Morigung-oog

Following the skullsplitting agony of enduring a vision while her surroundings of Aaun were washed away without mercy, Valindra took to investigating the heartless cur who had brought the wrath of the void down unto the good, GOD-fearing people of Aaun. Readying not only emergency supplies for those left without home, her path led her to various void-sympathizing settlements. At the end of the day, however, all the evidence she'd painstakingly gathered led her to one specific place, and one very specific person. "I've got you now... May GOD have mercy on you, for I won't."

Now to endure the wave of applications clogging the forums and to downvote all of them…

[Art by Aotsuyu https://tensor.art/models/626754591977086968] Solitude… An apt description for that which the watcher Valindra Nullivari currently dwelled in, at least to those who somehow managed to peer through the window to her palatial room amongst the upper echelons of humanity. The ‘aheral lived a life of luxury compared to that of the common man. Her quarters were lined with elaborate paintings, chairs and a bed so elaborate, a commoner would have to part with years of his hard-earned salary to even come close to the cost of such. Despite these comforts, the Voidal Oracle had taken up a kneel on the cold stone floor. To most of the Marchdom of Stassion, it would seem as though Valindra were engaged in prayer, yet upon closer examination, her eyes had been consumed by the galaxies. The veil and the infinite planes that lurked beyond sprawled out across irises, sclera and all, mimicking the night’s sky in all its otherworldly beauty, yet somehow so much more… Along with that of her eyes, her mind too seemed worlds away. So deeply enveloped in their ventures that several knocks upon the door to her room from a servant went completely unanswered. Where her body was still, devoid of movement, her mind was toiling away, seeking the answers that mortalkind had not yet been provided with… Stood amidst an unending sea of stars nestled between glorious waves of cerulean, midnight and indigo, the incorporeal form of the mali reached out into the vast expanse, seeking that which lurked beyond the reach of most magi. The First Watcher floated almost serenely in place, her translucent features shifted into a look of calm focus. She drifted gracefully among the very edges of the veil, as though tempting the very threads of fate to grasp at her. Alas, it was not fate who sought her out, but the numerous tendrils of countless entities, one after the other. With each brief touch, flashes of knowledge appeared before Valindra, though no matter how valuable, they were not what she sought. Deeper towards the edge she plunged. Where once were tendrils and tentacles that reached out to meet her grasp were that which was far more visceral. In some cases, the masses reaching towards her were beyond comprehension, beyond that which a mere mortal could even begin to describe. The passage of time seemed to matter not to the scion up until the moment the stars, providing a comforting light seemed to flicker out, to die one by one. Where once she could see all, she could now feel a terrifying absence creeping upon her. Entropy. The mali’s breath promptly caught, a panic rising within her, that spurred on her determination. Forwards she pressed, beyond the appendages now more actively trying to grasp her, to pull her forth into oblivion. Her pulse quickened, straining against her neck, serving as a timer, a vital countdown until she would fall victim to that which she was so desperate to pry into. There were few fates worse than losing one’s soul to the void. Her heart thrummed, all but threatening to leap out of her chest as that darkness creeped in from the corners of her vision, and from them, a thousand eyes peering at her, staring beyond her pathetic mortal husk. Now reduced to ragged gasps, the final stars did not flicker, but were seemingly consumed, devoured by something her mind refused to comprehend, as though protecting her from a truth too terrible to be believed. Three, Two, One. As the darkness enveloped her surroundings, and she was greeted with but a brief taste of true absence, a sharp tug was given around her neck, sending the mali writhing and reeling. Her nails scratched at the fleshy mass, though due to the spectral nature of her being, it did naught. Even if it were visible, not even a scratch had been left upon that squishy, foul-smelling abyssal mass coiled around her. Resistance felt futile. When she fought back, it fought back with a fury redoubled, unrelenting with its grasp upon her. As the once simplicity of breathing became a process too complex for Valindra to achieve, she let out a pained, hoarse cry, and a final plea. “Where are you?” As that grasp closed around her with crushing pressure, the translucent form of the pale mali collapsed in on itself, into an ominous mist of fathomless noir, intermingled with a core of amethyst lightning that dispersed with one final crunch of that being’s appendage around her. For now, she had escaped the clutches of true chaos, a paradox, both alive and dead, both orderly and chaotic, both there and not, though the cost of her actions was undoubtedly soon to follow.

Valindra reads number four and furrows her brows, thinking of her elven kin. She promptly breathes a sigh of relief, however, upon realising that elves are not, in fact, people.

The elfess in question offers that of a sinister smirk to her apprentice while dragging a whetstone down the length of an Azhl blade. A mere nod was then offered as she turned to jot down the names in a little black book that sat strapped to her belt.

"How very two-faced of our old friend, Raziel." A certain elfess mused from the safety of Haense where her faith in GOD shielded her from prosecution. "He's gone from hating the Ibarellens with all his being to brown-nosing his way to adoption. What a parasite."

A bitter and jaded elfess sharpens her spear...

A very fashionable 'thill flipped her hair stylishly after being branded as one of the most stylish members of Haelun'orian society. Adjusting her dark tricorn and rolling up the sleeves of her tailcoat, she ambled off to make mischief.

The hero lotc never knew it needed.

Quite easy Void mages get a -1 to strength defense but a +1 to spirit Voidal Scions get a +1 to strength offense in exchange for a -1 to spirit Gold and salt does +2 damage to CAs, MAs and FAs affected by gold and salt. Hitting an Azdrazi with a cold weapon or projectile grants them a -1 bonus to skill defense and skill offense for two turns OR does +2 damage to them.

A long-lost Thelin ally grinned and began scheming. It had been too long since she had seen her friends.

A canonist elf mage, baptized by the church in the 1600s and having served on the Empire's privy council sharpened her blade. The crusade must go forth.

The changes look nice, but there's also some concerns I have. 2 emotes to hurl a sharp ice projectile makes bows redundant and may encourage spam casting. I think a lot more could be done to make water evo more on par with the other voidal evocations but I'm not sure reducing emote counts is the way. I'd say make ice sharp at t3, allow water to potentially scald for extra damage at t3+, encourage more extreme bludgeoning damage or spells that scale with tiers.

"Gah!" The joint first watcher whined as she was overpowered by the vision, dropping to the ground in the centre of Haense during a dog racing competition. She drew forth ragged breaths, though thankfully her recovery was hastened by some kindly Haensefolk. "I need to find Haus.." She finally rasped out, whistling for her beloved Yisar. The contents of the vision, the communion had left her confused and conflicted. Most visions were vague, but this one was even more so than usual.

A highly stylish and coveted bachelorette, Valindra let forth a cackle at her rival’s misfortune. She promptly got to work, deciding to show the lad some kindness, and thus began jotting down a letter with tips on how to be more desirable, from style down to self destructive tendencies. The resident gremlin hoped she’d long since passed her days of courtship, herself.

"Hold on. I though Xionists weren't supposed to attack the church of Canon." A Xionist-sympathiser was forced to doubletake at the contents of the letter, her brows furrowing in utter befuddlement.

Valindra sat within the comfort of her Haelun’orian room, twirling a dagger betwixt her digits as she read over a copy of the missive she’d snagged up on her travels. ”… The piglet is about to become a pork chop. My friends shall feast..”

"You know.." Valindra pointed out upon hearing of the dweds' attack on the the Vale. "Not to be the devil's advocate, but it is the Vale... I'm almost starting to like these ballsy halfpints."

Shink Shink Shink From an undisclosed location, a whetstone dragged across a blade forged from thanhic steel. A mournful lament. Where once an elfess had faith, her hope renewed, was now a husk, filled with regret for years invested, blood spilled and tears shed. The final straw had been plucked, the final nail hammered into the coffin. There was much Valindra had been all too happy to overlook, many crimes, faults, flaws, for they did the same despite her frequent and felonious activities... But this was too far. A line had been crossed. With a flourish, her blade was sheathed, and she turned to gather up a mass of wooden planks, some nails and a hammer. "I was a fool to think they'd stand so much as the faintest of chance at redemption... I'm sorry, Kosher."

A certain chaotic pale elfess lovingly named Vuln by the Maheral she turned against grinned, rubbing her gloved hands together. "Hah! They got that right. I was born right between goose and fox!"

Shunting so I can shunt to a magical realm and learn magic anyway. Big W moment.

How many taters would you say you’ve bought for people over the years, accounting for the great tater spamfests of yore?

Valindra's tricorn about to become 100x more badass.

LETSFUCKINGOOO :DDD

The industrial revolution is inbound. You cannot stop fate!