He stared, before drawing himself up. "I am Choice. And while I have a truce of non-hostility with your opponent, I have a full alliance with you. The shadow stalkers have an alliance with you, and nothing with her. All she has protected herself from is my followers and personal guards. The constructs that protect yours can go on the offensive any second that We deem it necessary."<br/><br/>He looked down at the maps, before shaking his head. "Not a century, maybe a tenth of that on average. Your position is too degraded, and her chaotic nature is the only thing that truly allows you to hold. My shadow stalkers are too committed to their current positions, and even redirecting a few handfuls of reinforcements means we have likely lost a far realm, an outer plane. My position is no less tenuous than your own, though my opponents don't have your opponent's interior information networks. And they can't get past the outer defenses like your opponent can."<br/><br/>He rubbed his jaw, before shaking his head. "Can't be stopped, too much mass, though just barely. Even a year ago and we might have turned it around. Seven years and we would have. Damn it all. Too many fronts, too many not seeing."<br/><br/>He looked up at his ally, and nodded sadly. "We have already begun setting aside a plane for them, where your followers can conceal themselves, for at least a while. Though no more than a century, because at that point the sub-plane will forcibly return to the rest of it, and like kill anyone still on it if I don't ease it back. Say... seven decades of concealment, before retuning to the material planes. After that, we will protect them as we can, but only as much as a foreign god can. When do you wish for me to begin their withdrawal?"