Food Crisis

[rassafraggin]

Prior to the dive with the shards, chirping and strange egg business. Sometime after an altercation with a strange dude named Gerath aboard Ashby's fine vessel...

The here-ish is the Wave Dancer, Maggie's ship. And Ruby is coming up from belowdecks just coming off a heated conversation with Gerath. She's looking for her comrades to spread news like nutella. She's a-huffing and a-puffing and in a state of agitation.

Merri looks to be fairly grounded at the moment, standing around on deck and sighting the horizon ahead for signs of the next node. Completely unsuspecting of the powerful influence that will come with proximity and push him up into and then out of the crows nest high above. At this time he cannot fail to hear Ruby's stamping and rumbling behind him, and so turns inquiringly while lowering the spyglass from his eye.

Ruby wipes her mouth with her wrist, perspiration beading on her ebony flesh. Fighting her flop sweat, she is on approach to Merrisol and Ashby. "Listen, there be a wee problem. Gots tah fetch something soon as Martin 'as gotten what 'e needed from this Node. Got somethin toime-sensitive." One-handed air quotes are deployed! "Tha bottomless pit on legs tha stopped by recently. Tha one takin care 'o me kid...Gerath, tha Caretaker. It was one 'o those...best case scenario in tha meantoime type 'o things. Anyways...'E let me know there be a serious problem feedin tha kid. Somethin tha 'e can't do 'imself. So it is in me lap."

Quinlan is chilling in a hammock that he fairly clearly keeps rolled up in his bag when he doesn't need it. A hammock on deck. Go fig. There a mojito in his hand, too, which is probably a testament to the amount of worry and stress going on, since he generally doesn't drink. "We're doing a lot of multitasking, aren't we?"

Merrisol listens to Ruby blankly, while language comprehension arrives belatedly and after a couple of squinty-eyed blinks. He collapses the spyglass with a brusque snap, and shoves it into his back pocket, frowning. While he does agree with Quinlan's sentiment with a few short, rapid nods, he follows up with some disbelieving shakes of his head as well. "We were to be off to the Coastal Vales after this, Ruby, or have you forgotten about the godsdamn WAR?" And still, her words register with him further, and he chews on that concern for a moment before grating out, "What's wrong with the child? What do we need to do?"

Ruby scrunches up her face, swinging her head from side to side. "What ~ain't~ wrong with it?" She waves a hand in the air. "It always comes down tah tha basics, roight? This toime it be food. Tha kid needs supplements, an tha Nanny can't get 'is mitts on what tha child needs. Gerath went on an on about some sorta Bog-blasted thing goin on in tha upper planes or some nonsense. All them ridiculous big G's an wee G's 'E made it sound loike there's some big buffet 'o tha divine, an tha Caterers they gots gone an snapped up all tha...~ambrosia~ or somethin. Kid needs some or somethin 'orrible 'appens. Gerath can't get anywhere near this big Meeting on account 'o bein...whatever 'e be, or crossed in tha past. Could care less except some'ow it falls upon me tah ~liberate~ some 'o these special food. Worst part is...I think whatever this Party is, they ain't gonna just let me walk in. An tha worstest part moight be...Gerath let slip tha there be adversaries attendin tha Meetin tha ~are~ involved in tha godsdamn war. On-tha-other-siiiide."

Diana is nearby. She is either always looming or simply hidden. Rarely, it seems, does she follow any ship etiquette about busy hands. “They would likely recognize you, and stop you for that, but what if I could change you?” She probably means a fresh haircut and new clothes. Probably.

Melina comes forward with all the nose "I had a plan for that, but it was complicated and requires something I don't have have at the moment so I'm at a loss here

Merrisol backs up sideways until his butt finds the rail to sit against. Because the gist of what Ruby is rambling is outrageous enough to require a seat. "You want to crash a fancy dinner party for a... a pantheon of assheads? More than that.. a.. cross-pantheon mixer... to what, snatch a plate of their vittles? Is that all?" Might be a touch tricky to know if he meant that last question sarcastically or sincerely. "I mean, we won't be taking the opportunity to lob a grenade?" Ah, sincerity. Also, he said "we". The submariner looks over at Diana thoughtfully, and then Melina quizzically. "You had a plan to break into a godly hangout before?"

Ruby is just so flustered and agitated. But she's slowly coming around after a few deep breaths. Surely everyone chiming in with offers and observations is having a remarkable positive effect. She blinks rapidly, looking somewhat earnestly around at those gathered. "I don't know 'ow tah properly say this...but as bad as this all sounds, some 'ow you loike them loife preservers in soight after bein swept overboard, Truth." She runs a hand raking through her hair, eyeing Diana. "Truth? You could increase tha chances 'o passin for somethin else? I mean...tha'd be fan-tas-tic!" Her eyes go squinty as she rapidly blinks like she's got too much eyeball moisture. To Melina she beckons the Chantris. She beckons to everyone to pow-wow. "Gods ain't all tha smart, roight? Surely there be a way tah use all our smarts an skills tah get past a bunch 'o...what Merri said...Patheon 'o arse'eads. Wouldn't tha be a feat. Grenades or no. Aye, maybe not just for godly supple-ments...maybe it worth tha risk if there be more than one objective, roight?"

Melina nods "I did though grenades weren't exactly on my agend. As I understand our enimies intend to lobby for support for an all out bloodwar on amber. apparently some of them haven't made up their minds and we have potential allies in the mix that think we might be able to shift opinion. if we resort to violence that will certainly solidify things in the wrong direction and the other shadows will follow suit because will give truth to the lie

Maggie has been helping on the forecastle, for surely Mr. Anderson does not need her to be there Spotting the gathering of friends and family, she leaves the man to his devices and walks over to the group. As she nears, she hears some of the discussion and slows. Soberly and silently, she moves closer to the group to listen and subtly volunteer assistance.

"The royal palace of Amber qualifies as a hangout of gods," remarks Quinlan, sleepy and very dry, from his little swinging hammock. "Just because you deal with them fairly frequently doesn't mean the Elders aren't very frequently mistaken for and worshipped as gods." He sips his mojito, and adds thoughtfully, "And a grenade would probably improve the place immensely."

Merrisol's overall bristliness over the whole topic cools off somewhat as Melina speaks of peace and reason, although he still drawls, "And what lie is that? I'll stand up for Amber, but not because I think Amber is innocent or anything close to the underdog in this feud." He notes the commentary from the hammock with an appreciative smirk, and then sees Maggie sidling up. His demeanor grows serious again, his smile to her subdued and apologetic. "No grenade lobbing. Gathering intel seems the real side benefit of this food raid, really," he says to the others. "I don't trust any god enough to count them as allies. That doesn't include the Amberite Elders mainly because bringing any of them is just like bringing a grenade."

Ruby tongues her back molars to stimulate thought, or at least appear to be having a deep thunk. "Gerath said this place...Fascist Fundy...Crashix Tumbly...whatevah it is, it ain't just a 'angout. It be tha equivalent 'o Amber Court toimes Bog knows 'ow many toimes. I trust all 'o yous...I don't trust none 'o tha Elders tah follow any sort 'o plan we 'atch. They tha old guard anyways...they don't gots our flexi-bility 'o thought. They as set in their ways as any 'o Begman clockwork. Our gene-ration be tha only 'ope we 'ave for savin Ambah, warts an all."

Melina says, "when i talk about amber i don't mean the crown> I mean everyone else. our generation the people that rember we've got one foot in amber, one foot somewhere else. They've not only forgotten the far shadows but the circle, houses and our enemies our angling to obliterate everyone on the blood is the wrong direction. we all know what it's like to be screwed over and all our would be enemies need to understand that"

Returning Merrisol's smile, Maggie still listens to the others. Quinlan is rewarded with a smile of his own, though she does not comment just yet. For an instant she looks back to Merrisol, a nod indicating her agreement. Looking back to Ruby, she slides her hands into her pockets as she murmurs, "Warts and all..." Then more loudly, she muses, "I suspect that I would be recognized as well." Perhaps her hands have been intentionally trapped in her pockets so she refrains from touching her hair. It has grown out some since... Well, since then. But it is still not as long as it used to be, once upon a time, not so long ago. Glancing to Melina, she inclines her head, "Agreed. But getting anyone else to understand that or care about the distinction may be difficult. There are a lot of people out there who see the blood and believe that Oberon's flaws are ours. Or, in my case, dad's madness is also mine because we share blood." After a pause, she adds, "Could you change me, too? Or shall I send word to an alchemist I know asking for a... What was it called, Kerf?" She refocuses on her husband, "A gender-bender potion"

Quinlan laughs. "Oh. You want to see what you'd look like as a guy? Sure. Just a moment then." He doesn't get up from his nice comfy hammock, but he does flick his fingers in a sort of magical looking way at Maggie. Oh, the power of glamour. The lady's now a dude...well, unless you're into manhandling dudes.

Merri looks with some surprise at Melina again, having not expected to hear those sentiments coming from the government gal, or so he still believes her to be. He turns to Maggie, confusion over her own words quickly dawning into understanding. His frown deepens... until he’s startled into a chuckle. “Uhh, might need more than a gender switch.. we need a whiff of Eau d’Immortality...” He’s smiling bemusedly at her, even as the illusion takes shape, making him blink in surprise... again! Quinlan!

(So....looks like she'd be a bit taller, swimmer-sort of musculature, hair same color but now short and maybe a bit spiky on top. Like a round-eared wood-elf pirate.)
(er. Elder Scrolls wood elf.)
(features still sharp, but slightly more squared, broader shoulders but not much more. Just enough to sell 'guy' over 'androgyne'.)

“I can.” Diana says. “If is more than a glamour, you would be a new person... but it can be unpleasant. If you are confident that the illusion will hold up?” She gives a shrug of her thin shoulders, pale birdlike appendages shaking. “Then you should use those as a means to enter.” She does not, as a rule, seem shocked by the spell. Tired and hungover? Almost certainly.

Maggie turns startled eyes over to her cousin and lifts his chin, "What..." One hand lifts from her pockets to his throat, "Wait." His voice is lower, resonant with undertones that are similar to Maggie's normal voice but shifted to suit a man's anatomy. His eyes, still that emerald green, flash to Merrisol. Clearly torn between amusement and trepidation, she half laughs, "Uh. How do I look?"

Quinlan laughs quietly, swaying in his hammock, sipping his mojito like this isn't a shiny new kind of chaos. "Well, there are limitations. Karm candles will wipe that right out. Someone gets into a fistfight with you, the glamour will shake off. And of course using iron to test it will banish it. The right magics could make the change real, but that would hurt, so it's probably a good idea to decide where your line is in advance. In the meantime, enjoy the genderflip. It'll wear off in an hour or two if you don't dispel it."

Merrisol is nonplussed for a long moment, considering the presentation of a Male Maggie with a studious slant to his expression. "It's a good disguise," he presently declares, though he shakes his head as well. "Kind of looks like you, still, and yet, effectively, you're a stranger." He continues to shake his head more slowly, taking a deep breath to cope with the weirdness of that concept. "Good thing I'm aware it's you under there I guess, Hotstuff," he winks, smirking, before addressing Diana and Quinlan. "Illusion or uh.. more hands-on magics.. which would pass in a room full of gods?"

Quinlan yawns and sips his drink. "Depends on the gods," he says. "A god of magic, or intellect, or wisdom, or illusions? You're screwed. A trickster? Definitely screwed. But a god of war, or agriculture, or smithcraft...probably safe. That's the thing about gods. They're a lot like the Elders. I would not try to wear a glamour to slide by Caine - be a great way to get an iron knife in the ribs 'just to be sure'. But I could probably have worn one around Benedict, or Eric. The more straitlaced a being is, the harder time they have seeing through an illusion."

“You will not like the answer.” Diana says. “The safer course would be the ones most easily recognized to stay away.” She smiles flatly. “Beyond that, I would say that the options solely come down to preference. Both come with some risks.”

The complications described are all rather interesting as an exercise in subterfuge logistics, to Merri's thinking. He takes to studying Maggie again, now regarding her new stature narrowly and testing it with a careful head pat preceded by a "May I?". How odd, the feel of her hair really being there at her new height. "Suppose the biggest unknown factor here is... what the hell do gods look like when they're not slumming amongst us? Because if we walk in there even carefully disguised as some other human, and there's a clubhouse full of glowing shades of the colour green gazing back at us, the jig is definitely up."

OOC the illusion covers physical interaction?
OOC Apparently. Just not rough treatment or iron. And has to remain within Quinlan's immediate vicinity.

“Now I cannot help but wonder what I look like as a man.” Diana says lightly

Quinlan manages to swing himself to a sitting position on his hammock, studying Diana. "The trick is not to go overboard," he says. "Shorter hair - traditional masculine cuts are usually shorter." Says the mage with shoulder-length waves. "A slightly stronger cast of features - enough to shift you out of 'pretty' and into 'handsome'. Flatten the chest, add a bit of breadth to the shoulders and bulk to the arms and legs, straighten out the curves. I mean yeah. I could make you look like anybody, but the farther I go from who you really are, the harder an acting job you have to do to sell it. So, a little taller - enough to make you an average height guy - but not so tall you're wondering where your own apparent head seems to be to everyone else." He flicks his fingers at Diana, enacting the changes. "What do you think?"

Ruby is back to rubbing parts of her face, smearing the skin around in a very limited mundane sort of way, as she considers these options. "We'd better come up with layers 'o deception. I 'ear gods an Gawds 'ave some bloody way tah recognize their own. Maybe they smells a certain way. Maybe it skin deep. Maybe it a bunch 'o things. If I dare go I gonna submit tah Diana's flesh surgery for a start. Maybe if we got on enough layers 'o stuff, loike those bloody perfumed foo-foo's in Court...it enough tah get past God eyes, God noses, God tongues...whatever they gonna do. If we gonna try tah pass as divine...I guess that means we better start dreamin up mask-er-aidin as a god 'o...somethin. Bloody 'ell, we don't have to think up our own bloody pantheon do we? Is there a thing loike ~God 'o scowls?~ I think I could get close tah tha."

"Ah, I misspoke." Diana acknowledges. "It is inherently more interesting to see what /you/ think I would look like as a man. Though if that is the qualification used..." She smiles, or he smiles rather, adjusting her clothes to check the illusion against what she knows to be true. "Well, it's less interesting but likely more effective." She looks toward Merrisol and Ruby, "Well, perhaps some reconnaissance is in order. Allow me to take a few of you in the hunt of dreams. Find a spokesman, or a recognizable persona of these grand banquets and see what we can draw from their sleeping minds."

Raphaela is leaning somewhere out of direct line of sight, peeking over to see what is this genderswapping talk. Pale eyes fall on Maggie and she palms her face, rubbing it. Fuck it. More redheads. Damn you, Quinlan, how is she supposed to focus?

Quinlan mulls over Ruby's concerns. "I agree, layers of deception are probably the best way to go. And for starters....maybe don't try to get in as gods. Maybe...go as demigods. Then it's excusable if you don't have quite the same traits as a god, but you still have a stated interest in wanting to be there?"

Standing straight, he-who-is-Maggie quirks a brow at Merrisol's query but replies with a lower than normal, "Of course." He side-eyes as Merrisol's hand floats above where he thinks his hair is but understands that the image is higher than reality. "How odd." Turning as Ruby re-centers on their discussion, he lifts a wave that barely avoids the finger flutter that Maggie might have used. Listening, he watches Diana shift to the masculine form she might have had if genetics had fallen out differently and smiles, "You're a good looking guy, D." Calling a guy 'Diana' seems off, somehow. Looking back at the others, he adds, "I agree. Illusion by itself is probably not enough. And I am finished with this one, Quinlan. If you would dispel it, I would appreciate it."

melina considers "according to sullivan ruby is correct they can scent the blood of oberon. he came up with the idea of rendering royals temporarily dead through a ritual. i don't know if anyone else can do that, though

Quinlan's eyebrows go up. "Really. Temporarily dead. Anyone remind Sullivan lately that the blood of Oberon has severe trust issues? Why not mask the signature with something else? Magical equivalent of too much aftershave." He nods to Maggie, letting his glamour dissipate. Maggie is Maggie again. He smiles. "The thing about being...well, me... is one of the things i know is you really don't have to overthink a lie. And in most cases, it's better not to."

Raph does her best not to look dissapointed. Maggie was one hot dude. "Sullivan is fun." She considers. Again. Raph is not very normal, once you've stopped and thought about it clearly. "Lies are easily traceable. Bending truth is better."

Maggie nods to Quinlan, "Thanks." She turns her attention to Melina and blinks, "Uh. That sounds... Yeah, I think that I'll pass. I am sure that Sullivan would return me to full life, but there are just too many questions to answer before attempting such a thing." She then turns to Raph and Quin. "Well..." Her tone turns thoughtful, "I... I wonder if I could pass as someone who has renounced Amber. I did get a glimpse into their ... what. Space? Shadow? Maybe I could convince them that Amber and I are through. Since I am almost never seen in Amber proper, I might be able to pull it off."

Quinlan grins at Raphaela. "Yeah, he is, but he can overthink things. And yes. The best lies are at least partly true. So. Don't remove the scent of Oberon. Borrow a godly nose...and then add something to make the scent seem like something else." He mulls the problem over and then asks, "How many generations out? I mean...Oberon himself, given. His sons would be half-Oberon, grandchildren quarter-Oberon....how far out does the scent carry before it functionally doesn't matter? Most of the grandchildren, and I include myself in that box, never even met Oberon."

Raphaela says, "Or merely bait and distract them with something they want which happens to be accompanied by Oberon blooded. Curius, capricious things will tolerate icky to get to the fun."

melina shrugs "He intended it as a special case I believe"

Merrisol observes the masculinification of Diana with another blink and a skeptical attempt to visually see through the change to the lady behind the curtain. Then he shrugs and headshakes slowly, undeniably impressed by the solidity of the glamour. He smiles a bit in relief when Maggie drops her guise, although that is short lived. The talk turning to blood magic and Maggie's step-whatever robs the rest of his good humour and he just wanders off for a while to see to some other business.

Maggie parts her lips to comment further, but turns in surprise when Merrisol moves off. Looking back at the others, she smiles, "Well. Excuse me, please." Turning, she follows Merrisol, hurrying to catch up to his longer stride.

Quinlan takes this as a cue it's time to shut up now. Well, he's got mojitos, and he's got his hammock. He swings his legs back into said hammock, summoning a little breeze to set it rocking back and forth. Mmmm. Mojitos. Wind. Sun. Nice.

Melina heaves a deep sigh "Well that's all I have to offer unfortunately. If I had anything in my own power I wouldn't have suggested something so drastic

“I spent many years in Cibola.” Diana says. Which might scream I know blood magic to anyone so inclined to believe that the kingdom is rife with it. “If there is one universal truth that I accept, it is that blood tracks. It winds through the past like sunlight in shadow. It’s truth. A true son or daughter of Oberon, or Kite, or Minos will always wear their scarf. Divinity will always have a spark.” He lifts an eyebrow at Merrisol’s sudden departure. “We are all bound by the past because it gives us shape and function, otherwise would not the world shift but to formlessness? Or at least some prenatal structure before the primordial event - a defining moment which lay structure over madness. Blood is the ink in which history has been written.”

“My first... Mentor was obsessed with extracting Vita, was certain that he could mimic the traits of any True Blood. Since he help concoct a means to suppress and replace them with the Black Blood?” He shrugs. “I was never certain enough to bet against him.”

Ruby seems to reanimate after sponging up the conversation. "None 'o this worth nothin if it results in any 'o you femmes gettin ir-rep-u-ably damaged." She adds, "...or blokes." She hinges her jaw back and forth to wear down her molars a bit more before continuing. "Just got tah focus on a temporary guise. Somethin tha will 'old up...just enough. Blood 'o Oberons get attacked on soight in tha past by tha Consortium bastards. If they won't let in anythin but divine, we bettah go at this loike we Montevalno's in toights two sizes too small...an a lit stage." The heady subject matter isn't lost on her, but she doesn't look like she can comprehend some of those hardcore Cibolan rituals. "I not gonna dispute nuthin regarding Cibola, specially not ink, blood or sacrifice. They all currency in me eyes."

For his part, Ashby de'Mandrake isn't even remotely grounded. Away from the Son of Serminia and along for the ride on this adventure, he takes a moment for himself up in the rigging. It is taking some focused effort to pull himself from his own thoughts, enough so that as others are engaging with Ruby, he simply lets it play out while listening in. Taking his time about it, he sliiides on down one rope, then walks across a boom over to another, and finally slides down to the deck. "Sneaking into a meeting? Food? Involved in the war? For the sake of a child, no less! Of course we must go!" With hands clasped behind his back, he paces around the deck, nodding and listening as many ideas are offered up. "Can gods not sense... divinity about each other? Should we perhaps find some lesser divinity to conjure some essence from them? Or, could we simply find a god we could convince, though some thoroughly reputable means no doubt, to attend and bring us as an entourage? Might mitigate some of the risks of conventional disguises?"

“Ah, yes. The ‘I am in their Harem, yes all of us’ strategy”. Diana says.
“One big bed.”

Raph wanders over and folds arms over Quin. "Mellow are we." she looks up at Diana. "No argument here. Blood activated salt magic and all. But. Cant it just be done by non royals?"

Quinlan smiles up at her. "This? Is not the craziest, most dangerous thing on my plate just now. So...yeah. It's interesting. And gods are an interesting species to study, when you get the chance to do so. They tend to be pretty secretive, and I've come to think there's solid reason for their paranoia."

Raph hmmmms 'Probably have a ridiculously exploitable loophole somewhere.' She wanders off.

"Souls," says Quinlan mildly. "Everything feeds on something. Research I've been poking at suggests gods feed on souls."

Melina says, "Anybody famaliar with giselle's research to distill oberon's essence?"

Raph mutters "only what I observed. Cant say I like it."

Quinlan thinks about it. "Yeah, I've seen her research. It may prove useful at some point. Oberon still holds the keys to changing Amber."

Ruby offers forth a bit of info and opinions. "Aye, she spilled beans about some 'o it. In tha end, I offered tah 'elp a wee bit." Ruby fingerguns at Raphaela. "At some point. But for what pur-pose? You got tah be careful about anythin ex-perimental...tha tha ex-perimenter...'as used on themselves. Oberon is gone or dead. It up tah our generation for any fix, in my opinion. Tha big birb left tha nest 'o eggs an 'atchilings...rather than tha other way around."

Quinlan laughs quietly. "Not arguing, Ruby. Just observing that Oberon was justifiably paranoid of having his kingdom taken from him by coup, so he hid the keys to all the locks that might change anything, or repair anything, and that therefore, part of the process of us fledgelings taking over the nest is finding ways to pick the locks or make new keys. Giselle's research would qualify as one such key."

Melina hms "I'm just wondering if the opposite could be done and it could be blunted for our present purposes

Ruby raises a hand and waves it around. "I'd rather wear me daughter's divine-filled doo-doo diapers on me 'ead than distill tha essence 'o some god. There's gotta be a quicker way tah get our fix than tha months 'o work Giselle needed tah doo. Loike...an item. Remember tha bloody net an troi-dent we took off tha Golden Bloke?" She looks for Merrisol and notes he's gone. "Bog's barnacles. Anyways, short 'o bathin in tha blood of some divinity, maybe there's options tha are quicker. I wouldn't mind lessenin tha amount 'o gods around Amber, but I understand some folks actually ~loike~ 'em, for some reason. Maybe even ambush one 'o those bastards before they get tah Firaxis Fundy.

Quinlan rocks back and forth in his hammock, meditatively. "Well, shifting the balance of blood might not be a bad idea; instead of emphasizing Oberon's blood, emphasize our other bloodlines. The non-Amberite portions. That could effectively factor into an overall deception. Do you guys know anything about the pantheon you want to infiltrate?"

melina nods "It seemed logical that it could be reversed or rather the opposite be done but i'm not an alchemist, but i hope she finishes given everything that's been done in its name, i'd hate it to be fruitless but that's not why i brought it up

Ashby whirls about, brandishing his pointed finger like a sword and waving it about in Ruby's direction. "Ah! So! Bedazzling yourself in divine items to try and have the scent of the divine? Perhaps!" Tipping the finger upward, he wags it in the air, "I still wouldn't mind bending the ear of one on the way in to bribe for some assistance. Say. The, er, opposition you mentioned earlier. Do they have any inkling you might be trying to stop in? That could color things a touch."

melina adds "I only know what i've been told mind. that a strong group of anti-amber dieties have called other such beings together to drum beat for the cause but that sentiment there is divided and could still be swayed. All I'm asking is that we feel the pulse in the room before making a decision on what to do I'm willing to entertain that i've been lied to. I just want others to entertain that i've not. i don't want to paint them with the same brush the waye consortium has done to amber

"Wise," Quinlan agreed. "Never a bad idea to seek out more information first. Have you tried your House's archives?"

mel blinks " on what. Current amber sentiment in the divine community?

Quinlan blinks. "On this pantheon of gods you want to infiltrate. They can't come out of nowhere. They have believers somewhere."

melina hms "the gathering itself is more like a divine census do god are coming from every where. I don't know how to pick enemies from allies at this point but once we've managed to not go in with a huge blinking target on our backs. i can reach out to may contact. they can get us in but they can't make obespawn not smell like oberspawn

Ruby flubbers her lips in a display of frustration and ignorance. "If tha Pantheon is anythin loike tha rest 'o tha Consortium we've fought against, they got vast numbahs or influence. We've gone against fleets tha could rival Minos. 'Oles in tha sky an whirlpools in tha seas tha can appear loike someone pullin a curtain. I never 'ad an inklin 'o tha Consortium until a few years ago, but their feud with Ambah seems tah stretch back centuries...mebbe longer. Dunno if tha Pantheon is expectin us...I just assume they got a smite-on-soight policy."

Raphaela mutters "one can certainly tell the people on board are mostly used to combat. Half the combat is in preparation, and sometimes it is not even needed if you can outmanouver them." She leans against the rail an looks up. "Looking at it from wrong side. What is it that this gathering of gods need. Food? Souls? Fine. Deny them. Worship? Collapse their temples to weaken them. How do they communicate? Break it. Are they all at one spot? Isolate." Tch.