So one of my first campaigns ever (3.5 edition with full catalogue access), my friends and I were around 16/17 and our DM was just getting used to the idea. The party was a Dwarf Barbarian, a Half-Elf Cleric, a Drow Ninja, and me, a Venerable Kobold Wizard focused on Conjuration. The character had a vastly more epic name but I was called Squeak because the first melee attack he took had him make a squeak of agony. We had to clear out a goblin cave and the DM was stingy with loot. Like nothing ever. So after the 4th or 5th room, the party pitched a fit. So after I was the only one to succeed in searching the room, he angrily hands me the item card for the Vorpal Butter Knife (1 damage dagger that instantly broke when used against non-food). I quietly stowed that away for later, as you would.
So a couple months later, we were around level 9, and the DM wanted to start a new campaign, but couldn't just rocks fall us. So we entered the dungeon to two doors: one was a hallway of poisoned scythe traps and the other was a massive wooden door. We chose the door. So we followed party protocol (send the dwarf in first), and we wait silently as the DM took the dwarf player away. About ten minutes later, he says we hear nothing and about ten minutes IG had passed. So the cleric rushes in. Second verse, same as the first. So the rogue and I enter. Before us is a Half-Fiend Shadow Dragon (DM later confessed that this was the BBEG for the epic end of our intended campaign, who was something like CR50). He utterly slaughters the Drow, and I'm told I get one round to try and kill him. I flip through my inventory. I smile as I draw the Vorpal Butter Knife (much to the astonishment of our DM, who thought I sold it off a while ago) and I inform him I'm going to chuck it at the Dragon. Natural 20, Confirmed, and Vorpal. The dragon is decapitated by a golden light as the Kobold stares in awe. I ascend to like level 40 or something because of XP.
Suddenly, time stops and my party is revived. And from a golden light, Olidamara, the god of luck, descends. Not an Aspect, not an Avatar: the god himself. He hands me the ring of his divine office with three words I'll never forget: "I fucking quit." And thus, Squeak is now the God of Luck in his campaigns from this day forward. According to my old DM, he had a Cleric worship Squeak for most of the campaign. I still laugh, since this was what gave me my love for D&D: a simple plucky Kobold that played tomfoolery with Luck and became a God.