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"They keep arguing and arguing, don't they?" Haus asks towards that familiar Yisar, holding up the paper so the creature can 'read' it. "If they could only decide if they wanted peace, or bloodshed. This back and forth - the common man only suffers more for it, da?" The creature stares blankly at him, before taking a bite out of the paper.

"Do you think they write these with irony in mind?" The Blonde Watcher inquires towards his Yisar, wrapped in furs as he traverses some frozen lands. The publication is stowed in his bag as he continues on rambling towards the poor creature. "Really - I know I couldn't make this up if I tried. You think it'll be a problem?" The creature, but only a humble Yisar, offers nothing but the equivalent of a ambivalent shrug towards Haus. He sighs, watching his breath condense and near-freeze on the chilled wind as he treks onwards.

Haus considers operation's name, and the darkened skies that hang over Hohkmat. He wonders, as his gaze wanders to the southeast to where the sun rises from the distant coast. "Coincidences are often not", He dares ponder behind that cosmic gaze, "But how?"

The Lord-Magister of Paradox, for once in his ill-fortuned life, ponders if his silent pleas for a more shady day to grant those star-drowned eyes of his a rest have been heard. As he beckons his Yisar to a stop, a interlude before he continues his ever-failing search, he can only stare upward, in awe and concern. "Ask no one to save you-" Haus bids to the creature, in a grief-laden voice "They wont; Save yourselves." The Yisar pays him no mind. Onwards he rides, to another corner of the world - his search is not complete, and so he cannot return.

"Haus, may you find rest in the void, that which you bury yourself in. You were a kind enough man, but a foolish one in the end. " "How...grand of him to say, after - years, has it been?" Haus asks towards the familiar Yisar he rides atop of. The creature regards him for a moment - some equivalent of an apathic shrug that watcher might give himself - before it returns to its simple task of walking. More words follow, as he skims over the brief letter in his hand. He's far from canonist land, in search of something else. He doesn't know what fate occurred to his once-nephew, so distanced from the world as haus is. In the days that follow, dreams plague his sleep. An oddity.

Haus reads over the missive with a raised brow from atop his Yisar, before quill is put to paper and he writes. He feels oddly qualified for one of the jobs.

thud. Thud Lord-Magister. Watcher of the Veil. Truth-Seeker. Thud. thud. Witness to unspoken truths - of unseen, wonderful cosmic re-birth and decay. Thud. Thunk. Haus ambles along a quiet road, well away from settlement or village. The Yisar he rides atop of would draw as much attention as he usually does - it's scales a devoid black, speckled with tiny flecks of intense star-bright white. The pair of horns on it's head and scattered scales along it's grand, lizard-like body float of it's body, tethered by some unseen force. Thunk. Thud. It does nothing to quell the noise that clatters against his ears from inside his very skull. Like a Wheel rolling along besides him, and not at all - he knows when he looks, he will still be alone. It doesn't stop him from doing it, anyway. It still leaves him bitter, and stewing in his own Fury. His mind wanders, a plea from his psyche to quell what will not stop lurking in his mind. He thinks of a Princess he knew - one who wore pink, and smiled wide, in spite of everything that had happened. He remembers re-meeting her not so long ago, of a happy reunion - of sharing highs and lows, failures and Truth. He recalls hearing of her becoming injured, shortly after, in a way he knows no matter how hard he tries or searches - cannot be mended. That it has been equally as long since he's spoken with her, how tormented she was to simply exist when he last saw Briar. For a moment, he hopes - he ought write a letter, see if he can stop by and have a chat about, anything really. Cruelly, he finds it is silent in his head, leaving him with his own proposition. Believe and truth and delusion woven so tightly together, he considers it would be easier to lie for a moment - that he could find a way to give her some hope, too. Remind a kindred soul that they do not, can not, succumb to the Weight of the World - they burn against it, unrelenting and spiteful. The Yisar comes to a stop - a fork in the road. He is withdrawn from his thoughts as he guides it down the path. He doesn't dare return to it - wonder what he could do, might do, should do. Thunk. Thud. That noise returns to echo around his skull a bit louder - mocking him in his own isolation, almost. Word does reach him, eventually, of a Adunian with white hair tending to the dead of a far-flung battle. He considers offering a prayer for the unknown her - a worthless gesture from someone like him, but, as he thinks - not as if the dead are praying for her. That dreadful hope returns to bounce through his mind. If not him, who will, anyway?

Haus spits out his tea as those star-drowned eyes of his scan over the publication. His gaze turns to the Yisar he rides atop of, in search of other problems plaguing the lands. " 'You think they grasp the wastefulness of such a naivety, or have simply turned to the nearest poet?" He inquires towards the abstract creature. It merely blinks back at him, and he shrugs - the paper stowed safely in a bag as he rides onward.

Purpose Over time across the Voidal Magics, inconsistencies have popped up in the form of redlines that make little sense, contradict their own lore, or otherwise are wrong (looking at you, 5 emote spell that takes 4 emotes). This round is aimed specifically at standardizing emote counts, as well as fixing out these inconsistencies. Nothing new is being added to any magic, this is simply a go-through of the magics to make reading them more straightforward and sensible. Gust Old: New: Redirect Old: New: Air Sweep Old: New: Air Shield Old: New: Air Blast Old: New: Launch Old: New: Sound Blast Old: Windstorm Old: New: Compression Old: New: Whirlwind Old: New: Credits PrimnyaQuorum - Writer lord_of_losers - Feedback

Purpose Over time across the Voidal Magics, inconsistencies have popped up in the form of redlines that make little sense, contradict their own lore, or otherwise are wrong (looking at you, 5 emote spell that takes 4 emotes). This round is aimed specifically at standardizing emote counts, as well as fixing out these inconsistencies. Nothing new is being added to any magic, this is simply a go-through of the magics to make reading them more straightforward and sensible. Water Blast Old: New: Water Shield Old: New: Water Whip Old: New: Ice Projectile Old: New: Water Wave Old: New: Ice Spikes Old: New: Ice Shield Old: New: Ice Dome Old: New: Credits PrimnyaQuorum - Writer lord_of_losers - Feedback

Purpose Over time across the Voidal Magics, inconsistencies have popped up in the form of redlines that make little sense, contradict their own lore, or otherwise are wrong (looking at you, 5 emote spell that takes 4 emotes). This round is aimed specifically at standardizing emote counts, as well as fixing out these inconsistencies. Nothing new is being added to any magic, this is simply a go-through of the magics to make reading them more straightforward and sensible. Cauterize Old: New: Flame Projectile Old: New: Flame Trail Old: New: Flame Blast Old: New: Smokescreen Old: New: Flamethrower Old: New: Credits PrimnyaQuorum - Writer lord_of_losers - Feedback

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fds_2qH9sBQ Under a moonless night, parchment and papers are delivered to every home and district within the Free City of Hohkmat. They all bear the same seal - that of the outline of a sitting fox - and when opened, smell softly of embers and wood smoke. Two copies, more carefully embroidered, are sent to the Seat of the Grand Magister of Hohkmat and the Queen of The Petra. Fair Greetings, It has been decreed by Her Majesty, Catherine I that: The Bridge to Veletz Must Go! Her Majesty has passed this most urgent matter to the Grand Magister, who in turn has passed it to Me. As such, under my guidance and supervision shall planning be conducted, and this bridge be reduced to naught but rubble and brick, cinders and ash. In this, however, I find it more than just my responsibility to see this bridge destroyed, but that all those who call Hohkmat their home are extended a hand to join me in this endeavor - it is, after all, a perfect time for the magi within our walls to combine their magical prowess into a truly grand display of sanctioned arcanic destruction. Thus, I hereby declare: All those within our walls who wish to partake are invited to join me. To those who merely wish to lend their strength in magic, you need not but be present on the day of the dismantling, and the meeting that shall preface it two months before. To those, however, who seek to apply their minds to this task - I invite you to stand in my court, and present your ideas to me. I shall pick the brightest among that which is presented to lead this process with me. There are no bad ideas - only arrogant minds, and silent tongues. Both are unwelcome in my court. Lord-Magister of Paradox

The Lord-Magister of Paradox, Haus, struggles to make sense of the closing statement as he recovers from the cognitive dissonance of seeing a artist's rendition of Lanre, who does not look like a old elf as he had imagined. He resolves to inquiring further on it another time, jolting down the concept hastily on parchment before he returns to his never-ending work.

A Watcher wakes from a plagued sleep, rubbing at his forehead as dim, stellar light recedes from his gaze. He ponders the arcane shifts in the Veil that infests his slumbering senses, and the truths they reveal to him, as Haus mutters... "What is a recording?"

A Watcher awakens in a cold sweat. Hands hold at his blonde head, as cosmically tainted light recedes from the endless depths of his eyes. He looks around, his own breathes ragged and rapid as he thinks: 'Something is missing.' He makes his way to his desk, grabbing parchment and ink - and he writes. Any hopes of rest are well and truly dashed. He wonders who will listen, this time.

"FINALLY, A worthy use of my mana!" The Hausmage gleefully observes. He frantically begins to pack a chef's bag. "Our bake-off shall be the subject of culinary legend!

"So we lie now, o'Pharaoh?" The Watcher hums, perched atop a tree in a densely wooded forest. He holds a copy of the missive in hand. Alone as can be, and yet he speaks aloud. "Meaningless words, enunciated from voices far too weak. Crying to your Gods, because your own tongue is too weak to afflict change." A quill and paper is produced, and Haus scribbles away. His own words, meaningless and daft. As he writes, he finds he cant sift apart between his own emotions, and the chattering in his skull.

An aforementioned Watcher finds himself, if nothing else, bemused by the text he reads. Paradoxical contradictions catch that star-speckled gaze of his as he acquires a few extra copies of the publication, and begins the long and arduous process of writing notes. After a long moment, however, he changes him mind and steps off into his kitchen. Sometime after the chaos has subsided, a basket of homemade baked goods is left on the porch of the house of Cresence and Theveus. A simple note, bearing the image of the outline of a fox, is left atop the basket of treats for the poor Okarir'sil. @hemomancy @MailC3p

Shifting Spells under Translocation (Notably Brisk Step and Minor TP) allow the user to dodge incoming attacks and projectiles reactively if its on the cast emote. Air Evo has redirect, which is mechanically the same as Amped Reflexes (knocking away incoming projectiles at arrow speed or slower) with no real range limit besides how far the mage can see. I think Amped Reflexes is fine since the mage would need to already be in position to knock away a incoming projectile, or spend further emotes casting Lightning Step or just running to maneuver into place.

Love the addition of more non-combative flavor - definitely agree that void magics should provide more to a character then just CRP things. +1

"A...truthful summary. How strange, to not have to fight those I shield." That Watcher, Haus, muses at the edge of the lands of Amathine. He holds a copy of the missive in a hand, cosmic gaze sweeping across the text. "But they have heard me. Seen and listen. Let it not be too late."

Source [!] In the silence of night, across lands swept by blizzards and tides, long rolls of fine parchment are pinned to boards across the lands of Aevos - All who live and wander through these lands could easily find a copy, and read what the finely-written words say, though there is evidently a intended audience: To the fellow Watchers, As many of you have, indubitably, seen through your own eyes the vile thing that stalks our world, I imagine a variety of thoughts plague you. Questions remain unanswered, and each wasted month, we sit in isolation in our corners of the world - staring into the Veil as if it will give us answers. A fault of my own making, that I so hastily dismissed all sight except my own. In the spreading of warning across the lands, I ignored my own plea - unity. No sole being, no matter the strength of their will or flawlessness of their soul, holds a candle to what lurks Beyond the Veil. Alone, separated, we are but scraps for the picking. No longer shall I accept this status quo, and I call out to my fellow Watchers - Neither should you. We all bear the burden of this affliction, one of our own choosing. It is well past the time to put aside what separates us, and stand together. We all have something to contribute, be it knowledge to put towards banishing this Horror from the Material, or the strength to stand besides one another and help our friends, our families, and our people for the betterment of all. To those Watchers who heed this call, you will find me in the Mage-State of Hohkmat, in the District of Paradox. There is much to be shared and said, and much work to be done. To those descendants, have faith. While this Horror attempts to divide us with false truths and vicious words, while it attempts to drown us under water and snow and ice - it is all a veil of lies, drawn over your eyes to turn you unto each other. We, who see through such treachery like a clear night sky, offer our sight to you. Know you are not alone in this struggle. Steel your resolve.

"And so the sheep prattle on and on" Haus mutters wholly to himself, pausing on the cusp of some barren lands, ashen soil held in the other hand as he scans through the missive during a brief rest. There is no one around, and yet he continues "Like being led to a slaughterhouse. Delusions upon Delusions. Sickening, to see what has become of it all." And thus back into his bag goes the missive, and he returns to his travels.

In some distant, costal lands - hidden away in a arcanic forge, Haus eyes a small band of aurum and gemstones with a devious, planning grin. He has a costume to make, and a competition to win. He resolves himself - no disappointments, no shying away.

PrimnyaQuorum Haus #78996