Muscle Church - RPLOG
Participants
Date
27/9/480
Log
It is a hot, overcast day outside the walls of Firmament and a steady trickle of beings meander the roads and fields toward a large tent set up in one of the recently harvested fields. Several beings of varying species stand waiting at the large door to the canvas structure to welcome the interested beings.
One of the beings in the area is Ambrose, the older Jaguar. His tail swaying behind him, he seems to be on one of his noontime jogs. He'd noticed the tent earlier today, only to be turned away, and with the proverbial door apparently open now, he's quick to try and satiate his curiosity, however minor.
The blacksmith Cary was slightly interested in this "Gathering" as advertised by the flyers. Sure, he was skeptical as always about the creator religion, but it was always good to see what they were up to. He was sitting near the tent for a while, observing the beings and waiting for the doors to welcome visitors.
The beings running things here don't seem to be machine priests from the Creator Church. They all wear uniform grey robes, though they wear different colors of belts. Probably indicating their standing in whatever this group is.
Inside the large tent, it is standing room only. The freshly harvested fields are tamped down flat by the passage of may feet, and a long stage has been set up in the center of the tent, so that everyone can see the group of robed beings clustered and chatting there.
Another tailflick from the jaguar, as he meanders through the crowd to get to a decent spot. Once he finds his place, he puts a little more of his weight on the cane, scanning the crowd and the people on the stage. "Curious. Do you s'pose these beings are a traveling acting-troupe of sorts?" he offers to the being next to him, whoever that might turn out to be.
The blacksmith wanders inside the tent as beings start to pour in, trying to find a good spot to stand on. Considering their size, this wasn't going to be that easy. As he walked next to the robed figures, he inspected some of them, trying to find out any other symbols or the like that would identify them. Eventually, he stopped next to a Jaguar. He shrugged at the question. "No idea yet. They certainly don't look like your usual priests though."
The priests, if that is what they are, wear no distinguishing symbol. They are all dressed simply in their robes and colored belts. They do all seem to be in good physical condition, though they span many different species, sizes, and ages. Many seem to be male, but there are a few females scattered among them.
Up on the stage, a gigantic crocodile wearing a red sash steps up to the edge of the stage and holds up his hands for quiet. "Brothers and sisters!" he calls out over the murmer of the crowd, "Welcome! May you find peace and enlightenment here!"
"Peace and enlightenment? That's a bold claim," Ambrose offers to no-one in particular with a smile on his lips, tail flicking, swaying and weaving behind him as he keeps his eyes trained on the stage. "Though they do seem to take care of themselves. A good sign, I s'pose, no?" he carries on as he leans on his cane.
Cary crosses his arms, squinting his eyes a little bit as he looks up to the stage, still wondering what this is all about. "Hmm. Only peace and enlightenment that I get is from back breaking labour." The saurian mutters, no smile, no sway, just still and paying close attention to the robed people.
While the Crocodile does not actually respond directly to Ambrose or Cary, there is a general murmur from the audience. "These are trying times that we live in," he calls out, opening his arms wide, as if to embrace the audience on one side of the stage, "We all seek peace, we must all seek enlightenment! But where is it to be found?" He looks around the room, perhaps a bit dramatically. "The First Text teaches us how we can be healthy and happy," he continues, "And in this we can find true peace." So far, it sounds like a typical mass from the Church. . .
Another smile, another flick of the ears, as Ambrose watches the being on the stage. "A new interpretation of the first text, then?" he offers, again to no-one in particular, and probably nowhere near loud enough to be heard on the stage. Still, he seems intrigued to some degree, and his gaze is focused on the crocodile addressing the crowd.
Meanwhile, a sigh from the Ankylosaur. "I guess that would be a clever way to attract more people." He whispers, still pretty skeptical but definitely intrigued to hear what the crocodile has to say.
"But the first text is not enough!" the huge crocodile continues, drawing an unhappy muttering from some of the crowd, especially a knot of machine priests, obviously from the Church itself. "Behold!" he calls out dramatically, producing a book from within his robes, "Greater knowledge for us on the path to enlightenment!" The book is not particularly large, but anyone near enough to the stage could easily see the smiling face of a handsome Creator on the cover, along with the blocky, uniform writing of the First Language. The book looks a little tattered around the edges, old, but obviously well cared for.
Another browraise, another chuckle. "Any idea what they found, lad? I've seen some creator texts, even if I can't read 'em, and this doesn't look like anything I've ever seen or held," he offers, keeping a critical outlook on things as he continues leaning on his cane. Doesn't seem like he's particularly impressed, though he isn't outright dismissive, either.
"Judging by the cover it looks largely like a book used by the creators for their own entertainment. Like a joke book, except there's no clown, or maybe there is." Cary raspily says, not impressed either. "Seems to me that it's written 'The Zen of the Barbell', any words ring a bell to you?" The saurian asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Here is the Way!" the Croc says, waving the book over his head, "How can we better praise our creators, than by perfecting their creation? Behold! The way of the lifted weight!"
On the crocodile's cue, the robed beings around the tent all suddenly disrobe, untying their sashes and letting their grey robes fall to the ground, revealing that all of them wear only tight, revealing clothing beneath. And all of them, big and small, male and female, are incredibly fit and toned, though many body types are represented. Many of the furrier breeds of being seem to have actually shaved their fur short to show off their muscles.
The immense croc on stage has also discarded his outer clothing, revealing his hugely muscled form. "It is in lifting the weight of the world that we truly allow it to fall away from us!" he says as the nearly nude beings around the tent flex and pose.
"Like... Weights? For training?" Ambrose offers, brow raised almost perpetually now. "The creators have plenty of curious passtimes that beings can't afford to even understand. I wouldn't be surprised if this was just another one of those. Though, as far as scripture goes, an inclination towards building muscle isn't the strangest I've ever heard, and it doesn't exactly strike me as dangerous."
And then, the beings disrobe. "Perhaps a little eccentric, and to some, a little tasteless, but not exactly harmful."
