It Puts the Stories on the Forum

[HoneyHam]

Ooo, so Woren is like half-pig now. COOL!!

[23rd]

Ooo, so Woren is like half-pig now. COOL!!

I can see how you would think that, but no. He's still very much human.

Edited January 18, 2014 by 23rd

[the truthseeker]

Well now I'm hooked. But still not sure "Woren" now is. 

Edited January 18, 2014 by the truthseeker

[23rd]

But still not sure "Worten" now is. 

There's no T in his name for a very good reason.

[the truthseeker]

There's no T in his name for a very good reason.

Nitpicker...but you're the Author and have secret evil plants--I mean plans --involving that, editing....

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 2: Remnants of Evil

Chapter 7: Swine before pearls

 

As his empire grew, They visited more. For the first month it had simply been full moons, but now They came weekly. What Woren had thought was just the one turned into three, then five, then eight. They could all be extensions of the same thing, They could be separate entities in and of themselves. It hardly mattered. They never did more than watch, stare, observe.. until one night. Woren refused to let them get to him, They would learn to pay him proper respect.

 

The foreign pigs, those Porcorum found in the swamps and forests around his world, were brought in on that night. The week had been spent properly integrating them into Porcorum's infrastructure, which of course included armaments for every last pig Woren's subjects could find. Porcorum had always stretched far beyond their village, but now the bond was solidified. As the sun began to set behind the trees over a hundred pigs flooded the grasslands of Porcorum, each wearing the village's symbol proudly upon their shields.

 

"THEY ARRIVE." Romulus stood to Woren's left, leading the army that had been amassed. It was true, the shadows spilled out like waves of sludge from the overgrown trees. They rose from the black puddles that stained the ground. Their bodies were humanoid, but it was clear they were only putting in the minimal effort. One broke off from the pack, coming into clearer focus at the radius of the fire, stopping mere feet away Woren. It had no eyes or ears, just indentations in its excuse for a head. That didn't mean it couldn't see or hear him, he knew that. "Tell me why you're here."

 

It threw its head back, jaw opening far too wide. Its mouth must have taken up more than half of its head, its rounded molars the size of thumbs. Everyone expected to hear a wail, but instead there were only whispers. Everything it said was in an arcane language nobody could understand, but the images that filled Woren's mind did all the explaining it needed. On top of a dark throne sat the corpse of a man in a fine suit, the same man Woren had seen in the old marble statues. The left side of the strangers face had been decimate, as though a barbaric wolf had assaulted the man and ripped his eye from his skull. The corpse in the image twitched, hair brightening and face contorting. In grisly way Woren couldn't believe he was seeing the man on the throne became him, fit and healthy, controlling the world. It was showing him the real power he could have, if he just submitted to their will. It was meant to sow greed within him, but it only enraged him.

 

"Enough! Tell me what you are, or leave my kingdom!" The thing in front of him closed its mouth, head tilting on its lopsided shoulders. They had dealt with arrogance before, but that was only when the humans could not see them. They'd taken a physical form, appeared before Woren, promised him power, and he had the will to resist Them? Even the army behind him quaked in fear of Their mere presence.. Their representative opened his mouth to speak, a grin large enough to swallow a jackalope whole painting its features. "We are the gods of this world." Woren steadied his glare, and when he spoke in response his tone was absolute. "No."

 

"I AM THE GOD OF THIS WORLD!"

 

Woren thrust his right fist into the creature's chest, fingers sinking through the malleable goop that made up its being. Inside, he felt something solid. His arm shook, his snarls beastlike, and yanked it backwards. It stumbled back, feet sinking into the black puddle behind it. When it screamed, the world around them shook. The feeling of the quaking earth gave the impression of impending doom, but Woren's bravery and raw carnal rage in the face of the unknown only inspired his army. Hundreds of pigs, moments ago paralyzed with fear, were screaming out gleeful battle cries as they assaulted the shadows around them with the intensity of thrice their numbers. For the first time in Their existence They were being driven back, forced into a corner. As the shadows dispersed the radius of the torches' fires grew, the entire grassland becoming brightly lit. They had left, for now.. but They were afraid. They were afraid of Porcorum, and Their next move would be weaker because of it. Woren grinned.

[the truthseeker]

I can imagine 100 of those pigs all saying their fearsome battle cry as one,

 

"I KILL NOW!"

 

 

Well, not that fearsome perhaps  

 

Still a great story so far. 

[HoneyHam]

These stories inspire me to accumulate the biggest, most fearsome army of pigs ever. And treat every one of them as if they were my own child.

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 2: Remnants of Evil

Chapter 8: Calm before the storm

 

Things had gotten a lot more solemn around Porcorum, Marcus found himself more and more worried about Woren. The man stayed in his tent most days, muttering about those things that had come in the night. The first few nights after the event had been rough on morale, the citizens were realizing they had no way of actually eliminating the looming threat that lurked out in the dark. Oh sure, they could amass weapons and organize their numbers to take down any physical threat they'd found on the surface, but this was different. They may have taken physical forms, but They couldn't be killed by conventional weapons.

 

The entire situation and the effect it had on everyone around him was giving Marcus a severe headache. He had to go for a walk. As he strolled along the kingdom he reminisced on the days before Woren, when their village had just been a small group of vulnerable shacks that couldn't stand up to a strong gust of wind. Now, as he wandered far beyond the grasslands he once thought of as his entire world, he took solace in the safety he felt traveling along paved roads and always seeing his Suidaen brethren nearby. Organization and economic projects had been all it took to make the world their own, surely this new threat to their stability had to have an equally simple answer they weren't seeing.

 

He went to meditate in one of the larger savannas they controlled, finding his solace in the quiet grazing of the Beefalo while he cleared his head. Outside the influence of the relentless worry the pigs exuded images began to form in his head. A vast expanse of land, lit by moonlight. Brown, hairy figures rushing alongside him. Another hairy figure, blonde, standing alone in the middle of a field, confused and alone. Marcus' left hoof punched the ground underneath of him, his eyes shooting open.

 

-

 

"UNCERTAINTY!" The voice that entered his tent was unwavering and absolute in its statement. Woren didn't have to look up to know it was Marcus. "Everything they do is to keep the residents of this world in the dark, metaphorically speaking. Every full moon, pigs across our world black out. We wake up outside, uncertain and afraid. None of it ever made sense to me before, it was paralyzing. But then you came along Woren, and the fear disappeared. People weren't scared of the dark, not with a leader like you!" Woren had always thought Marcus was different from the others, but this seemed to be a long rant of pointless praise. He went back to staring at his feet, struggling to think of a way to defeat Them. "So they need to bring the uncertainty back. What better way to do that than confuse and disorient the man we all worship? That's why you're scared Woren, That's why you transformed." Woren's right eye twitched, his gaze shooting up towards Marcus'. The shock was plain on his face, and the clenching of his fingers only served to make his reaction easier to read. Marcus continued. "Control it Woren, make them see they can't break your resolve." Woren felt hot under the skin, ghostly shivers running through his body. He'd always thought Marcus was different from the others, but this.. he never expected his friend to come up with a revelation like this. He felt hoofed hands on his shoulders, Marcus leaning forward to meet his gaze.

 

"If you can do that, you'll break theirs."

Edited May 25, 2014 by 23rd

[the truthseeker]

Interesting, in your world the Nightmares after being physically beaten, don't die and become a puddle of nightmare fuel? 

[23rd]

I never considered the stuff to be nightmare fuel, but it doesn't make much sense for it to be anything else. But yes, I treat Them as a single conscious entity (most of the time) that can't be killed physically. I'm sure there's examples of similar things out there, but I'm drawing a blank at the moment.

[the truthseeker]

I never considered the stuff to be nightmare fuel, but it doesn't make much sense for it to be anything else. But yes, I treat Them as a single conscious entity (most of the time) that can't be killed physically. I'm sure there's examples of similar things out there, but I'm drawing a blank at the moment.

FAILED MENTAL RECALLING IS IRRELEVANT.

YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED AND ADD YOUR  BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. .

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 2: Remnants of Evil

Chapter 9: The storm

 

Another tree was uprooted from the ground in the strong gusts that came with each striking pain in Woren's head. It fell forward into the ground, an earth shattering boom following and increasing the intensity of his new headache. They were making an entrance, but it was all for show. He knew that, and he was going to make sure They knew that he knew. Their bark was intense, but their bite wouldn't be able to match his before the night was through.

 

The other pigs had all transformed under the moon, their base instinct to run off in search of something to hunt. Woren was alone in the middle of the village, claws clenched into fists as he braced himself against the mighty winds that entered the village. There it was, there was their avatar. Still without the eyes, or the ears, but now it took on a beastly form. It crouched on four hands; it had made sure they looked as much like hands as possible. Anything it could do to unsettle, to create unease. It was failing.

 

Woren glared at it, made sure to keep his eyes on it. The ferocity behind his gaze was apparent, it knew it would have to strike. He wasn't afraid of it, wasn't afraid of Them.. that made it uneasy. Ever since the magician had come many years They had learned how to manipulate and terrify mortal men, but They couldn't scare this one. The beast had to strike, it had to attack. The more that revelation became apparent, the more terrified the pathetic creature became. It growled, it shifted, it made shadows rise from the ground, but Woren never broke his gaze.

 

Finally, finally Their avatar leaped from the ground, stubby fingers of its hands elongating and sharpening into clawed talons. It grabbed onto Woren, digging its forelegs into the man's thick brown fur, piercing the soft skin underneath. It would kill him, it would rip him apart and leave his body for his subjects to find!

 

Well, it would have.

 

It thrashed violently when it felt itself being pulled from Woren, but struggling was for naught. It screamed and howled, its legs growing longer as it tried to gain a foothold on the ground. This only served to agitate its captor, and the thin black creature was thrown against the grass. It finally got a good look at its captor, one of the Werepigs. Brown, mottled hair and bestial features just like the others, but it wore a royal robe and sash. Their cretinous representative recognized it, it was the philosophical one, one of the only ones that came and went freely from Woren's tent. The pig.. Marcus.. had learned to control the transformation, to control the curse They had given him.

 

As Marcus held the dark being to the ground, Woren leaned over it. He ran his clawed fingers down the lizard-like underbelly of the thing, resting over where its black heart was beating rapidly. It was afraid, terrified, and both Woren and Marcus could feel it. A gruff smile appeared underneath unkempt blonde hair, and in a gruff voice Woren spoke. "I told you.. I'm the god of this world."

 

It only took a minute of ripping and tearing before the black creature stopped moving, laying dead. They had seen through its eyes, seen Woren's ferocity firsthand and his decimation of something that should have driven him mad. The corpse was burned in front of the entire village the next morning as a message to Them, and that message was clear. They never came to Porcorum again.

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 3: Icarus' Parable

Chapter 10: Incipio Hubris

 

When he had first said it, it was merely meant to intimidate Them. Once They retreated, ensuring his complete victory and domination over a malevolent eldritch being, he fully believed it. He was the god of this world, none other could match his glory. He oversaw the construction of monuments with a vivaciousness and glee that wasn't present before, and his work towards improving the kingdom's presence had improved by leaps and bounds. Regardless, not all was well in the capital village of Porcorum.

 

Back when Woren was just a congressman, years before he ran for mayor and wound up having his life changed by that damned door, his brother had made him memorize an old Arabian proverb. "Arrogance diminishes wisdom." It had kept Woren grounded throughout his career, helped him excel in his field and win the heart of the public countless times, but that part of his life was far behind him now.

 

It was a chilly winter's day when his subjects first noticed the arrogance. Off in a distant swamp, six pigs were constructing a statue of Woren standing over a dead merm, striking a victorious pose. It was majestic by the pigs' standards, but the more Woren glared at it the less dangerous the merm looked, the more ridiculous his pose looked.. he didn't like it. After all his accomplishments on this world, everything he had done, he deserved nothing less than perfection. He wound up deciding the pigs' were disrespecting him with their shoddy work.

 

They'd started a campfire in the untamed, dangerous land. The weather was freezing, and Woren was the only one with any insulated clothing. Grabbing a stone from the ground he turned it in his hands, forming a fist around the hard rock and squeezing it in his frustration. In the moments afterward he threw the stone into the roaring fire, logs splintering and flying in different directions as the bulk of the fire fizzled out. The cold hit the pigs almost immediately, they all stopped their work and scrambled towards the logs in some attempt to bring them back together and restore the fire before they froze to death. As the cold brought their bodies a stinging pain they wanted to ask why, but Woren was gone.

 

-

 

Ever since learning to control his curse Marcus' voice had softened, and everything about him seemed more at ease compared to the others. None of that was present at the moment, of course, as he screamed his frustrations at Woren, growing red in the face. "What the hell is wrong with you?! You left them to freeze to death, you're lucky they didn't all die! Porkins had to have one of his arms amputated because of frostbite!"

 

Woren simply brushed off Marcus' infuriation with a wave of his hand, slouching against his throne. "My subjects are strong enough to handle something as trivial as the cold. If they are not, then their fate is preordained." No matter how much he argued Marcus couldn't get anything more than a passive response out of Woren. The man believed himself infallible, above all others. It was so frustrating that the worrisome implications took a backseat as Marcus steamed and scowled. The pig stormed out of the tent, muttering and swearing under his breath.  

Edited January 25, 2014 by 23rd

[ARamblingSpider]

Do a story about Woodie, chicken nuggets, murder and Nicolas Cage.

[23rd]

Do a story about Woodie, chicken nuggets, murder and Nicolas Cage.

And here I was wondering what the hell I would do after I finish Vox Populi.

[the truthseeker]

And here I was wondering what the hell I would do after I finish Vox Populi.

So it's finished? it seems...incomplete. 

Edited January 24, 2014 by the truthseeker

[23rd]

So it's finished? it seems...incomplete. 

There's still at least two chapters left.

[the truthseeker]

There's still at least two chapters left.

Ah, if that last was not the final chapter, then disregard. Looking forward to one of your impressive endings (as usual.)  

[23rd]

I've had the ending planned out since I started this thing. You want a clue?

[HoneyHam]

I've had the ending planned out since I started this thing. You want a clue?

A bad-ass Wilson comes in riding a pissed off beefalo and kills everyone.

Boom. Best detective in the world.

[the truthseeker]

"Nuke the entire World from orbit. it's the only way to be sure"...whoops, wrong Monsters!

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 3: Icarus' Parable

Chapter 11: Impeachment

 

Romulus may not have been on the same level as Marcus, but he was hardly stupid. As the highest ranking of Woren's personal guards, he got his fair share of time with Woren. He got exposed to Woren's waning psyche and questionable actions more than any other pig in Porcorum, and he grew worried. Woren used to be benevolent, concerned only with furthering the comfort and happiness of his subjects. Now the village's resident God-King was concerned only with his own image, often disregarding the well-being of his own followers to forward his ego. Romulus had not seen when Woren banished Them from the kingdom, could They have done something to him? Was this just a natural degradation of the mind? Was there a third, unthinkable explanation? The elder guard didn't want to doubt his own god, but one day a worker named Porkins limped back into the village with stories about how Woren had left him and five others to die in the cold. Only he had made it back.. but he still lost an arm to frostbite.

 

Romulus knew what had to be done.

 

He was extremely careful about who he talked to. A lot of pigs still respected Woren, even more feared him. If Romulus told the wrong person about his plan to assassinate the God-King he shuddered to think what could happen to him. With Porkins' brothers Romulus set up a small force to overthrow Woren. They had a small camp deep in the woods northeast of Porcorum, by the cliffside. Romulus would tell the three brothers about how he would bring them into the tent, making up a story about how they were new prisoners accused of treason. They would the irony delightful, and for many days they practiced to assassinate Woren. Concealing weapons, knowing where the important tendons were, moving about quietly so they could escape, the three brothers learned to do all of this.

 

-

 

For the past month Marcus couldn't sleep. It was only natural that he take walks in the night, when They had conceded to Porcorum's rule that creature that hid in the dark went with Them; there was nothing to fear from the darkness anymore. One of the old humans before Woren, an old woman, had tried to teach them all how to improve their civilization once before. She'd given up quite quickly after a certain agricultural disaster, but Marcus had taken a special interest in her. Before she had left, she'd given Marcus most of her novels, and these days he would find a secluded spot in the woods and read them by the light of a torch. He was halfway through one such book when he stumbled across Romulus' camp.

 

The head of Woren's guard and three pigs Marcus didn't recognize, creating small knives and practicing on them with dummies made of logs. To say it was suspicious would be an understatement. "What's going on here?" Marcus glared at Romulus sternly, ignoring the twitchy nervousness of Porkins' brothers. As Romulus' initial surprise faded he adopted a look of fierce determination, meeting Marcus' glare with intensity. When he spoke, his tone relayed the finality of his decision. "We are going to kill Woren. He has become a threat to the stability of the empire." Romulus stood, towering over Marcus. "You will not stop us."

 

Marcus expected he would be outraged, or at least intimidated. Instead, he felt relief. In that moment he realized he wasn't alone in his concerns, that Porcorum wasn't entirely blind to the flaws of their ruler. Before he could stop himself, the words came forward. "..you'll need help."

Edited January 25, 2014 by 23rd

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 3: Icarus' Parable

Chapter 12: Woren

 

When Romulus first told Marcus about their plan, Marcus noticed a glaring problem that none of the other four seemed to even take into account. "Killing Woren may be hard, not impossible. What'll be impossible is keeping everyone from devolving into pure anarchy. We can't go back to the way we were before, not after how far we've come." This hit Romulus hard, and it was clear he hadn't thought of those repercussions by the expression on his face. Marcus always had been the thinker. They struggled to come up with ideas. Eventually they settled on finding a way to convince everyone that if Woren died, it was his way of transcending after leaving his subjects with the gift of self-sufficiency. It was decided that this at least paid the proper respect to the wise and benevolent ruler Woren used to be.

 

Romulus had, somehow, convinced Marcus to keep gunpowder on himself for Porkins' brothers to use if things started going bad and they needed to end a fight before it got serious. Marcus began to suspect Romulus didn't know Woren wasn't actually a god. Either way, here he was, tied down with flasks filled with gunpowder and standing outside Woren's tent with Romulus and the three brothers. The citizens around them cast them curious glances, but were too busy with whatever menial tasks they had busied themselves with to see what was about to happen. Carefully, Romulus began to open the front flap of the tent, when he heard Woren's faint whispers drifting out from behind. "Most were prophets.." Suddenly, the five pigs became away of the heavy smell of cut grass.

 

-

 

Woren had trusted Marcus and Romulus. One had been his closest adviser since he arrived in the village, and he trusted his life to the other. When they first stopped showing up for weekly card games, he had been sad. The second week, however, he had become suspicious. He'd gone off in search of them when the sun rose the next morning, and found the camp. There were papers, detailing ways to kill him. To kill him. He knew it was them, it had to be them. The book by the dead fire belonged to Marcus, and Romulus was the only one who knew his schedule as well as the outlines he found did. He never left his tent after finding those, drinking himself into a stupor. His hair grew long and ragged, unhealthy purple bags formed under his eyes. Even his psyche went to hell, and he was the man who hadn't flinched when They came to destroy him. His grasp on reality quickly diminished; his growing insanity didn't mesh well with an already established god complex. He decided that if he was going to die, Porcorum would die with him. He filled his tent with loose grass trimmings, spreading them evenly across his floor. He cut holes in the back of the tent, where it bordered the forest. And of course, the thing he would need to set it all off..

 

-

 

"..one was a demon." Romulus and Marcus found themselves face-to-face with a crazed Woren, a rusty lighter with a single floral pattern in his hand. The two of them became instantly aware of what was about to happen, and a cold sweat broke out. They didn't have time to stop him, his thumb was already pushing down against the spark wheel, and the smell of butane filled the space between them.

 

Click

[the truthseeker]