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[Grignag]

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Izrem sat slowly and light in his chair as he looked over the books splayed on the table in front of him. He really wasn't in the mood for research, which was strange. He normally always was interested in his research. But now he wasn't in the mood. Izrem quietly considered his own nature and how contrary it was to what most would perceive it to mean. A drow and a follower of Oblivion. Were one to believe all the rumors, half-truths and, in some cases, verified facts about those two titles they'd be forced to conclude he was a smug, self-satisfied, rude and greedy racist who was out for the single purpose of annihilating reality in all its forms.

Not entirely unfair, considering the normal breeding of those two groups, but Izrem stood in stark contrast to such a description in most cases. Reserved, friendly, mild-mannered and a pacifist, as hard as it was for Izrem to believe it himself. Mayhaps he was just a poor fighter and therefore justified it as being particularly passive when it came to aggression? In any case, he actually took a fair level of enjoyment from being "social" amongst the massess of Sosoria and Malas. Therefore days like these chaffed at him. He wasn't surprised to hear the mistrust or barely suppressed anger in Willow's voice as she spoke to him. He was after all, a Drowish worshipper of Oblivion and therefore innately smug, self-satisfied, rude and greedy, along with the whole destroying reality thing. That much certainly could not be denied, as powerful as cold-hard speculation was.
He knew something like this would happen eventually, considering all that had gone on between their two "sides" in was hardly unexpected. But still... some part of him had hoped it would never come to be. Despite their beliefs on Oblivion, he rather liked the Guardians of Stonegate. He really did. Even now. But he understood that they did not feel the same way. By the company he kept, he was as evil as they were. Regardless of his own actions or his approachable personality.

Taking to the roof, Izrem washed his hands and donned a ceremonial robe before entering the inner chamber of the Entropy Field. The presence it was casting over Charnel Hill and even parts of Umbra were growing in intensity. With the full activation any who sought to drive them from their lands would pay dearly for every step they took. And for each step they lost, the Order would reap a great bounty. Blackrock or no.
Trimming off a piece of the centerpiece, a cyprus tree corrupted and decayed beyond reclaim, Izrem ground the ash the branch instantly became, between his fingers.
"I suppose I cannot be so indecisive on this anymore. If I am seen the same no matter what I do, perhaps it is best if I simply commit to the most extreme road."

Focusing for a moment, Izrem began to connect himself to the ethereal eddies that surrounded Charnel Hill. His lips parted without sound, but his unspoken words echoed for those of the Undead to hear.
"Brothers and Sisters. I have need of you. It is time for a Collection. Once this is complete I will at last have brought to fruition a project I conceived one hundred years ago. I need blood and you all will soon know whose I need."
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Femmies?! HOWAH!

Can't we all just get along? No? Excellent.