Ilad, Lilah, Maire, Mantis, Ritter, Zaza
Since it's a weeknight, the faire folk almost out-number the tourists at the Shrewsbury Faire this evening. But there's a steady crowd, drawn out by the sun which still provides some warmth. Spring weather! Tents abound, offering food, more and less period, and crafts, also more and much, much less period. Plastic dragons, anyone? Pennants flap on poles and along the tents, but especially around a oval performance space that has been marked out with ropes, and bears the hoofprints of earlier shows.
Start looking through the tents, and there is also one that is unlabeled, but shows signs of running the show. It's tucked away behind the gate where money is being accepted, and there is technology within, walkies and computers and the like.
On the suited side of the team, Lilah lacks a large turkey leg in favor of trying to look the least bit professional instead of like a child dressed in her mother's clothes, an uncomfortable black blazer and slacks with sensible shoes. It is hard for her not to, her hair cut too short and showing the slightest bit of brown roots and her features soft, distracted by the lack of shields and the press of surrounding minds. Zaza's height likely doesn't help as she follows the other agent to their destination.
In that steady mingling crowd, Zaza peeks just above it even in flat shoes, dark grey slacks and a pale blouse and sharp jacket. Sorry she is overly tall Lilah. She tried. Unlike the faire-goers around her, it is the unlabeled tent that is their destination tonight. She draws up alongside it, hair pinned back in a dark twist that speaks of professionalism, looking for a face to match the woman that was contacted earlier in the day.
Because it is evening and his pair of sunglasses are no longer necessary, Ilad has nudged them up to rest in the midst of his dark hair like an improbable headband. Darkly suited in deep grey, his crisp white collared shirt is held closed with a tie in a muted blue shade, and he is carrying a small black notebook in hand. Otherwise, he looks solemn, bland -- well, actually, he looks a little croggled. The suit he is wearing doesn't help. Neither their surroundings nor his wardrobe his natural element, he carries himself with a barely unweaponized tension and notes the various objects available for sale and the general appearance of the people who come to these things for fun with similar levels of almost-veiled baffle.
The woman apparently in charge is ample, and dressed in a Scottish fashion, with blue beneath the red of her tartan, and a silver brooch at one shoulder. Her hair is all up in braids, but she finishes a conversation on a smartphone as she sweeps out of the tent. "Ah, the safety inspectors?" Whatever Zaza said before, it apparently metamorphosed into that. She eyes them, and gives Lilah a maternal smile, after raising her eyebrows at Ilad.
Lilah's smile in return is more awkward and more like a wince than the other woman's, disconcernation flashing in her expression at the naturally maternal smile. She's being a grown-up right now, lady. Nevertheless, she glances to Zaza as telepathy extends to brush over the woman's thoughts and explore the tent to see if anyone else is inside simultaneously.
"Yes. We are," Zaza says with a warm, but professional smile, extending her hand to the tartan-wearing, braided woman. That is a lot of look she has going on there. "Pleased to meet you. I'm --" She gives the name that she undoubtedly gave on the phone only lacking any flavor of agent, or otherwise attached this time around. As the other woman glances about the gathered agents, Zaza inclines her head following the woman's glances to her fellow agents, "Is there perhaps somewhere we might speak?"
Ilad's eyebrows do not answer in kind. He looks stoic, and if there is judgment to be read in his dark eyes, it is a very distant, cool sort of judgment. He stands there, quietly; in his suit and tie, with his reined tension, his stillness carries an implicit threat, although he does not wield it with especial deliberateness.
There are several people for Lilah to find inside the tent. One's a scared intern, another several are hip-deep in Arrangements, making certain food gets delivered, and the day's take is safely escorted to the bank. The woman in tartan is outwardly beaming, but inwardly grumbling at anything taking her away from the sixteen things she's keep track of. How often do the mudanes have to check the swords are all properly peace-bonded?? Ilad especially, though, makes her careful to be polite. He looks he'd try to shut down the faire if looked at cross-eyed. "Come this way," she offers, taking them back into a row of REI personal tents, to one large enough to have a porch area. There's still a view of the rest of the grounds proper between the craft tents, though.
"Tallulah Wright," Lilah provides awkwardly after Zaza has already asked further questions. She has time for a quick, amused glance towards Ilad before she starts digging at the scared intern, looking for a cause of the fear as she walks.
"Thank you." The bare necessities of decorum are offered in turn, before Zaza moves to follow the tartan clad and exceptionally smiley woman. She casts an inquisitive eye over the grounds and the personal tents' relationship to the greater faire, making a mental map as they go along.
Ilad clasps his notebook in his hands, just behind his back, as they walk, and attempts to look marginally less threatening, but with only very minor success. The tension still seems to radiate from the set of shoulder and spine.
The main, labeled tents are laid in neat rows, giving something for tourists to be funneled easily among. Personal tents are back and only along one side of the fair, all pitched every which way, where people found room or marked it out. "I can show you the peace-bonding tent," the woman offers to Zaza and Ilad specifically, helpful.
Back at the office tent, the intern worries obsessively over miscounting the day's take. And what if someone wants a refund? How does she key that in the register? Do people ask for refunds? Where's the guy that asked her to count the take anyway??
Finding the cause, Lilah looks only a bit longer around the intern's thoughts until they're out of range, what with moving to a side of the fair and all. Falling idle instead to watch the grownups talk, curiosity gets the better of her at Ilad's tension and she instead turns telepathy to explore it instead while still keeping track of the woman's mind.
"If that would be the best place, then please," Zaza replies agreeably, with an inclination of her head and another of those light smiles. Her accent is purposely tampered down enough to just add a soft lilt to her words.
Ilad is uncomfortable. He doesn't like the Faire. He broods over the celebration of centuries of injustice and persecution. Paired with the hyperalertness of duty and habit, he is gathering details on the weird people they view, stowing what he can in his memory, looking for what might or might not be out of place. Never relaxed on missions, he is not relaxed on this one. He also hates wearing suits and inwardly longs to accidentally light his tie on fire. He continues to play the silent type, answering the woman's helpful offer with the skeptical lift of his eyebrow.
The woman gestures, and leads them a little back the way they came, to a well-signed tent near the front. "Every weapon that's being carried has to be peace-bonded, except for the dull ones in the shows. And we have the equipment for the shows watched at all times." She chatters, a little, filling the silence. Lilah can catch no little dislike of suits from her too. Always with the /permits/ and the /laws/, and the people who didn't /understand/ faires... "What brought it to your attention that there might be a problem?" she finally comes out and asks.
"An anonymous tip off," Lilah offers up, quickly helpful like the rookie she is. Or portrays. Or both. She falls silent just as fast with a glance towards Zaza. Withdrawing from her exploration of Ilad's thoughts, she instead turns attention to noting the presence of those minds she can feel within her radius.
There are probably polite questions asked in regards to the peace-bonding of weapons, how it is done, the precautions and needs, have they ever had issues. Etc. It might help keep that silence from being entirely awkward. Zaza dips her head with an approving look towards Lilah, then turns her attention back to their tartan-clad guide. Nothing incorrect was said there. "One that corroborated with internal information of a rising issue, pointing us to your Faire. You can understand that with concerns for safety as it stands at a public event..." The tartan-woman can likely fill in all the blanks of what would likely happen if there was an issue at the faire, oh those pesky laws.
On arrival at the tent, the woman in tartan holds the flap back more, even though it's already tied open, inviting people in. She holds forth at /length/ about the safety precautions, etc, etc. She gives Ilad a dubious glance, then tries a new tack. "The evening show's about the start--the melee. Maybe you'd like to stay and watch, get a sense of how safe and choreographed our combat really is?"
Ilad makes a faintly dubious noise in his throat, although it's not clear whether he is doubtful that the combat is safe or just judgmental of safe combat.
No one is safe around Ilad. Lilah nods absently at the woman's offer, her attention focused instead on the process of peace-bonding with an avid curiosity that brings her forward to touch fingertips to an axe lying on a table.
After a courtesy's length of understanding nods, Zaza holds up a hand to accompany Ilad's dubious noise. "Thank you." There is no telling if that is agreement to the offer or a polite dismissal. "We are more interested in gaining access to your monitoring systems and open access to the Faire at large. I have no doubt that your people are doing their best to uphold safety precautions in the shows. However, my people need to move freely and I would like to have your cooperation to do so."
The woman in tartan shades her eyes, and frowns at the performance ring. "Guess they're starting early," she murmurs.
"Careful of the oil from your finger on the edge," a grizzled old dude tells Lilah, quite pleased enough to chatter about his favored weapons. But the woman in tartan is moving off for the ring, now. She laughs at Zaza's question. "Monitoring system? What do you mean?"
"You have no method of watching what is going on, and yet you are perfectly safe?" Ilad remarks mildly, accent a heavy weight of desert across his words.
"Oh, sorry," Lilah apologizes immediately, withdrawing her fingers as she glances around the array of weapons. "How are you sure that every weapon that comes in is peace-bonded?" The question is asked of the grizzled man, though her gaze goes back to Ilad and Zaza as they talk.
Glancing towards Ilad, Zaza manages to not let her lips tilt up in a smile and inclines her head towards the woman. Let's follow. "Let's just say access to the Faire at large. Do you not have men and women moving around to patrol it? What your emergency protocols are for an incident..." She does glance towards the performance ring now that they are moving in that direction, briefly casting a look back towards Lilah. A thought cast as well, << I am going to continue with her. Meet up after at the ring? >> Zaza's telepathic shorthand is terrible.
"We have people watching at the gate. When people come in, they get sent here. Same with the weapon sellers," the grizzled man explains.
"Woah now, Big Brother." The woman in tartan gestures around the collection of tents. "Just where is it that we'd be putting cameras?" Zaza makes her settle a little, though. "We do have patrols." She rattles off the details, even as she quickens her steps toward the ring. Her walkie crackles, and she picks it up. "I know, I'm heading over," she says, ignoring the suits following her now. Lilah can pick up that Cherish's group is going off script, for some reason. Showing off?
"What if they come in over a wall or not through the--," Lilah cuts herself off, glancing from Zaza to the woman. << Something is happening. Cherish is going off script? For their performance? >> she replies instead, to Ilad and Zaza both at the same time.
Ilad startles visibly, although it is not apparent why to anybody other than those who know a telepath is talking to him. Having begun to form a question as to how often patrols, how many, where, he stops with his tongue set behind his teeth and glances at Lilah.
There's a brief, << {Who the fuck is Cherish?} >> followed by a mental affirmative, like a grunt and a thanks mixed together. A inquisitive note rings as well. Zaza squints towards the ring, hand slipping into her pocket, likely near where a sidearm is clipped. She keeps step with the tartan-woman, maybe she is just inquisitive or worried with the words of the visions running through her mind.
From the perspective of those in suits, down in the ring, a group of performers is charging at--nothing. One looses an arrow, though it's aimed badly enough that audience members can duck to the side. The woman in tartan is yelling names into her walkie now, summoning patrollers from all corners of the faire to try to figure out what's going on.
With a glance towards Zaza, it takes Lilah only a second to break out into a run, telepathy flung out ahead of her to try to find purchase in the mind of the archer though the distance is too far. Realizing it, she focuses on attempting to get her powers within working range with her sprint. Perfectly normal for their cover, right?
Ilad takes a cue from Lilah, since why would the telepath be reacting with such alacrity if it were not a bona fide emergency? He breaks into his own run, long legs eating blithely over the distance as he winds his way after Lilah. He does not reach for his lighter. He pulls out the tranq gun from its holster at his hip, although it takes him a momentum-sputtering moment to struggle it loose despite the confines of the unaccustomed suit jacket.
"Fuck." Iago's vocabulary is extensive at the moment, isn't it? Muscles tight from all that tension (thanks, Mantis). He frowns, stubbornly disbelieving, and since they're in the thick of it, or near enough... "For fuck-stop the performers," he shouts, and with a similar idea as Lilah, takes off at a somewhat panicked run with the intention of tackling the archer -- who will hopefully never see if coming, between distractions and Iago's illusions. He does not charge toward the pointy arrow, end, at least.
Lacking telepathy, Zaza uses her communicator, sharply asking, "Prestige. Mantis. Gadget. We're seeing activity, where are you?" She moves quickly once that first arrow is shot, following the pacing of her teammates just a step or two behind with lag to send off her address. She reaches for the hostler at the small of her back, tucked beneath her looser suit jacket.
"In the center of a dire enemy army with arcane weapons," Mantis provides. Uh. Helpfully.
To Iago, Mantis, and Maire's eyes, there's no sight of their comrades, coming down the hill. There's only the group of faire fighters, and the black army, marching ever closer. The young woman, leader, pushes to the front. "You cannot have the chalice!" she shouts, voice ringing. The man at the head of the black army snarls at her, like an animal.
To other eyes, the young woman advances, yells at the air, and doesn't hear the tartan woman shouting at her. Wardens materialize to move the crowds aside, herding them toward the gate and out of bow-shot.
The archer pulls another arrow from his quiver, sets it to bow, and aims -- and Lilah's mind-reading purchase and Iago's tackle come about simultaneously. The arrow's point juuust misses Iago, pushing past his sleeve, but the bow never looses. Lilah gets a thread of impression - of dark men and a quest of absolute importance. Chalices and demons.
Maire's gun disappears back into her sleeve at Iago's words, giving her direction at least. Standing there with her thumb in her nose does no one any good after all. She makes running in heels look easy as she takes off after one of those fellows she'd been having perverted thoughts about before. "Down!" is yelled as she attempts to take him out at the knees with a dive at them. Attempting to avoid any pointy bits of sword in the process.
As soon as reaches the archer's mind and wraps it in telepathy, Lilah pushes further into it without regard for subtlety, demanding her answers from him rather than searching. Who is he? Demons, chalices? WHAT??
"What army?" Zaza growls in return, accent momentarily thickening by adrenaline and heavy with breath. "Zhere is just a set of players. Stop zhem." Anything else she might say drops out, hands at ready on her weapon looking for an opening within the chaos.
And we have to say there are worse guys to have perverted thoughts about than our swordsman. He's broad-shouldered and dark and the chainmail fits him just /so/, you know? Not expecting the tackle from behind, he goes down, the sword plunging harmlessly into the ground. He kicks back, though, a solid, desperate kick-kick.
Ilad, moving quickly, ... misses a step. Checking in his progress, he addresses his comm and barks: "Mantis, repeat?"
The leader of the fighters turns as two of her men go down. "You would stop us from defeating the demons?" she demands of the agents in the ring with them, a hiss to her voice. "Do you have any idea what they'll do when they get the chalice?"
Archer's name is Jon Carver - it's there for the taking. So is the image he, his buddies, and Lilah's teammates have been seeing. An army materialized out of the air, the need for some chalice somewhere - that bit is vaguer, and against that surface certainty is a scattered, confused certainty that he's got to be on time tomorrow. Starbucks managers only so understanding.
Well, hey, that's lucky. Ahem. It's probably bad form to beat on people, but Iago's not exactly gentle with his tackling and manhandling. Since he hasn't been shot and the idea is to keep other people from getting shot, well, he makes due just trying to get the bow and arrow away from the archer. "There's /no/ demons," he snaps. So skeptical.
Mantis helpfully repeats, even as she swings her sword outward at the demons in the spirit of good fun. (Her sword, in contrast to the players, is rather wobbly.) "Dire army, demons, weapons on fire. I do not see any of you."
The archer is a little distracted by Lilah's lack of subtlety, which makes wresting weapons away from Iago's attempts to wrest them only go so well. He makes a half-there attempt at kneeing his attacker.
At seeing Carver's vision, Lilah's attention turns to searching instead for Iago's familiar mind, frustration bleeding through as she withdraws from Carver with a firmly ordered, << Drop your bow. >>
Maire says, "Don't want people to die!" is yelled towards the leader as she wraps herself around the legs of her swordsman. Head tucked she holds on, her breath whumphing out of her with the second kick though she tightens her hold. "Be still!" the kicking and her own flailing to keep hold brings her into view of the army again and her eyes widen at them coming closer. "I see demons! Hoping I'm just hallucinating." apparently she's going to keep a running dialogue as she snuggles manhunk legs.
At seeing Carver's vision, Lilah's attention turns to searching instead for Iago's familiar mind, frustration bleeding through briefly as she withdraws from the archer without a moment to spare in her anxiety to find the illusionist. AND TELL HIM TO STOP.
Weapon in hand, Ilad picks up speed again with a ferocious sort of scowl etched into his expression as he moves toward the general chaos, not unlike a man prepared to charge headfirst into a volcano. How far away is he at this point??
"There are!" The leader shouts, of demons, with a performer's projection. It probably need not be said that to Zaza, Ilad, and Lilah, Mantis is wobbly-swining at the air. The leader turns and charges at--head demon--a remaining warden who stares at her uncomprehendingly. "Cherish?" he asks.
From mind to mind, Lilah finds a similar picture, demons, and a sense of a need to protect the chalice. It burns brightest in Cherish's.
There's a stuttered pause as Zaza listens to this new piece of news, before following Ilad on quicksilver feet with her gun in hand. /What/. Demons. What. She looks for Mantis, if there is a Mantis to be seen in the mess of the ring and what cannot be seen.
"The entire realm will die if you don't release me, foul temptress," the swordsman shouts, and perhaps compliments. Hello, Maire. He is a big man and a strong man, and he releases his sword to better aid - escape over actually harming said temptress.
Our in-progress heroes are certainly close enough to see our already-there heroes, Mantis, Iago, Maire, et al, and see them rather well. Another sprint would bring them into attack range.
Iago is not getting kneed if he can help it. Mostly, he just wants to keep Carver /down/ and not shooting at anyone, even if that means sitting on him. "Well-" He hesitates a moment, then rolls his eyes, heart-hammering and shouts at the leader, "Well, then you know nothing of the demons! Because by fighting them directly you only make them stronger!" Well, that probably falls on deaf ears what with the leader charging. "Stop!"
Maire says, "I'm thinking not, really. Be still!" in a voice that sounds as if she's loosing breath. Strong men are not easy to keep down and finally after a bit of wiggling she goes for something else in her sleeve, and attempts to pop him with a sort of mini-tranq gun. (Tired, hope that gives some sort of visual) "Gonna have to knock 'em out!"
Telepathy turned to Iago, Lilah bleeds frustration for him as well as she questions quickly, << Are you using illusions? What are you doing? >> She doesn't wade into the fray, coming to a sudden stop away from it and staying still there where she can try to scan the crowds for any unidentified psionics in case it's not Iago.
Another sprint into range, then so sprint shall Zaza go until she has moved into firearms range and not sword range. That would just be silly. "Put down your weapon," she calls. A scowl set across her mouth as she directs the call towards one of the players. Still seeing no ghastly demon armies?
What demons, you say, suits? Oh, look over there. /Those/ demons. A dark host, armor faintly chitonous, flames reflecting oddly in the surface. The young woman facing them down glows with a vague sort of light.
<< It's not me. >> Iago is plenty frustrated himself, it sizzles across his response. << I'm not... >> This powerful. << They're attacking an evil army. For fuck's sake, stop them or something. >>
The young archer under Iago looks - tired, and a little scared. No, a lot scared, really. "If that is so -- then we need to go." Like the swordsman, his efforts start ranging more toward simple escape. Unlike the swordsman, he is still mobile enough to do so. Maire's quick-dart at such a close range finds its mark, and the man wobbles toward the ground.
"Tramp," Ilad growls into his comm, weapon swinging back and forth as he looks for something particular to aim at, trying to remember what was really there and what isn't, "which of them is in our /heads/." Despite his total certainty that there is nothing there, he wrestles with the evidence of his own eyes.
<< I--, >> Lilah's sentence never completes itself, her attention caught and held by the suddenly appeared army, her mouth opening slightly in awe and shock. Telepathy slips away from Iago, subtlety gone as the burden of it lifts from his mind and transfers to the demonds instead, trying to find a thought there instead. She doesn't answer Ilad, yet, not having one.
The archer gains a couple friends from the remaining four standing. The glowing young woman goes nowhere just yet, but the others start running /away/ from the demon army, which seems rather a good strategy, really. They make the earth rumble slightly under all the agents' feet.
Unfortunately, wobbly swordsman ends up falling backward on top of Maire and her tranq gun, but this does not lessen her victory!
The archer joins his buddies in a slightly uneven run. Retreat, retreeeeat. Away from the rumbling, thank you.
Blue eyes widen as the demonic army slips into being, sucking in a tight breath through her teeth, Zaza steadies her aim. There cannot be anything there, they just walked through it, right? "Tramp?" Ilad's demand is echoed in her query, with minds deceived so that eyes must see the gleaming black army.
Cherish whirls to face the agents, now her friends are slipping away from her. "Wait--" she begs. "Why are you--" She focuses on Iago, since he shouted run last. "Why?" The rumbling gets worse and worse.
Slightly panicked at finding the demons' minds instead of the blankness of illusions, Lilah broadcasts a sharp and uneasy << No one's in our heads. It's--They're real, >> to the agents closest to her. The word 'real' still holds some uncertainty, disbelief mingled with fear that bleeds into minds.
Mantis stops swinging her wobble-sword as the rumbling intensifies. Unfortunately, her bleeding tension and worry is getting worse. This is sure to make all her teammates feel easier in their skin.
Ilad curses up a blue streak, secure that no one of tender ears will understand his Hebraic foul mouth, or else beyond caring. He rejects Lilah's diagnosis with a violence that becomes literal. "Then I will just have to kill them, won't I," he sneers, and strides forward with high arrogance toward the fiery demons. Fear and tension together resonate together in a battle pitch, humming in the blood like an elixir of adrenaline and anger. How many demons are you going to try to kill, Ilad? Maybe he has lived in California long enough not to fear a little earth shaking.
Hands clenched tight enough at his sides to make his knuckles white, Iago faces Cherish as she focuses on him, brow knitted and jaw clenched. "Because-" He stumbles, worried, through heavy breaths. "Because you can't win this way!" Is this the right thing to do? Who knows. It got the others to stop -- if that was even right to do.
The main demon separates from the rest. It strides forward, feet clanking like platemail boots. The rumbling settles into a rhythm with each footstep. Kill him? You're welcome to /try/!
Cherish draws in a shuddering breath, and looks back over her shoulder at the demons. "Perhaps not," she says, and takes off after her friends. Congratulations, agents. They're leaving the demons to you!
As Iago tries to convince people to run and Ilad moves to take on an army by himself, Lilah instead questions Zaza with a thrumming tension that mounts further at Mantis' bleed, << What do we do? You need to--What do we do? >>
Mantis, drawing in as she is, feeding out as she is, peaks the tension and fear and adds Ilad's anger and drive to the knot of spun emotions, without meaning to, without control. Her hand slips on her sword hilt even as she reraises her useless "weapon."
Ilad casually steals some of the flame coursing around him, lighting up his hands. It roars to life, crackling blue-white and hot enough to melt steel, raging onward past steel and into some searing, blistering, metal-obliterating heat. His carefully maintained self-control slipping into the abandon of war, he blasts the demon lord with a pillar of supernaturally superheated fire hot enough to ... just about melt graphite.
The demon warlord--stops, and disappears within the flame. At first, he laughs, as the flames lick harmlessly off his armor, but then his armor softens, and melts. The demon screams, and the rest begin to draw back in shock.
"Chol," Zaza bites into the comm unit as he strides towards the demon like a soldier preparing for virtue. "/Stop./ Think. What have zhey done? What have zhey touched?" She scowls, pointing her weapon towards one of the demons as Mantis' frustration settles into nerves, twitching and plucking at them. "We saw /nothing/ outside--" Ever the clinging skeptic for all her love of a story, the rumbling of the earth bucking and making a liar of her, the thought broken at Lilah thrums at her mind. << I-- This cannot be real. >> She bites her lip, teeth digging in savagely, biting through as Mantis adds father to the knot. Still, her attention is caught as the plated body lights up, eyes wide. "Stop," she breathes desparately.
<< Watch, >> Lilah replies sharply to Zaza, indicating silently to one of the lower demons, closer to their side than the other and at the front of the army. << They have /minds/. /Watch/. >> Her intention choreographed to the older woman before she does it, she jabs telepathy into the indicated demon's mind and orders << Sit! >> into the swirling, dark mass.
Ilad staggers, watching the flame he has made, almost too bright in its brilliant blaze to look directly at. It is as hot as he has ever run, as much as he has ever put into a single burst of power, ratcheting up from ordinary flame to -- this -- so quickly, so dramatically. His dizziness a fresh assault on his dignity, he grapples for self-control in the aftermath of his brief explosion. Strings well-plucked, he bares his teeth in a feral kind of a grin as he wobbles (just a little) in triumph. "Toy with me, will you," he says, queerly hoarse. "I will break all of your toys."
Mantis pulls in Ilad's exhausted, dizzy, triumph, Lilah's intentionality, and spews it out into the emotional ether, diluting the tension with victory. And given that thread of victory, she acts, focusing a bolt of /terror/ into the demon she'd been swinging at all this time to minimal effect.
A demon at the front of the army abruptly stops staring at the light where his leader used to be and--collapses. He ends sort of sitting, more kneeling. Sitting is hard in armor. Behind him, the breadth of the host is growing--dimmer, however. Perhaps the demons too are retreating. The demon before Mantis breaks and runs, shoving aside his comrades.
"What are you-" Iago shouts at Ilad, surprised and angry and worried....round and round, emotions go, to not real end or action. He cuts off shouting though as Ilad's actions...happen and then seems to actually effect the demon in his armor. But it can't... "But-" He winces, squinting at the sight, and holding up a hand to block the light at the flames grow brighter. He staggers backwards, turning his head to look around at the demon army still there -- still /really/ there?
<< No. >> The thought is gritted out, clenched between teeth and a bloodied lip as Zaza watches. She watches Lilah's puppet drop to his knees, watches the shifting light of Ilad's beautiful destruction and Mantis' puppet sacred away. "So you're real zhen," she snarls, voice cold as she points towards one of the minions gathered near. "What is your purpose then? Ze unseen and zhen ze seen again?"
The hoard is in retreat, startled by strange weapons of witchfire far greater than their own, by mental weapons in their heads. Even Evil can be unnerved when their leader is so destroyed. But the minion nearest Zaza does respond, such as it is, with deep-throated grunts and a shaken blade, a threat even as he withdraws.
Ilad scowls dizzily after their retreat as he lets the flames fade and die. He says nothing, moistening his lips before he swallows with a flicker of his tongue, but stands there with his enemies in rout.
Lips tight in concentration, Lilah attempts to keep her lower demon down under the press of telepathy, her fingers turning white as she keeps a fierce eye on the demon and waits for--something.
Zaza looks irritated at the minion's response, fingers twitching against the pistol still held in her hand and a scowl set into her lips. She still does not fire, but instead moves towards Ilad's scorched earth as she watches the demon's retreat. How do they go, with the same disconnected air that they came in with or by foot and body? Waiting to see.
Iago watches the horde in retreat with a frown, tension still keeping his posture rigid and his jawline tight. He swallows, confusion and uncertainty growing, and then glances around to look for his teammates -- for anyone not this...Evil.... Everyone alright?
Initially, the demon retreat seems fairly solid, all thunk-thunk of feet and clatter of swords until they fade into an unknown distance. However, Lilah's held demon and the demon delayed by chatting with Zaza are given over to a stranger reaction. They simply fade. Wash out transparent and then go entirely. The faire itself, with baffled attendees and a rather unscorched and untrampled grounds remain.
Ilad narrows his gaze at the ground. He nudges at the lack of scorched dirt with one shoe.
(Also the guy on top of Maire remains. Asleep.)
Startling again, Lilah frowns at the disappearing mind, her power attempting to stretch to find it again before shifting quickly to scan the surrounding minds for any tell-tale bright psionic presences.
"Is anyone hurt?" Zaza asks, eying that unmarred patch of earth with a very flat expression. She finally drags her eyes up from it to check over her team: Ilad, Lilah, Mantis, the pinned Maire, Iago. Okay?
Lilah finds Mantis. (Who is finally starting to calm back toward neutral.) And Iago. Hi, Iago!
Hello! As the army finally disappears, Iago takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly while he takes in the scene -- the attendees, the unmarked ground. "Still not real," he whispers, maybe trying to reassure himself. "We should probably..." He trails off, recollects his thoughts. "Regroup or...something. I'm fine, M-uh...one down. Two...down." He gestures at the Maire and Other Guy pile.
Without finding any unknown minds, Lilah instead settles on Mantis's and brushes an echo of Zaza's question at her friend with concern as she answers their teamlead with a shake of her head.
"I am fine," says Mantis (and mental-echoes for Lilah, a little warmer) with excessive dignity.
Ilad snarls something under his breath. He rubs two fingertips at either temple, and then crouches to pick up the gun he must have dropped at some point in the false confrontation. He says, "Fine," like everyone else.
"Good. I'm glad," this is a little warmer than her previous questions as she looks over the team, holstering her gun with shaking hands. "Regroup zhen. I want him brought with us for questioning," Zaza says slowly, indicating towards Maire's hunky man-meat pillow. She scrubs a hand over her face, looking towards the atendees. This is going to be fun.
"What is real? They had minds, they could die. Maybe they could kill us," Lilah mumbles, her jaw tightening as she glances towards the retreating army. With the order to regroup, she waits awkwardly until they move somewhere else, following Zaza somewhat like a lost puppy with her uncertainty of what they're doing now.
Iago...attempts some crowd control. He takes a breath, then moves in the direction of any not-staff-attendees hanging around and watching with a smile that looks genuine enough, even though it is very forced after the events. "Hey, yeah. Shows over..." He claps it bit, which serves either as as a 'give them a hand' motion or a 'it is over' motion. "Check your schedules for when the next performance is." All part of the festivities, right? Nothing weird...
Mantis just flexes her manful muscles and goes to lift man off of Maire.
General instructions are given, the boys and Mantis and Maire to remove their new friend back to a reasonable place for questioning when the tranq wears off. Zaza is likely going to go do damage control, mimicking Iago's clapping motion with a tight smile for the crowd. Cheers right? That wasn't a show gone awry or anything. Lilah can puppy-dog with her and they'll go speak to some faire officials while looking totally official with their badges. Rendezvous later?
A fact that does not prevent Ilad from lighting one on fire.