Mibbet thought hard on it, there was no way she could ever provide the huge amount of power this thing took, the damned thing was gods powered, somehow she figured coal or donkeys really wouldn’t cut it here, if a god was needed here then it was time to call in the big guns.

On the positive side drawing a circle here really wouldn’t be hard, if there was one thing they were definitely not short of it was sand. She had a feeling from her experiences shiny rocks would be welcomed, so Addy carefully gathered some pretty pebbles and rubbed them between her palms until they positively glimmered, a bit of a rough and tumble approach, but it would do. Then from the depths of the storage bag they brought forth their greatest offering, a deluxe selection of Madam Monchies finest black label brand. (A pack of biscuits so posh it didn’t even bother pretending to be posh by featuring an artistic tin, settling instead for a well wrapped ribbon around the middle, and an embossed MM carefully tapped into the lid.

There are many famous, and sometimes even infamous invocations throughout history that live on long after they are uttered, from eia eia Cthulu Fthagin, and the more edgy by the blood that courses through my veins I invoke thee. To the more traditional virgin sacrifices, and goats, and etched eldritch circles.

None however would live on in infamy as much as the great invocation that was uttered here and now.

“YO WANNASHOWA, I KNOW YOU’RE PROBABLY LISTENING, MIND HELPING ME OUT HERE?” At those uttered words a thousand high priests would scream out about blasphemy, nuns would wince, and secret sects around the world would grumble about the lack of candles, robes, blood sacrifices (the little cuts still remaining from the glass traps hardly count,) or basically any form of drama or decorum, or even pretension. Which is to most cults what water is to fish.

But whatever the hell she just did it seemed to work, as around the edges of the altar reality became a bit runny, and with a poof The Princess vanished.

************************************************************************

Mibbet was confused, incredibly so, as she found herself surrounded by mist beside a very familiar looking pond. Then the waters stirred, and swirled, and churned, as from the deepest depths of a pond that Mibbet knew firsthand was far too shallow to accommodate him a humongous, and that means really freaking huge frog emerged, with deep green skin covered in shiny stones , sat upon a throne of biscuit tins.

“Wow that’s a unique look.”

“Blame yourself for that” spake Wannashowa unto their disciple, while a gaggle of angels snickered, because this was too fun and undramatic to warrant a song, and none of them were in the choir anyway. (Well Adrian was in the band, but whoever heard of the heavenly host triangle player? And they refused to let Cassie back in after she joined just to get her hands on a trumpet, which she never learned to play, but hoo boy did she fail to learn to play it enthusiastically.) “You’re responsible for about ninety nine point nine eight percent of my worshippers, and you are the other zero point zero to percent, so you have a little influence over my form. Not that I mind the biccies of course, but really? Crows? They keep offering shiny things, and all they can get their beaks on is rocks, so very many rocks.”

“Crows? Why do crows worship you, and what does that have to do with me?”

“What do you expect when they see my high priestess beating the snot out of a scarecrow that kills apex predators? Crows aren’t the sharpest crayons in the pack, but they are scavengers, so anything that beats hell out of an apex? That’s a fairly big thing.”

“I guess that makes sense, sorry about that, but at least it’s worship right?. That has to count for something.”

“Yeah but there’s only so many miracles you can pull off with worthless shiny rocks.”

“Then I may have a plan for you, but it could get a bit complicated, not sure how gods work round abandoned stuff, but it could save a fellow aquatic species.”

“Oh crap, this is one of those moments where I’ve got to do the right thing isn’t it? That means talking to legal.

************************************************************************

In the depths of hell (they registered there for tax purposes Mister Forthryte had even gone to the trouble of having himself declared legally dead in a tiny village somewhere, just for proprieties sake) a communication crystal rang in the officess of Hubbul Bubbul Toyl and Trubbul law firm, the big one. Only the big bosses used the hotline. Mister Notqwyte Forthryte stopped the game of golf he was playing using a glass to check the message. Oh he recognised the name on the letter, they were a newcomer on the scene, but had already caused plenty of chaos.

Now they were contacting him it was fairly obvious they planned to up their game even further. Looking over the proposal Notqwyte couldn’t help but chuckle, he’d never really heard of a god claiming finders keepers before. But it did say that the item in question had been abandoned in an aquatic environment for a long period of time. If there was ever a prime opportunity to take full advantage, and then some of naval salvage and mudlarking laws this would definitely apply.

The god who ran the thing had clearly abandoned their post too, that had to count for something. In Notqwyte’s twisty little mind the reasons and justifications for this were laying themselves out plain as day. Worship was a covenant, a contract to an extent, but of course holding the gods to their words was like trying to tie down a highly hyperactive greased pig, that could shoot lightning, and smite stuff. So it had never been attempted before. But here they had a god missing at their post, this was perfect.

“But sir, doesn’t this present a conflict of interest with previous cases?” Reasoned his demon assistant (who took the job voluntarily as an apprentice in order to watch a true master at work for a few weeks, that was a few centuries ago, the boss just kept cheating death.)

“So? They’re my interns, and the only way to cause conflict with me is to be uninteresting” said Mister Forthryte with a chuckle as he prepared the proper forms.