We’re killing them. If you don’t want to help, then you can die along with the fish-eyed bastards.

— Marak, hunter of Umungshore

Sigh for the fish-eyed bastards! Sigh for the petulantly placed cheek-tusks! Will we ever see this intriguing race—one that exists “on the cusp” of intellectual awareness, according to our Planeswalker’s Guide—anywhere besides the rank wilds of Zendikar’s Bala Ged subcontinent?

I’d say it’s unlikely. Not only would these ancient reptilian beings have had to survive Emrakul PMSing all over the plane, but they would have to overcome years of apparent stagnancy in evolutionary development and culture. I mean, they still spawn in tunnels! Who does that? It’s like if humans still used Motel 6s . . . oh, wait . . .

Anyway, despite having some great art, surrakar are not poised for a comeback in future sets. There are only four of them that appear in Zendikar. This would indicate a small existing population. Why is the population small? Humans kill them, yes, but they have the entirety of the Guum Wilds in which to breed and further their race. Surrakar seem to be dangerous enough to be high on the food chain, which means they shouldn’t have too many external threats to their existence—unless the threats are environmental, but no such (besides the recent advent of Eldrazi, of course) are mentioned in the arcana.

Check out my big blue hand, baby. Let’s get it on.

I want to suggest that the surrakar suffer from widespread sexual dysfunction, as a race. First, there’s the aggression level; it’s a chicken/egg situation—their trademark rancor could be a function of frustrated libido—but nevertheless, it’s likely a deterrent to intimacy. Second, there’s a deep-seated contradiction in their other trademark behavior—hoarding—as evidenced in the flavor text of Shoreline Salvager and Surrakar Banisher.

They search for treasures that wash up from the depths…could lead you to treasure, or in circles.

Surrakar grab things they don’t want.

This contradiction is poignant: There’s an endless, structured search for things that is deeply ingrained in the surrakar psyche, yet this search brings no satisfaction. Such an ineffectual lost soul does not a good life partner make!

Also, at least in the case of the Banisher, following the urge to touch/grab/feel things actually results in them going away. While this is convenient in the case of the enemy, what about in the case of a lover? What if Banisher cannot control his powers at the height of excitement, or they activate outside of his control when skin touches skin, similar to this much-beloved heroine?

Something isn’t working for the surrakars, and it’s too bad, but it seems to be inherent to their race and detrimental for their future. In fact, check out the concept art below. This surrakar not only looks tired, but annoyed as hell. I’d guess it’s actually a female. Why? Her expression is one of paramount dissatisfaction.

No, really, I have a headache.

The hands in all the art of the surrakar are extremely well-done. And their hands say a lot in their reptilian hula-dance. The Salvager’s fingers are slightly curled—relaxed, at first glance, but on closer inspection, tentative, unsure. The Marauder comes in a for a big death-strike, but his palm is curiously open and receptive, more like a catcher’s mitt than a deadly claw. There is a vulnerability and a seeker’s heart that lies under the tough hide of a surrakar.

Just look at poor Surrakar Spellblade, desperately clutching the weapons that give him his identity. Who should he remind us of? This guy:

Had no luck perpetuating his species, either.

As I have loved Godzilla, so, too, do I love the scarce surrakar. May we see them resurface in another time: resilient, virile, and with great handfuls of happiness.

You’re really cute when you’re angry. Second chance?