Hill froze for a moment.
Was Shar planning to put the followers of Dark Night in the Northlands under Nasr's command?
No, more than that—she was certain Chult was doomed.
She had even sent its prospective successor there!
But if Chult truly fell apart, Ubtao would be gravely wounded even if he survived.
Given how things usually worked in Toril... a god who could no longer answer his followers might still earn respect, but he would never keep their faith.
The peoples of Faerûn's southern rainforests depended even more heavily on divine gifts. Without them, they could not even count on finding food.
Mushrooms in a fantasy world were far more frightening than the ordinary poisonous kind. Even a mushroom that had been edible could suddenly become deadly.
Worst of all were the spores drifting on the wind. Mortals could grow vegetables outdoors and still find them inexplicably seasoned with something extra.
So every people living in the rainforest either had an innate bond with nature and could tell at a glance what was safe to eat, or relied on divine gifts: nothing went into anyone's mouth until a shaman had inspected it.
As Chult's only True God, Ubtao really was those peoples' sole source of spiritual support in this regard.
If he stopped answering them, Hill could not imagine how many of those rainforest peoples would die.
So although Shar was shamelessly taking advantage of his misfortune... Ubtao was a primordial Savage God. At worst, he would sleep for a few thousand years and eventually wake. But if Hydra lured away all his followers, then... ten thousand years might not be long enough, and a hundred thousand might not be too long.
For mortals, though, receiving an answer from a new god when they stood at death's door would