A young god offers to make Wraithvine a god. They do not know that Wraithvine is already a 'living god' worshipped by an ever-growing number of individuals. They only know how kind the gentle elf is, yet how strong and firm, they are, and wanted to reward them for all that they have done. -- Anon Guest
Deification is weird. Gods are wont to spring forth from any number of causes. Some mortals meet extraordinary circumstances, like falling into the well of magic. Some mortals killed a fallen god and therefore inherited all the residual devotion from their warlocks-turned-clerics. Some are just so gosh-darn legendary that deification happens through public faith.
One became a minor god by building a small shrine to see which god arrived[1].
This one had risen out of a necessary need, with people praying for their mercy shortly after they gave them a name. Myazmar most often took form as an ill-smelling cloud, but was personified as a filthy person of uncertain gender. That was how ze appeared to Wraithvine when the Eternal Wizard arrived.
"You've done a great deal against the plague that spawned me," said the stinking mess of a humanoid form, manifesting close to hir altar. "So much so that I'm turning into a deity against diseases. Look," ze bared an arm, "the buboes are almost completely gone, and my rags have been getting cleaner. I owe you a great favour."
"A few blessings wouldn't go amiss," allowed Wraithvine."What did you have in mind?"
"Oh, nothing more than sharing my throne," a gesture to the altar. "Tandem gods I can protect from disease and you can heal. I can hear the prayers about it already."
"Uh," said Wraithvine, "I've already been deified, thank you. I'm already immortal from an oath I made when the world was young. I'd much prefer some blessings to gift to others. In your name, of course."
"Oh. Drat." Myazmar pouted. "I was really hoping for someone pretty to be confused with. Why did they make me so ugly?"
"You started as a god of disease," said Wraithvine. "So you bear the symptoms of that disease. Or rather, the host of diseases they mistook for one. Don't fret. As a god of mercy against disease, they'll clean your image up in no time. Two centuries, tops, and there'll be barely any traces of your -ah- origins."
"Promise?"
"I've seen such transformations hundreds of times."
[1] Some realms know him as Arepo.
[Photo by Ivailo Velev on Unsplash]
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