How the glory of the Sanctum has fallen with the ages. In olden days, its pavement was packed with the crowd of the faithful who came to pay homage to the soothsayer who dwelt here. Zealots made the journey from distant countries for a chance to speak with the augur, perhaps even receive a blessing for their next pilgrimage. Now, silence plagues these crumbling halls. Mushrooms, black and brittle, sprout between the cracks of the stones. The sanctuary has been lost, but not forgotten. From time to time these weary stones bear witness to strange rituals dedicated to the gods of old, or other unsavory transactions. Mad prophets, gang leaders and fallen angels of all kinds know the Lost Sanctum all too well.

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