Magic: The Glossary - Tarkir: Dragonstorm
Header Image by Eli Minaya
Welcome back to Magic: The Glossary, and welcome to Tarkir. The weather report is... not great.
Here at Magic: The Glossary, we scour the cards in a new set searching for words we've never known, incorrectly known, or known a little but not well enough to pass a vocabulary test. In other words, it's all about words. With Tarkir, Magic designers have done an excellent job teaching us made-up words, like Mardu or Temur, but how well have they done teaching us real words?
If you'd like to learn some words mined from previous sets, you can head into the archives:
That's a lot of words to learn, but luckily there's no test at the end of this, because we're talking about Magic, and there is no end of this. It will just keep going, forever, until the heat death of the universe.
Even though we have infinity, time wasted is time lost, there's no time like the present, and time and tide wait for no man. Time is what we want most, but what we use worst. We must govern the clock, and not be governed by it. So, it's time for Tarkir.
Clarion Conqueror
This particular card is a dragon. We're going to be seeing that a lot.
We've discussed in previous Magic: The Glossary entries that Magic designers really seem to love their alliteration, and with Clarion Conqueror, we get a triplet of "kuh" sounds to kick off our lexicographical codifying. But what is a clarion?
Well, there are multiple answers to that question, depending on exactly what the designers were hoping to evoke with this dragon. The most common definition of the word is a medieval trumpet that sounds really, really annoying, especially if you have any sort of aversion to shrill tones. You might recognize them from period art, or if you've ever been to a Mormon temple:
However, the word clarion has grown beyond just being the name for a specific type of proto-trumpet. As an adjective, clarion can mean "loud and clear"; a clarion call, if you will. Sometime that is unambiguous or unavoidable can be described as clarion.
So which is our dragon? Is it a loud and clear, unambiguous and unavoidable presence on the battlefield, or is it a skinny trumpet? I'll let you decide.
Osseous Exhale
When we exhale, it's not just carbon dioxide, like high school biology might have you believe. It's actually mostly nitrogen (78%), as well as around 17% oxygen. Only 4% is carbon dioxide, with the remaining 1-ish percent being a mixture of water vapor and other organic compounds like acetone and ethanol.
What is not usually in an exhalation, though, is bone dust. At least, not if you're doing it right.
That's what osseous means: related to bone. Judging by the art, the dragon is coughing up quite a bit of the stuff. And before you get any cosplay ideas, keep in mind that bone dust is extremely hazardous to breathe in (or, presumably, out).
Riling Dawnbreaker
This is a word that you've probably read many times before, but in a different form. It's the present continuous tense verb of "to rile," which means to make someone or something angry. But there's no sense in getting all riled up about it, unless you're a dragon foretold by omen.
Starry-Eyed Skyrider
We're not talking someone with literal stars in their eyes, but rather a metaphor meaning a person who regards something in a favorable, idealizing light. Our dragon-riding Human Scout here is starry-eyed about "adventure and mischief," as the flavor text informs us.
Aegis Sculptor
We see the word aegis on a ton of Magic cards. And by "a ton," I mean fourteen. All of those cards, including our Bird Wizard sculptor, are using the word in its more general definition of "a shield or protector."
If there's something you're protecting from outside harm, you could say that thing is under your aegis. The bag of gourmet jelly beans beside me as I write this is under my aegis due to outside threat from my partner's bean-based thievery. The connotation of aegis is usually positive, implying the protector is doing so benevolently and without ulterior motive.
However, it's one of those words that began as a very specific thing from mythology, in this case of the Greek variety. The Aegis, with a capital A, is mentioned in the Iliad as an object carried by Athena and Zeus, and described as either an animal skin or a more traditional shield, depending on translation. Regardless of its form, what's constant is it features the head of a Gorgon. It also "produced a sound as from myriad roaring dragons," which feels very appropriate for Tarkir.
Ambling Stormshell
To amble is to walk slowly and without concern. Just a leisurely stroll. A breezy constitutional. A perambulatory ramble. Big ol' turtles are probably a good creature with which to demonstrate an amble.
But what if you're World Heavyweight Champion boxer Primo Carnera? Then you'd be an Ambling Alp, because you're six-and-a-half feet tall and cruised around the ring in a slow and purposeful manner. You'd also have a Yeasayer song about Joe Louis fighting you, but you wouldn't know that, because you've been dead for almost 60 years.
Caustic Exhale
Not bone dust this time, but an unidentified goop that, again, is probably not healthy. If this exhalation is caustic, that means it's going to dissolve or eat away at that (or whom) with which it comes into contact, like an acid. The word caustic can also describe a person's wit, similar to acerbic or incisive, as being capable of particularly cutting retort. Judging by the art, though, I don't think we're talking about sarcasm.
And if you're curious what the rest of the cycle is, we've got Dispelling Exhale
Caustic is not to be confused with "corroding," though.
Corroding Dragonstorm
If we're being pedantic (and if we're not, what are we even doing here?), corrosion is specifically electrochemical oxidation of metal. You might know this better as rust.
The process of oxidation is a fascinating one that can really send you into a rabbit hole of reading if you're not already a chemist or a corrosion engineer, which is a real thing.
As a verb in common parlance, though, it describes in a more general sense the unpleasant process of gradual wearing away. It's one of those verbs that describes both doing the action and having the action done to you. "I am corroding" is a statement too vague to provide enough detail.
Still, to corrode can mean to undermine or slowly corrupt. For this card, however, we're seeing something much more immediate and less metaphorical.
Equilibrium Adept
As someone who is extremely not adept at equilibrium, this one hits too close to home.
We glean from the art that we're talking about balance here, and that's exactly what equilibrium means in this context: literal, physical balance.
But there are plenty of metaphorical meanings to equilibrium too, all related to balance, but in more esoteric ways. Reaching equilibrium with emotion, or ideas, can be just as difficult of a balancing act as standing on one's two feet.
As for etymology, this one's easy. It's Latin, meaning "equal weight," a state of being that certainly helps promote good balance.
Iridescent Tiger
This tiger is iridescent, meaning that it's got a pretty sheen most commonly seen in our world in unpretty circumstances, like an oil spill. Iridescent things seem to contain a rainbow's worth of color, shifting depending on angle and light.
As a native Detroiter, though, I prefer my Tigers to be in crisp whites with an Old English D.
Meticulous Artisan
Often, we hear the word meticulous to describe someone who pays attention to the details. Someone studious, or considerate.
However, its more accurate meaning is more extreme. It's related to being detail-oriented, yes, but in an excessive way. Someone who is truly meticulous is probably aware of those details to the detriment of the big picture, or at least their interpersonal relationships. The word also has a dual meaning of being persnickety, or so painstakingly focused on details that you're paralyzed.
We get the word from Latin, which gives us a clue to its true negative nature. The word for "fear" in Latin is "metus," which is the root of meticulous. This is all to say that meticulous is not really a compliment, but in our modern usage, the negative connotation is being corroded.
Redoubled Stormsinger
If you're being cute, you could say that something that has been redoubled is just doubled, again. Quadrupled, if you will.
But that's actually not that far off. Something that has been redoubled has been made twice as large, or twice as voluminous. I need to redouble my store of jelly beans due to pilfering from domestic marauders.
Zenith Festival
The zenith of something is the opposite of the nadir, which means nothing if you don't know or care about what a nadir is.
When it comes to celestial objects, like in the context of the card, we're talking about the object being at the height of its orbit as seen by a stationary observer. In other words, when it's directly overhead. It's when the celestial object simply can't get any higher. It's all downhill after the zenith.
Arbor Adherent
Typically, the adjective form of arbor is "arboreal," meaning related to, resembling or among trees. As a noun, an arbor is one of those trellises featuring latticework that go up and over to allow climbing vines to stretch out and take over in a designated area.
Our Dog Druid friend seems to adhere to a more adjectival definition, though it's hard to say.
Oh, and an adherent is one who is a believer or follower in an ideology, religion or similar belief system.
Craterhoof Behemoth
Most of the time, the word behemoth is used interchangeably with other big boy words like gargantuan, immense or mammoth. You know, large things.
But each of these terms have their own interesting history, and behemoth is no different. While many things can be behemoth, there's only one Behemoth, according to The Bible. Specifically, the Behemoth is basically a giant cow that appears in the Book of Job, grazing idyllically in a meadow, but with "bones like tubes of bronze" and a "tail standing up like a cedar." It's paired with a sea-dwelling super-beast whose name has also become shorthand for a very large critter, in Leviathan.
Was The Bible describing a dinosaur? No way to know, though Bible scholars suggest it could have been a hippo. But, you know, with a tail.
And remember, it's "buh-HE-muth." Often, it's mispronounced as "BAYA-moth."
Bone-Cairn Butcher
If you ever go on road trips or hikes, you've likely seen an intentionally stacked tower of stones. That's a cairn.
Typically, they're used as a landmark to orient oneself in the wilderness, or a sort of memorial in honor of something or someone. We get the term from Scottish Gaelic, and the act of constructing a cairn holds historical and cultural importance for our friends in Scotland.
And if you're a big ol' Mardu demon, you apparently build cairns out of bones, not stones.
Defibrillating Current
Unless you're a medical professional, or at least watch way too many medical-based dramas like some people (that's me, I'm some people), you might not know that to defibrillate a heart is to apply an electric shock to restore rhythm to a fibrillating heart.
And a fibrillating heart is a heart that is contracting irregularly. There are several types of fibrillation that we don't have to go into here, but it's important to remember that typically, a defibrillator is used on a heart beating rapidly and irregularly, not one that's stopped.
Electricity can be our friend, but it can also be our enemy. We know this from Magic cards, which are generally a great source of medical advice.
Lie in Wait
This is a good card to help you remember the difference between lie and lay. To lie is to put yourself in a prone position. You lie down.
To lay is to place something else horizontally. You lay down your empty bag of jelly beans in morose cheerlessness.
To "lie in wait," though, is not to take a nap to pass the time. It's to be sneaky in order to spring an ambush.
Perennation
We see this word as part of the lore of Tarkir, and it's a great one.
From a botanical standpoint, perennation is the ability of a plant to survive season to season. In other words, a perennial, as opposed to an annual.
But like many of the words we've talked about today, there's plenty of metaphorical use out of perennation beyond the core definition. It's often used to describe the act of persevering through strife to reach more favorable conditions. Like plants overwintering to reach the eventual spring sun, we as people can perennate through dark times in search of happiness.
Temur Tawnyback
Tawny's a color, specifically a warm, sandy brownish-orange. Or, if you're not one for color terms outside Roy G. Biv, it's basically blond.
Mox Jasper
Many of us would know Jasper as the vampire from Twilight that mumbles something about "battle scars," but it's also the name of a variety of quartz that comes in a variety of colors, but usually a dusty red.
Jasper is often used as a gemstone, which obviously fits right in line with the rest of the growing Moxen family. The word "jasper" comes from the Old French for "speckled stone," and it's been used in jewelry and ornamentation for around 3,000 years.
A Burden Shared is a Burden Lightened
That'll do it for Tarkir: Dragonstorm. Any words you're adding to your lexicon this time around?
