An ominous, hunched figure clad in tattered black robes that seem to drink in surrounding light. Bony, claw- like hands grip an ancient, twisted staff made of blackened wood and bone fetishes. This gnarled staff seems to almost pulse with malevolent energies. Derik's face is deeply lined and skull- like, skin stretched taut over his hollow cheeks and eye sockets that smolder with twin points of sickly green flame. His lips are curled back in a rictus grin to reveal sharpened fangs. Wispy strands of white hair cling to his sunken scalp like spiders' webbing. He stands hunched over a blasphemous ritual circle scribed in ashes, bones and dried blood on the ground before him. Within the circle writhes an ever- shifting mass of skeletal hands and desiccated body parts- the grudging remains being summoned from untold graves to do his foul bidding. The air around Kemmler is choked with an almost palpable aura of creeping entropy and elemental decay. Mold, rot and flickering wormlight effects seem to cling and radiate out from his very presence. Behind him looms a cyclopean construction of bone pillars and fleshless titans posed in ritualistic horror. In this form, Kemmler is the unbound incarnation of death's corruption