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As Caleb approached the throne, the figure sitting upon it did not look up. They were draped over it artfully, one leg over the chair’s arm and a tapered tail over the other. Gold and gems glittered from every limb and dangled from their ears and their long, curling horns. The patron god of this city-state took the form of a tiefling, it seemed, with lavender skin and ethereal beauty.
“I am your god,” called the figure.
“Long may you reign,” Caleb answered. He may not be from this city-state, but he was a student of history and knew of its protector. Mollymauk was a famed figure, said to bring prosperity beyond imagining to this coast. He knew that Mollymauk received offerings from their city’s denizens, usually in the form of choice consumables. They were known to be partial to ripe fruits, top-grade meats, aged wines and liquors, and even narcotics. A hedonist. Caleb could offer no such thing, having nothing to his name now besides his books.
What could he possibly offer to such a god?
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