Nomisa—Gathering Of The Gods

  The room grew still as the system's voice rang out over the small talk.

  Oh, this ought to be good. Let's hear what Nancy-pantsy complaints Rembrand has. Oh noooo, how could you give someone power? Think of the implications. Whatever will I do? Bah, fucking loser. He’s been holding onto his status as one of the more powerful gods for eons now by weaponizing being a fun killer.

  [The first complaint may be spoken.]

  Rembrand slowly stood up, his every movement disconcertingly perfect and controlled. He wiped away the slightest crease on his shirt as if its very existence disgusted him before he spoke. “Friends, colleagues, I have called this meeting today to address the most dire of meddling upon the mortal plane. Now I understand we all make changes; it is our right, nay, our duty as the stewards of the mortal plane.” He gave a long pause for effect. Nomisa could be heard audibly sighing. A few other gods either gave ‘Here we go again’ groans or faint agreements.

  Rembrand whirled an accusatory finger towards Nomisa like a weapon. “But this uncaring cur has introduced pure chaos into the mortal realm for naught but his own amusement. He could have brought forth another dragon with the amount of essence he spent. Or even seeded entire mountain ranges with unfathomable wealth, causing dozens of greed-fueled mining rushes.”

  Rembrand took a deep breath before continuing in a quieter, dire tone, “Instead, he spent it all on giving a single mortal soul powers it should never wield and sitting back to watch as the chaos washes over the rest of us. Multiple monsters in his new dungeon halls are vying for no less than godhood. My first complaint is that Nomisa has purposefully subverted the system into directly providing a dungeon the means to create gods. In the hopes that sympathetic deities will rise to join us.” The room burst into scattered conversations at that.

  Bah, that’s fucking nonsense. I still have no fucking idea what’s wrong with half the monsters in the dungeon. If contempt, or, gods forbid, the “puppy,” makes it to divinity, that wouldn’t be good for literally anyone. Well, Inderin, god of death, might actually get along pretty well with contempt, but for everyone else it wouldn’t be great!

  [The first complaint has been lodged. Opposing may respond.]

  Nomisa took a stand, shaking out his billowing, over-the-top silken dress shirt as he stood, a few coins falling from his sleeves and hem down onto the floor with a tickle. He and Abbicus both watched them roll to a stop. “Don’t touch those. Those are mine.” He said sharply at a frowning Abbicus and turned to the other side of the table.

  Nomisa smiled widely, showing off his garish golden teeth and causing his unnecessarily large eyebrow diamonds to jiggle slightly. “That’s a crock of bullshit. You daring to be judgy about someone else ‘subverting the system’? You, who has been acting as a god of justice for half the damn continent even though that is very, very much so not your domain. As for the rising deities in the dungeon? He’s talking about a fucking murder-happy loot bug and an eldritch puppy, everyone. Yeah, I’ll let that sink in for a minute.” Nomisa actually did; he sat there for an uncomfortably long time pantomiming a loot bug with a scythe.

  The room was silent other than some very violent-sounding snickers coming from the swirling maelstrom of violent intent to his left. Once Nomisa felt like he had properly displayed how fucking ridiculous the god claim was for a pair of still first-tier monsters, he started in again.

  “As for what and how I spend my essence. I’m the god of fucking greed; I pay for a handspan, and I’ll take a league. This time I paid for the damn league, so I'll take it fucking all. How about you pull that stick from where it's lodged sideways so far up your own ass?” The system silenced the room abruptly.

  [The first complaint and rebuttal have been recorded.]

  [Who else wishes to speak for or against the issue?]

  Everyone looked around the room slowly; choosing to speak now one way or the other would be taking a hardline and very public stance against either god.

  To everyone’s horror the shifting form of Vurune rose. A pair of ten taloned claws coalesced to grip the table, and the barest hint of a savage endless maw stilled within the maelstrom to lean over the table and address the room. Several gods nervously looked at each other.

  Rembrand gripped the table so hard it creaked, his temple furrowing in pure rage. A few of the gods on his side, including the peaceful harvest god Lumina, looked like they simply wanted to flee as Vurune’s hungry gaze crossed over each of them in turn, not like they were peers but like they were prey.

  [We will now hear an argument for the dungeon known as greed.]

  The room went deathly still as Vurune spoke publicly for the first time in a millennium. It sounded like the threatening rattle of an eldritch god mixed with the death cries of a dragon.

  Dear sweet fuck, you are creepy as hell. Please don’t antagonize him too much. I’d like this to end with absolutely nothing happening other than dramatic posturing, please.

  “Chaos…should never be stilled; do not hide behind the skirt of the system in your cowardly attempts for control. If you wish to stop the dungeon…then stop it; do not mewl like a lost lamb before us…” He finished with a trailing breath that leaked violent intent.

  No, don’t fucking tell him that that isn’t helping!.

  “Unless you simply can’t? Beset for the first time in the age, you bow before the truly clever, the truly savage among the divine.” Vurune finished with a mocking laugh that sounded like a dying priest's last prayer and simply sat back down.

  Rembrand looked like he wanted to physically throw himself across the table at both Nomisa and Vurune now. His gaze locked onto a god next to him, and Nomisa saw him mouth the words, ‘Do you have faithful in the vale?’

  Oh fucking thanks, you ancient psychopath. I didn’t want to get dragged down into this pissing match this damned directly!

  ***

  Thrognar and the Orphans—Town of Pleasanton

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Resh squinted through the fog coming off of Pleasanton’s obnoxiously large lake towards today’s robbery objective. It took an almost disconcertingly short time for them to find a sketchy individual in a shaded corner of a bar to talk to about joining up with the largest bandit group in the area.

  The Bloody Toes was seriously what the group was going by, and “lucky” for the Orphans, they were in fact recruiting. So one short conversation, Orlock flattening a town guard to prove they weren’t snitches, and a short jaunt to a nearby town later, they found themselves looking out over a compound.

  “Alright guys, the job’s simple: snatch the pig.”

  “Are you sure they were not just hazing us? If there isn’t a pig in there, I’m going to go back and burn down that bar.” Lily looked very unamused at the job they had been given to prove themselves.

  Resh sighed deeply. “And I’ll help you, but...that...” He gestured at the high walls and rooftops peeking out from the mist. “It’s supposed to be the Bernadet Ranch shipping center, sooo we go in, we look for the biggest, meanest prize sow they have, and Thrognar wrestles the pig on out of there.”

  “Thrognar dedicated pig-snatching actor,” he said proudly. The “puppy” gave a soft yip of agreement and held its snoot up for scratches.

  Lily rubbed her hands across her face. “This is painfully embarrassing.”

  Resh didn’t answer; instead, he headed up to a spot on the wall he had scouted earlier that had some loose brickwork that made it laughably easy for him to scurry up the side and peek over like a deranged spider.

  The rancher’s compound was a surprisingly complex affair. The ranch had to be making an awful lot of money to support a place like this just for selling off livestock. The front gate that they were decidedly avoiding had a massive wooden door that left room for oversized livestock carts.

  The guardhouse next to the gate was a log cabin directly attached to a small gate station and a wooden tower. The damned thing was nicer than most of the hovels Resh had lived in in his life.

  Past that was a comfortable-looking administrative building that was ringed by a small rose garden, tiny benches and all. And around the administrative building near the center of the compound were another four homes built just like the guardhouse for workers.

  “Geez…if a life of crime and adventure doesn’t work out, I guess I’ll take up livestock rearing, a plushy-ass gig…” Resh bitterly whispered to himself before looking towards the two closest structures that dominated most of the rear of the compound.

  The first made him flinch a bit; it was a large, square, two-story slaughterhouse and butchery. Even from here the slight coppery smell of blood tickled his senses unpleasantly, and the occasional moo of terror was abruptly silenced.

  The last building was the biggest and presumably where the prized breeding sow they were here to yoink was being housed. It was a barn that took up nearly a third of the compound, generic bright red paint and all.

  Although calling the massive edifice to steaks and human engineering a barn was almost doing it a disservice. Each side had shuttering doors large enough to march entire herds through. Magical enchantments glimmered around vents set throughout the buildings' walls, keeping the air fresh.

  There was even a small collection of Vin-Hounds—freakishly bulky canine monsters that were used for herding—rushing in and out of the building, shoving around cows and sheep every time they tried to wander away from their planned routes.

  Resh looked down at his friends. “Alright guys, you know the plan. Orlock, you are on distraction duty! Lily Thrognar…Puppy? You guys are with me!” Resh threw down his hand and helped pull Lily up. Thrognar jumped right up to the top of the wall and almost effortlessly tossed himself over after them.

  Orlock took a deep breath and put on his best upset face before rushing around the compound to the front gate. The bored-looking pair of men on either side raised an eyebrow at his approach.

  “Damn, that’s a big lad,” one whispered to the other.

  “Probably here for a job,” he mumbled back before turning to Orlock. “Hold up there, young man; only people with official business are allowed on the premises.”

  Orlock stared him down with as much hate as he could muster in his eyes.

  “Uhh, lad? You alright?” The guard edged back a step and gave his companion a nervous glance. The other guard shrugged and put his hand closer to his baton.

  Orlock let out a low growl of displeasure and then, in the scariest threatening voice he could manage, said “Where! IS BESSIE!?”

  “What?” The guards took another step back in confusion.

  “What did you monsters do with Bessie! If you eat her, I’ll fucking eat you!” Orlock pulled out a ridiculously small in his hands fork. “I mean it! Give me back Bessie!” He waved the fork threateningly towards the men.

  Other guards came out to see what all the fuss was; the original pair had drawn their batons and looked thankfully towards the approaching guards. “Did we buy somebody’s pet cow?” One whispered.

  Orlock locked onto him and advanced with the fork held ready to stab. “YOU! YOU KNOW WHERE BESSIE IS!” The guard shrieked as several hundred pounds of "what the fuck is happening" charged at him with the fork held high.

  Resh and the others jogged quietly towards the barn as soon as the panicked screaming in the distance started.

  “That’s right, friend, you save Bessie.” Thrognar huffed to himself to Resh’s disbelief.

  They made it right inside the first doorway without incident. And took a look around. “Oh shit, this might take a bit.” The entire interior was a maddening maze of pens and milling animals. Only a few staff were visible, most refilling vast feeding troughs or trying to pick out the fattest specimens to lead towards their doom.

  A deep growl rolled out from a Vin-hound a few strides away. Resh looked over in concern at the disturbingly muscular dog nearly the same size as the nearby cows. “Uhh shit…so that’s why they don’t have guards over here.” He was about to ask Thrognar to go play with the doggies when the “puppy” started excitedly squirming in the barbarian’s arms.

  “Oh, you want to play!” Thrognar happily set the “puppy” down on the ground, and it pranced over to the snarling Vin-hound that towered above it. The Vin hound locked eyes with the puppy, and its snarls slowly died into a confused growl when the “puppy’s” face slowly stretched into a very, very un-puppy-like smile that nearly reached its fluffy ears, exposing rows of shark-like fangs.

  The Vin-hound gave one more whimper before fleeing. The puppy gave chase, scampering after it with a happy bounce in its step that carried it far faster than should be possible after the terrified monster.

  “Aww, puppy made a new friend.” Throgar looked like a proud parent as his little fluffball hunted the terrified guard dog off into the distance.

  Resh leaned towards Lily to whisper a question. “Have you figured out what the fuck that thing actually is yet?”

  Lily shook her head and whispered back. “No, not yet. Whatever is actually is dark and has an almost unfathomable quality to it. Right now I’ve got even odds on some kind of demon or something that escaped an elder god’s domain and is having the time of its un-life hiding in greed’s dungeon.”

  “Fae maybe?” Resh added curiously.

  “No, I don’t think so; it hasn’t been doing enough random bullshit that I’ve noticed for that.”

  They kept wandering through the wide, mucky pathways between the pens. Lily was aimlessly casting flickers of black flame as they went, obviously bored to death with the job. Thrognar was happily petting everything that would let him and a few things that wouldn’t.

  They stopped when they reached a noticeable breakpoint in the sameness of the pens. Instead of just an endless sea of cows, now there was a bizarre mishmash of different species.

  They saw what looked like person-sized slugs languidly doing small laps around a pen while bobbing their eyes. Another pen held what were just brown balls of fur that rocketed around their enclosure at impressive speeds.

  But finally, towards the center of the exotic mishmash of specialty food items running around, they saw it there, their wondrous prize. Resh cursed colorfully. Thrognar scratched his head thoughtfully. “That—that’s a big pig. Thrognar might need a cart…”

  The pig in question sat in the center of a massive enclosure surrounded by a swirling swarm of healthy pink swine rooting around for any scraps they could gather. It stood so high above the others it wasn’t even funny. Some of the other pigs were damned impressive, easily weighing more than a man. The prized pig, however, was more like the size of an obese bull and could bust out of the pen any damn time it pleased.

  “We…might have to rethink this a bit.”

  “Get Thrognar a leash.” Lily said with an amused smile at the idea she had just had.