Slow clapping can be heard amidst the chaos from a man who stands a relatively safe distance away - and one who has not raised so much as a finger to help, neither against the mimic itself nor to come to the aid of the fleeing faefolk (who really had it coming a few dozen times over by now, in his personal opinion).

"I daresay we were well overdue for some pyrotechnics," he says, offering a wide, lazy shrug. His dress is modest - black robes and a scowling red mask hanging about his neck. Atop his head is an impressive set of horns which may go some way towards explaining his slouched posture.

"You might wish to be just a touch more gentle with them, however. Some of the residents are rather fond of the fae and will likely not take well to their slaughter - irritating as they are."