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[Grignag]

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In the ever eerie silence of the Stygian Grove lay the bones of untold creatures that had ventured there only to die. Between the forest of twisted trees and seemingly endless blankets of dark mist the final proof of some unnamed individuals existence lay rotting on the corrupted earth. A particular skull, fractured and crumbling before the rising eminence of Charnel Hill was one such reminder. Whose it was and what they did in life no longer really mattered as their bones lay there bleached and forgotten. Yet everything had a purpose. This was the truth known well by the scions of the Ebon Skull and servants of Oblivion. And now, this skull served its one purpose of being a dramatic entrance as the fall of Izrem's sandled foot crushed it into cloud of shards and powder, sending it wafting into the air to settle over the Grove.

Izrem's violet hued and red-rimmed irises began to flush black as the murky darkness of his soul bled into his vision, staining the color of his eyes into the empty, black likeness of the Void that existed deep within him. Inhaling deeply he let his mind wander amongst the buildings of the Stygian Grove. He still felt them... the Entropy Field Generator was still active. The Well of Souls still whispered balefully in his ears, the tormented cries of those sacrified to its maw ever ringing deep below the libraries of the Scholomance. And yes, the Ebon Skull remained, burning with the the chilling flame that consumed the light and cackled the will of Oblivion to the faithful. It was all still there, just as Izrem had left it when he had departed.

His normally blank mind as he meditated in lieu of sleep had begun to draw up images of Umbra during his long absence. Thoughts of the great sacrificial tower atop of Charnel Hill and the malignant churning and bubbling of Kaelthir's labs wafted into his mind, reminding him of something forgotten. Izrem looked to the stars and read the patterns there. He listened closely to the murmurs in his fragmented and entropy-touched soul and knew it was time to return. And return he did, carrying with him the fruits of his dark research. A single tome covered in a strangely organic material was clutched in his left hand. From it dripped an endless stream of blood, staining the streets of Umbra and the Stygian Grove red with the life essence of some unknown source.

Irritating. He would have to deal with that later.

But as he stood before Charnel Hill, watching the remnents of the unknown skull settle across the towers and fortresses, his thoughts turned inwards. He remembered why he had returned now. It had been but a year ago that the faithful had reclaimed Umbra for the glory of Oblivion. A year ago that the seat of necromancy once again lay in the hands of its rightful masters. It was time to remember what the scions of the Order had been called to do. Why they had gathered here. Collecting together the mindless shades and wraiths that wandered the wilderness of Umbra, Izrem entrusted them with a message to spread to all that would listen. A convocation. A collection of the truly righteous servants of the eternal Void.

If only for a moment, the lands would remember the truth that every age has known and every age has attempted to reject in futility. Orders may rise and fall, but Entropy touches all and Oblivion claims its due. And through the Ebon Skull would the present order remind all of existence of that one, eternal truth.
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