   Rowen steps through the doorway into a vast chamber. Vesper follows right after. It is a grand place, or at least, once was. Greater than any Toreador ball room, the cieling climbs many many feet in the sky and room is cluttered with trash and old furnature. Three great chandeliers lie in ruins on the floor, untouched except for the cobwebs that adorn them. One, however, remains functional above their heads, the sole source of light in this morbid chamber. Rats scurry everywhere, the only sign of beastial life. Through the middle runs a river of clear, clean water, with an old wooden arched bridge spanning it. The room is absent of any bidedal life, cept these three. The river gives a scent only smelt at the beach, the salty water in the air, peircing their undead lungs. The journey, it seems a little ways more to go as he goes to the river. He pushes a small raft onto the river, as if it were a toothpick, jumping on to it, holding it steady with a large metal pole. he looks up at the two. "Welcome to the River Styx... all aboard." |
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