The [Undead Lord] raised one gauntleted hand into the air.
Almost immediately, the shadowy aura pulsing behind its body erupted like a storm.
From within that veil of darkness, a mass of bone-white shapes emerged, dozens at first, then hundreds.
Each one resembled a floating skull, their hollow sockets and gaping jaws spewing eerie blue fire, as if they were crying out in agony from whatever afterlife they'd been ripped out of.
The air grew colder. The pressure heavier.
The floating skulls hovered in place, surrounding their master like a swarm of obedient spirits waiting for his command.
Then, the [Undead Lord] slowly extended one arm forward, his armored hand rising until a single finger pointed toward the field of enemies ahead.
And in that instant.
Fwish! Fwish! Fwish!
The horde of fire-wreathed skulls surged forward like missiles.
It wasn't chaotic either, there was precision in their movements, a ruthless clarity.
