It Puts the Stories on the Forum

[23rd]

Getting My Due

Chapter 3: The Greater Evil

 

"Arrogance is knowledge minus wisdom."

-Celso Cukierkorn

 

I'd been all over America since that miserable night. The boys think I'm crazy, but I'm just determined. I've wound up letting a few people get away with their debts, but that's fine. It'll be worth it once I'm holding Willy's lifeless body in my hand. Went to Nevada, tried to find out more about that book. Spent the whole time arguing with some librarian, can't remember her name. Called her Basketbutt. Went to New York just the other month, tried visiting some of the places where Willy used to put on his shows. I'm not exactly sure what I expected to find, there was nothing there either. Just lousy dead end after lousy dead end. Why didn't the gun fire? How did he do it?! What would it take to get the answers I was looking for?! Well, between you and me, apparently life-changing answers come in the mail. Remember that fella, maybe someday you can pass that off as proverbial wisdom to accentuate a tale you're telling some broad so you can get under her skirt, or whatever people tell tales for.

 

A manila envelope, absolutely stuffed with papers. No return address, no note, just a bunch of papers. Parchment.. who the hell used parchment anymore? There was all sorts of pictures, diagrams. Obelisks, staffs, amulets.. some weird black thing that looked like a mix between a cockroach and a.. well, something fuzzy. Damned if I know. There was even more crap on the backs of these things. Some had directions, others just had diatribes explaining what the picture was. Buried deep in the envelope there was a small slip of paper, fresh and white. Unlike the rest, this didn't look like it had come from some relic. Looked like it had come from a notebook picked up at the local dimestore, actually. Something was written on it in cut out newspaper clippings.

 

"THIS IS HOW HE DID IT."

 

Ugh.. even I have to admit that's creepy. From a distance you'd expect this kind of note to be a ransom letter, but here it is just.. explaining.. what I had been thinking. ..very creepy. Didn't mean it wasn't useful though. Better look through these things. "..stops mechanisms from activating until dispelled at your will.." Sounded like what I was looking for. Scrolling down I saw all sorts of disgusting things needed to make this trick work. Rabbit blood, copper, something called Nightmare Fuel.. Oh Willy, you've become one sick puppy haven't you? Well, two can play at this game.

 

-

 

It took me the better half of my day, but I finally figured out how to create this Nightmare Fuel stuff. Believe me, you don't want to know. I'm just glad I have it now, that's all I'm gonna say. So, mix that in with rabbit blood.. I'm sure horse blood is a good enough replacement. Copper.. well, copper is pricey, tin is cheap. Aaand the Nightmare Fuel. You can't tell from looking at it, but this stuff sure is wet. Kind of slimy, even. Oh well, into the pot. Time to bring it up to a boil.

 

Whoa.

 

Whoa, that's not right at all.

 

Should it be bubbling like that?

 

..I don't think it should. And I really don't think something should be coming out of it. "What the hell are you?!" Stringy black hair, wispy gray eyes, hands the size of watermelons. I was supposed to be cooking up something to stop guns from firing, not summon some biblical looking sh*t! "Get the hell away from me! Stop, damn it! Stop!"

 

-

 

It's tough collecting debts when you're trapped in a void of nothing. Technically it's not complete nothingness, but my senses aren't what they used to be, can't see well enough to tell you what I'm really looking at. I can feel and hear well enough, though. Yeah, I can feel the scales growing from my skin as my bones expand and distort. I can hear the warbling sound that comes out when I try to scream, too. It's like I'm made of fish. Honestly, I hate this. Willy better hope I never see him, or he'll pay for this. He'll pay dearly. 

Edited January 11, 2014 by 23rd

[HoneyHam]

Ooo, I see a Wickerbottom in there.

Basket=Wicker

Butt=Bottom

Also, good stories!

[23rd]

Well, gosh, people are supposed to connect the dots for themselves!

[23rd]

Weird Science

 

They both thought they were the only ones out there. They'd thought they were trapped in a world of isolation, not counting those pigs. Those simpletons didn't make good companions, though, not like another human being. The connection was instant. Even if they barely had anything in common, they had each other's company. In the wilderness of this twisted world, having each other's company was enough. They'd travel everywhere together, improve their camp together, eat together. She'd always light the fires at night, he'd work on ways to improve their living conditions at the Alchemy Machine; their life was as close as you could come to bliss when you're being periodically attacked by raving mad hounds. When she said she had an idea for getting rid of even them, he was right on board without hesitation.

 

"We could light those stupid things on fire! You ever see a dog on fire? You ever see anything on fire?! They won't want to mess with you after that!" In his old life he would've found her exuberance as she rambled on about fire with that single-minded conviction of hers annoying, but out here he just found it as enthralling as he did adorable. "What about the red ones? They're practically made of fire as is." The way her eyes lit up told him he'd gotten to the point before she needed to build up to it. She hated building up to things, so just getting right into it had to make her more than happy. "Well.. I know you love your science, so here's what I was thinking. We make a draining thingy that saps the fire from them in a way we can store. Then, when they're just normal pups again, WE LIGHT THEM BACK ON FIRE!" She flicked her lighter as she yelled out that last part, the tiny flame serving to accentuate her "master plan." He failed to suppress his smile, fingers stroking the underside of his gentleman's beard in contemplation of how he would make this so-called draining device.

 

"Well if it's going to protect the camp it'll need to recognize threats without our help.. Nightmare Fuel adds sentience to things, so we'll have to use that. If we're going to take away heat specifically, we'll need blue gems. If we use wood or grass to hold it together the heat would just burn them up, so we'd better get plenty of rock.." He was listing them off on his fingers without realizing it. The more he talked about it, the more likely a draining turret seemed like a real possibility. Then he got clonked in the side of his head. "Ow! Willow, what're you doing over th-" Another blue gem came flying for his face. She was grabbing the items from chests, tossing them back towards him without even looking, because of course she was. He didn't even know why he bothered scolding her for it anymore. Weeks of practice had tuned his catching skills, and soon he had all the pieces sectioned into separate piles in the grass. Looks like everything was here..

 

"So, Higglebury, we got everything we need?" She loved calling him that, his ears got so red every time he heard it. "Looks like it. If I work through the night I can have it finished in the morning, and don't call me Higglebury." Oh-ho-ho, he shouldn't have said that. Her grin stretched ear to ear, forefinger poking deep into his cheek as he tried to focus on what was in front of him. "Why can't I call you Higglebury, Higglebury?"

 

It was a long night.

 

-

 

By morning they were both incredibly excited to see how it would work. It looked fantastic, and while he was wearing his pride on his sleeve she was admiring the device like it was a fine work of art. It spun on an axis, the coil at the top looking this way and that for any hostile signs. "I want to see it work now!" He was about to tell her there was nothing to test it on when they heard something off in the distance.

 

bark

 

Was that what he thought it was? ..would it be a red one? She heard it too, if that excited squeal and mad dash to grab her Fire Staff was any indication. The device stopped idly scanning, choosing to focus in one spot in the distance.

 

bark bark

 

It still sounded far away, but.. yep, that was it. Out on the horizon, there was a red dot rushing towards them. It began to grow in size until it could be made out better, definitely one of the mutts. He didn't expect their invention to get a test-run so soon, not that the two of them weren't extremely excited to see how well it would work.

 

Thirty feet, that seemed to be the range. The hound stopped dead in its tracks when it saw the device, steadying its stance and growling from the back of its throat. Two clicks from the device and the air around its inventors was suddenly much warmer, and that hound was much less intimidating. The hound didn't seem to realize what had happened, when it heard the clicks the now black-haired beast ran forward, intending to rip the thing to shreds. Big mistake.

 

One overly-excited whisk of her staff and the beast was on fire. That hound's reaction was the most hilarious thing she'd ever seen, it had never experienced burning before! It ran around in circles stupidly, squealing and whining as though it was already dying, before turning onto its hind legs and sprinting away as fast as its tiny legs could carry it. Neither of them had ever seen a hound run away before, it was quite a sight.

 

"IT WORKED! IT WORKED! OH MY GOD WILSON, IT ACTUALLY WORKED!" He was going to say something along the lines of 'of course it did, I'm a genius after all' but he didn't get the chance before he felt her weight crash into him, both of them tumbling to the ground as she locked him in a hug with such an intensity that he couldn't struggle against it. Well, that was the reason he'd give later, anyway.

 

The world just got a bit more blissful.

Edited January 11, 2014 by 23rd

[23rd]

The End Of A Story

 

It had to be Them, didn't it? A darkness that even he couldn't comprehend, that overarching sense of dread. That's what They were, that's what they had always been. Yet.. it didn't feel sinister. Maxwell was very perplexed, but in the haste of escaping he didn't have the luxury of mulling it over. Just because it didn't exude a sinister aura didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. His weary bones groaned with each leap, forcing himself to keep the adrenaline was becoming painful. But he had to, he had to!

 

Somewhere in the excitement he managed to get the Codex out. The paper cut his cracking skin as he thumbed through the pages, doing his best to focus on summoning something, anything, that could help him get rid of his predator. Nothing worked, the book was lifeless. This book, this damned book that was supposed to protect him after all the grief it had given him in his former life, just didn't work. The magic inside was long dead. He couldn't deny his situation, but he could be plenty angry about it. It looked like he would have to fend for himself.

 

The exhaustion hit almost immediately once he stopped running, even his clothes felt heavy against his frame. In the back of his mind Maxwell knew he wouldn't make it, but he wasn't going to let himself go easy. The boxing lessons he'd been given in America were long behind him, but if he had to use them he would damn it! He was ready to burn out, to cause as much damage as he possible could! This surge of emotion went nowhere, however, as when he turned around there was nothing there. For but a moment Maxwell could have sworn he'd finally experienced the ebb of his own sanity for the first time in what must have been years, but he couldn't forget that the Codex had suddenly just stopped working, couldn't ignore the sound of chains rattling in the distance, couldn't ignore the growing dread..

 

"It's time, William." His eyes widened, breath catching in his throat. The voice, deeper than the darkest pits of his world, had came from directly behind him. He couldn't keep his bony hands from shaking as he turned around, getting the first full look at the thing that had been chasing him all this way. That dreadful aura, robes so black even Charlie would be frightened of the darkness they cast, the finality in the way it moved and spoke. For a moment, just a moment, the fear was excruciating. It faded, however. Fear often fades when you realize the futility of it. Having accepted his fate Maxwell rose to his feet, faced the psychopomp, and walked with it to the end.

 

---

 

Read this, got so into it that I had to write this story. Wanted to quote her at the beginning of the story but I figured the twist would be better.. plus if I type her last name out it gets censored, which is just ridiculous.

[HoneyHam]

Soo... What happened to Maxwell? He... died? What happened? What was chasing him? Was it Death?

I MUST KNOW ALL THE SECRETS!!! All of them!

Edited January 12, 2014 by TooMuchHoneyHam

[23rd]

I use the word psychopomp, I use the most common personification and I link to Emily D!ckinson's Death. Clearly it was a Werepig.

Edited January 12, 2014 by 23rd

[23rd]

I'm going to dedicate this to @Tesability, @ScienceMachine and @Blewcheese, I think they'll get a kick out of it.

 

Samozashchita Bez Oruzhiya

Part 1 of 2: Remembering Chernogolovka

 

(Author's note: All spoken words are in Russian, but for the sake of clarity written in English.)

 

Scratching at his thick mustache, Wolfgang tossed another heap of logs into the fire. He loved having Wes around, but at times he found himself wishing his comrade would talk. Maybe Wes had forgotten how, maybe he physically couldn't.. Wolfgang didn't know. The lack of any actual conversation in his life these days led Wolfgang to daydream often, and tonight was no exception. The burly strongman sat by the fire, reminiscing about his life back in Russia. The early 1900s.. a civil war was in the back of everyone's, and a close friend of his was trying to send him to America before the people up top even considered using violence.

 

-

 

January 1st, 1901

Chernogolovka, Moscow Oblast

 

"Come on Wolfgang, you pipsqueak! Aren't you eating your meat? You look like a geisha!" A young Wolfgang rolled his eyes, but he had to admit it was true. He wasn't exactly the most intimidating person in Chernogolovka, and his friend would never let him hear the end of it. Skinny arms, tiny mustache, baggy eyes.. he'd need to learn how to fight. "Now come on, let's practice. To the mat." 

 

A teenager stood in the corner of the small, chilly house. He had a scruffy beard, heavy jacket and that quality about him you couldn't quite place that gave you the impression that he wasn't in complete control of his faculties, while at the same time knowing just enough about what he was doing for it not to matter. The kid's name was Wojtek, and Wolfgang had known him for as long as he could remember. "Anatoly dreamed up this thing he calls 'Sambo', says it's going to become Russia's most well known martial art. Can't hurt to know how to use it." In a few seconds the two young Russians were standing on a cold mat in the middle of a tiny house, mercilessly beating the crap out of each other.

 

Neither of them were really good at Sambo.

 

They got better the more they practiced. Learned the stances, proper counters that didn't involve teeth and clubbing each other in the head until the other let go, even figured out some of the proper names. In truth, they didn't care about learning any proper fighting, they just needed to take their minds off the tension that always hung in the streets. The tension that would break in seventeen years, tearing their mighty homeland in half. They knew it would happen. Everyone knew it would happen.

 

"We've got to get you out of here Wolfgang. I don't know how long we've got, but I don't want to wait until it's too late." Wojtek had gotten much more fidgety in the last several months, even now he couldn't stop nervously thumbing the end of one of his sleeves. "You really want me to leave you here, just go to America? I mean, what the hell am I supposed to even do out there, work as some circus performer?" As vehemently opposed to the idea Wolfgang may have acted he knew it was the only option he had if he didn't want to get sucked up into a war, and they both knew he didn't. In a war, men turn into monsters. Wolfgang had always been afraid of monsters.

 

By the middle of the year the two friends had trained so vigorously that they could do Sambo in their sleep. It'd become so automated they couldn't use it to take their mind off the outside world anymore, and between the two of them they finally had enough cash put aside for a train ticket to America. It was time to get out of Chernogolovka, to escape the gaze of the stern government that looked down on the working class with disdain and hate. It would be better in America, Wolfgang could at least find a living there.

 

It was July 25th, and they stood at the train station. The steam of the massive trains warded off the cold, and atop the platform the two lifelong friends said their goodbyes. "Wojtek, you have to co-" Wolfgang was interrupted by the train he needed to get up abruptly pulling into the platform, the metal behemoth wheezing and churning as it sat at the platform, people piling onto it. "We could only get one ticket Wolfgang. I won't die, and I can take it, but you shouldn't have to. Now come on, that thing's going to pull away." Grabbing his suitcase, Wolfgang rushed towards the nearest door of the train, grabbing the handle on the inside of it to pull himself off the platform just before it closed. Behind him, he heard Wojtek call out one last thing.

 

"Be sure to show those Americans how we fight in Russia!"

 

-

 

Wolfgang woke with a start, feeling the flames of the roaring fire liking against his cheek. In his idleness he'd gone and fallen asleep, falling off his seat and into the ground. Damn, did his heard hurt.. a lot. Why did it hurt that much? Burly hands pushed into the dirt as he stirred himself awake, flexing his forearms and trying to rise. He.. couldn't. There was something on top of him, pinning him into the ground. Whatever it was, it was as big as him. Suddenly it moved, and he could feel the slimy thing getting off of his back. All his weapons were back in a chest, completely on the other side of the campsite. He was unarmed, unarmored and completely vulnerable. Wolfgang began to climb onto his feet, turning around and looking into the eyes of an angry merm.

Edited January 13, 2014 by 23rd

[Tesability]

Come on, Wolfgang, show that merm what your knuckles look like up-close and personal! And with the appearance of Wojtek, even if only in the memory, it makes me wonder what would happen next... :3

[Rosten]

I have to say 23rd, these stories are

some of the best fanfiction i've read in a long time!

[CoffeeBoo]

I have to say 23rd, these stories are

LOL.png

some of the best fanfiction i've read in a long time!

[23rd]

Samozashchita Bez Oruzhiya

Part 2 of 2: Showing Them How We Fight In Russia

 

(Disclaimer: I know nothing about Sambo other than it being a Russian martial art.)

 

Wolfgang sent his fist between the merm's eyes, but all that did was cut up his knuckles. He hurt his hand more than he did the beast! The strongman bit into his lower lip, fingers flexing and pressing into a tough fist as he tried to subdue the pain. Keeping out of the thing's way as it lunged and scratched for him was difficult in such close quarters, and despite being in the wide open plains he was feeling extremely constricted. The fact he hadn't even fully woken up despite being the imminent danger of dying hardly helped matters.

 

Wolfgang straightened up, squinted his eyes and shook the blood from his knuckles. For just a second he didn't see the half of the merm that was illuminated in the dying light of the fire, didn't see the way whatever it was secreting dripped onto the sod, didn't even see the misshapen figure that sat far off in the darkness, watching intently. Instead, he saw the officer that had been on the train with him, that eyed him suspiciously and scribbled secrets in his notebook in the corner. That officer had approached him, questioned him, threatened him, and all Wolfgang could think about was getting him back. At that moment, Wojtek's voice came into his head.

 

"Lock the knees Wolfgang! If they can't move, they'll go down easier than medovukha."

 

Wolfgang leaped forward, pushing his left leg behind the merm as he smashed the bulk of his forearm into the creature's chest. It let out a wet sound. Surprise.. shock? It was an advantage, that's all that mattered in the moment. The merm tried to get back, to get its room back, only to trip over Wolfgang's leg. A muscular arm caught its shoulder before it could hit the ground, holding it up just long enough for Wolfgang to jam his elbow into the fish monster's solar plexus.

 

"Awesome, man, awesome! Now control the arms, before it strikes back! You're dominating this slippery bastard!"

 

It was as if the merm could hear the voice too, suddenly aware of its own arms. They flailed, went straight for Wolfgang's face; it was looking for something to claw or rip in its desperation. Claws swiped uselessly at the air as Wolfgang pulled away, bringing both palms down against its left side and flipping it onto its stomach. The merm hit the ground with a sickening squelch, the knee in its back and fingers locked around its wrists made sure it was struggling was totally and completely useless. Wolfgang was breathing heavy now. All those months of practice came rushing back, it all just felt so natural!

 

"You know what we do when someone tries to kill us, right Wolfgang?"

 

He did know. The bottoms of his palms pushed into the merm's wrists, the pressure growing and growing until the small bones Wolfgang was tormenting broke with a crunch. The merm was howling in pain, trying desperately to crawl away on its knees. It was no use, of course, if it wanted a chance at survival it should have never chosen Wolfgang as a target. Cut up, sweaty hands grabbed onto the merm's chin and forehead, and between the warbling screams Wolfgang took steady breaths. One.. two.. three..

 

CRACK

 

The body underneath him suddenly stopped struggling, and once he let go the head fell into the dirt with a dull thud. Wolfgang let out a relieved exhale, happy to have a moment to catch his breath. In all the excitement he hadn't even noticed the sun rising, or the hushed rustling from the camp's tent. Turning around, he saw Wes' groggy face peeking out from the tent's heavy flaps. It seemed the mime had been woken up from the scuffle outside, and had wanted to investigate. Between labored breaths Wolfgang smiled, messy mustache seeming to grow on his face as his lips turned upwards.

 

"Come little Wes.. you French like your frog legs, yes? Let us cook breakfast."

Edited January 14, 2014 by 23rd

[the truthseeker]

 

The End Of A Story

It had to be Them, didn't it? A darkness that even he couldn't comprehend, that overarching sense of dread. That's what They were, that's what they had always been. Yet.. it didn't feel sinister. Maxwell was very perplexed, but in the haste of escaping he didn't have the luxury of mulling it over. Just because it didn't exude a sinister aura didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. His weary bones groaned with each leap, forcing himself to keep the adrenaline was becoming painful. But he had to, he had to!

 

Somewhere in the excitement he managed to get the Codex out. The paper cut his cracking skin as he thumbed through the pages, doing his best to focus on summoning something, anything, that could help him get rid of his predator. Nothing worked, the book was lifeless. This book, this damned book that was supposed to protect him after all the grief it had given him in his former life, just didn't work. The magic inside was long dead. He couldn't deny his situation, but he could be plenty angry about it. It looked like he would have to fend for himself.

 

The exhaustion hit almost immediately once he stopped running, even his clothes felt heavy against his frame. In the back of his mind Maxwell knew he wouldn't make it, but he wasn't going to let himself go easy. The boxing lessons he'd been given in America were long behind him, but if he had to use them he would damn it! He was ready to burn out, to cause as much damage as he possible could! This surge of emotion went nowhere, however, as when he turned around there was nothing there. For but a moment Maxwell could have sworn he'd finally experienced the ebb of his own sanity for the first time in what must have been years, but he couldn't forget that the Codex had suddenly just stopped working, couldn't ignore the sound of chains rattling in the distance, couldn't ignore the growing dread..

 

"It's time, William." His eyes widened, breath catching in his throat. The voice, deeper than the darkest pits of his world, had came from directly behind him. He couldn't keep his bony hands from shaking as he turned around, getting the first full look at the thing that had been chasing him all this way. That dreadful aura, robes so black even Charlie would be frightened of the darkness they cast, the finality in the way it moved and spoke. For a moment, just a moment, the fear was excruciating. It faded, however. Fear often fades when you realize the futility of it. Having accepted his fate Maxwell rose to his feet, faced the psychopomp, and walked with it to the end.

 

---

 

Read this, got so into it that I had to write this story. Wanted to quote her at the beginning of the story but I figured the twist would be better.. plus if I type her last name out it gets censored, which is just ridiculous.

 

Edited January 15, 2014 by the truthseeker

[23rd]

Decided to try something completely original. If you guys like this, say something, because I have a whole twisted adventure swimming in my head for Woren to go through.

 

Vox Populi

Prologue: Goodbye, Sacramento

 

The shouting was beginning to give him a headache. George Woren loved California, he especially loved Sacramento, but sometimes things out here got out of control. Granted, he should have seen it coming. He wanted to be mayor, and claimed he could push Sacramento so far forward with his shrewd scientific funding that the state capital would become the scientific center of America. A bit of a bold statement, but politics required you to embellish your words for the sake of your campaign. Now here he was, standing on a platform in front of the hundreds of people that had shown up to see him speak, and they were all demanding he throw the lever.

 

His brother, an established scientist in his own right who went by Carl, had found the door in a dilapidated old structure on the outskirts of London. "George, this thing is incredible. If you were to fund the restoration and research of this machine, I would be discovering the sorts of technologies that we only dream about! There are all sorts of things in this old machine that suggest advanced theoretical physical properties. We could discover the secrets to teleportation, matter manipulation, resurrection! You have to take this to your campaign." Well, George had never been big on his brother's work, but he knew what would get the public riled and excited.

 

So there he stood, facing the population of Sacramento, unable to keep his hands from shaking just slightly as they reached for the rusty lever on the side of the door. Hundreds stared in rapt anticipation, hundreds more screamed out in a deafening, unanimous cry. "Do it! Do it!" Like a rabble of livestock they didn't care that it was currently garbage, impossible to operate. They wanted to see what it did, they wanted to see it in action!

 

With an audible grunt George Woren yanked the lever down, the sound of rust chipping off and gears spurring to life overpowering the people's screams of excitement. Screams of excitement that turned to screams of horror as the lights flickered and dimmed, overhead bulbs exploding into shards after moments of hesitation. The shadows blended in perfectly with the encroaching darkness, nobody could see as poor Mr. Woren was dragged into the opening maw of the wooden door on the stage. When the lights that were left finally came back to life and dully illuminated the stage the politician was nowhere to be found.

Edited January 17, 2014 by 23rd

[HoneyHam]

VOX POPULIIIIIIIIII

Bioshock Infinite

[the truthseeker]

Decided to try something completely original. If you guys like this, say something, because I have a whole twisted adventure swimming in my head for Woren to go through.

 

Vox Populi

 

The shouting was beginning to give him a headache. George Woren loved California, he especially loved Sacramento, but sometimes things out here got out of control. Granted, he should have seen it coming. He wanted to be mayor, and claimed he could push Sacramento so far forward with his shrewd scientific funding that the state capital would become the scientific center of America. A bit of a bold statement, but politics required you to embellish your words for the sake of your campaign. Now here he was, standing on a platform in front of the hundreds of people that had shown up to see him speak, and they were all demanding he throw the lever.

 

His brother, an established scientist in his own right who went by Carl, had found the door in a dilapidated old structure on the outskirts of London. "George, this thing is incredible. If you were to fund the restoration and research of this machine, I would be discovering the sorts of technologies that we only dream about! There are all sorts of things in this old machine that suggest advanced theoretical physical properties. We could discover the secrets to teleportation, matter manipulation, resurrection! You have to take this to your campaign." Well, George had never been big on his brother's work, but he knew what would get the public riled and excited.

 

So there he stood, facing the population of Sacramento, unable to keep his hands from shaking just slightly as they reached for the rusty lever on the side of the door. Hundreds stared in rapt anticipation, hundreds more screamed out in a deafening, unanimous cry. "Do it! Do it!" Like a rabble of livestock they didn't care that it was currently garbage, impossible to operate. They wanted to see what it did, they wanted to see it in action!

 

With an audible grunt George Woren yanked the lever down, the sound of rust chipping off and gears spurring to life overpowering the people's screams of excitement. Screams of excitement that turned to screams of horror as the lights flickered and dimmed, overhead bulbs exploding into shards after moments of hesitation. The shadows blended in perfectly with the encroaching darkness, nobody could see as poor Mr. Woren was dragged into the opening maw of the wooden door on the stage. When the lights that were left finally came back to life and dully illuminated the stage the politician was nowhere to be found.

MOAR! MOAR! 

 

Edit: Wait, does it count if his last name starts with W?  

Edited January 16, 2014 by the truthseeker

[23rd]

MOAR! MOAR! 

 

Edit: Wait, does it count if his last name starts with W?

You're not going to hear him get called George much after chapter 2.

Edited January 16, 2014 by 23rd

[the truthseeker]

You're not going to hear him get called George much after chapter 2.

Chapter 2?! YAY!

 

Wait, allow me to respond to the intellectual propensity of thought this elicited from me:

 

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 1: Rise of an empire

Chapter 2: Making the proper connections

 

 By the first night George found himself wishing he had something other than a suit, it grew uncomfortable fast. Wingtips didn't mix well with marsh, or dirt, or savanna.. and the realization that he wouldn't be eating any prepared meals again for a while wasn't exactly welcome. If these berries were poison, he'd be completely fine with it. Eight years of college, and this is what it got him. A bunch of citizens who couldn't pour piss out of a bucket with instructions on the bottom managed to get him trapped in some distant wilderness, it didn't take him five minutes to decide he was moving to New York if he ever got back.

 

His sweaty palms clasped at his face, his breathes calming from the violent angry gasps they had been to slower, calmer exhales. Getting flustered did him nothing, he had never accomplished anything in life without a cool head. He would find a place to sleep, maybe he could find a way to trap one of those rabbits so he wasn't just eating berries.. one day at a time. He walked over towards the trunk of a large tree at the end of a forest, sprawled out under the shade and began to plan out his short term goals. He would need shelter, a sustainable source of food, fresh water and something to keep the isolation from getting to hi-

 

What was that smell?

 

It smelled so tantalizing. Cooked carrots, some sort of meat.. and was that pomegranate? Oh, he loved pomegranate! George's frustration fizzled into thin air, and he found himself bounding through the forest as the desperate fantasy of a welcoming community and a hot meal raced through his mind. There! In the clearing! He saw houses, farms, even industrial machinery! That small hope in his gut grew exponentially, and he ran towards one of the several stone pots in the middle of the clearing. Inside a filling dinner was letting off steam, meats and vegetables and fruits in a rich and creamy broth.. a delight for the eyes. George reached in, greedily grabbing a handful as he felt the warm sauces oozing around his fingers. He would explain to the locals soon, he just needed to eat something. He was about to shove what he had grabbed into his maw when he heard footsteps behind him. He froze.

 

George turned slowly, mind already scrambling for things to say. He felt quite silly once he had turned around, though; the only living thing there was a pig. It was pretty huge, bigger than any pig he had seen, but still just a pig. George let out a relieved laugh, unhygienically dropping his fist full of food back in the pot he had taken it from. He shook his wrists once, as if to dry off his hands, and walked towards the swine to get a closer look at it.

 

Then it stood up.

 

He was taken aback, the anxiety he had felt only a moment ago coming back full swing with fear right behind it. The bi-pedal pig took a step towards him, its eyes widening at it glared at him. Was it curious, was it angry? George didn't know, but either way he felt his legs turning to jelly. This was unreal. This shouldn't be, this couldn't be. It kept getting closer, step by step. What did it want?! What the he-

 

"You! Human! What's your name?"

 

It spoke English.. he cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice and sound confident. If he just treated it like he treated the voters, he would be fine. His response sounded much smoother than he felt, maybe those four years in a political college were doing something after all. "George C. Woren, mayoral electorate of Sacramento, California." The pig's eyes seemed to light up, and a squeal escaped it. Excitement? Recognition? Both of those seemed like bizarre explanations, perhaps they were both wrong. "Wo-ren?" The way it it accentuated the syllables reminded George of a chant, and before he could respond he heard even more voices yelling out. More bi-pedal pigs were emerging from the dense forest around the village, shouting out in unison. "WOREN! WOREN! WOREN! WOREN!"

 

He guessed he was just Woren now.

Edited January 26, 2014 by 23rd

[the truthseeker]

Eight years of college, and this is what it got him. 

Was I the only one who thought this? (NSFW)

:

[23rd]

Was I the only one who thought this? (NSFW)

:

Sadly, I doubt many others have seen that movie, which is a damn tragedy in and of itself.

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 1: Rise of an empire

Chapter 3: God-King

 

It's amazing what a civilized man will realize he knows when left in the wild. The pigmen were friendly enough, if a little boorish, and took to Woren almost immediately. He taught them how to improve their crude farms, how to fish, even how to better protect those flimsy wooden houses from the elements. Their gratefulness was apparent in the respect and awe they gave him, but he never expected the reverence. When they said his name it no longer sounded like an excited chant, it was an excited chant. To them, he was a holy being worthy of worship. It seemed only natural that they began to construct a palace in his honor. Honestly, it made him a little uncomfortable, but he figured he couldn't exactly go anywhere else.

 

Marcus, the pig who had first greeted him, was showing him what would be his throne room that night. Marcus was different from the others, despite retaining the community's awkward, loud way of talking he showed a much deeper understanding of the world around him and appeared to be the only one who didn't think Woren was a god. Woren was extremely thankful to have Marcus around, and stood patiently at Marcus explained what Woren's situation in their community would be. "The other pigs love you, say you're a gift from the heavens. They want to build a place for you to live, with a throne. It will be built on the old king's place.. he's not around anymore." A hoof motioned towards a wide, wooden floor that stood near the edges of the village's grasslands. Four black stone pillars stood at the corners of the wooden flooring, four more peeking out from underneath the tough earth. Whoever the former king had been, he must have been huge. The middle of the wooden floorboards were sunk into the ground below, a noticeable slant extending towards the absolute center. Then Woren noticed something odd.

 

"What're those things inside the crevice, Marcus?" As Woren stepped onto the creaking boards he realized just how old they must be. It had been many decades since any of this had been touched, that was certain. The various things lying in the center looked to be just as old, dust thickly coating each one. Woren's fingers brushed against each one, tenderly wiping the dust away and hoping nothing would fall apart as he touched it. An old lighter, floral patterns on the rusted metal. A dully colored flower, old and separated from its stem but somehow alive, a small orange bolt that looked as if it had been a part of some great machine, an untitled book with a blank red cover and, strangest of all, what looked to be a huge wad of melted rubber that spanned every color of the rainbow. Woren had become so entranced by the bizarre artifacts that Marcus' response caught him off guard, despite him having asked. "Holy items. These were the cherished possessions of people who had come before you. Most were prophets, one was a demon."

 

Woren only responded with a grunt of recognition, going back to staring at the items piled on the old wooden surface. People just like him had been here.. His right hand reached over to the dirty sleeve of his suit, reaching underneath and feeling for his metal cufflink. One good rip was all it took for the platinum bit to come free. His thumb ran over the top of it, feeling the cursive W and the indent of the family crest around it. With a heavy sigh, Woren dropped his cufflink in with the rest of the holy items, cementing his position as God-King of the pigs.

Edited January 26, 2014 by 23rd

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 1: Rise of an empire

Chapter 4: Veni Vidi Vici

 

When Woren was first introduced alongside his guardians, he had no idea they wouldn't be strong enough to defend from all the horrors the world had to offer. They were intimidating warriors in their own right, clearly stronger and better trained than the civilians. Regardless, when the spiders invaded, Woren quickly discovered that even the ones specially trained to protect him were little more than a squabble of mindless fools.

 

The first one had come from the trees, and while he didn't show it Woren was absolutely horrified. Enormous versions of things seemed commonplace in this world. Behind the first, many others followed, not all the same pitch black of the first. No, some had unnatural splotches of a green the shade of thick bile, and they seemed even angrier. All around them they came from the trees, angry shouts and violent cries filling the dusk. The guardians did what they could, but the numbers were just too overwhelming. They were swallowed up in a sea of black and green rage, all the pigs were. Woren frantically searched for some way out, but there was none. Every direction was surrounded by forest, and even behind the dense foliage he could see more coming. There had to be something to save him, something to save the pigs.. wait, yes! Yes, that was it!

 

The cretinous things lunged and swiped at him, but he managed to avoid their vicious attacks as he ran towards his throne. A crude thing, the fresh wood and rope that made up its incomplete frame was a stark contrast to the rotting boards it sat atop. Woren stumbled towards it in a rush, pushing it out of the way to show the so-called holy items piled in the hollow area underneath. Inattentively, he grabbed the first of the items he could get his hand on. The red book. He lifted it into the air, presenting it to the heavens. The spiders nearest to him stopped, and slowly the sea of evil creatures began to take notice of him. For the longest several seconds imaginable there was silence, complete and other silence, the only sound to be heard being the sound the wind made as it passed through the loose left sleeve of Woren's suit jacket. Then they began to run, their fear evident in their shrieks. Only when all the spiders had retreated back into the forest did Woren let his arms fall, shoulders shaking. He had fended them off for now, but they would be back by tomorrow's dusk. Of course the pigs didn't understand that, they only knew that their God-King had saved them from certain death. The chant came forward with more enthusiasm and bravado than the pigs had even thought themselves capable of.

 

"WO-REN! WO-REN! WO-REN! WO-REN!"

 

-

 

He had to make sure the pigs could fight back. They all spent the entirety of the next day turning their supplies into weapons and armor. Each pig worked happily and tirelessly, but none worked harder than Woren. Spears made of flint, armor made of near impenetrable wood, shields made from the largest pieces of stone they had on hand. The insignificant squad of five unarmed guardians turned into a small army of thirty pigs with armaments that would make even a Treeguard hesitate. Woren, with nothing but the same suit he had come in with, lead them at the front of the pack. Squeals filled the air as hoofed feet stomped the ground, charging into the forest just outside their tiny village.

 

The nests were sickening. Huge things with giant lumps where the tiny monsters slept. Every time they struck one the things came pouring out, screaming and lunging. Tiny bodies bounced harmlessly off the stone shields that had surrounded them on every side, and while the spiders were still dazed and recovering the pigs charged forward and ripped them apart with their spears. It was a bloodbath, and before Woren knew it he had cleared every last nest from the forest. Disgusting purple meat, swollen pink glands and fine silk littered the ground all about them. The pigs happily gathered the meat, while Marcus strolled about with a backpack which he stored the silk and glands within. They had dominated the forests beyond their village, never again did they have to worry about the periodical invasions of death and plunder that had plagued them for as long as they could remember.

 

Out in there were other houses, pigs who had never been a part of the village. They saw Woren's efficient army and the way they dispatched the spiders so effortlessly and immediately pledged their allegiance to Woren's village. New citizens came into the grasslands at the center of the forest and brought new luxuries with them. Nitre they used for more advanced weaponry, reeds that were turned into papyrus so Woren could keep a journal, dragonfruit that the old citizens couldn't go that went into a variety of delicious dishes.. over the course of a week the village had become a scattered empire. The pigs all rushed their production of Woren's palace. The incomplete wooden throne turned into a comfortable stone masterpiece within a massive tent the size of a mansion, the inside draped in fine rugs with marble statues erected in his image on the outside. It was.. wonderful.

 

On the eighth night Marcus had come into the tent with news. "Woren my friend, \I had the people make you something to commemorate the domination and settling of the forests!" Before Woren had a chance to respond he was staring at robes that had been tailor made to fit him, made from the massive amounts of silk that Marcus had collected those nights ago. When he slipped it over his suit he felt a surprising amount of warmth, this silk was much thicker than the kind back in Sacramento. It was then that Woren realized how much better being the God-King of this village was than being the mayor of Sacramento could have ever been. He was unanimously loved, and nothing he ever did was met with scorn. At that moment the village wasn't just a herd of pigs, they were his beloved subjects, and Woren went from making the best of a bad situation to hatching a magnificent goal. The success of the forest filled his mind, and desire to give his subjects the world stirred within him.

 

---

 

I hope this chapter made my choice of a Latin title clear.

Edited January 26, 2014 by 23rd

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 2: Remnants of Evil

Chapter 5: Going Home

 

Woren was becoming more than a little curious where the marble had come from. During his occasional strolls throughout the empire he didn't see any sources it could come from. Oh, sure, there were quarries, and plenty of them, but none of them contained marble. It was only natural that he end up asking Marcus where the material for the statues had come from. "There is a special biome that we cannot explain. It would be best if you saw it for yourself."

 

And so it was that Woren, Marcus and five of their spearmen took off for the chess biome. It was truly a magnificent piece of work, the marble floors and pillars were beautiful in their own alien way. There very some very angry, very large robots around them. Each one was rooted to the ground by rope tied around their legs, the other ends fastened around stakes that punctured the marble ground. Assuming this was their handiwork, Woren had taught his subjects well.

 

"This is all very breathtaking, Marcus, but what's that thing in the center?" At first, he thought Marcus had simply ignored him. When he saw Marcus pulling various things from the backpack on his back Woren realized that Marcus wasn't just going to tell him, he was going to show him. The God-King was becoming giddy with anticipation.

 

Two wooden boxes were placed around the edges of the wooden circle in the middle, then a wide golden ring was placed in the center, cranks against the boxes to connect the ring, and finally.. was that a potato? Before Woren could finish that thought the machine churned to life, the metal object in the middle lifting into the air and hovering above the ring. It was a face, one giant metal face, glaring down at him.

 

"This machine is capable of teleportation. It could take you back home. I apologize for not showing you sooner, the citizens were worried you would abandon us." Woren was too awestruck by the device to be upset. He stepped forward, the warm air from the device causing his silk robes to idly wisp about his frame. Home.. he could go home. He could escape this world, see his family, his city.. Sacramento.

 

Suddenly Woren grabbed the stone shield of one of his spearmen, hefting it up and launching it towards the machine. The force of the impact sent a crack down the front of the shield as the pieces fell apart, the hovering metal face crashing into the marble and splitting into many tiny pieces. The hum of the machine died down, Woren's silk robes hanging loosely around his shoulders once again as the air became still. Marcus looked on in shock, and it took him a full minute before he could say anything. "Woren.. why?"

 

"I have a home. It's called Porcorum." He picked up the stone shield, running his fingers along the crack in the front. The shield had been damaged in such a way to resemble a flared snout. On that day the village had gotten a name and a symbol; on that day, They had taken notice.

Edited January 26, 2014 by 23rd

[23rd]

Vox Populi

Part 2: Remnants of Evil

Chapter 6: Lupine

 

"You know, if the geography of this world is anything like the one I came from, there should be a full moon tonight." It'd been a productive day for Porcorum. Woren had taught his inner circle how to play various card games, with emphasis on Texas Hold 'Em; meanwhile, Marcus had discovered how to turn a small part of their berry harvest into red wine after being regaled with stories of the things back in the old world. That night Woren and Marcus had been playing cards with the oldest and strongest of Woren's personal guard, a muscular pig named Romulus. The three had been laughing and having a good time, but when Woren brought up the full moon the throne room had fallen into a deep silence. "What?"

 

Romulus looked back down towards his cards, voice coming out gruff and blunt. "We black out during full moons, and all wake up outside. Not sure why. Very troubling for everyone." Marcus nodded solemnly, grabbing onto one of the stone cups and taking a slow gulp of wine. Woren couldn't help but feel a bit nervous after hearing this, opting instead to focus on their game. Aside from announcing their hands, the rest of the dusk passed by in silence.

 

-

 

Woren was slouched on his throne when the night hit. He could see the moon rising just beyond the flaps of his tent, and in the windows of his people's wooden houses he could see them stumbling about, hunched and clutching their heads. An itch unlike any other manifested in his forearms, followed by painful twangs in the pit of his stomach. Within seconds it intensified, and he was stumbling forth from his throne, falling forth to his knees. The hairs along his forearms began to grow out, a thick dirty blonde coat showing where his body wasn't covered by silk. He tried to cry out, but instead a roar escaped him. His legs propelled him forward, and he emerged from his tent.

 

It should have been hard to see, but the moonlight was amplified. The plains beyond his tent, even the spaces between the trees, were completely visible to him. All around him he could see the pigs emerging from their houses, covered in thick fur and snarling like the animals he used to think they were. They all took off running into the woods, disappearing from sight and leaving Woren behind. None of them were in control of their faculties, and yet.. he was. Now that the pain had subsided he didn't feel any different, aside from the incredible warmth his transformation had given him. This meant it was much easier for him to notice something moving between the trees as the others ran past, a strange black creature slinking through the woods, towards Porcorum.

 

It seemed to grow in size as it stepped into the open. A being made of shadows that couldn't decide what it wanted to be. Its form kept shifting into various things that looked just a little broken. A dapper gentlemen with a pronounced chin and no left eye. A Victorian-era man with hair like the Devil's horns, forearms horribly scarred. It continued to display visages like these until it finally took a form that looked exactly like Woren, robes and all. For the longest time it just stared, and when Woren finally attempted to vocalize it disappeared. The shadows came undone like ribbons, stripped away on the passing wind. He could only stare in confusion and horror at the spot where that.. that thing had been. He didn't snap out of it until the Werepigs came back through the trees, stumbling back from wherever they had all been. Each one found a spot in the open, collapsing tiredly into the grass as they curled up and slept.

 

When morning came Woren found that he retained everything from the previous night when the rest couldn't. He told Romulus all about the thing that had visited him in the night, demanding that the guards keep watch for anything matching his description. He thought for sure Romulus would call him insane, but the pigman just nodded his head and promised to keep watch during the night. Woren's first full moon had been a troubling experience, and it would only get worse before it got better.

Edited May 25, 2014 by 23rd