The Old Soldier
Posted: Thu Jan 12, 2006 1:40 pm
The Old Soldier turned his sightless eyes to catch the remaining warmth of the setting sun. His skin was like cracked leather from a lifetime spent in the cauldron of the Burning Desert, his face and arms criss crossed with scars mapping his countless battles in the defense of Fyros and the Kami way of life.
Reaching into his cup he counted the dappers his day outside the temple had provided him with. Ruffling the fur of the Scowling Gingo by his side, he stood and set off purposefully in search of a drink. Born and raised in the open expanses of the desert around Thesos, the Old Soldier had a deep dislike of cities, especially foreign ones. He pondered how most hominins believed that with the loss of sight, one's other senses like smell and hearing improved. Being blind for the last ten cycles, meant he knew this to be false. Being blind meant you just paid more attention to what they were telling you (but then again what was the option?).
And what they were telling him as he walked down the rapidly cooling alleys, was that cities were noisy and foul smelling places. Thousands of homins living on top of each other meant there was a constant clamour echoing off the walls and roads, and tons of waste produced daily. Given how hot the day had been, not for the first time the Old Soldier wondered if it wouldn't have been better to lose his sense of smell as well.
New to the city, and having no particular destination in mind, he wandered the warren of streets letting his other senses guide him. An observer watching his confident stride might have disbelieved his blindness, there was however no questioning the milky orbs in his face. A more careful observer would however note the way the old soldier walked tilting his head to listen to activities around him. His pausing at cross roads as he felt and smelt the changes in the wind. It was the end of the day so the Old Soldier knew he wouldn't be the only one looking to cool his parched throat. So all he had to do was use his nose to follow the trail of sweat and dirt from the harvesters and his ears to follow bragging of the warriors, all of whom would be looking for a cool dark establishment to drink away their troubles.
It never occurred to the Old Soldier to ask anyone for directions, but even if it had this would have been problematic, as passerbys were generally unwilling to stop for, while old, such a formidible looking warrior, especially as the 110 pound Gingo always at his side tended to look at them with longing that most found very disconcerting.
Finally as he walked down a narrow alley a door opened to his left and a group young men stepped out reaking of strong liquor and lost in drunken camaraderie. Accidentally backing into the Old Soldier, one the youths was about to accost him for not looking where he was going, when a growl so deep and primordial drew all their attention downwards to the Gingo staring at them from his master's side. Instantly sober and apologetic the young men hurriedly backed away ten paces or so before all turning to flee.
The Old Soldier reached down and patted his canine friend on the head, then turned and entered the open doorway and made his way to the bar.
After ordering and receiving his tankard of Ale, the Old Soldier noticed how quiet it was in the bar, and had the sudden urge to converse with someone.
"Hey Bar Keep, how would you like to hear a really good Matis Joke?" Unbelievably the Bar room appeared to get even quieter, and chillier.
Then a deep voice on his left rumbled.
"Old man, as you're blind I'll cut you a bit of slack, but before you tell your joke, there's 5 things you should know.
One The bar keep is Matis
Two The Bouncer at the door is a Matis Knifeman
Three The young man on your left is Matis and an Avatar of Destruction
Four The young Lady with him is Matis and an Avatar of Sorrow
Five I'm Matis and a Master Axeman
so now that you know those five things, I ask you, do you still want to tell your joke?"
The Old Soldier took a slow draught of his ale before carefully returning the tankard to the counter. Slowly shaking his head he turned to the voice and replied.
"Nah, not if I'm going to have to explain it five times."
Reaching into his cup he counted the dappers his day outside the temple had provided him with. Ruffling the fur of the Scowling Gingo by his side, he stood and set off purposefully in search of a drink. Born and raised in the open expanses of the desert around Thesos, the Old Soldier had a deep dislike of cities, especially foreign ones. He pondered how most hominins believed that with the loss of sight, one's other senses like smell and hearing improved. Being blind for the last ten cycles, meant he knew this to be false. Being blind meant you just paid more attention to what they were telling you (but then again what was the option?).
And what they were telling him as he walked down the rapidly cooling alleys, was that cities were noisy and foul smelling places. Thousands of homins living on top of each other meant there was a constant clamour echoing off the walls and roads, and tons of waste produced daily. Given how hot the day had been, not for the first time the Old Soldier wondered if it wouldn't have been better to lose his sense of smell as well.
New to the city, and having no particular destination in mind, he wandered the warren of streets letting his other senses guide him. An observer watching his confident stride might have disbelieved his blindness, there was however no questioning the milky orbs in his face. A more careful observer would however note the way the old soldier walked tilting his head to listen to activities around him. His pausing at cross roads as he felt and smelt the changes in the wind. It was the end of the day so the Old Soldier knew he wouldn't be the only one looking to cool his parched throat. So all he had to do was use his nose to follow the trail of sweat and dirt from the harvesters and his ears to follow bragging of the warriors, all of whom would be looking for a cool dark establishment to drink away their troubles.
It never occurred to the Old Soldier to ask anyone for directions, but even if it had this would have been problematic, as passerbys were generally unwilling to stop for, while old, such a formidible looking warrior, especially as the 110 pound Gingo always at his side tended to look at them with longing that most found very disconcerting.
Finally as he walked down a narrow alley a door opened to his left and a group young men stepped out reaking of strong liquor and lost in drunken camaraderie. Accidentally backing into the Old Soldier, one the youths was about to accost him for not looking where he was going, when a growl so deep and primordial drew all their attention downwards to the Gingo staring at them from his master's side. Instantly sober and apologetic the young men hurriedly backed away ten paces or so before all turning to flee.
The Old Soldier reached down and patted his canine friend on the head, then turned and entered the open doorway and made his way to the bar.
After ordering and receiving his tankard of Ale, the Old Soldier noticed how quiet it was in the bar, and had the sudden urge to converse with someone.
"Hey Bar Keep, how would you like to hear a really good Matis Joke?" Unbelievably the Bar room appeared to get even quieter, and chillier.
Then a deep voice on his left rumbled.
"Old man, as you're blind I'll cut you a bit of slack, but before you tell your joke, there's 5 things you should know.
One The bar keep is Matis
Two The Bouncer at the door is a Matis Knifeman
Three The young man on your left is Matis and an Avatar of Destruction
Four The young Lady with him is Matis and an Avatar of Sorrow
Five I'm Matis and a Master Axeman
so now that you know those five things, I ask you, do you still want to tell your joke?"
The Old Soldier took a slow draught of his ale before carefully returning the tankard to the counter. Slowly shaking his head he turned to the voice and replied.
"Nah, not if I'm going to have to explain it five times."
