A massive tentacle-like appendage extends into the realm. It's skin is black and hard, and yet seems oddly flexible. A single plate which molds and changes it's shape, massive pores opening in it seeming at random to reveal a large structure within it. From these pores drop the strange pods, but these are different. They look like seeds, a complete black shell, with a group of clawed limbs at the top, the long, spiked fingers grabbing the bottom edge of the pod. As they land, the seed seems to attach itself to the ground, the spiked limbs latching onto the ground. The seed opens up sideways, like a flower, long leaf-like shapes turning into a flower on the floor, even as large clouds of micro-organisms are released. Even in this environment, with no air to speak of, they seem to move around, and the life force shared among them instantly disturbs the balance in this world that was meant for the dead.

These microorganisms are burned and torn apart, and yet the energy seems to hardly bother them. Immense pressure and heat seem to merely bother them, nearly indestructible as they float among the colliding energies. The tentacle itself, high above, is far outside the sphere's influence, more pods being spread around the realm, it's inhabitants, all of whom have already died, completely unaffected by these creatures. It seems, for the moment, at least, as if this creature has no way of harming the souls of the fallen, meant only to destroy the living. However, even as life spreads through it, the organisms begin to organize strangely. Even visible to the human eye, some begin reflecting light, as patterns seemed to form in the sky. Manifesting, and channeled through the cooperation of these massive floods of beings, individually far too small to be seen by the human eye. Massive symbols of power, as magic circles of untold size appear on the ground and the sky. Symbols and runes, both known and unknown, from styles of magic all around the multiverse, as the entirety of the realm of the dead becomes one massive spell channeling device. Even the weakest of mages, handed such great equipment, could perform great feats.

However, the one thing that was missing was the spark of magic to activate the symbols. Threatening as the symbols are, they do nothing unless a magically skilled individual were to use them. And then, a man walks in through a portal, cloaked in magical power. He wears a pare of pointed black shades over a pale face. He seemed to drink in the aura of death. Each hand was pale and white, tipped with delicate claws, wrapped in bandages covered in runes. His lips were black, and he wore a medallion bearing the semblance of a pair of wings on a skull, a ruby in the skull's mouth. His trench coat reaches the ground, and seems almost to sink into it, strangely moving as if it had a life of it's own. The man smiles, revealing pointed teeth, and as he speaks two voices can be heard, strangely overlapping. "This world is a part of the division between life and death, a curse upon the name of the eternal creator and preserver of a broken balance. Those who dwell within it are torn into the chains of death, not granted eternal life, within which is encompassed an infinite existence. What foolishness."