[center][hider=Witch Hunt Cast][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/M7SP0oU.png[/img][/center] [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/FGD7pKH.png[/img][/center][/hider][/center] [center][i][h1]Augury[/h1][/i] [i][h3]Part 2[/h3][/i][/center] [center][b]Location: Lachance Stronghold Exterior – Henderson, Nevada Time: 2 p.m., Present Day[/b][/center] [hr] Marie and Holt arrived at the Lachance Family Stronghold after an hour of searching. It was well hidden even in the desert landscape along the lakeside, likely the work of protective enchantments. The exterior was just as the faeries had described, an unassuming shack with broken boards falling from the windows, slightly obstructing the view from the outside, rusted tin palettes running along the side of the building, some propped against the eroded wooden walls, some actually nailed to the roof to cover large holes that had been left by years of neglect. The interior wasn’t much better. Inside were several dusty, rotten shelves and tables with crooked frames and broken legs, just stable enough to support what few artifacts still dared to fill them. The curtains were faded and moth eaten, flowing in the breeze that poured in from exposed areas in the ceiling and between boards in the walls. It came as no surprise that the floor was little more than arid dirt with a few bits of tarp that were likely blown off the walls and ceiling during a storm. Marie moved carefully over the debris, dusting off the bottom half of her dress after rubbing against the wall to avoid stepping on shards of glass from an adjacent window. [color=ffe4b5]”Is this really the entrance to a witches’ stronghold?”[/color] Marie uttered skeptically as she made her way to the only other room in the shack, hidden behind a door that, like everything else, was falling off its hinges and bearing holes that spoke of past conflict. Holt remained atop Marie’s shoulder as a raven, eyes scanning the room for anything of interest. [color=90ee90][i]It is certainly inconspicuous, much to the witches’ delight I’m sure.[/i][/color] Marie nodded. [color=ffe4b5]”I guess it makes sense. Who would think to disturb the remains of something this far gone?”[/color] She carefully moved the door to the side, which let out an unnervingly high-pitched squeal as the hinges fought to fold in on their rusted nails. The other room looked much the same as the first, but with less dust. At the far end a large sheet had been draped over what Marie assumed was the mirror spoken of by the fey. Sure enough, as she peeled back the white sheet, Marie unveiled a tall, ornate oval mirror with beautiful golden vines snaked around its outer edges. Next to the mirror was an end table, atop which was an inscription in a language Marie recognized but couldn’t name. [color=ffe4b5]”What is this script?”[/color] Marie asked Holt, tracing the inscription with her fingers. [color=90ee90][i]An old fey dialect used in the lower regions of France. The witch hunts in France brought to light many of their ancient traditions; you would likely have seen this in one of the books in Puck’s collection.[/i][/color] Marie took a closer look, soon realizing that she did indeed recognize the old dialect. To her surprise, she effortlessly recited the inscription word for word, the sound of it like the rushing of wind through dense trees and the sharp crackle of lightning. Suddenly, the mirror began to hum in response, Marie’s reflection soon replaced by the swirl of dark clouds. The clouds receded to reveal a long hallway with rows of doors on either side. There seemed no separation between the room in which Marie stood and the image in the mirror. Sounds and smells of this other place began to fill the desert shack. Marie turned to Holt whose eyes advised caution, but who nodded to confirm her silent inquiry. They stepped into the mirror and turned to see the shack fade into a reflection, the portal closing and becoming a simple mirror once again. Marie turned to face a double door that stood at the end of the hallway, likely the dwelling of Genevieve Lachance or some large ritual/communal space for the witches. Unsure of how to feel in such a situation, she walked forward, broom in one hand, luggage in the other, and entered through the imposing door. [hr] [center][b]Location: Homewood Suites Hilton – Las Vegas, Nevada Time: 9 p.m., Present Day[/b][/center] [hr] Marie strode into the lobby of the hotel, Holt trailing behind unseen. She masterfully hid herself behind a family bringing in their luggage so as not to be stopped by the desk clerk. It probably wasn’t unusual to receive the odd visitor to a resident or guest, but she wasn’t in a mood for too much unneeded interaction. She was feeling another strange mixture of emotions and wanted only to focus her attention on those who truly needed it. Her meeting with the Lachance matriarch went better than expected. Marie expected that she’d be thrown out for her intrusion, but the witches welcomed her with open arms, commending her for her mastery of the craft and her ability to open the door to their stronghold. She waited in the glamorously decorated ritual space for around an hour before finally meeting with Genevieve. The two had a long conversation about the recent Hounds attack, Marie taking the time to pass on the message sent by her fey informants. Genevieve, a relatively young woman to be a powerful matriarch, around 36 or so, received the faeries’ pleas warmly, assuring Marie that the Witch-Mother was hard at work finding a solution. They then held an in depth conversation of the Witch-Mother and her involvement with The Five Families, the conversation stretching on for so long that they had time enough for tea and dinner. Marie was fascinated by the stories Genevieve told of how The Five had built their strongholds and how Hekate had managed to unite them in the past few years. Their history was astounding, and though Lady Lachance was obviously leaving out a few details, Marie was still in awe at their rise to power in Nevada. Their meeting concluded with an invitation from the witch to stay in the stronghold for as long as she needed. Marie was reminded of the generosity of the German witches in New York and that of the solitary witches of Lost Haven. She was led to a lavish room by one of the Lachance heirs, a handsome boy around Marie’s age. That room put any hotel or luxury resort to shame and had far greater amenities. But that wasn’t all the night had to offer . . . Upon receiving the arrival message from Ben, Marie fell into a trance, recalling an image of her early days. An intricate box formed in her mind’s eye, dubbed the “Sight” by Gwyneth’s echoing voice. When she came to, Marie realized that she had received a vision of Gwyneth’s next artifact, and this time the image was clear, albeit still incredibly vague, but she had reason to believe that she was on the right track, that Gwyneth’s “Sight,” whatever that may be, was near. Now, pacing around the hotel lobby, Marie pulled out her phone and sent a message to Ben, informing him of her arrival to the hotel, though she assumed that he had likely felt her presence the moment she entered. Whatever doubt she felt before in aiding Ben and the other magicians, at least now she had some incentive. Having Ben already in Vegas made the search for the next item that much easier, and her newfound relationship with the Lachance witches would give her access to the city’s magical resources, perhaps even an audience with the Witch-Mother herself. Marie waited eagerly for Ben’s response, heart racing in dread, joy, and above all, anticipation.