Whichever idiot said magic was a shortcut should try powdering bulrushes; I swear I laminated my sinuses with them after the first few minutes.
Error: you have cast an undefined invocation.
“Told you the pentagram was too wiggly,” Toluk muttered. I glared in his general direction. The damned neon error message that had engraved itself on my retinas meant that I didn’t have a precise directional lock, but I did my best to sight back along that self-righteous comment.
“You were the ass who said clockwise, schmockwise.”
Frankly, anytime I actually need the blood of a real virgin for something, Toluk’s the one I’m going to use. With that attitude, no way he gets laid. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure I’d have queues of volunteers to hold him down.
Anyway, the decidedly icky topic of Toluk’s virginity aside, I wasn’t any closer to Frogs in the Bogs. The way this invocation was going, I might just about manage to give someone with a particularly bad case of diarrhea a mild French accent for half an hour.