Debouch v. 1: to cause to emerge: discharge, 2: to march out into open ground: emerge, issue
Lulu hopped through the rugged landscape, occasionally tapping a rock and giggling as it scurried away.
"Why are we up here, Topsy Turvy Hurdy Gurdy? Are we hunting snufflesnipes?"
Veigar stopped. He looked out over the desolate swath of mountain and clenched his gauntlet closed dramatically. "No, Lulu," he cried in his shrill, evil voice, "we are here for a FAR GRANDER PURPOSE!" He placed his boot on a boulder – well, the rock was only the size of a longlegs' head, but it still looked imposing – and pointed out over dark, jagged stone. "I am claiming this area as THE CENTER OF MY DOMAIN! To enter is to SUFFER!"
"Oooh," Lulu said appreciatively.
The pixie looked less impressed, but Veigar ignored the stupid thing.
Veigar crossed his arms – a difficult task given his the size of his gauntlets - and nodded, satisfied.
Lulu ignored his masterful villain pose, instead sniffing the air with closed eyes. "The colors here are so tasty!"
Of course she would see it. Veigar had no use for acquaintances who couldn't see that the place was a nexus of magical power.
"Now come! At the top of that ridge will be my FORTRESS OF EVIL! BWUEHEHEHEHEH!"
At first they tried to find a path up the ridge, but the length of their legs was proving an obstacle. Eventually Veigar decided that it was taking too long and blasted a channel in the mountainside. The rock twisted into melted claws around the edges, which pleased Veigar greatly. He had chosen his domain well. Which was no surprise; he was the Master of Evil after all.
The vast plateau at the top of the ridge was promising, but Veigar had come for what lay just above it. Only the highest peak in the Sablestone Mountains would be worthy of being the center of his realm.
He stomped the ground, planting his staff and answered The Magic's call. This place was the crossroads of laylines from the Voodoo Lands and all of the Yordle territories, and it flowed into him. He laughed at the raw power, shaping it in his staff and channeling it into the mountainside.
The mountain rumbled, smaller stones clattering down its side. The peak rose, bending and twisting in tortured shapes to Veigar's endless delight. He poured more magic into the contorting stone, pushing the molten rock into soaring towers. Even with his Magic saturated brain, Veigar knew he had to have at least six towers. That Ionian upstart's only had three. Ooh, he should have thirteen, for extra eeeeeeevil.
When he finally finished, Veigar released his hold on The Magic. Letting go of it always left him feeling drained, but this time it was mixed with satisfaction.
He surveyed his work.
The mundane mountain's peak had been transformed into a Spectacular Citadel of Suffering. At some point the sun had set, leaving his Tower of Torture's purple pulsing light the area's main source of illumination. The thirteen spires stabbed upward menacingly at the night sky. The entrance loomed, the skull-like pits staring intimidatingly at any who dared approach.
It was the most beautiful thing Veigar had ever seen. It would have brought a tear to his eye if he were not far too evil for shows of emotion.
He turned for Lulu's praise.
At some point she had fallen asleep. Iridescent bubbles floated away from her with each exhale.
Veigar prodded her with his staff. "AWAKEN, AND BEHOLD!"
Lulu rubbed her eyes and sneezed.
Purple sparkles erupted, shooting from her nose to cover his Palace of Pain with shiny dust. The entire thing suddenly looked as if it were made of candy.
Veigar gaped.
He was sure that washed off. For the sake of his insanity, he certainly hoped it did.