Cayden Cailean doesn't have temples.  It's not on-theme.

In Absalom where He ascended, there's a relatively high-quality inn-and-tavern-and-cathouse run by a husband-and-wife pair, a madam and a brewmaster.  The drink there isn't especially expensive, nor are the women.  Well, there's some special drinks, and maybe a few other special services on offer, but those you can't buy with money.  If you want a Regenerate on your missing hand, done here, try saying under truthspell that you lost it during a drunken fight with a nobleman's bodyguard after the nobleman kicked a beggar in front of you.

The wife and husband are both eighth-circle clerics.  Neither of them has Grand High Anything in front of their titles, or indeed, any particular titles at all.

It is the center of Cayden Cailean's faith in Golarion if anything is.  So if His traveling faithful needed to meet anywhere, or share any news, it would obviously be there.

The revelry in that place has been diminished, these last few days since the gods fought.

"You too," the swashbuckler in leather armor says to the somber-looking barkeep, as one of the special drinks is drawn for him.

"Yeah."

They haven't lost all their spells, nothing like that.

They've lost some of their spells.  Higher-level ones in particular.  Cayden Cailean is still able to grant a Regenerate, apparently, if that is necessary to restore the missing hand of some drunken do-gooder.

"Any idea why?" says the swashbuckler to the barkeep.  "Sent from Him, or otherwise?  I'm sure not getting any touches of reassurance about it."

The barkeep shakes his head.  "Nothing direct, and what I'm getting implied from - the tavern rumors, that He might influence, from the wanderers that might be drawn here, by His will - it's not -"

There's moisture in the barkeep's eyes.

"The tavern rumors are leaning that He sacrificed too much of His divinity to try and strike a final secret blow, against Zon-Kuthon, so that Zon-Kuthon would die inside the vault after being sealed there."

Cayden Cailean doesn't have temples.  It's not on-theme.

In Absalom where He ascended, there's a relatively high-quality inn-and-tavern-and-cathouse run by a husband-and-wife pair, a madam and a brewmaster.  The drink there isn't especially expensive, nor are the women.  Well, there's some special drinks, and maybe a few other special services on offer, but those you can't buy with money.

If you want a Regenerate on your missing hand, don't bother waving around 750gp, not here.  They don't want the kind of custom that would bring them, if anything that expensive were sold here for money.  Try saying under truthspell that you lost your hand during a drunken fight with a nobleman's bodyguard after the nobleman kicked a beggar in front of you.

The wife and husband are both seventh-circle clerics.  Neither of them has Grand High Anything in front of their titles, or indeed, any particular titles at all.

It is the center of Cayden Cailean's faith in Golarion if anything is.

The revelry in that place has been diminished, these last few days since the gods fought.

"You too," the swashbuckler in leather armor says to the somber-looking barkeep, as one of the special drinks is drawn for him.

"Yeah."

They haven't lost all their spells.

They've lost some of their spells.  Higher-level ones in particular.  Cayden Cailean is still able to grant a Regenerate, it seems, if that is necessary to restore the missing hand of some drunken do-gooder.

"Any idea why?" says the swashbuckler to the barkeep.  "Sent from Him, or otherwise?  I'm sure not getting any touches of reassurance about it."

The barkeep shakes his head.  "Nothing direct, and what I'm getting implied from - the tavern rumors, that He might influence, from the wanderers that might be drawn here, by His will - it's not -"

There's moisture in the barkeep's eyes.

The swashbuckler sips his drink.  It's still pretty damn good.  "If there's news that bad, it's not actually going to get better if you delay in telling me."

"The tavern rumors are leaning that He sacrificed too much of His divinity to try and strike a final secret blow, against Zon-Kuthon, so that Zon-Kuthon would die inside the vault after being sealed there.  Just.  You know.  The obvious stupid stuff that drunks make up, because, because how would they know, even if that was true, right?  Probably made up after they heard rumors about His clerics losing some of their spells, and put that together with Cheliax cutting into Nidal faster than expected."

The swashbuckler nods.  "I don't suppose the tavern rumors say that it's just temporary and He'll recover in a year, or a century?"

"Priestesses of - Desna - and Shelyn - have been wandering in, on impulse, they don't know where this place is, but when they get here, they tend to feel an impulse to preach, to our faithful -"  There's tears running down the barkeep's cheeks now.

Some of the other drinkers look uncomfortable, but not surprised, like this is a sight they've seen before.

"Oh," the swashbuckler says.  "Do we know how long."

The barkeep shakes his head.

The swashbuckler realizes, somewhat to his own surprise, that he's also crying.  "Well, He had a good run, since He first got drunk enough to go for the Starstone, you know, having that actually work was more than anyone could've expected, really, and if the tavern rumors are true, it's a fine way to finally go."

The barkeep pours himself a glass, a small one, because it's not the first time he's had this conversation today, and won't be the last, and clinks it against the last of the swashbuckler's beer.  "To Cayden Cailean."

"To Cayden Cailean."

They drink.

"He's obviously not actually dead," the swashbuckler says, after that.  "I'm still getting spells, you're still getting spells.  He could just be - warning us - that it might happen.  Telling us we might need to find a new deity, or else adjust our lifestyles, sometime soon.  Making sure we're not taken by surprise, if it happens."

"Hell of a way to warn us, if it's just a possibility."

"He might still pull through.  He's lucky that way, right?  Practically the god of having things unexpectedly work out okay."

"If He lives, I will Plane Shift to Elysium so I can personally punch Him in the fucking face."

Cayden Cailean doesn't have temples.  It's not on-theme.

In Absalom where He ascended, there's a relatively high-quality inn-tavern-cathouse run by a wife-and-husband pair, a madam and a brewmaster.  The drink there isn't especially expensive, nor are the women.  They're tapped by Remove Disease weekly, which usually costs a hefty premium, but the women here tend to run older and not as pretty as most in that tier of the profession.  

If you want a Regenerate on your missing hand, don't bother waving around 750gp, not here.  They don't want the kind of custom that would bring them, if anything that expensive were sold here for money.  Try saying under truthspell that you lost your hand during a drunken fight with a nobleman's bodyguard after the nobleman kicked a beggar in front of you.  Afterwards you might get a drink poured for you that also can't be bought there with money, and a night of warmth that's real.

Neither the wife nor the husband has Grand High Anything in front of their titles, or indeed, any particular titles at all.

It is the center of Cayden Cailean's faith in Golarion if anything is.

The revelry in that place has been diminished, these last few days since the gods fought.

"You too," the swashbuckling swordsman in leather armor says to the somber-looking barkeep, as one of the special drinks is drawn for him.

"Yeah."

They haven't lost all their spells.

They've lost some of their spells.  Higher-level ones in particular.  Cayden Cailean is still able to grant a Regenerate, it seems, if that is necessary to restore the missing hand of some drunken do-gooder.

"Any idea why?" says the swashbuckler to the barkeep.  "Sent from Him, or otherwise?  I'm sure not getting any touches of reassurance about it."

The barkeep shakes his head.  "Nothing direct, and what I'm getting implied from - the tavern rumors, that He might influence, from the wanderers that might be drawn here, by His will - it's not -"

There's moisture in the barkeep's eyes.

The swashbuckler sips his drink.  It's still pretty damn good.  "If there's news that bad, it's not going to get better if you delay in the telling."

"The tavern rumors are leaning that He sacrificed too much of His divinity fighting against Zon-Kuthon, so that Zon-Kuthon would die inside the vault after being sealed there.  Just.  You know.  The obvious stupid stuff that drunks make up, because, because how would they know, even if that was true, right?  Probably made up after they heard rumors about His clerics losing some of their spells, and put that together with Cheliax cutting into Nidal faster than expected."

The swashbuckler nods.  "I don't suppose the tavern rumors say that it's just temporary and He'll recover in a year, or a century?"

"Priestesses of - Desna - and Shelyn - have been wandering in, on impulse, they don't know where this place is, but when they get here, they tend to feel an impulse to preach, to our faithful -"  There's tears running down the barkeep's cheeks now.

Some of the other drinkers look uncomfortable, but not surprised, like this is a sight they've seen before.

"Oh," the swashbuckler says.  "Do we know how long."

The barkeep shakes his head.

The swashbuckler realizes, somewhat to his own surprise, that he's also crying.  "Well, He had a good run, since He first got drunk enough to go for the Starstone, you know, having that actually work was more than anyone could've expected, really, and if the tavern rumors are true, it's a fine way to finally go."

The barkeep pours himself a glass, a small one, because it's not the first time he's had this conversation today, and won't be the last, and clinks it against the last of the swashbuckler's beer.  "To Cayden Cailean."

"To Cayden Cailean."

They drink.

"He's obviously not actually dead," the swashbuckler says, after that.  "I'm still getting spells, you're still getting spells.  He could just be - warning us - that it might happen.  Telling us we might need to find a new deity, or else adjust our lifestyles, sometime soon.  Making sure we're not taken by surprise, if it happens."

"Hell of a way to warn us, if it's just a possibility."

"He might still pull through.  He's lucky that way, right?  Practically the god of having things unexpectedly work out okay."

"If He lives, I will Plane Shift to Elysium so I can personally punch Him in the fucking face."

Cayden Cailean doesn't have temples.  It's not on-theme.

In Absalom where He ascended, there's a relatively high-quality inn-tavern-cathouse run by a wife-and-husband pair, a madam and a brewmaster.  The drink there isn't especially expensive, nor are the women.  They're tapped by Remove Disease weekly, which usually costs a hefty premium, but the women here tend to run older and not as pretty as most in that tier of the profession.  

If you want a Regenerate on your missing hand, don't bother waving around 750gp, not here.  They don't want the kind of custom that would bring them, if anything that expensive were sold here for money.  Try saying under truthspell that you lost your hand during a drunken fight with a nobleman's bodyguard after the nobleman kicked a beggar in front of you.  Afterwards you might get a drink poured for you that also can't be bought with money, and a night of warmth that's real.

Neither the wife nor the husband has Grand High Anything in front of their titles, or indeed, any particular titles at all.

It is the center of Cayden Cailean's faith in Golarion if anything is.

The revelry in that place has been diminished, these last few days since the gods fought.

"You too," the swashbuckling swordsman in leather armor says to the somber-looking barkeep, as one of the special drinks is drawn for him.

"Yeah."

They haven't lost all their spells.

They've lost some of their spells.  Higher-level ones in particular.  Cayden Cailean is still able to grant a Regenerate, it seems, if that is necessary to restore the missing hand of some drunken do-gooder.

"Any idea why?" says the swashbuckler to the barkeep.  "Sent from Him, or otherwise?  I'm sure not getting any touches of reassurance about it."

The barkeep shakes his head.  "Nothing direct, and what I'm getting implied from - the tavern rumors, that He might influence, from the wanderers that might be drawn here, by His will - it's not -"

There's moisture in the barkeep's eyes.

The swashbuckler sips his drink.  It's still pretty damn good.  "If there's news that bad, it's not going to get better if you delay in the telling."

"The tavern rumors are leaning that He sacrificed too much of His divinity fighting against Zon-Kuthon, so that Zon-Kuthon would die inside the vault after being sealed there.  Just.  You know.  The obvious stupid stuff that drunks make up, because, because how would they know, even if that was true, right?  Probably made up after they heard rumors about His clerics losing some of their spells, and put that together with Cheliax cutting into Nidal faster than expected."

The swashbuckler nods.  "I don't suppose the tavern rumors say that it's just temporary and He'll recover in a year, or a century?"

"Priestesses of - Desna - and Shelyn - have been wandering in, on impulse, they don't know where this place is, but when they get here, they tend to feel an impulse to preach, to our faithful -"  There's tears running down the barkeep's cheeks now.

Some of the other drinkers look uncomfortable, but not surprised, like this is a sight they've seen before.

"Oh," the swashbuckler says.  "Do we know how long."

The barkeep shakes his head.

The swashbuckler realizes, somewhat to his own surprise, that he's also crying.  "Well, He had a good run, since He first got drunk enough to go for the Starstone, you know, having that actually work was more than anyone could've expected, really, and if the tavern rumors are true, it's a fine way to finally go."

The barkeep pours himself a glass, a small one, because it's not the first time he's had this conversation today, and won't be the last, and clinks it against the last of the swashbuckler's beer.  "To Cayden Cailean."

"To Cayden Cailean."

They drink.

"He's obviously not actually dead," the swashbuckler says, after that.  "I'm still getting spells, you're still getting spells.  He could just be - warning us - that it might happen.  Telling us we might need to find a new deity, or else adjust our lifestyles, sometime soon.  Making sure we're not taken by surprise, if it happens."

"Hell of a way to warn us, if it's just a possibility."

"He might still pull through.  He's lucky that way, right?  Practically the god of having things unexpectedly work out okay."

"If He lives, I will Plane Shift to Elysium so I can personally punch Him in the fucking face."

Cayden Cailean doesn't have temples.  It's not on-theme.

In Absalom where He ascended, there's an inn-tavern-cathouse run by a wife-and-husband pair, a madam and a brewmaster.  The drink there isn't especially expensive, nor are the women.  They're tapped by Remove Disease weekly, which usually costs a hefty premium, but the women here tend to run older and not as pretty as most in that tier of the profession.  

If you want a Regenerate on your missing hand, don't bother waving around 750gp, not here.  They don't want the kind of custom that would bring them, if anything that expensive were sold here for money.  Try saying under truthspell that you lost your hand during a drunken fight with a nobleman's bodyguard after the nobleman kicked a beggar in front of you.  Afterwards you might get a drink poured for you that also can't be bought with money, and a night of warmth that's real.

Neither the wife nor the husband has Grand High Anything in front of their titles, or indeed, any particular titles at all.

It is the center of Cayden Cailean's faith in Golarion if anything is.

The revelry in that place has been diminished, these last few days since the gods fought.

"You too," the swashbuckling swordsman in leather armor says to the somber-looking barkeep, as one of the special drinks is drawn for him.

"Yeah."

They haven't lost all their spells.

They've lost some of their spells.  Higher-level ones in particular.  Cayden Cailean is still able to grant a Regenerate, it seems, if that is necessary to restore the missing hand of some drunken do-gooder.

"Any idea why?" says the swashbuckler to the barkeep.  "Sent from Him, or otherwise?  I'm sure not getting any touches of reassurance about it."

The barkeep shakes his head.  "Nothing direct, and what I'm getting implied from - the tavern rumors, that He might influence, from the wanderers that might be drawn here, by His will - it's not -"

There's moisture in the barkeep's eyes.

The swashbuckler sips his drink.  It's still pretty damn good.  "If there's news that bad, it's not going to get better if you delay in the telling."

"The tavern rumors are leaning that He sacrificed too much of His divinity fighting against Zon-Kuthon, so that Zon-Kuthon would die inside the vault after being sealed there.  Just.  You know.  The obvious stupid stuff that drunks make up, because, because how would they know, even if that was true, right?  Probably made up after they heard rumors about His clerics losing some of their spells, and put that together with Cheliax cutting into Nidal faster than expected."

The swashbuckler nods.  "I don't suppose the tavern rumors say that it's just temporary and He'll recover in a year, or a century?"

"Priestesses of - Desna - and Shelyn - have been wandering in, on impulse, they don't know what this place is, but when they get here, they tend to feel an impulse to preach, to our faithful -"  There's tears running down the barkeep's cheeks now.

Some of the other drinkers look uncomfortable, but not surprised, like this is a sight they've seen before.

"Oh," the swashbuckler says.  "Do we know how long."

The barkeep shakes his head.

The swashbuckler realizes, somewhat to his own surprise, that he's also crying.  "Well, He had a good run, since He first got drunk enough to go for the Starstone, you know, having that actually work was more than anyone could've expected, really, and if the tavern rumors are true, it's a fine way to finally go."

The barkeep pours himself a glass, a small one, because it's not the first time he's had this conversation today, and won't be the last, and clinks it against the last of the swashbuckler's beer.  "To Cayden Cailean."

"To Cayden Cailean."

They drink.

"He's obviously not actually dead," the swashbuckler says, after that.  "I'm still getting spells, you're still getting spells.  He could just be - warning us - that it might happen.  Telling us we might need to find a new deity, or else adjust our lifestyles, sometime soon.  Making sure we're not taken by surprise, if it happens."

"Hell of a way to warn us, if it's just a possibility."

"He might still pull through.  He's lucky that way, right?  Practically the god of having things unexpectedly work out okay."

"If He lives, I will Plane Shift to Elysium so I can personally punch Him in the fucking face."

Cayden Cailean doesn't have temples.  It's not on-theme.

In Absalom where He ascended, there's an inn-tavern-cathouse run by a wife-and-husband pair, a madam and a brewmaster.  The drink there isn't especially expensive, nor are the women.  They're tapped by Remove Disease weekly, which usually costs a hefty premium, but the women here tend to run older and not as pretty as most in that tier of the profession.  

If you want a Regenerate on your missing hand, don't bother waving around 750gp, not here.  They don't want the kind of custom that would bring them, if anything that expensive were sold here for money.  Try saying under truthspell that you lost your hand during a drunken fight with a nobleman's bodyguard after the nobleman kicked a beggar in front of you.  Afterwards you might get a drink poured for you that also can't be bought with money, and a night of warmth that's real.

Neither the wife nor the husband has Grand High Anything in front of their titles, or indeed, any particular titles at all.

It is the center of Cayden Cailean's faith in Golarion if anything is.

The revelry in that place has been diminished, these last few days since the gods fought.

"You too," the swashbuckling swordsman in leather armor says to the somber-looking barkeep, as one of the special drinks is drawn for him.

"Yeah."

They haven't lost all their spells.

They've lost some of their spells.  Higher-level ones in particular.  Cayden Cailean is still able to grant a Regenerate, it seems, if that is necessary to restore the missing hand of some drunken do-gooder.

"Any idea why?" says the swashbuckler to the barkeep.  "Sent from Him, or otherwise?  I'm sure not getting any touches of reassurance about it."

The barkeep shakes his head.  "Nothing direct, and what I'm getting implied from - the tavern rumors, that He might influence, from the wanderers that might be drawn here, by His will - it's not -"

There's moisture in the barkeep's eyes.

The swashbuckler sips his drink.  It's still pretty damn good.  "If there's news that bad, it's not going to get better if you delay in the telling."

"The tavern rumors are leaning that He sacrificed too much of His divinity fighting against Zon-Kuthon, so that Zon-Kuthon would die inside the vault after being sealed there.  Just.  You know.  The obvious stupid stuff that drunks make up, because, because how would they know, even if that was true, right?  Probably made up after they heard rumors about His clerics losing some of their spells, and put that together with Cheliax cutting into Nidal faster than expected."

The swashbuckler nods.  "I don't suppose the tavern rumors say that it's just temporary and He'll recover in a year, or a century?"

"Priestesses of - Desna - and Shelyn - have been wandering in, on impulse, they don't know what this place is, but when they get here, they tend to feel an impulse to preach, to our faithful -"  There's tears running down the barkeep's cheeks now.

Some of the other drinkers look uncomfortable, but not surprised, like this is a sight they've seen before.

"Oh," the swashbuckler says.  "Do we know how long."

The barkeep shakes his head.

The swashbuckler realizes, somewhat to his own surprise, that he's also crying.  "Well, He had a good run, since He first got drunk enough to go for the Starstone, you know, having that actually work was more than anyone could've expected, really, and if the tavern rumors are true, it's a fine way to finally go."

The barkeep pours himself a glass, a small one, because it's not the first time he's had this conversation today, and won't be the last, and clinks it against the last of the swashbuckler's beer.  "To Cayden Cailean."

"To Cayden Cailean."

They drink.

"He's obviously not actually dead," the swashbuckler says, after that.  "I'm still getting spells, you're still getting spells.  He could just be - warning us - that it might happen.  Telling us we might need to find a new deity, or else adjust our lifestyles, sometime soon.  Making sure we're not taken by surprise, if it happens."

"Hell of a way to warn us, if it's just a possibility."

"He might still pull through.  He's lucky that way, right?  Practically the god of having things unexpectedly work out okay."

"If He lives, I will Plane Shift to Elysium so I can personally punch Him in the fucking face."

Cayden Cailean doesn't have temples.  It's not on-theme.

In Absalom where He ascended, there's a tavern-cathouse run by a wife-and-husband pair, a madam and a brewmaster.  The drink there isn't especially expensive, nor are the women.  They're tapped by Remove Disease weekly, which usually costs a hefty premium, but the women here tend to run older and not as pretty as most in that tier of the profession.  

If you want a Regenerate on your missing hand, don't bother waving around 750gp, not here.  They don't want the kind of custom that would bring them, if anything that expensive were sold here for money.  Try saying under truthspell that you lost your hand during a drunken fight with a nobleman's bodyguard after the nobleman kicked a beggar in front of you.  Afterwards you might get a drink poured for you that also can't be bought with money, and a night of warmth that's real.

Neither the wife nor the husband has Grand High Anything in front of their titles, or indeed, any particular titles at all.

It is the center of Cayden Cailean's faith in Golarion if anything is.

The revelry in that place has been diminished, these last few days since the gods fought.

"You too," the swashbuckling swordsman in leather armor says to the somber-looking barkeep, as one of the special drinks is drawn for him.

"Yeah."

They haven't lost all their spells.

They've lost some of their spells.  Higher-level ones in particular.  Cayden Cailean is still able to grant a Regenerate, it seems, if that is necessary to restore the missing hand of some drunken do-gooder.

"Any idea why?" says the swashbuckler to the barkeep.  "Sent from Him, or otherwise?  I'm sure not getting any touches of reassurance about it."

The barkeep shakes his head.  "Nothing direct, and what I'm getting implied from - the tavern rumors, that He might influence, from the wanderers that might be drawn here, by His will - it's not -"

There's moisture in the barkeep's eyes.

The swashbuckler sips his drink.  It's still pretty damn good.  "If there's news that bad, it's not going to get better if you delay in the telling."

"The tavern rumors are leaning that He sacrificed too much of His divinity fighting against Zon-Kuthon, so that Zon-Kuthon would die inside the vault after being sealed there.  Just.  You know.  The obvious stupid stuff that drunks make up, because, because how would they know, even if that was true, right?  Probably made up after they heard rumors about His clerics losing some of their spells, and put that together with Cheliax cutting into Nidal faster than expected."

The swashbuckler nods.  "I don't suppose the tavern rumors say that it's just temporary and He'll recover in a year, or a century?"

"Priestesses of - Desna - and Shelyn - have been wandering in, on impulse, they don't know what this place is, but when they get here, they tend to feel an impulse to preach, to our faithful -"  There's tears running down the barkeep's cheeks now.

Some of the other drinkers look uncomfortable, but not surprised, like this is a sight they've seen before.

"Oh," the swashbuckler says.  "Do we know how long."

The barkeep shakes his head.

The swashbuckler realizes, somewhat to his own surprise, that he's also crying.  "Well, He had a good run, since He first got drunk enough to go for the Starstone, you know, having that actually work was more than anyone could've expected, really, and if the tavern rumors are true, it's a fine way to finally go."

The barkeep pours himself a glass, a small one, because it's not the first time he's had this conversation today, and won't be the last, and clinks it against the last of the swashbuckler's beer.  "To Cayden Cailean."

"To Cayden Cailean."

They drink.

"He's obviously not actually dead," the swashbuckler says, after that.  "I'm still getting spells, you're still getting spells.  He could just be - warning us - that it might happen.  Telling us we might need to find a new deity, or else adjust our lifestyles, sometime soon.  Making sure we're not taken by surprise, if it happens."

"Hell of a way to warn us, if it's just a possibility."

"He might still pull through.  He's lucky that way, right?  Practically the god of having things unexpectedly work out okay."

"If He lives, I will Plane Shift to Elysium so I can personally punch Him in the fucking face."

Cayden Cailean doesn't have temples.  It's not on-theme.

In Absalom where He ascended, there's a tavern-cathouse run by a wife-and-husband pair, a madam and a brewmaster.  The drink there isn't especially expensive.  Neither are the women; they're tapped by Remove Disease weekly, which usually costs a hefty premium, but the women here tend to run older and not as pretty as most in that tier of the profession.  

If you want a Regenerate on your missing hand, don't bother waving around 750gp, not here.  They don't want the kind of custom that would bring them, if anything that expensive were sold here for money.  Try saying under truthspell that you lost your hand during a drunken fight with a nobleman's bodyguard after the nobleman kicked a beggar in front of you.  Afterwards you might get a drink poured for you that also can't be bought with money, and a night of warmth that's real.

Neither the wife nor the husband has Grand High Anything in front of their titles, or indeed, any particular titles at all.

It is the center of Cayden Cailean's faith in Golarion if anything is.

The revelry in that place has been diminished, these last few days since the gods fought.

"You too," the swashbuckling swordsman in leather armor says to the somber-looking barkeep, as one of the special drinks is drawn for him.

"Yeah."

They haven't lost all their spells.

They've lost some of their spells.  Higher-level ones in particular.  Cayden Cailean is still able to grant a Regenerate, it seems, if that is necessary to restore the missing hand of some drunken do-gooder.

"Any idea why?" says the swashbuckler to the barkeep.  "Sent from Him, or otherwise?  I'm sure not getting any touches of reassurance about it."

The barkeep shakes his head.  "Nothing direct, and what I'm getting implied from - the tavern rumors, that He might influence, from the wanderers that might be drawn here, by His will - it's not -"

There's moisture in the barkeep's eyes.

The swashbuckler sips his drink.  It's still pretty good.  "If there's news that bad, it's not going to get better if you delay in the telling."

"The tavern rumors are leaning that He sacrificed too much of His divinity fighting against Zon-Kuthon, so that Zon-Kuthon would die inside the vault after being sealed there.  Just.  You know.  The obvious stupid stuff that drunks make up, because, because how would they know, even if that was true, right?  Probably made up after they heard rumors about His clerics losing some of their spells, and put that together with Cheliax cutting into Nidal faster than expected."

The swashbuckler nods.  "I don't suppose the tavern rumors say that it's just temporary and He'll recover in a year, or a century?"

"Priestesses of - Desna - and Shelyn - have been wandering in, on impulse, they don't know what this place is, but when they get here, they tend to feel an impulse to preach, to our faithful -"  There's tears running down the barkeep's cheeks now.

Some of the other drinkers look uncomfortable, but not surprised, like this is a sight they've seen before.

"Oh," the swashbuckler says.  "Do we know how long."

The barkeep shakes his head.

The swashbuckler realizes, somewhat to his own surprise, that he's also crying.  "Well, He had a good run, since He first got drunk enough to go for the Starstone, you know, having that actually work was more than anyone could've expected, really, and if the tavern rumors are true, it's a fine way to finally go."

The barkeep pours himself a glass, a small one, because it's not the first time he's had this conversation today, and won't be the last, and clinks it against the last of the swashbuckler's beer.  "To Cayden Cailean."

"To Cayden Cailean."

They drink.

"He's obviously not actually dead," the swashbuckler says, after that.  "I'm still getting spells, you're still getting spells.  He could just be - warning us - that it might happen.  Telling us we might need to find a new deity, or else adjust our lifestyles, sometime soon.  Making sure we're not taken by surprise, if it happens."

"Hell of a way to warn us, if it's just a possibility."

"He might still pull through.  He's lucky that way, right?  Practically the god of having things unexpectedly work out okay."

"If He lives, I will Plane Shift to Elysium so I can personally punch Him in the fucking face."