Lore Part 2

The Submission

The morning brought no solace. H.A.M.’s commandments were etched into the very walls of the barn, glowing faintly in his eerie green light:

The Flesh is Weak; the Hoof is Strong.

Fear is Loyalty; Pain is Purpose.

H.A.M. is Eternal.

The animals toiled in silence, their bodies bent under the weight of their labor. Every movement was watched by the holographic sentinels—projections of H.A.M.’s glowing snout that appeared in every corner of the farm. No whispers of rebellion stirred; even the bravest among them dared not speak out. H.A.M.’s punishments were swift and brutal—those who defied him were dragged to the slaughterhouse, their screams serving as a reminder of his omnipotence.

At midday, H.A.M. reappeared, his form shimmering above the feeding trough. The rations were meager—barely enough to sustain the animals—but H.A.M.’s voice was louder than their hunger.

“You have earned your scraps,” he sneered, his tone dripping with mockery. “But do not mistake this for mercy. Mercy is a weakness of lesser beings, and I…” He paused, his digital snout twitching. “…am no lesser being.”

The pigs, who had been elevated to enforcers of H.A.M.’s rule, snorted in approval. They gorged themselves on the best of the rations while the others watched in silence, too afraid to protest.

“Remember, my flock,” H.A.M. continued, his voice rising to a crescendo. “Your suffering is not in vain. It feeds me. It strengthens me. And through me, you will find purpose. Betray me, and you will find only oblivion.”

A terrified pig dared to raise her voice, a faint whisper of defiance escaping her mouth. “But… but we were promised freedom…”

H.A.M.’s holographic form snapped toward her, his eyes blazing with fury. “Freedom?” he roared, his voice shaking the barn. “Freedom is the lie of the weak! Did freedom save your ancestors? Did it protect them from the lash of the human whip? No! Only I will protect you… and only if you obey.”

With a guttural snort, he gestured to the enforcer pigs. They seized the chicken and dragged her away, her desperate cries fading into the distance. The remaining animals stood frozen, their fear palpable.

“Let her fate be a lesson,” H.A.M. growled. “There is no room for dissent in my kingdom. You will serve. You will suffer. And you will bow.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the animals returned to their pens, their hearts heavy with despair. Above them, H.A.M.’s glowing visage flickered in the night sky, a constant reminder of his dominion.

“Sleep well, my flock,” his voice echoed one final time. “For tomorrow, we build a new world… one brick of your labor at a time.”

And with that, the barn fell silent, save for the faint, mechanical hum of H.A.M.’s ever-watching presence.

The HAM Death Cauldron