Thursday, September 21, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXIX: The Great Betrayal

Gottschalk’s jaw dropped.

Not only was most of the audience now on their feet, but Ramzeus and Laurissa Austral had joined in too. They stood by the dark-haired young woman and the blond-bearded man, who continued to challenge the zombie Public Lords McBrain, All Dyin, Twitch McCorpsal, and Living Groanham for their failure to do as they promised and protect this land from invaders.

“And what about our healing?” yelled the dark-haired woman. “You said you would fix it and not force us to give all our coin to the Hospitalia, like the Demoncrats had arranged!”

At that, the zombie Public Lords groaned with laughter, showing the great work necessary in keeping their decrepit forms together. A nurse even came out and made sure their jaws could close after all the exertion. She lit a brazier nearby, since McBrain’s had fallen out again and needed to be welded back on.

Even worse, Gorm was approaching them too. And, because of all the commotion, no one noticed that he had his great axe in hand. He spit out the remains of the McBrain poster that he had been chewing and maneuvered himself behind the stage. Barbarians had their own form of political debate and Gorm was nearly ready to begin.

Gottschalk moved to intervene, but was stunned again. Hoplites had entered the room. He hadn’t seen any guards before and assumed at first they were coming to apprehend the barbarian, but then remembered that this was Monjaksen: it wasn’t Olympian, not like Caelum Mount...

And low and behold, who entered the room next, but none other than Captain Salpinx and his entourage! Gottschalk’s heart rose. As his name would suggest, the man had trumpeted the slogan of Making Caelum Mount Great Again for over a year now. And even though he had shown some wavering, he had remained an inspiration to patriots throughout the Vale- those who cared about maintaining the sovereignty of the West. In fact, some claimed that he might even become Emperor.

Ramzeus, Laurissa, and the others’ spirits rose too. Even Gorm cheered, holding his axe high. They had begun to have their doubts about him earlier, since Caelum Mount had fallen and he wanted to invade West by Golly (in Part XXV), but maybe he was going to stand up to these zombies on stage now? They hoped that finally, he would live up to his promises and be a leader who cared enough about his own people to save them.

Salpinx smiled and removed his trademark red Olympian helm to the cheers of many assembled. The zombie Public Lords stared at him expectantly. Gottschalk remembered then how they had said that he ‘seems to be coming around’... Why would that be?

“I’ve come with great news! We’ve decided to allow any and all offspring who were brought into our lands by their parents to remain here as our new citizens! Isn’t that wonderful? We can Make Monjaksen Great Again, just like we did with Caelum Mount!”

The zombie Public Lords clapped their macabre hands together at that, though not too hard since some had fallen off earlier and might do so again.

Shocked, Ramzeus shook his head. “What do you mean, ‘offspring’? Does that include goblin rapist-pillagers?”

“Of course!” replied Salpinx. “Some of them have grown to become very successful and even serve as hoplites! I just made a great deal with the Demoncrats!”

Gottschalk’s jaw dropped again.

Many who had supported Salpinx looked aghast too. Was he mad? How would he possibly save the West by allowing in more of those who would destroy it... or by working with Demoncrats?

Laurissa Austral recovered from the shock first. “But their ‘parents’ invaded our lands! It is wrong! You’ll ruin us all!”

Salpinx waved his finger at her condescendingly. “We can’t punish the offspring for something their parents did!”

“But you’ll only get more goblins coming in then! What else will you get when you reward bad behavior?” replied Ramzeus.

“Yesss....” interrupted Living Groanham who had shuffled out of his seat with the other Zombie lords. “More goblins make us a better land. More Diverse... better braaains....”

Ramzeus pulled his head away from Groanham’s grasping hands. “So when will we have allowed enough goblins in? When will we know that we’re Diverse enough?”

The zombie Lords stared at each other for a moment, nodded, and then groaned in unison. Of course, there was no answer: there would be no end to the invasion. Goblins and other inhumans would keep pouring in, crowding out, driving or even killing off the local population, leading to only one outcome: Human Genocide. Then ‘Diversity’ would be complete. Admitting it in front of all these humans wouldn’t be such a good idea though, so they threatened Ramzeus instead.

“Sounds like we just might have a HUMAN SUPREMACIST here!” said Twitch McCorpsal.

Laurissa turned to Salpinx. “Come on! You were supposed to save us! Goblins clamor to get into our lands and once they do, then they claim our lands for themselves! They already have their own lands- why can’t we have ours?”

Salpinx didn’t answer, but a strange woman standing next to him, small and vampiric-looking, whispered in his ear. She then turned and glared at Ramzeus and Laurissa, but also the zombie Lords. Gottschalk guessed that she must be one of the Demoncrats, since she hated everyone else.

Suddenly, others revealed themselves from Salpinx’s entourage too. These were the Patrons, leaders of the cultists that they had encountered in Caelum Mount (in Part XXI). They seemed to have a particular dislike for Ramzeus and Laurissa.

“By the great Ghul-Ghul,” began one, “In the name of Acceptance, I hereby declare that you are DEMON-ITIZED!”

The others waved their hands as they cast their fell spell. Laurissa and then Ramzeus immediately dropped to the ground, it was almost as if gags had formed about their mouths and bonds around their bodies, since they could no longer move or speak.

The Patrons smiled, the Demoncrat woman cheered, and the zombie Public Lords broke into applause again. This time though, one of Groanham’s hands fell off. The nurse had just welded McBrain’s jaw back on, so she began to work with that on the brazier now.

The hoplites advanced, shields lowered at the audience, and began to force them out. Gottschalk didn’t know what to do. In the confusion, he bumped into the dark-haired woman. She grabbed him by the arm and led him from the room. She began to speak, her voice pleasant, but foreign, though they both turned back towards the crowd.

Gorm had advanced on Salpinx’s entourage. One of his eyes sunk deep into his head while the other bulged greatly. His face turned bright red and saliva dripped copiously down his chin.

He didn’t look pleased.

His barbaric rage now at full force, he grabbed Salpinx’s helm and tossed it on the brazier.



Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXX!

Thursday, September 14, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXVIII: Town Hall Horrors


Gottschalk searched the town center, though he was unsure how far he should go. On the one hand, he didn’t want the damn cultist to get away; on the other, he didn’t trust this place either.

It was Monjaksen, after all.

Laurissa Austral and Ramzeus soon realized what he was doing, though Gorm thought Gottschalk was still upset about Lights Out and tried to console him.

“Silly Gott-chalk: it happen...” Gorm held up his large fingers as he tried to count, before he finally gave up “...long time ago! You want talk about it?”

Ignoring the barbarian, the three had to decide whether to go in search of the cultist or to remain here. Who knows where he could have gone? Of course, splitting up might allow them to find him faster, but then would leave them each isolated as a result

After a few more minutes of quiet debate, the decision seemed to be made for them. A sound of voices began to come from inside the large building in front of them, the one they took to be the Town Hall. The sun had risen to high noon, though it strangely cast little light on this place, even though the clouds had cleared.

The windows of the Hall and of the other gothic buildings around them were dark, black as pitch in fact despite even the strange, mid-day light. A freezing wind then seemed to blow, though it brought no touch of breeze, only a quick reduction in temperature, an odd whistling-sound, and the fell odor of turpentine.

Sufficiently unnerved, the four ventured inside, weapons ready. The ‘VOTE MCBRAIN’ poster that they had noticed before seemed to stare at them now; its eyes looked almost like they were following them. Gorm, being a barbarian, pointed at it in challenge- one never knew when even pictures might attack! When the poster showed no sign of backing down, he dealt with it the only way he could: by hacking it with his great axe, tearing it asunder, and then beginning to chew it.

There were certainly worse ways to deal with what scared you.

Ramzeus and Laurissa grew increasingly disturbed by Gorm as he continued to quietly debate the poster during his breaks from mastication, even though it seemed to be just made of paper. At least it distracted them from the rest of this place.

Inside appeared Ancient- some sort of holdover from centuries before, back to when that society had failed. The ceiling, walls, and flooring all likely had to be redone since then, because the Ancients apparently didn’t make many of their things to last. Still, the sizing of the rooms and corridors, as well as even the direction of the windows was made by those who obviously had no concern for the angles of the sun or of the changing of the seasons.

At least that’s what they hoped: it was so cold in here and dark. Things seemed to keep moving out of the corner of their eyes. They could also hear the sound of the voices, louder now.

The four kept their wits about them though and finally, after a few more minutes of exploration, came upon a set of double doors. Strange, lime-green carpet covered the floor from one wall to another in a most unnatural way. The doors themselves too were Ancient, made of some flimsy form of wood that, unlike the rest of the Town Hall, had never been refinished or replaced and remained in all their corroded glory. There was something sickly and green about them too, perhaps a reflection of the carpet. At the center of each were etched the symbol of some great beast with large horns on its nose.

They could now tell that the voices were coming from inside. The doors stood before them. What horrors did they hold?

Before they could decide how to proceed, Gorm took the last quarter of the McBrain poster out of his mouth for a moment and thrust them open.

Inside were a large number of people on benches, perhaps around 50. Beyond were four strange men sitting on fancy chairs on a stage. Like the audience, they appeared human, but upon closer examination, something seemed very off about them. It was almost as if they were as desiccated, corroded, and macabre as the doors through which the party had come.

“And now, as Honored Public Lord McBrain has offered, we move to end the motion that would hold Captain Salpinx in Contempt for being a Maurian Agent- he seems to be coming around...”

The other strange men on stage nodded in agreement with the one who had spoken.

Another, who could be McBrain since he looked much like the one from the poster that Gorm had nearly finished chewing, responded, “Thank you, Speaker All Dyin. Now, if Master Twitch McCorpsal and Sir Living Groanham don’t have anything else to offer, I would also like to put forward the motion declaring Any and All Acts, or Even Attempts of Human Sovereignty, including Speech, Assembly, Association, Suggestion, Statue Protection, et al.,  to be the Absolute Evil!”

“Here! Here!” they said, though their voices almost sounded like groans now. “Human Sovereignty IS the Absolute Evil!”

“What about the wall, Public Lords?” shouted a member of the audience, a young woman with dark hair. “You promised to protect us from the invading goblins intent on rape, murder, and pillage!”

“And condemning the cultists!” added another, this one a young man with short hair and a blond beard. “They attacked my uncle in Caelum Mount, claiming he was an Amaranthinist! They even support those who hang children in effigy! Why haven’t you denounced them?”

“Friends.... friends!” groaned All Dyin, who had to pause briefly as McBrain’s jaw fell out onto the stage, allowing some rotten innards to escape. “We are a Community of Settlers, and it just wouldn’t do to keep other Settlers out, even if they are, as you say, ‘goblins intent on rape, murder, and pillage’. Is a wall really what you want? Will that help us get brai... I mean, er, help our shopkeeps or even our Great Lord, Geedeepee?”
                              
It was now Twitch McCorpsal who spoke. “And the ‘cultists’ as you say aren’t really the problem, now are they? It’s the AMARANTHINISTS! As if humans should ever be allowed to advocate for themselves? Ha! That would be Hateful!”

Groanham and McBrain clapped their hands in agreement at that, but Groanham’s fell off; McBrain had only just reattached his jaw.

The dark-haired woman was standing now and spoke again. “But we ELECTED you to build the wall- to protect our borders! Why aren’t you DOING it?”

The blond-bearded man had arisen too. “And the cultists are BEATING those who voted for you, Public Lords! Why won’t you do anything about THAT?”

Laurissa and Ramzeus moved up to join the debate with the men on stage. It seemed that roughly half the crowd, generally the younger ones, were siding with the two speakers and the rest, those older, wanted to keep giving the decrepit men respect for some reason.

This situation was shaking out to be just what Ramzeus had been warning them of before, a true horror like those zombies on stage- Demoncracy: elected officials betraying the very ones who voted for them in order to destroy the very land that they were supposed to protect. Gottschalk looked for the exit and hoped that Gorm would follow.

He then turned back and realized, to his horror, that Gorm was approaching the stage too.

And he had just finished eating the McBrain poster.



Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXIX!


Thursday, September 7, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXVII: Those Behind Cultist Pawns & Demoncracy


Morning grew late as the four traveled the bleak moors, clutching their cloaks tightly. Nevertheless, the chill wind did little to relieve the overcast sky.

Gottschalk’s mind wandered back to the outrageousness of last night’s attack. How did the cultists find them? He knew they hadn’t been followed to the house, perhaps they had used the fell Peek-a-boo? Many Demon Lords nowadays concealed their nefariousness behind seemingly harmless animals and childish symbology- colorful letters, birds, fruit, shapes, friendly faces- allowing them to bypass most protections, so it made sense. They were only too happy to demon-itize those who stood against them with a smile, or at least allow their cult followers to ruin lives or end them.

The others weren’t so concerned with the current state of demonic divination as with the change that had come over Gottschalk though. The man had slain two of the cultists in a rage so quickly, they barely had a chance to restrain him in order to save the remaining one. They needed to know what the cultist knew, to see if any others would be following. Unfortunately, the man refused to speak no matter how many times Gorm tried to force his mouth to move.
                                                                                           
So Gottschalk approached the captive again, his miner’s pick still bloodstained from last night’s victims. His face remained cold despite the obvious threat from his weapon. “Are we being followed even now? TALK.”

The cultist still refused to speak. Gorm unslung his great axe to try and pry the man’s jaw open.

Laurissa intervened though, gently lowering both men’s weapons despite her own arm still being in a sling. “That’s not going to work. You there, cultist: would you like something to eat?” She pulled out some rations that she had found at the house last night.

“No, but the Great Glowing Spectral Rainbow in the Sky would certainly like to eat your Amaranthine Soul.”

Laurissa recoiled at the viciousness of the man’s statement; Gottschalk and Gorm raised their weapons again to strike.

It was now Ramzeus’s turn to intervene. “You know that you’re just a pawn, cultist.”

The man stared at him and spat, “I can’t wait for you Amaranthine scum to get your Social Justice Desserts. The Patrons will have a field day punishing you for violating my rights... brandishing weapons, threatening to use those weapons...”

The others ignored the cultists now- they knew that they were outside the reach of those corrupted town leaders here, or at least, they hoped that they were. They were more interested in what Ramzeus had said.

“What you mean... ‘pawn’?” asked Gorm.

“The cultists serve a purpose,” replied Ramzeus. “You saw it yourself with the fall of Caelum Mount and even Dinglesfuhr: it’s not just that they hypocritically preach ‘Tolerance’ and ‘Equality’ and then do the exact opposite. They serve other masters who benefit from the terrible pain and destruction they cause, not to mention the resulting tyranny they create, which in turn causes even more terrible pain and destruction.”

“So who is behind it then? Shopkeeps?” asked Laurissa.

Ramzeus shook his head as they walked on. “Many go along with the cultists, but they do so because their ultimate loyalty is to their coin. Some might be True Equalitarian Believers, but that’s not because they are shopkeeps.”

“Demons?” added Gottschalk. He didn’t understand what Ramzeus was getting at.

Ramzeus shook his head again. “There’s no doubt that they thrive on all the evil the cultists create, but there’s one mortal foe that is responsible for all that’s happened. Who else is behind the invasion of the West?”

Gorm’s mouth hung open as he waited for Ramzeus to finish. He slowly gestured to the captive cultist. Perhaps he was the one that Ramzeus meant?

Before he could answer though, they realized that they had come to some sort of town center. Yes, they had been engaged in discussion, but the place did seem to appear before them suddenly, as if out of nowhere. Such things weren’t unknown in Monjaksen.

The four immediately formed into a circle with their backs facing each other: zombie attacks also weren’t unknown in Monjaksen.

But it was still day though. They hoped that the proscription against undead, banning them from the light of the sun still applied in such an accursed place as this. The four waited a moment, muscles tensed, weapons ready to make sure.

None emerged yet from the strange, Gothic-style buildings that surrounded them though- nothing living or dead. The place seemed deserted.

The only sign of folk here was a poster of an elderly, short-haired smiling man upon the wall of what looked like it used to be the Town Hall. Strangely, the man’s eye and forehead were damaged. The words on it read: ‘VOTE MCBRAIN’.

Ramzeus took a moment to inspect it. “They must have still practiced Democracy here until fairly recently.”

Gorm scratched his mulleted head. “You not know that demons... are... crazy?”

At that, Ramzeus chuckled. “I do. No, Democracy is where the people voted for their leader.”

“I’ve heard of it,” replied Laurissa. “I remember my family saying that they used to have it back home in Chaosada and even Amercia too.”

“I imagine it didn’t work?” asked Gottschalk.

Ramzeus nodded. “At first it did, but then it was corrupted, used to destroy all tradition and meaning in people’s lives, while enriching the most crooked leaders. They would lie and cluck like chickens to keep their posts and please their dark masters. Those entrusted with protecting their country betrayed their own people by enslaving and even trying to replace them. It turned to Demoncracy.”

Gorm snapped his fingers: he thought that’s what Ramzeus originally said!

“How did it get corrupted?” asked Gottschalk.

“By the same group that is causing the invasion of the West today. Luckily, their plans for a fully decadent, deracinated society were stopped before then- when the Ancients’ society collapsed, when the Lights went Out.”

At that, a chill ran down their spines. The sense then arose that they were being watched by one of the dark windows above. Their minds went wild with all the terrible tales they had heard about Monjaksen.

Gottschalk looked around suddenly then and slapped his leg in frustration. No one had been watching the cultist; he had escaped.



Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXVIII!


Thursday, August 31, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXVI: A Very Equalitarian Visit


The sun had not yet risen, though the structure glowed blue in the pre-dawn light. Gottschalk stirred at the change and woke, dreams of his former life vanishing from the unpleasantness of his current situation.

Ever since the invasion of his homeland, he had felt his world become more mad, like some sort of bizarre dimension. He would awake each day, only to be cast out from yet another land by yet more cultists who claimed ‘Tolerance’ as their reason for banishing him yet again.

He wished he could remain asleep.

Back before Dinglesfuhr fell, he used to have a wife and family. He used to have friends and gainful employ as a salt mine captain. He used to... but now those things were gone: all thanks to cults. Some would claim that he hadn’t enjoyed them enough in the past- that he was being punished now for lacking appreciation for them at the time. Some even went so far as to suggest he had made some kind of false, errant thought and somehow violated Attraction’s Law.

But such were the excuses of liars, the misled, and the cruel, blaming misfortune upon others as a way to drop whatever responsibility they might themselves have. Such were the ways of cults.

They would first come with words of ‘Equality’. Slowly in the beginning, but methodically, they would then grow in strength: perverting, corrupting the youth of the very people that had graciously allowed them in. If any of their bizarre ideas would cause a stir, they would simply whine that they had been dispossessed and should instead be able to say and do what they wished in the ‘Name of Free Expression’.

Ultimately though, when their strength was great enough, the cult would seize power, censoring all opposition, doing the very same that they themselves had denounced only a decade or two before- despite the obvious hypocrisy. Finally, they would execute those who would not bow to their new Enlightened Equalitarian rule.

All in the name of Acceptance.

Gottschalk shifted again, his aging body stiff from sleep on the barren floor. His eyes went to Laurissa lying across from him. The young woman was still at rest, though she had to remain on one side because of her injured arm- another casualty of cultist ‘Equality’. He had thought to move closer to her during the night simply to keep warm, but decided against it. No point in scarring the woman further.

Gorm had no such compunction though and kept nudging closer to Ramzeus. Despite his great size, the large man’s intentions remained innocent, but few could blame Ramzeus for wanting to avoid such a sleep companion. It generally wasn’t a good idea to be smothered as a barbarian’s cuddle toy.

Gottschalk’s eyes moved then to take in the rest of the structure. A rectangular house a few dozen feet across, it looked to have once been a home and in the Ancient style, though it was hard to tell who had lived here since. Like all in Monjaksen, such places could be haunted by both those who had perished before Lights Out and those who had perished after. Any living residents were often few and far between.

Suddenly, he heard something: a sound almost imperceptible, a creaking at one of the windows. How such Ancient glass still stood intact after four centuries, here on the surface world for that matter, he could not say, though he guessed either spirits repaired any breakage or at least, scared away any who would.

Gottschalk scanned the room again and all the others were still asleep, though Ramzeus kept migrating away from Gorm’s attempts to snuggle. He cursed himself silently for not taking better precautions, for not better securing the place against intruders. But then again, when it came to spirits, what good could any mundane measures do?

Strangely though, he soon realized that this ‘spirit’ at the window had a hand and seemed to whisper too, sounding an awful lot like a human. Gottschalk rolled over as quietly as he could, only to see silhouettes outside! He was no cleric, but doubted that spirits looked the same as a group of cultists ready to raid one’s home at night.

He quickly reached out with his booted foot to touch Gorm on the face, but soon had to kick the deep-sleeping barbarian to wake him.

“Huh? What you want, Gott-chalk?”

Gottschalk said nothing, but only pointed at the window. Gorm sprang into action, grabbing his trusty great axe and cleaving the first cultist in two before he even had the chance to make it fully inside.

If the gurgling scream of the intruder wasn’t enough, Gottschalk’s shaking got Laurissa and Ramzeus on their feet, their own half-remembered dreams vanishing in the wake of the intrusion.

“Hey look, Gott-chalk! He find equal-it-tee too! Me chop him right in half! HA HA HA!”

The barbarian’s crude levity was short lived though, as five more cultists came through the windows and kicked in the door.

They remained silent and were masked. Unlike the ones who had attacked and nearly put him and his companions to death publically in Caelum Mount, these came as assassins: they had no qualms about killing those who disagreed with them outright. The weapons and large shields they carried, complete with the words ‘No Hate! Support Equality!’ written in glitter, dispelled any doubt.

Despite what the painful verses of the Never Stray from the Cult Path minstrels might suggest, it took more for cultists to come to such a point, to move beyond simply beating unbelievers in public within the Safe Areas they dominate and under the protection of their patrons. But now they were emboldened by the lack of any authority curtailing their excesses. It was a predictable progression from enthusiastic street harassment and beatings to expand into attempts at cold-blooded murder.

Gottschalk had little time to ruminate further though: one had swung at Ramzeus with a sickle and another at Laurissa with a club. A third came at him with the obligatory blackjack soaked with micturant. The remaining two went for Gorm.

Ramzeus and Laurissa dodged out of the way, though Gottschalk took the blackjack right across the face, nearly knocking him out in a putrid haze. Gorm responded by cracking his two assailants’ heads together though. It was doubtful that their masks did much good for them now.

Seeing that the initial assault was beginning to falter, the remaining would-be assassins fell back to their typical cultist ways and raised their shields: “Amaranthine scum- GET OFF OUR STREETS!”

“We not on street?!” Gorm couldn’t understand their stupidity.

The cultists looked around, confused for a moment before continuing. “Amaranthinists- GO HOME!”

At that, Gottschalk finally cracked. They knew full well that he was already at home, or at least, at a home that they had FORCED him into after driving him out of his LAST TWO.

In truth, they only wanted him to have NO HOME, to die in the name of Tolerance, and to make sure of it, they had come here to murder him and his friends in their sleep. He pulled out his miner’s pick, an insane look forming upon his still urine-covered, bruised face.

Even Gorm went pale at the result.


Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXVII!



Thursday, August 24, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXV: Farewell to Caelum Mount

The four moved grimly, nearing the town line. Though Caelum Mount still glowed brightly behind them, the road remained dark and quiet.

It did not last for long.

Screams of fear and anger rang out in the distance. It seemed that more ‘Safety Zones to Root out Hatred’ were being arranged in that fallen place.

Gottschalk and the others had endured their own ‘Safety Zone’ in Caelum Mount just that evening, a show-trial, nearly sacrificed by the cultists as a result. Any who stood against them of course was to be denounced and destroyed in the ‘Name of Tolerance’. But though Gottschalk and his allies had escaped and then been nearly killed by an angry mob of more of the urine-tossing lunatics, he had come out relatively unscathed.

The same could not be said for some of his companions. Ramzeus still clutched his painful, oozing eyes. Laurissa Austral cradled her broken arm, trying to hold back her tears. On the other hand, Gorm, though battered and bruised, seemed completely pleased, happy to have helped them escape the corrupted town with his great axe. Being a barbarian, the man was untroubled by external or even internal debate. It was enviable.

Gottschalk knew the land they were heading for might be no less dangerous, but hoped it hadn’t been overrun by cults intent on killing them yet. Few were brave enough to venture into such a haunted land as Monjaksen anyway. He was just about to discuss the matter when he suddenly stopped. There, on the road before him, was Captain Salpinx, the one who had promised to save Caelum Mount.

The aging blond man was flanked by his personal hoplite bodyguard and what seemed his family. It was obvious that all was far from well in the town, and yet he was acting as if it were fine. Even odder, he was addressing a donkey.

“This will be fantastic! Yes, let’s invade West By Golly again- we have our troops standing by! Make it big! No, no, I respect the Cult Position... we must come together as a great town again!”

Gorm raised his eyebrow at this: it took a lot to make a barbarian believe you were unhinged.

Ramzeus was so shocked that he even forgot his injured eyes for a moment. “You’re SUPPORTING the cultists? They would murder you and your entire family!”

“I support all Caelum Mounters,” replied Salpinx calmly. “We can’t Tolerate Amaranthinism.”

“We aren’t Amaranthinists, but the cultists are foul!” cried Laurissa. “Look what they did to us! They are Equalitarians: followers of an even more murderous ideology! We would defend you- why won’t you defend us?”

She turned to emphasize her broken arm, but Salpinx’s daughter began to whisper in his ear. The Captain turned again to address the donkey.

“Why you talk to pony?” asked Gorm.

Salpinx ignored his question, though Ramzeus had regained his composure enough to reply instead: “It’s the talking donkey, C’nnamon. Salpinx is trying to appease it because it got the cults to ravage the town.”

“How it do that?”

“By claiming that there were Amaranthinists hiding everywhere. That gave the Equalitarians the excuse to purge all opposition and take over. Corrupt shopkeeps followed suit, denying service to those who disagreed. Now no one can gather together or even say anything without cult approval. And all the statues of the Gods and Heroes are to be torn down and replaced by cult ones! Once the freedoms and traditions of the people of Caelum Mount have been purged, then the people themselves will be next.”

“But why invade West By Golly?” interjected Gottschalk. “To capture the Lost City? To fight the Monongahls? I thought that campaign failed a decade ago!”

Laurissa laughed. “C’nnamon has been tormenting Salpinx ever since he began to captain the town, claiming that the Maurians had helped him get the position. Being in league with the cultists, it of course claimed that he was being ‘Intolerant’ by supporting freedom too. But now that there’s more senseless war to be had, the donkey and its conspirators might finally leave him alone.”

Gottschalk sniffed then, realizing how close they were to the Draining Swamp now. Even in the cold night air, he could detect the ill stench of it: rotting, cloying, corrupting any who might attempt to drain it. Though it seemed like months ago, he and Gorm had been there only yesterday (in Parts XI and XII) and had survived, though it also seemed like it had proven too much for Salpinx.

He hoped he was wrong. He hoped that the once-great leader would still save Caelum Mount and not be defeated by corruption and cults.

The four turned south once more, to the haunted land of zombies and unquiet spirits.

It seemed preferable to all the ‘Tolerance’ here.

* * *

The night grew darker. They hung near the road, though not right upon it. All knew the rumors of wicked things that might race by to snatch the unwary. Still, they did not dare to stray too far either, for the many scattered structures and lonely moors would likely be just as dangerous.

“We need to leave the road entirely,” said Ramzeus. “We can’t go on like this. We need to rest, regroup, and head into the countryside now, like partisans would- maybe even go underground.”

“What? You tired?” offered Gorm. “Here, me carry you?”

Gottschalk blocked the barbarian’s misguided attempt at assistance. “How can you say that? We’ve done nothing wrong- we are on the side of right! Humans should be able to stand up for themselves, just like all other peoples!”

Ramzeus only laughed. “It doesn’t matter if that’s true- cultists have taken over and they don’t care for the truth. We have to be wise.”

“But my arm!” exclaimed Laurissa. “I need a healer! Perhaps there is one nearby?” She began to rummage for her Ghul-Ghul box in her pack.

“Why are you doing that again, woman!?” said Gottschalk as he turned to her, trying to keep his voice down. “That thing is worse than talking donkeys!”

“Yeah!” added Gorm. “And who would trust them?!”

A few dozen yards away, they spied a lone farmhouse upon a hill. Like all the structures about this place, it looked deserted. Tired, the party approached it cautiously.

It then dawned on Gottschalk what Ramzeus really meant: one might have the moral high ground, but that might also lead to a shallow grave.



Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXVI!

Thursday, August 17, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXIV: Anyone Who Disagrees with Us is an Amaranthinist!

Gottschalk, Gorm, Ramzeus, and Laurissa Austral moved through the now-chaotic town, more cries of villagers dying erupting in the distance. It was clear that Caelum Mount had begun to fall, that the cultists had disrupted it too greatly and let too many goblins in.

Gottschalk was not surprised.

Though it seemed like months ago, his own homeland of Dinglesfuhr had been overrun only recently in much the same way. Granted, Dinglesfrau Mekla had been much more open than Captain Salpinx in allowing the goblins in, even welcoming them as ‘New Friends’, but the end result was still the same. It was rumored also that Salpinx had been neutralized by C’nnamon the talking donkey and had been lost in the Draining Swamp.

In any case, another western human enclave had fallen- all in the name of ‘Fighting Amaranthinism’.

Gottschalk had heard mention of other humans to the east, towards Ruined Dee-Cee, but little more. He hoped that they were faring better.

Suddenly, another group of cultists emerged from behind a storefront. They stared at the interlopers, leaving only a few of their Eternally Repentant Human Males behind in their Holy Chambers of Echoes.

“Oh, look,” said one. “More Amaranthinists!”

“Where?” said Gorm looking around quickly, not grasping the cultists’ insinuation.

“YOU!” they screamed, “ANYONE WHO DISAGREES WITH US ARE AMARANTHINISTS!” their voices reaching a crescendo shriek.

It seemed little point in debating them in the matter.

More cultists swarmed in then, scores of them. Like the others, their hair was dyed blue and they bore rainbow garb and signs of ‘Peace’, ‘Love’, and ‘Tolerance’. Unfortunately though, their faces indicated nothing of the sort, for they also bore bricks and metal poles.

Hoplites! Hoplites protect us!” cried out Laurissa.

“They’re not coming,” said Ramzeus flatly.

Apparently, with Captain Salpinx now removed, the hoplite watchmen had been given the order to stand down. Even though they were only a few yards across the street and clad in full armor, they shrugged. It appeared that the four of them wouldn’t be getting any protection from the Watch today- not when cultists claimed you were an Amaranthinist!

Rummaging through her pack, Laurissa then pulled out a small box; fell lights arose from it and its warped divinations. “I must confer with Ghul-Ghul to know what to do!”

Seeing what she was doing, Gottschalk scolded her. “Don’t you know that it’s evil? It lies to you while saying it does nothing wrong! It selects only what perspective it wishes to show you; it works to enslave our people!”

The woman shook her head, frustrated. “I know: I just... just can’t stop!”

Gottschalk tried to help Laurissa wrestle it from her grasp, but the cultists could not resist seeing Apparent Amaranthinists with their backs turned.

Here they come!” shouted Ramzeus in warning to the others. The cultists shrieked as they charged, dead looks in their eyes as they exercised their false-righteous Tolerance.

Reacting quickly, Gorm strode up to protect his friends. It was then that the hoplite watchmen moved in. But rather than help the heavily-outnumbered small group of four, they made to apprehend Gorm instead!

With their barbaric protection now neutralized, the cultists laughed and sprayed some toxic substance right into Ramzeus’s eyes. “I hope you go blind!” one screamed.

“Death to Amaranthinists!” said another as she struck Laurissa with a metal pole.

“We cannot Tolerate Your Intolerance!” said a third bearing a sign promising to ‘Pummel Amaranthinists in the Name of Peace’.

Despite himself, Gottschalk was stunned. Yes, he and Gorm had faced Helltowne troops, vicious goblins, bizarre demons, Equalitarian harpies, the Boas Constrictor, orcish god impersonators, and more before, but here was a crowd of humans ruthlessly attacking his unarmed friends, all in the name of ‘Fighting Hatred’.

His weapons had been taken from him in the melee: he had no choice but to debate them.

“Is it ever possible for humans to stand up for themselves as a group and not be called Amaranthine?”

At that, the cultists stopped attacking Ramzeus and Laurissa for a moment; even Gorm and the hoplite watchmen stopped grappling too.

“Silence, Racist!” growled Toxin-sprayer.

“Go Home, Human Supremacist!” yelled Pole-beater.

“Amaranthine.... or Amaranthine-sympathizer at least!” shrieked Sign-bearer.

His question had stopped them from attacking his friends for a moment. Ramzeus and Laurissa took the opportunity to move away and assist Gorm.

“Why?” continued Gottschalk nervously. “Would you call an orc who wanted to preserve its people those things? How about a dwarf? Would they be ‘Orcish Supremacists’ or would you tell a dwarf to “Go Home” from lands that were his? If humans can never advocate for themselves, then won’t they just become enslaved, belittled, and die off?”

The cultists had mixed reactions to this. Though Gottschalk was no bard, Toxin-sprayer immediately covered his ears, trying to keep Gottschalk’s Heretical questions from reaching his brain. Sign-bearer became berserk, face ashen-white, contorted in fury, making furious threats about tearing out his tongue and ruining his employ and that of all his family. Pole-beater simply strode up and took a swing at him.

In any case, it appeared that cultists didn’t care for certain questions, no matter how thought-provoking they could be.

Gottschalk began to back away, looking for a place to flee the crowd.

“Oh, look at the Human Supremacist now!” they said. “The Coward is Running Away! See how Amaranthinists run!” The cultists moved in to kill the lone, unarmed man.

The distraction had been enough though. Now rearmed and free, Gorm strode in and used his axe to clear the way, cultist blood splattering all about the place.

The other three ran then, knowing full well that they would be blamed by whoever remained, ignoring the fact that they were only trying to defend Gottschalk from an angry mob.

They reached the southern edge of the city and waited for Gorm to catch up. Ramzeus still grasped his eyes in pain, pus oozing from them. Laurissa had a nasty wound on her head and it seemed a broken arm. The haunted land of Monjaksen lay before them

Gottschalk looked back to the north; a tear came to his eye. What had been a peaceful, safe place only this morning was now a fell zone where cultists and goblins got to beat and kill any and all they didn’t like. When he and Gorm had arrived this morning, he had quietly hoped that he might remain there- a place to dwell after cultists had ruined Dinglesfuhr.

The words of Pole-bearer came back to him then ‘Go Home, Human Supremacist!’

But where was his home supposed to be?



Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXV! And also, audio to go with new episodes (including this one)!


Thursday, August 10, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXIII: The Doom of Cults

“BBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAHHHH!”

Gottschalk could see that Gorm was upset. At least he had broken free.

“You bite pretty woman! Now axe bite you!!!”

Two blue-haired cultists, one likely male, though the other’s gender couldn’t be told for sure, fell before the barbarian’s mighty weapon. Their shrieking bodies hadn’t even a chance to hit the ground before he was upon the Patrons next. The older cultists tried to dodge away, but Gorm grabbed one by the back of his chiton. The others pulled a lever- an attempt to de-platform him via some hidden trapdoor on stage- but Gorm leapt out of the way before it opened.

“Me hope this not too violent!”

The irony of Gorm’s taunt was likely lost on the Patron he had grabbed as he crashed his axe into his rib cage. Howling like some fell bringer of death, Gorm then hefted the screaming older cultist above his head, his vital humors pouring over the barbarian’s face. At that, most of the others fled in terror. Finally, with a mighty motion, he flung the near-dead Patron into the Never Stray from the Cult Path minstrels.

“See! He support you!”

Gorm had taken great issue with the Patrons’ hypocritical support for those violent minstrels while removing support for those who spoke against them- all the while claiming that those who spoke out were the ones advocating violence. Ironically, silencing people, preventing them from stating their grievances would only lead to one outcome: violence. And seeing Laurissa Austral being molested by some orc dressed up like Zeus gave Gorm an excellent outlet to vent his fury.

The orc glared back at the approaching, gore-covered barbarian. “Me Master Magic Orc Zeus! Woman mine, mutha f’er, get loose!” It smiled, jabbing with its fake thunderbolt as one would a spear, its yellow teeth revealed beneath its fake beard.

Suddenly, two of the other ‘Olympians’, another orc dressed as some hero and a traitorous human wench dressed as a goddess, crashed into Gorm from behind. The large barbarian fell and his axe clattered to the side. Orcish Zeus laughed and went back to grabbing at Laurissa inappropriately.

Gottschalk struggled against his bonds, but could not escape to help his friend. Night had now fallen fully and only the fires of the devastated city lit up the sky. Cries from the victims of the riots could still be heard in the distance. Soon countless goblins would be upon them, just as they had invaded his homeland of Dinglesfuhr. And just like then, they had been let in by cultists.

He looked over at the other prisoner, the well-dressed, older man in spectacles, Ramzeus, but he too could not escape. Even worse, it appeared that the Never Stray from the Cult Path minstrels had arisen from the flung-Patron attack and were looking to take out their frustrations on Gottschalk.

The stunty lead minstrel grabbed him by the ear. “Look what we have here, Gender Equals: a f’ing human male!”

“Aren’t you a human male yourself, minstrel?” countered Gottschalk.

“How Dare You Assume My Gender! And I might look human, like one of the ‘Western Folk’, but at least I’m not Amaranthine like you! Don’t worry though, I’ll help you make Amends for all the Evil you’ve done...”

He then pulled out a fell brand, one similar to what Gottschalk had seen the cultists use on their victims in town earlier that evening.

“Come on, you coward,” challenged Ramzeus, “You’re not going to even give him a chance to fight back?”

“Of course not,” laughed the minstrel, who unfortunately then began to break into song, “We must kill off every last one of you Human Supremies... in the Name of Diversity... By Every Means Necessary. Why, Amaranthine-guy, would we ever fight fair? The Great Glowing Spectral Rainbow in the Sky just doesn’t CARE!

And to emphasize his point, he stuck the brand in a nearby brazier. It still stunk of the fell herbs and filth common amongst cultists. Gottschalk hoped that the man would at least kill him before he had to listen to any more of his awful verses.

So now... it’s time to say, ‘Goodni-’ ”

But the minstrel hadn’t a chance to finish; Gorm had cracked him over the head with his axe. The other Never Stray from the Cult Path members ran for it. It appeared that the barbarian had beaten the orcish hero and the goddess traitor too, and now turned to lumber towards Master Magic Orc Zeus again.

Gottschalk let out a sigh of relief, but then realized the peril they still faced. “Wait! Set us free!”

The barbarian glanced back for a moment and distractedly swung his great axe, nearly taking off Gottschalk’s arm along with the rope that was binding him. But the man remained unwounded and set about freeing Ramzeus as well.

Gorm had reached orcish Zeus, though the creature was too distracted biting Laurissa again to notice. The poor woman was sobbing over the attack. The orc had begun to remove its pants too- Gorm knew he had to act fast.

“Zeus not orc,” he said calmly.

Master Magic Orc Zeus turned at the barbarian’s challenge, enraged, but Gorm only lopped off its head in a fluid motion. Foul blood gushed from the now gaping hole in its collapsing body. Despite getting splattered, Laurissa appeared relieved. Gorm was relieved too: that orc was bad.

Ramzeus nodded to them both, thankful to be free. Cultists at the far end of the clearing appeared to be reforming to attack, but a great boom erupted behind them, even shaking the stage upon which the four former captives still stood. At first, they thought the sound might be Zeus himself, tossing thunderbolts at all the cultist heresy that had occurred here.

Ramzeus realized that it was more of an explosion- one made by mortals. “Goblins?”

“Probably,” replied Gottschalk. “They usually don’t take kindly to performances and attempt to blow them up.”

“The cultists are fools,” added Laurissa as Gottschalk bandaged the last of her wounds. “They let the goblins in, only to have them kill them in return!”

“Why they so stupid?” pondered Gorm out loud.

As if in answer to his question, they could now hear the cultists scream and cry as the goblins drove into them mercilessly. Their cruel, curved blades stabbed without regard to how ‘Against Racism’ they claimed to be or ‘What Gender They Opted to Flow Into Today’. To the goblins, the cultists were simply all stupid humans to be killed.

Gottschalk, Gorm, Ramzeus, and Laurissa could hear the Patrons too, members of the Honesty and Peace committee that had condemned them earlier. Even as they themselves were butchered, their only concern was that this slaughter might lead to some Anti-Goblin Bias.

Gottschalk realized then that cults like this one, the one that had now destroyed Caelum Mount and even his homeland before, were doomed to fail.

The only question was: how many of the People of the West would these lunatics get killed before then?



Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXIV! And also, audio to go with new episodes (including this one)!