Ranald is the god of trickery, luck, and mischief, the sly patron of thieves, gamblers, charlatans, and every soul who lives by wit rather than honest toil. Where other gods demand solemn worship, Ranald prizes a clever lie, a stolen purse, and a con well played, and his blessings fall not upon the pious but upon the daring and the quick-fingered.
The myths of the Empire of Man name him a rogue who once tricked even the gods themselves, and his cult is a loose and secretive thing, split among faces such as the Deceiver, patron of thieves, the Night Prowler, and the Protector, who shields the poor by robbing the rich. His sign is a pair of crossed fingers, chalked upon walls and doorways by those who claim his favour.
For all his roguery, Ranald is beloved by the common folk, for he is a god of the little people against the mighty. In a world where nobles, priests, and tax-collectors grind the poor beneath them, Ranald is the wink of luck that lets a cutpurse slip the gallows and a beggar cheat a fat merchant of his gold.
To worship Ranald is to trust that fortune favours the clever, and that even in a grim and ordered world there remains room for a laugh, a gamble, and a well-timed trick against those who richly deserve it.
The pantheon continues
