Avatar of Afro Samurai

Status

Recent Statuses

7 yrs ago
Don't leave me, baby! Middle of winter, I'm freezin' baby! - It's cold, and Gucci Mane lyrics work for most any context when slightly edited.

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts



The Rise of Kul

Smor’Gen’Blok


Ja’Kul curled over from Hi’Wor’s punch. Bargaining with Hi’Wor was not going to work, but for the sake of respectability, Za’Kul would do as Ja’Kul instructed. One chance at reason is all Hi’Wor would get. The likelihood his plea would penetrate Hi’Wor’s venbu-thick skull was almost nihil and Za’Kul knew he was foolish for trying, but he had to at least try--if only for his father’s sake.

“Hi’Wor. We bargain. Not need war. Kul not slave, but Kul will agree to other terms.”

Za’Kul knew the risks of war, and if he could not convince Hi’Wor otherwise, war is what it would come down to--and he had no clue how his people would win if they had to take up arms against the War’Boa.
<Snipped quote by Afro Samurai>
I'm both confused and fascinated.


Short version: T'Challa ends up in Hell's Kitchen as Murdock's replacement and ends up resurrecting a metaphysical entity of hate--the spirit of a former Klansmen named Hatemonger. The American Panther is uh... Hatemonger's minion, he ain't T'Challa though.
<Snipped quote by Afro Samurai>

Nope. No diversity here. Only straight white male (unless gender swapped or Gowi) humans. No black panthers.



The American Panther it is, then.
Can I make a Panther? One who is, in particular, black?
The Rise of Kul

Smor’Gen’Blok


Ju’Kul imparted his wisdom; Za’Kul held to it through gritted teeth. Youth imparted passion; passion, war; war, disgrace. He could not let his family name fall any lower than it was after his father had worked a century and more to drag it from dust. In tune and a step behind Ju’Kul he waded, his mind clouded with all the things he could do to that imp Hi’Wor. To hear him scream, to hear his father weep. After all, it was Wor’Boa who put the Lok’Sha in their state of meander and isolation in the first place.

Through the tent’s veil the two entered. Hi’Wor was in the midst of some contest of strength; the challenger looked to be on the wrong end of the test. Lok’Sha who seemed larger than Ja’Kul and Za’Kul combined stood around and on guard. Some eyes fell upon the duo, both of whom sat quiet while the match progressed. The bout was not what caught Za’Kul’s attention, it was the other dark skins.

He could only wonder what type of humiliation these dark skinned Lok’Sha went through. Even though Za’Kul and his tribe were dark skins, they were subject nigh-exclusively to the deepest tunnels and so the ridicule they faced was minimal, near metaphorical. It was when on these occasions he was reminded of the prejudice against his ilk. It was here the disdain for darskins and Lowborns was put before his eyes and made palpable. Among those fearful eyes, Za’Kul saw opportunity. Hope. Revolution. . . Later.

These Wor darkskins would have to suffer their humiliation in quiet for a time longer. For now, he had business to handle.

”Speak for your father, not fight for him.”

Right. Ju’Kul was always right.
The Rise of Kul

Smor’Gen’Blok


Hi’Wor. Great. Za’Kul had reservations about the meeting as a whole to begin with, and now he and Ju’Kul were forced to meet with War’Boa’s petulant son. A spoiled brat. An idiot, in Za’Kul’s firmest opinion. Hi’Wor likely thought the same of Za’Kul. The real difference between Za’Kul and Hi’Wor was Hi’Wor possessed every negative trait Za’Kul did and each was pushed to its worst extreme.

To say Hi’Wor was outright evil was unfair. He was a typical Lok’Sha without the necessary aegis to be chieftain apart from his father’s approval--which, in most tribes, all one needed was the backing of the chief--and all the penchant for precise violence necessary to make people fear you; but nothing to make them love you. Za’Kul didn’t bother speaking, though he was the chieftan’s son, he held no considerable stature among any of the men and women here.

All the same, he wasn’t sure how much of Hi’Wor’s smug he could take before he put hands on Hi’Wor. He would have to wait and see. If anything did happen--such as him losing his temper--he had come prepared, and filled with enough constrained rage to unleash on Wor’Boa’s idiot seed.
The Rise of Kul

Smor'Gen'Blok


Za’Kul stopped in his tracks. Slaves! No, never. Before there was mistrust, seeded hatred. It was becoming anger; it burned in the depths of his stomach,

“Slaves? No! Cannot!” then he realized how close they were to the Wor holdings and his rage involuntarily died. It knew. He knew he couldn’t cause a scene; the fact the High Wor even considered negotiation was a miracle itself; it was unbecoming of him to ruin their lone chance at reasoning with them. He had to bite his tongue and bide his time.

All that pride he had would be swallowed; his father climbed the ranks of his pitiful tribe through cunning; Za’Kul would have to at least mimic some of that if he wanted to assure Ju’Kul and himself made it out alive. To do something stupid which got one’s tribes fellow killed was an offense punishable by death. He kept behind Ju’Kul so that the elder could handle much of the talking, he was in no mood or mind to do so himself.

He just hoped the Ju’Kul had some sort of plan.
The Rise of Kul

Smor'Gen'Blok
“Worse? Can be no worse. What demand Wor make?” Za’Kul couldn’t imagine what else the High Wor required of his meager people. They had already ‘given’ the Wor everything. Many of the Kul worked for the Wor: mining, forging, picking. Could they be demanding all of the scraps of tunnel the Kul had to themselves? A sacrifice for a ritual? It made no sense.

“Nothing for Kul to give!” a growl muddled alongside a shout carried Za’Kul’s incensed declaration against the walls and through the maw of the cave he and Ju’Kul walked down. A horde of guards stood guarding its exit; two of which he knew: Da’Kul and Sa’do’Kul. One, Da’Kul was younger than his company--around Za’Kul’s age in fact. He was quiet for a Lok’Sha, and Za’Kul had only heard whispers of the node ritual he underwent, the sacrifice it required.

To feel pain for Lok’Sha was a given, but to desire to feel more than one already would during his potential century of existence was something Za’Kul could not fathom. More, he was not brave enough to do the same for himself--or so he thought.
The Rise of Kul

Smor'Gen'Blok

Za’Kul trained his visage along the path of the running woman who scorned Ju’Kul. Ever defensive, he had mind to rectify her sin then and there. Then again, even in Lok’Sha culture, unprovoked violence against women was frowned upon to a degree.

“Dumb,” was the sum of his opinion on the trespasser. Za’Kul continued to follow behind Ju’Kul with steady pace,

“Wor,” contempt flared with mention of the name, “what business with them? Thought we stop long time ago?” Za’Kul had no love for any of the High or Great tribes of Smor’Gen’Blok. The High Wor received the focus of his repulse because they were the ones who prevented the Low Kul from entering and exiting and buying and selling as was necessary for his people to advance in social strata.

Wor’Boa was among the most vicious and cunning chiefs there were, more than some of the chiefs of the Great tribes. Far as Za’Kul was concerned, the leaders of the Great tribes were so because of inheritance and because they were among the oldest tribes of Smor’Gen’Blok. They were still to be respected--nay, they had to be respected for their sheer number alone. With a single warcry, entire tribes could be erased from existence should the Great Warchiefs desire.

And so Za’Kul would feign respect best as he could. Less was Za’Kul’s forced reverence for the High chieftans, though they too were more accomplished--and much as it pained him to concede--better and more fit for their station than Za’Kul was at present. Perhaps today that would change, perhaps today he could show the Wor and the Low Kul that he was not just “ant”--that he belonged among the big boys.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet