DIVINE DALLIANCE.
Ordurlee, god of accountants, Bureaucrats, and assorted other financial and miscellaneous organisational positions, gazed down upon the world and sighed. “bloody feudalism is such a pain in the rear” He reached for the sacred text Filofacs and checked again. “Hmmm, on the positive side, that new god has bumped the process up slightly, but we are still far behind schedule for an industrial revolution. Drizul, where the hell are you? You said you were only popping downstairs for a month or two. Instead, it’s been two us-damned YEARS. You know how fragile the mortals are, a few weeks without water, and they wilt.”
He paced anxiously. “At this rate, we won’t be able to hold your position for much longer.”
Ordurlee carefully pulled out a sheaf of paper from somewhere and a Ledretter divinity edition. Then carefully started to draft a help wanted advert.
Wanted, God of Rain, experience not essential but preferred. Must have a stable base of worshippers, a water-based affinity, and sufficient divinity to manifest.
Flexible hours will be required, accommodation provided in a desirable divine mountaintop position. Though alternative housing may be provided on request.
Wages TBA, Non-humanoids considered. This position is unsuitable for dark gods or the forgotten.
For further information, please contact Divine recruitment services UnLtd office number 1312 Avalon St. Divine mount. Application for face to face interview preferred, but not essential.
That unpleasant business taken care of, he added posting the vacancy to the to-do list in 4 weeks 1 day 6 hours and 27 minutes, 45.00003 seconds time. Maximising the wriggle room for Drizul’s sake. If he failed to show up by then, he would be filed as absent without official leave. Then given the fallen status. Ordurlee really hoped he didn’t have to stamp that form, or things would get messy. In the meantime, he started the search for a suitable stand-in.
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The shrines to Drizul, meanwhile, were quiet and subdued, with so little rain that could be associated with their god of late and a distinct lack of miracles lately that could possibly be attributed to him his worshippers were growing restless. They had tried animal sacrifices and prayer. (The divine equivalent to have you tried turning it off and on again.) Their prayers were going unanswered, and now one by one, followers were slipping away.
The Archangel Pouriel, meanwhile, looked down at the statue on the shrine with a sigh. It had gone undisturbed for long enough that it was starting to tarnish. Angels couldn’t touch this place; that was the job of mortals. Pouriel would never let on, but he was worried sick. This wasn’t like Drizul at all. He just hadn’t been the same lately, and wherever he was, Pouriel couldn’t even manifest. As an angel, he had to admit being ghosted was a novel experience, but not one he particularly wished to experience.
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Pouriel couldn’t clean, of course, but it was hardly his fault if, in stretching his wings; he happened to blow a few cobwebs away; even an Angel has to exercise sometimes, right? The plan formed Pouriel stretched his wings and flapped furiously. Proudly noting the gusts he was generating, and the gathered shocked looking mortals at a wind blowing from nowhere.
*AHEM* came a voice in his head, flashing a brief image of the union rulebook. He hadn’t broken any rules, technically, possibly. But the steely gaze of the watchers was clearly on him, and the commandment was flashing. With a nervous gulp, he stopped, noting with a hint of pride, despite the fear, the few remaining followers were milling around, and the statue looked somewhat cleaner. Well, if nothing else, he had at least bought the boss some time.
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Meanwhile, halfway up a mountain pass, a handsome man with salt and pepper hair was enjoying a ride upon a wagon.
“Really glad you came by,” he said conversationally. “didn’t want to trek clean across countries by myself.”
“Not as glad as us”, replied the driver. “that flask of water was a lifesaver, you sure you can spare it?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty.”
The Merchant “price hike” Mike was indeed glad; he’d cheaped out on supplies. Not factoring in for delays, and without that water, he would be up the proverbial creek sans paddle. (At least in this bloody drought, the proverbial creek would be a bit on the dry side.) Though it was weird how little trouble they were meeting along the way.
“What did you say your name was again, stranger?”
“You can call me Chris.”
“What the hell brings you all the way out here anyway?”
“Oh, just enjoying my retirement, you wouldn’t believe the ridiculous hours the bosses had me working or the lousy pay. I just got sick of it, so going to pay a visit to an old friend, see what can be arranged.”
“Ah, say no more”, Said Mike with a nod, slowing down to let the passenger off right beside Dragon’s point. The first time this had happened, he’d been anxious letting a traveller off round these parts. (People plus dragons did not mix.) But it happened from time to time, and he was used to it by now. Chris headed off down the valley; the incessant roaring went quiet as he passed through. That bit always gave Mike the creeps.
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Rargat was no fool sure there was a wagon full of tasty humans with the best loot down there, but they weren’t alone. Why the hell was a God wandering about? Here he was minding his own business, burning and pillaging like a decent self-respecting Dragon, then BAM a God, not even a little god. This was a God with a capital G. It wasn’t right; there ought to be a law. But some things you don’t touch, unless you want to end up a very expensive looking pair of shoes, you don’t mess with gods or princesses. (No matter how pretty the princess, they were usually followed by some twit tailored in a tinfoil suit, Who believed themselves fireproof. Proving them wrong caused a whole mess of other problems, usually along the lines of a national subjugation attempt. Which, while not unbeatable per se, were more trouble to deal with than they were worth. Gods, of course, didn't even bother with that; they could smite you with zero effort, so why even bother with a middleman?)
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Chris walked through the valley, stopping at a dusty shrine.
“Hello, old friend,” he said, walking carefully so as not to disturb the dust. “Hope you don’t mind me stopping by.”