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[Deacon Drake]

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The letter slipped from the slightly withered hand of the giant lying on the pile of cushions and pillows on the bottom floor of the Ebon Gathering. The figure could barely move, yet he struggled to inch his way toward the table. Picking up a quill and dipping it in ink, he wrote his reply on a small scrap of parchment... brief, to the point.

I am intrigued by your views, brother. I wish to discuss them some time. I feel we have very similar beliefs and that it would be to our advantage to see exactly how similar we are.

*signed flamboyantly*
Steel Skye

He set the parchment face-up on the table and collapsed, falling backward, the weakness from his reckless emaciation gripping him once more.
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[img]http://askcorran.com/lonegamer/abomsig.PNG[/img]

[Vashera La Sabre]

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Many years had gone by as she watched from the stench of the corrupted forrest near Umbra. She had once been a willing slave but each time she had accomplished a goal the leadership changed and she lost her standing. She tired of starting over again so she chose to watch for a true leader to emerge from the smoldering ashes that was the Order.

Oblivion...her desire and her passion...

She would often visit and watch from afar the comings and goings sometimes slipping inside when there was noone about. Today felt different some how as she wandered through the empty buildings. She would often look through the books that had been left sitting on the tables here and there. Today there were several. She took a seat and flipped through the pages of one of them. Something caught her eye and she turned back to the first page and began reading in ernest.

Now here is a true leader...perhaps one has finally phoenixed from this place...

She slipped the book into the folds of her skirt and slipped out as quietly as she had come in.

Undetected, she walked to Umbra where she asked one of the Necromancers for a quill, ink and parchment. The ink looked to be the color of blood and she smirked at the Necromancer. He just nodded with a wicked grin. She gingerly dipped the tip of the quill into the thick red liquid and licked the tip of the quill and chuckled.

Perfect...

My Lord,

I would find it most interesting to discuss the future with you. Please contact me regarding the posibilities.

Your fellow servant in darkness,

Vashera La Sabre
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Life...death...oblivion

[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

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If she had ever been in favor to begin with, Ceinwyn knew it not. All she knew was that whatever her status had been, she had fallen from whatever tentative perch it had awarded her. She knew that currently, she was probably viewed no more favorable than Lord Church had been.

And for what?

For nothing.

This order that worships Oblivion currently is the perfect example of its own ideal. Entropy. How much longer until I am made out to be another Church, another Bailos...

The thought gave her pause. She could feel the impending conclusion of her welcome status among The Order. Oblivion only knew how much time she had left.

Stopping in at The Gathering to see if anyone was around, she noticed a couple of tables had letters left upon them.

What? Not another tournement...

Not another tournement. Glancing across the parchment for a name, she finally located Nathan's at the bottom. Nodding to herself, she re-read the paper.

This is what he spoke of outside The Gathering that day. Very interesting.

She placed the letter exactly as it had been on the table and departed the building. It would not do to be caught with such on her person. The water around her was hot enough, and it was all she could do with her magics to keep it tolerable.