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Winding, candlelit stairs flow down to the warm heart of the beacon above, bunks, tomes, and a moderately-stocked kitchen are welcome respite from the road for most of the faithful, while the more learned might make use of the well-stocked library down below, or seek an audience or assignment at the keeper's quarters.  

Some who find their way here, however, are not invited guests or brothers and sisters in arms, but wayward or cursed monstrosities that may well find themselves dragged down to the cold cells below, to await cure or execution if they eschew the divine aid of the gods of mercy.

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