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   An under lit chamber, which appeared more like a vault than a room, overflowed with ancient artifacts, weapons, and canes capped with onyx stones.  Bookcases, embedded into several of the eight walls, brimmed with vast knowledge.  A man – seated behind sole desk – a man with great aspirations – took his amulet off and set it on an urgently marked letter.  The black oval gem, surrounded by a series of colorless diamond baguettes, beamed in the foreground of the man’s sinister smirk as it sat beside four underlined words: “The Hag is dead.”

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