. . . PORK CURSERS . . .
. . . hordes of pigs driven before proper two-legged soldiers to trigger landmines. As the pigs are blown apart, the superheated bits are caught between slices of bread held like catcher's mitts by the soldiers. This is the Way of Snack. But more importantly, the angered spirits of the blown apart swine fly about collectively as a hot-gibbering, moist-vulgar wind full of elaborate execrations and hexes and denigrations aimed at the advancing soldiers who marched them to their recent doom. These pig ghost winds will themselves into phantasmal guts-beasts, who verge on full corporeality, not quite all-the-way-embodied, usually manifesting as a burning glaze of goo which, on contact, induces hallucinations inside the rubbleminds of the soldiers. If the soldiers are sufficiently armored, then the gear will come alive with wild ambitions, equipment more real than character. The omnidirectional chaos and strife that ensues as each soldier-or set of soldiering gear- pursues visionary dreams of New Regimes and New Religions and New Nations and New Fad Diets is alarming to behold, but generally held to be an excellent form of exercise in terms of battlefield arts. Tho' loyalty is the primary virtue of a soldier, one cannot but be impressed by desires to pursue New Endeavors, even beyond the normal bounds of Authorized Existence. Even the Kings and Ministers and Gods of the Kingdom more often than not feel inspired to leap out of themselves and into Fresh Forms of Fun. Therefore, shy not from the hot wind of splattery gore as the mine-swine march dutifully into blast after blast. You just might catch a New Nation Self for all the damn mess!
