Demon Pigs have overrun the Folded Lands

The people living in the Folded Lands, a range of rugged hills, have always had their own ways of doing things. They have had little truck with the folks living in the eastern lowlands, outside of some trading and the occasional wife-searching when their family trees start looking a little too straight. New God missionaries went up into those hills years ago, sold the locals on a new way of believing, and somehow winkled out the labor and materials they needed from them to put their temples up in every single one of those communities. The Folded didn’t care. They stopped believing in the old gods years and years ago, and if worshiping the New God meant getting some aid from the Empire that claimed to rule them, so much the better.

There were some, though, who thought embracing other gods was an affront to the small gods of the hills. These people lived between the toes of these foothills, who communicated in tongues long forgotten and knew scarcely more than a few words and phrases of the Common Speech. No, these folks hated the idea of some do-gooder coming in and angering the spirits—so they decided to do something about it.