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Adaptation/Reactive Evolution
Cho'Gath's complex biology quickly converts matter into new bodily growth—increasing its muscle mass and density, or hardening its outer carapace like organic diamond.
It hisses, a noise I cannot tell is of pain or pleasure, as a pair of new limbs erupt and unfurl into hideous, dripping wings. It has seen the threat I pose, and so it changes.
The Void grows, and the Void adapts—in none of its myriad spawn are these truths more apparent than Kha'Zix. Evolution drives the core of this mutating horror, born to survive and to slay the strong. Where it struggles to do so, it grows new, more effective ways to counter and kill its prey.
A vicious Void predator, Kha'Zix infiltrated Valoran to devour the land's most promising creatures. With each kill he absorbs his prey's strength, evolving to grow more powerful.
The beast blew apart from the inside, gobbets of newly-wrought flesh disintegrating before the moonblade's power. She landed and swayed aside from the last beast's attack. Not fast enough. Razored talons punched through the steel of her pauldrons and dragged her around. The beast's chest split apart, revealing a glutinous mass of sense organs and hooked teeth.
The beast had tasted her blood and hissed with predatory hunger. Its armored form was now entirely gloss black and venomous purple. Bladed arms unfolded and remade themselves in a fan of hooks and talons.
Arms that would be impossible in nature hook over the edge of the abyss, dragging a monstrous horror of rasping armor plates, bony protrusions, and flesh the color of something stillborn. It's still wet and glistening from its arrival into this world, but it has infinite malice in the black eyes that ripple to life on its upper carapace. Blade limbs unfold from its pallid belly, and a lipless mouth tears open across its throat, a wide gash of gleaming white fangs and drooling ichor.
Webs of light and twitching matter knit its flesh together, like a weaver sewing a torn blanket. Its huge bulk convulses, rippling as it reforms wounded flesh and pushes out new limbs, hardening areas of weakness. Burning tendrils of dark light spray from its splitting flesh, cracking like whips against the ground.
Reality Warping
The air and light writhe around it. They do not want to touch it either.
Their very presence distorts the air, and slivers of dissolving matter rise like black smoke from the rock beneath their claws.
Regenerationn
They fought from sunset to sunrise. Finally, near death, they reluctantly separated. As his wounds closed, Kha'Zix burned with anticipation at the idea of devouring one who could match the Void's strength.
Unnatural flesh flowed like wax to seal the awful wound her blade had ripped.
Its body tears open and tar-black ichor spills out. It screeches in pain, lashing out with its impossibly angled limbs...I flip backward as its body crashes down, but it's not dead...whatever that means to the Voidborn. It draws the blood of the smaller creatures up into its limbs, drinking their very essence. Webs of light and twitching matter knit its flesh together, like a weaver sewing a torn blanket. Its huge bulk convulses, rippling as it reforms wounded flesh and pushes out new limbs, hardening areas of weakness. Burning tendrils of dark light spray from its splitting flesh, cracking like whips against the ground.
Self-Sustenance=
Cunning and methodical, he has quietly watched entire civilizations rise, stagnate and decay, spent centuries combing the ocean floor for its secrets.
Magic Sensing
Their sudden appearance shifts my vision and I see the radiant threads of magic in his blood as it flows around his body. Wisps of it lift into the air with every panicked breath and every tear that rolls down his cheeks. It's faint, almost nothing, but the Void predators will sense it, and be drawn like sand-flies to dung.
These would apply to all Voidborn
Adaptation/Reactive Evolution
Cho'Gath's complex biology quickly converts matter into new bodily growth—increasing its muscle mass and density, or hardening its outer carapace like organic diamond.
It hisses, a noise I cannot tell is of pain or pleasure, as a pair of new limbs erupt and unfurl into hideous, dripping wings. It has seen the threat I pose, and so it changes.
The Void grows, and the Void adapts—in none of its myriad spawn are these truths more apparent than Kha'Zix. Evolution drives the core of this mutating horror, born to survive and to slay the strong. Where it struggles to do so, it grows new, more effective ways to counter and kill its prey.
A vicious Void predator, Kha'Zix infiltrated Valoran to devour the land's most promising creatures. With each kill he absorbs his prey's strength, evolving to grow more powerful.
The beast blew apart from the inside, gobbets of newly-wrought flesh disintegrating before the moonblade's power. She landed and swayed aside from the last beast's attack. Not fast enough. Razored talons punched through the steel of her pauldrons and dragged her around. The beast's chest split apart, revealing a glutinous mass of sense organs and hooked teeth.
The beast had tasted her blood and hissed with predatory hunger. Its armored form was now entirely gloss black and venomous purple. Bladed arms unfolded and remade themselves in a fan of hooks and talons.
Arms that would be impossible in nature hook over the edge of the abyss, dragging a monstrous horror of rasping armor plates, bony protrusions, and flesh the color of something stillborn. It's still wet and glistening from its arrival into this world, but it has infinite malice in the black eyes that ripple to life on its upper carapace. Blade limbs unfold from its pallid belly, and a lipless mouth tears open across its throat, a wide gash of gleaming white fangs and drooling ichor.
Webs of light and twitching matter knit its flesh together, like a weaver sewing a torn blanket. Its huge bulk convulses, rippling as it reforms wounded flesh and pushes out new limbs, hardening areas of weakness. Burning tendrils of dark light spray from its splitting flesh, cracking like whips against the ground.
Reality Warping
The air and light writhe around it. They do not want to touch it either.
Their very presence distorts the air, and slivers of dissolving matter rise like black smoke from the rock beneath their claws.
Regenerationn
They fought from sunset to sunrise. Finally, near death, they reluctantly separated. As his wounds closed, Kha'Zix burned with anticipation at the idea of devouring one who could match the Void's strength.
Unnatural flesh flowed like wax to seal the awful wound her blade had ripped.
Its body tears open and tar-black ichor spills out. It screeches in pain, lashing out with its impossibly angled limbs...I flip backward as its body crashes down, but it's not dead...whatever that means to the Voidborn. It draws the blood of the smaller creatures up into its limbs, drinking their very essence. Webs of light and twitching matter knit its flesh together, like a weaver sewing a torn blanket. Its huge bulk convulses, rippling as it reforms wounded flesh and pushes out new limbs, hardening areas of weakness. Burning tendrils of dark light spray from its splitting flesh, cracking like whips against the ground.
Self-Sustenance=
Cunning and methodical, he has quietly watched entire civilizations rise, stagnate and decay, spent centuries combing the ocean floor for its secrets.
Magic Sensing
Their sudden appearance shifts my vision and I see the radiant threads of magic in his blood as it flows around his body. Wisps of it lift into the air with every panicked breath and every tear that rolls down his cheeks. It's faint, almost nothing, but the Void predators will sense it, and be drawn like sand-flies to dung.
These would apply to all Voidborn
