Absolom drew up sharply, the flood of Legionnaires parting and reforming around him. His mask billowed forth from where he had stashed it in his pack, the souls within giving access some of it's more utilitarian abilities. The diaphanous tendrils quickly resolved themselves into the metal of his half-mask, opaque shard of glass slotting into place over his eyes.<br/><br/>As the vanguard charged the spellweaver began to hum, his rough voice resonating through the very bones of the Legion. Mist poured forth from his mask, sheathing first his face, then his shoulders and arms. The billowing clouds curled and churned in his hands, twisting and intermingling like an agitated nest of serpents. As Absolom's voice rose in utterance of hymns to gods long dead the vanguard began to blur. The longer one gazed at them the harder it was to pin down where they strode. Their every step seemed to take them in utterly random directions; back three steps then forward six then diagonally twelve. A faint patina of misty distortion further spread along the front line, burying the charging men in a cloak of fog. The humans would be able to see through it as if looking through a tinted glass, but the Deep Ones would see naught but indistinct shadows. Further, every being within the veil would feel an insistent urge to strike any movement it did not recognize as a friend.<br/><br/>Absolom chuckled, executing a slight, shuffling jig with his cane.<br/><br/>"You remind me of a<span style="font-style: italic">man</span>~<br/>What man?<br/>The man with the<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="text-decoration: underline">power</span></span>~<br/>What power?<br/>Oh, the power of<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Voodoo~</span></span></span>~"