It had been naught even an hour after the last of the dead congregation was cast into the Void before the first disciple appeared. A short sermon on the tenants was all it took for Hush to rekindle the passion of Lord Zeolix in the young woman’s heart. Indeed, he was feeling inspired at this peak of a new era. And hastily he scrawled a phamplet which would soon be delivered across the dark alleys and byways of Templehelm.

The Church of Whispers Seeks a New Congress.

Dear, denizen.

Art thou familiar with the dark? Do ye know the truth of this land? That it is not Planu, nor the Emeraldites, nay not even the Sired who rightfully rule the Great Plains, archipelagos, and islands of our beloved land. Surely it has been whispered in hushed tones that the Lord Zeolix holds dominion over this wretched war-torn place. Yet I assure you that it was not always so full of conflict, and my words were once not radical, but mere truth to be witnessed. It is an opportune moment in history which finds us this time, for all have surely heard of His return. There is trouble in the Emerald Steppes, and there is only one cure for the ailment. A total dismantling of false Empires. You live in a stolen land, one which belongs to us, the silent church. We have been watching, waiting for the return of our lord, and he has come. The Emeraldites are weak, and soon will be overshadowed with the burden of consequence. They have long sought to erase histories and replace them with honeyed tales, but the old ones still remember their youth, and the tales of freedom once lived by the ones torn from their lives. Indeed, for the church still knows the legacy of our land, one where expansion had not withered the old sun peaches, nor chased away the great stags into the obscurity of forgotten forests. But the flock had grown lazy, complacent with being tended by those who wish to harvest them. They will not last through the next season. The time is ripe to topple the Empire of Planu, and Lord Zeolix has need of the capable. 
If you be strong and willing, the Church of Whispers invites you to its congregation. Together, we will undo the wrongs of the invaders, and erase them as they have erased us and ours.

- Deacon Hush

A wayward specter with piercing pale grey eyes catches a glimpse of the pamphlet. They more or less skim over it, but believes they catch the most important bit: Zeolix is making a comeback. They think back to that random, austere knight or whatever that claimed Zeolix as a God of Man, an interpretation of scripture that was not really their style. They think this as if they ever read scripture in the first place. But this Deacon Hush guy?

"Hm. I agree vwith zhis guy." They continue on about their day, unconcerned as usual. There's all the time in the world for one who cannot die a second time, is there not? Besides, they heard that 'Tyr' guy died recently and needed to find his grave to dance on. Backpfeifengesicht really couldn't come back as a ghost. Prust.