I'm a fairly lazy person. I tend to procrastinate as much as possible, but sometimes I just can't be bothered to do even that. So just earlier I decided to have that shave I had been needing for the last fortnight. Trivial enough yet? Well I can do
Despite being a simple procedure the act of shaving varies in the details from person to person. For me the mundane routine goes:
1) Apply shaving cream. It doesn't seem to do anything but I'm not going to argue with every other male of the modern world.
2) Find the comfortable angle to shave with, then reverse it because biology hates you and this is more effective.
3) Avoid slashing throat. Getting those last few hairs is not worth the potential embarrassment/death.
4) Give up on the last lingering hairs. They win this round.
5) Realise how much time has been wasted on this endeavour, cue existential crisis.
And now you know how I shave. But for those of you who want more than just a recount of basic life exercise, here's a low fantasy style story* inspired by the act of shaving:
Grim Dark and the Tsinogatna
Gripping his well-notched sword tightly Grim brought it down past his opponent's guard and carved deeply into his torso. Blood spurted from the gaping wound as the Tsinogatna savage collasped into a heap.
Glancing around Grim noticed that he had now been completely surrounded. It had been only a matter of time but he had hoped to make more progress before it had happened. Only a scant five Tsinogatna lay dead at his feet.
"Fight me like warriors you bastards," Grim exhorted, assuming a defensive stance.
The Tsinogatna were a hostile people. From their mountain refuges they would raid nearby, more peaceful villages and towns. None could predict when and where they'd strike so the only way to deal with the Tsinogatna was to take the fight to them.
After some less than effective attempts from local militias Grim Dark had been approached. Even in this backwater country the pilgrim's exploits were known.
Two of the vicious Tsinogatna began to approach the lone fighter, their weapons rusted and wicked, their eyes dark and violent. Spinning around suddenly Grim slashed the third savage who had been approaching from behind. They'd need more than that to down the legendary mercenary.
Undeterred the remaining two attacked at once. Grim dexterously rolled to the left and struck one of them in the his unprotected side, Grim's sword cracking ribs and piercing organs.
The last attacker leapt at Grim, snarling and bringing his axe down. The sword met the axe and the weapons locked. Grunting Grim forced the clashed weapons aside with one hand and punched the Tsinogatna in the face with his other. Nose and jaw broken the savage was hopeless against Grim's finishing blow.
One on one the Tsinogatna stood no chance against the pilgrim as Grim was by far physically superior to them. His chiselled muscles were covered in a network of scars, each one a hard won fight and life experience. While muscular, Grim was not bulky, but rather lean, like a lone wolf. And like a lone wolf he was ruthless and determined.
Before he had even managed to pull his sword from his latest corpse another five Tsinogatna from the surrounding dozens surged forward. Quickly looting the his last opponent's weapon, Grim stood defiantly sword and axe in hand.
"Your Gods have forsaken you," he laughed.
Grim danced the dance of death. Tsinogatna fell before him but more filled their place. Whatever they gave he gave back better and soon there was nothing but blood and silence. A few Tsinogatna had fled but most were dead. You could never get all of them, all you could do was lessen their numbers.
On top of a pile of his slain enemies, cut and bruised, Grim stood grinning. On this day he was the victor but there would always be more fights for that was the way of the drifter.
*Assume any and all cliches and bad writing are a deliberate parody.
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