“Hail!… er, what is your name again, young man? Ah, it matters not; it only matters that you are a noble soul, very noble indeed, and are now in a noble place! It is with great honor that I introduce myself: I am Dibln, a Planar Guide, and by the command of the Great Major Leevn Camelo, I have rescued you from the wretched lair of Maleficent. You are safe, now; your mind will no longer be poisoned by his treacherous, wicked, vile lies.

“It is lucky that I found you when I did, lest you be twisted forever by that filth and his dungeon of depraved cruelty. This is the kind of garbage we must rid from this world! And you, good, noble sir, will help us do that. Come, let us meet Commander Rhaas Briwen, so that we may welcome you into our ranks. You see, it is we who will purify this world of such scum, so that we may live peacefully, by what we know is right. You do want to make the world a better place, do you not? Of course you do! Our plane is in an endless battle of good versus evil, and good will eventually triumph as it is meant to, with help from such noble soldiers as you.

“Yes, we must use force in these dire times. Do you believe it is unfortunate we must do so? Well of course it isn’t! Don’t be blind; the only way we can live without fear of evil is by ridding it from our sight – for those certain souls have no hope of joining us, as you do. Yes, you are a lucky one.

Lucky indeed. It’s just like White to be so utterly self-righteous that they become blind and corrupt. Yes, today we will be exploring the evil of Magic’s most “pure” color (or so many believe), that of angels and heroic soldiers, of freedom and life!

Pshaw.

‘Tis only a mask to cover the ugliness that lies within. And some ugly it is. For starters, White thrives on Fascism; that is, a militaristic government headed by one person with total control, which takes pride in its nation and/or race. So if you belong to that nation and/or race, it’s pretty swell. Otherwise, well, the Nazis weren’t very well loved by everyone, were they?

White has another side to it as well, a religious side. Now, I’m not saying all religion is evil, but it certainly is a good way to make a bunch of loyal followers for yourself. It can be used in many ways – for money like the Orzhov, or, say, an army – but when strictly used for some purpose, rather than because it’s right and moral and whatnot, it can easily turn bad. Evil or not, it’s a powerful thing, and White is Magic’s color that most greatly exploits it.

But to begin, let us focus on the idea of having a single, all-powerful leader, as in a Fascist government. There is a slight chance that leader is good and moral and kind and yeah like that will ever happen; what human (or other intelligent creature) isn’t at least a bit corrupt? Especially when they have total control. More power equals more corruption, and with that much of it, and the realization they can basically do anything, it’s much easier to bring the evil out of a person. And, as we all know, nobody is perfect.

The Guide brings you upon a fairly modest tent within the camp of the army you are now a part of; it is larger in size and than the rest, and well guarded – with one soldier on either side of the entrance, while the rest have none – but otherwise it is no different. All of them are colored pure white, with no markings, and the doorway of each tent is covered. Dibln pulls back the front flap to let himself and you in, nodding to each guard as you both pass. Inside stand two statuesque figures, clad in armor and stately robes – showing off their rank – in conference with another man, also clad in armor but with no robes – a mere soldier of some sort.

Only the one with more fanciful robes was speaking, perhaps a higher ranking officer. The other stood stock still, with no expression whatsoever, as the soldier listened intently to his superior’s instructions. You overhear part of the conversation as you enter.

“…Do not let one escape! All must be cleansed. Understand?”

“Yes, commander.”

“Good. In two days’ time I expect you to have complete control over the area. It will make a fine new base for us. If only those blasted barbarians weren’t so thickskulled, perhaps we could have them among us. Unfortunately, that is not the case, and they must be purified from our land. Now, to your duties, general. Make us proud.”

The general bowed deeply to his commander before exiting the tent, his features as blank as those of the man standing beside the commander. Once the general is gone, Dibln introduces the two others to you as Commander Rhaas Briwen and Major Leevn Camelo, by his side.

“Planar Guide Dibln… I see you have a new recruit for us?”

“Yes, commander.”

“Good, you are excused.”

Without another word, Dibln bows to Rhaas and leaves the tent in a hurry, in much the same manner as the general. The commander stares at you hard for a short moment, measuring you up. He reaches his decision quickly and without a trace of doubt.

“You will make fine infantry. The Requisition is always in need of more soldiers to fight for our cause – the cause. Once you have proven your worth, you may be promoted; but for now, Major Camelo will assign you your first duties. You both are excused. I have dire tasks in need of immediate attention, and require privacy. No one will be allowed to enter for the next couple hours. To your duties, major.

The major bows to the commander, takes you out of the tent silently, and leads you through the camp. There are many, solemn soldiers going about their business in such an orderly manner; you would think them brainwashed. But you aren’t allowed time to mull it over, as the major begins speaking.

“As infantry, you are one of many whom make up the Hand of our wise commander, which fights for the cause, and dies for the cause without question. That is what it means to be noble, and in death, you will be honored for your service. We care not for those too cowardly to sacrifice themselves for a purpose, but our rehabilitation camp will make anyone into the perfect soldier, so long as evil has not corrupted their minds beyond the point of return.

“You may wonder why such a prestigious army as ourselves lives in a modest camp such as this,” the major continued, paying you no attention as if he’s rehearsed this conversation many times before in exactly the same manner, “Well, the Evil is everywhere, and we must always be on the move to keep it under control. We do not always kill our enemies, only when it is necessary. More often we put them in the rehabilitation camp, to cleanse their minds and gain us more allies, so long as their minds are not so corrupt that they would resist us, of course.

“Above all, we serve our wise leader with strict obedience and loyalty. He is the most wise, chosen by our Lord, and we do not question his motives. To do so would be traitorous.

“Ours is a difficult task, as corruption runs rampant through our world, and our leader is the light that will guide us through the darkness to salvation – the hand of the Lord Himself. We hold true to his words and his wishes, for he is the mind that drives our force, and we are the means by which his dreams and our dreams alike come true, for they are one and the same. By serving our purpose righteously, we are guaranteed a place in Heaven.”

But who even knows if there is a heaven? Or any afterlife, for that matter? That, my friends, is the power of faith at work.

The leader(s) of any clan have to be able to control their forces at all times, lest they fall into chaos. This is especially important with a single leader, because less sides of the story are taken into view. There is a great deal of trust required, so how can that be gained?

One way would be honesty. Everyone can appreciate an honest leader, one who makes good decisions and regular progress. But then, gaining every single person’s respect is not at all an easy task – everyone is different and has different opinions. If opposing opinions began to spread, your ruler ship would be in jeopardy. So how can one get hundreds of people to believe exactly the same thing, to ensure your hold on power? Manipulation, of course! I know, I know, White isn’t the color of discard or meddling, but it is the color of religion.

Ah, yes, the most manipulative force known to man! Or maybe not, but it is quite effective. All you need is a fine story, a handful of believers, and start spreading! “If you follow us, you will go to a heavenly place when you die! Knowing this, you will live long, happy lives! But—,” there’s always a but, “—to get there, you must do what is right. And to do what is right, you must follow these simple rules of ours...” Then, insert whichever rules fit your preferences and/or needs, and somehow incorporate them in that story of yours.

Now that is some kind of brainwashing. The power of faith. Make brilliant promises you’ll never be forced to keep, and threaten to take them away (or worse, just say, “Traitors do not deserve to live!”) if anyone steps out of line. With such a group of faithful followers, you essentially have a readymade army – just add weapons and presto! Let them bring justice to all wrought with sin!

Ah yes, justice, an incarnating force of angelic beings, another White aspect. But justice in itself is neither good nor evil, it is merely the act of punishing the wicked. This, of course, raises the question, “Who are the wicked?” Yes, who decides these things? Who makes the rules? Who has the final word in what is good or evil? Who other than the supreme ruler of all mankind – God himself? But since He does not speak directly to the people, he needs a prophet of some kind, a leader, one trusted by the people… and herein lays the great deception.

And since it just so happens that with most any White clan of Magic, that leader is one of a Fascist-style government, you have yourself a band of fierce warriors who are loyal to the end and then some. Now, what to do with such an army…

Major Camelo guides you to a huge clearing in the center of the nomadic village. A large canopy covers it, and before you a banner hangs from it. It reads, simply, “Live”. Mirrors are placed on either side of you, forming a path, and are faced toward the banner, alighting it in a heavenly glow from the sun’s reflected light.

The major nods to the banner and says, “This is our truest faith: To Live. All life magic is sacred to us, by the teachings, and magic that ends or impairs life is unholy and wretched. There is no need for violence, only life, though the Evil can only learn by that which they know: Killing. We wish to scour the world of all those who would do evil upon others, so that they may live, like us. We may give our lives in doing so, but we also save many more. This is our true cause.”

Underneath the canopy is a group of soldiers, perhaps four hundred or so – some relaxing on the ground, others talking, and a few gazing at pieces of paper lying on a large table in the center. One soldier in particular watches you closely as you enter. He seems to be… different from the others, somehow, the look in his eyes, but he turns his head when you return his gaze.

At the major’s entrance, all become silent, stand to attention, and salute him, which he returns. He strides to the tables and introduces you to Lieutenants Mairnicl and Llainiv, the highest in command for the operation you’re about to be a part of.

Then, looking down at the papers, which you now see are maps, Mairnicl traces a path with his finger while explaining, “Our best plan of attack is from the East, where our scouts have found a hidden entrance that appears unguarded. There will most likely be traps, but they should be easier to deal with than the army that guards the North, which is also probably littered with traps, knowing the wretch. We cannot expect a noble fight from him.

“Once our party is inside, we will split up into first Platoons, and then Squads as we come upon more pathways. The place is like a maze, and we’ll need to comb every inch of it.”

Major Camelo nods and asks, “How many Platoons will be required?”

“Ten will be sufficient.”

“400 soldiers? That’s nearly half our army.”

“It is not a simple place. There will be losses…”

“Yes, but it will be worth it once this menace is gone,” Camelo sighs. He then nods to you and says,

“This one is a new recruit, picked up from near the area just today. Let’s get ‘em out there for some experience.”

“Yessir,” Mairnicl salutes the major, who returns the salute and turns to leave.

Once he’s gone, Llainiv calls out to everyone, “Attention, Soldiers of the Requisition! Briefing begins now, then we head out!”

Mairnicl continues, “We attack from the East, headed by Llainiv and myself. We will come upon many crossways once we enter. Forty from the main group will head down each path, and from there, split up in tens. The mission is simple: Search and Destroy. We are looking for the one known as Maleficent. We will track him down and kill him on the spot.

The place will surly be well defended, so keep your guard up at all times. Once Maleficent is dead, we will cleanse the rest of his dungeon. There will be a scout with each group to keep track of your progress and map the labyrinth. Afterwards, we will gather here,” Mairnicl gestures to the map, just behind the North entrance, “and attack his army guarding the main entrance from behind en force. They are undead, so we will go unnoticed by them until it is too late.

“Now, form up! It’s time to bring the light into the depths of hell!” With that, Llainiv hands you your armor and sword while the others get ready for the invasion.

“Kill, kill, kill!!” What else is an army to do? Defend? Ha! The world can’t be shaped to your liking when all your army does is defend. Attack! Slay the “unworthy” and convert the rest! Hm, that sounds familiar….

A bit from the story Phyrexian Creations, by J. Robert King in Myths of Magic:

Yes! Convert the willing, and kill the rest of the vile, imperfect creatures! How like Black, White is. The only difference is their idea of perfection, that is, their “religion”.

In Phyrexia, the belief is to evolve through Phyresis and become something greater: A Phyrexian. In Yawgmoth, it is possible. Well, evolving is a good thing. Who wouldn’t want to be stronger and smarter? There is, however, the bit about destroying those who defy their god. The Phyrexians are seen as monsters for their differences, and since it’s only natural for people to fear what is unknown to them, they fear the Phyrexians. If they could only see them for the perfected creatures they are, they would realize the glory of it all. But, if they cannot… well, they won’t have to worry about it much longer.

For some random White cult, say they desire world peace. That’s something most everyone desires. The only way for world peace, however, is for everyone to get along. Meaning, they will all have to think the same way, and share the same beliefs. Conflicting religions ruin everything (take the real world, for example, with Muslim and Catholicism). You would not be able to change everyone’s mind to fit your beliefs, so what do you do with the rest of the “filth”? Oh, yes, you’re part of a militaristic group as well – kill them!

So that’s what it comes down to, “Live with us or die”. The Final Solution, if you will. White is no better than Black. Perhaps even worse. White hides behind glory and honor, trying vainly to justify its actions – “Look at us! We’re the good guys! Let’s kill the bad ones… and if you don’t help us, you’re bad too!” – whereas Black is out there for everyone to see – “This is what we do. If you don’t like it, we’re gonna kill ya.”

To quote Yawgmoth, speaking to Urza and Gerrard in his Inner Sanctum:

“All living things will bow before us. All things that do not bow will die. Even you, our greatest foes, lie now upon your faces in worship – and you live.”

It is the same guideline for both sides… except White probably would not let their greatest enemies live. Too risky. Better to kill them as an example and recruit the lesser individuals who are easier to brainwash with glorified lies.

Bear in mind that this is only White in general; there are always exceptions. And unfortunately for them, they don’t often last very long to be one.

Your new armor is not a perfect fit, and it smells used, but that is a small price to pay for the chance to do such good deeds, as the Major had said. Not everyone is blessed with the gift of understanding and clear sight, but you are, and you see the truth. You quietly cite a short prayer of thanks you overheard another soldier saying, and feel a great rush of pride. That is when the commotion begins.

Yells and shouts come from across the tent, and you look up just in time to see one of the soldiers swinging his sword to decapitate the head of another, which goes flying and lands neatly on the map table, splattering Llainiv and Mairnicl in gore and staring up at them blankly. Mairnicl growls and throws the head out of the tent, furiously shouting, “Atrocity! Traitor! Kill him!”

Dozens of soldiers leap on the traitor at once, but he does nothing except glare at you. He is the same soldier who was looking at you earlier, with the strangle look in his eyes. You feel guilty for not having reported this, but decide you will make up for it by killing him, and you stride up to the man, sword at the ready.

He pushes some of the others off and speaks to you, “Don’t listen to their lies! They’re no better than Malef-,” he is cut off by your sword through his throat. Gurgling helplessly, shock written all over his face, he slumps to the ground and you withdraw your bloody sword, looking down at the man in disgust.

Someone places their hand on your shoulder and says in a deep voice, “Well done, recruit. We have no need for the likes of him. They would destroy us. It was a mistake to bring him in, but we offer life to all. It is their choice to accept it or not.” You merely nod.

The man – Llainiv – calls out to the others to form up once more and set out. The others can take care of the mess; you have work to do.

Striding out of the command tent, you see that the rebellion was not limited to the single man. Everywhere, there was blood. The pure white tents were stained with dark red splotches and gore. The mirrors that were reflecting the light of the heavens onto the Requisition’s true faith were broken and shattered, capturing the word in twisted ways and reflecting it upon the eyes of the soldiers.

Atrocity.

But with much difficulty you push this from your mind. The traitors will be (or have been) executed, and the encampment will be returned to its former glory, modest though it was. You have your own cleaning up to do.

Yes, those clothes of yours are a bit messy from stabbing that guy – better wash that off! Oh, wait, when White talks about cleaning, it actually means killing. Go figure.

Anyway, as I draw closer to concluding this, I would like to argue against all that I have said so far. One point of view is never good, so here is a quote from Death by Beebles:

This is very true, nothing can be pure good or pure evil, for they cannot exist without each other. However, I commonly see that people view the main conflict in Magic to be between White and Black, in the case of good vs. evil. There are limitless conflicts in Magic (life vs. death, order vs. chaos, and yes, good vs. evil), but no specific color is good or evil, or even wholly set in any ideal.

Black has its good sides, and White has its bad; nothing is perfect, right? White still has the power of healing and life, and there are some people (Caregiver, for example) who use that power for what they think is good, and only that.

They also work as a group very well. White weenie decks are perhaps the best at proving this in the strategic Magic world – lots of little creatures banding together for a common purpose and never relenting, even in the face of certain death. With that mind set, they may even defeat it. Some may be mindless fanatics, but not all are, of course.

Whether fighting for true glory or not, they are honorable warriors (for the most part ). They are not cowards, and often have a fierce determination to do whatever they believe is right. Even if that means purging my dungeons (like they have a chance, ha!).

Mairnicl and Llainiv march at the head of the army, and you, freshly suited with gleaming armor and a sword, follow them diligently with the rest. It did not take much reasoning to make you a believer. You know what you fight for, and you do it with no regrets. You are proud to be part of the Requisition, knowing the difference you can make in the world; to bring life, and end death. It’s a glorious thing, and you’re making it happen.

You also feel pride that you caught on so quickly. You did not need to enter the Rehabilitation Camp, like so many others who were rife with corruption. You have the Heart of Purity in you, and you are destined for greatness. The major, before you left on your quest, said this himself. You will eagerly fight, kill, and die for the cause, and proof of that is coming soon.

The dungeon is near.

To think, you only barely escaped this dark, filthy place, but the Requisition saved you. They took you from the grip of Maleficent, the wretch, told you of his lies and showed you the truth. Even now, the head of the army enters the labyrinth, slaying the beasts that seem to appear from nowhere; cleansing it.

How cowardly they fight – hiding in shadows and leaping out at your back when you least expect. Where’s the honor? There is not even a trace of it in the “life” these things have. No true warrior should be raised from the dead to fight. It will be a mercy to slay these things. You can’t wait to show them mercy – to show them life.

Yes, this is a battle of life and death. It couldn’t be more obvious which side is fighting for what. An army of the living against an army of the dead – each dead slain another life given. These beasts that would slay others for their own gains, you kill them to save others. Your sword cuts into your first victim – a ghastly undead human, already dead yet forced to live on. Show them life. End the death.

Very little gets past the guard of your army. For every one of yours slain, ten undead are freed. Their corpses, long dead, litter the floors as you march past. How wonderful this is! The faces of your warriors show grim satisfaction. It’s a messy job, but someone has to do it.

The army comes upon a corridor with many crossways – the path splits seven ways here. The group is split apart to take each corridor, forty each way, and the rest continuing down the main hall. You veer left with your platoon, the rhythmic stomping of your boots matching those of the other platoons as you continue on – the march of life.

The sounds of the others slowly fade away as they grow farther apart, until they are gone completely, scouring the dungeon. Maleficent could not have predicted an attack such as this. He will not stand a chance. The path grows darker ahead, yet the soldiers, the force of life, lights the way. A rumble begins. It seems to come from everywhere at once, and dust falls from the ceiling. The soldiers go on heedless, determined, confidant – right into a trap.

An enormous chunk of stone falls from the ceiling, smashing a dozen soldiers at once into a bloody pulp, spraying you with gore and blocking the passage completely. Abomination! What beast hides behind rocks to slay their foe? Who but the most wicked fights not himself, but with invisible traps? Flushing with anger, you only grow more eager to kill that beast, to end this death, and you rush to the head of your squad. It is eagerness and fortitude such as this that will excel you in The Requisition. You smile, and charge all the harder, the platoon following you.

It seems you go on forever, not seeing a single monster. Traps litter the way, picking off a few of your group at a time – you move too fast for them to take more – yet there is nothing else. No rooms, no people, no creatures, nothing but death. It enrages you. Perhaps there is nothing but a dead end this way. It matters not – every inch must be scoured clean. Who knows what lies at the end? That is what you’re here to find out.

You see it. A light at the end of the tunnel, though through a purplish fog. It fills the corridor ahead, roiling and swirling as if it were alive. It seems odd, this fog, but you care not. The light from behind it shines through, lighting the walls and ceiling and floor. It gives you and the remaining of your group hope. This will be your moment of victory. “Charge!”

As you storm heedlessly through the Dungeon of Malefict at the head of your squad, into the purple fog, you realize that it is no ordinary fog – it is a fog of plague, and it is devouring the flesh and muscle from your bones. Within minutes you are dead; but you feel no fear or regret, for you know you will be honored for serving, and dying, for the cause.

Shameful. Such a waste of life, don’t you agree? But worry not, I’ll find use for you in the afterlife yet

And to begin your eternal slavery (no time to waste), we shall conclude the contest I created with the results of the entries I received from you readers! Stay tuned for the Villain(ess) Contest Results!

~Maleficent~

Maleficent, author of The Dungeon of Malefict, is Praetor of The [Order] of Phyrexia, and speaks for Yawgmoth himself. He hopes to spread the word of The Ineffable and all his greatness far and wide, so that more may learn of his wisdom and be accepted into his good graces. He also likes to spend his free time slaying the unworthy in a variety of gruesome and agonizing ways, recurring the corpses, and doing it all over again.

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Articles Spotlights from 2007:
Lorwyn Theme Week Intro & Schedule of Events
Blink And Bounce: Timing is Key
Going Blind: XCB Metagaming - A Prolonged Conclusion.
The Science of Magic: Genetic Engineering, Part Two.
Shifting Lineaments: Casual Metagaming (Pt. 2).
The Dungeon Of Malefict: Pure Evil!
Land Week Introduction & Schedule.
Combofusion: Legends Timeshifted.
One Card to Rule Them All: Coastal Piracy
Irrational Love: Chimeras. The Lego's of Magic.