The transition from "War Zone" to "Business Casual" was chaotic, wet, and involved a distressing amount of scrubbing.
Maira had given them forty-five minutes before Director Vane returned. In that time, the dungeon staff had to pull off a miracle.
In the residential quarters on Floor 2, the scene was pure pandemonium.
"Hold still!" Grika shouted, wielding a stiff-bristled brush like a weapon. "You have ghoul-ichor in your hair! It's going to stain!"
"Ow! Grika, that's my ear!" Reed yelped, trying to dodge.
He was currently standing in the center of the communal bathhouse, a massive, steam-filled room carved from obsidian. Usually, this was a place of relaxation. Right now, it was a car wash for a Dungeon Lord.
