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."
"I don't know, never seen or heard that word before. Nor Zen, it means less than nothing to me." Sighing again, the saurian adds, "Doesn't exactly strike me as dangerous either, but.. Why the-"
Cary stops speaking to glance at the beings around disrobing. "Um.. Uh."
Some beings roll their eyes and leave when the strange behavior commences, including the party from the Church, with one, notable exception. Some actually laugh at the display, though it does not seem to bother the posing beings in the least. And some, like the young raccoon left behind by the contingent of priests look on with rapt attention.
A pair of muscular beings haul a metal bar, fitted with thick, metal disks onto the stage and set it down in front of the Crocodile, who passes his book along to one of them before turning back to the slightly dwindled crowd. "We were made to be strong!" he says, his voice reverbrating through the tent, "And in this, we fulfill our purpose. In lifting, we find singleness of purpose, and we learn the way of the lifted weight. To lift them up and to put them down again. We foster inner strength as we cultivate outer strength." He then takes up a position behind the massive weight and heaves it up above his head in a display of strength!
Beside Ambrose and Cary, a massively obese boar is watching the display with keen interest. "Absolutely wonderful," he says thoughtfully, "I never thought I would see the day they managed it."
"Yes, lad? Beings oft find meaning in things that are meaningless to others. Such are people, no? I find meaning and value in gems, others might find it in their prowess with the stove, and yet others," Ambrose offers. "Although I admit, a religious fervor for any one thing might not be a thing to be praised, it is not inherently something to be feared, either... Although their choice of... Dress is curious, certainly."
"Certainly, I don't condemn, but I don't approve religious fervor either. Still, if they're happy and not harming anyone else, I'm fine with it." Said Cary, shifting his gaze towards the boar and raising an eyebrow. "Fancy meeting you here. Still, the day they managed it?"
The boar tears his eyes away from the Crocodile on stage who has moved on from his display of strength and is showing off massive arms and a thick, hard belly in a routine of poses.
"I've never seen gluttony look so. . . " the boar hesitates, looking for the best word, "Healthy? It is really rather remarkable." He licks his lips as scantily clad beings haul crates and balls and stones around the tent, finding places among the thinned crowd to set up stations for a variety of odd activities.
"Join us," the Crocodile calls from the stage, "Partake in the clarity of mind offered by the way of the lifted weight. Be one with us, for a day, for a week, or for a lifetime. Let our brothers and sisters teach you and help you find enlightenment." It seems like each station is meant to help train some part of a being's body.
"I think I'll pass, lad. Though I'd be happy to listen to your story, none-the-less," Ambrose offers the crocodile, once he's addressed. His tail is swaying behind him, as he meanders over with his cane, decidedly -less- spry than he was when he wandered in. "I go for my morning, afternoon, and evening walks to keep in shape, but this old body ain't good for building muscle, I'm afraid," he offers with a genuine smile on his lips, as he moves to lean against the stage. "Care to enlighten me on how you came across this 'way of the lifted weight?'"
Cary chuckles, "Well then, seems to me that lifting weight is a religion I've been practicing almost every day without knowing. Although I'd like to know how they came across that book. But see, I always told people that back breaking labour is its own reward." Says Cary, loudly cracking his knuckles."
The large saurian added towards Olloch, "I wouldn't say gluttony though. More like, excess."
"I know gluttony when I taste it, kiddo," the boar says, giving a tusked grin to Cary. The immense boar winks at the saurian and waddles off to mingle among all the beings still milling around.
The Croc from the stage turns a toothy grin on Ambrose as the feline draws near. He turns and gives some instruction to one of the other beings on the stage before hopping from the stage to stand swagger toward Ambrose and Cary. "How does anyone come across sacred text?" he asks, "It was given to me by a Creator. Perhaps he did not realize its value to beings like ourselves, but it has been a great boon to me and all of my acolytes." Up close, it becomes apparent that the Croc is not so young as he appeared from a distance. An unusual stubble of silver appears on his lower jaw and dense curls of hair are visible on his exposed torso. Rather unusual for a reptile.
"A Creator, you say?" Ambrose offers. Did he offer to explain your newfound... Scripture? Did he pass it along? I must say, it's an interesting way of viewing things, and self-improvement is never a bad thing, after all. Though, I must admit curiousity. What is your sect's stance on matters of the mind? Your stance on physical improvement is certainly well-established," he offers as he gestures around.
Cary chuckles, "I'm the one usually calling people kids, but I'll take it considering you're probably older than the world itself." Added Cary, shaking his head lightly before the boar waddled off, yet with a faint smile.
As the croc approached them, the seasoned saurian turned towards him, nodding. "Mhm. And did this creator mention anything else? The words on the book's title are pretty much unknown to me. What is 'Zen', even?" He asked, crossing his arms again.
"Oh yes!" the Crocodile says with enthusiasm, "He explained it in detail. I can read most of it, though, like you, I found that some of the things written in the book were beyond my understanding." He grins and flexes his huge, sculpted muscles. "Don't let the muscles fool you," he says, "The Way of the Lifted Weight is as much a mental exercise as a physical one. It teaches endurance, meditation, cooperation and so much more! You know that the monks of the Aranian order seek enlightenment through combat? Perhaps this is similar, but we do not advocate conflict, only the pursuit of physical excellence and mental balance." He nods to Ambrose's cane, "Why, I imagine that the Way would help even you!" he says, "Age is no factor. And the Way has power to heal many ailments that befall us."
He turns his attention to Cary. "Zen," he says, "It is something like. . . becoming one with everything around you and finding your truest self. We hope to build a veritable temple here in Firmament where all may come to practice the Way."
"I'm no religious man, my friend. I've long given up on miracles. Though I certainly don't disagree that the physical arts are connected with the mental arts. Now, in my younger years, I've traveled, and I wouldn't say the Aranians advocate conflict. It is more... Self-control. Techniques to use your body, in the hope that you'll never need them. I hear it's a common thing further east, as well."
"Perhaps I will visit you later, my friend, but for the time being, I will have to pass. 'tis far too hot for me to exert myself beyond a steady walk," he offers with a friendly smile.
"I've been to an Aranian monastery once, they seem to teach something similar to this 'Zen' thing then. I'm no religious man either but they have... Interesting techniques of balance." Says Cary. "They envelop some of their techniques within the scope of blacksmithing, which has earned me a visit in the coming months... Either way, as our friend here, I will probably visit you later as I must return to my duties. Thankfully, the heat is not a problem for me."
"We look to become a fixture around here," the Crocodile says with a nod, "And all are welcome here. We ask only for a small contribution to keep our facilities running, unless you choose to join the brotherhood, of course." The Crocodile waves a hand in farewell and goes to speak to another knot of interested beings.
