[NzothofVoid]

In the dark, under the veils of shadows they gathered.

Assembled in circle to make pact in the name of one lost, the miserable absence of a brother hung over their heads and stained their hearts black.

Servants of Mori, foulest aspects of a shackled divine reflected within their being.

Through wretched tongue, they screamed and made manifest their hate.

Through shed blood they vowed their vengeance. 

Through madness they split open their minds and sealed their oath.

Fleeting whispers emboldened through foul rite, hijacking the midnight winds to spread out their vow into the world.

Vengeance will be ours.

The conflicting madness of the whispers coalesce into a pure enlightening insanity, His Voice bringing the devout into new purpose to act towards.

The Drowning Hour comes.

Ripples in the tainted water swell steadily into crashing waves, whispers of the Deep rising into a deafening scream that will encapsulate the silence of the Void.