Solomon Lancaster/Death's Door

From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe

Powerful as the Archmage was, even he could not stem the tide. The insectile servants of the death god Mot swarmed and surrounded him, their claws picking and striking at his flesh, wearing him down slowly but steadily.

Yet still he fought. With spell, fist and staff he fought. Bursts of magical energy lanced outward from his hands , the runes on his magestaff glowed hotly as it cleaved wide arcs trough their ranks, bashing the creatures and sending them flying.

The hordes closed in and overwhelmed him, dropping him to a knee. He closed his eyes and focused, channeling his will into his staff. With both hands, he raised the staff above his head and drove it into the ground. The magical force exploded outward, scattering the creatures like leaves on the wind.

The Archmage rose slowly, his face stoic and grim as he began speaking a cantrip. The archaic and guttural language came forth from his lips in a slow and deliberate rhythm. He brought his hand down and to his side, palm open and facing outward as the chant slowly began to rise in pace and fervor. Arcs of red electricity began to form around his hand, slowly swirling and congealing into a glowing ball at his palm, his fevered pitch barely audible among the thundering sound of the creatures’ charge.

Upon uttering the final syllable, the mage thrust his hand out. There was a bright flash and a clap of thunder as a massive bolt of lightning jumped from his open palm to the lead creature. The abomination simply ceased to be, and the bolt jumped from monster to monster, cooking and exploding them one by one, until the sea of horror was parted.

Into the empty space stepped something thirty feet tall and vaguely humanoid, its dark and chitinous exterior jagged and threatening. The giant creature reared back and let forth a bellowing roar enough to shake the very earth.

Without a word, the Archmage readied his staff and lept once more into battle.