Ylsh'Ryx, or Deceitful Thought once translated from the Hive's language, a Hive on the verge of ascending, was having a confusing day. See, not too long ago he was just one of many Wizards operating out of the Hellmouth, when quite suddenly a command stabbed itself into his brain, ordering him to cease attacking those damnable Light-Bearers on pain of death. Some of the duller Hive, the Thralls and weaker Acolytes simply stopped where they were stood and were promptly massacred by the Light-Bearers. Meanwhile, the sharper members, and some of the duller ones who figured to copy their betters, bade a hasty retreat.

Now, one might wonder, would not the Worm within Ylsh force him to fight?

Under normal circumstances, the answer would be no, since self-preservation is, in fact, an aspect of the Sword-Logic, but these are not normal circumstances. The answer is still no, however. Whatever issued that order was greater than Crota. Greater than Oryx. And when something that eclipses your god tells you to do something, you do it, even if the order is totally nonsensical.

Besides, it said nothing of killing those insects, the Fallen. Or Eliksni, whatever they're called. Ylsh does not care very much for them, beyond that one Dreg he saw skulking the halls of the Hellmouth. Spooking the pathetic creature made for a good laugh. Ylsh briefly wonders if it's still alive, before discarding the thought. He has more important things to attend to. Namely, to discuss what the hell the Hive on the moon is meant to do next, besides slaughtering more Fallen. That's something of a given, seeing as they die if they don't feed their Worm enough, and murder is a simple way to feed the thing. Ylsh sighed as he floated through the winding halls. Things would be so much simpler if he wasn't permanently on a timer.

Alas, now was not the time for moping. Now was the time for proving. Ylsh took a turn into a room, which held an assortment of Hive on his level. He took a moment to sharpen his thoughts, and mentally assured his Worm that it would feast despite the sudden change in plans. After all, the Sword-Logic cares not how you prove yourself superior, and a court is a battleground just as brutal as a warzone. Ylsh'Ryx smiled a wide and wicked smile. He always did favor talking.

"Look who finally arrived!" Said a Knight, who was laughing uproariously. Xyn, The Axe Bearer, called that for having an axe rather than a sword. Weirdo. "We may finally start this meeting between those on the very edge of godhood! Any reason for your lateness, Ylsh?"

"I was simply far from this locale." That was only partially a lie. The other reason he was late was because of the splitting headache that resulted from the command that caused this meeting. "Might we get on with this meeting of almost-divines and nearly-gods?"

There was a general sense of agreement throughout the room, and nobody had any reason to slow down this impromptu court any more than it already was.

"Yes, let us begin!" Xyn said, manifesting a chair for herself to sit on. "We must start with the most important of news, straight from the Dreadnaught, straight the King's own court!" Now that was interesting, Ylsh thought. It seems Xyn was more than just some weirdo with an axe rather than a cleaver. She was a well-connected weirdo with an axe rather than a cleaver. "The King is dead."

Silence. How else were they meant to respond? Somebody just told them their god is dead. All eyes turned to Ylsh, for they knew his Sword-Logic focused on the social arena. Focusing his mind and magic, Ylsh focused his Killing-Logic to cut away at any lies in that statement. Nothing. Well, he could catch her on the technicality that whoever killed the King would doubtlessly be the new King, thusly the King is alive, but that currently serves no purpose.

"She's telling the truth. Oryx is dead. The Taken King, First Navigator, Prophet of the Deep, Worm-slayer, and many, many other titles, is dead." Silence, again. Ylsh cast his gaze across the room and continued. "But, my fellow godlings, this spells opportunity for us." Silence, again, for a third time now, but beckoning this time. "There is doubtlessly a new King, and whoever killed Oryx equally without doubt cut a bloody swathe through his court. In other words, empty thrones and empty mantles, waiting for someone to claim them. Those someones could be us." There was a general hum of agreement, and Ylsh could feel his Sword-Logic swell with might at his success. He could also feel Xyn's eyes staring at the back of his head. It is most probable that this is the conclusion she wanted them to come to, and Ylsh is fine with that. She may feed on his success too.

"Ah, but we cannot be the only ones to think of this." Said another knight, who had no sword, just a very impressive looking shield, with a wicked edge. Zivaran, Bulwark of Tumultuous Seas. Also a weirdo. "None of us are ascendant. We would be at a grand disadvantage against any other aspirants. Be it the remaining ascended of the Blood of Oryx who will try, the ascended from the Will of Savathûn who will try, Xivu Arath's Rage and it's ascended who will try, Crota's Spawn who will try, and countless others who will try." He looked around the room. "There are five of us here, each sectless. We are not ascended, and we have no backing."

Xyn spoke up. "What have we to lose? State one thing we may lose beside our lives!" No answer. "What do we stand to gain?"

An odd cross between Knight and Wizard spoke up. "Everything." This was Niact, The Spell Blade. "Godhood. Power. Prestige. Everything we could hope for, and only our lives on the line."

Another spoke up, something that looked a lot like an Ogre, but smaller, closer to the profile of a Knight, yet still much larger. Uragrag, The Clever Giant. "Only our lives, yes." It chuckled deeply. "Something to be spent cheaply, in your eyes?"

Niact shrugged. "I did not get where I am by being cautious or heeding warnings. I would assume an Ogre who broke free from their innate idiocy would know the value of taking risks."

Uragrag snorted in amusement. "I will not be baited so easily by someone who couldn't make up their mind and called the result a choice."

Niact's eyes twitched. However, before he could retort, Ylsh interrupted.

"There's no need to be so uncivil, my friends." He said. "Besides, we have no choice but to do this." Uragrag and Zivaran stared at him in askance. "We cannot fight the Light-Bearers. The Fallen will eventually retreat from the moon, and the only arena left to us would be the social one, lest we abandon the moon." Uragrag scratched his chin, seeing his point. Zivalan was yet unconvinced. "And is that how you want to die? Damned by the orders of a foolish and naïve King?" All shook their heads. "I thought not. Our only true option is to make our way to the Dreadnaught, and make our bid for ascension." He turned to Xyn. "And I believe one of us has a plan already."

Xyn smiled. "I am glad you asked, Ylsh! Now then…"