Every cleric has the ability to directly manifest their deity. It can only be done once in their lifetimes, and the cost is enormous. The invaders are getting ready to raze the town. You're the last defense, though you worship the god of harvest and childbirth, not war. You begin the ritual.
"You know 'childbirth' doesn't just extend to humans in this case, right?" the cleric says.
"Yes, I know," you call back. "But I still don't know what you're plann-"
The air turns cold. The skies turn dark. The clouds seem unusually black, you note, before you see that they're moving closer to the ground. The invading soldiers watch, horrified, as the sound of whirring wings and rhythmic chirping grows deafening.
You feel your face go as pale as the enemy's. You turn towards the cleric, who only responds to your horrified gaze with a beatific smile.
"The locusts need food to produce their eggs," she says proudly.
