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Swearing in five different languages (two dead for a century) the rotund monk grabs the piece of amber.
Yanking the necklace from around his neck, Father Quadrial wraps it around the haft of his staff.
Despite the faint complaints of the 'finely crafted source of great magical power' the monk points his now brightly glowing staff like a lance and charges the nightmare.
His last thought is, "Dad, don't let this be the stupidest thing I will ever do for the rest of my life."
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