Ryloth

+1 make the voidal mages poor

Updated per pending status, see changelog, also shown below:

After sending forth Sir Tobias de Sarkozy upon his quest along the path to Asioth, teacher sat silent as student trekked into the world. The task: convert one who opposes the Titan, or slay them where they stand. He could have chosen anyone: holy knight, necromancer, druid, or demon yet Sir Tobias did simply find one so wicked and strange -- he chose a friend who was wicked and strange. As Haskir sat pondering the moments when the Sarkozy had left the gates of San Luciano, he wondered for a minute if he'd return. He was certain Tobias would -- why send a student to his death? That very same night, Haskir watched the fall of an armsman of Savoy, felled by an otherwise innocent trio of orcs assaulted by the people there, Savoyard men who sought to demand these green-skins kneel before their all-mighty God. This man -- one who had moments before shook the pantera's hand, a man of honor and courage who had fought hours prior against an interloping beast on the beaches afore -- lay dead. So thin, that thread of life. Thinking of Tobias and the armsman, he settled down against a barrel on the street side. Gazing up, he saw the same stars they bore witness to atop that frigid mountain so far away. He felt at peace -- as did they. Now he awaited his herald's return -- perhaps, a convert in tow.

[THIS POST IS ONLY AVAILABLE TO HERALDS OF AZDROMOTH AND AZDRAZI. DO NOT METAGAME.] A CALL TO TRIAL FOR: HIS MAJESTY King Heinrik II of Haenseti-Ruska As a Herald of Azdromoth, it is your duty to uphold the tenets of our Lord the Arch-Drakaar, and to protect our brothers and sisters of kith, the Azdrazi who guide your way to the auric gift of ASIOTH. It is your duty to protect the realm to ensure the sanctity of our Lord's lands and charters be without harm by the otherworldly influences of damned aengudaemonica, the Void, the Infernal realms, etcetera. Today, your faith to our cause has become questioned for your open letter to Urguan. Your alignment to Urguan's forces rather than neutrality or to our brother Draakopf Doomforged and his most righteous and honorable rebellion to seize the obsidian throne of dwarven kind is curious, for the lands of Urguan bear the festering forces of the Aengul who shall not be named and the Vasiyeva to which proclaim holy crusade upon our kind. Once upon a time I was called to trial, and I answered. So shall you. Grow from this -- do not wither. ♛ FOR BREAKAGE OF: TENET V - The cretin who slaughters our kin, the accursed Aengul who shall not be named, must be opposed at every opportunity, for he is our bane. ♛ YOU WILL: Venture to the Temple of Ei'Othdra to kneel before the Eye of Azdromoth and our Council of Embers, which shall consist of Ri'Haskir'Kul, Marchosias, and Ruvaak in convention with our brothers and sisters, heralds and ordained. Your loyalties shall be reviewed. AAL OK YOL AAK The Herald of Azdromoth Ri'Haskir Therkul, Lord of Aaz Hahdrim [THIS POST IS ONLY AVAILABLE TO HERALDS OF AZDROMOTH AND AZDRAZI. DO NOT METAGAME.]

Haskir remembers standing at Cloud Temple when Mordrin Doomforged first appeared. As he watched the dwed run by, he lofted a brow. "Who the hell is that? It reads like 'Mordring', is he a dragon-worshipper too?"

broo?.. it's dark dael @Xx_BloodStalk_xX

"A shame such a place of godly worship and beauty must burn." The Kharajyr quietly says, shaking his head. "But it would nay happen if not for the threats of the Church." Haskir smiles, patting his herald on the back. "Your trials come along well."

"It is so strange," Haskir says, "That the dwarves speak of Brathmordakin yet listen to acolytes of a brazen aengul." He shakes his head, "Sheer irony on all fronts." Pausing, he quietly humms. "Legend has it, it was the dwed who released Azdromoth long ago from his slumber." He begins to head on his way, away from where the missive is posted. "It is a wonder those of greed do not follow the richest lord of the land."

Honestly it's just an arcane conduit or whatever the hell that TV screen object is you can build. Could be used for metagaming and is likely the largest concern, but if it's based on OOC consent, nobody should whine. idk anything about Seer

Haskir remembers executing the very same witch in Haelun'or moons ago. "Look! It's that guy again!" He says, beckoning to Aldis Avalorn. @Caelria

thats the point im p sure

because the void sucks and is only a concept because "the void" is a feature of minecraft lore dating back to pre-aegis story writing if the server had a more D&D-esque system like any other magical world where magic is just magic and doesn't stick you in a wheel chair, give you cancer, and has extremely unflavorful limitations so dull that you bore yourself to sleep and move on to deifics and dark magics, i think player retention of the whole dreamy-eyed fantasy crowd would increase by a rate of half i always see the light in some new player's eye staunched once they realize how abhorrently boring and limiting voidal magic is. the only good voidal magics are illusion, conjuration, and tfig because they're the closest things you can get to creativity. the others are all bland, underexplained, or too weakening to make it fun. while the eldritch evil uber dark of the void is avoidable, it's still void. you get cancer, can't be a spell-sword, can't wear any armor at all, the magic is re-written to re-visit the same age-old attempts to "make void magic better" like every other month, and it's not a "worldly" magic so half of everyone wants to blow your brains out for using it or they bully and laugh at you for being a voidal chimp. thats probably why imo

+1 because I vehemently hate Voidal magic lore.

"I hate Snoreland, but I hate half-price Ferrymen even more." Haskir says before picking some Rustler bandanas from the Rustler-Ferryman skirmish site from the other day.

+1 agent of chaos

Orenian ISA veteran testing new Aeldinic blunderbuss, Y1910 SA.

Haskir lofts the corpse of an impure slain in the citadel over the symbol of purity by their hair. Blood pools upon the floor as Sillumir and Okarir alike gaze in disgust, but he felt righteous, and just! A servant to the state no doubt, and certainly one that would bring the end of those who might dare lose too many points on the new points scale.

[!] A note was posted over the wanted message. BOUNTY CLAIMED & COMPLETED.

Riding hard after the letter from his friend, he made way for the site of the Inquisitor Eternal's demise. So hard that his warhorse weighted with barding and equipment fell to the bitter cold as he entered the Northern tundra. He'd rushed from Aaz Hahdrim from the island of Karinah'siol to the Northern countryside of Haenseti-Ruska, but no matter his speed nor his steed, Oliver Helane had already died. Eluitholnear was gone. Nothing more, and nothing less. Dismounting the exhausted and fallen stallion, he abandoned his belongings and ran the rest of the way. He knew it was too late. So it was. He followed the nearly snowed-over footprints of a staggering form, black substance trailing behind until suddenly, he met a statue. Bizarre, the sight. Surrounded in the belongings of the by-gone Oliver Helane, Haskir froze in place. Petrified all the same, disbelief surmounted all else. He sat nearby against a tree, watching, waiting. He heard the mocking calls of the Sword of the Drakaar stuck blade-end to the soil. He almost wanted to destroy that vitriolic weapon where it stood. Ignoring it, he observed. Would the statue begin to move? Was it all a figment of the imagination? Surely, it was just a mysterious circumstance. It was not. The Inquisitor Eternal was not so eternal after all.

"Oh, I almost thought they forgot about us again." Haskir laughs, "Pretty much all of that is true save for any of the dark magics non-sense. It's been known for ages. Why care now all of the sudden?"

A Kharajyr runs the flat of an ancient bronze sabre with a silken cloth, its stained and mottled metal dull against a candle light nearby. Still the tool stood, a remnant of a by-gone kingdom of yore, of Ioth'Vah. Taking up the weapon by its handle he peers over both sides of the blade. A bolt of tattered cloth wrapped the pommel, dangling its crimson banner in a dull sun and water stained hue of rustic aura. Fa'Rot Zin-Tamn was a beautiful weapon, but an old one. Settling it atop the tabletop at his side, he leans back in his seat. The smell of the explosion across the water where what used to be Ando Alur still hanged in the air. "Ignorant as ever." He murmured in remark towards the missive. He thought of what might have been if the voidal tear hadn't been closed, if it only grew larger, more unstable, before shaking his head in disappointment with the Descendants once again.

Haskir, one who was born into slavery until his mid-teens, smiles the Sun's Smile.