Café de Nuit

The Grand Entrance' massive two-story high entryway is lined with dark marble and thick velvety curtains and the main double staircase arches in front of you.

The stair start on the side walls and curve gently upward and angle together meeting on a large landing on the second floor. The stairs themselves are pale grey stone lined with thick red carpeting and highlighted with the polished brass railings that effortlessly catch the brilliant light of the chandelier high above your head.

But now the atmosphere is different: many servants are running in panic, trying to escape the fight to come.

Two servants, however, are not fazed at all by the chaos going on around them; they are young, black-haired men, and they enter the Entrance Hall from the servant's quarters and go quickly up the stairs...towards the Library.

An especially astute observer might note that one of them is the young man who supported van Rijn in his initial appearance in the entry hall.

Damn, so much for that idea, thinks Crow ruefully, as one of the servants falls. Without letting his full frustration show, he lashes out yet another kick... this time at the shin of the remaining servant. As the second agent of Hijn's staggers from the pain, Crow lays his free hand on the man's shoulder and unleashes the power of his readied stunning-spell by direct contact. He then turns a dirty look at the magic missles' source.

"MIghtn't you have waited until after they told me Rijn's objective?," Crow queries, raising an eyebrow at the Borcan. "They'd have assumed I was under their master's power, if you hadn't interrupted!"

OOC: The action before here moved to the Library!

The loyal member of the Fraternity gathers here after the armoury. They know most of the thugs loyal to Van Rijn are still in the Smoking Room or the kitchen.

Their main way out is the Grand Entrance Hall and they position themselves to hit hard whatever passes through the door from the kitchen to the Entrance Hall...

The three dozen or so loyalists to the Fraternity gather in the main Lobby, their eyes on the northern doors that lead to the kitchens and the Smoking Room. It is from there the attack will come.
The traitorous Erik van Rijn and his band of fallen brothers, spies and mind-controlled hold their position in the Smoking Room dealing with its defenses and planning their next move.

There are but two ways up to the second floor, the entry hall you know occupy and the small side-staircase by the Laboratory and Armoury.

The scant weapons supplied are passed among you along with small brass coins, the tokens that protect you from the Manoir’s defenses. Already you can hear some small scuffling above as a minor brawl is erupting outside the Library.

Continue," van Rijn rasps. "Into the passageway." Filing quickly into the passageway, the invaders pass through the kitchen and find the doorway to the grand entry hall.

"They'll be hear ahead of us," van Rijn mutters. "We'll need to rush them and see what we can do. But first...well, hold back. There's one thing I wish to try. You two," he says, pointing to the zombies so recently animated. "In front of me."

With a muttered word, a thin green ray streaks from van Rijn's hand and strikes the doorway to the Grand Entry Hall. The door and a good three feet of stone on either side of it disappear into dust, revealing the surprised faces of those assembled on the other side.

"Wait," van Rijn mutters. "One more spell..."

Suddenly, the front ranks of the defenders are lifted into the air by some invisible force, then slammed again to the ground.*

"NOW! CHARGE!" van Rijn screams, his face a mask of hate.

*reverse gravity Any spells those in the hall cast will probably take place at the same time as this effect.

Her heart raced as the loyalists took position in the Lobby. In the space of a handful of hours the awe she’d had upon entry was now forgotten, and the beautiful surroundings were being considered merely for their use in defenses. “Please, can someone tell me the layout of this mansion? I hadn’t time to look earlier…”

These were whispered to her until they heard the approach of the invaders. Silence descended, except for quiet incantations around her. She considered her own protections, but waited. She had little magic available to her, and would need every spell that she had, feeble as they seemed to be.

She gasped as the door evaporated and brought up a dagger only in time to be tossed in the air like a leaf. Unlike a leaf, she did not flutter down, but tumbled heavily, grateful for the Pharazian carpet beneath her, which cushioned the worst of her fall.

She rose to her knees, and flung a dagger at the traitor.

Unfortunately, in the turmoil it's easy to miss any one individual, and with ranks of invaders pressing forward before their master, aiming at van Rijn proves well-nigh impossible. Gertrude's knife strikes someone in the front rank, who doesn't even react to the blow--his glassy eyes and stumbling pace hint that he no longer has cares for this world, but he marches forward regardless.

Most of the invaders are armed with daggers or cane swords, although one enterprising fellow has a spear and shield at the ready.

Van Rijn shouts, "Forward! Forteleza superiore en omnes*!"

*mass bull's strength on fifteen of the invaders in the front ranks
*all affected by the reverse gravity took 1d4 damage (less damage because they're falling onto carpet)

Donovan quickly discovers that charging a mass of armed people is not quite what he had expected; they do NOT step aside to let him attack van Rijn freely, instead readying their weapons and attempting to puncture his skin as he approaches. He dodges two blows easily before a blank-faced man with a cane sword stabs him.

(I rolled three attacks; two attacks were obvious misses, then there was an adjusted 21, which I figure almost certainly hits. Donovan takes 9 points of damage. If you want me to roll an attack for Donovan, I certainly can.)

Chills went down her spine as she saw the animated corpse which took her blow. “May you rot in a hell of your own making,” she whispered under her breath at the necromantic wretch.

She vanished from sight; she knew little about the creatures, but doubted they had any refined sense of smell or hearing to pick her out in this chaos. Thank heavens I didn’t wear scent tonight, she thought.

“Gentlemen, if any of you are armed with conjurations, I believe it would be a good time to avail yourselves of them…”

OOC: Invisibility for four minutes

Terrence laughs at the sucess of his master van Rijn.

"Finish the fool off!" he cries.

With a snear he conjures up a mystical Web to ensnare the 'loyalists' in front of him. That should allow the Invaders to march over the fools!

"Fool?" Donovan mutters trying to stagger away from the undead beasts and their necromantic master. He'd go to the armoury, get a really big sword, and then he'd show them!