Not All That Glitters Is Gold

Well, that didn't last long. Where's that archivist I was clamouring for years back?

The Punchline is Odd Flavour Moments

A jellyfish, a skyship and a shard of broken glass walk into a bar.

The bartender, being a planeswalker on the side, requests that the jellyfish pilot the skyship for his amusement. The jellyfish replies "Hey, don't look at me. I'm just a jellyfish. I have no idea how to drive that thing."
The bartender nods, seeming disappointed. Then, after a moment's deliberation, he hands the jellyfish the shard of broken glass.
"Thanks," replies the jellyfish, wielding it expertly. "In fact, you know what, I think that I can pilot that ship... so long as I have this, anyway." Immediately, it climbs into the flagship and starts its engine. Reaching in after it, the bartender takes the shard of broken glass back.
"Keep it," replies the jellyfish. "Now that this baby's started I'm sure I can still pilot this thing."
The bartender then gives the shard of broken glass to the ship itself, which also wields it expertly. Taping the shard of glass to the hull of the titanic, flying, magic-shooting skyship improves its firepower by over 15%. The bartender is so amused by the absurdity of the situation that he doubles over in laughter, but in doing so he accidentally releases an errant bolt of lightning, killing the jellyfish pilot immediately.
"Worry not," says the ghost of the jellyfish's now-cooling corpse. "When I set my mind to something I'm gonna do it, and not even death will stop me. I'll pilot this here ship one final time from beyond the grave if I have to." The flagship then takes off, to the bartender's immense satisfaction.

Having watched the entire exchange from across the room, a mindless null shambles up to the bar. "Hey," says the mindless null, being completely mindless and having zero capacity for thought, speech or purposeful action. "That was quite the sight. Listen, I'm an aspiring pilot myself, but I see you're fresh out of shards of broken glass. Is there any way you can help me pilot that giant skyship once the dead jellyfish brings it back?"

Without a word, the bartender takes out a chariot.

Does Not Compute

Mark Rosewater has done some positive things for the game of Magic, but I have trouble believing he's done many of them. Why, you ask? Because he keeps pointing to the same tiny handful of decisions time and time again!

Memers of Kaladesh

Skywhaler's Shot

 

"So just how good of a skywhaler are you?"

"Oh, I'm just about the best. Seriously. You point it out and I can shoot it down."

"Is that so? Could you shoot down a bank of mist?"

"Easy peasy."

"Oh, really? How about a tidal wave?"

"Yawn."

"Could you take out every single wasp in a swarm with just one, single harpoon?"

"With my eyes closed."

"Yeah? How about that worm floating around in a lake down there?"

"Well geez, let's not be ridiculous. Nobody can just skewer a worm with a harpoon. Don't you have any serious offers?

"Well... what about that other worm next to it? It's got some paint on it."

"Oh, pfft. Broad side of a barn. Say no more, he's a goner. By the way, I think I'm a little bit psychic."

Eye of the Tiger

"Rising up, back on the streets
did my time, took my chances
went the distance
now I'm back on my feet
just a man and his will to survive

So many times, it happens too fast
You trade your passion for glory
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past
you must fight just to keep them alive

(chorus)
It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight
rising up to the challenge of our rival
and the last known survivor
stalks his prey in the night
and he's watching us all with the
Eye of the tiger

Face to face, out in the heat
hanging tough, staying hungry
they stack the odds
still we take to the street
for the kill with the skill to survive

(chorus)

Rising up, straight to the top
had the guts, got the glory
went the distance
now I'm not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive

(chorus)

Eye of the tiger (hold on a minute...)"

Dies to Removal

She would forever be safe from stray lightning bolts, from the gouts of flame, from the death-magic that had stolen the lives of so many of her people. Her dreams were still haunted with visions of those molten bolts of death; that crackling, violet lance of energy that suddenly siezed her best friend and scout-mate, Lydia. Their eyes met for an instant, they wordlessly shared a goodbye that lasted an eternity, and then Lydia was gone. The elves were forever fighting against all odds, and she was trapped in the center of it all - as if in sanctuary, forced to watch helplessly as her people continually were killed all around her.

...but her bloodline kept her safe. Like her mother and her grandmother before her, some ancient, esoteric arcane ward protected her from magic. Her remaining friends claimed she was lucky. Her ambush commander once told her she was blessed... but she knew better. For she knew the truth; what she had was not a blessing, but a curse. She was safe from the death-spells, yes, but with this came a heavy price. A price that she had to pay every day - some sort of indecipherable magic forbiddance. It could not be overcome; she could only try to live with it. For as a result of her magical nature...

...she could not wear pants.