"You run through a moonlit garden in the shadow of a mansion. There's a hole under a wall, and you slip into some kind of cellar. You catch your breath.
You turn and peek at the moon through the bricks and roots...
Not a face of a corpse, but a corpse of a face, worn by a monstrous corpse of a person. Almost a skull, but not really - torn, rust-colored, with gaping expressionless holes for the eyes and nose.
With just enough traces of life and flesh for it to be classified as a "face"
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You turn and peek at the moon through the bricks and roots...
Backlit by the moon, obscured by the high collar and the wide old-fashioned hat, the face of death is before you.
With just enough traces of life and flesh for it to be classified as a "face"
Neither of them will be able to crawl through the hole, but no matter - for them, you are as good as dead in this part of the mansion."