The church is like something from another world; it’s vaulted arches and gothic eaves harken to an older age. It’s true that when the church was established it was by missionaries from Tir Tairngire. This accounts at least somewhat for it’s appearance. That group of missionaries is long since gone, it’s pious intentions stripped from them by the desperation of the Barrens like so many tattered vestments. Since then other religious groups, hailing a panoply of denominations, have tried to inhabit this crumbling vestige of the practice of faith. All have succumbed to the frantic scramble for survival that defines life on these mean streets. Those with memories long enough to recall say that the church has seen more violence than it should have a reason to, and whisper of a curse. Those with a sight for such things can verify that the old church is indeed a hotbed of spiritual energy, and that there is something menacing about it. The interior of the church is so inhospitable that the graveyard adjacent to it is more inviting. Any street youths or scavenging magicians find themselves eerily repulsed by the church and drawn to the silent rows of headstones instead. The graveyard is still in use, in fact, by a number of nearby churches looking to inter those whom their facilities can not(or would rather not) hold. Also, would be occultist Barons sneak in to hold seances among the graves, or to catch a glimps of the other world, as tho they were on a ghost tour. There is enough legitimate spiritual activity here, however, to discourage any such actual businesses models. Locals do give reports of a significant amount of pedestrian traffic into the graveyard by members of the homeless community, tho none are sure where they go since they aren’t spotted leaving. There have also been recent reports of disturbances to the graves, and of a shadowy figure skulking around the premises on especially dark nights.