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Post by StoryGirl83 on Aug 27, 2008 21:41:11 GMT -5
Chapter Seven – The Scrying Bowl and Archemneme Back in the underworld the Warlock was working in his lair. The table near him was set up with various objects. Among them was a jar of some dark liquid and a clear bowl. The warlock was looking through an old book. Archemneme walked into the room. He looked annoyed. The warlock looked up. “How did it go?” “I got the younger witch,” Archemneme admitted. “Unfortunately his brother arrived before I could finish and then prevented me from taking the witch with me.” “So you failed?” the warlock asked bitterly. “I’m not sure,” Archemneme admitted. “I got him. He in such intense pain that he passed out, but what I do doesn’t usually cause pain . . . just confusion.” The warlock sighed. No point throwing in the towel yet. “Since this is your plan, what do you suggest?” “They will come after me soon,” Archemneme informed him unnecessarily. “It’s how they do things. I say we prepare to counter.” “In that case,” the warlock informed him, indicating the bowl, “this should come in hand. Archemneme looked down at the bowl. “A bowl?” The warlock actually smiled this time. “You will see.” He picked up the bottle and poured it slowly into the bowl. As he poured he chanted, “Give me sight through the darkest bile. Show me the faces I revile.” An image formed in the bowl of an older style, blue, six seat Mustang driving down the street toward the Halliwell manor. The warlock looked up at Archemneme. “They are going for back up.”
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Post by Deleted on Aug 20, 2019 23:30:05 GMT -5
Steve the Warlock again, I see.
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