The three gods had a little class, at least.
After watching the players of the second battle group, now empowered by divine might, cut through the gnoll lines and shatter their morale once again despite the Whiptail battle standard's enhancement and the effects of Bloodlust, they withdrew the power they had granted with remarkable tacit understanding.
A display of power only needed to offer a taste.
Give too much, or give it too often, and it would lose its appeal. Besides, as gods, they ought to have some class. They couldn't actually go groveling at the feet of these foreigners. These fellows certainly had potential, but they still needed time to grow. The gods understood well enough that you couldn't rush the process.
Tonight's miraculous victory would be a gift from the three gods to the people of Transia. Any small player with a shred of conscience ought to return to the temple in Scarlet Castle after the battle, light a few incense sticks, offer up some sacrifices, and perhaps join a church while they were at it.
Of course, the gods knew this was a bunch of faithless heathens.
But that didn't matter. Even devout believers couldn't serve the gods with the same thoroughness, decisiveness, and perfection as these fellows. Faced with the perfect value they had demonstrated, a little thing like faith could be overlooked. If they didn't have any, so be it.
Besides, as true gods, they didn't need faith to sustain their existence. Even Vam, the weakest of the three, based his existence on the faith of the barbarians. He was the patron god of the West Sassanid barbarians, and the faith of other races meant little to him.
"Mm, that great power is gone. What a pity. The fun never lasts."
Miss Peachy, the "Golden