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The Red Death has long ravaged the countryside. Already nearly half of the population has died off. It starts with sharp pains, followed by bleeding from the pores. The scarlet marks it leaves upon your body, notably the face, leaves you without the sympathy of your fellow man. No soul has survived an encounter with the Red Death.
I invited a thousand of my most trusted advisors, knights and dames of my court to come to an abbey where we may pary and make merry to wait out the epidemic.
One night, I held a masquerade. It was held in seven rooms of the abbey. The first was blue with blue windows, next was purple with purple windows. Then green, orange, white, followed by violet. The last room was black, with scarlet windows.
At the end of this room was a great clock of ebony. It's bells struck once per hour. At each striking, the orchestras, the masqueraders, everyone would seize all movement.
At the chiming of midnight, I noticed a strange figure. A dark cloaked man. I pursued him that he may be killed for entering my masquerade.
But I was too late. By the time we reached the final room, he had turned on me. He was the Red Death. He came like a thief in the night, and sought to take away our lives. Everyone was killed, and The Red Death continued his deadly reign.
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