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Zauus entered the Blue Rose. Glass was scattered all over the floor, crunching under her feet. She hoped that she wouldn't get cut by a piece. She kept walking until she heard something like... an explosion? She braced herself. Several shards of glass flew in her direction, cutting into her arms.

She eventually toppled the bookshelf over, causing all of the dusty books to fall out of it. Oh well, she thought as she walked off. She was normally calm and collected, but right now, she was a little annoyed especially with the stinging in her arms. She continued onto the bedrooms that were behind the bookshelf.

It screamed and hit her again in the face. She shot another round without looking where she was shooting. It missed and only angered the boss. She managed to slither away a bit as she caught her breath and prepared for another attack.

BOSS HP: 8/10

The boss hit her again, swiping her to the side. In pain, Zauus got up, preparing another attack. She caught her breath and aimed for the limb of the boss. A hit! She hit the boss square in the arm, doing a bit more damage than before.

BOSS HP: 3/10

Zauus got to her feet and decided to head off before the boss decided that it didn't want to die just yet. She came face to face with an old piano. 'How quaint.' She thought. This was her next task. She had to play a tune on the old thing. She sat down and adjusted the chair before playing. She didn't know how to play, but she tried anyways.

The tune was not beautiful, but it sufficed. She lifted her hands and noticed blood on the keys. Then she looked at her fingertips. The mix of glass, splinters and piano playing caused them to be sliced open.

The old structure still held a kind of decaying grandeur. Rojand peered up at the sign, straining his eyes to make out the letters. "The Blue Rose," he muttered. Why blue, when everything else was red? It would offer shelter from the storm, and its temptation was oddly compelling. He ducked inside, stepping over the broken boards that had once blocked the ingress.

Litter and fallen boards and plaster clogged the entrance hall, and Rojand walked carefully, stepping over clumps of unidentifiable debris, navigating mostly by instinct in the darkness. He could hear creaks and groans from the building. Maybe he shouldn't be in here. He could easily imagine the ceiling caving in - first there would be a few flakes of plaster, a shower of splinters, and then the whole thing would come thundering down - no. No.Not a productive thing to envision. He concentrated on making it to the sagging doorway on the other end.

He arrived dusty and a little breathless, but uninjured.



(( 4 - You manage to make it across without any particular incident, surprisingly enough (safe) ))

It hit, and Sarviur did not know where it had come from.

He whirled. He'd been so cocky...

The bedrooms had been beautiful and luxurious once, and Rojand almost let himself be distracted by the vision in his mind's eye of what it might once have been like. He was tired, and he spent a moment looking wistfully at the beds, even thought they were filthy and rotted now; he could almost see the plush coverings and soft pillows they had once boasted.

Something rose up from the decaying carpeting behind him. He spun at the sound of creaking floorboards and got a glimpse of something blackened and awful. Splinters scratched past his cheek. He snarled at it and slammed his blade into the center of the mass. It made a creaking sound, slumped into a pile of mildewed wood and thin, rotten cloth, and ceased moving.

He picked his way carefully around it and left it to rot where it lay.