Brahma_Bull's forum posts

#1 Edited by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio

--Where the Brahma Bull walks, death follows. And where death follows, his fanatical cronies, those who have submitted their free will and sense of individuality to the Harbinger of Death walk and preach the most radical of evolutionary ideologies--

Temple Origins

Before the domineering baron of brutality known as the Brahma Bull, before the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse, there was only صفر, a monstrous Goliath with a penchant for conflict and ruthlessness fueled by a radical evolutionarily-founded ideology unlike any other before it. Not since the founding of the Arcani has the Brahma Bull identified himself as the mythical progenitor of the Strigidae. And it was in the uncharted landscapes of the Amazon Rainforest that Strigidae Zero was rediscovered, his unyielding path of destruction to set on a taciturn settlement in the still night.

There was no concept of mercy as his followers emerged. The violence that his former cronies once employed as tools of terror paled in comparison to the carnage the Cult of صفر unleashed upon the defenseless camp. They ripped out the throats of their victims with their teeth, and gorged on their steaming blood with hungry, bestial snarls. He laughed murderously as they plucked out the eyes of the terrified, wailing victims, their tortured cries lasting long into the night. No life remained in the settlement as the hulking revolutionary strode into the dark, he and his followers drenched in blood and lit by the lurid glow of the encompassing conflagration. Where he walked, death would follow.

His taste for blood and domination to be sated only once he has wiped the plague of the foul hominid, the genetic degenerates, and the weaklings of the mutant race from the face of the Earth. Until his ideological vision is realized, chaos would be wreaked upon the existence of both man and mutant. He would wipe away all in his path in a red mist, a rolling crimson fog that would erase everyone and everything in his path as he strode along in front of it, a menacing giant that would laugh heartily at the screams and cries of the doomed. And it would be from this mist that his kingdom would be erect.

A perfection reflection of the Militant Monster. His would be a frightening kingdom of slag and burning skies, and gelid air. A desecrated, decaying place washed in blood and smeared with excrement. His undead thralls, the raised corpses of victims and his followers alike would roam freely, counted as servants of the Brahma Bull. He will continue to be a force of strife and misery until his ideal world meets creation. His world would begin with the Temple of صفر. The Temple of Strigidae Zero.

The Cult

--Ready to intercept the ignorant wanderer and curious journeyman are the Brahma Bull's cronies. A collection of paramilitary mutant radicals undead and living, wielding the destructive tools of modern weaponry stride all about the dense greenery of the Amazon rainforest in perpetual observation of their surroundings.

Fanatical scholars and ideological slaves religiously worship and revere the self-proclaimed Gangster of Guerrilla Warfare, their unblinking eyes feverishly studying every weathered page detailing the militant Goliath's past as the ceaselessly elusive Strigidae Zero while the more nefarious and perverted of his followers reside deeper within the eternal pit that is the Brahma Bull's temple.

Their hearts pound in their chests as their sweat runs cold down their back. The light they see is too bright, too vivid. Smells they have never noticed before have suddenly grown overpowering, and the faintest of sounds are deafening. There is fear. Followed by disorientation and torturous pain as their bones lengthen and their bodies contort and finally the urge to kill in the all-consuming lust for blood.

They isolate themselves in the temple's darkest corners, the air burning their lungs, their claws are razors, their teeth? Daggers. Conscious thought fades as they become his now. His hounds. His commands burn within their minds as they wail their despair at the blood red moon when it festoons the dark sky.

They will kill any who oppose their prophet. They are beasts, nightmare creatures of such savagery and dread, that only they were fit to spread the unrelenting violence of the Brahma Bull's ideology--


  1. No godmodding
  2. Anyone can post here but the temple's location is meant to be very difficult to discover. If you don't sell the difficulty in locating the temple and just appear out of thin air, I'll ignore your post.
  3. You can come here to do whatever. Attack it etc. but if you want to cause major destruction, PM my La_Espada account.
  4. Sell the security here. Most of them are mutants while a portion of them are bestial in nature. Don't show up and start whooping everybody's ass just cause you can because your powers make you all that. If you do, your post might as well not even exist on this thread.
  5. Have fun ;)
#2 Edited by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio

@peak: (Assign Santi a task of guarding an item or whatever during the attack ;P)

Satisfied with the palpable yet partial success of his transitionally fluid attacks, Santiago swiftly shifted his focus into a momentary defensive approach, drawing himself into a tighter, less exposed stance in anticipation of a counter from the hooded savant. Appropriately re-positioned, the Madrid Viper sought to wind his spear in a large circular motion, directing the sharpened spearhead towards the blade of his adversary's short-sword with the objective of using the momentum of the spear's circular swing to knock the sword from his opponent's grip. Yet he did not complete the maneuver. Instead he performed a quick retreating back-step, avoiding confrontation altogether, his attention now focused elsewhere.

Forsaking his stance, the Spaniard's eyes gazed upon the encompassing sea, it's stillness was unnerving, the ambient silence from nature unsettling, the abruptness of the aromatic shift heralded something. The Brahma Bull, the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse's ingress was at hand. There was a red mist that slowly but surely crept into the atmosphere, a rolling fog of vermilion terror, as red as blood, consuming all in it's path, and then, it emerges. A ship it seemed, identical in it's physical dimensions to the Voyager, but in it's center stood a murderous Goliath with crimson orbs for eyes. To his right, to his left, and to his back, his obedient followers, those belonging to his cult in reverence of himself, Strigidae Zero, stood in quiescence.

Their hearts pound in their chests as their sweat runs cold down their back. The light they see is too bright, too vivid. Smells they have never noticed before have suddenly grown overpowering, and the faintest of sounds are deafening. There is fear. Followed by disorientation and torturous pain as their bones lengthen and their bodies contort and finally the urge to kill in the all-consuming lust for blood. They approach the edges of the ship, the air burning their lungs, their claws are razors, their teeth? Daggers. Conscious thought fades as they become his now. His hounds. His commands burn within their minds as they howl their despair at the now blood red moon. They will kill tonight. As was in the nature of werewolves. They had become beasts, nightmare creatures of such savagery and dread, that only they could spread the indignation of the Brahma Bull's black flames.

#3 Posted by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio

@peak: After we finish the Espada-Peak spar, do you mind if BB attacks this ship? I wanna set something up ;)

#4 Posted by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio

@amphetamines: @dark_vengeance_:

The Jade Goliath was furious, his sky-shattering roar further deteriorating the Brahma Bull's disrupted sense of hearing, yet the Militant Monster, even standing before two adversaries, refused to fluster, and instead he relished. Predatory, vermilion eyes pulsated with palpable earnestness. Not one soul in the world would prevent, would stop him from realizing his vision, from bringing all societal norms, conventions and structures to their knees, and bowing them before his ideology of mutant supremacy. Amphetamines, Dark Vengeance, these were no opponents, they were victims. Sheep. And today the Lord was not their shepherd. The only deity guiding them to the slaughterhouse was Death. And in the form of Strigidae Zero, Death had come.

So it began, a bout to be remembered. With Amphetamines devoid of control and operating as a weapon of destruction, it mattered little to the Brahma Bull whether or not he would face defeat or surmount this handicap, for with the malachite monster beyond self-restraint, death would be spread, and more, more souls of the perished will be entrapped inside his wooden gourd, the souls of those who would serve as the slaves of his nation. He had not come to conquer, not for Philadelphia, not for Pennsylvania, not for the United States. The Brahma Bull was a collector of souls, this war served nothing more as an instrument, a tool, a means to an end, The souls of Philadelphia's fallen would be his to command, and once he frees Amaranth, gathers the Strigidae under him as he once did many years ago, and raises his army of the damned, then the world will know true conquest when he comes in the name of mutant brotherhood to dominate the globe.

Violently and with thunderous force, the soles of Amphetamines' feet collided against his masked features, the kinetic energy and monstrous power of the dropkick, blasting him across the battlefield. And as he rose, instinctively shaking his head in an attempt to alleviate the pain gripping his cranium, spheres of palpable darkness peppered his leviathan frame, heralding Dark Vengeance's emergent assault as the bat-themed vigilante commenced a barrage of graphic slashes, viciously tearing away at the flesh on the Gothic City Nightmare's back. With a torn ACL from Lady Liberty's earlier assault, as well as his disrupted balance, his movement was severely impaired, and thus, he could not appropriately punish his opponents from committing the mistake of engaging him within range where he slaughters and dismantles, there were no spinning elbows threatening to lacerate his adversary beyond facial recognition, no bullying clinch grappling, his injured ACL awarded no permission.

And so, the Gangster of Guerrilla Warfare made use of his most potent assault, hellfire. Black, supernatural flames of unrelenting heat radiated from his injured frame, expanding, growing, enveloping all that was around him, burning up the surrounding oxygen as temperatures rose, several thousands of degrees Celsius intent on enveloping both his opponents and reducing them to ash. Though this was a losing battle, and the Brahma Bull knew this, yet still he grinned. For no matter how many times the opposition believe themselves to be victorious, no matter how many times he disappears, he would always return, and could they deter him for all eternity? Or would they eventually crumble under the pressure of an unrelenting, undying monster?

#5 Edited by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio

Posted. I'll get to the other ones a bit later.

#6 Edited by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio

@amphetamines: @dark_vengeance_: @lady_liberty:

As the city burned and waned into concrete dust, infrastructure yielding to the fervor of his rampaging black flames, the Gothic City Nightmare's mind remained transfixed on his tactically apt adversary, the iconic Paragon of Patriotism, Lady Liberty. And yet, as the Earth trembled before his monstrous power and conceded in the face of Death's fires, the Avatar of Americanism had all but vanished. Nowhere to be found, but yet to perish. And he felt it, he did not taste her soul. She had retreated. Still afflicted with deafness, a partially torn ACL, and disrupted balance, the Militant Mammoth's condition was impaired, not at it's optimum, though he would stop at nothing, and nothing would stop him from mounting the world and forcing his ideology down it's throat.

And as he lamely rose to both feet, ebony flames wildly radiating from his leviathan frame, the Brahma Bull's vermilion eyes set on the darting malachite figure of Director Deadman. "So the American Government's hairless troll has come, heh.. you piece of trash", he growled with voiced derision. Bombarded by Amphetamines' gargantuan shoulder as it drove into his midsection, a loss of breath impacted the Brahma Bull, adjoined by the tackle's crushing pain. Reacting with instinctive ruthlessness, the Goliath of Gore commanded his merciless hellfire, instructing it to completely engulf his emerald adversary, accumulate, grow to otherworldly temperatures foreign to the world of man and burn the flesh of even the Jade Mammoth's bones. Conjuring the elephantine Pale Horse of Death and directing it to ram into his adversary with the force to plow through mountains, intent on blasting Amphetamines across the battlefield, the Brahma Bull nimbly repositioned himself.

Though having escaped an intended pugilistic onslaught from the S.H.I.E.L.D. director, the self-proclaimed Gangster of Guerrilla Warfare soon found himself antagonized by a consuming cluster of supernaturally aggrandized bats. Each flying rodent viciously gnawing away at his skin, tearing off flesh, and rousing the Brahma Bull's indignation. "RAGH!", a roar with the bass to shatter the sky and the land heralded his reaction. Violently swinging his right arm, his machete materializing in the grip of his hand, it's ebony blade tearing open a gate to the depths of Hell, threatening to swallow not only the bats, but the arriving Dark Vengeance as well. "You scum..", addressing both his indomitable adversaries, "After I sever your heads, I will cut both your faces off and wear them as my new mask".

And as the cluster of bats waned, torn bits of the fabric on the lower back of his iconic mask left a subtle tear, partially unveiling the Militant Monster's legendary birthmark, صفر, the Arabic etymology for 'sifr', zero. The mark of he who inspired many with unmitigated brutality, with the most radical of ideologies, with the reputation of a monster who destroys all who do not accept his vision. The mark of the unofficial first. The mark of 'Strigidae Zero'. "RISE!". And so they did, corpses of fallen civilians and his cronies alike were raised from the dead, an army of decomposed, soulless minions, all given one common object, to swarm and lay waste to both heroes who dared defy him, who dared reject his vision.

#7 Posted by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio

Posted :)

#8 Edited by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio


Following the fruits of his fulminant, incipient assault, the Baron of Brutality combated the immediate instinct to viciously maul his patriotic target, remaining conscious of his ceaselessly agonizing ACL tear, the Brahma Bull opted for a course action governed by a tame, calculating approach. So as to optimize his otherworldly regenerative abilities and remain an enduring fixture in the endeavored bout, he would rely on that which would not aggravate his injury. His fear-inducing illusions to psychologically disarm the Paragon of Patriotism, his searing hellfire to burn the flesh from her bones, and his myriad of other supernaturally acquired abilities. "Heh, red and blue backed by smoke and mirrors".

His taunt, deriding what he perceives as the United States' imperialist agenda represented under the false pretense of patriotism. Lady Liberty's response? A sky-shattering scream that aromatically tore through their encompassment, bringing down the surrounding infrastructure, internally ravaging his cronies' partially decomposed tissue, topographically rearranging the battlefield, and bringing the Fourth Horsemen to his knees. His machete's bloodstained, ebony blade plunged into the concrete pavement as his eardrums were viciously ruptured, yielding to the force of the seasoned crime-fighter's scream, their deafening vibrations robbing the Brahma Bull of both his sense of hearing and physical equilibrium. And for that moment, he felt 'rocked', as if cracked by an overhand right from God Himself. He could hear nothing, for now, until his regeneration offers due recuperation, his surviving followers' tactical input was of no use to one who could not hear.

And as he lamely rose to his feet, his balance betrayed him. A stumble backwards as he struggled to walk, his superficially sustained wounds having little effect on him, the internal discombobulation of his ears being the true source of impairment. And as his indignant eyes searched for the Paragon of Patriotism and found nothing, again he taunted, he could not hear, but his voice would roar, a voice that bruises egos, psychologically dismantles, and aggressively antagonizes American patriotism. "You scum. You fight for a country with a checkered history of supporting puppet dictators in geopolitically important countries and covert operations, the assassinations, the coups, supplying and creating the rebel and terrorist forces this land of demons claims to despise. Sponsoring bombs dropped on your children. Supporting Israel's bombardment of high-rise apartment buildings during the invasion of Lebanon, inspiring the destruction of your Twin Towers", he continued, "Dress yourself in stripes and stars and rock 'Liberty' as your name but you are a false idol. You are no hero!".

He could not see her, but he would hope that his words would draw her out, would rouse her anger, plunge her into a rage that would recklessly guide her into a physical brawl. And if not? De-materializing his machete, the Gothic City Nightmare violently slammed his fists into the ground, fingers digging, plowing into them as his titanic arms ebulliently jerked from side to side, leviathan seismic vibrations reverberating throughout, collapsing the neighboring infrastructure, segmenting the very ground, tearing it apart as miniature earthquakes raged all about, seeking to vehemently ragdoll his adversary. And from his gargantuan frame, black flames radiated, flailing outwards as they spread all across, engulfing their environment with scorching hellfire, intent on burning his strategically concealed adversary into ash, or draw her out. With a torn ACL, partially rocked state and forsaken sense of balance, he for now, would do battle at a distance, but in order to do so, he would need sight of the American Icon.

#9 Posted by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio

@antonia: BB's boys? They're all mutants but for the most part just gifted with peak human stats and various superhuman senses. As for weaponry, almost all of what's in BB's bio except for his supernatural machete and his really lethal chemical agents.

#10 Posted by Brahma_Bull (247 posts) - - Show Bio

@antonia: That reminds me, I have to go work on my reply.