"And the nearest leader of the defense forces, pharaoh himself if possible," grumbles the tiefling, "we need to start coordinating to make any headway."

The pharaoh's not on the battlefield, this would honestly mostly be a distraction for his security and he can use his spell slots just as comfortably far away, raising the dead. The head of his guard is, along with the head of the military and the head of the church. They can talk right now, definitely.

That will do fine. Then this person would like to know the general state of the defense forces, what resources could be brought to bear, if there's been any new aid from other countries or planes in the past three hours, and yes it's fine to submit to a detect evil and a zone of truth or whatever they'd like before telling him any of this, he understands security concerns, it's just they're kind of in a rush right now, considering.

The wizard's greater invisibility ends while everything is being sorted out and healing spells are being applied. It's a bit hard to tell what she looks like, underneath the stoneskin and array of dizzying wizardly defenses, but she's... probably an elf? Either way, she looks rather antsy, looking over her shoulder and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Could we be appointed a liason to connect with telepathically, to coordinate with?" requests the elven wizard of some sort. "It seems a poor idea to cluster together talking, however grave the circumstances and however necessary the debriefing."

Head of the military, probably. Then they can scatter to separate ends of the battlefield.

 Osirion has twelve people with ninth-level spells, all but one of them out for the day right now, currently resting. It has about a hundred people with the ability to come near this mess and not immediately die. It has an army that ...mostly...can't do anything, unless they have some bright ideas on what weapons to get them or anything. They're back in communication with neighboring countries now that the thing looks better than 'totally hopeless', and anyone who wants to teleport in is being directed to a concealed site about ten miles from here.

"We have scarce few allies to bring to bear ourselves, I'm afraid. Most of our forces are exhausted; we have a cleric comparable to your pharaoh, a handful of lesser spellcasters, a spell-resistant golem, a minor celestial, and two epic adventurers that are in Cania trying to stop this at the source. We're here to help you buy time."

"I'm going to cast a telepathic bond; I can connect six people besides myself. Two of those are going to be Valen and our cleric. Is there anyone else you would like connected on a telepathic network?"

The pharaoh, definitely.

"I'll need him and everyone else to be connected within seventy-five feet of me at the time of casting, so it's best if we go to him."

Valen looks like he's biting into a lemon admitting this, but: "And it's likely the Seer—our cleric—will be safer behind the pharaoh's defenses than ours, after the past week."

The pharaoh's guard also doesn't look delighted about this but - "that can be arranged. Does the pharaoh need to be on this plane for the telepathic bond to continue to function?"

"Yes." It's hard to tell underneath the very paranoid wizard defenses, but it looks like she's grimacing sympathetically. Probably. "I apologize, I know it's a lot to ask."

"Let me make arrangements."

She nods. "We, as well. Excuse me."

The wizard steps away, and casts whispering wind to send an update on their plans to the Seer and her rather meager set of guards.

They are going to have to bring the pharaoh back to this plane (aaah) and to somewhere where everyone can be near each other and then to somewhere defensible for him and the strange cleric.

They get to work on logistics for this.

Valen would pity them, if he didn't have a very similar problem, except with less resources, more exhaustion, and less harmonious allies. As it is, he is just highly sympathetic and cooperative.

Eventually, everyone necessary is gathered within seventy-five feet of each other.

The 'Seer' that both epic level adventurers look rather protective of is a charcoal skinned elf, with silver hair and a kind smile. She bows low to the Osirions, when the adventurers stop fussing over her and standing in front of her protectively-but-trying-to-get-over-it.

"My sympathies and support during dark times. I am at your service, Great One, and my abilities and allies at your command."

Valen looks even less happy about this. His mouth is possibly frowning hard enough that his face might split.

"Really. Again?"

"Peace, Valen, I will be safe in their care. We will not regret our trust, nor they, theirs."

The wizard rolls her eyes, and casts telepathy on the intended recipients instead of leaving the tiefling to pout about his trust issues some more.

He watches this with some fascination. 

Are all of these people in good health? Do any of them obviously need anything?

Everybody's physically uninjured; Valen's physically exhausted, but not devastatingly so. It looks like he's used to this kind of treatment. He is very unhappy about everything involved here.

Now that telepathy with the pharaoh is up, the Seer sends to the group:

First among the resources available that we could not carelessly mention aloud is a Mirror of All-Seeing. It is dangerous to use carelessly and requires a gentle touch, but with its use I can help spare your spellcasters from scrying needlessly.

What's going on in Hell? Your companions are there? Do they need anything?

The specifics are unknown to me— she sends an impression of her suppositions from a combination of her visions from Eilistraee, her brief glimpses of certainty through her mirror, and her general knowledge of the situation.

Mephistopheles has been planning this for a while, and unfortunately for the Seer, one of her greatest enemies was his favorite tool and puppet in this grab for power. The disappearance of a great hero coincided very conveniently with Mephistopheles's escape from Cania, and it's fairly obvious now that his meeting with Mephistopheles and subsequent departure to Hell was orchestrated by higher forces. Everything was just a bit too easy, just a bit too convenient, just a bit too fated. But neither is it, she thinks, entirely by the Archdevil's machinations. This was orchestrated by other gods, and not of the evil alignment. Veron Chandler was everything Eilistraee's visions promised him to be, and more besides, and it is following her goddess's (and others', she thinks) planned fate that he be in Hell right now. He has a long and painful path to walk, but he does not walk it alone. She believes with almost painful sincerity that everything he needs is already there with him, and that trying to aid him more might upset the fragile balance of fate that the gods have so carefully crafted.

—but I believe it is in hand, and that we should focus our attention on keeping as many of your people alive and safe as possible.