RPG: Jiñaa
Now it's setting 3!
Jiñaa
Play these bothly.
Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. The weather, the air, is the rain; there is never no rain. The world is where the ghosts leave, to scream elsewhere. That which is to be eaten is the jungle. The life is a river running across the entire land. The power is in the hands of the servants and the leeches. And the sun is the king of shamans. Ay ya~. What the crow sees from the sky? Green-blue rolling chop of leaves smothering the earth to the edge of the world. She would see the whole shape of the mountains and their texture. What the shrike sees from the bush? The smallness of insects, and so their massiveness. The depth of leaf litter, the blackness of caves. Only the shaman king can talk to the shrike and the crow at the same time. No one has ever seen or heard of him. But we have met his servants.
Servants reflect the sky-sized kindness of the shaman king. Servants stay with us and make us better than trees and rivers. They let us act by acting for us. For our sake, for their kindness, servants will grow our plants, lift what we can't, bring vines to life, move the flow of water, flash with fire, guide and sharpen our weapons, bring light, luck, knowledge, will bring us the words we seek, rudder our boats, grow love within us, protect us, attack our enemies... And they feed us the treacle of the gods. Show us the true, golden world we cannot see. Let us wield a little of the power it runs with. Let us wield the sun, the stars, the power of a treetrunk snapping, the ordering chaos of a gale, the fertility of a river. They let us give life to the jungle, create our own servants from rock and wood and water, even create armour that makes us tall as trees and strong as storms. Servants are too sacred to be seen or heard by mortal senses.
The leeches also want the treacle as well. They try to cut our tendons and drag us into the mud and steal our bodies, our spirits and our possessions and vomit evil on us. They will draw our enemies towards us, make their arrows and blades hit home. They will make us shout and fall and hit ourselves and bite our tongues. They will make us insult our friends, shun our family, break our homes, spoil our crops. They will make our knives blunt, our aim false, our eyes dull, our bellies sick, our thoughts stupid. And when they have us weak and struggling, they steal the treacle the servants give us. They eat it and catch a black fire. They make us roar and trample and rip and tear and kill. They make us flare with the power of an evil storm, and burn villages and block rivers, make crops into poison, make the animals of the jungle hunt us, make us blast with lightning. They make us whither and cough and die and rot from the inside out.
To live is to struggle and twist and flex in the contortions as you try to slide free of the leeches without being lost by the servants. The servants feed on the leeches and the leeches suck from the servants, and we, we are in between. But some are not content, being in between. Sometimes some try to kill the leeches, or make the servants into slaves. Sometimes they succeed for a while. But then the servants are taken by the leeches, or they go insane and swallow the leeches. Leechservants are born. Black sparks and oily leakage fall from them and set unseen fires. They grow and become nightly, and disease suppurates over their skin. Their desires become twisted knots and their goodness becomes fuel for their evil ways. They try to destroy or control everything they see. Except each other. They are their only friends. They form armies. They roll across the land, growing stronger as they eat. Many tribes have been killed and eaten by them. They have become, and grown, terrible monsters.
The time is dark; the gloaming is thick. Our history is in its evening. The welcoming reed mat has been ripped apart and set on fire. The well-ordered nest of ants has been flooded by a bloody river. Now wrongness and torment have taken hold and bred and spread, like flourmold eats an abandoned foodstore, makes all of the good grains and meat into white webs of poison. You understand? It's bad. We struggle to find space where we can live away from the forces of the broken, from the leechservants and their monstrous selves. We try to find a few more months, where we can.
They are coming for us. Hunting us. They think only of our extermination. They seethe and shout and jabber with rancour. They have taken home after home, territory after territory. And they are coming, again, as they drive us towards the mountains, the walls of rock we cannot pass, and they will kill us.
They grow stronger. In the hot, steamy summer they sent a weapon towards us, a killing force. It would have destroyed the land, and all of us. But our bravest warriors went, and stopped it, trapped it. They died. The armies of the unbalanced surged past, and drove us out anyway. We are desperate. We will be taken soon. That is why you must succeed. That is why you must travel far into the territory they have taken. Find their weapon, and free it, to wreck the land the armies have taken, and evaporate them, flood them away. Then maybe, perhaps, we might have a few more months, and maybe that will be enough. Maybe we can still find out how to bring balance again. Or even decide whether the screaming ghosts are preferable company to our rage-burning enemies.
Go with these, our last warriors, the last of us with power. You have shown some potential, too. You have servants loyal to you. The leeches you carry have not killed you. You may be of some aid. You may well die, but you may be the raindrop that topples the tree. You may be needed. You may save us. We know you. You are...
Name:
Description:
Vision: [The servants granted you a vision. Or perhaps it was the leeches. It was confusing, but it hinted at something. What was the dream?]
Servants: [What servants are following you? What can they do? What are they like?]
Leeches: [What leeches cling to you? What evil and misfortune do they bring?]
NB: When it comes to servants and leeches, describe how they 'normally' behave. They may do supernatural things, but in a relatively minor way; otherwise, they're more about guiding events in their certain ways. By playing well and receiving treacle, you will have the chance to temporarily greaten the powers of the servants and let them do new and more impressive things. However if you're unlucky, the treacle will be eaten by the leeches and *their* power will be temporarily increased. More treacle = greater reward, but greater risk.
Here's a page with various information on indigenous South American tribes.
Sample characters...
Name: Aifa
Description: A grown man, with large bold eyes, strong arms, a broad chest and back, and a thick, solid belly. His hair is fine, but long. He has the marks of initation on his torso and arms. He has also branded a red twist down his right forearm. He speaks slowly and carefully. He pants heavily and sweats in battle.
Vision: "Under a vast roof, torches glowed. Enemies mingled in a trance. Birdcry deafened. The sun broke the walls. There was a boiling flood. My arm was bleeding. I was alive."
Servants: Ana glowers but is patient. He helps me to lift and carry, but not weapons. Gail guides the strikes of my weapons, but not tools, and dislikes sharp weapons. Hua sucks poison from my veins. Jihh helps me find the path when it's dark and I'm tired, and sometimes in the day. Laak helps me understand why plants and trees look how they do, say, if they are sick or if there is a rich stream beneath them. Opo helps me to make clothing, but even with his help, I'm not good at it.
Leeches: Oroklojoto makes me very, very sad if I am on my own, and makes me angrier and angrier as I search for them. Janlanahuit makes me collapse if I get too tired, and makes enemies come to where I am collapsed.
Name: Tacana
Description: A leopard-man. Short, stocky limbs, thick black fur. Wears a stripped-down water-buffalo skull over his face. Arms wrapped heavily in vines.
Vision: "Darkness and blood. Monkeys shriek. Tearing gristle with teeth. The corpse erupts with treacle. The ground balloons and explodes with lava. Fiery godhand."
Servants: Ouil sets fires. Tren shields and deflects. Juug finds food if I'm starving. Frey listens.
Leeches: Nebcotliyu awakens indiscriminate bloodlust. Bhujkilyawera makes me throw away good food. Gegelepeteca deafens me with loud noises.
Jiñaa
Click to viewPlay these bothly.
Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. The weather, the air, is the rain; there is never no rain. The world is where the ghosts leave, to scream elsewhere. That which is to be eaten is the jungle. The life is a river running across the entire land. The power is in the hands of the servants and the leeches. And the sun is the king of shamans. Ay ya~. What the crow sees from the sky? Green-blue rolling chop of leaves smothering the earth to the edge of the world. She would see the whole shape of the mountains and their texture. What the shrike sees from the bush? The smallness of insects, and so their massiveness. The depth of leaf litter, the blackness of caves. Only the shaman king can talk to the shrike and the crow at the same time. No one has ever seen or heard of him. But we have met his servants.
Servants reflect the sky-sized kindness of the shaman king. Servants stay with us and make us better than trees and rivers. They let us act by acting for us. For our sake, for their kindness, servants will grow our plants, lift what we can't, bring vines to life, move the flow of water, flash with fire, guide and sharpen our weapons, bring light, luck, knowledge, will bring us the words we seek, rudder our boats, grow love within us, protect us, attack our enemies... And they feed us the treacle of the gods. Show us the true, golden world we cannot see. Let us wield a little of the power it runs with. Let us wield the sun, the stars, the power of a treetrunk snapping, the ordering chaos of a gale, the fertility of a river. They let us give life to the jungle, create our own servants from rock and wood and water, even create armour that makes us tall as trees and strong as storms. Servants are too sacred to be seen or heard by mortal senses.
The leeches also want the treacle as well. They try to cut our tendons and drag us into the mud and steal our bodies, our spirits and our possessions and vomit evil on us. They will draw our enemies towards us, make their arrows and blades hit home. They will make us shout and fall and hit ourselves and bite our tongues. They will make us insult our friends, shun our family, break our homes, spoil our crops. They will make our knives blunt, our aim false, our eyes dull, our bellies sick, our thoughts stupid. And when they have us weak and struggling, they steal the treacle the servants give us. They eat it and catch a black fire. They make us roar and trample and rip and tear and kill. They make us flare with the power of an evil storm, and burn villages and block rivers, make crops into poison, make the animals of the jungle hunt us, make us blast with lightning. They make us whither and cough and die and rot from the inside out.
To live is to struggle and twist and flex in the contortions as you try to slide free of the leeches without being lost by the servants. The servants feed on the leeches and the leeches suck from the servants, and we, we are in between. But some are not content, being in between. Sometimes some try to kill the leeches, or make the servants into slaves. Sometimes they succeed for a while. But then the servants are taken by the leeches, or they go insane and swallow the leeches. Leechservants are born. Black sparks and oily leakage fall from them and set unseen fires. They grow and become nightly, and disease suppurates over their skin. Their desires become twisted knots and their goodness becomes fuel for their evil ways. They try to destroy or control everything they see. Except each other. They are their only friends. They form armies. They roll across the land, growing stronger as they eat. Many tribes have been killed and eaten by them. They have become, and grown, terrible monsters.
The time is dark; the gloaming is thick. Our history is in its evening. The welcoming reed mat has been ripped apart and set on fire. The well-ordered nest of ants has been flooded by a bloody river. Now wrongness and torment have taken hold and bred and spread, like flourmold eats an abandoned foodstore, makes all of the good grains and meat into white webs of poison. You understand? It's bad. We struggle to find space where we can live away from the forces of the broken, from the leechservants and their monstrous selves. We try to find a few more months, where we can.
They are coming for us. Hunting us. They think only of our extermination. They seethe and shout and jabber with rancour. They have taken home after home, territory after territory. And they are coming, again, as they drive us towards the mountains, the walls of rock we cannot pass, and they will kill us.
They grow stronger. In the hot, steamy summer they sent a weapon towards us, a killing force. It would have destroyed the land, and all of us. But our bravest warriors went, and stopped it, trapped it. They died. The armies of the unbalanced surged past, and drove us out anyway. We are desperate. We will be taken soon. That is why you must succeed. That is why you must travel far into the territory they have taken. Find their weapon, and free it, to wreck the land the armies have taken, and evaporate them, flood them away. Then maybe, perhaps, we might have a few more months, and maybe that will be enough. Maybe we can still find out how to bring balance again. Or even decide whether the screaming ghosts are preferable company to our rage-burning enemies.
Go with these, our last warriors, the last of us with power. You have shown some potential, too. You have servants loyal to you. The leeches you carry have not killed you. You may be of some aid. You may well die, but you may be the raindrop that topples the tree. You may be needed. You may save us. We know you. You are...
Name:
Description:
Vision: [The servants granted you a vision. Or perhaps it was the leeches. It was confusing, but it hinted at something. What was the dream?]
Servants: [What servants are following you? What can they do? What are they like?]
Leeches: [What leeches cling to you? What evil and misfortune do they bring?]
NB: When it comes to servants and leeches, describe how they 'normally' behave. They may do supernatural things, but in a relatively minor way; otherwise, they're more about guiding events in their certain ways. By playing well and receiving treacle, you will have the chance to temporarily greaten the powers of the servants and let them do new and more impressive things. However if you're unlucky, the treacle will be eaten by the leeches and *their* power will be temporarily increased. More treacle = greater reward, but greater risk.
Here's a page with various information on indigenous South American tribes.
Sample characters...
Name: Aifa
Description: A grown man, with large bold eyes, strong arms, a broad chest and back, and a thick, solid belly. His hair is fine, but long. He has the marks of initation on his torso and arms. He has also branded a red twist down his right forearm. He speaks slowly and carefully. He pants heavily and sweats in battle.
Vision: "Under a vast roof, torches glowed. Enemies mingled in a trance. Birdcry deafened. The sun broke the walls. There was a boiling flood. My arm was bleeding. I was alive."
Servants: Ana glowers but is patient. He helps me to lift and carry, but not weapons. Gail guides the strikes of my weapons, but not tools, and dislikes sharp weapons. Hua sucks poison from my veins. Jihh helps me find the path when it's dark and I'm tired, and sometimes in the day. Laak helps me understand why plants and trees look how they do, say, if they are sick or if there is a rich stream beneath them. Opo helps me to make clothing, but even with his help, I'm not good at it.
Leeches: Oroklojoto makes me very, very sad if I am on my own, and makes me angrier and angrier as I search for them. Janlanahuit makes me collapse if I get too tired, and makes enemies come to where I am collapsed.
Name: Tacana
Description: A leopard-man. Short, stocky limbs, thick black fur. Wears a stripped-down water-buffalo skull over his face. Arms wrapped heavily in vines.
Vision: "Darkness and blood. Monkeys shriek. Tearing gristle with teeth. The corpse erupts with treacle. The ground balloons and explodes with lava. Fiery godhand."
Servants: Ouil sets fires. Tren shields and deflects. Juug finds food if I'm starving. Frey listens.
Leeches: Nebcotliyu awakens indiscriminate bloodlust. Bhujkilyawera makes me throw away good food. Gegelepeteca deafens me with loud noises.