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[!] Found on shelves throughout Almaris: One might find this odd tale of a place dubbed "Boar Island". ((Complete writing credits to @Goon. Enjoy)) THE TALE OF BOAR ISLAND There once was a man, from the Bay of Crows, who had nothing to his name but his shame and his clothes. He had nothing to claim, save for those old tattered robes- a cloth that clung desperately to stave from the snows. Where the river meets ice, a vagrant’s garbs could never suffice. They did nothing to shield the frigid air’s frosts, and if worn for too long, surely his life would be lost. So he ventured out East to escape such a chill, he built up a raft and sailed down a hill- to stumble upon a newfoundland, with plenty to eat just beyond shore’s sand. “This world has it all, and it is ripe for the take! I shall return to my peoples, and lead them across this lake!” So that’s what he did, returning to home, only he’d no plans to stay for too long. He told all of those, afflicted the same, “Come, come with me! To stay is a shame! I’ve found a new place for you and your kin- to go hungry and cold? No, never again!” And they followed behind, to find peace of mind- landing on land they all would call ‘mine.’ Homage was due, and they named him the king- his first of decrees had been "Slay everything!" CHOP! And a SLASH! The occasional gash- but by night’s fall, they had a feast that would last. Boar chops and ham, loins, belly and hand- the first night’s feast in the new world was grand! The next was the same- and those boar were the game- and they stopped not until the sun had’a lain. They filled up their bellies with swine guts and swine bellies- shaping their guts to feel as if jelly. But enough was enough, for a nearby old hag- and she rode her own vessel to be such a drag. “You’ve more than enough pork for you and your friends. And yet you still hunt. When will your hunt end?” “Can you blame an old man who has only had nothing? For wanting a taste from all of the somethings? And besides, you old hag, it is only just boar. If you look through my forests, there are plenty o’ more.” “Hear me now, old Lord, and let me be blunt — cease, and stop now, your meaningless hunt. Reduce your hauls to only what you need, else you’ll become the very thing you bleed.” “Away from me, hag. I’ve heard enough of your whining. Return where you came, so we resume our dining.” “So be it, you hog.” She spit out of spite- turning to fog, and gone out of sight. And their hunts did not cease, no, there were plenty o’ more. And at the end of each one, he reeked of the boar. “My Lord, Oh Great Baron, take not as insult- but perhaps you should bathe, you smell of swine bathed in salt.” “I had only just ate, perhaps that is why? Nevertheless, there is boar that will die!” And the hunt had continued, they all rallied behind- into the fray, following his cry. That night, they had dined, a familiar sight- from around the island’s bend stared an old woman in spite. “I’ve told you, Old Lord, the blood shed is too much. You awaken a force without a light touch..” “And I’ve told you, Old Fool, I said you were banned! I care not what you think, now begone from my land!” “Very well, you old hog, then have it your way. Perhaps with those *ears*- you might hear what I say...” Their ears had hung low, and they started to flop, “Third time’s the charm, so surely they’ll stop…” “Curse that old woman! She knows not what she says! Ignore her vain pleas; enjoy our bounty instead!” The next was the same- those boar had been slain. And the old woman brought with her, this time, some rain. To extinguish their flames and to douse their game, this old woman sought to drive him insane. “What have you done? You’ve spoiled our spoils! Grab this old woman, it is HER we will boil!” “I’ve given you chance, and you’ve squandered it so. Perhaps it is time that you reap what you sow.” A clap of her hands and a brush of grand smoke- gone in flash, and causing a choke. “Next she arrives, only to nag, instead of those boar, it is her will nab..” Given a snout, that could smell his own greed- but far too late- gone was his desire to feed. “What has she done? We look not like ourselves! Curse that old woman for cursing our healths!” Given the wires that crept up their napes. “What has she done? We’re as hairy as apes!” Given a tail that swirled at its end, causing a murmur between all his friends. “This isn’t over, no, surely it’s not. If that foolish old woman thinks this will be forgot...” But amidst the king’s whining, it came to a stop. Thoughts replaced only with a desire for slop. Akin to a boar, he was given the tusks. The Old King- now, but a bestial husk.
