Among the Porcine Beastmen, certain figures stand apart. Whether by instinct, crude sorcery, or a deeper attunement to primal forces, these witches are held in high regard for as long as they remain useful. Their presence is closely bound to the gluttony that defines the swinefolk. When one moves among the drove, hunger becomes frenzied and contagious. The air grows thick with stink and heat, and even the smallest of their kind may be driven into berserk violence.

Nothing about the swinefolk is disciplined, yet this figure can direct them in unsettling ways. Guttural cries and stamping rhythms can pull raiders away from easy plunder and toward living resistance. For a brief time, appetite is delayed and violence given shape. That moment of focus makes them far more dangerous, turning chaotic feeding into pressure aimed at a chosen point until it breaks.

Such standing is always temporary. Among these beasts, usefulness is the only measure that matters. If the influence fails to bring fuller bellies and greater slaughter, the so-called revered one is no more protected than any other. Hunger does not respect rank. When the drove turns, it turns quickly, and the one who once commanded their attention may be dragged down like the rest.