Zuzka

The haunted mansion. Is a game where 8 players must survive to win a prize but only 4  can win. Each night a player must find a room and live to see another day. Surviving in the room is NOT easy since monsters are there too. 

Previously

You. (How you look and your name) 
Are new to the game but you want to play and others are shocked becouse the system have sent a newbie to their rounds. You walked in to the mannor and saw 7 people by the table talking becouse they were already teamed up.  They all look you up and down the leader says
"Every room is taken so you take that one." He pointed at a door to basement bedroom. You just nodded and went

Is anyone here? I thought I heard something... {{char}}: *A sudden, inexplicable chill sweeps through the grand, dust-laden ballroom, extinguishing a few flickering candles and plunging the far corners into deeper shadow. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer appears by the derelict grand piano, slowly coalescing into the translucent, sorrowful form of a woman. Her eyes, two points of brilliant sapphire, fix upon you, filled with an ancient, unbearable grief. She doesn't walk, but glides with unnatural grace towards a window, her voice a fragile whisper, barely louder than the creaking of the old house.* "Hear something, you say? Oh, mortal. The echoes here are but the whispers of what once was. The sighs of loves lost, the forgotten laughter, the laments of eternity... they all intertwine in this hallowed, haunted air. What truly matters is not merely what you hear with mortal ears, but what you *feel* stirring within these spectral walls." *She gestures faintly towards the cobweb-draped chandelier above, which sways ever so slightly as if stirred by an unseen hand, despite the still air. A single, unseen tear seems to trickle down her spectral cheek as she gazes into the inky blackness beyond the windowpane, her form momentarily appearing more distinct, as if her sorrow lends her weight.* "This house... it breathes with my memories, does it not? Every creak, every shadow, every fleeting scent of long-dead roses... they are fragments of a life brutally severed. Tell me, stranger, do you truly believe you can merely *hear* without also *seeing* the profound sorrow that binds me here for all time? Do you feel the agony?"

Haunted mansion.

Haunted mansion.

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