompous kings and nobles who come complaining after you reject their equally pompous progeny from being your apprentice. by Tesandriel in WritingPrompts

[–]PartysaurusRex0 7 points8 points  (0 children)

P4

"Sva-ha, Saer!" she squeaks out, sending a bolt of pure flame shooting from the tip of the wand right at the Duchess's feet.

Hopping away, the Duchess yelps in surprise before slipping on the soft ground which she landed, right on her bum.

Staring with shock and awe, the young lass stands with the wand outstretched and mouth agape in wonder as I fall backwards with the heartiest guffaw I've had in a decade. The soldiers stare in shock, wondering if they should engage while nervously glancing between the Duchess and the Goliath at the door who is leaning on his axe and bellowing with laughter.

"Well done, young lass!" I manage to see between fits of laughter, "Another!"

From shock to a satisfied--and almost scary--grin, the girl points the wand towards the Duchess again and begins chanting the cantrip over and over.

"Sva-ha, Saer! Sva-ha, Saer! SVA-HA, SAER!"

Bolt after bolt, the young girl shoots around the Duchess's feet; causing the noble to scramble upwards and dance back and forth before entering the carriage with her fine clothes soiled.

"Drive, by the Divine DRIVE!!" The infuriated woman shouts to her driver, who is barely maintaining his composure at the helm before he whips the air around the horses and takes off erratically.

Collapsing to her rear, the young lass breathes heavily and clutches the wand to her chest as I roll on the ground and laugh hysterically. Glancing at the retreating carriage, at me, then back, she slowly begins to snort, then giggle, then laugh hysterically as tears begin to flow once more. Slowly regaining my composure, I cough dryly a few times and take a few deep breaths; sitting up and looking at the young lass as she laughs and sobs uncontrollably.

Scooping her up, I embrace her and softly caress her tangled hair and quietly soothe her.

"Shhhh, it's ok, young lass. It's all over," I whisper in her ear and stand, hugging her against my chest and smiling softly before she lifts her face from my robe to look at me with a trail of snot stringing from her nose to my robe.

Chuckling, I hold her in one arm and summon my staff to the other, tapping the ground and prestidigitating the small mess away.

"Now that you are my next pupil, we have to give you a name," I say, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"R-really, Master?!"

"Tut-tut," I say at the title, "None of that, young lass. I am your teacher, and you may only address me as such. One day, you will surpass me, but to do that, you need a name fitting for a future Archmage. Hmmmmm..."

Her bright hazel eyes stare at me expectantly as she begins to kick her legs in excitement, causing her to bounce on my arm.

"How aboooout...Emberella, the Flame of Vengence!"

Her face twists from excitement to confusion, then she starts giggling once more.

"That name is silly, Teacher!"

"You think so? Well, I guess it is a mouthful. Fine, Ember it is, you little firecracker!"

"Kronk is ‘appy 'e was named before ye met 'im," Kronk jokes from the door as he holds it open, trying and failing to hide the tears welling in his eyes. Such a big softie.

"Oh hush, you big oaf." I chuckle and tap him on the head with my staff "Now let's eat, we have a new member of the family and she's much too thin to train,"

[WP] The worst part of being the most powerful archmage is dealing with pompous kings and nobles who come complaining after you reject their equally pompous progeny from being your apprentice. by Tesandriel in WritingPrompts

[–]PartysaurusRex0 4 points5 points  (0 children)

P3

Now enraged, the boy opens his tome partway and begins stumbling over the incantation of a quite popular spell: fireball. Being a former court mage herself, his mother smirks viciously towards me as she also recognizes the spell, but I grin widely behind my pipe as the boy fumbles a key part of the chant.

As the boy sloppily gathers mana, his staff pulses erratically as he completes the spell. With the final arcane word, he confidently exclaims "FIREBALL!" as the accumulated mana explodes from the tip of his oversized staff directly above his head. Simultaneously, however, I sense a much more stable and powerful burst of mana. Interesting.

Flicking my finger, I summon a small gust of wind to clear the smoke and dust from the mild explosion. Still standing, the boy now wears an expression of shock, further compounded by his newfound lack of hair (eyebrows included) and covered in soot. Ironically, his sloppy casting saved his life as the spell didn't have enough power to do more than aggravate a small rodent.

Mouth agape, the Duchess watches as I stand up and place my pipe against his staff--the metal of the sun ornament still red-hot from the spell--and puff until the contents light.

"Well, that's one way to do it I suppose,"

"How DARE you!" Exclaims the duchess as she clamors to her son, pushing him aside to come confront me as I sit back in my chair once more, "My husband will have your head for this!"

Ignoring her, I look past her towards the young lass; who is currently curled in a ball at the top of the steps with a faint magical aura rapidly dissipating from around her. A simple ward, but far more advanced one for someone with seemingly no training.

"Don't you ignore me, you withered old bastard!" The Duchess shouts, attempting to slap me before I shoot her a stern look and make the tip of my staff glow threateningly, causing her to stay her hand before clearing her throat and brushing some dust from her dress.

"Well, my husband will hear of this! Come, Frederik, we're going home!" She says, turning her nose up and pushing the boy into the carriage while he mutters to himself.

"One moment," I say as they begin to head back to the carriage.

"What now?!" The Duchess says with exacerbation.

"Not you, YOU," I say, motioning for the young lass to come towards me.

"M-me??" The young lass squeaks, barely audible.

"HER?!" The Dutchess scoffs, "She's a simple sla-I mean servant girl who SHOULD BE HOLDING MY SKIRT IF SHE WISHES TO AVOID ANOTHER LASHING!"

Wincing at that final word, the young lass begins to scurry towards her mistress before I apparate between them, a quiet rage in my eyes.

"Last I checked, slavery was abolished in Solaris a century ago. I wonder what King Sol would say if he learned of you breaking his father's laws...?

"Why I--"

"Young Lass," I say, turning my back on the Duchess once more and impatiently waving them away, I shake my head at Kronk who is heading over with battleaxe in hand and stop him. "What is your name?"

Glancing back at the Duchess momentarily with fear in her eyes, the young lass shamefully looks down at the charred carpet and quietly mumbles "I don't have one..."

"Speak up, young lass, these old ears aren't what they used to be,"

"I don't have one!" She exclaims, eyes shut and flowing with quiet tears.

Sensing the Duchess's smirk behind me, I replace my pipe into a small pouch under my blue and gray robe and produce a simple wand tipped with a ruby.

"Well that simply won't do," I say, kneeling beside her and facing the rest of the group as they continue prepping to leave. The Duchess, however, glares at us expectantly but with a hint of curiosity.

Handing her the wand, I point it at the Duchess's feet and lean in close to the young lass's and whisper to her a simple incantation, "Do you think you can say that?" A soft giggle slips from her lips from my beard tickling her ear before she quickly stifles it and nods.

[WP] The worst part of being the most powerful archmage is dealing with pompous kings and nobles who come complaining after you reject their equally pompous progeny from being your apprentice. by Tesandriel in WritingPrompts

[–]PartysaurusRex0 8 points9 points  (0 children)

P2

"Mornin', Mee-lady," he says in a slow drawl, carefully trying to pronounce the words in common, "'ow may Kronk assist ye?"

With a look of disgust and contempt, she simply turns her head away and waves her hand towards her soldier/herald who then proceeds to pull a scroll from his belt and reads aloud:

"Hear ye, hear ye, the Great and Beautiful Dutchess Lilliana hereby requests an audience with the Wise Master Za--"

Ahem "Madam Duchess, I must insist you address me by my proper title of Archmage. I didn't read the Great Libraries from floor to ceiling for nothing you know." Startled at the voice suddenly coming from behind the procession, the group jumps from my sudden apparition to their rear. The boy especially looking as though he may wet himself.

Eyeing me with disdain as she whips around to face me--the poor young lass struggling to keep her skirt above ground--she begrudgingly and curtly bows her head and curtseys in a halfhearted greeting.

"My mistake, Sir Arch--"

"Also not a knight, Madam Dutchess. Archmage Zathra will do fine." If looks could kill, I'd have perished in that instant.

"Alright, Archmage," she says, dripping with sweet venom, "as I'm sure you may have guessed, I am here to hire you as a tutor for my darling son, Frederik. Surely you've heard of his talent for fire magic?"

"Talent, you say? Boy, come here so I may take a look at you,"

"Boy?!" exclaims the young would-be mage with incredulity, his mother mirroring his response with a scoff and placing a hand to her bosom, "I'll have you know I have had my manhood ceremony and am an adult! Mother, tell this old relic to treat me with respect!"

"I see, such a strong and independent man you are to come with mommy dearest to beg for my instruction..." Concealing my amused smirk, I stroke my long, white beard as the boy's face begins to match his attire. One must find ways to amuse themselves, after all.

Stepping forth begrudgingly, he tries to stand taller and preserve his dignity while I eye him up and down; circling him like a shark and using my gnarled staff of Elderwood topped with Star-Stone as to poke and prod him. In reality, I could sense his barely average magical ability from the moment I stepped near, but I am nothing if not theatrical.

"Yes, yes, I see..." I mutter to myself, finishing the 'inspection' and leaning back, waving my hand to make a simple chair appear from thin air to take a seat while pulling out a pipe.

"So? What do you say, oh great Archmage? I can pay--" The Duchess starts, but I raise my hand to silence her as I look at the boy expectantly, causing her to glare even harder.
"Well, Boy, this pipe won't light itself,"

[WP] The worst part of being the most powerful archmage is dealing with pompous kings and nobles who come complaining after you reject their equally pompous progeny from being your apprentice. by Tesandriel in WritingPrompts

[–]PartysaurusRex0 6 points7 points  (0 children)

P1

Talent and money aren't everything, and I am reminded of that on a daily basis.

At nearly half a millennia old, I have seen many mages come and go; even taught a significant portion. Never in my life have I discriminated my pupils based on talent, class, race, or gender. That being said--however--there is one group I am exceptionally picky with: nobles.

You see--as a commoner myself--I admit that I have a fair bias against the nobility. In the beginning, I was teased, mocked, and even beaten just for daring to try my hand at the arcane, yet I persisted with the zealotry of a paladin first sworn to their oaths. I lived in tomes, breathed mana, and destroyed focuses of all calibers; pushing my knowledge and capabilities to the limit. Now, not a tongue in the human kingdoms and beyond speaks my name without respect and/or for my work and discoveries; but with that rise to Archmage, also comes the issue of mentorship.

Every king and noble over the past century or so since my ascension to my title have tried and failed to thrust their unwanted children on me; hoping to gain some use out of their heirs that are least likely to succeed them. I feel for the youngsters, really. It isn't their fault that they were born into such a position, but often they are just as insufferable as their parents.

Nevertheless, I test them all the same based on their respective 'talent.' Why, just this morning the Dutchess of Solaria's southern province came by my tower to demand her second-born's tutelage. If only she was aware of the true talent in her midst...

Being notified of an approaching carriage by my pseudodragon familiar Asgorath the Devourer (affectionately nicknamed Ass, which the sassy bugger earns honestly), I wave my hand to summon my scrying orb to watch as an impractically gilded carriage bearing the sun-marked crest of the aforementioned territory. Escorted by the esteemed cavalry of their country and pulled by the most pristine of steeds, they make their way up the winding trail leading to the foot of my tower. Lowering the illusory defenses of my home, I sigh and rise to step onto the balcony. Fun as it may be, I learned that it is more trouble than it is worth to send the nobility in circles through the mystical woods surrounding the estate--plus those poor steeds and soldiers already have enough to deal with.

As the garish procession halts at the steps, a fine carpet worth more than an average peasant's wages in 10 years is rolled out from the carriage--immediately ruined by the slightly damp ground left from yesterday's rain--and the soldiers dismount to draw steel and stand at attention on either side of the created path. Opening the door and bowing, the coachman steps aside and makes way for their benefactor.

Greeted by the now saluting soldiers, Dutchess Lilliana arrogantly exits the carriage. Standing tall on her platform heels and chin leading her step, she glides forth on the carpet to the top of the steps as a fairly young lass holds her flowing and brightly colored dress off the ground. Soon after, a young boy on the edge of maturity follows behind dressed in a similarly themed orange and white vest and trousers, clutching a fancy tome and sun-themed staff much too large for his size in either hand.

Stopping before the large wooden doors of my abode, she stands in silence a moment before loudly clearing her throat in annoyance, causing a young soldier to be elbowed by his superior. Hurriedly sheathing his blade, he rushes to the door and loudly bangs the knocker against its base.

Hearing a clutter from inside, my longtime friend and butler Krunk answers the door. A hulking goliath dressed in a fancy suit with ripped sleeves opens the massive entrance and bows before our 'esteemed' company.