Snippet #2623638

Klethi had received her summons with disappointment. The absolutely lack of fanfare left her far from excited, but a meeting of her compatriots was the spawning grounds of outcomes at all tiers of possibility. Nations could be formed, species could be exterminated, and there was a lot of money to be made in betting on it.
Before she left Azal, Klethi sent a loyal elf to the holy gambling board that stood on a pedestal at the center of her grand city. Everything from which gods would make themselves present to what would be discussed were big ticket items, with odds quickly haggled and bets placed. Scrupulous members of all races, misers of all ages, and gamblers of all predilections wagered currency, favors, land, titles, offices, food, livestock, limbs, what they'd name their first born, and more to say Klethi would sit next to a particular goddess or if the topic of discussion concerned the great class struggle or if it was secretly a wild, never-ending party and they would never see their patron again. This brought great joy to Klethi, who hesitated to leave the fervor of holy service. No one was sour to lose, not matter what it cost them; if not the next day, or the day after, or forever, there were always opportunities to recoup losses. That was how Azal functioned; one week's mayor become the next month's beggar at the whim of a die roll. It wasn't often enough she watched her servants excited for such a decisive event, however, and it was with displeasure that she willed herself to her summons before it was decided how many chickens Badzel the farmer committed to his belief that a talking fish would be served symbolically as an appetizer.

A muted trumpet sounded Klethi's arrival, which was a flourish of white dress around the shapely form of an elf. In her infinite memory of ballads she knew there was a lyrical greeting perfect for the event, but it had been more than once that another entity displayed their displeasure for her theatrics, and for the sake of Kendidy the Blacksmith (who had invested heavily that at least two gods would be happy to see her) she decided to try not influencing anyone's reception of her. "Salutations, my friends," she greeted simply (well, relatively simply; she made no attempt to suppress the sing-song inflection she was known for). "And what aether-shattering event gathers us?"