The next few days were better than those that came before. With the help of her new fate magic the gatherers had fortuitous encounters. Out of seasons fruits and nuts, traps that were filled sometimes as much as three times a day, travelers willing to part with some of their own rations for what meager coin the goblins could scrape up. Every little bit added up. Along with that, Skree’s class showed just how powerful it could be.

Every moment of every day Skree was working on whittling something. A small arm band, a ring, a necklace, a bead, anything and everything that could take a spirit of nature was given one. Spirits of healing, of stamina, of light, and ones of warmth. And each night he carved a larger, crude totem until the camp had five head-sized lumps of carved wood, each looking like a different elderly female goblin. There were two each of healing and stamina, which covered a large radius and would allow hundreds of goblins to share their effects while marching. The final totem was different, it held outstretched hands tilted forward in a pouring motion and any container placed under them was swiftly filled with clean water.

“How did you convince those five to accept becoming totems?” Sigrid asked, as she walked alongside Skree, watching his small knife deftly carving away at a bit of wood he’d picked up.

“I didn’t, those’re the grammies ya had me talk to,” he replied, not looking up from his work.

“What?” The grandmother asked, slightly confused, then looked at the nearest totem and reached out to it with her godly senses. Yes, there it was, the bond of grandmotherhood, reaching out to the goblins all around.

“Somethin, something cycle’ of nature. Wasn’t really payin attention,” Skree said. Though Sigrid would bet good money he had paid perfect attention. Slackers probably didn’t get classes after all.

She was about to ask a further probing question when she felt the prayer. It was like a warm hand reaching out into the dark looking for her presence but unsure of where to find it; words flung into a void in hopes that someone would hear.

“Dear Grammy hall,” the voice of En began. “I reached Ritherhithe yesterday, and the clans of Fib and Enk have agreed to join us, more they’ve gathered many supplies that would help us on our journey. However, as we tried to leave the guards of the city barred the road, proclaiming that the goblins were being quarantined due to suspected disease and would need to return to their homes. While I attempted to explain about our [Holy Pilgrimage] they said that would only gain dispensation for myself, as I was the only goblin already part of it.” There was a long pause, and the factual, almost dry retelling broke as emotion edged its way into the prayer. “Grandma, they’re going to keep them here, forever, as little better than slaves. I don’t know what to do, or how to save them. Please, help us.”

Sigrid contemplated the prayer, staring off into space. So this is what it was to be a god; to hear the prayers of your worshipers and to wonder what it was in your power to do for them.

“Grammy?” Anx asked, slightly anxious.

Sigrid looked down to see the little girl clasping tight to one pant leg. It seemed they’d stopped moving, and her blank expression probably hadn’t been encouraging. She forced herself to smile at Anx.

“It’s alright dear, there are just a few more people in need of a grandma that I have to go help.”

Those seemed to be the correct words, as the little girl relaxed and nodded her head. “M’kay,” she mumbled then shuffled over to stand next to Skree, who’d stopped in his carving to look at Sigrid speculatively. The older goblin didn’t say anything though.

“I’ll be back in a few days, let the clan heads know that I’ve gone to Ritherhithe,” she instructed him and he nodded. Then, she broke into a run, weaving through the mass of goblinity as she followed the road toward where it would split for the city.

—

For the second time Sigrid pushed the limits of her no longer mortal body, running at speeds that put merely mortal athletes to shame. She was tempted to use divinity to speed her passage, but that was outside the wheelhouses of grandmothers. Instead she spent a small trickle on making herself less noticeable. The old woman who fades into the background. The silent grandmother you don’t notice until she speaks. This worked well enough that she didn’t terrify the other people on the road by charging past like a madwoman. She made it to Ritherhithe in just under two hours.

As she approached down the road she saw the cordon of guards and militia folk who’d take up on either side in small encampments and slowed herself to a reasonable walk. The armed and armored folk barely glanced at her before simply waving her past. Apparently if you weren’t a goblin, they didn’t care.

It was another ten minutes by road before Sigrid reached the outskirts of the city and the goblin slums that surrounded it. For a moment, as she looked around at the masses of huddled shanties and the small groups of goblins scattered about she wondered how she was to find En; then of course she remembered that she was the Grandmother Goddess, and En was hers. A simple check of the the lines of grandmotherhood showed the stong and powerful line she could follow direct to her priestess. Despite the magical guide it still took her ten minutes of winding through the the disordered paths between the buildings before she honed in on the small hut in which En must have been taking refuge.

Sigrid knocked politely at the piece of wood pretending to be a door frame and an annoyed “Yes?” floated out.

“Do you habitually greet your grandmothers like that?” the goddess asked amused.

There was a sudden intake of breath and a half-garbled apology before the tattered curtain was pulled aside to reveal a bowing En.

The grandmother snorted again. “That is also an inappropriate way to greet your grandmother.” She then bent forward and wrapped the goblin in a hug.

For a moment En was stunned into immobility, then she squirmed about a bit and hugged back. “Thanks,” she said finally as the old woman stepped back and stood up once more.

“A hug is no trouble,” Sigrid said, waving it off.

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En chuckled. “I meant for coming. Though I’m not sure how you got here so fast, the caravan can’t be nearer than forty miles, can it?”

“I ran, it’s amazing how fast and long you can go when you don’t need little things like rest and air,” Sigrid confided. “Took me the better part of two hours, but here I am.”

“Alright then… what’s the plan?” En asked, clearly never doubting for one moment that there would be one.

“We’re going to make cookies and do some knitting,” Sigrid replied, looking at the sky, noting that it was nearing noon. Plenty of time.

“Cookies and knitting?” the goblin looked bemused and slightly confused.

“Do you trust your grammy?” the Goddess asked?

“I’m beginning to,” En replied.

“Then trust me with this. How many goblins are in this city?” Sigrid inquired.

“Maybe five hundred? Half that if you only take into account adults,” the priestess estimated.

The Grandmother Goddess nodded. “Then I need two groups of one hundred, and a group of fifty. One group of one hundred should be willing to fight and should come equipped with knitting needles and yarn, the group of fifty should be willing to become clergy, and the last group should be willing to support the first two groups. I’ll address them all in… let’s say an hour, will that work?”

“Barely, if I start spreading word now!” En exclaimed.

“Then hop to it!” Sigrid said, getting out of the goblin’s way.

—

Seventy-five minutes later found Sigrid standing in front of roughly three hundred goblins in three vague masses. It turned out there were more of them than En had estimated, but that was fine. The ratios for fighters to helpers and clergy was a little off too, with fighter ranks swelling to almost a full hundred and fifty while clergy was split with helpers almost evenly; but that was okay too.

“Alright then,” Sigrid said, projecting her voice over the babble of so many people, causing them to fall silent. “I’m sure many of you are wondering why we’re here, and what this is about.”

The goblins looked around, many of them nodding, others watching carefully, some derisively. What could some old human woman do for them after all? Even if she was this ‘Grandmother Goddess’.

“I am Sigrid Hall, Grandmother Goddess, and I am here to take you away from this place. From squalor, from near slavery, from the people who would use you and abuse you. Some of you may not believe we can do that right now; that’s fine, belief is not a thing that can be given, it must be grown. So today, we’re going to grow some belief.” She looked around at the assembled. “I need those who would help to stand forward.”

After a few moments one of the indistinct, but smaller blobs of goblins shuffled forward and she nodded. “Henceforth, you are [Grammy’s Little Helper]s,” she said with authority, and felt her carefully filled stores of [Divinity] gush forth as a spark of magic seemed to sweep through the assembled goblins who gave out cries of surprises, joy, and maybe a few of consternation.

“This comes with three skills I can tell you of. [Cookie Curer], [Kitchen Kaboodle], and [Muffin Cloud].” Divine power poured like water as the system built skills to her specifications, and the exclamations from the group became louder and turned further jubilant.

Sigrid did her best not to sag; it’d cost nearly two hundred [Divinity] to provide that many classes and skills, and it was only going to get harder, hopefully this next move would help alleviate the problem.

“Now, something to remember is that [Baking is a Labor of Love], so put your heart and soul into it!” She called over the rising murmur.

[Ritual of the Grandmother Goddess created: [Baking for Others].]

[You have one [Ritual] slot remaining.]

“Well?” She asked the still milling [Helper]s. “What are you waiting for? To your fires and ovens, pots and pans! Cook and bake every thing you can!” With those words the group of newly classed goblins scattered, running for their various homes and bakeware.

Sigrid then turned her attention to the largest group of goblins. “No doubt you all wonder what’s in store for you. Unfortunately your classing is going to have to wait, as you need to learn an essential skill before we can begin; knitting.”

A small groan came from the group but mostly it was good natured, and they spread out a bit so they could sit down and have a better watch at what Sigrid was doing. With a deft motion the old woman dipped her hands into her pockets and spent a tiny bit of [Divinity] to come away with the tools of many a grandmother; a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn. “We’re going to start with the stitch my grandmother showed me,” she began and then carefully began guiding them through the first few steps of putting order to chaos. Within fifteen minutes they’d all understood her instructions, and she found herself wandering through the group speaking words of [Encourage]ment to the stragglers, and showing more advanced stitches to those itching to go ahead. By this time she was also starting to gain [Divinity] from the ongoing baking that was happening, swiftly filling her small store. Within forty minutes she was ready to perform the day’s second miracle.

Stepping out of the group of knitting goblins she walked out in front where they could all see her easily and spoke. “Alright, I think we’re ready to begin, and so I name you my [Knitwork Knights].”

The divine power flowed out of her in a torrent, a burst of golden motes that swept over the assembled goblins, soaking into them and eliciting further gasps and cries of wonder. It had taken almost the full three hundred she had stored, but that was fine, it would come back as the [Helper]s baked. So for the next hour she helped them work on their knitting and was surprised to find that many of them gained skills on their own such as [Sharp Needles] and [Tightest Weave]. Then she spoke into existence the three skills they would need.

“And upon you my [Knight]s, I bestow [Anysize Needle], [Knitwork Steed], and [Armor of Love],” Sigrid intoned, using up nearly a hundred of her [Divinity] on the skills alone.

The goblins cheered and she smiled. “Continue to practice your knitting while I go speak to those who would be my clergy,” she said, and then walked over to the last group.

The third group of goblins looked at her expectantly and she looked back for a moment, uncertain how to proceed, however then an idea sparked. “En, for your service and devotion I raise you to be my High Priestess.”

En sucked in abreath, and then tried to bow low, only to feel a hand on her shoulder stopping her. “No one bows to their grandmother, the appropriate sign of respect, is a hug.” And so saying she engulfed the goblin in a warm embrace. With a small chuckle, En returned it, and then the two parted once more.

“As my ranking clergy member, it only makes sense that you’d induct those who’d wish to join you. So En, how would you go about building a priesthood?” Sigrid asked.

En’s brow furrowed in deep thought for nearly ten minutes before she finally spoke. “We begin with the hug; [You Can Tell A Lot From a Hug],” En stopped, startled as the skill name came from her mouth, then she smiled fiercely and continued. “Then we ask the question. ‘Who will you be a grandmother to?’”

Sigrid flinched at the words, but no one seemed to notice, and En carried right on.

“The answer will determine where they are in the hierarchy, as the answer changes, so too can their status. But I know what your answer must be, and that’s what mine is too. Finally we ask for their vow. To you and those they take as their grandchildren,” En finished. “Simple, easy, and sweet. Without the pomp and circumstance that weighs down a lot of religions.”

Sigrid nodded. “[Then Let it Be so],” she said, feeling a small portion of power flowing from her.

And so, the first ever induction ceremony for the clergy of the Grandmother Goddess began.