01-13-2020, 02:36 AM
He nodded his head to all those who appeared, listening to their tales with a vested interest, trying to glean all he could from each. But first, an introduction, as he had not yet met these people: "Howdy. You can call me Revolver, or Shalashaska - 'm new around, but I figured I'd hold a little get together, just to get to know some people a bit better." The smile on his face was genuine enough, but the look in his steely eyes was a little too genial - though whether this was because he was freakishly nice or just pretending to be so would be up to who he was talking to.
Greed was up first. His was about a fight he had once, which told him many things - that he valued his combat prowess, for one, which was absolutely excellent. That he had experience with the strange, which was good for any soldier. That he had problems with his family, and that he didn't fight girls, both of which weren't good traits, but would be useful regardless. "A fine tale, there - though I'd hope you've learned your lesson. If someone goes picking a fight, you oughta give it to 'em." He said it nicely enough, not a hint of any misplaced aggression in his voice - just a comment on his attitude. After a moment, he added, "Sorry 'bout the rest, though. Especially family - those can be rough. Glad that you've found a place here, though." His eyes glanced from Greed to Roxanne, the second person to join his little hoedown.
"'s not the content of the story, but the way it's told," he said, by way of platitude. That much wasn't a lie (it would be a bit silly to lie about something that small), so he found it easy to work in, as a little endearing belief of his. Roxanne's story told him mainly about how she valued her family above all else - and on top of that, he got an entertaining little tale about a birthday present. That was enough Intel for him, at least - this was an exercise in finding out what people thought of first when asked to tell a story. "A whole whale shark, huh? Damn, now I bet that'd be a sight."
The last was Roan, who - well. He was just a kid. It was hard for him to keep up the mindset of an analytical commander, picking apart those he met to figure out their strengths and weaknesses, when the small one was happily spouting Gaelic and talking about a turtle he found once. Poor kid - Adam could only hope he grew up strong in this world. "And a mighty fine day to you, kid," he said, assuming that the Gaelic meant something along the lines of 'good day' or 'hello.' He listened patiently to the story, watching the kid's eyes flick to his knife, Adam's own eyes watching him carefully, curiously, genuinely. "Well then," he said, at the end of it, "I bet Sammy's glad you took him back to the shore. A fine deed for you to do, Roan, and a nice story - you're pretty good."
Now that everyone's attention was on him, it was his turn to tell a story. "Well, buckle in - this was a fairy tale my father used to tell me." A lie, but a white one, harmless in nature, a second layer to disguise that his story, too, was from his past. He sticks the newly pointy end of his stick in the ground, and begins narrating, floating his knife around near him as if to gesticulate - for the drama, of course.
"Once upon a time, there was a soldier. Now, this soldier wasn't anything special - he was just another body, frankly. Someone not worth a name or anything. But he desperately wanted to be something, you know? And not just any something, he wants to be someone great, someone whose name goes down in history.
Now, this soldier, this nobody, he trundled along for years without a real purpose. Then, one day, he heard there was a wise man near where he was stationed, and this wise man would answer any question accurately - even about the future! - however, you could only ask him one question.
So after some time thinking, he goes to see this wise man, and he asks, 'wise one, please tell me - what is the point of living in this world?' The wise man looks at him, and says, 'Are you sure that is what you want to ask?' Because, y'know, there's no turning back after this. But the soldier nods his head, determined, so the wise man says, 'Very well, I will tell you what you ask; but first, you must perform three tasks.'
'Anything,' the soldier says, 'as long as you tell me what I should do with life.'
'First, you must rise through your ranks. Second, you must gain a name, as only the named can be worthy of meaning. Then, you must find me again where you have never been before, and ask me then.'
The soldier nods immediately - he's unsure of himself, yeah, but he's determined. He'll do anything at this point. So he trains, and he rises through his ranks, just as the wise man said. He becomes a ruthless combatant, and because of this hears that his enemies have given him a name. When he hears this, he's overjoyed, and he realizes that with that his first two tasks are fulfilled. Then, he begins his search for the wise man.
It takes him a year of searching, going to the tops of mountains, sailing to distant islands. As months pass without even a hint of where the man could be, he goes back to where he first meets the wise man for some clues - except the man is there to greet him. The soldier is taken aback at first, and in his anger and surprise, he asks the old man, 'Why are you here? Did you not tell me to find you where I had never been?' The wise man smiles, and says, 'But you have never been here as you are now. You are a new man, now, someone who has gained a name for himself. Now I will tell you what the purpose of life is.
'Life is nothing without an ideology. You must break from society and become your own person with your own philosophy - only then can you enter the true man's world.'"
As soon as he's finished, he sighs. "Story's always stuck with me, even after he passed away. It's a philosophy that I think is important to uphold, y'know?" With a shrug, he picks the stick back up, and returns to whittling away, this time beginning to carve a more intricate design into the improvised shiv. "Just gotta make yourself into something worth being."
Greed was up first. His was about a fight he had once, which told him many things - that he valued his combat prowess, for one, which was absolutely excellent. That he had experience with the strange, which was good for any soldier. That he had problems with his family, and that he didn't fight girls, both of which weren't good traits, but would be useful regardless. "A fine tale, there - though I'd hope you've learned your lesson. If someone goes picking a fight, you oughta give it to 'em." He said it nicely enough, not a hint of any misplaced aggression in his voice - just a comment on his attitude. After a moment, he added, "Sorry 'bout the rest, though. Especially family - those can be rough. Glad that you've found a place here, though." His eyes glanced from Greed to Roxanne, the second person to join his little hoedown.
"'s not the content of the story, but the way it's told," he said, by way of platitude. That much wasn't a lie (it would be a bit silly to lie about something that small), so he found it easy to work in, as a little endearing belief of his. Roxanne's story told him mainly about how she valued her family above all else - and on top of that, he got an entertaining little tale about a birthday present. That was enough Intel for him, at least - this was an exercise in finding out what people thought of first when asked to tell a story. "A whole whale shark, huh? Damn, now I bet that'd be a sight."
The last was Roan, who - well. He was just a kid. It was hard for him to keep up the mindset of an analytical commander, picking apart those he met to figure out their strengths and weaknesses, when the small one was happily spouting Gaelic and talking about a turtle he found once. Poor kid - Adam could only hope he grew up strong in this world. "And a mighty fine day to you, kid," he said, assuming that the Gaelic meant something along the lines of 'good day' or 'hello.' He listened patiently to the story, watching the kid's eyes flick to his knife, Adam's own eyes watching him carefully, curiously, genuinely. "Well then," he said, at the end of it, "I bet Sammy's glad you took him back to the shore. A fine deed for you to do, Roan, and a nice story - you're pretty good."
Now that everyone's attention was on him, it was his turn to tell a story. "Well, buckle in - this was a fairy tale my father used to tell me." A lie, but a white one, harmless in nature, a second layer to disguise that his story, too, was from his past. He sticks the newly pointy end of his stick in the ground, and begins narrating, floating his knife around near him as if to gesticulate - for the drama, of course.
"Once upon a time, there was a soldier. Now, this soldier wasn't anything special - he was just another body, frankly. Someone not worth a name or anything. But he desperately wanted to be something, you know? And not just any something, he wants to be someone great, someone whose name goes down in history.
Now, this soldier, this nobody, he trundled along for years without a real purpose. Then, one day, he heard there was a wise man near where he was stationed, and this wise man would answer any question accurately - even about the future! - however, you could only ask him one question.
So after some time thinking, he goes to see this wise man, and he asks, 'wise one, please tell me - what is the point of living in this world?' The wise man looks at him, and says, 'Are you sure that is what you want to ask?' Because, y'know, there's no turning back after this. But the soldier nods his head, determined, so the wise man says, 'Very well, I will tell you what you ask; but first, you must perform three tasks.'
'Anything,' the soldier says, 'as long as you tell me what I should do with life.'
'First, you must rise through your ranks. Second, you must gain a name, as only the named can be worthy of meaning. Then, you must find me again where you have never been before, and ask me then.'
The soldier nods immediately - he's unsure of himself, yeah, but he's determined. He'll do anything at this point. So he trains, and he rises through his ranks, just as the wise man said. He becomes a ruthless combatant, and because of this hears that his enemies have given him a name. When he hears this, he's overjoyed, and he realizes that with that his first two tasks are fulfilled. Then, he begins his search for the wise man.
It takes him a year of searching, going to the tops of mountains, sailing to distant islands. As months pass without even a hint of where the man could be, he goes back to where he first meets the wise man for some clues - except the man is there to greet him. The soldier is taken aback at first, and in his anger and surprise, he asks the old man, 'Why are you here? Did you not tell me to find you where I had never been?' The wise man smiles, and says, 'But you have never been here as you are now. You are a new man, now, someone who has gained a name for himself. Now I will tell you what the purpose of life is.
'Life is nothing without an ideology. You must break from society and become your own person with your own philosophy - only then can you enter the true man's world.'"
As soon as he's finished, he sighs. "Story's always stuck with me, even after he passed away. It's a philosophy that I think is important to uphold, y'know?" With a shrug, he picks the stick back up, and returns to whittling away, this time beginning to carve a more intricate design into the improvised shiv. "Just gotta make yourself into something worth being."
tags - "speech"