When Disciples Coalesce

[Zarsies 6795]

Uldrivt gives a nod to each attendee as they arrive, giving a silent wag of his finger at each newcomer whilst they greet one another and mingle. After a headcount he inclines his head towards the unsettling elder and tentacled horror, smoothly saying in a hushed voice to them, "I'll start us off."

 

[[At this point I am going to restrict any more greetings and wellwishes, assuming anyone who is coming has already arrived. If you wanted to attend and just never replied, you may assume your character is present and seated at this point. Engage yourself in conversation as you wish.]]

 

 

The architect of the conglomerate stands tall over those who've found themselves into the chamber, be it within a place among the many chairs or lingering at the room's fringes, and elevates a sharp, weapon-like gavel at his side. He brings its angular head down upon a steel plate, dealing a harsh rasp throughout the entire hall with a flurry of his robes. The Dark Elf stands in wordlessness for a time as those present quieted themself -- although they're not a very noisy bunch to begin with -- and he clears his throat. "I now initiate this colloquy, calling to order the first convergence of the Covenant of Xion." He outstretched his arm to his left, motioning to the other two still standing. "I stand as your host among three; I am Uldrivt, and as you know this is Achan-Chatla and Lord Nimdravur. Please be seated, dearest guests." Those of the room rest while Uldrivt remains erected, continuing his speech. "We are gathered here today...", he begins, "to witness the beautiful union." He makes for a second pause, eyeing those present to gauge their entertainment of his marital introduction. "Of practitioners of the sacred art and the creed of Xion. Past allies and friends, we ask of you your service under the banner of Xion, under the movement of Mortality."

 

Uldrivt scans the hall and its inhabitants, calling out, "For those unaware of the Covenant of Xion, it is a bastion of Mortality. The truths of godlessness, the truths of an unshackled and knowledgeable mortal. The divines and their ilk, Aenguls and Daemons, rape and molest the mortal way and corrupt it to fulfill their agendas and personal goals. They rule us like tyrants, sewing death and destruction, and so Xion shall wrest control of the world we rightfully own and usurp the gods."

 

He comes to a still quiet. He glances towards Nimdravur before his voice reverberates throughout the Hold once more, saying in a warm and pleasant voice, "We ask you to rally to the call, to inhabit this Hold and join the ranks of the that which will free our world from invasive bonds. There is indeed much to be said upon the matter, for my briefing on Xion was a tad summary-like with many intricacies abandoned for the sake of  convenience; nonetheless, what say you? I'm sure you have questions, so let them fly. We shall address them until all are satisfied."

 

Having no more to speak of, Uldrivt gestures out to the dark regions of the chamber, repeating himself in a lovely tone, "What say you?"

[Mephistophelian 977]

"I ask only this... Why are there immortals in this covenant of mortality? Is it not hypocritical, in a sense? Whilst I agree with some, if not most, of what is mentioned, I do not understand the 'mortality' part. On that note... Perhaps our host could enlighten us on what the goals of 'Xionism' are, and how they are expected to be achieved."

 

Haskaal, done with speaking, would sit back rigidly against its seat, both arms relaxing against the stone.

[Zarsies 6795]

Uldrivt calls back to Haskaal in a clear, although slightly fiery voice. He says with might, "The gods are not of life, nor are they of death. They lack any comprehensible form and are without life force. It is we, all of the living and all of the dead, who experience and are fabricated by life force. We are Mortality, those from life, death, and between. We all share the breath of the Creator, no matter our status. Those among us are indeed without life and death, however as amorphous they are, they are still constructs of the same substance.  In this, they are revered as those who've transcended the grasps of either state and embody Mortality as life force incarnate. They epitomize what Xion is."

 

The Dark Elf cracks his neck for a moment before declaring aloud, "Mortality is defined as the grouping of any being which relies of life force. It includes much, from ourselves to the any Descendant, and even to the likes of ents or dreadknights. That which is alive, undead, or even deceased." He glances towards those obviously landed amid the spectrum of undeath within the chamber in an expanse of momentary silence. "Xion," he starts in a soothing tone, "is the movement of Lord Nimdravur's and his master, Dhurzûmkal's ideals. It is the idea of achieving vengeance against the divine. The Aenguls and Daemons have sinned against Mortality numerous times and have stolen both our lives and our freedom. They indoctrinate the minds of Mortality into cults of their following, demanding worship to empower themselves to impose agendas against mortals, directly or indirectly. Thus we, Mortality, may usurp them from the seats of lies they've built upon our own throne, where we are no longer the masters of ourselves and instead they are. The implementation of this is lies in spreading the truth. The word of Xion must spread, be it through written propaganda or a theme to a conversation with a friend. By inflating the ranks of Xion, we erode the power of the divines and resist them." Uldrivt purses his lips momentarily, gesturing towards the decrepit elder beside him. "Lord Nimdravur is better abreast with Xionism than myself, as even I am one who has not fully discovered its enlightening veracity. Might you preach, dear Lord?"

[Zarsies 6795]

[[Sorry for the wait on a response, I had some delays.]]

 

The metal bound Dark Elf leaned in towards the decrepit Wizard Dmitri beside him, his feathered mask tilting aside in order for the elder to whisper to the man. A long, drawn out pause melted over the congregation while the two quietly converse, albeit Uldrivt the one mostly listening to Nimdravur's camouflaged words. After some time the host came back to a usual stand, leaving Dmitri's discourse. Uldrivt's stare and in turn the stare of his mildly avian visor ran over those present before Uldrivt spoke, saying in his usual relaxed timbre.

 

"In blunt terminology, Xion's goals stand to be, I quote, 'fashion a following of  Dhurzumkal's ways and enlighten others of Mortality's glories.' We must establish zealous ideals of antitheism and antideificism, oppose the reigning deities and eject them so Mortality may rule despite the dependency that has developed, and hold that mortal magics are the true path of ascension and not the otherworldly. Exalting Mortality is our cause. The applications of this rely on mostly social and political manipulation, which doesn't sound all too kind but is for the greater good. Conversion of high ranking officials is advised, and in turn the fabrication of antideity laws and anthitheistic mannerisms. The initial steps are to outlaw god worship, to banish their likeness and any support of their kind. Have families praise one another and not a godly figure; make children resent the idea of gods. Outlaw their practices. Outlaw their allies. Restrict the ground they stand upon and bury them beneath it. Ultimately, we wish to eradicate the influence of the gods -- not in the name of blood -- but in Mortality. Violence shall not be had in the name of Xion." Uldrivt pauses for a moment, giving some suggested meaning otherwise unexpressed, and ends, "Does that satisfy your question, dear listener?"

[Mephistophelian 977]

"Satisfied indeed."

Haskaal turns to the others present, the shape within its cowl looking for any that wish to bring for a question.

[Drak3 442]

The figure of an individual sits in one of the many seats adorned at the large table.

Listening on without a word spoken, Stella's left eye would give a few subtle twitches

while observing at all who have been summoned. Ears perked only by a hair under

the hood as the conversation carries on.  She would lean back into the seat

further, allowing both shoulders to slump against the backrest. 

[GDPR 014 48]

     A figure adorned in many clothing sits in the back, the shrouded visage watching so intently upon the exchanges. A flicker of purple light escapes from the shadowy depths, glancing over to The Ghoul Lord and his necrotic mechanizations; shivering in disgust. The three massive, horned figures which stood around the Wanderer drifted their hood and cloth clad heads, with pulsating eyes of blue colors dragging along the others. The figure's leg crosses over his lap, fingers interlocking over a staff as he leans back into the comfort of his chair. 

 

"Already I fear of a problem," A distant voice escapes the Wanderer's hood, "Will these Xionites end up like the Adherency?" The purple glow spins and turns to all the attendants. 

Edited October 18, 2015 by ArcanicFable

[Zarsies 6795]

Uldrivt replies with a cordial smile, "Any sign of heresy shall be expunged. There will be no tolerance for... shenanigans. Although understand that there will indeed be those within Xion who have no magic and fellow mortals of other crafts. A magical inclination isn't a requirement"

[GDPR 014 48]

"T'was the same thing the Adherancy said - though I will believe you, out of sheer trust, Father of Sprat."

[Zarsies 6795]

After giving a fierce deathstare from beneath his angular mask, the standing Uldrivt gave the man a hearty and short laugh. "Thank you, listener." The Dark Elf turned somewhat, opening his arms to the rest of the gathering. "What say you? Be there any more comments or concerns? Now is your time to ask."

[Rig 17581]

Gareth Hawthorne continues to quietly watch, his masked gaze falling onto each and every member before he speaks.

"It is the practices of Xion that shall keep us from ending up such as the Adherency. The Adherency struggled due to its lack of leadership or able members and participants. Many were so insufferable that I killed them with my own hands. 

"We must evolve, and grow past being considered a cult no better than the Tahariaens. Should we gain a following, we need not worry- the world will answer to us." 

Edited October 18, 2015 by Rigorous

[Parkins 550]

Aldremeich would remove his helm, slowly, tired and bony hands setting it upon the table in front of him as he sighs, running his lithe fingers to trace along his pale chin, skin taut along the skull. He would cast a glance about the room with his emerald gaze, before raising his hoarse voice to speak once more, sounding as though he had forgone a drink for some time.

 

"The Adherency was foolish.. foolish choices I agreed to in my younger years, a time I am not proud of.. Though now here we sit, more successful than said time, though as individuals. I see Xion as a way to.. reconnect." He lifts his bony hands upward, outstretching his fingers into a duo of fan shapes, motioning them for all to see. "Individually we are strong. Some are skilled in combat, others can forge armies like few others. Some are knowledgeable in many arts, while some still hold the powers of persuasion which is ever so important.. Within this room, I see a culmination of some of the strongest in Vailor..  Individually we thrive-" He slowly presses the hands together, fingers interlocking tightly. "-but together we conquer. It is a simple matter of finding a common ground, and sticking to it as sap to a tree."

 

He slowly lowers his hands then, resting them upon the armrests of the chair as he glances to his ghouls, then gauging the reactions of the room. "I already hold an army.. and hold the power to create more.. I do little else these days. All I require, are the bodies to continue." He finally finishes, leaning forward now as he holds onto the armrests tightly.

[Rig 17581]

Aldremeich would remove his helm, slowly, tired and bony hands setting it upon the table in front of him as he sighs, running his lithe fingers to trace along his pale chin, skin taut along the skull. He would cast a glance about the room with his emerald gaze, before raising his hoarse voice to speak once more, sounding as though he had forgone a drink for some time.

 

"The Adherency was foolish.. foolish choices I agreed to in my younger years, a time I am not proud of.. Though now here we sit, more successful than said time, though as individuals. I see Xion as a way to.. reconnect." He lifts his bony hands upward, outstretching his fingers into a duo of fan shapes, motioning them for all to see. "Individually we are strong. Some are skilled in combat, others can forge armies like few others. Some are knowledgeable in many arts, while some still hold the powers of persuasion which is ever so important.. Within this room, I see a culmination of some of the strongest in Vailor..  Individually we thrive-" He slowly presses the hands together, fingers interlocking tightly. "-but together we conquer. It is a simple matter of finding a common ground, and sticking to it as sap to a tree."

 

He slowly lowers his hands then, resting them upon the armrests of the chair as he glances to his ghouls, then gauging the reactions of the room. "I already hold an army.. and hold the power to create more.. I do little else these days. All I require, are the bodies to continue." He finally finishes, leaning forward now as he holds onto the armrests tightly.

"Your savages hold no skill in fighting aside from their predatory growling, but they could be useful to divert attention away from our real goals." Gareth states, moving his hands behind his back. "Regardless, united we stand, or separately we fall. Fear the old dark."

[Parkins 550]

Nicholas would merely give a glance toward Gareth, a neutral, yet tired expression plastered across his features. "They feel little pain, and can overpower many soldiers. They are useful cannon fodder, for use in front of actual persons. They can serve as menservants, or material gatherers as well. They are eternally useful in my own experience."

[Malaise 1570]

A veiled, decrepit being stalks deep into the clandestine moot. Tufts of thin, wiry hair drape over what emaciated, ashen flesh may be revealed beneath the mottled attire that veils him. 

He waits in patient, attentive silence.