Seeping

This chapter fought me hard, making me rewrite it twice and I'm still not entirely happy with it. GW cutting off their legs because they think they can run faster on their hands has certainly not helped, though the hateful melancholy it left me with was almost inspiring in its awfulness. Eventually I decided that Lord Erran is going to remain pretty much purely Nurgle themed, but he'll throw in a bit of lip service to the other gods and some plagues themed after them eventually.

I grinned, staring up at my putrid monument to the darkest gods with joy shining from my eyes. While I would have preferred more and higher quality components, I felt I had managed to make a magnificent display nonetheless, a perfect exemplification of my vision of Chaos wrought in decaying flesh and rusting chain!

The still living upper body of the fool who challenged me when I entered hung from the ceiling, suspended on rusted chains piercing his putrefied shoulders and winding down through his still pulsating organs to entangle with his hanging guts. Around his feebly beating heart was the mouldering skull of the uppity fool who puked out his organs, the star of Chaos carved into it and ever weeping a tar like fluid that flowed over and through the eye sockets like oily black tears.

Beneath the ever weeping man's ragged torso, wrapped up in his festering intestines and the chains woven through them, was a statue of Nurgle made up of mouldering wood and the other rotten carcass in the building. It was crude, broken boards and shattered bones held together by purtifacted viscera and corroded chain, but it managed to get across his cheerful smile (made of bone fragments) and magnificent antlers (formed of ribs and boards held together with intestines). I had molded it like clay or paper mache, a frame of rotten wood and bone coated in layers of mangled and rotten flesh and rusted chain to form a recognizable shape. His symbol was displayed proudly on his chest inside yet another Chaos star.

Beneath the mighty Poxfather's rotting effigy was an indent in the ground, shaped like the Lord of Decay's symbol and once more surrounded by the star of Chaos, the entire thing filled with the bile and liquifacted flesh that forever dripped from my detractors ever leaking body. Intestine wrapped chains sprouted from Papa Nurgle's rotund belly, extending out to wrap around three smaller shrines with the symbols of the other three gods engraved upon them arranged in the center of Nurgle's circles.

I turned from my altar and faced my captive audience, gesturing for them to bow. It took them a second to understand and comply, aptly assisted by my loyal daemons kicking the back of their knees and forcing the heads of those more hesitant amongst them down under foot. I gave a fatherly smile as I looked out over my kneeling flock, "My children, though we may not have met under the most auspicious circumstances-

I was very rudely interrupted with a cry of "The fuck's "Ah-spi-shus" spossed tah mean?"

My eyes narrowed even as I kept my smile up, a single thought having the ignorant savage hauled to their knees and thrown over their fellows; they hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop at my feet with a groan of pain. I smiled down at the ignoramus, masking my contempt behind a veil of religious sympathy. I spoke down to them in the same gentle tone I used when I began my speech, "It means, you contemptible sack of wasted sperm, that any hopes you may hold of walking away from here with your body and soul intact should be abandoned in the same ditch your parents' dream of having a decent son died in."

He gaped at me, dull brown eyes uncomprehending as my gentle tone clashed with my vicious words; his simple mind just couldn't handle the conflicting stimuli, but I could see the moment he decided that anger was the answer to his confusion. Of course, before he could even consider taking a swing at me, his eyes were drawn to the stark reminder of just why he was on his knees as it moaned pitifully behind me. My smile widened, gaining a cruel edge as he audibly gulped, "A-ah. Y-y-yeah boss, wha-whatever you say." I could tell he still didn't quite understand me, but I also didn't care.

I nodded paternally, stroking his head with a gentle hand and ignoring how clumps of hair began to fall out beneath my fingers. His scalp began to seep brackish blood as I addressed the crowd once more, "Regardless of how we met, I have come to tell you of the true gods." My fingers tightened in the impudent fool's hair, tugging his head to the side as I waved my other hand over my statue. I pointed to the symbol directly in front of Nurgle, "This symbol represents Slaanesh, the Prince Of Pleasure and Pain, the lady of revelry and perfection, the bringer of the ever distant dream. She heightens the senses, turns all sensation into pleasure, and delights in the pursuit of perfection, whether it be in artistry or combat or anything else. She wants you to go further, to see your limits and try to surpass them and to pursue pleasure with every breath. The patron of torturers and artists alike, she wants you to find joy in what you do and do what brings you joy." A somewhat censored depiction, but I don't exactly want my forces to become the utterly worthless fuckwits most Slaaneshis devolve into eventually; having excessively useless soldiers was decidedly less than optimal. Even with this portrayal, I'd need to carefully monitor any who show the inclination towards the Prince for signs of becoming useless.

I shifted my hand to point at the skull rune to Nurgle's right, "This is the sigil of Khorne, the god of war and honour, the patron of soldiers and champions, and the lady of bloodshed and destruction. The blood god, she who rewards murder and martial achievment with power and strength, who punishes betrayers and weaklings alike. The strong right hand of Chaos, enforcing what few codes it has with liberal applications of slaughter and strengthening those who prove their power and honour." Turning Khornates into my enforcers rather than just a horde of rabid animals would be a decided improvement, and of course I was gonna try and turn the gods female; why wouldn't I want to have them as part of my harem if I get the chance? I want my Khornates to be honourable, but only internally; honour is less than useless in war after all. "The Bloodgod values those that hold to their codes of honour amongst other Chaos forces, but apostates, heretics, and heathens are without honour themselves and receive no protection from the red god; the very best they deserve is to have their skulls added to the skull throne, no matter the means."

My extended finger trailed over to the symbol behind and to the left of Nurgle's jolly form, "This is the symbol of Tzeentch, the lord of magic and technology, the mother of plots and schemes, the patron of mages and intelligence agents, the advisor of the lost and she who guides the hand of progress. She delights in improvement and change, in ambition and learning." I had little good to say about the deceiver, and needed to change almost everything if I wanted to complete the set; a literal god of betrayal and random change was an active hindrance to any attempts to unify Chaos, so I had to carefully excise that element. "Tzeentch is the patron of tacticians and scholars, of mages and scientists, and to a lesser extent spies, proselytizers, and infiltrators seeking to convert others to Chaos."

My smile widened and grew more genuine as I gestured to the massive statue of Nurgle, "And this, standing above her lesser kin, is Mother Nurgle, the god of disease and decay, of misery and acceptance, contentment and focus, of life and fertility, of enjoying what you have and accepting who you are. Nurgle is the kindest and strongest of the four, lending her blessings to all and gifting even the faithless and unworthy with her teeming creations." I began to pace, feverish fervour filling my voice as I dragged the upstart along, "She loves you just the way you are, encourages you to be yourself and do as you please, she forgives your transgressions and rewards your efforts even if things don't go as planned." I gesticulated wildly, "She loves all life, cherishing the first cry of a newborn baby just as much as the first wriggle of a maggot! She holds you together, even when everything falls apart! She gives you the strength to carry on when all hope is lost, frees you from all pain and discomfort, and grants you the power to spread her love far and wide! Give yourself to the Plaguemother, and you will never suffer or fear anything ever again! Beneath the rotting aigis of Mama Nurgle, even death becomes naught but a minor impediment! Her love is eternal and all encompassing, just as her victory over all things is as inevitable as the ticking of the clock. Bring misery to her enemies, bring them her gifts, and she will make you immortal and filled with unending happiness and contentment." I smiled, hearing my demons clap and ignoring the nervous shuffling of my captured hosts. Nurgle was the only god I didn't really have to change all that much, he was already a perfectly fine god and the only one that didn't have any problems holding together an organized force. All I really changed was his gender and perhaps a slight emphasis on her positive traits.

Here I turned my back on the crowd, gazing up at my great work. "And above and around them all," I traced my finger over the ring of spikes surrounding the statue, "He Who Holds The Chains, the god of Chaos Undivided, the man Everchosen to hold the reigns of the Gods and gather their chains in hand…" I spread my arms wide, tossing aside the man I had been dragging along, "Me. Lord Erran, the Lord Of Chaos, the Maker Of Chains, the Everchosen King, He Who Stands Above And Beside, the one the gods swear allegiance to above all others, the Wer Of Darkness, and a few thousand more titles."

I swept my gaze across the crowd, seeing skeptical gazes amongst those few dumb or brave enough to display any degree of hostility. "I'm well aware some of you have your doubts as to my claims, being the lord and master of such mighty entities does seem like a bit of a stretch even for one so powerful as I." I smiled disarmingly, placing a hand on my chest, "Even I was stunned when they declared me their king, but the explanation given cleared things up. You see, for millions and millions of years the gods warred amongst themselves, sending trillions of their servants and daemons to their deaths in a bid for absolute control over the heavens. Eventually, a faction of mortals arose with the interesting idea of worshipping all of the gods together, Chaos Undivided for the very first time. Under the banner of all four gods, this faction proved more successful than any of them individually ever had."

I waved a hand theatrically, "For the first time since time began, the gods actually worked together. The results were spectacular, billions of worlds falling to their combined might even when their fractious nature had their forces frequently squabbling and turning upon each other. By the time this temporary alliance achieved its goals and the hatred the gods had for each other splintered their unity, the idea of just how effective they were together had wormed its way into their minds. Stubborn Khorne ignored it, drowning the thought beneath rage and bloodlust as she does all things that unnerve her. Slaanesh saw the perfection it offered, but despaired at her own inability to look past herself and drowned her sorrows in drugs and sex. Tzeentch saw the magnificence of the change such unity brought, but balked when she realized the price."

I sighed heavily, shaking my head at the imaginary folly of the gods in this made up event before once more smiling brightly, "However, the greatest and wisest amongst them realised that if Chaos could not unite, they would surely fall to the mindless aggression of the upstarts across the multiverse. She pondered how best to forge Chaos anew, and came to the conclusion that her siblings would never willingly work together… unless someone forced them to. And so she schemed a scheme that even Tzeentch would look upon with awe, a plot to create an entity that could unite Chaos once and for all… The Everchosen Emperor, a mortal man ascended to divinity as the God of all Chaos." My eyes glowed with my psychic might as I spoke, my outstretched arms casting a long shadow as golden light seemed to shine down on me from behind. "She chose me, of all the infinite teeming masses, for this position of dominance over herself and her kin. For being the very first of her siblings to swear fealty to their new god, to give her love freely and unremittingly to her new husband and king, she forever sealed her place as chief amongst the four, beneath only me." It doesn't much matter if they initially believe me, I just need the thought to spread and be reinforced until it seeps into their core and more and more people begin to believe it. Get the idea into their heads, reinforce it repeatedly, and keep up pressure and isolation until the memetic hazard that is Chaos burns away all doubt. It doesn't even matter if it's true, so long as enough people believe it it will become true in the Warp.

The illusory light faded as I lowered my arms, though my eyes still glowed. "The other gods were more hesitant at first, but they too swore allegiance eventually. For their reticence, they were made subordinate to Great Nurgle, rendered down to be masters of her greatest plagues but only lesser gods on their own." I waved a hand dismissively, "Truthfully, it was an upgrade for them." I didn't elaborate further, allowing them to come to their own conclusions on why that was.

I would need to actually develop thematically appropriate diseases for the other gods, but for now these fools would be too afraid of me to bother questioning the religion I was forcing upon them. Long before they would be able to even consider a question like that, their minds and souls would be mine.

Genial smile firmly in place, I strode over to where the man I tossed aside lay near the foot of my altar. I extended a hand to him, "Will you be the first to volunteer for baptism? To be reborn beneath the aegis of generous, rewarding gods?" I didn't bother waiting for his reply, grabbing him by the back of the head and dunking him into the pool of slime at the base of my monument.

He gurgled and thrashed, his flesh already visibly bloating even as his skin went black and runny wherever the putrid yellow-green fluid touched. Boils spread across his skin like wildfire, bursting open in rivers of yellow, infected pus where they rubbed against one another. I kept a gentle smile on my face even as specks of mouldering flesh splattered across it, "All you need do is give me your soul, child, and all your pain will end. Swear yourself to me, and you will never know suffering again."

He screamed into the muck, fear and agony tainted bubbles boiling up around his hairless head. It didn't take long for him to break, to cry out for salvation, to give his soul to me for an end to the agony. My smile widened, spreading across my face like a creeping cancer as I pulled the ragged man out of the pool in a splash of fetid fluids. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, yellow and deformed but still barely able to see as they slowly turned their swollen mass to meet my burning, pitiless gaze. There was relief in those engorged eyes, a happy sort of devotion that shown from within.

An unearthly fire burned behind my eyes as I grinned at the man, patting him on the check and ignoring the pus that splattered over my hand in response. Still grinning, I shoved the man aside hard enough that he slid across the ground, leaving a yellow-brown smear behind him.

I turned to the crowd, "Bring up the next volunteer." Without so much as a gesture from me, my daemons began shepherding the crying and screaming soon-to-be cultists up to me one by one; by the time I was through, their tears had turned to those of joy.

All Might frowned, watching his apprentice train his former Quirk. She was currently twisting a bar of steadily rusting steel as if it were made of wet clay, displaying an ease and control even he himself had never shown. While she could only draw upon what she described as forty percent of the Quirk's power, she could do so absolutely effortlessly.

She had also grown noticeably larger as she gained more and more control over One For All, having shot up from her already imposing nine foot to easily over fifteen. Fortunately, she seemed to have picked up the ability to… he struggled to put a solid name to it, not shrink but simply be smaller when needed? Warp space? Ignore physics seemed most fitting. She could fit into smaller spaces than made any logical sense, easily walking through standard human hallways without issue and not even really needing to duck under doorways despite being more than twice their height.

The first time he looked too closely at what she was doing as she casually strolled through a space half her size, his mind had started twisting itself in knots trying to comprehend what he was seeing. He had stopped questioning it when he found himself unconsciously starting to babble nonsense and claw at his eyes, much to Izuku's concern when she'd noticed. It had been rather awkward to be shaken out of a hysterical fit and find himself staring into the concerned face of the source of his burgeoning madness. He had brought this… issue up with Nezu, but the hyper intelligent creature hadn't gotten back to him since he sent him the camera footage that had sent him into a catatonic state for several minutes when he looked too closely at it.

He was beginning to get the feeling that was not a good sign...

High pitched laughter drew his mind back to the present in time to see a small, impish creature happily presenting the rotting body of what looked like a rat to his heir. A dozen of the little creatures cavorted about around her, merrily playing in the sludge and filth that coated every surface of his former personal gym. The cheerful little creatures had started popping up after she grew to ten feet, just crawling out of slime pits and from amongst the rotting foliage of the mutated and sickly plants and fungi that had started growing from the decay.

The way they acted, he was almost tempted to call them cute if it weren't for literally everything else about them that pointed them out as gross and horrifying. He had had to go to a lot of sensitivity training after that one time he called a particularly "genetically unfortunate" villain a "monster" on live television, but even the memories of hours of droning speeches in incessantly saccharine voices wasn't enough to keep the instinctive cringe from his face at the sight of those child sized monstrosities. They were like rotting children, mangled, malformed, and full to bursting with pus and maggots, but animate and cheerful nonetheless.

He watched them frolic around his apprentice with a frown. He knew it had been a potentially ill-advised decision to give his Quirk to the girl after her… transformation, but he hadn't expected it to actually enhance her sickness. He hadn't considered that whatever this horrid disease was would apparently synergize with One For All so disturbingly well; considering the sheer power of the quirk was the only reason his battered husk of a body could move, he had rather thought it might improve her condition.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair; at least the little creatures had been killing vermin. Though, he'd noticed there were a lot more rats and roaches than he recalled seeing before.

I smiled, looking over my congregation as they prayed and wept to me and the monument at my back. I could feel their weak, watery faith flowing into me and disturbing the Warp, giving me power, if only slightly. I would need far more numerous and more devoted worshippers before I held anything approaching divinity, but even this much felt great. Perhaps part of that was simply the rush of power from having sycophants worshiping me, but I hardly cared if so.

Every member of my flock was in various states of sickness, ranging from obvious and disfiguring amongst those that resisted all the way down to barely visible at all amongst those that gave over their souls before I even baptized them. I still dunked them, of course, but those blessings they picked up in the brief submergence were few and easily hidden; Nurgle rewards resilience, even and perhaps especially in futility.

I dismissed my cultists to their prayers with some platitudes, retreating back to the upper level with the boss and her former upper management fellows. I settled into the head chair with two Plaguebearers at my back, ignoring the rotting brain matter and food splattered across the table as I gestured for my new lieutenants to take their seats.

I took a sip of spoiled wine, noting the swirling bits of fungus and bacteria added a lovely flavour to the chunky slop as my new servants hesitantly sat around me. I set the fuzzy glass down with a smile, "Well gentlemen, give me your names, Quirks, and specialties then get me up to speed on what the local crime and hero scene is like."

One particular stoic japanese man with a square jaw, milky green eyes, and waxy, jaundiced skin that seemed stretched thin across his bloated form tapped a tumbler of fetid whiskey on the table, "You called us by name during the baptism, are you not already aware of who we are?"

I chuckled, taking another sip of my wine before I answered. I took a moment to roll the gelatinous, grainy mass around on my tongue and felt something squirming about my teeth as I maintained unblinking eye contact with the other man. He kept his composure with remarkable grace, seeming less bothered by my uncomfortable staring than most around him. I spat into my glass, watching the bacterial clouds and fungus act like disturbed sediment as small worms swam about in confusion. I swirled my drink as I leaned back in my chair with a wave of my hand, "Tell me anyway."

He nodded slightly, "Very well. My name is Yorohanaki, my quirk," he raised a hand, showing dark green, spiky tendrils slithering out of his sleeve, "Soil, allows me to control plants grown within my body. Before your blessing the agony growing, feeding, and manipulating plants caused me made it all but useless..." A small smile spread across his face, "but now I feel no pain, fear no harm…" He trailed off, his smile growing slightly manic as I spotted things writhing beneath his skin. After a moment he shook himself out of whatever trance he'd fallen into, "I am in charge of the manufacturing and distribution of narcotics, my lord."

Well, I wasn't about to rebuff fanaticism directed towards me; it is rather the whole point of forming a cult with me as a god, after all. Rather than discuss his obvious psychological issues, I simply nodded and gestured for the man next to him to speak. He was a blond man with tan skin and red eyes who I immediately marked for assassination if any of my girls started acting strange at all. He grinned, revealing shark-like teeth. "Name's Fujun and I run the brothels! My quirk, Emotivore, lets me drain the emotions out of people! I use it too suck out all the hope, despair, and will to fight from our drugged up sluts and make sure the clients don't start feeling bad for 'em and get some stupid ideas in there heads, yeah!" He was certainly an… enthusiastic sort.

I nodded, shifting my gaze to the blank faced woman sitting across from him. She nodded, her lightless black eyes meeting my burning green without so much as blinking, "I am Yessika, my Quirk is Despair." She raised her hand, black slime oozing out of it and dripping onto the table. I noticed those sitting around her leaning further away from her, looks of misery rapidly overtaking them as she spoke. Every word seemed to make everyone around me more and more miserable, though I found her voice quite pleasant. "I radiate misery, crush dreams with a touch, break hope with a whisper, and ooze congealed depression." The tar-like slime dripping from her hand suddenly began to move, lifting off the table to form into a swirling ball above her hand. "A single touch from this slime will induce crippling depression, often resulting in the victim killing themselves on the spot."

She flicked the ball at me, splattering the black gunk all over my face. I had expected at least one of these ruffians to try something, I wouldn't have respected them if they didn't!

I could feel her shock when a smile spread over my face, rumbling laughter spilling between my yellow teeth. "Ahahahahahaha! You've got some balls on ya to try something like that! Though, you couldn't have picked a worse target if you tried!"

I slammed my hands on the table as I stood up, rot spreading so rapidly across it that it was beginning to crumble into wet dust before I was even fully on my feet. My smile was wide and toothy, a yellow gleam in my bloodshot eyes as I spoke, "I am wrapped in Mother Nurgle's loving embrace, mere mortal despair has nothing on the sheer depths of the abject depression that seethes behind my eyes! You cannot begin to fathom the infinite abyss that is her heart, the all encompassing breadth of her festering love."

My hand shot forth, long fingers wrapping around her face. As the flesh beneath my fingers turned black and runny I chuckled, "You wield despair, I am despair." I allowed her flesh to bubble and pop under my grasp for a moment before releasing her, leaving a blackened handprint of rotted flesh over her once beautiful face. "Know your place, and you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams. Fight me, and suffer more than your feeble mind could ever imagine." Channeling my inner edgy highschooler was surprisingly fun, especially when I actually did have the daemonic power to back it up. Being a Chaos champion is turning out to not be all that much different than being an edgy teenager had been, it seems; just with noticeably more actual violence and daemons.

She collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap, covering her face with her hands and feebly crawling away from me. I sneered down at her, decidedly unimpressed, "Don't start fights you can't finish, lass; especially if you aren't prepared for the consequences of failure." I planted my foot between her shoulder blades, pushing her down into the rusty grating beneath us. My sneer only deepened as she let out a miserable wail. "I'm half tempted to hand you over to that blond fuckboy and let him whore you out for this ugly display, but that refreshing shot of liquid misery has me in a forgiving mood."

I slid her forward, kicking her away like a ugly rug on a hardwood floor. She didn't make it far, the rough grating tearing her skin and clothes but also preventing her from falling down the stairs as I had intended. Deciding on a different course on the spot, I picked her up by her hair and bodily threw her back into her seat. As she slowly settled into her chair, I sat back down at mine, adjusted my worn out hoodie as if it were a fine suit, and gestured for the brown haired man sitting next to her to introduce himself. He looked fairly normal, all told; almost too normal actually, as if every single feature of him was carefully designed to be as average as possible. If it weren't for his lazy posture and partially slackened expression he wouldn't have stood out at all. The only sign of my blessings were his slightly clammy skin and visible veins.

He spared his visibly distraught coworker a mildly concerned look -though, whether his concern was over her continued sobbing or fear he could wind up like her, I didn't know- before clearing his throat, "I am Sam Hartford, my Quirk, Ultranumb, allows me to induce physical and mental numbness in those I touch. Because of this, I'm in charge of the kidnapping side of the gang. One touch, and people tend not to be able to put up much of a fight; hard to resist when you can't feel the ground beneath you and your thoughts are coming in all fuzzy like." He paused for a moment, seemingly finished before jolting and speaking up just before I moved on to the man across from him, "Oh, I'm also the one who harvests organs or cuts off fingers and the like whenever we do that, but we haven't been big in the black market organ trade or ransom business for awhile now so it isn't super relevant."

I gave him a nod, gesturing for the rather interesting looking man sitting across from him to speak up. He was taller than even me and entirely hairless, though both of these traits paled compared to his most distinctive feature; he was absolutely covered in hundreds or possibly thousands of eyes, their electric purple irises standing out sharply from his stark white skin. He smirked at me, his innumerable eyes constantly on a swivel even as his the only two eyes a normal person would have focused on me. "Name's Yonny, I specialize in information gathering, surveillance, and blackmail." He reached one long and thin fingered hand up, picking a random eye off of his shoulder and plucking it out with a wet sucking sound. Seemingly unconcerned by the pinkish slime oozing from his now empty socket, he held up the plucked eye between his forefinger and thumb; after a moment, the orb vibrated harshly and two light pink bat wings seemingly formed of nervous tissue formed on either side of the eye.

He released his now flying eyeball with a hum, "That used to hurt quite a bit before this whole baptism thing." Shaking his head with a chuckle, he gestured at the macabre little eye-bat, "My quirk, cleverly named "Eyes" allows me to pluck out my eyes and turn them into these cute little familiars. I can see through them and control them from what so far seems to be any distance, and I use this to spy on people and use the things they do in private against them." He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in his seat and popping a cigarette into his mouth, "When I'm not actively controlling them they do their own thing, generally just floating about and looking at whatever they want." He lit up his death stick with a few clicks of a custom silver lighter engraved with what appeared to be a picture of his own little familiars. Seemingly unconcerned for how irreverent he appeared, he sighed out a cloud of smoke into the air above him. "If they get destroyed, it hurts like a bitch and takes a week for them to grow back."

I watched his flying eye as it darted through the air at seemingly random, eventually deciding the tiny little creature was adorable and promptly deciding not to punish him for his clear lack of respect. I may have decided to fuck with him anyway, if it weren't for the sheer apathy I could feel radiating from him; I could tell he was some sort of nihilist before he even opened his mouth, likely as part of the bone deep despair he seemed to have simply gotten used to. As a true son of Nurgle, I couldn't help but respect that kind of personality.

Of course, if he ever actually tried challenging me he'd find himself weeping a lot more than pink slime before I was done.

There were only two people left that hadn't introduced themselves, barring Harek herself and the brain matter festering to my right but I hardly felt either needed to bother. The two men were a study of opposites, one radiated pride and discipline, his brutish features set into a expressionless mask and his black hair done up in a short topknot (he was even wearing a formal kimono that looked like something straight out of a samurai drama) while the other was a nervous looking mouse of a man, his shaggy brown hair hanging loosely over clammy skin and his posture screaming insecurity and fear.

The strict looking man spoke up first, his back ramrod straight and his eyes staring straight ahead as if he were some officer in a legitimate military rather than the criminal thug he was, "My name is Oda Nobutan, I am the head enforcer of the Black Skulls and the one responsible for organizing the rank and file into a competent fighting force." He was half shouting, acting as if he were giving a military report to a higher ranking officer. A pinched look came over his face for a moment before he repressed it and continued in a slightly lower voice, "I am also in charge or the less… open elimination of enemies whenever Miss Yessika cannot do so for whatever reason." So he's the less subtle assassin for when Yessika, who is apparently also an assassin, is unable to induce suicide.

I gestured for him to go on, noting the hint of distaste in his voice as he spoke of the less "honourable" side of his job; he was a shoe in for Khorne if he ever actually gets into this whole cult thing. I glanced at the others sitting around me as I took another sip from my glass, noting well hidden looks of amused disdain on their faces while I felt the worms within squirm down my throat as I swallowed the chunky sludge. "And your Quirk?"

He nodded sharply, "My Quirk is called "Barrage", it allows me to form anything I touch into cannons and fire the remaining material as ammunition." I raised an eyebrow and he seemingly took this as an indication he should demonstrate, placing one of his hands very deliberately onto the table. After a moment, the rotted wood began to pull into itself, moving like a viscous fluid as it twisted into the shape of several upward facing cannons. I grinned as the cannons fired, the table beneath them growing visibly smaller as it flowed like thick mud into the cannons to load them.

Of course, the fact he punched a bunch of holes in the ceiling was less than ideal, but the fact it did go straight through the sheet metal was still somewhat impressive.

I swirled my glass as I stared at him, contemplating what I'd seen. Why would a man like him join a gang like this? He's clearly big into the whole romanticized bushido bullshit and his Quirk, while highly destructive, is hardly one that would railroad you into villainy. Eventually my curiosity won out as I took another sip from my fetid cup, "What is a man like you doing in a gang like this, hmm?"

For a brief moment his jaw clenched and veins pulsed in his forehead, then a dark light slithered into his eyes and a cruel smile spread across his face. The voice that slithered from between his lips was not like the disciplined man I had been speaking to before, low and manic where before it had been harsh and crisp. "I make no secret of my origin or my… desires." He raised his hands into the air, gesticulating passionately as he nearly rose from his seat, " I am man born to war, to violence, to bloodshed! My heart beats with the pounding of the war drums, my soul aches for combat and death!" He slammed his fist into the table, sending off another volley of shots into the air, "I tried to hold down a normal job, tried sitting in an office and pushing fucking meaningless paperwork for some pencils necked bureaucrat in his gilded prison! But my blood sings for war, for conquest! When I heard those bastards slandering my ancestors, calling them monsters and criminals for seeking to bring honour to their names I…"

He sank back into his chair, his fervour cooling and a slightly abashed look coming over him as he recalled exactly what he was detailing. He coughed into his fist, "I… may have killed my boss… and coworkers… and destroyed a twenty story building in the process." He wouldn't meet my gaze even as my smile grew to inhuman proportions, "Which may or may not have fallen onto another building and caused a fire that might have burned down a not insignificant portion of Tokyo." His expression was carefully neutral, but by the faint blush on his cheeks and the way he stared straight ahead without looking at me, I could tell he was more than a touch embarrassed to admit his actions.

Of course, that look got all the stonier when I began laughing openly, great gurgling belly laughs filling the air as I leaned back in my seat and clapped. "Hahahahaha! Oh, by the Gods that was one hell of a story!" I slammed the rest of my wine down, feeling fuzzy chunks slide down my gullet before grabbing the bloodstained glass in front of Harek and taking a big gulp. "Ahhh, I'm sure Khorne will love you! Honour and violence, her two favorite things." I'd have to remember to keep an eye on him lest he turn into a mindless brute, though I also marked him down for infection with whatever Khorne themed disease I came up with later.

I waved vaguely at the nervous wreck sitting next to the wannabe warrior, "Alright, introduce yourself and then we can get down to actually running this gang."

He nodded jerkily, swallowing heavily before he mustered the courage to actually speak. How such a coward had become an officer in this gang I have no idea. He cleared his throat, "M-my name is Jin and my Quirk is "Ruckus"." His eyes darted around the table for a moment before he sighed, slouching backwards from his formerly hunched over position, "It uh allows me to… well, cause a ruckus." He gave a nervous chuckle, "It causes everything around me to uh violently shake at um random, tearing things apart and causing accidents and just, well, problems. It's um kinda hard to control."

I tapped my fingers on the table, feeling the wood grow squishier with each tap. "I presume you're in charge of… what, general distractions and perhaps indirect assassination then?" He nodded rapidly and I hummed, "You don't seem like you wanna be here, son."

He started, violently jerking in his chair as his eyes flew wide. "N-n-n-no! No! No, I-I-I do! I want to be here! I-I-it's just-just that…" He trailed off, before slumping backwards in his seat, his nervous expression fading into a nearly serene smile. Not a second later the table began to vibrate in place, rapidly escalating to violently bouncing around, cracking, and shaking itself apart at its rotted seams. I raised an eyebrow, glancing about as the very chairs my lieutenants sat in began to bounce and jump even under their weight. Fujun wasted no time before beginning to roar with laughter, though my gaze was drawn away as the glass in my hand began to hum.

I had barely begun raising my cup before it detonated in my hand, sending broken glass and rancid wine rocketing in all directions. One shard would have hit me in the neck if not for one of my Plaguebearers quickly shoving their arm in the way. A moment later the other glasses around the table hummed and exploded similarly, though the rest of my officers had already taken cover. The only one who didn't seem bothered even as the entire building began to shake was Jin himself, seemingly utterly at peace even as the grating beneath us rippled like a pond in the rain and the roof loudly bent and twisted in random directions.

My eyes narrowed, but a glance at my altar showed me it was completely fine. Even so, my personal guards had their weapons trained on him, only a mental command from myself keeping them from blowing his brains out. Normally, I'd have just shot him right away but I was curious to know exactly why he thought this was a good idea, especially considering I sensed no hostility from him and even the other officers seemed more annoyed than angry or afraid.

After a moment, the shaking began to calm down and Jin released a long sigh, a genuinely happy smile on his face. As he opened his bright blue eyes and met my decidedly unimpressed gaze, a sheepish look came over him. "My Quirk it… doesn't like to be repressed for too long. It feels like… like keeping my muscles constantly tensed all the time. I've never been able to hold down a real job, never been able to even get a proper home; who wants the weirdo who destroys everything around him in their office or even living next to them? This gang… this is the only place where I haven't felt like an outcast, where my powers are appreciated and not scorned, where I have purpose, and a place to live." For the first time since he spoke up his voice didn't shake, passion and zeal overflowing his tone without an ounce of nerves.

I found a smile spreading over my face in response, "Well now, that's more like it." I glanced down at the pile of mouldering sawdust that was our table, "Though, I do believe we're going to need a new table." I met his gaze, my smile shifting into a wry smirk, "Perhaps something more sturdy next time."