You are done with the chant.
You hold your crucifix of St. Wiceraweth close and humbly mutter 'Sanctum
circum'
Surges of holy force coil around your crucifix of St. Wiceraweth forming a
radiating bolt of divine energy. You twist your wrist and bolt hurls through
the air bursting on Dread.
Dread gets an acute case of iron-poisoning.
Dread is DEAD, R.I.P.

You feel more pure and closer to Las.

You ask Abigail, the abbess about estimation of purity of thy heart.
Abbess Abigail tells you, 'What comes to purity of your heart my sister, your
wisdom is deep and skills adequate for an elder status.'

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