Rolled 4, 16, 16, 19, 3 = 58 (5d20)
>>5595434Your enemy is tenacious, though, and clever. As you prepare the spell, the incubus was not merely cowering, but preparing as well. You realize this only when it is too late. Upon holding out your hand in the cupped ‘crescent gesture’ by which you can project the <Moonbeam> spell, you expect to see you foe blast back, maybe blown apart; what you don’t expect is for the incubus’ avatar to explode outward into a network of veins, sinews, and bones, each carried by a carrion crow. They squawk and cackle in a dozen voices—some bird, some human—as they fly in every direction, dodging the beam of light and suddenly swarming upon you. You stagger back and shield yourself…
Or start to. You stop, and hold steady. To your grim pleasure, the divebombing crows—each a fragment of the incubus’ full power—are helpless to violate the sanctity of your aura. Once again, the swarm of avian terrors is forced to coalesce into a more solid, approachable form—this time, feather-speckled terrible-clawed, full of jutting bones and spines, with a horrid half-bird skull glowering eyelessly at you.
“That shield of faith cannot protect you from me forever,” the incubus boasts. “Even with all your stolen energy from that ghost you’ve trapped within you, you cannot hold at bay all those I have amassed… All that I have BECOME.”
You draw back the shoggoth-sword—now sized as your moonblade back at the northern forward base.
“I don’t need to,” you calmly reply, and shoot him a forced grin.
The incubus, incensed, attacks. The <Radiant Aura> blinds and blisters it, but the demon presses on, probe at the weak spots in your godly glory. IT approaches you at a run, and yet the repelling force makes it look as if it is in slow-motion, underwater, sluggishly wading through the pressure of your power.
You step forward, and swing your blade in a great cleave.
DC12/15/18 