rave vs fomor

Andi squeezed her eyes shut and swung the door open, and I deployed the One-Woman Rave.
Channeling the strength of my will, light and sound burst from the ends of the two wands. Not light like from a flashlight; more like the light of a small nuclear explosion. The sound wasn’t loud like a scream or a small explosion, or even the howl of a passing train. It was like standing on the deck of one of those old World War II battleships when they fired their big guns—a force that could stun a full-man and knock him on his ass.
I charged ahead with a wall of sound and furious light leading the way, and burst into the hall among the scattered forms of the startled, dazed turtlenecks.
And then I started playing nasty.
A few seconds later, the scattered turtlenecks were all on their feet again, though they looked a little disoriented and were blinking. Down the hallway, one of the turtlenecks was helping Lord Froggy to his feet, his lank hair disheveled, his robes in disarray. His ugly face was contorted in fury. “What is happening here, Listen?” he demanded. He was screaming at the top of his lungs. I doubt his ears were working very well.
“My lord,” Listen said, “I believe this is more of the work of the Ragged Lady.”
“What!? Speak up, fool!”
Listen’s cheek twitched once. Then he repeated himself in a shout. Froggy made a hissing sound.


Brief Cases, Bombshells, Page 263