Congratulations! For garnering the love and affection of the public by making overly bold claims, pandering to a very specific population, and misrepresenting government funding, you have gained a level in the class [Demagogue].
[Demagogue] now occupies your second major class slot.
[Demagogue] is an intermediate class under the domain of Mordecai, God of Thievery and Deception. Since your first major class, Nether Dokkaebi, is Expert-rank, all new classes you receive will be at rank Intermediate.
This is your second time receiving a class under Mordecai. As such, he has sent you the [Blessing of Honeyed Words], which provides a temporary 30% boost to all deceptive persuasion attempts.
You have gained the skills [Cult of Personality] and [Crowd Control].
[Cult of Personality]: The Demagogue possesses a magnetic personality and the ability to cultivate a devoted following of loyal supporters who are willing to defend and promote their cause. At the first level of this skill, you will receive 1 Loyal Follower.
[Crowd Control]: The Demagogue can effectively manage large crowds, controlling their behavior and inciting them to take specific actions through clever manipulation and stagecraft.
“I hate this,” Momo muttered.
“Why are you mad? That class description is a perfect encapsulation of your last twenty four hours,” Radu said, laughing as Momo frustratedly crumpled the courier into a ball and tossed it into the grass. “You do realize you receive classes based on your actions, right?”
“I take plenty of actions,” she disputed. “And yet the system never decides to send me a class about improving the livelihood of a lizard and his six children, or giving extra good tips to waiters, or petting stray cats. I’d be happy with any of those.”
“I’m pretty sure it did give you a class about petting stray – sorry, dead – cats, but then you somehow evolved it into this,” he said, waving at her protruding horns. “That's all on you. It gave you plenty of evolution options. You’re the one who turned Beast Tamer into Terrifying Nether Demon.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re leaving out a lot of details.”
“And you’re not accepting that you just kickstarted a populist political platform.”
Momo blinked at him, face as blank as a clean whiteboard. “A what?”
“Did you not read that book I gave you about Aloysian political ideology?”
“We both know I don’t read, Radu.”
He groaned, massaging his temple. Momo recognized the gesture – it was lizard body language for maybe I should have left you outside of Nam’Dal when I had the chance.
—
Sponsored by the power of round-the-clock undead labor, the Guild of the Hunt’s newest office took only four and a half hours to construct. Time enough for Momo to cut the ribbon (a piece of leftover rope painted red) and congratulate the Hunt on its fine new establishment.
Of course, there were no representatives from the guild around for Momo to greet and congratulate. Every one of them resided in Jarvirium, and would only receive notice of their organization’s immediate expansion in a week’s time, given the sorry state of the postal system.
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(The mail chute lobbyists weren’t so fond of her defunding their people-transportation branch, so they retaliated by failing to send any mail at all. Now the only efficient way to get anything delivered was by carrier pigeon – and, as it turned out, pigeons were the most unionized bunch of fowls in the entire nation. Same week shipping was out of the question.)
So the only hand she shook belonged to the lizard man, who Momo soon learned was named Tenderscales. With his shiny new bow and shinier new appointed position, he stood long, tall, and heavily burdened by five children climbing up his back and over his shoulders.
“You’ve given me and my family more than I could ever ask for, Ripper,” he said, looking stern in the way that some men do to prevent a sudden outburst of tears. “I owe you a debt I can’t even begin to repay.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she shrugged, thinking that’s what taxes are for, I think. “But there is one small thing you could help me out with - just a bit of detective work I'm doing.”
He nodded fiercely, the toddler strapped to his chest wobbling up and down with him. “Anything at all,” he said.
“Have you heard about the Holy Resistance?” she asked. He looked briefly befuddled, so she went into detail. “Big chunky guys in metal kneepads spewing backwards ideas about necromancy?
“Ah. Right," he said, recognition dawning. "A few came through here a few days back. Our people aren’t too fond of Holy Heads either, so they didn’t bother giving their whole recruitment shtick – they just dropped a can of propaganda posters and ran out of town.” He eyed Cedric’s bridge. “Think most of them got dumped in the river.”
Momo turned towards the stream. Her face fell when she saw that Cedric and Junior had fully abandoned their post. Discarded cans, bottles, pizza boxes and all other varieties of garbage now bobbed up and down in the water, muddying the creek.
“It’s only been four hours,” she balked. “How is there already so much trash?”
Tenderscales shrugged. “The moglis were also the city janitors. And the peacekeepers. And the handymen. Speaking of, do you think we could keep that skelecrew of yours? Would only be right, considering you got rid of our only two assemblymen.”
Momo grimaced. “Wait – didn’t you want them gone?”
“Of course,” he said, certain like only a father of six could be. “But that doesn’t excuse you for firing them.”
—
“What do I do if I don’t like my citizens, Radu?”
“Get into a new line of work, probably.”
“But I only just started a few weeks ago,” Momo sighed. “That’s no time to quit a job. How am I going to explain the gap in my resume?”
“What the hell is a resume?”
The two, with the addition of Grimli, who had become attached to them like one of those too-tight bracelets you couldn’t remove, even when threatened by airport security, bid adieu to the town of nomads and campers and trailed back towards their horses.
As Momo fiddled with Nightmare’s saddle, which had been impaled by several thorny branches, a piece of parchment threatened to impale her through the face.
Cult of Personality Activated!
You have gained 1 new Loyal Follower, Grimli Copperstrings.
You can order Grimli to do your bidding, pay tribute, or go on missions.
“What’s all this about?” she mumbled.
From the corner of her eye, Momo could see Grimli receive his own courier. He whistled happily, tapping his little feet to a non-existent piece of music.
Momo gazed over his shoulder to peer at what got him so excited.
Having shown your exuberant allegiance towards Queen Momo the Ripper, you have been chosen to become her Loyal Follower.
If you choose to accept, you will receive the following bonuses:
* Complimentary Momo’s Campaign Trail! T-Shirt
* Complimentary Momo’s Campaign Trail! Hat
* 50 gold
Eternal Devotion & Employment Terms apply.
This seems like a terrible deal, Momo thought.
“What an incredible gift!” Grimli squealed. After he accepted, the shirt and hat manifested out of thin air, falling out of spacetime and into his open palms. “What a spectacular piece of merchandise!”
He wrestled into the t-shirt immediately, and Momo felt her dignity further vanish into the abyss.
On the front of the shirt, printed in big, blocky, horrendous text, was a speech bubble that read RESURRECT YOUR FAITH IN GOVERNMENT! followed by Campaign promises that never die.
Grimli grinned as he twirled around, saying “check out the back.”
“Who did they get to design this?” Momo groaned.
Drawn in the style of a band tour shirt, a badly painted portrait of Momo giving a double-thumbs up was accompanied by all of the campaign trail’s various stops. First on the list was Jarvirium, obviously, then followed by Refuge’s End, and after that…
Viktor Mole City?
“Wait,” Momo paused, her stomach dropping. “Shouldn’t that say Nam’Dal?”