Time is the poison of mortals. I have seen all that was, all that is, and all that shall come to be. I am the Librarian. As time passes, trees grow, they shed their leaves, they die. As time passes, you learn, you age, and you die. As time passes, I write into the fabric of existence all of the possibilities that it brings into being.
-The Librarian of Leng, “From the Aeons Torn”
Within days of returning from Eternal Weekend, having yet to open a page on which to begin to scribe my tale, I had in my possession a recounting from another of the forest’s children. This Servant of Argoth wasted no time, and spared no emotion in crafting his tale.
It was only fitting that I would be given the honor of sharing it with you.
But instead of showing an equal amount of respect to the proximity of his work and the event, I read it for myself, jotted out a rough introduction, and set it aside as I became consumed with the tasks that fill the secret life of a Librarian. I often lose track of the importance of time as it relates to those bound by it, and as such I do not afford it the attention it deserves in moments such as this.
So with a halfhearted apology to its author, I am delighted to offer this Eternal Weekend recap and closer view of the deepest paths through the oldest trees than you find in your daily wanderings. Follow me along the Concordant Crossroads and taste what the woods have to offer.
Create Your Own Heroes
Another event in history, and only days after the thoughts are still fresh. What is the world to me? I am not sure, but shuffling up some old cards and smashing them into opponents is something akin to the bliss mustered from a teenage past of wet bleachers and detention for gaming in school. We were misfits, and now the misfits have grown to a strange generation of adults that still thrive on these adolescent fantasies.
If you are looking for an introspective look into the old school community, it won’t be here. If you want some game breaking tech, you also are going to be vastly disappointed with this exercise. We live and breathe the casual course and build a community in which it can play. You won’t find my iteration of “The Deck” here, nor will you find me commenting on meta composition and other key terms in analysis. I am lost, in the wood, and from now on I will call this madness my home.
We inhale deeply. The fetid stench on the swamp is powerful and heady. Deep in the forest we gather the wisdom on the ancients and put forth the relics of a bygone era to best suit the needs of our masters. Each breath is a testament to our resolve. We are thick with purpose, and straddled with glorious burdens to bear. We discuss in tongues of fallen gods, murmuring to ourselves in the manner of the lunatic. With eyes gorged deep of direction we look on past the forest out into the defiled civilizations beyond.
We hear the words from the earth, low at first, but the calling is unmistakable. We gather our blades and tomes, we venture forth into the civilized lands, trailed by our moldering relics and aged swords, no less deadly then modern mockeries of our greatness. Upon the shores of Argoth we wait for the word, and the few who survive the forest are bold. We share the names of our ancestors, and we bleed the weak in honor of our forefathers.
We walk among them now. Poised like vipers we see the unseen. Amongst the youths and the uneducated we are but a mystery, both revered and reviled for the contents of our pouches and satchels. Our gatherings are symbolic. We understand the strength of our unity. They cannot fully understand us. We are as odd as the relics we wield in battle. A hush falls over the crowd as I draw my sword, newly sharpened with the sacrifices made in the name of our fallen masters. We duel at end, but not for victory, as we have already won. We duel to honor our history.
Eternal Weekend has passed us. With it came on of the best Old School Events in history. 120 mages gathered t sling spells and share stories, and while the results of the event are already well known, I shall inject my portion of the event, as a disciple of the forest and a fellow Librarian we all must witness that which strays from the norm.
My offering is nothing too out of the ordinary. An aggro deck at heart, it brings the pressure and ways to cross the Moats that so often impede the mono green world. A practical man might simply splash white for Disenchant, but I am a Mono Green Wizard for Life.
Completely dedicated to Forest.
I summoned forth the artifacts of a bygone age, and with Mirrors and Swords I found ways to bridge the Moat and find victory on the other side. Mustering a ground force not to be disregarded, it is also aided by an air delivery to help against our most entrenched opponents. As the fights rages on, we find that Sword of the Ages is rather blunt and unwieldy against such a large field of worthy adversaries. And at the conclusion of the battle I have won a few matches but my overall showing was sub par.
But I will not be deterred.
The callings of Mishra do not go unheeded. We discover the truth of brilliance while steeped in madness. Inspecting my sword, buffing away the rust, I came to understand as if in a dream. The power of these relics is well known. Despite the machinations of these machines of war and the charm of their song, I am a servant of Argoth first and foremost, and there is darkness that comes from weaving wood and metal. I cannot abandon the woods to fashion a new sword for battle. This blade carries the trademark nature of my upbringing, but summons the greatness of all weapons at my disposal.
Power comes with a price.
Where do we go from here? It is unknown. I am now deep in thought. We decide on one path, and the fury of the forest meets the cold and calculating exactitude of these crafted artifacts of a bygone age. We summon creations long lost in time but no less deadly on the field of battle. Furthering into the haze we go now, making little sense of the world behind as we melt back into the forest, ready to battle once again.
-David, the Argothian War Machine
Now that I have taken the time to share the work of my brethren, I will spend just a few moments before I depart back into the deeper chambers of the Library to prepare my own doctrine from my time at Eternal Weekend.
If you missed it, I had the luxury of recording with the fine gentlemen over on the Island of Wak Wak for the Flippin’ Orbs podcast where we talked endlessly about a great deal of things, and eventually about Eureka. Check it out, and let me know what you think.
With this we will close the book on the night after a glance at the progress that our guest Author has made since sending me his work:
Love Not Law