[B] Big Mamo Tribe, Mobile Alabama[/b]


Music blared across the camp loudly as all the tribe members sang along while they went their daily routines. They chanted it almost cult like. “The devil is a lie, bitch I'm the truth, the devil is a lie, bitch I'm the proof.” On one end of the camp chefs prepared the meat they had gained hunting, raiding. Skins were peeled back as venison from deer was throw over poles in small strips to be smoked and turned into jerky for the warriors to eat when they ventured out. The scent of a sweet pork wafted through the air so delicious it would make any mouth water until the person saw the human limbs and torsos cooking over a fire pit.


In the middle of the village that used to be Mobile was a pick up truck, a larger tattooed Samoan man covered from toe to head in swirling tattoos sat upon its tail gate holding what used to be a human femur now covered in nails and tribal designs. Behind him his four wives dips their hands into a pot of oil rendered from human fat and gently massaged it into his skin making him glisten in the sun. Big Mamo as the tribe called him ran the lands for miles around, and with his success at continuing to take more territory Ashwanni was the only man he answered to anymore.


It was then that two young African boys ran up one of them holding a shotgun, the other holding a bow. “Big Mamo were be somtin happnen wit dem neo confed folks. We not too sure, but it seem sometin be comin dis way.. This caused a pause in the chanting around big Mamo his guards looking to the lesser chief to see what he would do. 


With a grunt Big Mamo stood up causing the shocks to groan with the relief of Mamo’s massive weight. “Well guess we gone hafta go meets wit dem neo folks see what dry be bouts.” He turned climbing into the bed of the truck literally shoving his wives out onto the cracked asphalt. “Boys we goin ride for dah border to meet dem neo folks…”


It was then men seemed to come out of the wood work with a variety of weapons at hand as they followed behind the old 81 Chevy as it started to take up a slow pace towards the east, towards Florida.


[B]Badyoyo Tribes, Northern Territory Mississippi River, Rival Tribe Raid.[/b]


A humid night like any other in the swamp lands, except tonight would be full of violence and cruelty. The glassy eyes of alligators surfaced in the water near Kafamo village. Beneath these eyes were the shaved bare heads of men as they watched the unsuspecting villagers, sing and dance. Slowly they rose from the water thirty of them in total, they carried a myriad of weapons, some blunt, some bladed.


With bare feet and naked bodies they crawled ashore and quickly dispatched any guards by jamming blades in their throats and sending blood spraying across the mud. It was then they began to scream loudly whooping and hollaring as they ran between the huts and tackling men, beating them and stabbing them. While the women were captured and tied with ropes they wore around their bare waists. Anyone who resisted was shown no mercy, man, woman, and even children were killed without remorse. By the end only bodies littered the streets as the survivors were drug off to Baton Rouge to become slaves or meat. As the raiding band marched away they could be heard chanting. “I could be your pain killer killer killer.”