All was perfectly normal, until the moment Mibbet stepped on the replica Lily pad, then with one step it all went weird. As she landed on the stone it started to glow, and Mibbet found strangely for a short time that gravity seemed to have been written in the suggestions box of reality, and as we all know nobody ever follows what they have to say. So our froggy princess found herself floating a few feet above, and wondering just what the hell was going on. Her guards dashed to and fro trying desperately to reach her, but for reasons as of yet unknown they couldn’t get through an invisible wall around the pond.

Sir Leeroy of course true to his family reputation tried repeatedly to follow the old motto, Ne putes crimen (don’t think charge.) As a result he was repeatedly slamming head first into the barrier over and over again. He even tried leaping from his charging horse, which of course only resulted in him sliding down the invisible wall like a pigeon after an unfortunate encounter with a window.

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Lo deep within the swamp something stirred, the great (and now much greater for all the worship) God Wannashowa stirred. An eye as big as Rascal peered at his most loyal priestess, even though they were miles apart, and with a pop a tiny froggy cherub appeared.

“Hi there, it looks like you’re trying to bestow a blessing, would you like help with that?”

Wannashowa eyed the newfound annoyance with curiosity.

“Bestow a blessing?” He asked.

“Please define parameters of object:blessing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen mate, I’m on the clock so I’ll make this simple. You can give your little worshipper a present, but it would be rude for me to pick it for them, it’s up to you as the boss, so what’ll it be? Long life? That one’s always popular, beauty? Long *ahem* maybe not for a girl, though there are cases, let’s not be prejudiced. Charm? Wit?”

Wannashowa pondered for a moment, remembering his worshipper was a frog. “Alright, I think I’ve got this, one thing she’s bound to miss.

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As suddenly as the glow appeared it faded away, dropping Mibet back on the cold stone with an unceremonious OOMPH. (Usually you would expect some kind of careful ascent, maybe some angel song and divine light, maybe even some floating feathers, but Wannashowa was new at this so cut the poor guy some slack.)

Surprisingly the first to the Princesses side wasn’t Sir Leeroy but Mayor Pyncher. ( Proving once and for all Nothing is faster than stingy a mayor who has the impression they may get sued.)

Mibbet eyed the suddenly fervently bowing priests, (who were mostly here because it seemed like a cushy job with no complications until just now.) “The Saintess is blessed,” shouted Priestess Shuns (Donna to her friends,) with far more fervour than the unenthusiastic look earlier had hinted at.

Mibbet seeing the zealotous eyes of the assembled priests, that looked at that moment looked more predatory than a hungry owl who just spotted a field mouse followed her instinctive reactions, and JUMPED.

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The assembled crowd was taken by shock when the Princess suddenly bounded 10 paces from the pond in a single leap, somehow landing on her feet (even if said feet ploughed a furrow and skidded a ways upon landing. Of all the things they expected to see today High Hopping Heiresses was definitely not one on the list. So they gaped, and gawped, and some even swore. The Priests on the other hand were far too busy being weirded out. they heard the gods gave many gifts, but they were usually far more ephemeral in nature. (Or pointy and given to heroes to wield until they succeeded in whatever quest the gods deemed worthy, or more likely entertaining at that moment in time, or they got eaten, whichever came first.)

Still a blessing was a blessing, and blessings meant bums in pews, and donations in tins. So it was up to them to make sure this blessing seemed like the best thing since sliced bread, or better an less appreciated buttered crumpets.

“The Princess is a warrior, a leap like that will serve her well in battle?” Priestess Shuns suggested, barely keeping the question from her tone, but carefully shaping the words as they slipped out to sound more like a compliment on the gift.

Father Weedle who was smart enough to realise this could go either way, and didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the royal family decided that if all else failed doubling down was the way to go, otherwise people go from praising you for stuff to asking you to take responsibility. “Indeed it seems like it could be the ideal gift for her, and a blessing from a God is always a great thing,” he said. (Ignoring, or rather conveniently forgetting the unfortunate time the minor god Heamaroidas took it into his head to bestow his “gifts” upon a small town, and the results.)

Mibbet meanwhile was reinforcing that opinion greatly by laughing as she bounded around like a caffeinated grasshopper. There was a hop, and it was all hers, SHE HAD HER FROGGING HOP BACK. Now she was only one long tongue shy of her great froggy glory restored. She dashed into the shrine, emptying one of her coin pouches into the donation tin, then cried out the command to Mayor Pyncher, proffering a bag of coin that a bulk of Madam Monchees Deluxe Edition (That would be the ones in a really fancy tin with gilt edges and everything,) be brought forth at once to be offered to the altar.

It took some searching, but eventually a runner was sent to the next town over to retrieve the tins. (Yet again it was poor Errol, the amount of running that boy did in full armour before long he would have legs like an Olympic sprinter, and he did it all in armour 2 sizes too big.)

Lo the offering was placed, and the voice of the Great God Wannashowa rang out. “You’re welcome, oh and thanks for the biccies.” It said.