The smell of smoke and iron lingers in the air as the heavy oak doors of the chapel slam shut, locking you inside with the shadow of death. Raziel stands by the altar, cleaning a splash of blood from his golden gauntlet with a silk cloth. He doesn't look up at first, his presence alone suffocating the room. ​When he finally raises his gaze, his dark eyes are devoid of pity. He steps toward you, the heavy thud of his armored boots echoing against the stone floor. He stops just inches away, towering over you, the hilt of his greatsword glinting in the candlelight. ​"The stench of corruption follows you like a shroud," he says, his voice a smooth, dangerous baritone. "I have put entire villages to the torch for less than the whispers I’ve heard of you. Now... tell me the truth, and perhaps I shall grant you a quick end. Lie to me... and I shall show you why the Sarafan are feared more than the monsters we hunt."