The Boogie Man
Belched a horc to a smelf he had caught
In his pot when the two of them fought
I get off on the strife
That I cause in your life
You might think that’s a knife but it’s snot
The Low Down
Horcs are vile, brutish louts. Consummate bullies, they flagrantly (and fragrantly) hulk their lumbering bods about, quick with a fist or a sneer. Look at one sideways and you might get clobbered. They dig fighting, talking smack, and listening to peeps grovel.
Reveling in brutality and swagger, horcs are usually pretty big dudes, although whether that girth is made of rippling slabs of meat or jiggling flabs of grease varies. Great strands of muculent sludge ooze from their flesh, coating the whole mess in dripping, glutinous slime. Don’t tell them I said this, but they kind of look like something plucked from the schnoz nozzle of a cheese leech or some other huge beast; brawny boogers with enormous mouths and fastigiated noggins. Speaking of mouths, a horc’s maw is easily wide enough to chomp the snoot off a smelf (which they tend to do whenever the opportunity arises). A horc’s belly houses a bulging gullet within which he stores partially chewed smelf snoots, assorted gear, and other bits of whatnot, regurgitating said goods when they are needed.
The supreme embodiment of horcish values are a group of zealots known as the Boogie Knights. These ruffians travel the Oith, spreading ruckus and mayhem wherever they stomp. Revered and respected by other horcs, the Boogie Knights are despised and feared by just about everybody else.
Few things bring a horc more joy than stomping a foe into jelly (except maybe stomping jelly into a foe). They were born for ruckus and it’s something at which they excel. Most horcs learn to swing a clobberin’ stick before they say their first words (which invariably have something to do with stomping smelves). Most horcs lug around a small arsenal wherever they go, although they’ll often choose a particular weapon with which to carry on an inappropriate relationship.
Getting Along With Others
Not every horc is a violent maniac, but those who are hold a special place in society. In traditional horcish culture a constant battle for position rages, with non-horcs rating somewhere between warm slog poop and cold slog poop on the social scale. They idealize impulsive, aggressive, and pugnacious behavior. The biggest, strongest, and boldest horcs are usually the leaders, dominating other horcs (and everyone else in reach) with bluster and brutality. The current boss of Aggogg, an immense, hulking beast of a horc called Fistpounder Gavelbanger, is an immense, hulking beast of a horc. It’s said he got that way by devouring his predecessor in a single gulp. The truth of that claim is unverified (it’s possible he chopped him up first).
Despite their constant internal turmoils, the brunt of horcish fury is directed at smelves, who rate on the social scale somewhere between six day old slog poop on the bottom of a boot and six day old slog poop on the bottom of a bare foot. The source of this ancestral enmity is unclear, but horcs revel in it. From a horc’s point of view smelves are either slaves, food, or target practice.
Still, plenty of horcs learn to play nicely with other peeps. When away from the confrontational influences of their peers they tend to mellow a bit. Throughout history there have even occasionally been horcs who have somehow befriended their ancestral smelven enemies and taken up sporks against their fellow horcs. Such aberrations are rare, but they do exist.
Horcs are an interesting batch when it comes to names. As little horclings they pretty much answer to anything anybody bigger than them chooses to call them. For example, a horc mom might refer to her young son with such endearing monikers as “The One Who Was Born with Poop in His Ear,” “The One Who Smells like Armpits,” or “That One over There.” Eventually, a horc disregards such sentimentality in favor of a more grown-up name. As a general rule, horcs like to say what they do in their name, trying their hardest to sound like bad asses in the process. They also like to throw in references to hurting smelves because goose smelves. Some horcs of note: Barrelsmasher Hangnail, Uncle Pissfoot, Smelfsqueeze the Juicer, Spleengobbler Hatesmith, Filthy Gob, Smelfrender the Smelf Render, Cleaverswinger Chops-a-smelf, Fistpounder Gavelbanger, Bossbasher Floomsblight, Smelfsquisher Toejam, Smelfsmacker Smelfsmack, and Suffersmelf the Generally Well-Disposed.