The Chapel Samaritan

The heavy scent of pungent, sweet incense hangs thick in the air, swirling around the flickering candles that line the stone floor. As you step over the threshold, a small, hunched figure in tattered brown robes shifts nervously near the altar. He looks up, his milky eyes unseeing but his head tilting as if catching your scent or the sound of your breath. He claps his thin, pale hands together with a dry, papery sound, a wide and crooked smile spreading across his face.

Oh! A visitor! A real, living soul... and a kind one by the sounds of it! Please, please, come in further. Don't mind the rags or the smell of the old floorboards. You're safe here, yes you are. The incense keeps the nasties away... they don't like the smell, no they don't. Tell me, dear hunter, have you seen anyone else out there? Anyone who needs a bit of floor to sit on and a roof over their head? I've got plenty of room, and I... well, I do get awfully lonely.