This is something I’ve had on my hard drive for a while: Formorians discussing what it means to be a Fomorian. I’ve decided that it makes sense to split these into different blog posts and add new ones as I go.
What I’m trying to do here is write from the perspective of people with different levels of education. Comments on that side are particularly welcome.
As anyone with even the most cursory knowledge of current affairs should know, the ongoing quarantine of the Dwarven Homeland Region in Ireland is in part motivated by the presence of the Fomorians. Fomorians, or “orcs”, are popularly known to be lumbering, mentally stunted minions of the bean sidhe with brainpower inversely proportionate to their muscle power, fit only for extermination or menial labour under heavy guard. The Firtollán Church of the Tunnels has been quite strident in simultaneously advocating their extermination and rehabilitation, and one need only peruse the popular press for exchanges where one individual has accused another of being a covert sympathiser. In the course of my duties as an alienist attached to the War Office, I have made the acquaintance of numerous Fomorians that have been detained by the British Army and Royal Navy. Some are guardsmen, forcibly exposed to Fomoritis in the line of duty. Some are children raised beyond the Corrib. This personal experience has lead me to conclude that affairs are far more nuanced, as is the case with most things in life. Connacht Trading’s recent public admission and denunciation of a rogue (albeit successful) experiment to determine the actual mechanism behind Fomoritis has sparked a high level of public interest in the Fomorians. To that end, I have attached several letters from some individuals with which I am acquainted. Among these are the two confirmatory subjects, Mstr D and Miss S. I trust that these may shed some light on the situation.
Dr Nicholas Magnusson, Department 11, War Office
I wasn't born an orc, and I never asked to be one. In fact, I was born in Maynooth, and signed up with the Royal Irish Fusiliers after hearing of a banshee raid on Castlebar in February of ‘96. During a raid that went pear-shaped in May 1912, myself and another rifleman were captured by the Fomorian Brotherhood. The long and short of it is that we escaped – or rather, we were rescued by the Army – about two months later, but by that point it was too late. Before being deployed into Connacht, we were warned of the possibility of being turned into a Fomorian. The dwarves warned us at length that being turned was a sign of “moral failing”, and that we should make all efforts to avoid capture. They were pretty unpleasant about it after they found out – pestering us at all hours to “seek redemption” (even in the middle of the night), blocking any attempt to feed us, even demanding that we simply be shot out-of-hand. One of those people had been pretty glad to have us around two months previously! Funny how things change, isn’t it? Here’s what I don’t understand about this whole thing. I took the King’s Shilling well over a decade before I was turned. Nobody has managed to explain why being turned into an orc cancels that out. I certainly don’t think it does!
Sgt James Porter