2475/Not quite a Fair Folk Festival

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Not quite a Fair Folk Festival
Date of Scene: 16 July 2020
Location: Central Park
Synopsis: The New Horizons Folk Festival in Central Park is interrupted by a gang of marauding... goblins? Good thing a handful of heroes are on hand to help.
Cast of Characters: Amanda Sefton, Arthur Curry, Meggan Puceanu, Achilles, Alexis Carr, Michael Hannigan

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Central Park on a lazy July evening. It's mid-week, sure, but the first annual New Horizons Folk Festival is slated to run from now through Sunday. Five days of ecclectic folk and world music in one of the most scenic places in one of the world's greatest cities.

Five large stages are scattered throughout the park, with smaller tented venues in between. Moving from one area to another, surprisingly, has only a little bleed of one band into the sound of another. There's actually a good variety of music, ranging from country folk to celtic rock, east coast fiddlers to funkified folk-based SKA (as weird as that sounds -- just go with it).

Because it's mid-week, the crowds aren't as big as they could be. But the park's still packed. Because it's New York. In summer. There are *tourists*, nevermind native New Yorkers. Therfore, crowds. Lots of them.

Amanda Sefton, clipboard in hand, is actually working the festival tonight. Because, you know, she was hired to help with some of the event planning. At the last minute. When the previous event planner quit.

This should have told her something.

But, you know, new business and such. She needs the clients. And, gods willing, the good word of mouth.

One of the main bands, Celtic Warband, is just about to take the stage -- a covered edifice set up by the lake. They're an interesting group. Celtic Rock. Painted blue. In kilts.

Even the drummer -- who is a woman. (And sports a Red Sonja bustier. Go figure.)

Thus, Amanda stands in the shade of a steel truss, watching the crowd drift in as the band starts to play.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Not a native New Yorker, in fact far from it, Arthur made the trip as he wasn't immune to the pull of such a celebration. There was something shared with the people who spent their time enjoying the atmosphere of such a place and such a festival. Something in how the people carried themselves, at ease with each other and a stronger feel of brotherhood, camaraderie, even family in some ways.
    It was there for him as he strolled through the crowd, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing work boots, canvas pants and a vest. A chain connected his wallet in the backpocket to his belt, and his tattoos were evident at a glance. Most every other day he seems like some intimidating growly rough-looking figure of a man. But here, amongst these people celebrating their heritage and the future, he fit in with ease. No casual glare or glower comes from him, even though his features might seem severe. Arthur just walks in the crowd with an easy gait and a wry smile.
    When he passes by a group of people tuning their instruments he gives a nod cushioned with a half-grin, then wanders along his way heading not to one of the stages. But to the tall tent where they have the local micro-breweries offering their latest concoctions.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
So much to hear! So much to see, and to do. Where does someone even begin?

Meggan is in the thick of it, a tourist through and through. Listen to her for five words and the Cumbrian lilt comes through plenty strong. An Englishwoman in New York has plenty to do, and that means dancing once the music really starts.

It hasn't yet. Soon, though, which brings the blonde woman closer. She gets a fair share of looks, especially from younger people thanks to a fairly colossal social media footprint. Folk music and protesting against climate change go together awfully well.

When the first sounds blaze from Celtic Warband, she is bobbing up and down on her toes, eager to see. Harmonies call out for her to respond, feeling out the beat with a swiveling undulation before she really lets go. She too fits in very easily among the others in the crowd, carefree and swept up in the sounds of her homeland. Almost bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation, it's a wonder she manages not to knock into anyone. More likely they might accidentally cross paths with her, met with a grin supposing they do.

Achilles has posed:
    Having relocated from Metropolis to New York recently, Angelo finds himself in the park more often. I mean sure, he bought a house in Brooklyn, but he still ventures into town to visit the park. His company pretty much runs itself without needing him to be there. In fact, he promoted his most effective manager to president of the company so that he could be free to move on.
    He had been around Myrmidon Personal Security long enough that people were going to start noticing that he didn't age pretty soon. And so now he hangs out with a group whose superiors know who he really is.
    Then again, Nick Fury knows a lot about a lot of things. So Angelo Tampambulos, Agent of SHIELD now lives in New York, and is now visiting the park in bluejeans, a plain white teeshirt, and a black and white New York Yankees ball cap that has been well loved.
    Folk music takes him back a ways, and he stands with his eyes shut, memories flickering back over the centuries to the first time he heard local Celtic music in Britain. It was the year 1067... Bagpipes were something he'd never heard or even heard of at that point. But now they take him back when they play. Either way, he just stands in the crowd, eyes closed as he waits patiently for the set to start.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    Alexis Carr is enjoying a day away from... everything. Just everything.

    So, she was wearing a Janis Joplin T-shirt, big, round sunglasses, her dark hair cast down in a long braid, and fun jeans with bright orance stripes down the sides, and a pair of sneakers. She had taken up a place near the festival, her lips pursed, eyes closed, listening to the music with a happy expression on her face.

    Unfortunately, she chose to borrow a NY Mets cap today, and has gotten some razzing.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Dressed down in his Goodwill best, T-shirt exposing the scar on his right forearm and hair tucked away under a ball cap, a freshly shaven Mike is celebrating his newfound freedom from film shoots and reshoots. Thanks to the floating set fire in May, what should have finished up in early June took until mid July. YAY.

But no matter. Mike is enjoying his time moving from show to show, observing former co-workers enjoying their stagetime while he enjoys NOT being on stage and having a beer. Yep. Perfect way to spend the day!

Currently he's moving over towards the stage of the next show set to start, opting to keep off to the side. Perhaps not acoustically the best, but easy to get out of whenever there's a crush of the crowd.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
A full drum kit. A couple of bodhrans. Electrified bagpipes. Electric fiddles. Electric guitars. And good, old-fashioned Irish flute augmented by a mic on a stand. That's the instrumentation of Celtic Warband. The front man looks like an extra from Braveheart, and he starts the set with a tuneful yowl of a ululation that expands into the hard driving beat of an old Scottish folk song that's been massively updated for modern ears.

Amanda nods with satisfaction as people are already on their feet, cheering and dancing. She touches the earpiece in her right ear and wishes the stage manager good luck in theatre terms, "Break legs, guys," before moving away towards the pathway between venues. Because, there will be other bands start up in fifteen minutes.

As she begins to move between the people, however, she is startled by a woman's scream. That is *not* a sound someone in charge of running an event -- any event, but particularly one of this size in Central Park -- wants to hear. She raises her head and starts scanning the crowd to find the source of the scream.

It doesn't take long to figure it out, mainly because the crowd toward the centre lawn starts acting like waves crashing on the nearby lakeshore, foaming and scattering as they run. Away. From...

"Oh, bloody hell." Amanda swears, proving Meggan's not the only transplant from the UK or the Continent.

Nipping at the heels of the crowd are hoards of little... creatures. They're... what? Goblins? Imps? Some sort of otherworldly critter with long spindley arms, talons on their fingers and toes, stubby tails with tufts on the end, huge yellow eyes, and batlike ears. Their skin ranges from green to grey to purple and mottled shades in between. And on each of their heads is a deep crimson beret, all of which seem to be soaking wet.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    At the mouth of the tent Arthur pauses, hand on the flap and his head tilted to the side. Brow furrowed as he turns his gaze to the distance and the sound of that scream. His features twist, braided beard shifting to the side slightly with that scowl he shakes his head.
    In that instant he catches a young man walking out of the tent carrying a beer in each hand. "Hey, Buddy." The Atlantean gives the man a look, "I'll owe you one."
    That said he grabs one of the beers and starts walking in the direction of the screaming, tilts it back to swallow as much as he can with his Adam's apple working three times before he /thumps/ the empty onto a nearby picnic bench.
    But when the screams continue he grimaces, breaks into a jog. Then a jog that turns into a run as he starts to head in that direction.
    Meanwhile, beer guy frowns as he looks after, holding his lone solo beer now and saying softly. "He...heeey."

Achilles has posed:
    With eyes closed, and listening to the sounds around him, it is difficult for Angelo to miss that sound. His eyes snap open and he turns in the direction of the screams.
    He stands there and stares. Not in disbelief or shock. More in resignation. The look on his face says, 'oh by the gods, this again?' And he begins walking -towards- the beasties. And sure, it's like swimming upstream against the flow of the masses, but he's gotten good at that in battle situations. In a fleeing civilian one, it's a bit easier.
    One of the little things is about to tackle a fleeing woman, when its neck is grabbed. And while Angelo is strong, he's not superhuman. He is just good at this. He grabs the thing's neck and twists to toss it back towards its fellows, "Nice try." he says to them. "Time to go home." And yeah, his voice sounds a bit bored as he speaks.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    Well. Alexis WAS enjoying the music. She blinks a moment as she straightens up, hearing the scream. She *should* turn away, find cover -- but let's face it..

    ... not the worst thing she's faced this week.

    Hoppint to her feet as she goes towards the sound of the screaming, diving between others who might be escaping the scene as she comes up to the scene of the sound -- and sees the ugly, weird little creatures.

    "... what in the --" she begins quietly, but she decides that this probably the source of the issue as she looks at the little goblins, and she braces herself.

    "All right you lot, what *are* you?!" she asks them... also from the UK. And very posh sounding.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Ok Screamo does not often go with folk music and yet there is screaming. And there is chaos. Sipping his beer, Mike shifts his glance looking towards the source of the disturbance. Brows lift in surprise as he steps aside to avoid getting mowed down by one of the fleeing concert goers. Damn it.

He sighs, tilting his head back to finish off his drink quickly before stepping in front of another person running, tilting back as if he got knocked down, getting hidden by the impending stampede.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Right near the front of the stage, Meggan tries not to take up overly much space. Keeping herself from preventing anyone else from getting into the groove, caught in the swirl of momentum as the flute and electric fiddles play a lively beat. She knows what this is about, undulating her hips and lifting her hands over her head. The crowd's good mood is her good mood, reflected back at Celtic Warband.

A scream in the event tends to put a damper over getting lost in the moment. Her eyes open, startled, knocked out of a reverie. Not high, though it might be easy to think so.

"Bollocks," she spits out in surprise. Arms drop lower as someone tries to nudge her aside. Waves push back and forth that roll past. It's near impossible for her to see the source of the madness. "What happened to lettin' people enjoy a nice concert?" With the pressure around her becoming especially claustrophobic, she pushes past people flowing the wrong way. An open pass gives her a route; that's after Angelo. She sees one of them snap by.

Crimson berets on their heads--

"Oh, a band of redcaps? Where did -they- come from?" The chiming tone might be alarming, but a warning all the same as she bounds closer still. A few of them might spot her. Might spot the pointed ears when she bounds into its path. "Ever play with Aes Sidhe? They send their regards!"

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Red Caps. Some of the nastiest little buggers the Unseelie ever unloosed upon creation. And, yes, rarely -- rarely! -- without a master... lurking. Somewhere.

As more people scream, more people scatter. And Amanda finds herself quickly coming to the point of losing her temper. She does not want her first major New York event to be overrun with dark fae monsters. This is too important.

But, more important than any of that is the people. Because, yes, there are people being hurt. Some of them severely.

She starts barking orders through her earpiece. "Cody, we need trauma services, stat. We're evacuating the main lawn. Now."

She starts to run, like a handful of others, *toward* the sound of screams. As she goes, she utters arcane words and gestures with her hands, clipboard tossed at the base of a steel truss. Illusions spring up, redirecting the fleeing crowds and hoping to distract at least some of the front line of goblins. And it works. At least until the goblins realize the illusions they fall for have no blood...

Arthur Curry has posed:
    With some of the others having already engaged some of the goblins, or otherwise gained their attention, Arthur's arrival might not be entirely noticed until the very last moment. For that run he had been taking had at first been tempered by the rush of people past. An obstacle negotiated with strong arms trying to shift the flow, then words added to try and calm the people somewhat.
    "Look out, don't panic, panicking doesn't help anyone. Get clear..." All delivered in a loud voice that might be stifled by the roar of the crowds. Until.
    "I said get the HELL OUT OF THE WAY PEOPLE!" Booming, irate, angry, and coming from that mountain of a man who looks like he might be more at home on the steppes of some wild Howard novel.
    And it serves its purpose for the crowd /parts/ and starts to flee around the man. Which gives him a clean line straight to the goblins, and in turn allows him to break into a run. A short sharp run that accelerates intensely until.
    /BOOM!/ He slams shoulder first into one poor unfortunate goblin and sends it flyyyyying into its mates with that rough check and him standing there looking toward Alexis and Angelo, "The hell are these things?"

Achilles has posed:
    Sighing softly, Angelo just stands between the redcaps and their prey. At least on one side he does. He spreads his arms out and intercepts three redcaps who lunge... and strike at him violently... innefectually. "To repeat myself... it is time to bugger off." And that said, he kicks one squarely between the legs, and steps back a half pace... spear appearing in his hand. It's no trident, but a simple bronze tipped spear. The bronze a bit shinier than usual. Celestial Bronze, forged by Hephaestus himself... "Come ahead at your own..." and one does lunge for him, ending up skewered to try to make room for his comrade to get to Angelo.. but the spear withdraws and comes down to brain the third on top of the head... and the weapon ends up being uses to keep clearance about the Yankees cap guy....

Alexis Carr has posed:
    "Redcaps? /REDCAPS?/ Outside of Derby?" Alexis bemoans when Meggan pronounces their identity, and she rolls her neck a moment. "All right then." she breathes out, and pulling her sunglasses down and tossing them to the side, she grips one hand in a fist and lights up, a brilliant blaze forming in her arm as she launches a softball-sized hard ball of flame at another one of the redcaps in question!

    "Redcaps, killer fae. Hit 'em hard, see if they run back to where they came from! But a fae mond? In NYC?" she asks "... the hell not?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
With the wave of people running over where Mike fell, it might appear that the poor musician has left the world in a less than pleasant manner. A moment of silence please...

But, oddly enough, several yards away from where he fell, a purplish black raven shoots out from the canopy of humanity. Wings spreading out to it's IMPRESSIVE (not really) three foot wing-span. The slightly large-ish Corvid arcs backwards, completing the loop to direct itself towards the source of the problem.

The phantasm never got to where ever in Strange's library these suckers are described. He has no idea on their weaknesses, their hopes, their desires, and right now his current thought process is that they're trying to hurt people and, unlike him, that's not going to fly. He flies low, concentrating his full force to the front part of his wings to clothesline a couple of the goblins.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Too much a risk to just wade into battle, as if battle makes sense. Meggan bears a smile at one of the toothy horrors that comes rolling at her, since no doubt it things a bare-footed dancer looks like easy prey.

It will learn she is not. The speed of her moving into its path becomes a stark blur until she comes to a standstill, colliding with the monstrous little fae with gnashing teeth and curled fingers. It goes soaring back towards the water. The next one tries to give a snap at her only to be met with a sharp-fanged smile of her own and a toss of the creature to Alexis. "Show them how it's done!" she calls to Alexis, giving her something to ignite in midair where the problems may be fewer with incendiaries.

The lean turn of a dance proves useful when facing down goblins possibly scenting their own like in the area. She reads as fae to them, no doubt, bleeding the Otherworldly power stamp. When it comes to fighting these, though, her trick is to keep moving. And to keep breathing.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
People scatter as much from Arthur's bellow as the shrill warcries of the bloody-capped goblins. It actually doesn't take long for the normies to get the hell outta dodge, as they say. Especially given the mystical promptings of one blonde-guised gypsy sorceress.

By now, Amanda has wrapped herself in magic, her jeans and blouse replaced by the leather of her costume as Daytripper. She pulls the blue hood of her frockcoat up over her blonde head -- it has protective runes inscribed on it which guard both her mundane identity and her comparatively fragile person -- and calls out to the others she recognizes as trying to help. "Their caps!" she shouts. "Grab their bloody caps!" Because a capless Red Cap is seriously weakened and vulnerable to all sorts of horrible things... including a good old-fashioned roundhouse.

Of course, the goblins don't particularly like that piece of advice and several of them turn towards her, teeth and claws bared. She bends her knees and leaps, conjuring an eldritch wind to lift her off the ground and out of easy reach.

So some of them start to climb the trees and trusses nearby.

With true evening settling in, sunset skies give way to deep blue starscape... which makes the subtle glow around a dark portal near a couple of trees along the lakeshore far more obvious than it was before. Especially given the beasties spilling out over its event horizon.

Achilles has posed:
    The caps. Right, the caps. So much knowledge over the years.. so many things that didn't stick because they never came up. Everyone seems to think that if you're three thousand years old, you are supposed to have some sort of encyclopedic knowledge of everything that's happened.
    When you don't think about stuff, you forget stuff. When you forget stuff, you fudge it and pretend.. or you just don't find a need for that knowledge.
    So now Angelo remembers the stories, when reminded. He re-brains the one he struck already, and then pulls back and stabs the spear through the hat. With that hat on his spear, he lifts it up and away from that Redcap before a shield appears on his left arm. A large shield also called an aspis, that is very Greek in origin. He bashes the hatless one in the face even as he sweeps his spear across two others, knocking the hats from their heads and causing a bit of chaos with them.
    With experience on the battlefield, he glances up and spots others helping. "Drive them towards me." he suggests.... as he falls back and levels his spear forward through the small gap in his shield.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Turning to look across the tableau, Arthur grimaces. "Their hats?" Even as one charges him and he catches the thing in mid-flight and /slams/ it to the ground, setting a boot on its chest and pulling the hat off with a snap of movement.
    A quick glance is given over toward Meggan and Angelo, eyes flitting from one to the other as they deal with the goblinoids, then a glance up at Amanda as she takes flight. The little creature under his boot howls and screams as it reaches for the hat. "Take em, but give me some cover if you can!" And as he says that he turns toward the nearby lake so close to the gate that rests on that short. He grimaces and lifts a hand then clenches it. The lake roils and surges, then suddenly twists into the shape of a hand that becomes a fist. The water rages, bubbling as it swirls around, gaining power as it rises...
    Then comes crashing down upon the gate area, splashing into the beach and blasting away some of the creatures, more and more water surging out of the lake and then abruptly churning and sharpening into a rapidly freezing water sculpture of crystalline ice that closes over the surging gate.
    For now it cuts off the flow of monstrosities, but for how long?

Alexis Carr has posed:
    Those caps, she decides, are entirely out of style. She then draws herself back a little bit further, her hands aflame as she breathes out, and begins to lob quick blasts of fire, aiming for the head.

    She tries to just set their hats aflame, the smell of burning woll and blood might be hanging in the air as she t works, her nose wrinkling as she begins to give little coughs --

    And the water rises at Arthur's command, and she winces a moment -- but she moves to put herself between him and the creatures, in case he needs to make a wave again!

    PEw pew pew goes the fireballs!

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Yay! Cliffsnotes! At the shouted out advice the Raven arcs up in flight again, the avian acrobat twisting and corkscrewing back towards the goblins. his focus shifts, as the first descent has him using both talons to snatch off caps from above before flying towards Angelo. Veering off at the last second for any that chose to chase him to meet the spear weilding security head instead. Leaving them to the heavies, the bird flies over to lure more strays towards their doom with daring feats of arial cap snatching.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan wears that same unhappy grimace as one of the redcaps does its damnedest job to veer into her leg. Bad idea because the buoyant blonde can, in fact, float at will. Being able to snatch at its cap based on Amanda's suggestion and then punt it straight into the flow of the water could be useful. She takes a bite for the effort, nasty thing stripping away denim and a bit of skin. Blood doesn't quite slow her down as a fresh run flows down to her toes.

It makes her look plenty appealing to a hungry Unseelie fae, more than likely. The water is sure to wash some of it away if she can move through the masses of people fighting. More importantly, the earth around her starts to tremble in response to her blood dripping on it. Rocky spikes burst up where redcaps get too close, slowing them or just piercing straight through their soles. Grass entangles their feet in knots. Softened soil gives way to swallow the little buggers up to the knees or more, forcing them to claw their way out or deal with nature going into revolt. Central Park is a park after all. An angry park, as it turns out. Water answers Arthur. Nature sings to her.

Meggan uses that freedom to collide with the ground-based goblins using a combination of open-handed hits and elongated sweeps of her leg to clear them out of the way. Airborne redcaps are much better to be speared by Angelo, burnt by Alexis or Mike to snatch more hats.

There are much worse things to be surrounded by than falling, roasted redcap hats!

Amanda Sefton has posed:
The little critter beneath Arthur's boot continues its caterwauling, talons scrabbling on the big man's boots while he turns the portal into a glassed-in snowglobe. "Ghaaaarrrraaaaaggghhh!" the critter yells intelligently. "Tabhair dom mo chaipín ar ais!"

Nevertheless, the immediate tide of its fellows is stemmed by the ice encapsulating the gate.

The critters are further incensed by the fireballs knocking the caps from their heads. More importantly, the caps that burn to cinders result in strangled wails as the goblins themselves burst into flame and dust into dark ash that coincides with the fate of their headgear.

In short order, Alexis will find a small squadron of the buggers coming up on her forward flank, fit for bloody vengeance.

Similarily, the caps impaled on Angelo's spear result in goblins gacking up blood from their mouths and sudden wounds appearing in their chests -- right through their hearts. They, too, die quickly, but perhaps not without consequence. Several of their brethren pause by their fallen bodies to wash their caps in the welling blood.

The caps that Meggan throws into the water lead to a somewhat different effect. As the blood is washed from the fabric -- albeit not nearly as quickly as it could be simply due to the sheer amount of blood -- the goblins yowl and go rushing headlong into the water to try and snatch the wool pieces up before the blood is completely gone. Those that fail, drown. Those that succeed in gaining their caps back, struggle to return to shore. They're weakened by the blood loss, but not quite out.

Though, one might suppose water *really* isn't the safest place for them, regardless of the success of their retrievals.

Goblins without their caps, whose berets have not suffered the ignomy of fire, water, or blade, however, chase after those caps like ravenous dogs, desperate to gain back the source of their strength. They're easily taken out, however, when they're bludgeoned, sliced, or tossed.

Those that have scaled the trees and trusses, start taking wild leaps at Daytripper, who still floats in the air. She blasts out at them with magic bolts, knocking off caps in the air (leaving goblin bodies to die upon impact with the ground as they fall), or sending the little buggers careening into one of the other sources of grizzly goblin death.

Down by the river, a more human throat lets loose with a strangled cry of rage as his portal is temporarily put on ice. He steps out of the shadows, breaking the magecircle that had surrounded him, kept him hidden, and kept the portal powered up. "You can't do that!" he screams at Arthur.

Yeah. He probably has a death wish. At the very least...

He's crazy.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Can't do what?" Arthur asks as he focuses on the man emerging from the shadows and the magecircle that had been protecting him. Even as he pockets that hat in his hand, and unceremoniously steps back off the squirming goblin to /kick/ it straight at the mage who made himself known.
    One instant it's just a squealing caterwauling thing and then it's flying across the distance straight toward that magic user.
    Though he starts to walk over towards the perhaps distracted spell-caster, making his way through the tide of wild critter gobbos, /booting/ one or another that gets close to him, collecting a hat here or there from ones that leap or attack him only to put them down roughly.
    And as he strides he tells the sorcerer, "Buddy. Every hat I collect, I'm going to make you eat each one. And then I'm gonna let the goblin things free to chase your ass down. Unless you end this whole craziness right now."
    A few more strides, "Capisce?"

Achilles has posed:
    Right, as a son of Thetis, a nymph of Poseidon, and the great grandson of Zeus, Angelo, aka Achilles, does his job of herding these creatures with spear and shield... almost like he's done this sort of thing before, a few (hundred?) times. But he jabs and bashes, swipes and jabs some more. Spears really are awesome for the reach they have. Especially when their wielder knows what he's doing.
    But he steps towards the water (ice?) and curls around a flank of the redcaps. As he knows, there's no quick win when large numbers are involved. You work methodically, incrementally, and you just do what you can, at the best speed for it. Sometimes that speed is glacially slow, but he is exceptionally good at battlefield tactics, and does his best to turn this flank of the creatures back upon itself.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    "Maybe --" fireball! "A little --" fireball! Fireball! "less conversation--" Alexis calls out, toasting hats and striking goblins as she moves backwards, her back towards the forward-walking arthur, "A little more action please?" she takes a couple more steps backwards before she braces herself, and brings her bands together before spreading them in a wide arc and shouting:

    "OI! Get back you cretins!" she shouts, and as her calories take a hit, she spies a handy trashcan.

    That greasy food wrapers and paper bags is convenient, and she sets *that* aflame, trying to build up the fire to shape and form a wall!

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Fly fly fly! Grab grab grab! Bait Lead! Dive away! Yeah, the plan is a bit repetitive with the bird flying about in a fury, basically doing his damndest to distract the dwindling Goblin numbers by leading them towards their demise.

As one Goblin leaps out of a tree, he diverts his path, spinning around mid air like a dancer. Which, physically should not be possible. And yet. There the bird is doing that. Moment over, he goes back to the original plan. Now what was it? Right. Flying, theiving and leading.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Team A-for-Awesome is doing fantastic. They have a Greek hero stabbing things, a sea hero controlling the Unseelie crowd, a pyrokinetic making short work of ugly red hats. The illusions lifting and falling in succession have great impact, and all this together pulls Meggan into the very thick of trouble. Being carried along by the thrill of battle might be dangerous, but she isn't suffering worse than bleeding at a controlled pace.

The earth continues bucking off the redcaps directly around her, giving an assist to fighting the goblins. Small gestures keep entangling feet and ankles, deflecting scrapes and blows. Goblins surging around Arthur snap her focus there for a moment, and she widens her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asks him. Or maybe all kinds of rhetorical. She hurries behind the booted and bashed dark fae-spawn, seeing an opportunity at the man screaming at them all. The approach behind Arthur is not loud but not stealthy either.

She lifts her hands and points her palms at the sorcerer in his broken ring of power. "I don't like bullies much. Especially not one inviting Unseelie here." A glow starts to form rapidly between her spread fingers, proof of an energy signature about to be discharged. Maybe two of them, two hands and all.

The sorcerer moves wrong or starts to chant, he gets a blast to the chest.

Achilles has posed:
    "Seriously, just send them home already." mutters Angelo as he dances about their flank. The shield is not so much to defend himself as it is to bash at those trying to get around him. The spear does much the same thing... keeping the Redcaps occupied. The half dozen hats he holds in the left hand under the shield does make them a bit unable to really... well think. They keep trying to charge him to get the hats back, and end up repulsed. "Can we be rid of these gobbers?" he calls out.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"S-stay back!" the mage yells at Arthur, throwing up his hands and back peddaling quickly. That said, he's not backing away without a fight. His skinny hands glow, the heavy silver rings on his fingers glinting in the light of the moon rising over the lake. They flick in arcane gestures -- if not the most well-formed examples of said gestures, mind. Red energy swirls in geometric shapes before him for a moment before streaking towards Arthur with murderous intent.

Except, of course, that there's a reason mages are supposed to use crisp, *accurate* gestures with their spells. So, said energy doesn't actually pack the punch he'd hope. Though it will no doubt piss Arthur off, since it ends up feeling like walking through a blanket of desert sand.

The goblins attempting to flank Alexis run into Achilles' spear... much to their detriment. That doesn't stop the hardier among them from leaping and scrambling to try to continue the fight. While their caps remain on their heads, they are amazingly resilient and damage resistant.

Still, Alexis' trashcan trick is a good one. And flame does give the little bastards pause. As already proven, flame, after all, can burn their caps... and they don't want that. So, they turn towards what seems like easier pickings instead -- like the two blonde gypsy-women types. Amanda starts calling up an eldritch wind to catch just start blowing caps off scraggly green and purple heads, tossing them into Alexis' trashcan fire.

Some of the more enterprising of the bastards even start scrabbling along the shore for sticks and stones... all of which get thrown at the marauding blackbird stealing their caps.

Meggan's bleeding attracts more of the critters to her. They like blood. No... they looooooove blood. And fae blood? That's strong stuff -- yum! But subduing an Aes Sidhe? Yeah, these guys have more than met their match.

More than that, the mage facing Arthur, in casting his spell, totally gets hit in the chest by Meggan's magic. He stumbles back... and lands on his ass.

The hood of the black wizard robe he wears falls back, revealing a pale-faced, redhaired youth with freckles, acne, and a pronounced adam's apple. Beneath the robes can be glimpsed a faded, black t-shirt with a cartoon image of Iron Man flying from the middle of his chest, and a pair of grungy black jeans. Hell, he even sports scuffed up black-and-white chuck taylors. But he also wears a silver pentacle, dented and hung upside down. So, it's pretty obvious... someone woke up with serious delusions of grandeur, this morning.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Taking long enough to round back at Alexis and Meggan and even Angelo, Arthur just has a moment long enough to snap, "I am _trying_. To solve this. Through /diplomacy/!" The last word twinned with a growling snarl of sound even as he's turning back to the unfortunate magician. Though, to be fair, the ire is perhaps more aimed at Alexis than Meggan. So there.
    Though he catches sight of the flapping dark wings and gets a sort of half-smirk, eyebrows lifting at the antics of the raven before he shakes his head and looks back to the emergent spell-caster.
    Only to get hit square in the chest with a blast of eldritch power that crackles across his tattoos and flickers over his bronzed skin, lashing around him, blasting past and over, then fading into crimson threads as the power dissipates leaving the man scrunching up one eye and his head turned to the side. And that scowl.
    That scowl is a thing of legend.
    "Alright." He says, "Diplomacy didn't work." And with that he starts to stomp straight at that mage as he digs out two of the hats he had stolen from the goblins, smacking his way through the ones that remain as he yells over his shoulder, "Give me your spare hats!"
    Because the poor spell-caster is about to eat himself some headgear.

Achilles has posed:
    The legendary scowl increases. Soon, Achilles is being swarmed, and so two things happen. One.. the bronze "Armor of Achilles" replaces the bluejeans and shirt, and his helm replaces the Yankees hat. I know.. heresy in New York. But the spear vanishes, replaced by a Xiphos sword for in close work.
    The mythical armored warrior steps up beside Arthur.. shield held before him.. and then he lowers said shield so he can view the field.
    And he gives his own scowl. "On your left." he tells Arthur as he wades in beside the Atlantean, using his shield to protect Arthur's flank, and his blade to punish and Redcap that comes close enough to -be- punished.... oh, and to swipe at hats because that's just fun.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Well that just makes for a new element. "HEY!" The bird snaps, flight adjusting to dodge what he sees coming his way. The ones he doesn't see coming just pass through him, and funny enough the caps he's currently holding on to. The raven's eyes narrow as his form twists, seemingly getting a bit bigger as he dives down towards them again. "Looks like I'm opening a millinery in a bit!" The bird yells, probably drawing a bit of confusion as he's nabbing more hats with his free talon, adding them over to the large blob of caps already collected.

As the request from Arthur reaches him, the raven's flight arcs up once more, Looping up halfway before twisting the flip to make it more of a turn towards Arthur's direction. And so, the purplish black raven flies full tilt, with a large assortment of caps in talons heading towards Arthur, with likely the surviving owners starting to pursue.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    "Good, all right, they don't like fire? This I can work with." Alexis gives a grin, and with her fire provided for her, she's a fair bit more dangerous.

    Sligning more fire and flame as the recaps, she turns her attention to sligning fire towards the ones aiming for Meggan's scent!

    "OH! I see how it is, you 'refer blondes, huh?" she calls out to the redcaps -- and though she's loathe to leave her trashcan fire (which roughly describes the last week or so in her life), she'd be willing to burn out calories to make sure that blonde stairs airborne.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"You are, and that's why I asked." Meggan's skin prickles with a bit of a warm glow around her hands. No hiding the fact of her pointed ears when she tilts her head, though the snapped anger makes her step back. Twice, actually. She bites her lower lip, the hues of the sea turning stone grey in her eyes before settling back a bit. "He's throwing some garbage at you, and not playing by the rules."

Diplomacy backed up with a sword has worked on occasion. Or a nuclear arsenal. What she has is an angry look tinged by disbelief for the youth probably not much older than her.

An unladylike sigh then. "Oh bloody hell, you're pretending at being a magician and a Slytherin with not a dram of wisdom to save you. They are real dangerous people, you do realize that?"

Sense is a bit late, especially given she stands behind Arthur and then Angelo. Floating a little higher up keeps a clear lane to throw another elemental burst and it may not help she actually throws off a faint hazy glow. Where are all those hats? If one is nearby, a wave of the wind can bring it up to Arthur.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Oh, for f...*Fates* sake!

"Are you kidding me?" Amanda echoes Meggan's incredulity when she sees the young magician sprawled on his ass. A stupid kid.

Her wind whips up the remaining hats of goblins not speared or run through on Achilles' blade or burned by Alexis' fire -- including the ones the bird and Arthur threaten the kid with -- and sends them flying into the trashcan. The remaining goblins spontaneously combust all over the place. The sorceress touches down on firm earth once more, because she's in danger of over-extending herself otherwise. Besides... the goblins are all pretty much gone, now. Dead or dying.

She marches toward the kid and grabs him by the scruff of the neck, still somehow managing to juxtapose herself between him and the more (well, maybe not *more*) aggressive others. "Don't. He's just a kid. An *idiot* kid. But a kid." She snirks derisively. "His power's in the damned jewelry." Then, wrapping a hand around the pentacle, she pulls it from his neck and fixing him with a steely glare turns a hypnotic gaze on him. "The rings, too, boy." Hurriedly, the kid complies, stripping his fingers bare and dropping the metal to the earth. Amanda scoops them up.

She pulls the kid to his feet and gives a tight smile to the others. "I know *just* the place for this git. Thanks for saving the festival." Later, she'll worry about salvaging what's left of it. Right now?

Hell hath no fury like an event planner derailed.