#demaskedgrayface

There was a deep, ear-splitting scream, followed by a blast of energy that sent ripples traversing the borders between realities... not to mention leaving a large, smoldering crater in the ground where it had originated.  And in the center of that crater rested Charles, huddled around himself, a reflexive side-effect of almost losing his own form.  

But this Charles was different from the one that had previously existed.  He had the same basic shape, but his skin had become a "purer" shade of gray, his orange eyes glowed brighter than before, and wrapped around his form, in place of his former cloak, were a pair of wings.  Large, gray wings, similar in design to those one might expect to see on an angel.  

Slowly, Charles gathered himself and rose to his feet, unfurling his wings to reveal the shape of dozens of arms and heads, like poltergeists pressed up against a painting.  While most of the heads were featureless, only loosely identifiable by their general outline, a few manifested what would appear to be mouths.  Somewhat disturbingly, the humanoid figures would occasionally move, shifting the position of an arm here, or opening or closing a mouth there, but for the most part they seemed mostly dormant.  

Charles looked at himself.  He had succeeded in his ascension, although he acknowledged his form was probably a tad more unsettling than most other archmages he'd seen... perhaps a side-effect of his violent motivation for achieving this form.  

Charles then turned to look at his surrounding.  He'd arrived in the same primitive fantasy world he'd first been "born" in.  Perhaps he had a special bond with this place... not that it mattered for the moment.  He had a more important bond to attend to, and a newfound duty to fulfill.  

Charles could feel it, the collective bleeding into his mind and body.  He could also feel what was left of his rage bleeding into the collective in turn.  He struggled to focus, grappling both the rage and his self to keep the two processes under control.  But unlike in the past, it wasn't an attempt to block the collective off altogether.  No, he needed a portion to join with him.  

For the collective's part, the rage was largely rejected, but because it altered the collective's nature as it poured fourth, this was not a solid, uniform effort among its presence.  No, the responsibility fell primarily on Charles not to taint the collective around him.  Even after being "drained" by the Exploiter, it was still a very difficult task.