Tom

This article contains unmarked spoilers for Book 3.

System Message. Posting Book 8 spoilers will result in "acceleration" per our rules.

“Can we just go back to the normal descriptions,” I muttered. “Holy shit.” ^[1]

AI Description

Tom. Level 75.
Bereft Shaman of Meleagris Gallopavo Rex.
This is Deckmaster Number Eight of Ten.
Did you know that turkeys naturally have brown feathers, but the ones you see here in this farm are all white? It’s because after turkeys are slaughtered, plucked, and put up for sale, their pin feathers—like, little baby hairs—are still visible sometimes on the carcass. When these little feathers are brown, it makes the turkeys look less appetizing, like massive, sweaty nut sacks. So the farmers eventually started breeding them to be white, making the feathers less visible to the eye.
Funny, isn’t it? How things can be bred in a way that makes it so those holding the butcher knife are less likely to face their own revulsions.
There’s no point to this. Just an observation. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. Observing things. Noticing them. It’s all right there, if you look long enough.
Anyway, this is a magic-using turkey who once worshipped a god named Wakinyan, AKA Meleagris Gallopavo Rex or the Great Wild Turkey. That god was tossed into the Nothing. He recently escaped, only to be killed by a goat, which is an irony we don’t have time to explore.
The death of a god can be devastating to those who worship him.
Seriously, how does one deal with that? It’s a real mindfuck, learning everything you thought you knew was wrong. For a while there, Tom and his congregation were rudderless. Without purpose. Then one day they met up with a very interesting ogre necromancer witch who taught Tom and his congregation how to make do with what they had. She offered them protection in exchange for a small, daily sacrifice...
When life gives you giblets, you make gravy, so to speak. It’s as simple as that. ^[1]