[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOmB8bZT6Ps[/youtube]

You have brought him in with you,
For he dwells within you waiting,
Both the first to come and the last.

Can you hear the music? The faint whispers of the desert wind? The tambour of the drums? Hear the taught skin rumble, hear it drone forever to the rhythms of eternity. The plucking of strings pulling at the soul, weaving the melody into the will of fate. And then the desert awakens, the sandswept skies rising the cloud to blot out the starlight night. The desert wind blows to the entrancing legato of the spindle. Become mesmerized, feel the music in your very chest. Each grain and note brushed across your skin to strip it to the bone, your blood runs dry, and your organs shift like the sand. Bursting, wanting, clawing itself out ask it seeks to be freed, unleashed upon the world. So listen, and you may hear the call of the desert.

From the skies they came. Bearing their music. The droning sounds of millions of wings vibrating at once, the chorus of the desert for this was their song. And though the dark storm clouds brooded and brewed, it was not their thundering rumbles which shook the air but those of the swarm. It was the swarm which veiled the stars, swallowing up the light as a darker darkness overtook the skies. A living darkness, a breathing blackness, a hungry void. What dared to stand before them? For the might of millions upon millions upon million and more would devour all who resisted the will of the world. For hunger ran the world in many ways, and those sated are deluded or empty, far too empty. And where there was once a forest and mists, food and drink, now stands nothing more than a cobblestone path to a rotting shack.

Could they, the others, hear it? The symphony of cacophony just outside their secret sanctum, roaring with the might of the living sandstorm? So many seated, so many called, but none so far collected. The Evil Eye had assembled quite the team, but what reason did they answer the summons? Why have they all come? Each a powerful lord or master in their own accord, why would they gather to kneel before something? Perhaps it was an intrigue which motivated them, to simply sate their curiosity and move on. Or perhaps it was ennui which plagues the immortals quite commonly, so much so that they would stoop so low. Or better yet, and perhaps most accurately, it was a hunger which compelled them all. A drive which kept the universe flowing towards the end, whatever end it may be, it is hunger which chases down the need. Or is there no end at all, for it may never end and all that is left is for the universe to consume itself. So to feast upon hunger, that is why He came.

Bursting into room, through the cracks in the walls, the door, the roof, and whatever space there was to assemble the myriad. Thousands of jaws making swift work of the chair until nothing was left of the last seat which marked the place of the which had yet to come, but had already came, and just came now. There it was, the writhing mass of insects, desert locusts which devoured the chair as their wriggling bodies climbed over each other again and again. Crawling upon their brethren and forming a wretched lump that began to resemble a chair. Then, the rest from rose, hopping forth and revealing themselves into an emerging mass that formed from the seat of the chair. Slowly an arm, made of skittering locusts, shaped itself from the mass, a head crafted itself next from the swarm. Another arm, legs, a humanoid body which sat upon the infesting throne.

"My old friend, what is it you desire?" The buzzing sounds made from the many, reverberated through the throne as this thing, whatever it was to those unfamiliar, and curious to those who knew better. It spoke to no one in particular, directed at none of the others as a few of its number fell and rose to crawl again upon its form. Of all those who attend only Zhystkrexas had not physically manifested himself, merely deciding to send an avatar, or in this case a vestige of himself to this dark meeting place. It was not out of fear, but rather of courtesy. For if indeed Kil'threx had wanted to gather an army for his cause, Zhystkrexas' presence, and what it caused, would not be needed. Only a scroll need be signed by all parties involved.

And once the pact was made, what force of good may stand before them?