Once More Unto the Breach

[1 1393]

 

 

The void was a peculiar place. There was no mass yet it was all, a place that is moreso of the mind than anything physical. Viewing it was beyond basic comprehension of any mind, even trying to imagine it was a truly mind numbing experience. Yet there were those few that have been tainted and scarred by the void, removing the creator’s mark upon them. The few that were left in a cursed existence in a state between all death and life, with no escape from it.

The essence of the once Voidshifter was scattered about, the blemished platinum aura of the Archon strained about the realm. He was trapped after that failure of an experiment, the transference of forms resulting in nothingness. Those that knew the Archon may have occasionally noticed a few small silver wisps strewn about the realm, similar to an arcanist’s evocation.  As time went on this slowly progressed in occurrence, magi of familiarity to the being continuously noticing this presence. If these wisps were ever touched they’d simply split apart into smaller and smaller wisps, dispersing into nothingness.

Still, the being was left in the void, even if his mana may be perpetually leaking into the overworld. Eventually another event peered into the overworld, occasionally those that knew the arcanist to a greater extent would hear his voice within their mind.

 

 

a̵͓̬̩͖͎̮̩̻̰̦̝̝̣͓̝̗͉̕͘͜c̡̡͍̻͇̩̝̳̤̻͠͠ͅh҉͟҉̬̲̥͔̺̰̫͍͔̼̕

ơ̡͓̲̻͚̘̖͍̻̳̠͙͕̼̳̮͡͝ͅͅͅr̕҉̧͞͏͕̳̯̟͕̥̪̭̥̳ͅȩ͙̻̞̺̻͈̖̫̞̱͙̙̲̤̹̺̳͈́ͅ ̷̷̡̡̣̘̣̦̯ͅu̷̡͚̺̝̠̹̺̳̕̕͢ń̺̺̮̖̥͖̥̮͎͇͈̲̠̰͢t̸̰̟̞͕̬̱̜͘͞͝

 

 

 

Ǫ̵̵͟͏̥̟̲̭͍̟͍̥̜̗ṋ̷̻̗̣̗͎͘͢͜͞c̷͓̯̬̖̲̩̻̕͢͢è̴̞̹̼̜̣͙̟͓̕͞ ҉̖̗̰̭̥́͘͠ͅm̦͔̮͈͓͍̳̞̠̱̰͟͝

 

 

o̧̧̤̫̥̰̖̣̖̲͍̦͙͍̫͝͠ ̥̩͔̖̺̘̖͈͉͓̯̳̀͝t̢҉̰̟̹̹̥͇̩̘̹̟̩̮̜͇̬̹̤̺ḩ̧͈̝̼͚͍̠̝͈͍̟̞͔͍͢͢e҉̷̻͈̱͚͙̙͎̰̦͙͎̥͘ͅ ̸͠͏͍̜̭̖̹̼͍͈̩̗b̛̬̯̼̻͕̬̟̱̖̼͇̺͕̣̥̺̰͘͝͞͡r̸̡̢̥͈͍̰̙̦̬̟̖̭̪̦̱̀ͅe͢͢҉̛̬̝͔͔̜͖̲

 

 

 

 

The voidal energy morphed and swirled within the singular point in existence, land about illuminating with the arcanic light. Wisps swarming the swirl, conjoining and forming into a blob of the ethereal energy. Thorough and through the blob would split apart and rejoin, each moment a more detailed piece of the creature coming into existence. More wisps would come into existence, becoming one with the blob as the process repeated. Eventually it would end in process, the ethereal being of a silver hue falling onto the swamped, wet grounds.

Ơ̴͓̰̱̹̼̬͟n̢̜͈͇̗̘̹̮̺̟̠͞͝c̶̡̦̝̞̯͈͞ę̴̨̱̼͚̲̖̜̰̲͙̮̖ ̷̨͕͍̜͓ṃ̤̪̟̼̭͇̪͍̝̼̺̼̀ơ͜͜҉͈̙̺͇̲͔̙͖̯̠͈͉ͅr҉̴̨̧͙͇̜̩̯̮͕̗̩̲͎̜͖̞̫̟e̴͖̬͕̟͓̰̰̗͖͓̲͇̬̙̲̼̰͟ͅ ͖͚̗͇͔̟͇̞̩͕͓̯͘u̶̗̤̳̬̪̦̻͙̗̯͟͠͡͝ͅǹ̟͔͉͈͟͠ͅṭ̴̶̷̶̬̖͉̗̻̘̳͖͍̩̘͓͎͇͙̰̩ó̢̙̞͉̺̹̮̪̭͘͟ͅ ̵̵̡̮͈̤̯̪̞̟̗̭͙̱͓͓̣͈̫̀͡t̩͈͉̘͚̳̲͕͎́͜͡h̵͖̻͕̳̹e̷̴͠҉̺̖̪̥̭͎̰͓͔̣̣͕̹̝̦̭̻̻̪ ͞҉̥̝̬̗̠̠̠̲̠̭̪͞͡b̸̨͇̰̭̼̭̀͞r̨͇͙̯̬̘͇͚̕͡e̡͎̫̮͖̮͉̘̳̬̬͉͇̙͙̩͘͠ͅà̴҉̯̱̰͖̺̫̗͚͍̠̣͚̘̝̰̣̕c̸̸̯͍̙͓̬̟̝̲̬̪̬̦͕̀͠ͅh̙͉͈̙͚̪̼̜̰̹͢ͅ

 

 

 

I know shitty ass writing but I just wanted to get something done. **** my life and **** the addiction that is LOTC.

[GDPR 014 48]

Xaldrus screeches incoherently.