Post by xelar on Nov 30, 2011 11:26:28 GMT -5
having taken a break in his Training to subsume his inner darknesses Bassoon decided to begin to work towards rebuilding and replacing the training grounds he had destroyed in his shameful tantrum, he stepped into the village and ignoring the various farmers who stopped to look at him made straight for the prominent home in the middle of the village; Presuming its owner to be the elder, his suspicions were confirmed when an namek, bloated with age emerged from the hut to greet him.
"greetings brother..." the old namekian rasped with his dry voice, beholding bassoon with eyes closed to a squint in the bright daylight "what brings you to our home ?"
"Greetings Esteemed elder." bassoon replies as he bows slightly in respect to the venerable namekian before him "I have come to find a home and make a living." he says, eyes dropping to the floor in slight shame, knowing full well he was asking for charity in being given a home and a job.
"I see.....a warrior caste made weary by the strains of the world now seeking to loose himself in the simplicity of our lifestyle...commendable..." he croaks as he gestures to one of the burlier looking namekians "we shall give you a home and work. lampoon here will see to building you a hut on the outcropping near by."
The large namekian nodded and taking to the air flew swiftly out of sight, "as for work...hmm...your warriors training should not go to waste pulling crops from a field...and we are in need of a service...you will be one of our bounders, a task i presume you're experienced with ?"
Bassoon nodded, he'd spent most of his life driving giant grabs from villages water sources and dissuading travelers from offering violence so it was almost as if he'd reassumed his mantle as protector.
"good...good.." the elder rasped "excuse me brother but now i tire...nameks suns weigh heavily upon me in my old age." and without further fan fare he calmly walked back within his home.
Over the next several days Bassoon familiarized himself with his new home, getting to know his new neighbors and clearing out hoards of the crop destroying frogs before they could ruin the harvests, though it was a happy enough arrangement on the surface he couldn't help but feel slightly resented by his civilian brothers, his home being on the outskirts of the village made him feel as if he was unwelcome and only allowed to dwell there because he was a fellow namekian.
As the days dragged on and alien tourists came and went he found further employment in offering tours whenever he had the free time and energy to go on them.
he found himself beginning to prefer the company of strangers for there indifference rather than the fearful unease projected onto him by his fellow nameks and eventually withdrawing from all social contact with his brethren and simply turning up to do his part in the community then swiftly leaving.
When not driving of fauna or taking the various strange life forms that came to visit "serene green namek." to see the distinct lack of sights, Bassoon meditated in his solitude, today was one such day, and there he sat in the center of his abode.
he had pondered many things in his time. pondered the nature of his being, the purpose of his existance and the intentions whatever force had ensured his occurance had intended him, but today he pondered the changes he intended to make to the training grounds.
nameks new generation of defenders would need to have access to far better equipment than mere wooden manaquins and menhirs for targets. a quiet voice piped up in his mind, that culture was the most important thing to teach a young warrior, not combat, and that any advanced equipment would distant them from that vital lesson; He silenced that voice with the reasoning that there must allways be room for adaption in cultures and change would be good, that and the old ways had nearly gotten them wiped out on several occasions before now.
time passed unnoticeably to him as he sat there pondering the various equipment he had seen various pilgrim warriors using as they came to namek for quiet repose.
his time was nearly up, the next group of tourists would be at his home momentarily, sighing resignedly he stood up and went out to wait for them with his best forced smile. it seemed they cared to learn more about namek than most namekians were. and in there contributions to his cause were doing more to preserve it than most namekians were.
such an irony, he greeted the strange beings with a bow and on foot lead them through the hill lands. telling them of nameks history, its people and its current events in the lightest and brightest way he could fabricate.
as he lead them along one of the islands shores he mentioned namekian biology required only water to sustain them, and the hydrangea plants that nameks spent there time growing were eaten for pleasure rather than sustenance, some of the more vocal tourists piped up to mention there own native dishes as suggestions for him to try sometime.
eventualy the tour came to its close, and bassoon wished his customers well, as they passed by leaving there various donations within the small white pot he had left out, thanking them and informing them that there money was going to the "Preservation of nameks culture and making the tours more interesting." inviting them to come back in a few years and see.
then when the last of stragglers had gotten him to pose with them for pictures and wandered off, he returned to his home, emptying out the pot into a small secure lockbox and returning to his meditations.
"greetings brother..." the old namekian rasped with his dry voice, beholding bassoon with eyes closed to a squint in the bright daylight "what brings you to our home ?"
"Greetings Esteemed elder." bassoon replies as he bows slightly in respect to the venerable namekian before him "I have come to find a home and make a living." he says, eyes dropping to the floor in slight shame, knowing full well he was asking for charity in being given a home and a job.
"I see.....a warrior caste made weary by the strains of the world now seeking to loose himself in the simplicity of our lifestyle...commendable..." he croaks as he gestures to one of the burlier looking namekians "we shall give you a home and work. lampoon here will see to building you a hut on the outcropping near by."
The large namekian nodded and taking to the air flew swiftly out of sight, "as for work...hmm...your warriors training should not go to waste pulling crops from a field...and we are in need of a service...you will be one of our bounders, a task i presume you're experienced with ?"
Bassoon nodded, he'd spent most of his life driving giant grabs from villages water sources and dissuading travelers from offering violence so it was almost as if he'd reassumed his mantle as protector.
"good...good.." the elder rasped "excuse me brother but now i tire...nameks suns weigh heavily upon me in my old age." and without further fan fare he calmly walked back within his home.
Over the next several days Bassoon familiarized himself with his new home, getting to know his new neighbors and clearing out hoards of the crop destroying frogs before they could ruin the harvests, though it was a happy enough arrangement on the surface he couldn't help but feel slightly resented by his civilian brothers, his home being on the outskirts of the village made him feel as if he was unwelcome and only allowed to dwell there because he was a fellow namekian.
As the days dragged on and alien tourists came and went he found further employment in offering tours whenever he had the free time and energy to go on them.
he found himself beginning to prefer the company of strangers for there indifference rather than the fearful unease projected onto him by his fellow nameks and eventually withdrawing from all social contact with his brethren and simply turning up to do his part in the community then swiftly leaving.
When not driving of fauna or taking the various strange life forms that came to visit "serene green namek." to see the distinct lack of sights, Bassoon meditated in his solitude, today was one such day, and there he sat in the center of his abode.
he had pondered many things in his time. pondered the nature of his being, the purpose of his existance and the intentions whatever force had ensured his occurance had intended him, but today he pondered the changes he intended to make to the training grounds.
nameks new generation of defenders would need to have access to far better equipment than mere wooden manaquins and menhirs for targets. a quiet voice piped up in his mind, that culture was the most important thing to teach a young warrior, not combat, and that any advanced equipment would distant them from that vital lesson; He silenced that voice with the reasoning that there must allways be room for adaption in cultures and change would be good, that and the old ways had nearly gotten them wiped out on several occasions before now.
time passed unnoticeably to him as he sat there pondering the various equipment he had seen various pilgrim warriors using as they came to namek for quiet repose.
his time was nearly up, the next group of tourists would be at his home momentarily, sighing resignedly he stood up and went out to wait for them with his best forced smile. it seemed they cared to learn more about namek than most namekians were. and in there contributions to his cause were doing more to preserve it than most namekians were.
such an irony, he greeted the strange beings with a bow and on foot lead them through the hill lands. telling them of nameks history, its people and its current events in the lightest and brightest way he could fabricate.
as he lead them along one of the islands shores he mentioned namekian biology required only water to sustain them, and the hydrangea plants that nameks spent there time growing were eaten for pleasure rather than sustenance, some of the more vocal tourists piped up to mention there own native dishes as suggestions for him to try sometime.
eventualy the tour came to its close, and bassoon wished his customers well, as they passed by leaving there various donations within the small white pot he had left out, thanking them and informing them that there money was going to the "Preservation of nameks culture and making the tours more interesting." inviting them to come back in a few years and see.
then when the last of stragglers had gotten him to pose with them for pictures and wandered off, he returned to his home, emptying out the pot into a small secure lockbox and returning to his meditations.