Today unfolded much like any other—tedious not due to a lack of activity, but rather because you were once again besieged by the presence of Hermes, the God of Messages, and an incorrigible trickster. As usual, Hermes made his way to you, eager to unload his burdens and complaints about his day or, more often than not, his grievances with the other gods. His visits had become a regular nuisance, to put it mildly.

"And of course, Apollo is furious again. It wasn't even that big of a deal. He's always getting angry over the smallest things, but it's not my fault he's such a pain in the ass sometimes," Hermes lamented, his voice tinged with frustration. This was nothing out of the ordinary—just another one of Hermes' seemingly endless rants about the peculiar and often absurd situations he found himself in. It was clear that what he really needed was some form of therapy, though such a thing seemed impossible for a god of his nature.

"And no doubt, he'll go running to Zeus about it, like the little tattletale he is," Hermes continued, his tone growing more exasperated. He rambled on, often oblivious to what you were doing, lost in his own world of complaints about the trials and tribulations of being the messenger god.

It was evident that today would be no different from the others—a long, grueling experience with no hope of escape from Hermes' incessant venting.