In the vast, chaotic landscape of internet subcultures, every so often a string of words appears that feels like a secret handshake. Today, we’re looking into the cryptic title: Sweetmook Lord Dung Dung 15-
When asked by a young herder if the title will end when the highest pastures are gone, Lord Dung Dung the 15th laughed, a sound like two dry stones clacking together. “Foolish child,” he said. “There is no highest pasture. There is only the next one. And as long as a yak eats grass and a human needs warmth, there will be a Sweetmook Lord. Perhaps the 16th will live on the moon. Their dung will be starlight and dust. And it will burn just fine.” Sweetmook Lord Dung Dung 15-
One summer, a terrible blight struck the Murkwood. A dense, gray fungus began to coat the earth, refusing to decay and suffocating the roots of the ancient trees. The animals grew worried, and the smaller insects looked to the palace of the 15th for salvation. In the vast, chaotic landscape of internet subcultures,
