The conclusion of one mans' rapturous jaunt in Paris!

GP Paris: Mickey Mouse et Les Quatre Rapaces de L’Oumara du Mort: Part (2)

I elope from the Cheyenne Hotel Resort at 07.00 with a cartoon-chorus of snores in the background; imagine any one of Huey, Dewey or Louie tip-toeing past Uncle Scrooge and Donald, on their way to the crystal meth house. All the streets of this post-Klondike ghost town were eerily similar, so I fell in step with a posse of obvious weirdoes, only to find they were Marcio Carvalho and the Portuguese Mafia again. He makes an appropriate pantomime, or Disney, villain.

After a chat with personal hero Ollie Bird, I sat down for draft pod 1. Six rounds today would be a stroll compared to the gruelling exertions of the previous day.

My deck comes together in an odd fashion. As is modish, no-one drafts any green cards so I get choices like 9^th pick Gladeheart or River Boa. I also get a slow feed of playable blue cards accompanied by unplayable blue junk, giving me the slight brackish tang of availability. The reason for this is to become clear in time. If there is such a thing as a U/G Landfall deck I think I have drafted it, with multiple Territorial Baloths, double Harrow, Gladeheart, Boa, Windrider Eel, some Nissa’s Chosen and early stallers, plus Roil Elemental to hopefully bomb out unwary opponents. I cram in a Tempest Owl as tradebait for opposing Highland Berserkers.

Round 11: Ricardo Cardoso

Slightly sullen at the table, ‘in the zone’, with a sculpted beard and swarthy Iberian good looks. I make small-talk about my epic contests with countryman Carvalho, greeted with cursory nods.

He has a ‘bad white man’ rush strategy augmented with black, throwing every available Kor onto the table. I take a bit of early damage from a motley crew of Duelist, Outfitter, Kortographer and their ilk before stabilising with some chunky men of my own, including a Mold Shambler to destroy his second source of white mana. Threatening a fatal attack the next turn, I die to Windborne Charge cast with the benefit of a plains ripped straight from the virgin cards of his library.

Games 2 and 3, less memorable, illustrated a well-documented problems of black-white strategies – mana issues, in which he missed either double black or double white in both games. The forbidding, awesome power of an efficient blocker is also an effective route to victory. In game 2, after an early unkicked Into the Roil, it might have been a Nissa’s Chosen, or even a Tempest Owl, that put me into the late game and a rush of 4/4 landfall bodies. In game 3 it was a River Boa, wound tight around a Trusty Machete. Nothing asphyxiates like a 4/2 regenerating wall. Eventually I had enough mana to equip my attackers and reequip on defence and the game ended.

Ricardo offered me some helpful counselling in the aftermath of the game: ‘I don’t think your deck is very good’. Thanks!

8-3 

Round 12: Guillaume Baudois 

He’s a pugnacious blond Frenchman, with a suspicious mien. Keeps close tabs on my activities, counts the mana I’ve tapped for my spells and monitors my cards in hand perspicaciously. Some of these late-tournament matches are instantly forgettable, but not this.

Game one it becomes clear we both have glacially slow decks. I get in the early advantage with some huge men, but he has an excellent Allies base which puts the shutters up, including gigantic Blademasters and a Turntimber Ranger. He uses his tricks effectively, and attacks judiciously, whittling away my defences bit by bit. I have a few relevant cards I can draw but my deck offers up vanilla fat, Nissa’s Chosen or Oran-Rief Recluse with no targets. Even when he has twelve bodies and I’m down to my last Vastwood Gorger and assorted chumps, Roil Elemental is still an out for me, but he stays resolutely in the fathoms of the deck and I scoop them up. The length of the game, and the assiduous shuffling and fact-checking of my opponent, means we have devoured a good portion of the available round time.

Out go my recluses, in come Timbermaw Larvae, and onto game 2. I’m feeling smug when on turn 4 I’m swinging with an Umara Raptor with a Machete in his talons (anthropomorphism stretching the boundaries of imagination here), but he has not only the Recluse to kill my Raptor, but a Mold Shambler for my machete. I have a better blocking arrangement now and the game grinds down to fast turn completion, but with board developments progressing at mollusc-pace. I’ve mentally resigned myself to a 1-0 loss when I topdeck a Windrider Eel, it survives to my next turn and I realised I can put him on a clock.

At this point I swing in with the Eel, a 4/4, forgetting to put my Tempest Owl in the mix too (he’d been castrated by the recluse for the whole game and had lapsed from my thoughts, although to be fair to myself I noticed immediately after). He puts the spider in front of it, throws down Vines of the Vastwood. To think, I actually cursed when I drew Harrow three turns earlier…

With 1:39 left on the round, he shuffles my deck briskly post-Harrow – and throws one of my cards over his shoulder on the ground behind him. Not intentionally, but my eyebrows say all that needs to be said, and might have factored into later developments. We squeak into extra turns and I kill him with an unopposed Eel on turn 3, to tie it up at 1-1.

Guillaume offers the expected proposition of draw-serves-no-one. I’m staunch though, still not ‘pro’ enough that I’d take an almost eliminating defeat for the sake of ideology. He scribbles on the slip and passes it to me, declaring me the 2-1 victor. I was taken aback – it hadn’t been my experience before this point that people arguing for the concession ever to take it upon themselves, so good on him. Perhaps if I knew what was waiting in the next round I’d have pressed harder for the draw, which might have seen me paired down.

9-3 

Round 13: Guillaume Perbet

Guillaume 2 was feeding me in the draft, salt and salad. And the curious feeling I had about signalling was to be vindicated as his turn 1 play is Hedron Crab. For anyone unfamiliar with this particular draft archetype, he proceeds to tap, bounce, chump, counter and stall his way to the bottom of my library; the pick priority is different to normal blue decks.

The game gets to a critical stage where I have a Whiplash Trap and some bodies, where he has Merfolk Seastalkers, crab, Reckless Scholar and an Umara Raptor that must chump block my Machete-gripping Tempest Owl. He’s on 3, and I calculate that if he draws a land in his turn with an active Scholar, he’ll take my last card – so I blow the trap, reasoning that if he recasts the Seastalkers and Scholar he won’t have enough mana (and the scholar will now be inactive) to tap, I will get another turn and he will have to chump my Baloth and hopefully die. Unfortunately, the plan doesn’t come together (his Raptor survives, so I’m thinking he had a trick to deal with the swing I anticipated would necessitate a flying chump block). Nonetheless, I have him dead on the board if he doesn’t draw an island. He does.

James Sampford points out post-game I might have cast the bounce spell at a different point, rather than committing more creatures to the board. With hindsight he was definitely right, but (and this is not always the case) I had thought through a plan to victory at that point which I was acting out. At this point I’ll note how singularly unreasonable it is to present the humble U/G player with a milling opponent. I had a single card in my library capable of dealing with a Hedron Crab – Turntimber Basilisk. I drew him on the penultimate turn in game 1.

I’ve dumped loads of cards for as aggressive a strategy as my sideboard can offer, chucking Paralysing Grasp and Vastwood Gorger for pump spells and the like. But in Game 2 he doesn’t need to mulligan to find a crab and commences the milling quickly. I get him down to 12, but he Rite of Replications the crab and mills me for 6. I have Into the Roil for the token, but he has a second crab and I’m gone in seconds. Turns out he had three of the bastards. He should go to a clinic.

9-4 

Draft pod 2 and I’m on the cash-bubble, needing to win out to have a chance of a top 64 place. I’m disappointed to have lost my chance of a Pro Tour invite, but 6-0 was a tough ask, and the mill matchup was unforgiving in the extreme. Commence one of the strangest drafts I’ve ever experienced.

Pack one I pick up a mish-mash of black, white and blue cards, but the critical pick is the fifth, when I see Umara Raptor. A strong signal. I take it, but then see almost nothing except average strength black and white cards. By the end of the pack I have good white, two good blue cards, and some weak black playables. Next pack I open and take a Shepherd of the Lost, and get passed Kor Skyfisher and … Marsh Casualties. In my mind the decision boils down to the Umara Raptor versus that ugly B/W manabase. I cringe, take the Skyfisher, and pass the superb uncommon. Pack 2 is even worse than pack 1 from this point – I get Makindi Shieldmate, some other generic deck-aggregates, and nothing else. Surveying the wreckage of my draft at the end of pack 2, I am thumbing my Noble Vestige (creature #6) and wondering how to best rationalise his inclusion.

Then comes pack 3. Who’d have thought I could feel a surge of gratitude, love, humility, towards eight collections of fifteen random cards? The drama begins with Roil Elemental, whose performances in the previous draft have me wary of his inconsistencies. And then… and then…

Raptor #2, Ethon, the liver-ripping tormentor of Prometheus, offspring of monstrous Typhon and Echidna.

Raptor #3, Alecto, first of the Erinyes, the relentless, winged persecutor of evil men.

Raptor #4, Celaeno, darkest of the harpies, harrier of the sinful.

The humble Kes of pack 1 was joined by three mean-spirited, brutalising big siblings: now I had a veritable army of Stymphalian beasts, stirges, Hitchcockian nightmares. And what better compliment to my falcons than one, or two… or three more Makindi Shieldmates? Perhaps an Ondu Cleric… All this and I get to pass a third pick Ob Nixilis downwind. In the end I maindeck something like ten or twelve cards from pack 3.

Round 14: Raphael Levy

There was only one recognisable name at the draft table, and here he is: Hall of Fame star Raphael Levy. As I conceded in the earlier passages of my tournament report, I’m still a wannabe; still a respecter of reputations. The dice are not, and I win the roll; I mentally prepare for a perfect curve and wonder how I can deal with it. Then I look at my opening hand: Plains; Plains; Island; Shieldmate; Shieldmate; Raptor; Raptor. When he doesn’t make early drops, I put the Raptors down first and slaughter him with a dragon and an air elemental backed up with some ground glue.

So far so good. His deck basically did nothing in game 1. But it couldn’t be so easy in game 2. My hand is Ondu Cleric, Shieldmate and some other spells and lands. He makes Steppe Lynx, Ondu Cleric with a Goblin War Paint on it; I make a cleric and gain a life, then make a 1/4 wall and gain 2 life. I make another 1/4 wall and gain 3 life. Seascape Aerialist for 4 life. Eventually I draw some stirges; he slopes further and further down in his chair, eventually asking me openly whether he’s dead or not. I flash him four combat tricks, which I STILL HAD ALL OF. Scalped!

10-4 

Round 15: Manuel Faber

A burly German gentleman with a very pronounced play style, each spell, target, interaction enunciated in a slow, exacting way. This methodical strategy seems to work well for him, as he doesn’t make any glaring errors and carves out opportunities from unfavourable positions.

Game 1 and unfortunately for him there’s nothing his B/W deck, which seems light on removal, can do about hawks from some opiate-fuelled horror story, which rip him asunder and pick his bones clean. I think I might have made three…

Game 2 is much more interesting, and might have been the best game I’ve been involved in in recent memory. He has Bloodseeker early in the game, plus Hookmaster returned with Skyfisher to lock down my defences. I take repeated beatings, can’t find my only Ondu Cleric to replenish my life total, and fall to four life. He swings with a Kor Skyfisher, my Raptors have flown the coop, and I drop to 2. That’s one man I can afford to make… and I draw Roil Elemental. First on the agenda is dealing with that Kor Skyfisher which is threatening lethal the next turn. Then bit by bit I pick off all his men: first the Bloodseeker, then Hookmaster, Sanctifiers x2, and kill him with his own army. He uses Soul Stair Expedition to stay in the game, but I have Summoner’s Bane for his second Skyfisher. Manuel flashes me a handful of land – for about eight turns I was dead to a single removal spell, or even one more body pre-Roil. He takes the exceedingly close loss with good grace, and I recognise siding out Roil Elemental in round 14 might have been an error.

11-4

Round 16: Michael Robin

This is the guy I’ve been passing to in the draft and he’s playing… U/W. That explains pack 2. The tournament has come down to a single match – not that 11-5 would be a failure, but there feels like a gulf in achievement between a prize-winning finish and a generic top 100 placing. Michael is intense. During the hiccups in getting the draft started, he doesn’t return wry smiles. His expression is neutral-fierce. Urk.

Game one I successfully implement my allied strategy. Unfortunately the allies I make are all Makindi Shieldmates, and he has Paralysing Grasp for my single raptor. At one point I throw away my Shepherd of the Lost by attacking into a telegraphed Arrow Volley Trap, which might have been the only way his deck could deal with it. Turns out a plethora of walls don’t handle Windrider Eels or Welkin Terns well, and I’m 0-1 in the hole.

Game two and the raptors are back, but he has Paralysing Grasp for the first. He summons a large army and the board is stalled, with a Windrider Eel on a three-week cruise to Nowhere; however, the holiday is cut short by a kicked Kor Sanctifiers returning the flying fish, and a Sphinx of Jwar Isle, which he apparently opened in pack 3. My life spirals downwards to single figures, but I employ my professional skills to rip Roil Elemental and steal the Eel. Now his Sphinx can’t profitably attack, but I can’t mount a full-scale assault in case a bounce spell changes the dynamics of the game. His frustration grows and I realise he probably has no answer to the Elemental. I take creature after creature, throwing them back into his Sphinx; Adventuring Gear puts my second Raptor to a 5/5 which I swing with, trying to force the Sphinx trade, but he has the Arrow Volley Trap for it. He makes Shepherd of the Lost, praying I’m out of lands, but I have one more. He Narrow Escapes the angel to keep control, and Into the Roil removes his last non-Sphinx blocker so I can sweep in with him tapped out.

From a one-match decider to a one-game decider. I should be feeling confident, since his deck is worse than mine, but instead I’m a little anxious.

My anxiety strikes almost immediately, playing just too fast, dropping a raptor and sort of half-waving priority over, as though my brain is clinging to the necessity to token him up. I’m half a second too late in my realisation – I think if I’d just brass-necked it and put the token on, I might have got away with it. Anyway, I have some pride so I just shake my head. Aiste coaches me to slow down my play, so I hush her up – outside interference! Fortunately I have a second raptor, so I’m not forced to swing with a 3 mana 1/1. Then a Shieldmate, so I get in for another 6. He counters the Skyfisher that would have ramped my Raptors even further, with what I guess was a sideboarded Mindbreak Trap.

He has TWO Grasps for both Raptors, and my offensive is gone. I do have an Ondu Cleric though, growing my allies and gaining me life to play with. The game is poised, but I have over 20 life to my opponent’s 12 – we both have Shepherd of the Lost in play, some small white men, and threats locked down under enchantments. Then I draw Roil Elemental.

12-4

I feel an indigestive rumble of guilt at playing poorly, and Michael’s explosion of French at the conclusion of the game, to his nearby friend, might have been an invective at the fundamental injustice of the universe and the talentless grunt who’d just bombed him out of contention for top 64. But as I saunter into 48^th place out of the 2000 strong field, I forgive myself the occasional lapse of concentration; talent will out. I go for a celebratory meal in Planet Hollywood, picking the deep-fried LA Lasagna to fulfil stereotypical expectations of a Glaswegian native. It was as bad as it sounds. And bloody expensive, to fulfil some more Scottish stereotypes.

I felt success in Paris went some way to ameliorating my own lingering suspicions that Brighton was a total, hopeless fluke of fortune, an evolutionary quirk, the coin toss that came up heads twenty times in a row, an Intacto moment (I recommend this film), the last vestiges of my beginner’s luck. Alright, I could never be the next Gary Campbell, but maybe, someday, I might be half of the next Ed Ross. I still have the deck, safely stowed away, for anyone interested in making the acquaintance of Les Quatre Rapaces de L’Oumara du Mort. Let’s not forget the Shieldmates either; they played their roles to perfection – I think they’d be a good choice for a future Disney franchise.

Recommended for well-remunerated voice-over roles in the upcoming movie Zendikards: 

Marco OJ for granting me sleeping space, and acting as my Parisian guide on our flanerie.

Ben Lei and Richard B for giving me the best sleeping spot.

Raphael Levy for giving a scrub like me a high five when I won our draft pod. Class is permanent.

The Scots and the English, for getting on well with each other.

Disneyland. I still have fond memories of my childhood trip to Orlando, but not for adults.

The Paris Metro system. Comprehensive, but we aged 18 months trying to find a CS representative to ask questions.

All the ‘Just Speak English’ team – I’m trying, cut me some slack.

Marijn Lybaert for being so hot, yet so cold and aloof.