When Sam had initially seen the Gods all he could focus on was Naduir, that she-demon, mother-nature, being of everything he stood for. So it was no surprise to him when she stayed behind to warn them, he was actually sorta already thinking something seemed off when she said it. He went to say something to her but she disappeared and she was replaced with a being of almost total opposition to her, a necromancer. Sam's stomach boiled with rage against the death enchanter as he gave his spectacle with the rocks.

Sam saw it coming and wasn't knocked back like a ragdoll from the explosion, instead he was knocked backwards into a series of backflips that he used to keep himself from being... slammed into the ground like almost everyone else. He was successful in the first several flips but the force was strong enough he couldn't keep track long enough and he ended up falling on his back. He'd laugh if the situation wasn't so serious. 

He sat up to see the tail-end of the spectacle with the dragon. Such a majestic creature killed in such a horrible manner... Sam's stomach boiled again, this time with sickness from the stench of rot and the soup of alcohol he had ingested from that dwarf. He moved forward onto his knees and wretched for a moment, ignoring the "aftermath" and the party-members around him. 

What did he care anyway? Since when did a Naeri rogue care about a party of adventurers? 

Since Naduir called him, that's right.