me tonight’ is a big one; right up there with, ‘Please, don’t let these adventurers find my hiding spot.’ Yours, though, that was a rarity: one of my worshippers charging into danger, rather than scrambling away from it, and all to save a friend.”
“Your faith does teach the importance of looking out for one another,” Thistle said.
Grumble hopped down from the pulpit and landed on the dusty rug. He’d have been shorter than a normal gnome, but Thistle’s crooked body left him eye-level with his deity.
“It does teach that, but you went above and beyond. What you did was brave, and selfless, and, dare I say, noble.”
Comprehension dropped on Thistle like Grumph after too many shots of dwarven whiskey. “Ohhh, no. No no no no. No way. Look at me, you know this doesn’t work.”
“I’ll admit, you’re not exactly what most gods look for, but I don’t get a lot of options from my following. Besides, technically speaking, I don’t have to ask, you know.” Grumble walked forward until he was only a few paces away from Thistle. “I can just give you the calling, and then it’s there, and you’re stuck with it.”
“Aye, you could do that. But I don’t think you will,” Thistle ventured.
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re the god of the minions: those who are already shoved around and controlled by the powerful. If you were the kind of god who did that, you’d never have chosen us to look over in the first place.”
Grumble gave a brief nod. “You caught me. I don’t force this on anyone. If you tell me your final answer is no, then I’ll let it be. You can consider what happened with the dagger a divine boon, and go on your way.”
“My final answer is—” Thistle kept mouthing words, but found his voice no longer functioned.
“You could at least hear me out,” Grumble said. “That would be the polite thing to do.”
Thistle gave no response; however, he did close his mouth and cease his attempts to talk.
“Good enough. Anyway, there are perks to what I’m offering. Increased strength, a significant bump in endurance, and the ability to bless weapons, not quite as extreme as you saw tonight, but still impressive. Plus, there are the non-combat boons: some divine magic, prayer priority when calling your god, and, of course, healing.” Grumble leaned forward on the word “healing,” so close that Thistle could feel the breath from his snout.
“If you have something to say, please just say it,” Thistle urged, glad to hear his voice had returned.
“The woman who was with you, she’s not long for this world, and Grumph will only be a few days behind her. Demon claws are nasty things. The damage they do gets in the blood, rots the body from the inside out. Herbs and time won’t save them. They need healing magic, the kind powered by a divine backer.”
“That’s your deal: do what you want, or you let my friends die?”
“Thistle, I’m not the one who attacked them. I didn’t unleash those demons. Honestly, if not for your prayer, I never would have known about any of this,” Grumble said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I’m not trying to bully you. I’m offering a way to save them, something you wouldn’t have any other way to do. Without this conversation, they’d have just died and that would be the end of it. I’m trying to help.”
“I’ll grant you that,” Thistle said after a moment’s consideration. “But it hasn’t escaped my notice that you’re helping in a way that gets you what you want.”
“I am still a god, after all. There’s a certain way these things are done.”
“Aye. All right then, you win. I’ll do it, on one condition.” Thistle paused for the barest of instants. “Madroria.”
“Your wife?”
Thistle nodded. “As long as serving you won’t put me in a place where I can’t see her in the afterlife, I’m in.”
“My word is given. When your time in my service is done, I will ensure your spirit is
“Your faith does teach the importance of looking out for one another,” Thistle said.
Grumble hopped down from the pulpit and landed on the dusty rug. He’d have been shorter than a normal gnome, but Thistle’s crooked body left him eye-level with his deity.
“It does teach that, but you went above and beyond. What you did was brave, and selfless, and, dare I say, noble.”
Comprehension dropped on Thistle like Grumph after too many shots of dwarven whiskey. “Ohhh, no. No no no no. No way. Look at me, you know this doesn’t work.”
“I’ll admit, you’re not exactly what most gods look for, but I don’t get a lot of options from my following. Besides, technically speaking, I don’t have to ask, you know.” Grumble walked forward until he was only a few paces away from Thistle. “I can just give you the calling, and then it’s there, and you’re stuck with it.”
“Aye, you could do that. But I don’t think you will,” Thistle ventured.
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re the god of the minions: those who are already shoved around and controlled by the powerful. If you were the kind of god who did that, you’d never have chosen us to look over in the first place.”
Grumble gave a brief nod. “You caught me. I don’t force this on anyone. If you tell me your final answer is no, then I’ll let it be. You can consider what happened with the dagger a divine boon, and go on your way.”
“My final answer is—” Thistle kept mouthing words, but found his voice no longer functioned.
“You could at least hear me out,” Grumble said. “That would be the polite thing to do.”
Thistle gave no response; however, he did close his mouth and cease his attempts to talk.
“Good enough. Anyway, there are perks to what I’m offering. Increased strength, a significant bump in endurance, and the ability to bless weapons, not quite as extreme as you saw tonight, but still impressive. Plus, there are the non-combat boons: some divine magic, prayer priority when calling your god, and, of course, healing.” Grumble leaned forward on the word “healing,” so close that Thistle could feel the breath from his snout.
“If you have something to say, please just say it,” Thistle urged, glad to hear his voice had returned.
“The woman who was with you, she’s not long for this world, and Grumph will only be a few days behind her. Demon claws are nasty things. The damage they do gets in the blood, rots the body from the inside out. Herbs and time won’t save them. They need healing magic, the kind powered by a divine backer.”
“That’s your deal: do what you want, or you let my friends die?”
“Thistle, I’m not the one who attacked them. I didn’t unleash those demons. Honestly, if not for your prayer, I never would have known about any of this,” Grumble said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I’m not trying to bully you. I’m offering a way to save them, something you wouldn’t have any other way to do. Without this conversation, they’d have just died and that would be the end of it. I’m trying to help.”
“I’ll grant you that,” Thistle said after a moment’s consideration. “But it hasn’t escaped my notice that you’re helping in a way that gets you what you want.”
“I am still a god, after all. There’s a certain way these things are done.”
“Aye. All right then, you win. I’ll do it, on one condition.” Thistle paused for the barest of instants. “Madroria.”
“Your wife?”
Thistle nodded. “As long as serving you won’t put me in a place where I can’t see her in the afterlife, I’m in.”
“My word is given. When your time in my service is done, I will ensure your spirit is
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