"More believable if I can stand on two paws?"

Cynthia only stares. "This is slightly terrifying. And somehow less believable!"

"I know it's terrifying! That why I usually go more... doggo!"

"Uhh, is there... something important I need to know quickly?"

"Important, yes! It is important to know that you are loved and appreciated! Quickly no, you can take your time to decide!"

Cynthia shrugs. "Well, yes. Wait. Take my time to decide what?"

"If you want to be Her cleric! She'd love that! Do you know what a cleric does, right?"

"No, it sounds almost like a priest. It'd make her happy, I guess, but why should I?"

"So. Gods are powerful, right? But they agreed to not act directly on the Material. Mostly.

So what they do, is they give a bit of their power to clerics. And then the clerics do... their own thing, really! Usually!

Some churches actually demand obedience, and have strict rules and who commands who.

Sarenrae has rules too, but they are simple.

Help the sick and wounded, protect your friends, help people on their path to redemption.

So. The way it works in practice is that if you think that you want to work with Her, to help people people heal, then you ask to become Her cleric, and then you get cool magic!

You pray in the morning, and you get spells! You can ask for specific ones, or trust Her to give you what you need.

You don't need to decide now! It's not a simple decision!"

"I don't decide now, truly. It sounds like a huge responsibility, far, far more than I've ever had previously. I'll think about it. But I'm not sure I could be the best user of these powers."

"She thinks you would use them for Good! And healing! She likes you!

But it's valid to think about it! The options is going to still be there tomorrow. And the day after. And probably more time after that!

Do you have questions for me?"

"In truth, no. I just want to be here as a friendly and loving face for anyone crossing over from Cheliax. But we'll need to find a way to dismantle that place, if we want people to be able to leave..."

"I think The Sad One is going to send someone to talk to your warriors and generals!"

"May I step through the door?"

His voice is loud and deep, and doesn't fully sound human.

Cynthia nods. "Yes, feel free. I don't think the bad guys would think to ask. Although I want to know, who are you?"

"I am the Hand of the Inheritor, the Herald of Iomedae, sent by my Goddess to communicate with mortals, and fight by their side."

"And the sourpussest of sourpusses!"

"Greetings, Archon.

I think we should close the door while we plan, to minimize exposure."

She closes the door.

"Well, you wouldn't be planning with me. You'd be planning with the military guys... who we weren't planning to call in, today. Hmm. I guess we'll start teleconferencing?"

"No, we would not planning with an healer. But I can help you with recovering from talking to my Goddess, if you wish.

I do not know what a 'teleconference' is, but if I am guessing correctly that it is similar to a Greater Scry, go ahead and cast it."

"We'd need to find a projector for that, mister! Let me see if I can find one..." Cynthia looks around, seeing a small office building not too far from the hangar. "There should be some equipment there! Let's make our way over." Cynthia starts taking the lead, calling someone on her phone to get them ready for a strategy discussion.

The group follows, with Charlabu zipping all over the place sniffing the unfamiliar plants and building and materials and oooooh, is that a butterfly?

The three refugees are staring agape at the buildings, the tarmac, the airplanes.

Cynthia turns to the trio of refugees. "So, well. We want to keep you far, far away from Cheliax. You'll be safe, and we'll care for you, here. But this isn't a particularly great place for you; you'll want to head somewhere else, where there's housing and people are meant to live. I can take you there, after the important discussions."