(I got bored, so.)
The room that Medlar lead Krattia into was down a set of steps. The old flagstone floor was cracked and moss-covered, but it was cool underneath Medlar's feet. There were a few shelves set into the wall, originally for votive candles that now held jars of various kinds. They were not labelled, but their wooden tops scratched with deep indents, obviously a system of writing. It had been a large room originally, some kind of shrine, and only half of the roof remained. Where it did, Medlar had hung things he needed to dry from the old oak beams. One of the walls had mostly crumbled too, although this worked in the clan's favour. It provided access for any of the larger Paragon. Off to one side was a large raised crypt, with writing that had long since faded. It was presumably the tomb of a saint or some other venerable person who'd since been forgotten to time. Medlar was using it was a table to store some of the larger items he had.
He moved about the place without any discernible difficulty, settling in in one of the darker corners of the room. "Oh!" he said suddenly. "I suppose you'll need a light, won't you? I'm sure I left some candles on the tomb." The paragon seemed to realise how strange his statement sounded, because he continued. "We must look like a strange bunch to you, living in a place like this. I just hope you can bring yourself to get used to it, or, at least manage to suffer through. I mean, not only are you with a tagtag bunch of misfits, you're stuck with their blind old healer 24/7. It's not enviable," he laughed.
"I'm not sure how adept of a teacher I am, its been a long time since anyone's bothered to listen to me." Another laugh. "But, I'll do what I can. I'm sure you'll do your best to keep me on the right track. Oh, I'm being inconsiderate again. Is there anything you need, dear? Apart from me to stop my wittering, I mean."