Outside 46

[Hattish Thing]

Mysterious Meteorite

"The nations of the world hear my call, and their men are given over to my clutches. To some, I promise a future, to others power and glory, but to all, I bring only death. I control the soldier in life and in death. I am War." War doesn't seem impressed by the lich's pronouncements or his zombies.

Rather than immediately respond to the figure upon the horse, Malkeizathek turns back towards the crater-cesspool of radioactive waste, raising his skeletal, rune-carved arms up into the air once more. After a moment or two of intense chanting, the nauseating heap of undead flesh currently becoming rapidly digested by the small lake of filth within the crater begins to rise up into the air, dripping noxious gore as it becomes elevated. The parts begin to form vague shapes, assembling themselves into enormous fleshy, tumor-ridden mounds upon spindly, spider-like legs.

The plague-spewing globules are set down across the region as the lich continues his work, powerful legs digging into the moist, cursed soil the instant its heaping bulk meets the ground. Immediately, the repulsive mounds begin to leech life energy from the land itself, transforming it into necromantic filth which is then allowed to belch forth into the poisonous air or expulsed as seepage into the ground, polluting all that it comes into contact with. This process continues for some time, while all the while the borders of the irradiated wasteland continue to expand at an extraordinary rate.

Finally, once the last of the globules is formed out of the crater, the lich lowers himself down to the corrupted ground again. As he strides towards a particular area, his robes flutter and whirl, pulled taut from time to time as if the spellcaster was mounted upon dozens of legs desperately scuttling within the robe. With a blank expression upon his skeletal face, Malkeizathek wills into existence his starmetal spear, drawing a runic circle in the swampish soil. Once he's finished, the circle itself begins to radiate a wicked greenish energy, a clear sign that the ritual was nearing completion.

Solemnly, the lich tore a tooth free of his skull, ritualistically tossing it into the circle before tapping his staff against the ground.

--

Several seconds pass before the tooth itself appears to expand at an alarming rate, rapidly transforming into an enormous, fleshy spire crafted of four steaming pillars of stained tooth and muculent tumor, welded and joined together via thick strands of undulating sinew.

The lich gestures toward the entrance, a massive sphincter-like slab.