[GM Post] [b][color=#778da9]"...say that again, slower? I have a hard time comprehending what you've just reported."[/color][/b] "A group of people bearing the king's crest have arrived at the north gate, sir Archmage. They're demanding to see the baron immediately." Said baron was present in the room, but both him and the reporting guard clearly treated Asevor as the superior in this situation. The archmage hummed thoughtfully, performing similar gesture as he did earlier in the day as a glimmering illusory monocle formed over his right eye. Strolling to the nearest window, he took stock of the cheap-looking cart and a few riders in the yard as a few guards stood as discreetly as armed men could near it. From a quick glance, they sort of matched the description of troublemakers that recently landed Aaron Delving's fancy pants in figurative (and, to some extent, literal) shit creek. There's more mages down there than a simple delegation would normally have but none present was the one he expected to see. True, wards or artifacts could've concealed her presence, but it's not exactly the smartest move burning one's mana supply prior to confronting an archmage of his caliber. Did they assumed the trap to have been crafted by a team of artificers instead? Or maybe she actually fell to it? Asevor had a few conjectures, but nothing will be gained by endless theorizing. Time to make his move. [b][color=#778da9]"I see. Well then, I believe you should greet our guests, baron Otto. Be hospitable, would you kindly? While you're at it I shall prepare a reception they'll not soon forget."[/color][/b] Main actor including one particular Ragnar the Red. Hopefully they'll put up enough of a fight to sate the northlander's battlelust for a bit. [b][color=#778da9]"Now where had you hidden yourself, hm?"[/color][/b] ***** [i][Elsewhere][/i] There were several factors that tend to affect the accuracy of scrying. Distance matters, for one. Further away the object was the harder it was to scry. Then there's the nature of what's being scryed. Something solid, that the caster knew of, and if possible had interacted with before? Easy. A vague thing like something that's yet to even happen? Might as well take some psychedelic. And finally, how much someone else invested to prevent said scrying from happening. Well, there's a few dozen more minor ways that a scry could be altered, it wasn't the most reliable form of magic. But for this particular case, Antigone had the deck stacked sufficiently in her favor. Not like it helped her sour mood, but still. [b][color=#33FFF7]"Right here, drop the hook and make sure it reaches the bottom. I'll be right back."[/color][/b] The duchess gazed the water with disgust. Even though they're already a bit out into open ocean, the sewage from the entire city still stank to an unbearable degree. And of course she had to dive straight into it. Really. The things she'd do for dear old Freddy. [b][color=#33FFF7]"By the endless hells, I'm not getting paid enough for this. Darksight. Elemental Guard. Stoneskin. Waterbreath. Isolation. Flight. Mage's Hand. Detect Magic."[/color][/b] Antigone's figure floated off the ship before hovering over the waterline, and finally plunged in like a rock. A thin layer of protective screen covered her figure as she descended, though the physical feel of the sludgy water clinging to her clothes brought icky goosebump all over her body. It's all getting thrown into the furnace after this, cleaners be damned. Just the memory it carried was something she wouldn't tolerate. It wasn't that deep yet, so Antigone quickly reached the bottom. With a gesture the hook lifted off the bottom and floated behind her, and after another gesture she found her direction. She found the target not too far off, a vaguely humanoid lump of metal that was slowly being pushed off by the river's flow. It looked completely inert at the moment, but to Antigone's enhanced sight there's still sign of magical activity looping in the core. Thank the ancestors that this didn't take long at all. Attempting to pull him up with the Mage's Hand spell broke the magic, the golem core hungrily devouring the mana. Annoyed, Antigone had to heavily overcast the spell to fortify it against intrusion before finally being able to manhandle the inert yet still ornery golem. The hook and rope was wound around and secured around the frame, and once done she tugged it thrice to signal the crew to began pulling. As the rope grew taut and Henri's figure slowly rose from the depth, the duchess' thought were only occupied by how long a bath she'll need to take to wash off the sensation of filth. Some court mage work this turned out to be. Was it too late to reconsider a different career? ***** [i][Back to Fanghorn][/i] Past the blocked road the party went, cutting through the grassland as they travel north. From there it took a small loop to change course straight for the fort gate, a number of men could be seen cutting and slashing and digging out the knee-high growth of bramble outside the stone walls. It didn't take long for someone to approach them, and just as swiftly they're sent back carrying words that the king's heralds came for a visit. From there their path was uninterrupted, the bramble before the gate had already been cleared just enough for passage, up until they went up the hill and into the fort's compound proper. Words had it that the baron's being informed and proper welcome were arranged. The wait wasn't long, nor were there inspections of any kind. A manservant soon enough came to lead the party inside while a stable boy offered to take care of the horses, all under the subtle but constantly watchful gaze of the guards. [i]What would you do?[/i]