The Disciples of the Crying

Embrace the Dark, do not fear it. For the Dark brought our prophet and through tears he has shown us the way. Only through the withering touch of the Dark can we trim our excess fat and shape our true forms. And once Man is finally himself the whole world will cry with tears of Blood and Joy.

Though many mages consider them a school of magic the disciples do not see themselves as such. To them magic is but a tool like so many others in the shaping of the minds and bodies of the true believers. One on which they admittedly rely heavily but no more important than a carver’s knife or a week of fasting.

Born out of the last Dark the Disciples had the same start as any apocalyptic cult: they gathered around a charismatic and slightly mad leader preaching the end times, oddly enough as what appeared to be the end times were going on all around them. What separates the Disciples from other doomsday cults is that their leader, Azbeth was also a very powerful, very crazy mage. Gathering a coterie of equally crazy mages around him he won the hearts and minds of the Moon worshipping city of Kalal by protecting the city throughout the Dark and twilight. meanwhile, dressed in his Blue-Black robes he spent every day screaming increasingly mad ramblings from up high, ramblings diligently collected by his followers into not one but three books of ‘prophecy and wisdom’.

Towards the end of the Twilight and the end of his life he began to dabble in untested aspects of life magic through his own occult techniques, manipulating the flesh of the living into new and strange forms. An avenue of research long abandoned by other mages due to the damaging effects it had both on the subject’s body and mind this flesh warping was fully embraced by his followers who followed Azbeth’s mad teachings about being ‘made anew under the moon’ even after his death. His strange disappearance, without clothes or staff or anything else, in the very last year of Twilight marked him forever as a saint and a prophet.

The Church of the Cleansing Moon lives on to this day, sending missionaries to all corners of Tramath to speak their cant of resurrection in a different shape under the full moon. Their militant arm is called the Disciples of the Crying for it is the Crying that gives true power to the mages and, they believe, true holiness and wisdom. These flesh-warping life-mages look forward to the next Dark when they each believe they will be the true chosen one to carry the gift of prophecy. Dressed in their Blue-black robes the Moon (or as many call them Dark) Mages exercise their baleful art every night under the pale glow of the moon. Each night one of them becomes a little more inhuman and, often, a little more mad.

The Disciples of the Crying

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