Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

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Who won Sbtlshjogad and earned the right to be Jelb'koékaiék Mrjkai?

Prince Juhn III of Vanuku
15
56%
H'án Intrsmor Azisrmko of Jelbania
12
44%
 
Total votes : 27

Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Kubrick » Thu Feb 25, 2016 9:00 pm

Wrntukai dismounted his camel and laid eyes upon the H'án. About as old as his father, his skin as weathered as old leather. The man was in good shape and looked as tough as his voice sounded when he called out to him, insulting his father. He merely smiled and looked at his own entourage, who started laughing. To feel insulted would be a loss for him, that would be seen as disgrace. He would not disappoint his father, no matter how hard his father would have trained, he could have never won this. And that, the Banmek-Sntazed's could not let happen. He would have to win this, as he was named after the Khagan. The man who united all the Jelbics under one banner. He could not disappoint his father, his people and most importantly not his ancestors.

He carefully watched the H'án milk the camel with his arms crossed, betraying no emotion on his face. The man was swift and skilled but lacked style, he reckoned he could win this with style. If anything his father had taught him that impressing others gets you somewhere. Perhaps he could not match the speed of the H'án, but he could win this challenge with the style his tutors had taught him. When the H'án was done he beckoned his own people and they brought forward a middle-aged female, this camel wasn't as old and rugged as his. Her fur was in top shape and any loose hairs, like the chestmane, had been braided in traditional style. Another one of his men fetched a beautiful silver bowl, an old family relic that he had brought purposely for this. The legends said this bowl had been plundered from an Augustan mansion during the age of Merlkai the Conqueror, the Wrnukék that was the Scourge of the Augustans. Though the prince himself knew that it had been carbon dated to about four-hundred years after the lifespan of Merlkai. But such facts did not matter for this great ancient challenge.

He approached the camel, chin high, chest forward. He stopped next to the camel and patted her, stroking her neck and mumbling a few soothing words. Then he flicked a piece of twisted leather string from his belt and graciously swung it around the hind legs of the camel, tying it with a solid but not tight knot. One of his warriors knelt below the camel and held the ornate silver bowl above his head. Clearly this would show the old H'án that his warriors would do even the most humiliating tasks for him, only a true Wrnukék could inspire his followers to do so.

After that he graciously nodded to the Jelbic man with the ornate watch, even though he would not be able to compete with the time. Formalities were important. As the Jelbék nodded back sharply he started. He took a strong pose and started milking the camel, left and right, left and right. He tried to do it as elegantly as possible. As he milked the camel he cleared his throat and added some throatsinging to the mixture. It was style that would win him this challenge, not speed. After a considerably longer time than the H'án had taken he finished milking and took the bowl from his warrior, holding it above his head to offer it to Tanhri. After this he lowered it and looked straight towards the old H'án. He tipped his head and started drinking the milk, using all his willpower to hide his disgust for the warm salty liquid. He had eaten and drank many terrible things during his youth in the desert but camel milk had always been the most hated of them all. Perhaps a flicker of disgust could be seen on his face. When he finished drinking he went to a knee and put the bowl on the dusty earth.

It was clear that this challenge would be undecided.
"see yah i think kubs is right" ~Zanz

"I’m pretty sure your buddy Kubrick was upset he couldn’t just resort to his old ways" ~Auditorii

"You can blame Polites and Kubrick for that nightmare" ~Doc
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Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Zanz » Thu Feb 25, 2016 9:08 pm

OOC:

>>"The chest mane"
>>Clearly Kubrick wins on camel anatomy

Also loved the throatsinging touch. I should have thought of that. Bastard.

FYI I'm in Denmark for my last night tomorrow night and need to pack, then I've got a lot of traveling, so my next post may not be for a bit. If you want to take the lead on the second challenge feel free, otherwise we'll just have to hold a while :)
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Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Kubrick » Thu Feb 25, 2016 9:25 pm

OOC: Haha, I googled camels. Apparently they have a long mane on their throat/chest on some pictures, so I assume it's like a winter fur. So this challenge is now in winter/spring ;)

The throatsinging touch was a stroke of genius after I started listening to some Attila: Total War theme to get in the writing mood.

I'll leave the next challenge to you, so we go one by one. I'm a patient man and I can't wait what you think of next, love the creative writing so far.
"see yah i think kubs is right" ~Zanz

"I’m pretty sure your buddy Kubrick was upset he couldn’t just resort to his old ways" ~Auditorii

"You can blame Polites and Kubrick for that nightmare" ~Doc
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Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Zanz » Thu Feb 25, 2016 9:27 pm

Kubrick wrote:I can't wait what you think of next, love the creative writing so far.


OOC: Same, I'm having a blast writing these!
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Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Zanz » Mon Feb 29, 2016 7:15 pm

OOC: 10 to 8 in favor of the Vanukese at time of writing this - closer than I thought it'd be. I've also listened to far too much throat singing, lately, in the hopes it'll help the writing. That shit is awesome.
IC:

When the prince placed his elaborate bowl on the desert floor, empty, the H'án breathed out heavily through his nose. Wrntukai Juhnsrmo was Jeztaghé, even if born from a Zardic dog, and even if his methods were poisoned with just a hint of Wiel Jeztaghényr. His movements were fluid, almost feminine, his camel was treated as a though it were a horse, his soldiers deferred to him as no self-respecting Jelbék would, and the H'án had sworn he had seen a hint of hesitation on the man's face when he drank the camel's milk, but Wrntukai Juhnsrmo was nevertheless worthy of his namesake.

"Hyék Frto orzy Dofkai grzy ajokrza. Jeztaghé Wrnukék ajozuo. Hrerwa Wiel wrzy Wrnukék Wikà'jezhrjebrnfi orzy flakmojek trzy krjomek. Jelb'koékai wrzy srnkjokrza hrerwa Hyék dnué Támnrmnmokai orzy Besh Hye hrzy srnkjozuo. Jeztaghé Wrnukék ajozuo, hrerwa Wrnukék orzy Mouzij grzy nrkmojuo."
("Father of you a fool is not being. Steppe Wrnukék you are being. But Wiel the wind-horse [soul] of Wrnukék has made to wither and die. Jelbics do not shrink but dog-like honor-riders of you below you are shrinking. Steppe Wrnukék you are being, but the Wrnukék a mouse is becoming.")

The H'án practically spat the words, and his Támnrmnmokai laughed and whispered the words again - "Wrnukék Mouzij!" He turned to his riders, glee on his weathered face.

"Brmék Nka trzy Wrnukék Mouzij trzy Zardé Dnu... Jelbék orzy Kai ajozuo. Temrkaiék Mazrk orzy Isre wrzy ajozuo yrzá!"
("Brmék cat, Wrnukék mouse, Zardic dog... The Jelbék men are being. Temrkai's heirs we are being!) A great cheer rang out from the Jelbéks, who stomped their feet into the ground, kicking up dust, and smote their fists upon their bear chests. Intrsmor Azisrmko turned back to the Vanukese prince.

"Zardé Dnusrmko jaríjogah yrzá!" ("Zardic dog's son, stand down!") The din grew even louder, the Jelbéks jumped and shouted, the H'án was working them into a frenzy. The echos of their shouts rang back from the hills, and it was as if Terra itself spoke in response to the Jelbék H'án. Finally, after time, silence reigned once more and Intrsmor Azisrmko nodded to his riders, who brought forth a horse - alone in the herd of camels, a beautiful stallion from the Perimor steppe, the H'án's mount, Vfjogad, a noble horse of Temrkai's Breed (See OOC notes), one of the few in Jelbania.

As the riders handed the stallion's reins to the H'án, his hand stroked the horse's neck, which was slick with sweat. It had been a difficult journey for the H'án's favorite mount, and a lesser horse would have died of thirst already. The H'án whispered his thanks into his brother's ear, and the horse nuzzled his face into the H'án's, heavy, moist breath filling the H'án's ear.

The next challenge was unlike the first, and the final. Where those challenges were challenges of skill, this next was a challenge of divine favor - Tanhri's Will would decide here. Inhaling deeply, H'án Intrsmor Azisrmko swung himself atop Vfjogad in a swift and fluid motion. Once astride, the entire assembled horde, Vanukese and Jelbék, was silent. The rider with his stop watch had looked downward immediately upon the H'án's mount. The desert steppe was silent as a grave - the wind was the only sound.

It took merely half a minute. The H'án sat perfectly still atop Vfjogad, carefully mouthing prayers to Tanhri in the silence. Twice he felt the horse's flank shake under his legs, and he was certain that Vfjogad would act - but it was not until the third time that Intrsmor Azisrmko felt the expectant movement that the air of Tahnri's wings finally struck the horse of Temrkai's Breed, and Vfjogad let out a peeling and savage bray. The Jelbék riders let out a triumphant shout, and the rider with the stop watch gave the time.

The H'án dismounted and patted Vfjogad in appreciation, and turned expectantly to the Vanukese prince.

OOC notes:
I know Temrkai's Breed is a big deal to claim IC, so if it's not cool that I claimed it, let me know and I will retcon. I figured it'd be at least somewhat plausible that the Jelbék Khan would have access to one. If you're into wikiing, by the way, we really ought to create a page for Temrkai's Breed. If anyone reading along is interested, let me know and we can give a brief history of the noble horses.

ALSO, again, I wasn't sure how to make this a competition. I've left it very open (by giving no time), so feel free to do whatever you like. Sorry, these challenges are hard to RP in turn :)

OOC EDIT:
Well, I thought about changing "bear chests" to "bare chests," but screw it.
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Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Kubrick » Mon Feb 29, 2016 8:37 pm

OOC: I previously played with the idea to bring a Temrkai's Breed, but thought the desert was too harsh for that. Still, I like the addition of it and you are free to keep yours. I will deal with it IC ;) Will probaby post something tomorrow.
"see yah i think kubs is right" ~Zanz

"I’m pretty sure your buddy Kubrick was upset he couldn’t just resort to his old ways" ~Auditorii

"You can blame Polites and Kubrick for that nightmare" ~Doc
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Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Kubrick » Sun Mar 06, 2016 2:26 pm

The H'án had completed the challenge on a bastard of Temrkai's Breed. Wrntukai did not believe in divine favours, this entire challenge was based on patience and luck. Patience he had, but his gambling history told him he had little luck. He had ignored the taunting of the H'án, it was no place for a royal to respond to the sneers of lesser men. But as his luck was this bad, he decided not to leave it to luck. His plan was both devious and dangerous, if it was discovered he would be disqualified from this round.

"You are unworthy of that honour." he spoke, gesturing to the H'án's Temrkai's Breed. "Your ancestors never got a legitimate Temrkai's Breed. It is a beautiful horse, I will give you that, but all it is is a bastard." he said directly to the H'án, smiling slyly. His men murmured in support and some even whispered 'pretender', though Wrntukai hoped for their sake they didn't whisper it too loud. He then turned around and nodded to his tallest warrior. The gruff man turned around and walked to the back of their pack, fetching a large grey stallion. A proper Temrkai's Breed, though his own was sweating as bad as the H'án's. His steed had no proper name, as in Krlmék tradition a man should not name his horse, for the Skyfather had already named the horse. Though Wrntukai was fairly sure this tradition came from the fact that horses died more swiftly in the harsh western Vanukean desert. Sometimes he called the animal Ben, but that was more of a joke than anything else.

He took the reins from his warrior and stroked Ben across his neck. "This, my opponent, this is a true Temrkai's Breed. Pure in strength, colour and soul. I lay my trust in Tanhri that he shall neigh swiftly and loudly." he said, looking towards the Jelbéks. Then he turned around and took a piece of apple from his pocket and while holding it in the palm of his hand he guided it past Ben's nose. That stallion was the fiercest beast he had ever met, but there was no food he loved more than apples and he would always whine for it if he smelled it. Wrntukai did not give Ben his piece of apple but instead turned the horse and in a swift motion handed it to the tall warrior.

He then mounted the stallion, who immediately looked at the tall warrior and almost attempted to set step in his direction, but Wrntukai swiftly put a stop to that. He made a loud and clear prayer to Tanhri, asking for his divine intervention. He had to struggle a bit to keep Ben in one place and he hoped it wouldn't show too much. After only a few minutes Ben had enough and started neighing for his apple. Wrntukai smiled triumphantly and dismounted his horse, walking towards the tall warrior who quickly disposed of the piece of apple. The whole ordeal left Ben quite unsatisfied but Wrntukai counted his blessings.

"Your turn, noble H'án." he said.

OOC: Can't go wrong with a little cheating I say. Feel free to bust him on it if you want, leaving that to you! Also my apologies for the delay, been very busy.
"see yah i think kubs is right" ~Zanz

"I’m pretty sure your buddy Kubrick was upset he couldn’t just resort to his old ways" ~Auditorii

"You can blame Polites and Kubrick for that nightmare" ~Doc
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Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Zanz » Wed Mar 09, 2016 3:16 am

When the Vanukese prince insulted Vfjogad, the previously gleeful and raucous Jelbék were perfectly, murderously still - at a word from the H'án they would strike. To insult a man was one thing, even to insult a H'án, but to insult a Jezhrjebrnfi, especially one of Temrkai's Breed, was an insult beyond forgiveness. It was a sign of how far the Wrnukék had fallen - Temrkai H'án would have slain the prince himself if he had heard his withered descendant speak of the progeny of his horse's noble line in such fashion.

The H'án, however, knew that to allow his men to right this injustice would mean to end the Sbtlshjogad without resolution, and to have come this far for nothing was pointless - and besides, the next challenge was his favorite.

He lifted a hand to his men, tough and leathery palm raised in a gesture that intimated his will - hold. His eyes never left the Vanukese prince and the Wrnukék riders - he knew that they spoke of him with tongues that ought to be cut from their mouths, but he was no fool. He stilled his breathing and observed as the prince brought forth his own horse.

The prince's theatrics in praising Tanhri and his own Temrkai's Breed were lost on the ears of the H'án, and his prayer to Tanhri was hollow. H'án Intrsmor Azisrmko had little doubt that Tanhri would favor the Jelbék, indeed, the Wrnukék poisoned the message of Tanhri in their Zollist practices, and Tanhri could not possibly favor him.

When Wrntukai mounted, however, the H'án immediately knew that something was wrong. His steed was restive, and it was all the prince could do to contain the ferocity of the noble horse. It was as if Tanhri had inhabited the stallion, and he neighed almost immediately. The prince was smug when he dismounted, his face full of religious fervor. How could Tanhri favor such weakness?

With that the second challenge came to an end. Though the H'án had succeeded, Vfjogad had been swept into voice by Tanhri's wings much more slowly than had the prince's steed, and Intrsmor Azisrmko knew that the final challenge would need a dramatic victory. He nodded once more to his men, who brought forth a large cart, its contents shrouded in a white cloth tarp.

This time, the H'án did not speak. He had hoped to fluster the Wrnukék, to frustrate him and cause him to make a mistake. It had been an unsuccessful strategy, the youthful prince was more sure of hand than he looked, and the Jelbék knew when to abandon a failing ploy. And so, wordlessly, the H'án lifted the tarp.

Beneath, two terrified looking Majatran boys, each no older than fourteen, lay shackled in the shallow bed of the cart. They shielded their eyes pathetically with emaciated arms as the harsh steppe sun shone upon them. Kalopian machines, born in the steppe, slaves since birth. Their brown eyes were filled with terror, their hair full of dust from riding hundreds of miles across the steppe in that cart, their skin scabbed and scarred, burnt from wind and sun. The H'án signaled to his riders, who spread away from the cart. He reached down, and unlocked the shackles of one of the boys. He lifted the teen easily from the cart and pointed him away from the riders, toward the mountainous border of Vanuku. "Go," he said clearly to the boy in Majatran, and the machine took flight.

The boy ran without care for the dangers of the steppe, though he knew them well. He had been born in the deep Perimor steppe, in the estate of the Jelbék Bank of the World, where his parents were kept as the property of a Kalopian tycoon. The boy had been born the property of the Jelbék bank, part of the agreement with the Kalopians, and sold into the service of the H'án. His feet were bare and toughened, they had never known shoes. The gravel of the steppe did not cut him. His feet padded swiftly upon the ground, a cloud of dust rose about him as he fled northward, away from the cart, away from the H'án, away from the riders, and toward the mountains. If he could reach them - they didn't appear to be too far - he could find a cave, shelter himself from the unforgiving sun, and perhaps survive. It was not in his nature to question the opportunity for escape that he had been given. It was in his nature only to escape. He was swift. He was strong. He would survive. Each minute's flight was a minute closer to freedom.

In an instant, with a sickening snick, the whirring shaft of a beautifully crafted arrow pierced into the back of the boy's head, splitting the taut skin and burrowing onward, easily, through his skull and lodging firmly in the fragile, precious gray-matter of his brain. The boy was dead before his body hit the ground in a rolling cartwheel, and the steppe gained a precious fount of biological material.

In the crowd of riders, H'án Intrsmor Azisrmko lowered his bow when the body hit the ground. He was satisfied with his shot - just over one hundred yards, if he had to guess, and an undisputed kill. He turned to the prince, looking to see if the civilized Wrnukék would balk at the challenge. "Your turn, prince."
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Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Kubrick » Mon Mar 14, 2016 7:30 pm

As he stepped down the stallion he felt nervous and he did his best to hide his uneasy feelings. The H'án did not look happy but made no intention to call him a fraud or a cheater. He did not say a single word, which for a moment worried Wrntukai as the Jelbéks looked tense. Perhaps his taunts had gone a step too far, for no man mentioned the challenge or raised a finger. As the H'án had raised his hand he felt reassured, they were only insulted, the little mouse had stepped on their pride.

The final challenge was one that had worried him for a long time, before he set out. Even his father had spoken to him about it, urging him to do his utmost to win but to never slay an innocent child for an empty title. He had hoped the H'án had been less of a traditionalist but as the tarp was raised his heart sunk in his chest. Two boys, teenagers, not even sixteen. Slaves, no doubt. He had always detested the inhumane practices that had become so common in Jelbania during the 'dark times' of the past few decades. But now there was no turning back, if he would stop the H'án he would lose by default and a big fight would break out. Nobody would win that.

As the boy ran on his weathered feet the prince watched the H'án pull back the bowstring and as he released the arrow he closed his eyes. The far away dusty thump confirmed his expectations, a clear hit in the back of the head. There was no way for him to win this challenge, but he would not shy back from it. So far he had been the 'clever' one and he would do that one more time, even though his cleverness would be his weakness this time. He gestured to his right hand man who went off to fetch his Majatran boy. The strong warrior brought the boy to him and he kneeled. As an international royal he had also been taught the Northern ways and thus he addressed the boy in his native tongue. "Fear not, youngling, you shall not be slaughtered like your brother. Run like the wind and you shall live." he spoke to the slaveboy. With that he rose and he slapped the boy on the back of his head. "Run!" he shouted in Wrnukék.

And so the boy ran, like a wild man he ran jumping over the corpse of the other boy, and he kept on running. It was only then that the prince grabbed his bow and looked towards the H'án, giving him a single nod and a long stare. By the time he raised his bow the boy was almost a speck. Wrntukai raised his bow high and released one arrow. In the distance the boy dropped but even he could not see where he had hit him. He mumbled a soft prayer, to Boh instead of Tanhri, and then gestured for his horse. As he mounted it he could see a Jelbék with a binocular smile like a smug bastard while turning around and saying that the boy was still alive.

As he arrived the boy was clutching his leg where the arrow was sticking out and when he dismounted the poor soul tried to crawl away. "Stop, boy, you will live, it is only a wound. Wounds will heal. Come to me and I will keep you safe. Come with me and I will assure you will have your vengeance." he spoke in Majatran as he approached the boy. The slave had tears running across his cheeks but stopped moving and thus Wrntukai picked him up and swung him over the back of his horse. As he came back he could see the disapprovement on the faces of some of the Jelbéks, though most of them looked happy with their H'án having a clear victory.

He stopped his horse in the middle between the two groups and one of his men came to fetch the boy and dragged him away to treat his leg. He dismounted and turned towards the H'án. "I have lost this challenge for am I not a child-murderer. That is not the will of Tanhri. Not anymore." he said. Then he looked behind him and he saw one of his men wrapping a bandage around the leg of the boy. That little Majatran had bled for him and then trusted him. Perhaps he would have a future in Wiel.
"see yah i think kubs is right" ~Zanz

"I’m pretty sure your buddy Kubrick was upset he couldn’t just resort to his old ways" ~Auditorii

"You can blame Polites and Kubrick for that nightmare" ~Doc
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Re: Sbtlshjogad (Poll included, participatory RP!)

Postby Zanz » Mon Mar 14, 2016 8:43 pm

OOC: Alright, everyone! We've completed the three challenges. Feel free to reread and cast (or recast) your votes. I'm busy for the next couple of days but I'll try to take a tally in two days time and will RP either the loss or the win, depending on the votes. Thanks for playing along :)

Kubrick, really good work! Thanks :)

Everyone, feel free to post OOC here with any questions or comments or any suggestions you might have for us to work into Jelbic culture. It's still being born every day, so we would love any thoughts you might have!
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