SolarPresence/Nephilpal

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Revision as of 11:42, 16 June 2004 by Moxiane (talk) (BPed Neph's solarbolt)
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Lifted from the Solar Forums on 8/19/03 from the thread "Solar Flare"

Wrathful Solar Flare

Cost: 1 mote per 1L damage\\

Duration: Instant \\ Type: Reflexive\\ Minimum Presence: 5 \\ Minimum Essence: 3 \\ Prerequisite Charms: Majestic Radiant Presence

With this Charm, a Solar may project a plume of incandescent golden fire from his anima to sear his enemies. The player rolls Dexterity + Presence to hit, inflicting 1L for every mote spent plus successes on the attack roll as normal. Characters may not cumulatively spend more motes powering all activations of this Charm in a single turn than their Stamina + Presence (Neph now suggests using Charisma + Presence), and may not strike the same target more than once in a turn. The maximum range of this attack is the Solar's (Essence x 10) yards.
Wrathful Solar Flare inflicts aggravated damage on demons, ghosts, the walking dead and other unclean creatures of darkness. Such beings disintegrate into fine ash if slain with this Charm, utterly obliterated by the onslaught of divine Essence. Deathlords, third circle demons, deathknights, Infernal Exalted and other greater creatures of darkness are less susceptible and only suffer the usual lethal damage.

Example:

Panther stood opposite the deathknight, his naked muscled chest heaving and glistening with sweat under the moonlight. Shattered skeletons lay in heaps around him where his fists and Charms had crushed them. Only his heavy breathing and the whispered moans from the Abyssal's blackened armor broke the paused silence of the battlefield. Her ambush had failed and now the Countess of Dust and Echoes had only her personal retinue of barghests at her command. She considered the Solar for a moment, a worthy if troublesome adversary. Part of her ached to test herself against this former gladiator, to throw aside her howling daiklaive and seize his throat in a mailed fist. But her orders were otherwise and did not permit such sport. A shame, really.

The Countess merely inclined her visored head in a gesture of faint regret and barked an order. Five spectral hounds lunged forward, their murderous, foam-flecked jaws impossibly agape with the hunger of Oblivion. Panther watched them come and flexed in anticipation, focusing his attention on the hound furthest from him. The others were of no consequence. Six yards. Essence burned in his blood. Four yards. Two. The pack leaped together and still Panther did not move.

The first muzzle yawned wide in triumph less than a foot from his warm flesh and swallowed only fire. The tongue of golden light transfixed the beast and pierced it, bursting the creature to ash. The rest of the pack perished in that same heartbeat, struck down and obliterated by the pitiless flames spilling from the Zenith's chest and Caste Mark. Only the last hound remained and Panther caught it by the neck mid-leap. He squeezed hard and the monster ceased to be. Only a cold stickiness on his palm and the windswept ashes remained of the deathknight's prized hunting hounds. The Countess smiled back under her helm and raised her sword in salute of Panther's prowess. Perhaps this night would bring more sport than she thought...