BakedPotato

ok

I see no issues with this amendment

you caught me There are far more klone CAs than machine spirit CAs despite kloning having a far harsher pk clause, and that's for a reason. Klones and much of tawkin's content is often more sought after. I like its harsh narrative consequences in return. Any suffering from the pk clause is self-inflicted, I don't remembering suffering when I have none or just 1 klone when I started, which also happens every map transition to every klone new and old. I like the pk clause, if you don't like it don't accept it. This takes most of the risk away.

hi someone with a klone CA, I've roleplayed while I have pygmies growing, even dared step outside my nation's walls. I couldn't care less if this gets passed or not it will hardly effect my roleplay, because no one is forcing me to shelf my persona. If dying is so scary and happens so often maybe stick to monk revival

The magics ologs can learn are limited, voidal isnt compatible with them, theyre also locked from magics they do have while raging. As for boomsteel I feel this redline would be applied to rage

I simply dont think its as op as you think it. Anyone can powergame even without CAs, MAs, and items. Subraces exist so everyones not forced into playing the same character, thats why there are 4 different human subraces, a billion different elves, multiple different dwarves. Orcs deserve some variety too, olog is an orc subrace which i feel is being mitigated a lot. Its the same reason people choose to play goblins when they could play an uruk, because they want to. People who play uruks now play them because they want to. People who play ologs play them because they want to. If you play an olog for the mentality nothing stops you from keeping your olog dumb, this just opens doors but still less doors than uruks. If you want to play an olog to be taller than an uruk then ok, a subrace’s purpose is to provide variety. This aims to help balance olog’s currently op strength. Helmet offered good feedback, a lot of your earlier complaints were solved by reading, if you have actual criticism beyond they’re op then please add but I’ve already engaged with you beyond what I should.

getting a lot of calm and level-headed energy from the ! usage ologs still have a different mentality, and this pushes back on the flanderization that has happened with ologs. No one is stopping anyone from playing a braindead persona, ive enjoyed playing a dumb character before, but orcs are already a small niche and shouldnt have to suffer because you feel ologs should be roleplayed a type of way, of the few people who want to play orcs there will be even fewer wanting to play ologs and they should have some freedom in their roleplay if they so please. Being an olog is still limiting and can be just as dynamic. If you cant play an olog if this write passes and have fun with it, dont play one

Ologs weren’t always what they were now, and shouldn’t be unthinking rocks. Ologs are orcs+ they are the same race not some distinct monster. Anything can be abused, olog strength now can be abused, this write serves to make ologs more enjoyable. I think people need to reread everything pana wrote, ologs in this write are more different to uruks than goblins are to uruks. All three are the same race

has no affect when wearing additional armor. that durability is worse than knight in armor, mundane knight meta is still on top. Olog strength as it is is already tanked and shrugged off, I have no doubt it will be the same after this write. Strength buff might be strong in theorycraft, less so in a real crp

It gives a list of what they can learn starting with shamanism

When raging they cant cast any magic btw

Most CAs can be played by just anyone as a lot of them are created by someone else with the exception of endgame CAs, i dont rly think ologs are as op as u believe in this write, if anything id call it a nerf

Couldn't Stay Away As the orc began her rite, she did so standing on shaking legs. Each rune painted in her blood was done with a trembling finger. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She did her best to calm herself as she stood within the center of her salt. Her sight had grown with her spirit’s guidance, but it was not whole. Yet her goddess compelled her to seek what was out there. The risks would be great with her reduced vision, but she deluded herself into thinking the rewards outweighed them. The salt erupted, venting a scarlet-hued vapor as the orc chanted in an ancient tongue. It circled and rose higher, inky black webs stretching out and swirling within. A metallic scent filled the room she occupied, and the rhythmic sound of a beating heart rushed into the shaman’s ears. The crimson smoke reached the ceiling, and the uruk was off, shifting between realities. Pastel Clouds | Daneumhi Gazhnahk stumbled as she shunted into the new realm with a small burst of blood dyed smoke. She scanned her limited surroundings, taking in the pale pastel yellow grass all around her. The witch pulled off the robes she wore, exposing the armor beneath. The uruk took a moment to glide her hand through the grass, letting it scratch at her skin. Beyond its color, it felt rather normal. The ground felt the same to her as she dug her fingers into the pale, burnt orange pastel dirt, rubbing it between her fingers and feeling the soil crumble before gathering up her belongings. The shaman wandered aimlessly for a long while, letting the will of Gazigash guide her. She had taken some notes in her journal as she traveled. A few hills dotted the land, tall, too tall for her to want to try to climb. How steep they were only lessened her desire. The hills seemed stretched, as if a large hand pinched the land and pulled as high as it could before the ground snapped. The realm was not a continuous plane, which she learned as she neared one of the island’s edges. It linked itself to another floating island via chains of pastel peach. Gazhnahk peered down the gap to see what lay below, though all she could spot was a blanket of misty silver, which did not say much, given her short sight. Hopping to the other island, the orc continued her journey, hoping the realm would offer her something more interesting than tall hills. It would be hours before anything of note came along, but after a long time of walking, a house came into view. It was structured in the classic medieval style Gazhnahk was used to, but only materials of various pastel colors were used in its making. A woman was on the lawn, humming as she was bent over a large, pastel brown bucket. It was filled with a foamy, light, pastel blue substance, and she was scrubbing what appeared to be a shirt against a washboard. The woman was of unnatural hues as well, her skin a shade of lime pastel green and her long hair a pastel lavender. The stranger regarded the orc with a look as she neared. “Who are you?” “A traveller.” She rasped in reply, gazing at her with my false eyes. “A friendly one.” Gazhnahk was eyed with suspicion as she stopped her chore and backed away slowly. “And what is it you want?” “Nothing in particular, simply exploring. That’s all.” Gazhnahk raised her hands ‌in the air, trying to express her desire for peace. “My husband will be back soon. You can wait there until he returns if you’d like.” The woman continued her slow and careful backpedal, ascending the porch behind her while keeping an eye on the orc. The uruk nodded, “Alright.. I’ll wait..” Her hands fell, coming to rest at her side once more. As time passed, Gazhnahk grew uncertain how long it was she had stood there, but she knew it had to be some time. Suddenly, in the distance, beyond her view, she heard the cranking of machinery. Instinct compelled her to reach for her spear, but she stayed her hand, not wishing to be the first to ruin what could be a friendship. The orc became more vigilant as she kept herself prepared for the worst. The whirring of gears ceased, and footsteps crunching against grass soon followed. A man appeared in Gazhnahk’s sight, and her attention quickly snapped to him. Her false eyes did not move as she looked the man up and down. He appeared to be an engineer of sorts, with an apron, gloves, and goggles on his forehead. The orc assumed him to be the husband without a second thought. The door creaked open as the wife appeared again, standing at a distance on the porch. “Whose this honey?” The husband questioned as he stared at the orc, peeling his gloves off in the process. “She said she’s a traveller.” Gazhnahk remained quiet as the two went back and forth. “Did she say anything else?” The husband asked with a glance at his wife, the woman simply shaking her head in response. He turned his attention back on Gazhnahk, “So who are you? What are you doing here?” “My name is Gazhnahk’Akaal. I wander between different planes.” She spoke truthfully. “Wander between planes?” The man questioned, clearly confused. “I have the gift to travel to other dimensions, each one vast and unique. I don’t mean to bring any harm, just to learn about the realms I visit.” The husband nodded slowly, taking his time to process what he had been told. “Quite remarkable if true… How’s this: you say you wanna learn about this place, and I can show you, but in turn, you have to help out with chores. A little give and take seems fair to me. Gazhnahk would nod to this, “Nothing in this life ahm free, ah fair offer.” “Come inside, I was just finishing dinner.” The wife spoke “But you can leave the weapons outside.” And so she did, the orc setting her spear aside as she walked up the creaking wooden steps. They ate and talked, Gazhnahk getting an opportunity to learn more about this realm, grilled‌ with countless questions. The food was odd, though, a bowl filled with what seemed like a pastel colored broth. By no means was it bad, but it tasted like nothing she had ever had before, and she wasn’t sure she loved it. She was given a spare room with simple furniture, having only a bed with a pastel rose gold wool blanket and a pastel ultramarine pillow, along with a desk. A candle with wax the color of pastel burgundy burned, the flickering flame offering the orc a dim light to log what she had seen today in her journal. Night would soon bleed into morning, so Gazhnahk finally decided to try to get some sleep. The bed was lumpy and hard, and the blanket scratched at her skin as she tossed and turned, but the orc had managed to find rest in even worse places. Hours passed, and beads of cold sweat began to swell on her green forehead. Her face scrunched as she tossed and turned, as her spirit invaded her dreams. When she woke, it was early dawn, and roosters outside greeted the sun. Her sweat had soaked the mattress beneath her, her shirt equally drenched. Though as she stirred out of bed, it was not with panic but with resolve. Tap, tap, tap. A knock came at her door. “You awake in there? We like to get started bright and early on our day.” The husband’s voice came through the door. “Yes, one moment; let me get ready.” She rasped in reply, though she did make no effort to move from where she sat on her bed and get started. “Meet me outside when you're ready.” The orc’s days consisted of waking up early to help with chores until it grew late. She didn’t complain, though; each day she learned more of the land and the people. Whenever she finished her chores, the Akaal took time to wander around, though she made sure to always return before it became night, and she got lost. Assisting the wife consumed most of her time; she didn't get to accompany the husband to his work until later that week. She learned what the creaking sound was as he showed her the strangest animatii contraption she had ever seen. If it was even animatii at all, it looked nothing like the animatii machines of those made by the people of Azuras. A large box of pastel colors, even the glass was tinted a shade of pastel. It seemed to sit on tracks like a mine cart, but more advanced, and the track went vertically up the steep mountain. Posts ran up the mountain along the side of the track, supporting the cords that ran up and down, so that the box seemed to hang as it sat on the track. The man stepped inside, and so Gazhnahk followed. He cranked a lever from within, and massive wooden gears began to churn; the box making a clicking sound as it slowly ascended the track. Gazhnahk’s expression said all that was needed. “Impressive, isn’t it?” “I’ve never seen anything like it before..” As they neared the top, the box passed through a pastel cloud, obscuring what lay in the distance, though it did not matter; she could not see that far anyway. The box came to a stop, and the pair stepped out onto a platform, a balcony built into the side of the steep slope. Another strange contraption sat at the summit’s peak, a machine that whirled and made all sorts of noises. The man noticed Gazhnahk’s clear interest in the device. “This is how we get our food.” He began, “Clouds pass through here, and this machine takes in their vapor, condensing it into food.” The Akaal had already pulled her journal free, sketching the machines. “So all you eat is clouds?” “You make that sound strange.” “It would be quite odd where I come from.” “Well, what do your people eat then?” “All sorts of things, though clouds are not one of them.” “I’d consider that strange where I come from.” “Fair point.” A few weeks passed, and each day brought fewer notes in journal. This realm was interesting, though not interesting enough to entertain her chaotic mind. She had learned what she could for now. And there was no point in staying any longer. Perhaps she will visit again, see what else she might find, but now she quietly slipped out from the house in the middle of the night. The lands shifted around her, but the orc did not let it disturb her as she made her journey back home

I think it would be fun to be able to go on adventures as a small group and tbh feel like a bringing a second person should be fine and shouldn’t require the shunter to remain in one spot

It had been a few years in the material realm since Gazhnahk dared to dip her toes in the vast cosmos and swim between realities. Far too long, she thought, though she had to get some affairs in order before she could depart once more. She prepared for another journey, grabbing what she needed before secluding herself in her room. There she prepared the rite, a circle of salt with a ring of blood runes running along its inner edge. An equation of symbols devised without a true aim, electing to discover where it would whisk her off to. With the circles prepared, she stepped within, chanting the phrases that were now second nature to the practicing shunter. In a blinding prismatic light of shifting colors, the orc was gone. She floated aimlessly in a stream of energy she had conjured outside existence. All around her was white light with hues streaking through it, but just beyond that was endless nothing filled with countless planes. After a time, her feet felt solid ground beneath them as she slowly fell, floating into a new, unknown plane. The orc looked down, seeing polished wooden floorboards beneath her. The light that carried her faded, and the rest of the realm came into view. It wasn’t a very large plane she landed in, especially compared to others the shunter has traversed to. It was a single rectangular room with a large, eloquently carved wooden rectangular table positioned in the middle, its short ends running perpendicular to the longer walls of the room. Equally eloquent lounge chairs composed of plush red velvet were placed around the table. Behind one end of the table, along the wall, was a stone brick fireplace, crackling with life and flooding the room with a comforting warmth. The opposite had a long sofa made of similar red velvet. Throw pillows and folded blankets were sitting neatly upon it. The orc spun in circles, taking in new place. It seemed she found herself in some Victorian-style lounge, though she did not know what the Victorian era was. She was on one end of the long room, behind her a grand double door. In front of her, on the opposite end of the room, was a sort of kitchen area. It was fitted with cupboards and a counter, having a sink, stove, oven, and anything else the elderly man needed. The man currently had his back turned to Gazhnahk, doing something in the kitchen the orc couldn’t quite see. He made no sudden movements, nothing that made it seem like he was aware of the intruder. The Akaal thought this a blessing, hoping it was a prime opportunity to slip away unnoticed. She quickly attempted to exit quietly through the doors positioned behind her. The heavy wooden doors groaned and creaked with age as they were pulled apart, and not daring to glance behind her, the orc stepped out and quickly closed them shut behind her. Gazhnahk leaned against the doors, her hands pinned against them behind her. She waited for a moment, listening to the movements within. The orc heard silence when she expected a quick pursuit by the home’s dweller. Her attention began to divert from that to what was outside the room. Nothing, well, nothing but a gray fog devoid of any color. It was thick, blanketing everything in sight with its presence. The Akaal went forth, and the lounge began to fade into the fog behind her after just twenty steps. She continued until it completely vanished and continued still. The silence was unbroken; nothing stirred in the surrounding fog. She kept watchful for movement, for life, for anything really. The gray fog was the only thing she encountered as she kept going, that is, until she came upon a structure. She studied it for a moment. It seemed quite similar to the one she had left just moments ago. Carefully, she cracked the door open to peer inside. The orc was unconvinced by what she had seen, and she quickly slammed the door shut. It was impossible. Not only did it appear the same externally, but internally, even accompanied by the same old man. Had she gotten herself turned around? It was possible with the fog, but she was almost sure she kept herself on a straight path. With no other options, the orc began to trek through the fog once more. It would only take time for her to come across the room again, and it would be the only thing she’d ever manage to find in the dense fog each time she journeyed out from it. And she ventured out many times until finally giving up. She began to grow tired of her aimless wandering and decided to take her chances with the old man inside. The orc stepped into the waiting room. The man was sitting at the table, sipping tea from fine china as he read the paper with one leg folded over the other. “Given up, have you? Spent longer than most trying, though not as long as some. Come sit, I’ll pour you some tea. The crumpets just finished up, nice and warm.” Gazhnahk eyed the man as she sat down on the other end of the table. He moved to get up as she sat down. He fixed her up some crumpets and tea, placing them down before her. He slid the butter dish down the table towards her. After, he retook his seat at the other end of the table and resumed reading in silence. She stared at the food before her for a time, and stared at him, not breaking the silence. Her stomach grumbled, the smell of the fresh crumpets making suppressing her hunger difficult. Finally, the orc gave in, buttering her crumpets before digging in, enjoying her tea along with it. As she ate, Gazhnahk finally decided to speak up. “What is this place?” “Ahhhh.. It can speak. I was beginning to wonder.” “Don’t call me an it.” She growled. “My apologies, miss.. It’s just.. You look quite different from the other travelers who come through here.” “And do you get many? Travelers that is.” She questioned before taking another bite of her crumpet. “Many happen upon my humble abode. This is a lounge of sorts, and I’m its caretaker. This place exists as a rest stop, not bound to any single place.” He pointed to the wall behind him, to a spot where the wallpaper thinned and tore. Gazhnahk rose from her seat and walked over to investigate, peering out from the crack. She had expected the same gray fog that lay on the other side of the doors, but instead she saw a vast emptiness, home to only distant glittering stars dotting the landscape. The shunter had seen the laws of reality defiled many times over; she knew the vast planes did not play the same games she was used to, but even to her, this room was perplexing. “So, what is this place?” “I just answered, a break room.” “Yeah, got that. But why, for what?” “Well then, should have specified that.” “Okay…… you gonna answer?” Silence was the only response he gave, flipping his paper to the next page. “Well then… can you tell me your name?” More silence. The elderly man ignored her questions. He noticed she had finished her tea, though, and when he parted his lips for a brief moment, Gazhnahk held hope her questions would be answered. “More tea?” Gazhnahk’s brows furrowed as her eyes narrowed, glaring at the man. He offered an innocent expression in return, his brows perked up. “Are you serious?” “Deadly.” “You ignored my questions, but offered me tea.” He nodded, “Mhm.” Gazhnahk let out a deep sigh, calming herself. “Sure, more tea.” And so the old man poured her more tea, and Gazhnahk went on to ask her questions. She spent hours trying to probe his mind for answers, but every question was met with the same answer: silence. The only time he ever spoke up was to offer her more tea or crumpets, which she usually accepted. After a while of feeling defeated and like she was talking to a brick wall, the orc went on to study the new space herself. She produced her journal, taking notes and jotting down sketches. Journal Excerpt Who built this place? Or would asking why be a better question? I would definitely like to know how that’s assured. It’s unlike anything else I’ve encountered. Through the cracks, I can see an endless void like the night sky, but through the door is endless fog. The door seems to lead to an entirely different realm, or is it beyond the walls that another plane lies? It’s hard to tell, and the old man who lives here is most unhelpful. He doesn’t seem hostile for the time being, just offering tea and crumpets. I’ve tried to explore the fog, but anytime I wander out in any direction, I get led back to this room. I might stay awhile and try to learn more, but this plane is definitely one to return to. She spent a while pacing around the room and examining every aspect, and even longer trying to explore the fog to no end. After a few hours wasted, she returned to her seat at the table, writing down in her book while sipping tea. “What you got there?” “Oh, so I can’t ask questions, but you can?” He shrugged, “You don’t need to answer.” He looked away, returning to his reading. Gazhnahk grumbled, growing annoyed. He’s messing with her, she thought. But perhaps playing along will provide answers to her own questions. “A journal.” “Oh, so like a diary? You write your day to day, that it?” “No. This I use to take notes.” “Of what?” “Three questions, you’ve asked three questions but still haven’t given any answers.” “Look mate, I said you don’t gotta answer. So either answer or stop complaining.” She grumbled even more, “Notes of realms. I’ve visited other places much the same way I visited here.” “Oh, so you just randomly go around and take notes?” “I like to learn.” “You like to learn? Reading a book too hard for you, hm?” Gazhnahk gritted her teeth, “I’ve read countless books. I’ve existed for a long time, and in my youth, that’s all I did. I spent countless years huddled in expansive libraries, pulling every tome off the shelves to read. Besides, why read a book when you can pen one yourself? Ever since I could remember, I’ve had a need to learn more. I’ve always known knowledge was an addiction of mine, but are all vices bad?” “And if those vices get you killed? How far will you be willing to chase knowledge? Would you follow it even to your death? You upset great forces with your recklessness.” “What do you mean?” The Akaal should have known, but it still annoyed her all the same. Her question was answered like any other, with silence. She stood up and began searching the man’s cabinets, finding a container of salt and taking it. “Not gonna ask? What if I need that salt?” “Thought about it, assumed you would ignore me, though.” “Touché,” he chuckled, his eyes never leaving his paper. With that, Gazhnahk prepared another rite, not one to return home, no, she intended to go further out into the cosmos. Without a goodbye to the old man, the orc left Betwyxt and went off, traversing between realities to a new realm. Her new surroundings were vast, far different from the place she had just left. A plane that stretched endlessly as far as the eye could see, but whether it held more to offer was still unknown. It was a large realm, yes, but all she saw were pillars and archways of stone. Stairs that led up to nowhere, or half-built rooms with one or two walls. It seemed like a maze of half-completed stone masonry. The same questions came to her that she wondered every time she shunted to a new realm. Who and why? The orc began to wander, examining the stone. Ancient runes were carved into their surface. The orc drew the symbols in her book along with other sketches of the plane, continuously taking notes as she walked. She never grew bored as she explored, no matter how boring it truly was. She wasn’t entirely sure why at this point, but with each page filled, the desire to fill the next grew exponentially. The Akaal travelled for a while, finding only more stone structures. The orc didn’t even come across a single blade of grass. She was walking down a stone corridor when she heard movement behind her. Suddenly, the orc was aware she was not alone. Movements became more hurried and rushed as she anxiously tried to distance herself. She was about to cross an archway that led into a path when suddenly the door was blocked off. A large serpent whose head dwarfed the orc slid past, its wet, glowing orange eye staring into Gazhnahk as it moved past. Its body was composed of purple scales broken up by patches of nebula that seemed vast and endless when peering into. There were very few things that could strike fear into every nerve of her being at a mere glance, and a giant serpent was one of them. She spun on her heels, turning around and breaking out into a sprint heading in the opposite direction. Again, she was cut off by the snake. Left, she turned left, sprinting off in a new direction. Her efforts proved fruitless as the serpent turned down the path she was on, crawling towards her in the opposite direction that she was running in. The orc turned around again, but running the way she came proved impossible as the snake had begun coiling around her and had started closing in. She was trapped. She pulled her shield and spear free from her back, turning to face the serpent head-on. The snake raised its head higher in the air to stare down at the small orc it had encased. Its long purple tongue flickered out as it studied her. Gazhahk remained where she stood, staring at the great beast frozen. She willed her body to move, but it disobeyed. It did not listen to her commands when faced with overwhelming fear. “Little bug.” The serpent did not move its jaw to speak, but Gazhnahk heard its voice in her head all the same. It was loud, echoing as if being spoken from a deep cavern. The orc’s legs wobbled, the bone inside feeling like jelly. She fell to her knees, staring up at the creature. Her fate was now in its hands. “You thought yourself something. Thought yourself something grand. To call you an ant would inflate your ego even further, your less than that. You meddle with forces you cannot begin to understand, and annoy beings beyond your comprehension. I could devour you whole. At least you will know you had some value.. In being my snack.” Gazhnahk remained motionless on her knees. She knew she could not fight back. Even if this massive snake was ordinary, it would take more than just her, and she could easily tell it was far from ordinary. She did not want to beg for her life either. She knew the risks involved, and she would not dishonor herself in her final moments. “Hmmm… I was hoping you’d plead for your life.” The bodiless voice carried a tone of disappointment. “No matter… death would be too kind a fate, anyway. No one learns a lesson by dying. If you give me what you value most, I will let you struggle for survival. I can already sense your greatest desire, so don’t try tricking me..” The Akaal stared at the snake, her mind racing. Every word it spoke hung in her mind like a whisper. What she values most? And it already knows? Does she even know what it seeks? “Go on, I’ll give you a moment to ponder it over.” It snickered She took more than a moment, considering every possibility. The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she grew, as she already knew the answer. She just did not want to give it up. What she had valued most her entire life was simple. Her greatest desire was to learn. She enjoyed observing. It was what she spent her entire existence doing. “Ahhh, yes… There it is, the face of recognition. Recognizing that you're out of options. That you’re out of luck. “No…” She croaked weakly. “Yesss” It hissed, “Pluck them out and set them on the ground, do so, and you can live your meaningless existence.” Ordinarily, such a fate would only be a minor inconvenience to the mastered alchemist. She had done it so many times now that she could likely graft new eyes while blind. That wasn’t the issue. She would be stranded in this other plane, and without her eyes finding the link back would be harder. Not only that, it was possible that this snake was not the sole inhibitor. But what choice did she have? Even a wild animal would gnaw its own limb off to save its body. The orc began to undo the gauntlets she wore. “Yesss, that’s it, go on.” The orc set the gloves down and pinched her fingers together before bringing them to her eye, using her other hand to force her eyelids open. She hesitated, struggling to bring herself to commit. She becomes unaware of time passing in that moment. All she senses is her unsteady breathing, the way her fingers shake nervously, the pit of anxiety swelling in her gut. Then she plunged her own fingers into her eye socket, deciding to treat it like a band-aid and do her best to get it over quickly. The agonizing pain she felt almost caused her to pass out, letting out blood-curdling screams as she worked. She wanted nothing more than to pull her fingers free, but she knew it would not be over if she did. It would just mean trying again and again, which would only be more painful. She yanked, and with a squelch pulled one eye free. Then she moved on to the other, removing both and setting them down. Blood poured down her cheeks from her hollow sockets. Her hands were shaking, but she brought them to cup her face and seal the wounds close with scabs. “You will go on to live another day, little bug, but it is only a matter of time before you're squashed.” Instinctively, the orc searched for the voice. But she could see no longer. If she still had eyes to cry, she might’ve, but only streaks of red ran down her cheeks. She used her spear to help her stand and used it further to guide her way. She had to get out of here, but she didn’t know how. She had not told anyone she was leaving, and no one was coming for her. She was alone, and without her eyes, she felt helpless. The quiet realm was suddenly less quiet. Gazhnahk could hear creatures move around her. They hid while she could see, but a blind animal was easy prey for them. It was difficult to get around without sight. She was given no time to adjust to it before having to fight to live. Thankfully, having explored the land before losing her eyes gave her some idea while traversing, though its help only went so far. She did not know how long she had been there, how much time had passed, but she was exhausted. She never dared to stay in one spot for long, and when she did, it was only ever to sleep for a few hours at most. She was never left at ease, though, constantly hearing noises. Perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks on her now that she could not see, but she couldn’t take the chance. She had given up her eyes for a chance at living; she couldn’t let it be for nothing. But perhaps she should. Perhaps she should have given up and let the snake eat her. At the very least, it would have been a quick death. Now it was going to be a slow and painful one. Physically, she felt like she was in hell, but mentally, she felt worse. She wanted to get out of here. She needed to get out of here. Desperately, more than anything, she wanted her sight. She wanted to see again. Being blind was a fate worse than death, and she knew that now. Those were her thoughts as she tried to find sleep hidden in the nook of a stone structure. She did not worship any deity, but she silently pleaded all the same, praying to the cosmos for help.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━ Trash, Everywhere. Rats in the Landfill by Enthuziast ━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━ The pungent stench of rot hung heavy in the air, blanketing everything in sight and making escape nigh impossible. Barren hills and scarce plains made up the landscape as Gazhnahk trotted through the realm. As far as the eye could see, piles of trash covered the land. Gazhnahk wondered where it all came from. Whose trash was this? Not even all the descendants on Azuras could produce this much. This world lacked foliage. The plants that did exist were mostly dead. Instead of vibrant green grass, she trekked through dirt, gravel, and, unfortunately, trash. As she wandered, she took out her journal, jotting down small descriptions and notes. Even though she thought it was mostly useless, she sketched some of the landscape and trash piles. She occasionally rifled through these heaps of garbage in hopes of finding something useful. The Akaal pocketed some trinkets along her journey, but nothing of particular value. Her nose wrinkled from the stench, and glass crunched beneath her feet as she made her way through hills of junk. Suddenly, she heard scrap being shuffled around and tin clacking against more tin. Quickly, she lowered herself and began moving with greater care. In the near distance, she heard muffled voices. The closer she got, the easier it became to make out what they were saying. “It’s only been a few hours. Let’s give it more time,” one deep voice spoke. “Yeah, a few hours of nothing. We got everything good from these piles days ago. Why do you keep insisting on searching them?” another scruffy voice replied. Quietly, Gazhnahk approached, using the trash to obscure herself from sight. What she saw were two thin, dirty men wearing clothing and makeshift armor sewn together from whatever they could find. They were both bent over with their arms deep in different adjacent piles of rubbish, scavenging for what they could. “You always want to call it too early, Helkur.” Helkur let out a scoff. “I do not!” Finally, she decided to make her presence known. Slowly, she stood and approached, her heavy footsteps thudding against the ground like falling stone. Both men snapped to attention, standing straight and turning toward Gazhnahk. They pulled out their weapons, though describing them as such was generous. Helkur carried a shield made from what appeared to be a tin trash lid, as well as a baton taped and welded together. The other, still nameless, carried a hook blade that had been sharpened, though poorly. “What are you?” the first questioned. “Some sort of mutated freak?” Helkur added. She held her hands up, hoping to gesture peace as she took a few paces back. “Easy. I come in peace. I can answer your questions, but I have some of my own.” She spoke in common instead of her usual dialect, doubting their ability to understand it. “Yeah? You come in peace? That’s cool,” the first said with a chuckle. “But what if we don’t? How about instead you answer our questions, and we don’t tell you anything?” Helkur then asked. “Yeah, answer our questions. And give us your stuff,” the first added. “Ooh yeah, she looks like she has some good stuff,” Helkur whispered loudly. “Give us your stuff,” he said now to Gazhnahk with a nod. The orc let out a sigh. She had hoped to learn from the inhabitants of this land, not kill them. Her helm was donned, and her spear loosened free. The shaft sank slightly into the soft earth as she leaned on the weapon. “I’m sure my belongings far surpass anything you’ve ever found in this dump, so what makes you think you’ll be capable of defeating me? This is your last chance to stand down. I don’t want to kill you.” “Us? You want us to stand down? Do you know what group we run wit-” The first one had clearly not finished speaking when she interjected. “No, and I don’t care. You will die by my hand here if you try to rob me, but it does not need to end this way.” Her grip on her spear tightened as she eyed them cautiously. Helkur spoke up now. “I like the idea of killing you and taking all your stuff far better now!” She had wanted to ask more about who that was, but it seemed she would not get her chance. Helkur rushed toward her and raised his tin bat before bringing it down on her head. The other flanked her, running around her side to get behind her. With his hook blade, he swung, attempting to pierce her side. Both hits struck true, but Gazhnahk did not react. They collided harmlessly against her magical armor. Swiftly, she drove her spear through Helkur’s stomach, but even as she stabbed him, she did not stop plunging the weapon deeper. She stared into his eyes as they grew wide with shock. He let out a pained gasp before being lifted from the ground, still skewered on her spear. Her strength was otherworldly to them. Helkur’s feet dangled around as the orc shook him on the tip of her spear before she hurled him across the junkyard. She turned to face the other man, who was already backing away in fear. “Y-you’re truly some monster…” The man hesitated only a moment before running, abandoning his friend in the face of death. He ran and ran, his eyes fixed forward. Safety was so close he was almost out of sight. The scavenger did not hear the uruk’s heavy footsteps giving chase, and with his eyes focused on what was in front of him, he did not see the uruk preparing to throw her spear. The man felt a sudden, agonizing, stinging pain spread through his leg, stemming from his knee. It felt as if his leg were burning within, as if his veins were ablaze. His eyes dropped down, and that’s when he saw the orc’s horrible, blighted spear impaled straight through his kneecap. Gazhnahk’s attention left him for now, returning to Helkur, who was bleeding out in a heaping pile of cans, bottles, garbage bags, and assorted trash. Helkur watched helplessly as the orc stalked closer, resting against the hill of junk, unable to will his body to move. The only thing he was able to do was feel the pool of his own blood grow beneath him and groan in silent suffering. The orc picked Helkur up and slammed him against the dirt; there was a crunching of plastic as he flattened a bottle beneath him. In one swift motion, the orc brought her foot high up in the air before slamming it down against his skull, her substantial weight colliding with him like a boulder and ending him off in a single brutalizing blow. Gazhnahk turned to look at the man with her spear still lodged in his leg. He was crawling away with his blood trailing after him, his fingers scraping through the dirt in desperation to get further from her. She was slow, meandering after him, drawing out his remaining moments. As she reached him, she gripped her spear and pulled it free. The unnamed scavenger screamed as she did, but she quickly silenced him by putting her spear through his head. It had not even been a day, yet Gazhnahk had already killed two residents of this plane. The Akaal ripped her spear free from the now corpse, wiping it clean. Was this the unfortunate result of her meddling? Should she not have come? No. She came to observe. She was peaceful. She did everything right. She was right. She was just trying to do her job. They chose to attack her. They gave her no other option. It was their fault, not hers. Gazhnahk put away her spear before pulling out her journal. She began writing about what happened, noting that there were locals here. She studied the remains, flipping them over so they were on their backs. Upon closer inspection, their skin was stretched tight over their bones, clearly malnourished. They both bore a similar symbol on their armor, a rune of sorts. She decided to sketch both this and their weapons and armor, labeling different sections of the latter on what she believed composed them. The sun had dipped below the horizon; the orc continued to journey through fields of litter for a while without coming upon anything notable. She did not know how long she had walked, just that her feet were growing sore and her muscles began to tense and spasm occasionally. Gazhnahk had come to use her spear as a walking staff at some point during her travels, though it did little to help the increasing fatigue. As she reached the top of a hill, Gazhnahk spotted, in the distance, a barely standing, run-down village. About fifteen huts, poorly put together from rusted metal and scavenged trash. The Akaal stood for a moment at the top of the hill, gazing down at the village. Before pulling out her journal, she stabbed the spear she held into the ground. She dedicated an entire page to the sketch as she began drawing the village. Once finished, she slid the journal away again before grabbing her spear and continuing toward the village. With little caution, the orc approached a home. The earlier events made her no longer fear the inhabitants of this plane. There came a rasping of metal against metal as she knocked on what she assumed was the door. The metal sheet shuffled as it was slid slightly to the side; this door was not on any hinges but simply rested against the house. It was a woman who had opened up. Her face looked gaunt, and her hair was thinning. Her clothes were filthy rags stitched together, and she was covered in dirt. Gazhnahk saw the fear quickly growing in the woman’s eyes. “I come in peace,” she blurted out before the woman could speak. “I don’t mean to bring you harm.” Her distrust was clear; her eyes glanced toward the spear Gazhnahk still gripped tightly. “Then why the weapon? What are you?” “I have traveled for a long time. My legs ache, but my spear aided me as a walking staff. I wasn’t trying to threaten you,” Gazhnahk responded, putting her spear away in the process. “I am a traveler who came here from a different world; I know I look different, but I promise we are much more similar than you think. Please, I am exhausted. I just want to rest, just for tonight.” “How can I trust you?” “I can leave my weapons outside if that brings you more comfort.” She hesitated, but then the woman slowly nodded. She slid the makeshift door further to the side before stepping deeper into the hut. Gazhnahk kept true to her word, putting her weapons down against the hut. Theft was not a concern of hers; her weapons bore excessive magical weight that made picking them up difficult even for humans back home, and these creatures were definitely not even close in strength to them. The tall orc had to bend her knees to enter the hut constructed for a much shorter person. As she entered, she slid the door back into place. She looked around the single-room den. She had seen goblins with larger living quarters than this. The ground was the same dirt as outside; the hut had no floor. In the corner, a small fire sat, illuminating the place, with a dented and rusted pot simmering on top. Gazhnahk called it a fire, but it was mostly glowing pieces of burnt wood with a dying flame. Stained rugs lay piled in another corner. She had to stay crouched to avoid bumping her head against the roof, deciding to sit down and rest her back against the wall. It creaked slightly, not used to supporting weight like hers, though it held for now. The woman did not live alone. Within the rugs, two beady eyes stared at Gazhnahk. “That’s Sofia. Your appearance is probably scaring her,” the woman said, noticing Gazhnahk’s attention being drawn to the rugs. “I’ve gotten that before.” She stared at the pair of eyes before turning to face the mother. “I’m willing to tell you about myself and what I am, but in turn I want to know of this realm and of you.” And so that’s what she did. She learned the woman’s name was Helen, and Helen offered her a bowl of the soup she had cooked. Gazhnahk declined after getting a whiff of the stew, which smelled absolutely rancid. The orc decided not to tell the two of the jerky she carried in her pouch as the mother and daughter ate their meal. They ate from old tin dishes, simply drinking from them since they had no utensils. Gazhnahk told them of herself as they ate, though she was less than truthful. She spun a long tale about how she had come from a place where everyone looked like her, and then, randomly, one day she woke up here, both unsure how she had ended up here and unsure how to get back. They seemed to relax the more she talked and told them about herself. From them, she learned more about the place she had traveled to. The orc learned that the entire realm looked like what she had seen all day, a wasteland of landfills. The inhabitants were forced to scrounge through trash all day to find food and survive. They told her about a clan of scavengers based not far from this village. The scavengers would often come to take from the residents of this town and other nearby settlements. Gazhnahk wondered the point. Why fight to live in a place like this? Why have children to carry on the cycle? What was the point of their continued existence? She also learned who led them: a Sarrim Durahd. The orc produced her journal and flipped to the page with the rune on it, asking them about it. It was Durahd’s crest. Helen questioned where she had seen it, and another lie was told. She created another tale about how she had run into two men who bore the crest, how they had tried to take all of her belongings, but she convinced them to walk away with a few trinkets of hers as trophies. “But you look so strong, though…” Sofia commented. “I am. That is why I was able to talk them down.” “But why not just scare them away?” “Sometimes meeting on a mutual ground is easier. It avoids headaches later down the line.” “If you’re so strong, can you help us? Please?” Gazhnahk looked at Helen during Sofia’s plea. She had hoped she would chastise her daughter, but she only added fuel to the flame. “Durahd’s clan terrorizes us, and not just the people of this village, but so many others. Please… You look like you can help us.” Gazhnahk shook her head. It was not her place to involve herself, to disrupt the order of other realms. Her duty was that of an observer: to watch and learn. Besides, what would be the point? She didn’t owe them anything, and another group would eventually come to fill the void she would create. “I’ll think about it… That’s a lot that you’re both asking for.” Another lie. Gazhnahk had no intention of helping. “That’s all we can ask for, I suppose. Thank you.” “It is I who should be thanking you.” A few hours passed as Helen and Gazhnahk continued to chat. Sofia had fallen asleep after only an hour or two, curling herself up in a rug. Helen handed Gazhnahk her own rug to sleep in before wrapping herself up and heading to bed. They slept in rugs like beggars, Gazhnahk thought, lying down with a rug on top of her, no different from them. Her exhaustion had made her indifferent to the matter. The comfort of closing her tired eyes was the only thing that mattered to her now. Sleep was never easy for Gazhnahk, and tonight was no different. She was running through a cave, a large basilisk slithering close behind her. The nightmare caused cold sweat to soak the earth beneath her. Ever closer the basilisk got with each step the orc took. Even though she sprinted as fast as she could, the snake crawled along the ground more quickly. As it drew near, it opened its wide maw before chomping down on Gazhnahk. The Akaal’s eyes snapped open. Nightmares were not something new to her, but that did not make them any less unpleasant. Before she could even properly register what she had dreamt, her mind began to register something else she saw. It was Helen looming over the orc with a rusty blade, being brought closer to the orc’s neck. This brought Gazhnahk out of her slumber like ice-cold water being poured on her. She wrapped her hand around Helen’s twig-like wrist and yanked her away while squeezing tightly. An underfed woman was easy for the orc to outmatch in a contest of strength. Gazhnahk hurriedly began to get up while maintaining her hold on Helen. “What do you think you’re doing?” Gazhnahk shouted in a rage. Helen let go of the blade and let it fall to the ground as the orc squeezed her wrist. She remained kneeling at the uruk’s feet and began to sob. “Please, I’m sorry… I just needed your things for my daughter, I’m begging, don’t hurt me.. She’s starving, and I could’ve gotten food… please, I’m sorry.. It was for her- think of her-” “Don’t try to use your kid to justify your wrongdoings.” Gazhnahk squeezed harder on her wrist, “You’d be lucky if all I did was hurt you.” Then, just for the briefest moment, Gazhnahk paused as the woman continued to sob. It took only a moment for the orc to feel a degree of pity and empathy as her eyes looked up and glimpsed Sofia. In the corner, she hid beneath rugs, silently watching, stilled by fear. “Thank her, for she is the only reason you will go on to continue living out your miserable existence.” The Akaal threw the woman to the ground, who remained a sobbing, disheveled mess as Gazhnahk gathered her belongings, including her weapons from outside, and headed off. It was dawn when the orc set out once more. She had decided she had her fill of this dump as she logged what she learned from Helen in her journal, though she would come back to learn more one day. As the Akaal prepared to set off into the depths of the cosmos again, she ‌hoped it would offer more than trash. ━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━

— · — · ✦ · — · — Down the Rabbit Hole — · — · ✦ · — · — It didn’t take long for Gazhnahk to feel that call once more, that desire to roam the limitless cosmos. In the depths of a cave she sat at a desk, toiling over the tome she had been given like she had been every night. Quickly she stood up, knocking her chair over in her haste. She snapped the book shut and put it away in her pouch. The Akaal gathered some belongings, things she knew she would need. Last to be grabbed was a large bag of salt before the orc headed to the corner of her chambers. With a handful of salt she began to form a circle, making sure that the circle had no gaps in its formation. The uruk used her tusk to bite the tip of her finger to draw blood. As her blood spilled, she used it as ink to form runes, the meaning behind some known only to her. She repeated a familiar sequence, intending on traveling to a place she had visited previously. With the runes complete she placed herself at the center of the circle, sitting within it. The orc crossed her legs and relaxed her hands on her knees before letting her eyes fall closed. The blood shaman began to chant in the tongue of the spirits, asking her ancestors for guidance. As her words picked up pace, white light streaked with a multitude of colors began to form around her, fluid but crystal-like with sharp edges as it flowed from the ground up toward the sky into a blinding glow. The light began to cloud her room, whisking her away into the cosmos. She began to swim through the fabric of reality, for the very first time alone and in control. This time was different for another reason as well, she knew the plane she wanted to go to. She had been there once before. The prismatic light appeared on the grand deck, and shortly after the orc followed suit. Gazhnahk took a look around her, finding herself in the main observing deck of the multiversal observatory once more. She began walking the halls with some idea now of where she was going and where she was. Like it had been on her first visit, the observatory seemed empty. This brought the same weird nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach that it had brought the first time. Why would a structure entirely man-made be empty? The Akaal claimed one of the many rooms, one near the main deck. She put her shield down and the large bag she brought. Then she emptied her pouch of everything but the book, a pouch of salt, and a journal with only blank pages. The orc spent days filling the first pages of her journal with information about the observatory. She mapped its halls, sketched its contraptions, and detailed anything she could. She kept her spear on her, ever paranoid. When she slept, the orc barricaded the door to the room she took shelter in. It was still not enough to bring her comfort and she got little sleep through the night, or what she presumed was night. Even what little sleep she got was plagued by strange dreams. She now functioned on her own schedule. The observatory floating through empty nothingness meant she had no sun or moon to guide her. After detailing the observatory she would spend her days on its main deck, where the large telescope that poked through the dome roof led. The deck had three tiered layers, with each one dipping lower than the first. Two paths of stairs divided each deck into thirds and connected them. From the first deck off to the sides were more stairs that led up this time into a balcony and lounge area that floated above the observing deck. The telescope’s eye hung in the center of the middle deck. Gazhnahk ignored the telescope for now, making her way down the steps to the third deck. She stared out into the vast emptiness of space between all dimensions. A perfect, pure black void except for the shining speckles glittering in the distance. — · — · ✦ · — · — — · — · ✦ · — · — The orc watched the stars through the glass of the giant dome, standing there and doing little else. The occasional yawn or cough interrupted the silence, but nothing else disturbed her. Once she grew tired she would retire to her chambers, barricading her door before waking up to do it all over again. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was doing it, day after day just watching the stars. Perhaps it was how small it made her feel in the grand scheme. Her problems felt so inconsequential as she gazed upon the countless realms. In fact it made the war she dealt with feel like the smallest issue in the entire universe. Maybe that’s how it started, but as weeks passed a longing grew in Gazhnahk. She always had a craving for knowledge and now she was being shown a limitless fount of it. She could spend eons traversing the galaxies, but would even she have enough time to learn it all? So she continued to stand, and long, and stare out. How long had passed was no longer something the orc could be certain of. Finally inaction turned to action. One day after Gazhnahk awoke, instead of walking down to the first deck like she always had, she made her way up the steps of the balcony. She walked along its railings until she got toward the center of it. She rested her hands upon it and looked out, staring through the glass at the far twinkling dots in the distance. This became her new routine and even more time passed. Gazhnahk had forgotten why she originally came. For what purpose had she set out? All she knew now was the longing to learn among the stars. Finally the day came when Gazhnahk did not walk up the steps toward the balcony but instead down to the telescope. She peered through the eyeglass and cranked the gears of the ancient mechanism. It lurched to life with a loud screech of metal grinding against metal. As the telescope moved and focused a world appeared within its view, though calling it a world was quite the overstatement. It was nothing more than a room set ablaze. A large box was propped over the room via a stick with a string attached. Certainly an odd and simple realm, but nevertheless she did not move the telescope off it. Day after day she returned to the telescope, detailing what she could in her journal and attempting a sketch. The fire never seemed to go away and the room did get ruined, but never completely destroyed no matter how long she watched. She found this realm most curious and wondered its reason. Perhaps not everything needed a purpose. After gathering what she could, the Akaal then moved on. The orc cranked the telescope once more and it shifted again, the machinery of the dome turning. What appeared in her sights was a realm not much unlike her own. It had forests, bodies of water, mountains, and possibly even small towns, though the view from the observatory wasn’t perfect. Gazhnahk spent even longer watching over this realm. She looked for anything that might set it apart from hers. A page of her journal was sprawled with what she could learn, but alas it seemed like an ordinary realm. Moving on, she worked the machinations of the telescope and it seemed for the last time, as she settled it on a realm and felt it stiffen more and more. It fought her until it moved no more, with a final third realm in its view. It appeared the old machine had grown exhausted from her toying, though it mattered little to her. — · — · ✦ · — · — — · — · ✦ · — · — As she gazed upon the third realm she realized it was by far the most interesting she had seen. She watched a new season come and then, a few minutes later, leave and be replaced by another. A cycle that took months in her realm seemed to happen multiple times an hour in this far away land. She had lost track of time long ago, but it was likely weeks if not months that she spent watching this realm, noting every shift and observing as much as she possibly could. Her journal now filled with pages of sketches and detailed notes, she spent countless days just watching the seasons shift. Finally so much time had passed that even this grew boring. The Akaal decided she must go down the rabbit hole. She had to know what was out there. She walked down the halls of the observatory once more, putting anything in her satchel she might need. Finally, once all was explored again, she returned to the room she had been calling her own. She gathered all her belongings before barricading the door. Once she felt safe she began to form her circle of salt, painting runes in blood within it. Though she had not used the runes she had used to get here, it was not a return she was making. The orc stepped within and began her chants, the blinding prismatic light that had brought her here forming once more and sending her off to a new place, one she had never been to before. — · — · ✦ · — · —

Not Alone DeivCalviz Gazhnahk was so enthralled by the text written on the ancient parchment of the tome she held that the uruk did not realize the brick she laid her back against had shifted to bark. Her eyes scanned the pages, devouring the knowledge they contained with an insatiable hunger. Her bone-clad fingers shook with fervor as they flicked between the delicate pages. Suddenly she stopped in her movements, frozen, fingers still clinging to a page mid-flip. Her nose scrunched as it was assaulted with a nauseating scent, and for the first time since she opened the book Gazhnahk pulled her eyes from its aged paper. She scanned her surroundings. No longer did she sit on the hard dirt ground of the goi, but instead upon the soft mud of unknown swamps. Sounds of creatures caught her attention, snaps of branches and the growling of unknown beings as they roamed around her in their habitat, one that she had invaded and knew nothing about. With a soft thud she snapped the book shut and slid it away as she stood up and tried to get a better bearing of where she was. The overwhelming smell, combined with the strange fog blanketing the swamps, disoriented her senses, making the orc ever more confused and on edge. Only two things were certain within Gazhnahk’s mind as the sound of her racing, drumming heart rang in her ears. She was in a land foreign to her plane, and she must escape. The sound of twigs snapping under great weight and the movement of massive beasts through the murky waters of the swamp put her on high alert. The rumbling growl of something unknown coming from the dense trees made her next move all but certain. She wasted little time trekking through the dense mud, gripping her spear tightly in both hands. Gazhnahk kept glancing around her surroundings as she shifted through the dark waters, every foreign noise drawing her gaze. As she moved through the bog made shallow by her height, the uruk felt something bump against her leg. Instinct kicked in, and in a single swift movement her spear pierced whatever it was that dared get close to her. In the dark it was hard for her to see, but she focused her vision on what was swimming through the swamps. It took her only moments to realize it was a man in armor foreign to her. Upon closer inspection it was obvious it was not her spear that killed this man, as his body had been rotting for some time. Gazhnahk took a better look at her surroundings and realized this body was one of many. Countless rotting corpses littered the muddy water, both human and steeds alike. “A battleground,” the orc thought to herself. Her mind raced and the desire to leave only grew stronger. She kept close to the trees and moved through the bushes, attempting to use the foliage to obscure her movements from anyone who might be watching. After what felt like a few hours, though Gazhnahk could not be certain as the sky remained always dark and the thick, foggy mist shielded the moon, she felt as though she had only moved in circles. Exhaustion grew, cloaking her like a heavy blanket. Her movements grew slow and sluggish, the thick mud making walking even more tiring. A stinging dryness made her vision even more obscured. She did not enjoy the idea of resting in a place like this, but she found comfort in the nook of a tree hidden well with shrubbery. Curling up, sleep did not find the orc easily. Every sound snapped her eyes open and constant paranoia would not let her mind rest. She lay there for what felt like an eternity and Gazhnahk did not even realize the moment she fell asleep. A noise ripped her from her slumber, distant but loud. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes. The Akaal felt mildly better, less exhausted. Even though she had managed to get some rest, Gazhnahk knew sitting there any longer could prove ill-boding. Learning from the prior day’s mistakes, Gazhnahk decided to mark her path. Using a knife, she made small cuts in the bark of trees along her path close to their base. After some time passed and many marks in trees later, the orc realized she kept getting turned around and was making very little progress. Moving smarter now, she used landmarks, marking with her knife and sticks, and did her best to keep her path moving forward. Sicarius8 Eventually progress was finally made as she came upon what looked like a shabby hut. The wood was dark in hue and appeared rotting. Moss and mold grew along its boards and filled its cracks, and it seemed carelessly put together, though at her distance it was hard to tell. She knew she would have to get closer to learn more, but she could not ignore the feeling of unease settling deep within her gut. She forced one foot forward, then the next, making her way slowly and carefully toward the hut. Mud squelched beneath the weight of her steps, and water swished and splashed as she moved through it. As she neared the wooden hut the smell of rot grew thick, more pungent than the usual scent that hung in the air of these swamps. A purple glow, shifting between a reddish tone and a more bluish hue, seeped from the cracks of the aging wood and a panel-less window. The light caught her attention as she drew closer, deciding to duck beneath the window. Slowly the uruk raised her head until her eyes just peeked over the windowsill. Inside she saw a kitchen in a disastrous state of organized chaos. Herbs and plants hung from the ceiling and rested against the walls. Jars, boxes, and other baubles covered every inch of shelving, counters, and tables. The kitchen had a large fireplace with a massive bubbling cauldron, the flames an unnatural shade of purple. She waited, listening for a time, and after feeling somewhat confident the hut was empty she rose. She swung one leg over the windowsill before kicking her other leg over, trying to quietly enter the kitchen, but the floorboards creaked beneath her great weight. The old, rotting wood sank slightly, making the uruk uneasy and wondering if it would hold. Quickly she shuffled through cabinets and drawers, picking up jars and inspecting them before quickly putting them back down. It took her minutes to search, but each one felt like an hour to the orc, each one bringing new beads of sweat to her brow. Her hands grew shaky, but they finally grabbed onto what she was looking for. She withdrew her hands from the very back of a cabinet, and with them a jar of salt. She spent a few more minutes shuffling through the homeowner’s belongings. A strange hand suspended in murky grey water inside a large jar caught her attention. It was mostly skeletal, though some flesh and muscle still loosely clung to the bone. Occasionally the fingers would twitch on their own. Slam. A loud noise followed by creaking and footsteps sounded at the other end of the hut. Gazhnahk was no longer alone. The homeowner had returned. A cackle sounded down the hall and the hoarse voice of an old lady boomed, “Who’s peeking about my home? Come for some tea?” The unsettling laughter did not fill Gazhnahk with a sense of comfort. She quickly snatched the jar and returned to the window, making her escape as the woman ran down the hall. She began to shuffle and navigate carefully through the bushes. From behind came the slamming of the kitchen door being roughly forced open and the angry shouts of the witch as she realized her kitchen had been ruffled through. Gazhnahk did not slow down, using the markings she left on the trees to help navigate her back. Hizumi-Tsukasa Even when the shouting grew distant and eventually faded, the uruk did not stop slinking through the swamps. Though perhaps she should have been more careful. Unlike before, she no longer prioritized subtlety and instead moved at a quickened pace. She must have drawn the attention of other locals, as a claw suddenly came down and attempted to sink its sharp claws into her shoulder. Luckily it seemed her armor was enough to protect her, though the being was strong and she was caught off guard. Gazhnahk was thrown off her footing and stumbled back, quickly reaching for her spear. It was hard to see in the unlit swamps, but Gazhnahk narrowed her gaze at what attacked her. It could only be described as an abomination, a bipedal hyena with a sort of humanoid figure. He was draped in muddied cloth and leather armor, and she noticed he had looted some of his wardrobe from the dead legionaries. She readied her spear as he lunged forward, and when his claws came she used her great strength and reinforced gauntlet to block. At the same time she lowered her spear before driving it forward with her other arm and into his gut, easily piercing his leather armor. The azhl made quick work of neutralizing the gnoll and Gazhnahk did not wait around to watch it die. She quickly and carefully navigated the swamps until she found a small clear spot near a tree. She pulled out the ancient book she carried and the jar of salt. She sat down and placed both on the ground before her, quickly preparing the rite for her return. Gazhnahk had survived her first solo trip.

So suddenly my opponent needs line of sight on my spell while its being charged? Are they helping me channel mana into now?

A necromancer cackled in glee as the rift was formed, admiring it in awe and wonder. She praised and bowed to the Wraith-Lord.

T

this feels like a way for corcitra to subvert punishments of getting caught via ooc mechanics of not consenting oocly. Once caught the corcitra can go along with getting cured while not consenting oocly, everyone believes they are then cured, and then they go back to being a corcitra. Even though there is a punishment have having to wait to go back to being whatever tier they were at, I still feel like this gives people a way to abuse what is imo essentially an ooc mechanic. If im understanding this incorrectly then I could be wrong.

If you actually crped instead of just theorycrafting on discord you’d realize it isn’t that crazy. Even in the scenario you listed where they just pin down their opponent (which any opponent a voidstalker faces will be physically stronger than them and can just slap them) the voidstalker wouldn’t be able to do anything else and would just be depleting their mana. You can get far better results like any other spell, not to mention the entirety of illusion. Like no voidstalkers really touch this spell, i think I used it a total of one time in my years of playing.