They call me Smoke, I think it started out as a joke on account of I like good cigars. Those halfings might not be much in a fight but they know how to grow a plant or two.
That nickname however soon took up another meaning. Now I ain't one to brag but I can disappear right quick when I want to. That made me perfect as a scout.
It don't matter, narrow street alleys or dense jungle. I'm pretty silent in both, makes the boss man give me more slack than the other scouts.
I've been with this outfit for coming on 20 years now and they have been fair to me by mercenary standards. Ain't no one told me to stand a die for a cause "other than coin of course" since I joined. I like that kind of leadership.
My past should stay that way, let's just say I wasn't a beardless youth when I started wandering and eventually started working as a mercenary. I left somethings and somepeople behind and its best not to think about all that anymore.
Unlike some of the guys in this outfit I got somewhat of a conscience, I don't kill noncoms or break shit when we loot. I just take anything that looks worth it to me and let the regular folks keep them some stuff. It isn't their fault, most of the time, they get caught up in wars.
It's always those bigwigs making choices that end up getting innocent people killed. But that kind of philosophy isn't my strong suite, I should probably stick to what I know and leave those thoughts to the Captain and the other officers.
Some folk talk about retirement, of hitting it big and settling down with a family. Personally I think I will die out here someday. on some contract for some noble probably killing people who don't deserve it. I couldn't start a family and be that guy who is all smiles, not again.
Anyway, that's me. Just another tough old basterd who is just waiting for someone tougher to put me out of my misery. Until then however I just have to keep moving forward.
No comments:
Post a Comment