Two wizards and two soldiers appear in the desert, a few feet away from a tired slave caravan.
They nod at each other and disappear again.
"All right. We can try to gate there later today - can't do it from here, because of the bars on transit magic here."
"It probably should be, it's not like we won't already have been noticed missing."
" - huh. It doesn't miss up or down on Golarion but I think it can miss in all three dimensions on some other planes."
"Gate, then, you'd land in hard vacuum missing in most directions. You want to see pictures or anything?"
Cam has pictures of his house. It's nice, in a practical cozy way; he didn't go nuts with gold and rubies.
"I'd say you should send chip Elves on weird expeditions so Cam can fork us back in case anything strange happens but perhaps with neither Mandos nor the Silmarils present to catch backups that doesn't fly."
"He can make chip people! I think it's somehow complicated but not as complicated as they are pretending it is. It wouldn't actually make sense for it to be complicated, because chip people are just long strings of numbers and he ought to be able to make the numbers."
"Meat people are just molecules and I make those fine too, it's a genuinely weird magical limitation."
"You possibly should have told at least me this before I made it salient in front of six Maitimos."
"I don't want billions of demons learning that they can make chip Elves in the comfort of their own homes so the story is the Silmarils do backup - they do - and I'm using that for reembodiments - I'm not. Silmarils are also too smart to make correctly so it'll hold if everyone shuts up about it."