>>5597857>>5597879It is not a difficult casting, per se. Given enough time, you WILL find them, if they are not shielded, though their PRECISE whereabouts may elude you—a direction and rough idea of distance will give you what you need to locate them. Unfortunately, even THAT requires concentration…
>14…And concentration does not come easily. The excitement of battle—and whatever violent and hungry new lust the ‘greater demon’ outside awoke within you—keeps you in a state of discomfort and unease, provoking the ire of your divine affliction. It takes you a not-inconsiderable time t find the meditative focus needed to properly cast the divination magic.
“Superior One,” Halle hisses to you in the True Speech, shaking you out of your reverie JUST as you intuit the way to your desired reunion. “Superior One!”
“WHAT?!” you snap, feeling rather perturbed by now.
The Infiltrator recoils slightly, then huffs. In a tone of practiced deference, and with a stiff bow of her head, she says: “The guards… Someone must have managed to alert them, or a patrol has come by this way. The Hawksong City Guard are here.”
You and the Silkscale female creep to the glassless window of the room you commandeered to serve as a chamber of concentration, and you move the hanging fabric curtain just enough to peer outside. Indeed, you can see a pair of torchbearers clad in leather and iron, shortswords on their hips and crossbows on their backs, helmed with the unmistakable round-helms of the local constabulary. There ARE only two, and you sense nothing magical about the two humans, so your instinct is that they must be simply a surprised patrol… But the many bodies scattered about have obviously provoked alarm in the pair. They draw weapons, casting their eyes about and you can hear the distant mumble of (you would assume) the two debating as to whether to investigate or call for back-up.
“Want me to go drain ‘em dead, babycakes?” Irinnile asks in a silky-smooth whisper that brushes past the lobe of your ear, sending a tingle down your spine.
You glance over your shoulder, surprised at how easily the demoness snuck up on you. She is close—VERY close—and she has materialized something like a sexual parody of the Green Knight’s former armour—decorated with image of sensually-coiled dragons, and with hearts and symbols that seem to allude to genitalia, covering shoulders and extremities while leaving cleavage and midriff on display, hugging her excitedly-swaying rear.
