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We met at a house that we had broken into. A local magician had been studying books of African magic, and had summoned six elephants to do his bidding. The elephants were small and weak, like his magic, but their presence was difficult to explain away and they would only grow stronger over time. Each one bore a name engraved on its forehead. He had named them for the six principalities of Rome. We were going after Scipio.

Steve, the arch-mage for whom I was working at the time... well, hang on. In real life, Steve is a United States Marine and really good fry cook. I worked with him in a restaurant in Fenwick Island, Delaware a long time ago. Now he's killing Syrian insurgents who try to sneak into Iraq and kill American and Iraqi civilians to further their own end. In my dream, Steve was my arch-mage. And Steve had studied Aztec magic. He had the aspect of Jaguar naturally, and so killing the elephants was in his nature. He and I and Bill broke into the house to take care of Scipio.

Steve grabbed Scipio around the neck and held him up against the wall of a shower stall. Bill and I took out candles, lit them, and each chanted a few words of an Aztec spell while Steve whispered the descant. The elephant disintegrated in his hands. Mixed dry beans rattled and rained down into the empty shower stall, as well as shreds of newspaper, each with six drops of blood on them. The shreds blew around in the vacuum created by the elephant's disappearance and Steve cursed -- by which I mean he muttered "shit" or some other word -- and urged me and Bill to pick up the pieces and every last bean.

"Destroying the golem elephants calls the magic back to him. He'll know we've killed Scipio, and my friends are out killing the others. If he can recover the beans or the blood -- even a scrap of the paper and one bean -- he can call his power back and become temporarily stronger."

So Bill and I gathered the beans and paper and blood, and Steve burned the paper and kept all of the beans, saving them for a spell wherein Steve would recall their power. Bill, by the way, also worked at the restaurant. Goofy-looking red-headed guy, nice as can be. Good fry cook, great line and prep cook. Bill and I cleaned up.

I was sent with a bag of chalk and a pen (and instructions from Steve) to the African wizard's house. I stepped into his foyer and saw a shadow in the corner. Because I was not a mage, his circles of protection did not alert him to the danger I possessed. I looked at his shadow in the corner, and saw that he was naked, holding only a knife (presumably to avoid his clothes or other charms revealing his position by their auras). I held up the chalk bag and the pen and said:

"I revoke your power."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I revoke your power."

"You can't just say that without having any magic behind it. It doesn't work that way. Now leave, or I'll stab you."

"Anything I tell you three times is true. I revoke your power."

Steve had armed me with a schoolyard charm -- the Truth of Three -- and a pair of tokens to amplify it. The wizard's power was weak from having lost his elephants, and since his ward spells were all designed to stop Steve, I was able to walk right up to him and disarm him. Pow.

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