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)!


Thursday, August 3, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXII: The Bonds of Tolerance

The cultists hauled the two bound men on stage as the crowd howled. The blue-haired woman, the one who had spoken before, followed behind. She bowed before the imitation god standing there.

“Oh great Master Magic Orc Zeus, tell us what to do with these... Racists!” She kept her eyes pointed reverently to the ground even though the creature’s fake beard wasn’t even on straight.

Being an orc, it at first began to lower its pants, since the kneeling woman was not uncomely. Some of the other ‘Olympian Gods and Heroes’ standing on stage nearby nudged it though. It was obvious that wasn’t what this human was looking for at the moment.

Realizing it too, Master Magic Orc Zeus readjusted itself and looked past the kneeling woman to the two captives: Gottschalk and Gorm. Unlike the other humans here, they obviously weren’t cultists. It strode over to strike them, but then its attention quickly turned to two other captives being led on stage: a younger, blond woman and a well-dressed, older man in spectacles.

“Oh, Zeus...” said the blue-haired woman somewhat impatiently. She gestured back to Gottschalk and Gorm.

The orc grimaced and struck her viciously, knocking the woman clear off the stage. “Nobody tell Master Magic Orc Zeus what to do!” The faces of the other cultists below went pale: they had no idea how to respond to a creature they worshipped attacking one of their own.

Gorm made to intervene, struggling against his bonds, but Gottschalk only shook his head. “We must wait for a better opportunity,” he whispered.

The large barbarian heeded his friend’s advice for now; his attention was quickly drawn to the blond woman anyway. “She pretty!” he yelled. He leaned over and tried to smile at her, but more cultists came up then, taking care to give Master Magic Orc Zeus a wide berth.

They brought all four captives to the stage’s center and tied them to dark poles so that they couldn’t move and remained standing. Gottschalk guessed that he, Gorm, the blond woman, and the man in spectacles were to be sacrificed soon.

Never Stray from the Cult Path returned as well and he realized that his own execution could not come soon enough. Listening to that Gods-awful minstrel band was certainly a fate worse than death. The dwarvish singer that led them glared at Gottschalk malevolently, almost guessing his thoughts. It appeared that he had another terrible song in mind just for him.

Gottschalk took a moment to glance at the spectacled man positioned beside him. It appeared that he couldn’t stand the minstrels either.

The blue-haired woman stumbled back on stage next. Her face was badly bruised and it even appeared her arm was broken. Some of the older cultists from before, the Patrons, escorted her. She came before Master Magic Orc Zeus again, prostrated herself, and began to blubber.

“Oh Great One! I Hope I Didn’t Oppress You with my reminder! Whatever we can do...” She broke down in tears before she could finish.

Despite the fake beard, the orc couldn’t hide its confusion over such a pathetic display- even by a cultist!

“What Existence Achiever means to say is: how can we support you, Master Zeus?”

The orc looked at the Patron who had spoken for a moment and then grinned widely. He pointed at the blond woman tied up on the stage with the others. The older cultist calmly nodded and then placed his hand on Existence Achiever. The blue-haired woman looked up at him, seeming a bit relieved, and hobbled over to address the audience again.

“My Friends, we now have the Final Act for Today’s Celebration: the Ultimate in Tolerance!” She made to gesture at the captives with one hand, but had to use the other, since Master Magic Orc Zeus had broken that arm.

“We present to you- the Lying Arch villain, Ramzeus, the Cruel Impeder of Goblin Migration, Laurissa Austral, and two Other Racists... for sacrifice!”

Existence Achiever then pulled out a long scroll to read the list of charges against the captives. Ramzeus, the man in spectacles, was apparently some sort of town crier who had denounced the cultists’ evil ways and had been critical of their destruction of Caelum Mount. Laurissa Austral, the pretty blonde, was accused of helping rivermen to stem the tide of goblins pouring across the Shenbyrg from the east.

Apparently, the Patrons had been allowing others to help finance the efforts of these two for a little while, but then had it stopped, deeming them ‘Violent’. No matter that Master Magic Orc Zeus had just smashed a woman in her face- the Patrons would still allow support for obviously violent orcs and cultists, but not the people who peacefully challenged their wickedness.

She then came to the charges against Gorm and him: their defeat of J. Kary Rotter, He-woman, and the Boas Constrictor (in Part XIX), which she framed as an unprovoked attack.

Gottschalk made to debate her on that point, but Ramzeus interrupted him. “Debate is pointless. Cultists are our enemies, you know? They only wish our people dead.”

He had to admit that the man had a point, but what else could they do? He wasn’t sure if they would be killed before Never Stray from the Cult Path began another song.

Existence Achiever was still not done reading the list of charges- she was now onto the many ‘Miniscule Encroachments’ that the captives had somehow oppressed her and Master Magic Orc Zeus with. The latter had grown impatient though and was already standing before Laurissa Austral, leering at her and beginning to lower its pants.

Gottschalk looked over at Gorm and it appeared that the mighty barbarian had grown weary. He guessed it was from all the droning on of Existence Achiever, like some twisted cultist bedtime story. He knew he had to act fast; the minstrels were getting ready to play.

“Ho there, Gorm! Where’s that pretty blond woman?”

The barbarian shook himself from his near-swoon. “What? Gott-chalk?” He looked around and saw that the orc was nearly upon her, gyrating and dancing to the screams of the crowd.

Gorm struggled against his bonds. The ropes stretched, but did not break.

Gottschalk spoke again, louder this time, struggling to be heard above the rising din "She told me something, Gorm: you know what it is?”

“She don’t like ropes?”

“She told me she really likes you!”

Gorm beamed at that, but then saw the orc bite her on the shoulder. Laurissa shrieked in disgust and terror. She struggled against her bonds, but could not break free. Her eyes then met his silently, pleading for help.

Gorm’s face went bright red. The cultists, the Patrons, Never Stray from the Cult Path minstrels, and most especially, Master Magic Orc Zeus barely heard the sound of his bonds breaking as the enraged barbarian came at them.



Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXIII!

Thursday, July 27, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXI: Meet Your New Gods!

"You f’ing human male! I gonna kick you in the tail! Goodnight, Amaranthine-knight! Oh yeah! I scream for Peace! I rip you to piece! When I come in your house, you better hide like a mouse! You Oppress me with your speech? You will die with a SCREECH! Yeah!!!!”

A blue-haired woman walked up to the stage and nodded to the departing singer and his band. “Thank you, Never Stray from the Cult Path. Your Songs of Tolerance are always appreciated.”

She then turned to the audience: roughly two hundred cheering cultists who had just rioted and destroyed the streets of Caelum Mount, some captured hoplite watchmen and other ‘racist’ prisoners, various goblins molesting others on the periphery, and Gottschalk and Gorm.

Gottschalk hoped that the cultists would execute him soon at least: listening to that ‘Never Stray minstrel’ was the worse torture imaginable. The wafting, hallucinogenic herbs that many cultists smoked around him did not settle his mind, nor the fact that the vast majority of them were human.

Why did they hate their own people so much?

“Just a reminder to our Goblin Friends!” yelled the blue-haired woman on stage so that she could be heard. “Remember to Respect the Rights of Our Currently-Female-Gender-Identifying Comrades...” She frowned for a moment, realizing that the Goblin Friends were strangely not heeding her reminder.

Finally, she turned her attention back to the cultist crowd before her. “And now we give to you the True Gods and Heroes!”

Gottschalk knew that this land was Olympian, different than his Teutonic home. He wasn’t very familiar with their Gods and customs, but knew that they were similar to his own at least. In any case, he doubted that what the cultists would show would be anything close.

Orc males festooned with crowns, chitons, Olympian armor, and fake beards then strolled upon the stage. Gottschalk made to laugh, but then saw that beautiful women, human women accompanied them as goddesses. He realized then that this was no joke, but in fact a move at replacing the very religion of the people in this land!

It made sense in a warped sort of cult way: they were replacing the folk here, why not change the very image of their gods too? Perhaps the herbs upon the air had finally begun to make him hallucinate.

“Me Zeus!” roared the orc performer. “You bow before me be...be... cause... I say so!”

It then moved over to attempt to mate with one of the human ‘goddesses’. The crowd of cultists looked on and cheered.

Gorm would have none of this and laughed loudly. He had begun to heal and drew up his large barbarian body, standing taller than any of the male cultists. Even they looked effeminate too, though they were just as nasty.

“Sit down!” shouted one. “You Racist! Can’t you see we’re trying to breed out your race!”

Gorm laughed even louder, so much so that even ‘Me Zeus’ stopped its gyrations for a moment.

The cultist crowd focused again on the orc. “Come on! Take her!” they screamed. “Humans must be punished for all they took, all they stole from you!”

Gorm finally stopped laughing. “Zeus not orc. Zeus look human.”

“Racist!” shrieked the cultists around him. “How do you know what Zeus LOOKS LIKE?!?!”

“How you know?” countered Gorm.

Gottschalk could tell where this was going. He began to look around for a weapon or some means of escape.

Soon a different group of cultists, older and in more refined dress arrived. Unlike the more roughshod rabble around them, some even bore chitons, though none had an orcish complexion. Even riotous, hateful hypocrites needed funding and it appeared that these were the patrons of this group.

“Greetings,” said the older man who spoke for the rest. “We’re from the Honesty and Peace Committee and would ask you to remain silent during the performance.”

He then pulled out a gag and smiled as he tried to place it over Gorm’s mouth.

Gorm stared at the patrons, dumbfounded. Even for cultists, these people were bizarre. He then did what any right-minded barbarian would do: he smashed the patron on his head with his fist.

The older man’s eyes crossed for a moment and then he collapsed. The other cultists, who had been screaming the entire time, went silent and stared at the barbarian.

Gottschalk was out of options: there were too many cultists around for him to either find something to fight with or escape. He then tried debating one of them, knowing full well that cultists never debated fairly.

“Sir, you say that humans took things from orcs, but aren’t you doing just the same?”

The other, non-barbarian-beaten patrons looked at Gottschalk for a moment. They appeared mildly intrigued and weren’t ready to sick the other cultists on such Unbelievers just yet. Still, he had made an error in their eyes.

“Don’t you mean: ‘Sir or Madame or What-have-you?’”

Gottschalk winced at the patron’s obvious lunacy. “You’re taking the Gods of these people and replacing them, just like you would have the people replaced too!”

The patrons nodded and then let the other cultists grab the men. In typical cultist fashion, it appeared that they had ended the debate with violence.

Gorm batted a few away, but there were too many for even him. Gottschalk simply tried to cover himself to prevent more serious damage.

He knew it was no use: they would both be sacrificed soon.

And as they were being dragged to the stage to receive the merciless attention of the orcish ‘new gods’ for the thrill of the cultist crowd, he wondered if very, very soon- they would get to see what the real Zeus actually looked like.


Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXII!



Thursday, July 20, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XX: What One Stands For

“You Hate those who would Love Another Of the Same Gender?!?!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No,” replied Gottschalk, though he knew that the screaming cultist wouldn’t believe him no matter what he said. “Such things have been around since long before even Lights Out. I only hate when people are forced to accept such things as usual or even to teach such ways to children. Societies die when gayness becomes the norm.”

“And two women much fun to watch too!” piped in Gorm. The large man still lay on the ground from his grave injuries by the Boas Constrictor’s earlier attack, yet his spirits remained good.

“Well!” began the cultist again, ignoring the barbarian’s levity, “Well... you Hate Goblins then! How could you be so RACIST?!” He blew a crude horn in Gottschalk’s face to stifle any reply. Its obnoxious sound mingled with the cultist’s stench of hypocrisy.

“No,” replied Gottschalk again. “I only hate when they’re used to replace my people... and I’m not very fond of all their rapine and slaughter either!”

“But They Must Not Be Turned Away! They Need a Home!” whined the cultist, even as his fellows and some goblin rioters beat a nearby hoplite watchman on the ground.

Gottschalk moved to help, but the vicious crowd had already boxed him away. Cultists and goblins loved to prove their Courage by attacking only those that they greatly outnumbered. This was the case for most lower-order creatures.

More waves of cultists swarmed then, overwhelming the hoplites that Salpinx had sent to keep the peace. The cultists uttered foul oaths to their Multi-cult Demon Lords, swearing to destroy all human society, to bring goblins into all human lands, to usher in a new Golden Age of Peace and Harmony... where humans were no more!

Of course, nearly all of the cultists who said so were human.

The crowd, now even more frenzied, pushed further, beating and kicking Gottschalk and anyone else unfortunate enough to get in the way of their Noble Altruism.

Eventually, Gottschalk rose, bruised and bloody, coming face to face again with the cultist he had been debating a few minutes before. “They already have a home,” he said finally, “It’s called the Goblin Lands.”

At that, the cultist cursed and struck Gottschalk with a wine bottle he had been carrying. It appeared that the young man was now concluding the debate in typical cultist fashion. It was then that Gottschalk recognized him as the same one he had fought with earlier that morning (in Part XIV). He still had on his rainbow face paint and oath to not produce any children written upon his pants.

With a few more kicks to the chest, Gottschalk gasped, collapsed, and lay still. And though Gorm struggled to rise, he too could not. The barbarian only hoped that his smaller friend hadn’t perished, especially in such a way as this.

The cultists moved on then, cheering over their latest act of Standing up to Intolerance, some stopping to pose for quickly-drawn portraits as buildings burned and citizens screamed. Others dragged an aging man out of his house. His children cried in horror as the cultists beat him to death before their eyes and then branded some fell mark upon his forehead.

What was his crime? He had written something that they didn’t like and they killed him for it.

All in the name of Acceptance.


* * *

“Father- why does that strange beast keep following us?”

The sun hung low in the western winter sky. Salpinx glanced down at his young son walking beside him, the Baron. “That’s just a donkey.” He motioned for his hoplite guards to keep the beast away, but it only snorted and moved past them as if under some strange, protective enchantment.

Such things rarely boded well.

The donkey pointed its filthy snout at the young Baron first. “Diiiiiiiiidn’t you have a meeeeeting with Mauriatown?”

Even worse: it was C’nnamon, the talking donkey.

The young Baron looked alarmed, but Salpinx only glared at the beast. “We’ve been over this already, why are you bothering my family with your false tidings?”

“Because you coluuuuuuded with the Maurians to win the Captainship of Caelum Mount!”

“And how did I do that exactly?” Salpinx stared right into the donkey’s eyes.

“People you knew met with theeeeeem.”

“And?”

“Ummmmmm,” the donkey’s eyes went blank for a moment. “They helped you steeeeeeeeeeal the election!”

“How?”

“Ummmmmmm...... they helped people learn about your rival’s corruption.”

“So?”

“That helped you win!”

Salpinx laughed “Wasn’t it your job to report such news yourself? To let people learn about my rival’s corruption, including any I might have? Not very terrific, are you?”

C’nnamon had no reply.

Salpinx smiled, started to remove his shirt and motioned for his guards to escort his son a safe distance away.

C’nnamon looked concerned. “What are you doooooooooooing?”

Now with his shirt off, Salpinx began to clap his fists together. “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

“How daaaaaaare you threaten violence! Apologiiiiiiiiiiiiize!” it brayed.

“I won’t,” replied Salpinx. He lowered into a fighting stance and appeared ready to wrestle the donkey.

“Apologiiiiiiiiiiiize! Or else I will reveal to all cultists where you and your family liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive, and I won’t be reeeeeeeeeeeesponsible for what haaaaaaaaaaaaappens then!”

Salpinx lunged at C’nnamon, but the beast darted away.

One of his hoplites came forward then. “Captain?”

“Yes?” he replied, though he still kept his eyes on the treacherous donkey.

“Cultists are destroying the town.”


Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XXI!

Thursday, July 13, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XIX: Wrath of the Rainbow

The three Masters of Equalitarianism stood before them. Gottschalk and Gorm stared back defiantly as He-woman, J. Kary-Rotter, and the Boas Constrictor advanced.

“Hold ssssssssssssssssstill,” hissed the Constrictor. “Your craniums reflect Racist SSSSSSSSSSSScience... and they must be Socially Re-Constructed!”

“Humanus Supremacistus Idiotus, Dieus!” screamed Kary-Rotter, waving her hands about rapidly.

“And watch out for my flower power!” proclaimed He-woman with his strangely echoing voice. Though still wounded, he/she flexed, lewd rod now in hand, rainbow thong and nip covers shimmering even more unpleasantly.

Gottschalk turned to Gorm. He hoped that these bizarre individuals would at least kill them before he would have to listen to their blathering or look at their upsetting forms much longer. There were sounds just outside the classroom door too- who knew who would enter next?

But Gorm had regained his strength. He grinned and flexed one of his biceps for a moment. He-woman giggled and, with his/her guard down, Gorm hurled his great axe right into his/her head. The heavy weapon burst it apart like one would a rainbow brain matter-filled watermelon.

“His crane-ee-um reconstructed.”

Kary-Rotter shrieked at Gorm’s barbaric statement as the corpse of He-woman fell. She spoke faster now to finish casting. Strange, metallic fans began to surround her once again.

Taking his cue from Gorm, Gottschalk hurled his miner’s pick at one of them. It ricocheted into the witch, knocking her unconscious, her spell still unfinished due to the many ‘-us’s’ it required.

Gorm beamed at having two foes felled so quickly, but there was just one problem now: they had no weapons left to fight the Boas Constrictor.

“Let me NUUUUUUUUUUURTURE you!” it hissed.

Before Gorm could refuse, it leapt at him, biting with its dwarven head and grappling him with its larger snake one. Gottschalk struggled to get it off his friend, but the monster only batted him away with its tail.

Regaining his feet, Gottschalk rifled through his bag in a panic then. He needed to find something to fight with! Gorm was a big man, but he could hear the Constrictor already begin to crush his bones. The only thing he could find was one small flask of mead.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Standing in the threshold was the group of goblins that they had left behind at the Schoolhouse entrance (in Part XVII). Their grey hides still appeared out of place in their ill-fitting hoplite armor, but their arrival also still proved enough of a distraction.

The Constrictor stopped biting and crushing Gorm for a moment and smiled at them. But the goblins, unlike the human students in this place, had not been misled into believing its Cult nonsense and did not smile back.

Seeing that they now had their spears ready to strike, it spoke with a patronizing quality that only a dwarf head set upon a serpent’s body could achieve. “Ho there, friendssssssss, we don’t stab Professssssssorsssssss in Our Culture! You’ll need to Acccccccccccccccept that.”

The goblins then glanced over at Gottschalk, smiled, nodded, and seemed to lower their weapons.

“See, human? Even goblinsssssssssssssss understand! That’s Real Ssssssssssssssscience, because I sssssssssssssssay it is!” The Constrictor then turned and readied to finish Gorm off.

“You trust goblins?” countered Gottschalk.

“Of coursssssssssssssse I do! Race is just a Sssssssssssssocial Construct!!”

At that, Gottschalk threw the flask at the monster, causing it to shatter and its mead contents to splatter all over its fanged face.  With it now fully distracted, the goblins grinned wickedly and launched their attack.

“Still think so, eh Constructor?!”

And as they stabbed the foul, hissing thing to death, Gottschalk saw the monster’s rainbow ichor splatter forth upon the classroom walls. And like all rainbows, he realized that the twisted society that the cultists would force upon people could not last for long.


They were just more distortions of the light.

* * *

With the ‘Masters’ defeated, Gottschalk helped Gorm stumble out of the Schoolhouse. And as was expected, the goblins were no help, but at least they were smart enough to not stab the two men.

Things seemed to change though once they emerged.

In the streets, throngs of masked, blue-haired cultists swarmed, destroying shops, shrieking for Captain Salpinx’s head and an end to ‘Human Privilege’.

Gottschalk had seen this before. It was eerily similar to the cultists who had railed for the destruction of his homeland, of Dinglesfuhr, weeks ago. In fact, many looked exactly the same! Perhaps they had fled his fallen land to make this land fall too?

“We Hate Hatred! We Violate The Violaters! We Won’t Accept Those Who Don’t Accept!” The hypocrisy upon their tongues only augmented the unsettlingness of their voices.

Spotting Gottschalk and Gorm, they then pointed and yelled. “And we Hate Racists Most of All!  Humans, Go Home! Get ‘em!”

The goblins looked back and forth quickly and then ran, leaving the two men to the cultists’ fury. They knew that they would only attack Gottschalk and Gorm: cultists were only too happy to prove how Anti-Racist they were by only attacking humans.

Gottschalk quickly helped Gorm to the ground and rose to stand against the incoming throng. He was no warrior and his body shook at the sight of so many screaming for his death for all the wrong reasons.

He knew there was one thing for certain when fighting such foes though: they will cry out in pain as they struck you.

Even if they wore the colors of the rainbow when they did.


Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XX!

Thursday, July 6, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XVIII: Against the Masters of Equalitarianism!

Gorm heaved his mighty head around with barbaric determination, whipping the Boas Constrictor along with it. The monster’s oversized dwarf head began to stretch its serpent body further and further out with the increasing centrifugal force.

“Hold sssssssssssssssstill!” it hissed. “I sssssssssssssimply need to Reshape Your Cranium in order to grant you Intellectual Freedom!”

Gorm would have none of it though and only spun around faster. He knew what ‘Intellectual Freedom’ meant to an Equalitarian fiend like this.

Guessing his plan, Gottschalk ducked just before the Boas Constrictor flew through the air into the cultists on the other side of the classroom. It roared with a vehemence that made him shiver, despite the fact that he was not the current target of its wrath.

No sooner had it impacted with the cultists though, when two others burst in. One was the hulking but effeminate gymnasium tutor they had seen before. The other was the magic tutor who they had heard hating Salpinx so: the Great Witch, J. Kary-Rotter!

“By the Might of Gay-skill!” began the hulking one. He held up what looked to be a rod, though it was perverse in its design, and a strange rainbow light began to surround him.

“I... HAVE... NO... GENDER!!!” he finished, yelling and waving the lewd rod around, his voice echoing strangely upon the walls.

Most of his clothing unfortunately vanished then, leaving behind only a rainbow loincloth and small patches upon his nips.

Gorm turned to Gottschalk- perhaps this was another ‘Zie’?

Before they could react though, J. Kary-Rotter spoke next, gesticulating fervently. “Magicus Killus You-us, Amaranthine Scum-us!”

Gottschalk had hoped that her magic speech, that for which she had received so much fame, would have been more impressive, when suddenly, strange whirling objects began to surround him. He blocked one with his pick, only to be cut by another from behind. They seemed to scream in support of the witch as they spun.

Having had enough, Gorm roared. He hurled his great axe at He-woman and rushed forward, throwing desks and chairs at the Boas Constrictor and the cultists still on the floor.

The hulking person blocked the axe with his/her obscene weapon, saying only: “I’ll ram this battle-rod into you now, sweetheart!”

Gorm’s face went pale, ducked the attack, and smashed He-woman in the gut. He/she yelled out in pain and Gorm flung him/her back into the pile of desks, chairs, cultists, and the Boas Constrictor with a resulting CRASH.

He-woman’s enchanted rod lay on the floor, but Gorm hadn’t the stomach to pick it up. Instead, he grabbed his great axe again and raced to the pile. He knew he had to act fast: there were already sounds of others at the door!

Across the room, J. Kary-Rotter smiled cruelly as her blood fans closed in on Gottschalk, slicing into him with their sharp metal blades. Try as he might, he could not defeat them.

His mind raced. Finally, he had an idea.

“I would wager you’d like to do this to Captain Salpinx, eh?”

The witch cackled. “Oh yes, the power has really gone to his head! Why can’t he just be silent and noble in the face of all his False Statements?”

“Good point,” replied Gottschalk. “And why can’t you do that?”

He grinned at the witch’s distraction. He then made a feint against one of the fans, but ducked, and it flew past him into her. She screamed and the others followed, almost as if they were seeking blood from the one that had misled them for so long.

Gorm laid into He-woman, hacking through the person’s muscular but soft form. Strange, rainbow-colored blood flew everywhere as he/she shrieked in pain. It had the unpleasant scent of fish too and Gorm felt weak.

The Boas Constrictor arose finally then.

A few of the cultists arose with it, though from the look of the many bleeding and crushed forms still upon the floor, the others had borne the brunt of the monster’s wrath.

“It looks like you helped your minions find their Intellectual Freedom too- haven’t you, monster?” goaded Gottschalk.

“I am no monster: Race is only a SSSSSSSSSSSSocial Construct!” it hissed.

“Good then,” laughed Gottschalk. “We’re just like you, so we’ll be going now...”

“Oh, no you don’t!” yelled J. Kary-Rotter, arising from her many fan-wounds. “You will pay for what you’ve done, Salpinx-lover! Beg for forgiveness for your Human Privilege or we will Expose You!”

Gottschalk smiled grimly and turned as the Boas Constrictor slithered closer, venom dripping from its golden fangs.

It glared and hissed. “Race is only a SSSSSSSSSSSSocial Construct when we sssssssssssay it is!”



Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XIX!

Thursday, June 29, 2017

The Hacks of Gorm, Part XVII: On the Trail of the Boas Constrictor

A cloud passed over the late afternoon sun. Cold wind blew from the north, carrying with it the scent of snow. But though the blizzard raged on the horizon, the skies over the Schoolhouse here in Caelum Mount remained mostly clear for now.

It was almost engaging enough for Gottschalk to forget about the goblins that followed behind him.

“We like kill man-woman-virgin-type-thing! We chew all best parts!” the grey-faced inhuman smiled lasciviously as it spoke. “Give us other-more! OTHER-MORE VIRGINS IN NAME OF GREAT GOD TEZSHNAZ! Mzajshetydty TEZSHNAZ!”

Gorm raised his great axe, a hopeful look upon his face, but Gottschalk only shook his head. He would have loved to let the large barbarian hack the disgusting goblins to death, but he doubted that Salpinx and the other Caelumian leaders would look too fondly on such a summary execution. How could the humans here be so foolish as to let them in?

He sighed and turned his attention back to the Schoolhouse. Ordering the goblins to stand guard outside, he and Gorm entered. They had cultists to catch, not to mention some strange serpent creature that they had brought with them.

The place was quite impressive: tall, arched ceilings hung overhead. It had high quality portraits and sculptures too. The walls were made of exquisite marble and had fine, oaken doors- all looked very expensive. Three classrooms lay to either side, making six for them to search.

But though the place was exceedingly opulent in the local, Olympian style, something was off about it. For one, despite its outside appearance, this was no Schoolhouse for younger pupils, but actually seemed a University Hall for young men and women. And being in Caelum Mount, one would think it would be a place for magical education, but yet the signs here seemed more geared to Indoctrination, rather than uncovering the deeper Mysteries of Reality.

Gottschalk’s initial examination was cut short though when Gorm brazenly strode towards the first classroom.

“Wait!” he whispered loudly, but Gorm only threw open the door.

Gottschalk reached for his miner’s pick, unsure whether any cultists inside would be ready for attack, but his fears seemed unfounded for now. Within were a few students, though they paid no attention to the large, mulleted barbarian breathing heavily through his mouth.

Gottschalk came in quickly and tried to pull Gorm out. Only a few students then turned nonchalantly towards the two. One young woman stared mesmerized at a moderate sized box upon her lap- it danced with fell lights. Gottschalk knew it to be a Ghul-Ghul box: one of the many devices that cults used to distract their converts from the actual truths of the world around them.

The instructor, a middle-aged Caelumian woman continued her lecture despite the interruption, “....Amazon society does face a steep loss of their populace. The only remedy of course is to import more orc manservants to increase the numbers of Amazons again. Now class, get out your coloring scrolls to show what that would look like...”

All the students blindly nodded despite the obvious fact that such a ‘remedy’ would certainly lead to the Amazons being Amazons no more. In a few generations, they would be bred out of existence in order to prevent a ‘steep loss of their populace’.

Gottschalk wondered at how the people of this town would pay so much to have their students learn such vile, anti-human rhetoric. Gorm raised his axe expectantly again, but Gottschalk still shook his head.

The next classroom was more animated. The professor there yelled and railed against ‘Human Privilege’, holding some sort of voodoo doll.  Ironically, it was an orc male and the students mostly humans, though a number of the young women were paired with some younger orc males who bore an uncanny resemblance to the professor! Gottschalk nearly vomited. The books and plaques upon the walls suggested that students had once learned valuable lessons of life, diction, and science here, but it seemed no more.

The professor quickly pointed out the intruders. “Look! Human Supremacists! They trying to Oppress Us!”

The students screamed and ran to the professor, though the other orc males rushed Gorm. The barbarian nearly cheered as he decapitated one and took another through the chest. They howled as they died. The human students’ faces went white.

Gottschalk made ready to chastise them, but they only clung to their professor tighter. He couldn’t believe such foolishness, but Gottschalk had heard some cultists believed that some orcs were ‘magical’. Knowing it wrong to slay them all, he deftly grabbed the voodoo doll and took it hostage. The students and aging orc remained behind, eyeing the two warily.

Gorm opened the third door next, though he did so less brazenly than before. Within was another human woman, but unlike the one from the first classroom they had seen, she appeared foreign, having an arrogant gaze despite her otherwise attractive mien.

“Salpinx couldn’t form a proper sentence together if he had the assistance of Aristophanes himself! Now I have ‘burned’ him, haven’t I?”

The students within, almost all young women, laughed and cheered. The classroom had the accoutrements of magical work, though it seemed they would rather poke fun at the town’s leader than learn such arcane arts.

Gorm turned to Gottschalk, a look of hope upon his face again, but he recognized the instructor. She was the Great J. Kary-Rotter, and she was quite the well-known witch.

Realizing just what a corrupt place this actually was, the duo moved faster now. The fourth door opened to a large gymnasium. Inside were many students led by a hulking man. Unlike Gorm though, he was very effeminate, had a blond bowl cut, and kept bowing before a rainbow banner upon the wall. He turned to look at them, but Gottschalk and Gorm fled before he could see.

Finally, the fifth door opened to a classroom that held the cultists. Gottschalk would have been relieved if not for the gruesome scene within. A victim lay on the floor there. It was hard to tell, but the corpse wore the remains of a professor’s robes.

“No more Human Privilege for you!” the cultists jeered as they kicked the bloodied form.

Gorm’s face went red and he flexed his mighty chest. Still they laughed, though their flimsy rainbow robes, pudgy frames, and short daggers were obviously no match for him. Then he realized what had made them so arrogant.

Arising from the professor’s carcass was a mustached dwarven head, set upon a large and spotted python’s body. It must have been the thing that Gottschalk had heard hissing before: a Boas Constrictor!

It sprang forward, fangs and serpent tongue showing golden and red as it struck at Gorm. The barbarian was quicker though and deflected its poison bite. Still, the monster wrapped its snake body around his neck, squeezing with abominable might.

“It... not... natural!” gasped Gorm.

“NUUUUUUUUUUURTURE,” it hissed. “Not NAAAAAAAAAAATURE!”

Gottschalk moved to help his friend, but the cultists still stood in the way. Sounds in the hall signaled too that the bizarre professors and misled students they had encountered earlier were likely approaching from the other classrooms now.

Even worse, it looked like the Boas Constrictor was crushing Gorm’s head, attempting to reform his skull shape to meet some fell purpose.

What sort of monster would try to do that?

Next week: The Hacks of Gorm, Part XVIII!