Mannix nodded slightly, wishing he could share Goroket's lightness. Then again, if any race lacked softness about the subject, it would be Lizardfolk. He knew that he'd learned how to wield Sacred Flame for good reason. Perhaps a metaphor a forge cleric would like might help?

"...perhaps an untried spirit is like an unmade blade. What was once warm and pliant is, through many blows, hardened and cooled till it is fit for its design."

He stared blankly for a few moments, then strove to talk and think of something happier.

"I...wish that too." Partly due to small land mammals' constant desire for allies and resources. Partly due to what he's read. Old philosophers described friendship as, after religious ecstasy, the greatest happiness mortals could hope to have. And Mannix takes what he reads very seriously. Especially the part about "concordant wills".

"Will you convert? I know all theological essentials. I can't initiate you, but could well lead you to one who could..." He started out very enthusiastic, for he'd never entertained the possibility. Gradually his naivete receded until cold reason told that it wouldn't be so easy. Even Mannix knew how difficult capturing the soul of an outside priest would be. Still, The Church demanded evangelism, and Mannix obeys.