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Manufacturer: Free League Publishing
Lit by guttering candles, the timeworn saint's shrine still reeks of burnt offerings. Plaster dust floats in the still air as you smash away a mosaic depicting a wondrous healer tending wounds with a honeyed touch - eyes become bright and clear, limbs vital rather than withered, the dead rise from their graves and dance about him. As the mural crumbles beneath your determined blows, a blackened iron door is revealed, decorated with the image of a bee. The air beyond is stale, yet tinged with the putrid smell of spoiled meat and something oddly floral...