Phenax Dimir Mill: a Story of a Deck

The marble floor of the circular room was ringed with alternating Ionic and Doric columns. While the high level of craftsmanship was plain to see, it was also plain to see that the columns were purely ornamental, for the room had no roof, nor walls, but instead remained open to the night sky, across which bright, enchanting constellations played.

The room was occupied by a handful of characters, each with their own intentions and impressive powers. The most intimidating of these was an old, shriveled yet deceptively powerfully built humanoid, whose features were almost entirely concealed under a heavy hood and cloak. The suit of armor and sheathed weapon were clear to see, but the figure's gender, or even race, could not be determined. Beside this creature, and several feet above the floor, floated a fearsome shirtless vampire, raven hair flowing although there was no wind in the chamber. He floated down near ground level and whispered into the hooded figure's ear.

"Master Lazav, do you know where we are? Or how we got here? I have searched the minds of all present, and none have any knowledge of the Implicit Maze."

"No indeed, Mirko," sneered Lazav, the Dimir Mastermind also in a whisper. "This place does not seem to have any affiliation with any of the Guilds of Ravnica... Except for one of our guests!" Its attention turned swiftly to another powerful vampire, floating several feet above its companion. "Szadek, I presume. I did not expect to find the Lord of Secrets outside the safety of Agyrem."

"Nor did I," responded the larger vampire, dressed in gaudy papal robes and with eyes as blank as a comic book superhero's. He floated even higher, crossed his legs and clasped his hands in front of him. "It appears I have been summoned here, as have you, by a powerful leader with some special purpose. But I sense no such creature..."

His white eyes fell on a scrawny yet charming and unintimidated merfolk, who said brazenly, "I hope you're not insinuating that it could be me. I'm honored, but I just simply can't identify with most of you." When he felt he gave his jest enough time to be absorbed, he continued. "Allow me to introduce myself: Ambassador Laquatus," the smiling merfolk replied, bowing low to the ground. "I represent the cephalids of Otaria, on the plane of..."

"Dominaria," piped in a voice from a corner of the room, belonging to a thin, blue-clad man with spiky black hair and a blue scar down his right cheek. "I'm familiar with your work. I consider myself somewhat of a memory adept myself."

"Oh, don't be modest, Jace," cooed an attractive, scantily-clad female mage from another corner. She sidled up to the famous planeswalker and draped herself over his shoulders playfully and sensually. "We all know you're the best at what you do."

At the mention of this name, the hooded figure perked up. "Jace Beleren? Although in somewhat less fashionable garb than when we last met... But seeing you means that whoever brought us here has extracted you from the Implicit Maze of Ravnica as well!"

"I have spent some time in that plane's sprawling metropolis," replied a bewildered Jace. "But I haven't been back for some time, nor do I recognize this maze you speak of. I've been traveling the plane of Shandalar, relaxing at the Evos Isle."

"Why, I've been in Shandalar too, darling!" interjected the woman. "Earning the favor of the Xathrid demons of the Dark Realms. I'm surprised we didn't run into each other."

"And I'm surprised you think that was a coincidence, Liliana" groaned Jace, rolling his eyes and shaking himself free of her grasp. "But I am merely one of many Jaces, we could say. The multiverse is a vast place, and I have no doubt that more (and less) powerful alternate versions of myself exist in many other corners of it, wielding their own magic and influencing events in their own way."

"Tell me then," chimed in Liliana, "does this version of Jace have any idea where we are or why we were brought here?"

"Allow me to answer that question," came a sinister voice that seemed to emanate from one of the great constellations itself. The stars began to animate into the form of a gigantic gray male figure with a mask and gauntlets made out of shimmering gold. "I am Phenax, God of Deception, and this is my domain."

"A god?" scoffed Laquatus, his smile quickly fading. "Those are merely the stuff of childhood legends."

"Legends, yes. But here on the plane of Theros, we are very real," boomed Phenax, raising his hand and causing a mass of stars to swirl around him. "We are the physical embodiments of the concepts and ideals that shape the lives of the people here."

"Incredible! Deception, eh?" mused Lazav. "It seems that your world might be very similar to ours. And how many of you... Gods are there?"

"Funny you should ask," responded Phenax, although it did not seem like he found anything particularly amusing. "Until recently, there were 14 in the pantheon. It is partly due to the addition of another that I have called you all here."

"Addition?" blurted Jace. "Is it possible then to actually become a God?"

"Regrettably so," answered Phenax. "A planeswalker like yourself, a native Theran satyr, has accomplished this feat. He has also, regrettably, been exiled from our plane by a jealous God who was quite resistant to change. While in exile, it seems he has become part of a powerful army, much like the one I have gathered here. I have tracked his progress to many strange planes, many of which you are familiar with. I have enlisted your services to travel to these planes and face these foes in battle!"

"Forgive me for asking," Laquatus volunteered, "but why should we go seeking after these enemies? What cause do we have to fight?"

"Wherever there are minds wielding powerful magic, it is my duty to break them," thundered Phenax from the night sky. "The stronger, the better! I shall spread lies and deceit until the mortal realm is thrown into utter confusion. I know deep down in your hearts, you all have the same goal. Follow me onto the battlefield, my minions, and take the glory you deserve!"

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The above account is a possible flavor text inspired story of how a Magic: The Gathering Commander deck led by Phenax, God of Deception might have come into existence. For those of you who don't recognize most of the phrases in the preceding sentence, I hope the narrative was at least somewhat enjoyable.

Speaking of narrative, that's actually the goal I have when creating a Magic deck: to tie all the mechanics and characters and flavor together in a way that makes sense creatively, while also not being too embarrassingly bad to play with. Of course, I quickly and frequently question this goal whenever I play with those decks, since my friends' decks are for the most part built to win, period. But the silver lining is that losing repeatedly only inspires me to justify my obsession with the flavor aspects of Magic by writing stories like this, rather than driving me to break from my principles and make my decks ruthlessly overpowered with an eye towards nothing but gaining the victory.

I'll probably write some more about how these decks actually play some other time, so those of you who enjoyed reading about these characters can learn a little bit about how they interact in the game space. Until then, I'll just continue striving towards the dream of making a deck that's both playable and flavor relevant.