Now, usually, when you appear out of nowhere and begin lobbing ensorcelled thread, psychedelic watermelons, and the raw power of universal negation at foes, those foes tend to react slowly, with some sort of surprise. Not so the members of the Suneater Cult gathered in this office building on this warm Michigan night; they leap into defense with ward and knife as though they expected just such a thing to happen. Perhaps they had.

That is not to say that the three Heroes' attacks had no effect. Floral's spray of watermelons are dodged by the rank-and-file Cultists with quick footwork and the occasional spark or gust of wind, but the secondary explosion catches some of them by surprise. One of those doused by the watermelon juice shakes off the psychotropic effects and gives Floral a haughty glare, but the other five begin eyeing their surrounding Cultists with wide, panicked eyes and gripping their knives. As for the bigger players, well... the Satyr, the robed figure atop the Green dais, smiles widely as an errant fruit wanders their way and then--eats it. Whole. Without chewing. The mind balks at explaining how. Donna Rames, Mouthpiece, atop her Yellow dais, burns away all vegetation near her with contemptuous flickers of fire, holding one hand up to shield her nose almost daintily. Nergal snarls and spits out a few words as the watermelons fly near him, withering them away into nothing in moments. As for the Seer behind him, on the Black dais... he isn't moving with any sort of haste, it seems, but he is simply not where the watermelons can touch him by the time they land.

The air sings sideways for a split second, and then (nearly) every rank-and-file Cultist not under Floral's spell drops like puppets with their strings cut, leaving only the Green dais untouched. Atop the mound, the robed, beckoning figure lets out a laugh of almost childlike delight. Nergal grunts, his shoulders sagging under the sudden lose of vitality, but behind him the Seer seems to have once again simply avoided the strike of negation without hurrying. Perhaps it is the reminder of who she is--or was, but Nope fails to strike at his mother with any amount of weight, leaving her untouched.

Nergal blasts at the snaring threads of Ariadne with gouts of sickly grey flame, withering them away, but a sneaker trail wraps around his legs and begins binding him before he can remove them. Once again, however, the Seer is simply not where the threads that seek for him expect him to be. He does not look towards the three figures to his right, but in the shocked silence after the first blow, his murmur is clearly audible. "Remarkable."

"Who dares--" The Mouthpiece shrieks, looking wildly around at the fallen Cultists, the sudden Heroes, the chaos of the place, before her burning gaze fixes on the Satyr, still giggling. "You--"

Beside the heroes, the red-robed Cultist--Sarah--begins scrambling away, desperate to put some room between herself and the Heroes' sudden arrival.

Spoiler: OOC
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Initiative

Ariadne: (1d20+4)[15]
Nope: (1d20)[15]
Helios: (1d20)[16]

Satyr: (1d20+20)[37]

Nergal: (1d20+10)[28]

Mouthpiece, Blind Seer, and Sarah: (1d20)[20]

Controlled Cultists: (1d20)[3]