Lamas had been a farmer all his life, and he produced more grain than anyone in the region. He had this innate ability to time the planting of his grain to after the spring rain storms. Some planted too early and the storms washed away their seeds or exposed them to crows; others planted too late as a precaution, and then suffered from the cold autumn stormwinds. Lamas knew the exact time to plant and others had begun to follow his lead. Lamas put everything into his occupation, wasting no time on merriment or family or any distractions.
One day while in the field, Lamas heard a crack of thunder. Curious, he thought to himself, there were no signs of approaching storms. He looked around and he saw a lone figure standing in the middle of his field. The figure wore tight black trousers and a wide leather harness across his chest. Sliver cuffs adorned his upper arms and his wrists. He held a jagged spear in one hand. Lamas couldn't believe the masculine beauty of the man - the figure was a tall man, medium-build, with flowing black hair cascading just past his shoulders. The man walked toward Lamas, who simply stood there not knowing if it was fear or awe that riveted him to the spot.
"Hello, Lamas, do you know who I am?"
"No, Sir, regretfully, I do not."
"That is quite alright. You have outwitted me for many, many years."
"Really, Lord? If I have wronged you, then please, accept my sincerest apologies," answered Lamas, and he started to collapse to his knees respectfully.
The man's large hand grabbed Lamas and pushed him erect. Lamas felt a bolt of energy rush through his body from the man's touch.
"Lamas, I am Aerric, god of storms and thunder."
Once again, Lamas tried to fall to his knees. Again, Aerric prevented the act.
"Oh, my Lord! Have I offended thee?"
"No, Lamas, I am impressed. You have bested me. I bow to you," replied Aerric and bowed to Lamas with a flourish. "May we go inside and talk?"
Lamas led the man to his small cottage at the edge of his field, turning around every few steps to make sure this was all real. Lamas believed in the gods and presented his offering without fail, but he never had truly believed that they could or would appear in flesh and blood before him. The storm god watched and smiled at the frightened man he followed.
Lamas stumbled into the cottage and immediately rushed to provide some refreshment to the god. Aerric entered the dark cottage and looked around it. It was well-kept and clean, but very sparse in furniture. He sat down at a small table which creaked and swayed as he rested his muscular arms on it.
"Please, Lord, share with me some fresh wine. By the grace of Uri, the vineyard was very productive." He placed a glass and a jug of wine in front of the god.
"Uri's grace? Mmmm, okay," muttered Aerric sarcastically, pouring himself a glass.
"I should be doing that, Master," Lamas pleaded, reaching for the jug. Aerric pushed his hand away.
"Nonsense! It is within my power to pour my own wine. It is a favorite hobby of mine," replied Aerric, giving Lamas a wide grin. Lamas sat back and lowered his head. "Look at me," said Aerric, after gulping down the glass and then refilling it. "Let me see your handsome face." He reached out and caressed Lamas' chin.
Lamas looked up and just couldn't believe the magnificent god sitting across from him. The room seemed to glow from his presence. Aerric poured some wine into another glass and pushed it toward Lamas.
"A toast to a wonderful mortal! Drink up," shouted Aerric, lifting his glass and consuming it quickly.
