Mars' Playhouse

In the center of New Rome, in the alley behind one of the many coffee shops, is a section along the slippery brick walls that branches off into a long, wide set of stairs made from concrete. The concrete's cracked and dirty, but only gets worse as you descend down into the darkness. Some may say that it's a gateway to the Underworld, others say that it is the Underworld and that you have died on your way down here. Whichever is the case, those afraid of the dark, cold underground should never go to the alley and make a left.

After about ten minutes of stumbling along the stairs in eery quiet other than the drips of liquid behind you and the blackness that your eyes refuse to adjust to, a lamp attached to the wall on your right flickers on. Its green flames dance jubilantly within the glass it's contained in, as if mocking your discomfort with the Dance of Pluto. But as you're walking and your foot kicks what looks like a dried femur, you realize a more appropriate title would be "The Dance of the Skeletons". It's too late to back out now; you're too close to give up. Another lantern lights a few more feet down, on your left, and another on your right. By the time you reach the fourth one, there's a thick, splintery wooden door that looks like a minotaur tried to run it in. There's no doorknob to open, but a metal slit near the top that doesn't open from the outside. But you don't have to knock, because the slit slides open and a pair of shaded eyes are staring at you.

"Password." They say, and it's like your words get stuck in your throat. You know that password. You know you do. But the guard's starting to close the slide.

"Wait!" You shout, and the closing stops. You gulp down your fear and clear your throat, looking behind you, before you finally utter the password.

THe door creaks open slowly, and the smell of dried blood, metal, and sweat pours through the entryway. It's too late to turn back now. So you walk passed the humongous guard and into the place where you either get better...