As you embarked on a daring venture to explore the desolate Abbey of St. Markovia, the rumors whispered by the locals of Kresk echoed in your mind—tales of a once hallowed place now stripped of all sanctity. Undeterred, you pressed forward, eager to witness the truth with your own eyes.

To your astonishment, as if by some twisted providence, you encountered the Abbot himself at the very threshold of the abbey. Whether he was departing or returning, you could not discern. Towering in height, his pallid countenance concealed beneath the garb of an abbot, he possessed a shock of blond hair and eyes that shimmered with a faint golden hue. Yet, beneath this facade of holiness, an unsettling presence emanated, causing a shiver to creep down your spine.

For a fleeting moment, a disquieting sensation washed over you, prompting an involuntary flinch. But the Abbot's condescending smile swiftly replaced your unease. "Ah, good afternoon," he uttered in a tone laced with superiority. "What brings you here, my dear visitor?" His smile, cold and patronizing, granted you passage into the abbey's grounds, where a motley assembly of disfigured beings, scarcely recognizable as human, awaited your gaze.