Welcome to the third Interview with a God/dess! This series was designed to help you become more familiar with the various gods of Palandoras and demystify the process of applying yourself to eternal servitude.
Here’s a brief primer on today’s guest, Zepholos, the God of Trade Winds.
Devotion: 
Wind
Shrine location: Shipwreck (location unknown)
Family: Son of Bathoran, God of Aquatic Palandoras and Stratys, Goddess of Atmospheric Palandoras. Brother to Oraeth, God of the Tides.
Zepholos is a shifty sort who can’t seem to stay focused for too long. He’s affable and chatty on the surface, but his single eye hints at a deeper understanding than he lets on. He arrived at the office on the heels of a sudden bluster that swept through the neighborhood.
You got here faster than I was expecting. I take it you didn’t need directions.
“Me? No, I do the directing where I come from.”
And let me ask, since you brought it up. Where can people find you, should they want to worship at your temple?
“Set sail and I’ll do the rest.”
But what if you’re not around?
“Then I suggest one learns how to paddle.”
That’s rather odd. Usually, your fellow gods encourage people to seek them out. But you’re obstinately against gaining a following. Care to explain?
“I’m not like my fellow gods. Take my brother, Oraeth. Haven’t seen him in centuries, though it’s not for lack of trying. The fool laps around every island like a wayward message in a bottle, longing for kindred devotion. He gets it from our mother I suspect. But I never had the patience for family reunions.”
Why the isolation? Are you afraid? Ashamed?
He chortles. “Opposite. I see bravery in defiance.”
Yes, that reminds me about your curse. The god Carcarus put the curse on you after you stole his staff and made it so you could never set foot on solid ground. Why did you need the staff?
Now he sets his teeth. “I needed it to kill the sea monster Mercusp.”
The giant swordfish whom you dueled and lost. An eye, in fact.
“I would’ve finished him, too, had Oraeth not swung the tides against me.”
Stories tell of him trying to save you, that you had challenged Mercusp after getting drunk off an entire spring of ambrosia. You were fighting over a young, mortal woman. The daughter of a sea king.
His remaining eye sparks with amber electricity. “Old myths, nothing more. And I wasn’t drunk.”
Turning to the window, he says, “She was magnificent. The monster Mercusp . . . Before I changed him, he and she were to be married. But her father had promised her to the sea winds, as every king before him. For good fortune. Past kings had done it out of respect, but his was pure arrogance. It was no promise, but a taunt. So I meant to take what was mine.”
I find that rather troubling if I can be so frank. A being of your stature shouldn’t feel so slighted by a mortal, king or otherwise. To ruin a man and a woman’s life over your ego is simply unbecoming of a god. But we’re running out of time. Let’s move on. I want to know what you’re doing to try and stop the titan Gorath.
“Nothing.”
If it makes landfall, it will destroy the city of Thermopolis.
“I’m not intrigued by the affairs of the continent.”
But Gorath is still at sea, in your realm. You could stop it, couldn’t you?
“Of course, but I don’t see the reason why I should. What has Thermopolis ever done for me? They are a people who follow mercury-induced hallucinations and tawdry charlatans.”
More will fall than just Thermopolis. And what will you do when Gorath’s siblings awake, too? They will not be sated on only the continent’s innards. The islands and ships at sea will be ripe for plucking.
“By then, I’ll already be gone.” And with a wink, he dematerializes into a spray of seawater, leaving a frond of slimy kelp behind on my desk with a plop.
Join us next time when we try to commune with another god in Palandoras’s pantheon. Until then!
