[EVENT] [Vision] A Colored Omen.

[Johann 2498]

 

This a vision only available to those deeply attuned to the Void. It is not a prophecy in any conventional means and is only accessible to those at least [T5] in one voidal magic. 

 

 

[!] In one feverish night a coruscating ripple of magic surges across Aevos and through the arcane tapestries of the world. The next happenstance you glimpse a stray reflection you behold a hue-shifted and inverted echo of yourself before being plunged into a drunken stupor. The world winks out of existence, and an unseen hand lays a dream upon your sleeping mind, an augury, a portent:

 

---

 

Darkness swallows you whole as a moment’s reprieve is consumed by screaming scintillation. A kaleidoscope of hues surround you like a broken display of mirrors. Amidst that vertigo the very ground beneath you becomes the beating heart of a beast, each pulse was without rhyme or reason and mirrored hues split into finer and finer fractals. 

 

“G’lhk’nth V’thrhl Whl’or”

 

Words in its meekest definition scrape into being, brimming with intent irrational. The pattern-hungry brain gnaws at the unsolvable puzzle and in this diversion reality splinters into a maelstrom of colors. You plummet eternally above the twinkling skies of a voidscarred battlefield, embraced by the drowsy expanse of the Dreamer’s Marsh. 

 

A premonition unfolds: A crystalline heart lying at its center fractures into a thousand shades as light-and-shadow twists into the form of spindling tendrils. In its sickly metamorphosis the beast daubed vibrant designs, the skies now a chromatic canvas and the earth its dripping soulless residue - an opus without opulence, brushstrokes without spirit.

 

A pure mote of magelight descends from between the stars, lowered by puppet-strings. Radiant light envelopes the entire expanse, consuming the burgeoning aberration, twisted world, and You. You fathom your constitution unraveled like an abjured spell, an incandescent agony, a cosmic dissonance, and the bewildering cascade of sensations returns you to lucidity.

 

---

 

[!] As you are pulled back to consciousness, threads of energy weave itself into a letter upon your hands, its parchment silvery-soft arcana transfigured into form. The script resonates with a faint glow and is perfectly cursive, as if written in a flowing hand. The name of the sender seems to apparent to you as if injected into memory - “The Veilscribe” - and its words stir a quiet buzzing urgency in the back of your mind when read:

 

“Seek the prismatic enclave of the Dreamer’s Marsh. 

 

A Weave of hues festers. 

 

Mages of the World, make haste.”
 

 

Spoiler

OOC note: 

 

Howdy! Jo here, this is going to be a mini Voidal eventline that I plan on running for two months or so for a voidscarred zone in the Dreamer’s Marsh. This is hard PK event that is combat-heavy and high-stakes so if that’s something you fancy, do join the eventline discord to stay updated! Outside of mainline events the zone itself will be open to interactions for small groups so if you're passing by and see me online something miight happen in the area B)

 

Event Discord

 

[xo31 3979]

An arcanist's eyes blitzed open, and he let out a breath. The Void was back, he felt, and he wandered.

[Morigung-oog 5697]

An ancient fighter of the Void awoke on the cold stone of her office floor. Her brows furrowed in concern. With a groan, she hauled herself back onto her desk to pen a warning to her sillumir.

[Mestvin 947]

 

The chamber of the Black Sepulchre pulsed with an unnatural stillness as shadows bent toward the figure like hounds to a master. 

The Black Scribe bellows:
 

"Very well... May the Abyss be witness to this."

[nepir 472]

Awakened in a cold sweat he grabs a hold of the workbench lifting himself as he lets out a sigh. two familiar black orbs looking at him as the landshark whined softly. "Its all right jeefs, it seems our friend was right."

[SimonItorp 124]

The Daystar awakes, dazed and with ragged breaths - his star-filled eyes flicker and spark of latent mana that had instinctually reacted to the dream that unfolded just mere seconds ago. The swirling tempests of cosmic weave and constellations whirl violently within his head. Both his hands raise to then be rested against the temples of his skull. . .

 

"The stars quake... Existence itself weeps... What..?"

[PrimnyaQuorum 4003]

The Pale-Elf, Librarian and Watcher, stirs from its watch over the Swamp. It examines that note in hand, whilst a hand comforts his own forehead from the usuall strain of unplanned visions.

 

It is not long before he ventures away - soon to return, with allies enough. His legacy begets he must finish what has begun.

[Luxury 1082]

The Headmistress of Redquill pores over yellowed, weathered scrolls under dimmed magelight; Old arcane theses from a bygone era, courtesy of the National Geographic Society. The window is set open to let in the Chamberian night breeze. This was her piece of calm, seldom savored.

 

Recently set aside, the emptied whiskey glass - once home to a warm Oaky reserve with a splash of citrus - reflects the glint of Voidal lights strung about the Ashwood's office. A subtle, easily ignored phenomenon in her peripheral matrix. . . usually that is.

 

The magelights, enchanted for a consistent and unobtrusive glow, held firm. Yet the reflected lumens within the glass began to swell gently at first, then with eerie intent. . . as though reaching back toward her.

 

Mildly annoyed, she shifted her gaze at last toward the errant flicker. A hand moved with practiced care to lift the glass - tilting it, watching.

 

Her own reflection stared back… wrong. Then the world fell away.

[Frisket 4538]

[!] Upon awaking from the distant visionary dream, Vivien looked upon the night stand and saw this weaved letter. From just touching it, she knew it was something of voidal nature. 
 

she brushed her hair back as she read it. Only to ponder. Will it be worth it?

 

She however isn’t going to turn down the chance to discover what this has entailed.