In a fantasy universe, what about an Agnostic Cleric? Doesn't really believe in any deity, just posts "help wanted" notices on the divine noticeboard. On the upside, has access to all the spell domains. On the downside, you'd be amazed on just what can count as "healing". -- RecklessPrudence
The Rogue watched the Cleric set up for the night. Usually, there was some kind of impromptu altar or extended prayer session, but this Cleric lit a candle and appeared to meditate for half an hour. After that was done, they blew out the candle and settled into their sleep roll for the night.
"That was amazingly brief," said the Rogue. "Nothing like the pomp and circumstance most Clerics go in for."
"Yeah, I'm not most Clerics," muttered Jansin.
"So who's your God?"
"I don't have one."
T'tavi tried to process that and failed. "Wait. You're an atheist?"
"No. Agnostic. There's a difference. Atheists don't believe in any gods. Agnostics recognise the possibility of divinity, but are uncertain about the 'one true god' part."
T'tavi the Rogue thought about this. For some significant time. "Okay, my brain is trying to burn. How exactly does this work?"
"Look up," said the Cleric. "What do you see?"
"That is the pantheon. Every divine being is a point of light. Old ones, new ones, ones who have yet to be seen... Some flare brightly and fall into ruin. Others wander while others stay firm."
"Okay. Yeah. That kind of describes the gods, I guess."
"Now. Which one is real?"
T'tavi looked up at the scattered brightness above her. "Oh... Right. So they're either all real or none of them are?"
"Indeed. There are those for whom their chosen god is like the sun. It illuminates everything and obscures the others. I would rather the beauty of an uncountable sky." Jansin leaned up on her sleep roll to answer the inevitable question. "There's too many to name, so I sort of put out psychic 'help wanted' fliers. An all-points bulletin. Assistance needed, ASAP."
"Does that work?"
"The whims of one god are ineffable. The whims of multiple gods are surprisingly reliable. There's even odd-job gods out there. Anything for some incense."
T'tavi spent a majority of her watch staring up at the stars. She had always thought the gods had forsaken her because of her thievery, her species, or any number of things that the foaming and angry mouths of the pulpit ranted about.
There were more stars in the sky than she could count. Therefore, more gods than the pulpit pilots could know. Someone, somewhere, had to be a god of Rogues.
I'm here if you want to say 'hello', she thought.