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!