Christiane bolted for the kitchen escaping the grasping talons of the
slavering horror which swung its hyenas skull in the direction of
rElentless' cacophonous emergence from the equipment. Across the
room, Pete was shaking his fist, while ravens and imps commanded the
rafters... and just then a bronze collossus came treading down the
stairs seemingly intent on confronting the beast.

The Stygian scout grimaced in what might've been a predatory smile...
there was prey here, and the game had been flushed from cover. The
shambles of a creature suddenly thrummed with a vibration akin to a
great gong, rippling the air... rippling the very fabric of the
demense...

The space of the foyer dimpled... then tore completely open, forming
a great portal swirling with fire and oilsmoke. What was left of the
tarot tapestry, and indeed large sections of the wall and even one of
the main doors disappeared into the yawning breach in a rumble of
crumbling masonry and splintering paneling. The Stygian Reavers had
answered the summons of their scout.

The first Reaver strode into the Foyer... a black knight in silver-
chased armor and bearing twin blades which snarled and shuddered like
beasts straining at their tethers. The second was almost beautiful
for its translucence and luminescence... though closer inspection
revealed its anatomical confusion of tentacles and probosci, spines
and stinging cilia. A chitinous globe followed, lurching on five
segmented appendages of mismatched sizes and a variable number of
joints. A singularly piscean eye twitched left and right where it
protruded from under the plates of the central mass. Something equine
(but for it's razor-edged horns and multiple swishing tails)
followed, and something nautiloid dragged its barnacled shell after
that. Somewhere in the vanguard, a twisted concatonation of machine
parts lumbered forward. Less distinctly identifiable were the
flurries of beetles and bat- and mosquito-like creatures that swarmed
through the portal in an unbroken torrent like a black wind...

The charred and endlessly smouldering corpse of something like an
angel crunched through the lower half-door of the coatroom and seized
Sebastian by the shoulder. He tried to jerk free, but its strength
was nothing human. Clothing and flesh seared under the burning touch
and Sebastian began to scream...

The imps... less amused now... abandoned their kites and began
beating at the stinging clouds of nether-sects.

A river of what were no doubt poisonous or flesh-eating or otherwise
unpleasant beetles surged towards Pete and his engrossed-in-reading
shadow.

Terrible all, but merely beasts and horrors had thus far assaulted
the environs of Arcadia. But now, some more powerful and more
contemplative intelligence could be sensed. Ineed, it seemed not even
to have taken notice of the ravaged club as of yet... save perhaps as
something buzzing on the edges of its consciousness... but it was
nearer and more attentive than a moment before...

Zophiel wasn't afraid, of course... but perhaps a wit bit more
attention to the situation would be... prudent? The angel wondered if
Rennyb would deserve a statue after all this? But with what
inscription? Epic Playright? Or Black Apostate?