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[center][hr][b]1st Floor - Entrance Lobby[/b][hr][/center]
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A stale smelling wind blows through the door to flood the sizeable room, reaching corners it shouldn't have been able to and staying far longer than it should have.

[i]Roses there are, with stalks of flesh and petals of steel, bastions of injury and hate.[/i]

Striding forth after this wind was a being, draped in white cloth from head to toe, and in possession of more limbs than any natural being could possibly have. There were hands where there should have been feet, and feet where there should have been hands. It's skin was a disgusting shade of grey, as though its flesh had progressed past the point of rot and arrived at the demarcation of pure structural collapse. Still it strode, undeterred and seemingly without notice of its own flaws. For joints popped and creaked disconcertingly as it went, its body swaying like a scaffold whose repair was long overdue...

[i]The walls are peeling. Listen, train thine ear, and hear what secrets the dead have to tell when thou drawest near.[/i]

Eventually the demon stopped. Its hand-feet splayed out from beneath the folds of its robe, pressing firmly against the polished hardwood floor. Though it makes no sound nor movement perceptible to the naked eye, if those currently assembled listened very carefully, they would be able to hear the last notes of an oddly familiar song. Albeit one that has slowly slipped from memory.

[i]The song begins the same way it ends...

In static and silence.[/i]
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