WMDF/LICH.
Lex didn't look back to the men following her. Her shoulders stiffened as Rictor called out to her, but the harsh retort she was about to afford him died on her lips. Stopping in her tracks, she watched with a quickly growing dread as the air in front of her began to ripple. Reality seemed to shift in front of them, and the veil of arcane magics concealing their true enemy was drawn back like a curtain.
They were, it seemed, closer to their destination than they believed.
The Lich was nothing like the puppets it had summoned. They were nothing but vermin in comparison, and any who could feel the power radiating from this monster could surely tell the difference. The Lich hovered in the air, its limbs twisted and malformed from centuries of corruption from the dark and vile magics it consumed, and even here and now did the evil power spread around it, lashing through the air with violent promise. Its face was something like a skull, once of human shape but now warped more to that of some fell horror from a man's nightmare. The robes were ancient, sullied, frayed at the edges, embroidered with symbols of a long dead age.
It raised its hands, beckoning the humes forward. Perhaps it sensed their magic, that which was surely anathema to its own. Or perhaps it had simply grown bored of watching the mortals struggle against its puppet army of undead. Whatever the reason this monster now showed its face, the danger was greatly apparent.
Lex didn't take her eyes from it. She nearly didn't move at all, but a hand reached out, the prayer beads dangling from around her wrist as she conjured Wall for the person nearest.
"Rictor," she said, the name escaping her lips on its own. Faram protect all of us.