The horrid cacophony, causing the air to reverberate with its torturous keening, alongside the choking ozone-like miasma rising around the figure forces him to resist retching. His eyes are dazzled by the foul phosphorescent haze.
Blinded, deafened, nauseated and feeling his defences being stripped away he stumbles back. He snatches his pistol from it's holster and fires a shot toward the source of the mystical assailment. He waves his other hand across his eyes.
Some of the glare is dispelled. Glinting still is the artefact at the far end of the catacomb. Before that, however, a picture of malevolence is becoming corporeal. The bluish mist swirls and weaves about the forming body of the winged creature. The brilliance of it's form suck the light from the tomb. The once golden light of the artefact becomes sickly and nearly imperceptible.
Although the monster isn't quite whole, it's eyes lock onto the man. They flash with malice.
Gathering his senses, the man pushes back against the arcane assault. He takes aim. There is a fleeting second in which to make his move, while the demonic entity uses it's power in condensing itself.