He saw the arrow coming.<i>Oh, this will never do</i>, he thought as he dropped below it.  The concussion forced him to roll off to the side a little bit, and was very annoying.  However, in the ringing echo of the blast, nobody noticed his dull, droning, growling chant.  He'd hoped he wouldn't have to use this emergency gimmick, because it was a pain in the ass and had risks of its own, but it seemed like it was going to be necessary.  He couldn't dodge fireballs all night, and he didn't want the house to collapse on them before his work was done.<br/><br/>He slowly got up, still chanting without pause, employing the circular breathing technique the Tibetan monks used when they employed this particular enchantment.  He couldn't move quickly, nor could he attack, while he kept up the chanting, but she would find her magic effectively disrupted, all such effects "grounded out" by the mystic blessing the chant invoked.  The biggest difficulty being, the "peace of the Buddha" was not so effective in dealing with demons.  Still, he moved toward her, head bowed and hands clasped in a prayer position, with the Bowie knife in between them (its sigils no longer glowing), but his eyes as they looked out the tops of his eyes still as glittering with malice as ever.