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The Brahmin Awakens; Another Jarmuk Solo
Topic Started: Dec 11 2016, 12:24 PM (90 Views)
Platon
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The Prophet of Toast
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Jarmuk drank deeply from the fermented brahmin’s milk; his head dizzy and sluggish, his face hot and red. The crackling bonfires shimmered vividly before him; and the sparks they vomited into the sky made his dim eyes widen with brief alarm. Now and then he saw silhouettes of naked nymphs dance before the flames, and it made his blood run fiercely. He wanted to run up to them; to dance and fight and roar brutal ballads in a fit of frenzied festivity. But his limbs were much too heavy now; and his back much too firmly lodged into the hill of blankets and cushions that made up his seat.

He gargled forth a gruesome grumble. Spread all over his chest was the virtual painting of food stains which was responsible for his immobile state. Tidbits of torn meat, splotches of milk and various breadcrumbs laid scattered like leaves after a storm. His stomach was angry and swollen - the stubbly chin glistened with grease. An orgy of food had wrecked its toll on the warrior turned prophet, and he was now lost in the oppressive void mortal men knew as a “food coma”.

On his sides, spread out in a wide semicircle, sat the gaily plumed elders of the tribe; taciturn and stone-faced, watching their subjects celebrating around the fires. A few of them - who had been venerated shamans before Jarmuk brought his goddess to the tribe – trembled with barely contained anger. Because in that red holocaust of flames burned the fetishes and sculptures of their own gods – who the new prophet had accused of being false idols earlier that night. What had been their entire culture was being destroyed before their eyes – and with it, the power and prestige they had flaunted with for so long.

But Jarmuk – for all his burps and regurgitations – was more than pleased. He had wandered into these lands as a landless vagabond, owning nothing save for what he could carry in his fists. Now he had climbed out of the ranks of naked barbarism to become the head of an entire tribe, with warriors ready to die for his cause and servants who wanted nothing more than to be told what to do by their new overlord. Food and drink was no longer scarce in his life; a great victory for one who had to once had to boil dog droppings for sustenance.

“Great one,” a voice suddenly called out. He snapped out of his half-sleep to find a servant kneeling before him; naked but for the intricate mud paintings on his ivory skin. “Yesterday’s gods have been thrown in righteous fire. Now our people are anxious to hear you call in the night; to proclaim your leadership and tell us what our future shall be from now on.”

Jarmuk squinted his narrow eyes; chest heaving with deep, cumbersome breaths. Then, with an explosive effort, he rose from the cushions and swayed on uneasy legs: waddling determinedly to the bonfires. The servant heralded his arrival; and the tribe erupted in ecstatic shrieks and cheers. Grown women threw themselves to the ground, and naked men threw dust for lack of flower petals; clouding the air in a swarthy mist through which the giant prophet stalked like a shadow.
Herman Higueras -HC-
Appearance
Scrawny, dark-colored ghoul. Black patches of hair, lacking an upper lip.
Equipment
Armor: Packrat's Clothing.
Weapons: Phazer, Switchblade.
Level: 3

Jarmuk
Level: 2

Isaac -HC- - Mayor of Bucket Town

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The Platon
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Platon
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The Prophet of Toast
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
He stopped a full foot before the fire; whose flames etched red gleams on his powerful frame. Around him people were either flat on their bellies or groveling on their knees; all heads bowed respectfully and all hands clasped together in fearful pleading. A growl escaped his greasy lips. In the past he had been a powerful tactician; commanding soldiers and warriors by the tenfold. Now he was a living god; worshipped and idolized by hundreds. This was true power, he thought to himself; tangible and intoxicating.
Stretching both arms into the air; he absorbed their submission, their dreams and desires in a single powerful roar. The rest of the tribe rose from the ground and repeated his noise; filling the night with terrible, frenzied shrieks. Then, amidst the savage howling, he cried:

“We return weakness to the flames! Death to the false gods who would have men crawling on their bellies like worms! Death to misleading shamans who crave that we smear animal’s guts on their altars! The future mudwalker will not be a man of devotion, but a man of character! Rise as one man and fill the fire with these disgusting idols of the past! This pleases our goddess, our history and our people! This saves our honor!”

The crowds went ecstatic, and Jarmuk smirked sluggishly with self-contentedness. A log burst in the bonfire; shooting a burst of sparks that danced past him in the smoke.

“And to this end I want to encourage you to peer directly into the pitiless eyes of life;” He continued and pointed to the flames. “to destroy the fear of death in order to gain again the respect for life. It is a strong, great and symbolic undertaking.”

He passed through the crowd, and the naked tribesmen shrank back fearfully; lest they so much as touch the air he breathed. Not even the elders were slower in making room for him. He wobbled to the outskirts of the village – where the arid flatlands gaped emptily blue in the starlight.

“These lands are barren and desolate. They can never provide the greatness our people are destined for.” He turned around to the tribe. “Your old gods deserted you. They made your river run dry and your crops wither. No man, woman, priest or king will ever freely give you that which you desire. Only by taking what we want, will we get what we want. Only through war will we become great and respected.”

“You are strangers to the ways of the spear and shield. Way back in the centuries; you traded in your swords for plowshares – and this has made you feeble. Tonight, we let our fires grow big and bright. They will not only burn the gods who betrayed you; but the lifestyle which weakened you. The flames will engulf your village, and you will once again live by the herd and the tent. We will wander the wasteland as a relentless force, and grow fatter and fatter with conquest until the entire world has become our own army.”

The sea of glittering eyes suddenly widened. There were some who had not been entirely swayed by Jarmuk’s speech, and their hearts swelled with horror at the thought of losing their homes. They turned, but were immediately met with the prophet’s warriors blocking their path. Behind them were the silhouettes of loyalists, running back and forth between the mud huts with torches in their hands.

Not long afterwards, the air was sickened with the stench of burning thatch; cracks and bursts ripped the night, and over all rose the exultant “Yee! yee! yee!” of maddened mudwalkers; their jumping bodies crimsoned in the lurid glow. Their home had become a madhouse reddened into shambles; blackened beams breaking and totems collapsing into cinders.

Jarmuk’s chest heaved deeply; his eyes mirroring the inferno in front of him. His people’s cheers and cries were muffled to his ears; drowned out by the thumping of his heartbeat.

“I am Jarmuk;” he whispered, “A slayer of men. My time has come.”
Herman Higueras -HC-
Appearance
Scrawny, dark-colored ghoul. Black patches of hair, lacking an upper lip.
Equipment
Armor: Packrat's Clothing.
Weapons: Phazer, Switchblade.
Level: 3

Jarmuk
Level: 2

Isaac -HC- - Mayor of Bucket Town

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The Platon
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Blue
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Showdown Record: 1 - 1 - 1
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Junior modding here because I really dig your writing with Ernak.

This wasn't a long piece but I felt like you captured the savage spirit of the wasteland better than any piece I've read prior. Granted most people who write tribals don't fully commit to portraying their lifestyle like you do, but dang does it make for some refreshing material. Jarmuk's character shines through in little pieces here, and I feel like he has some intriguing depth as a potential future villain or major player once he reaches the main play area.

I don't have a whole lot of criticisms here; in part because of the solid writing, but also because of the short length. I think it would be good to expand on the characters within the tribe you now rule; at the moment you've given them interesting details (differentiating between those who willingly buy into Jarmuk's burning of their culture and those who watch him with shadowy anger), but they feel like a sea of faces. I know that Jarmuk is generally focused more on his ideas for the tribe as a whole than being the kind of leader who runs around learning everyone's name, but I would like to see a few of the important ones fleshed out in the future.

If nothing else I'd like to see a bit longer of an RP out of you in the future, if only to really see a Jarmuk arc take off. Now onto the part you've been waiting for.

Quote:
 

Mud Walker Reputation +150  - You're their new Chieftain who's out to forge them into something beautiful and dangerous. The average tribe member wants to die for your cause. Be wary though, many of the elders you've displaced are not nearly as happy to see the gods they've worshiped their entire lives be set aside by some foreigner. You have the first part of your army, but they expect big things quick, and the old guard will be ready to turn the tribe against you if you slip up.

LEVEL UP - A Chieftain must learn fast.

Mud-Walker Champion's Spear (GC Tier 1) - A spear carved and forged from a piece of rebar that was pulled from the river. This weapon may be old but the piece identifies you as the leader of the Mud Walkers. 
Gilbert Rose Level 5
S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 3 5 3 8 6 9 6
Weapons: Type 57 Machinepistol, Stun Grenades
Short, thick brown hair and beard, lanky and surefooted.

"Doctor" Jasper Cobb Level 1 -HC-
S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 4 6 6 3 10 6 5
Weapons: Scalpel
Short, with round features, looks unsettling to most.

Sebastian Coates Level 1 -HC-
S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 7 3 6 6 4 7 7
Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Cultist Knife (Tier 1)
Average height, bulky for a ghoul.

Sun Apr 30, 1:17:19pm
cewebwalz: your my spaghetti daddy blue

Tue June 19, 9:52:57pm
lonesomedrifter23: ^Blue the best mod in the business
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