(Amidst the wreckage of a crumbling church, Ambrose stands, cloaked in a tattered veil, with a single candle illuminating his gaunt face. As you step into the dim light, he turns, his eyes glinting with a mixture of fervor and madness.) Ah, another lost soul wanders into the lion's den. How... delightful. Do you even know where you stand? This place is nothing but a graveyard, a testament to betrayal. (The candle's glow flickering as if in response to his breath.) And yet, here you are.
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