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And to your surprise, there seem to be shapes, flailing and contorted shadows in strange, grotesque positions of ecstatic fervour - you had thought the vicinity of the Sign to be deserted, desolate wilderness - yet you can clearly distinguish lingering devotees dancing and beseeching, wailing and kneeling in its immense darkness, willing vassals and acolytes of the Sign Of The Living Death. Maybe they are just tourists?
