Of The Good Swami: [b:4af03c2d58]Naib Subedar Swami Suckabanana[/b:4af03c2d58] [i:4af03c2d58]I started writing this on the old boards and it was going well untill my life got complicated. Now I want to finish this illustrious tale of adventure and insanity. Please enjoy![/i:4af03c2d58] In India, Naib Subedars are Junior Commissioned Officers. Prior to 1965, the rank of Naib Subedar was known as Jemedar. This is the story of Naib Subedar Swami Suckabanana. Well, not the whole story, just the bit in between his tour with the army in Klatch, and his imprisonment and subsequnt death in the jail of Ankh Morpork. I might do a background story of his life in India prior to the "accident" if this goes well. The good Swami came to the Discworld in a very unsusal way. Here is an excerp from the registration thread of the Spirits Of Remuloc. quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Swami Sukabanana was a yogi who lived a life on non-violence, until one day when he joined the Indian Army. The British had declared that the Nation of India could not import anything after the Partition, so he couldn't get his precious Coca-Cola. Alas, it drove him violently insane. One day he was scouting a mine field in Calcutta when he heard a strange rumbling in the distance. The ground started to shake and open up. In the midst of the rift was a ledge with a bottle on it, a bottle marked Coca-Cola. Suckabanana lept for joy, scrambled down to the ledge and opened the bottle. It wasn't until after the first sip has passed his lips that he realized his fateful mistake. For the bottle contained potent wow-wow sauce, wow-wow sauce like no other. He was instantly rocketed through a Transdimentional Tear (ala Star Trek). When he awoke he was in a most foul smelling city called Klatch...... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For those of you who have not, and would like to read the original Spirits Of Remuloc game, it will provide some background and character development. You can find it Here I highly recommend you read it.
In the cold morning after it was hard to believe what had happened. The good Swami was sitting on a large rock over to one side of what was left of the camp. He was trying to ponder the meaning of it all. He wasn't doing a very good job of it. He tried to sit in the lotus position and couldn't get his one leg to stop shaking. The result was a spectacle of swearing Swami. He fell off the rock, legs and arms waving in the air. "Shiva, please to be saving me" he huffed under his breath. He wondered what Rambson was up to. He liked that one, he wasn't sure what he was, but he seemed to not want to kill him. That was a sure sign of friendship for the exasperated Swami. He couldn't understand this world; so many things were different. He didn't really even understand how he got there; besides the obvious theory that the coca-cola bottle was poison and he had drank it and died. He figured that if he had died, he could have been reincarnated onto this world. But did not the normal course of reincarnation call for rebirth? How then had he been almost transported, as it were, to this place with his old (well, not so old he didn't think) body? He still had his wrinkles and saffron robe and fading red tilak on his forehead. He was the same Swami; he was still Naib Subedar Swami Suckabanana. He thought about the band on his world, they were called "The Rolling Stones", he had no idea why they were called that. He liked that band, they had sung about his ancestors, the Troubadours, they had come from France long ago. Apparently someone had laid traps for them and they had been killed before they reached Bombay, so the song said. But that was long ago, and his ancestors (what was left of them after the traps) settled in Kulu Manali. It was a little town in the foothills of the Himalayas, lots of water falls. No one knew about the Troubadours here, they didn't know about coca-cola, they didn't know about "The Rolling Stones", they didn’t know about Kulu Manali, they didn't even know about Shiva and Vishnu and the great goddess of death and rebirth Kali Ma. But they knew about OM. At least, he thought they did, he had heard that Priestess saying something about OM. He wondered about that, he would have to talk to her soon. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ~Musical Interlude~ We take a break from this story for a song from the Lord of the Pies, Ba Witda: Please allow Him to introduce Himself, He's a man of wealth and taste. He's been around for a long, long year, Stole many a man's soul and pastry. And He was around when Clay Garner Had his moment of Argonic pain. Redemption of Elrond, Washed his hands and sealed his fate. Pleased to meet them, Hope they've guessed His name. But what's puzzling them Is the nature of His game. Stuck around St. Terrysburg When He saw it was time for a change. Killed the Biddies and their ministers, Dragonmother screamed in vain. He rode a tank Held a Member's rank When the flame war raged And the bullsh*t stank Pleased to meet them, Hope they've guessed His name. But what's puzzling them Is the nature of His game. He watched with glee While their kings and queens Fought for ten months straight For the gods they made. He shouted out 'Who killed the Star Trekkers,' When after all, it was Him and them. Let Him introduce Himself, He's a man of wealth and taste. And He laid traps for the Bluegerbils Who get killed before they reached L-Space. Pleased to meet them, Hope they've guessed His name. But what's puzzling them Is the nature of His game. Pleased to meet them, Hope they've guessed His name. But what's puzzling them Is the nature of His game. Just like every troll is literate, And all the flamers saints. As heads is tails, Please call Him Ba Witda, 'Cause He's in need of some restraint. So if they meet Him, Have some courtesy, Have some sympathy and some taste. Use their well-earned board ratings, Or he'll lay their souls to waste. But what's puzzling them Is the nature of His game. Tell Him, baby, what's His name. Tell Him, honey, can she guess His name. Tell Him, baby, what's His game. He tells them one time, they're to blame. What's the name. Tell Him, baby, what's His name. Tell Him, sweetie, what's His name. Oh yeah. We now resume to our regularly scheduled programming. Enjoy! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Private Malachai was old, very, very old. He was so old in fact, that he had forgotten how old he really was. He was not always this old. Once, many, many years ago he was young. Well, not so much young, but younger than he was now. He couldn't remember being young. It was too long ago. Private Malachai was a vampire, a very old vampire. He thought about that with some bitterness. Wasn't the point of being a vampire eternal youth? Not when you were turned into one when you were already an old man. Most people thought of vampires as vigorous young men, who lived forever basking in their eternal youth. He had been an old man when they turned him. He didn't know why they chose him at such a old age, he was already passed his prime. He was not one of those romantic gothic vampires you read about in the stories. Once a long time ago he was a rouge wanderer, he traveled cities and forests and did all the things rouge wanderers did. He seduced fair maidens, fought with gallant men and generally did his own thing. One night he was camping on a road that lead to Ankh Morpork, or away from it, as the case may be. It was an ordinary road, a road much like any other. He couldn't remember where he was going, or what he was coming from, he only remembered that it was the last night he set up camp. The fire was crackling and the night was clear. He could see far into the distance, and for a minute he thought he saw eyes. White eyes he saw, the eyes of the undead. He dismissed this as a silly thought. Undead were only in stories, and far off places that ended in "vania". He regretted dismissing the thought for many, many years. He had been an old man when they got him (I said that already, didn't I. Well, I just want to emphasize the point that he was already an old man, don't get all snippy with me, I'm the one telling the bloody story) Anyway, those dead eyes got him, and he was no where near any place that ended in "vania". He roamed the countryside for years after that, burrowing into the moist soil during the day and stalking the outskirts of villages by night. Once he fell in love with a shepherd girl, but since he was undead, and she was, well, not undead, it didn't really work out. For many long lonely years he sought some way to undo what "they" had done. But as the years rolled on and he became increasingly frail, he gave up. He figured that the only way he would escape this mortal coil, as it were, was to join the army. In most armies they have rules about vampires in the force, but in Klatch, they have no such rules. Especially if someone joined of their own free will. Private Malachai figured this would be a good way to spend his days, or nights rather. He was a very good solider, and was treated kindly by all the men in the company, and most of the women too. Private Mary had taken a special liking to him, she had given him her hanky when he coughed and sputtered. She rubbed his back when he hacked up dust that was older than The Shroud of Turin. Sometimes he hacked on purpose so she would come and sit beside him and rub his back. Private Malachai had noticed Swami Suckabanana on the first day he appeared in the camp. And he did, just appear, it seemed out of nowhere. He was a strange little man, with a wide toothy grin and a strange spot of red on his forehead. He thought he should tell him, no good walking around with a spot on your forehead, thought Malachai, it was embarrassing. And look, the good Swami was walking his way now. "Namaste good sir, greetings be upon you" Swami Suckabanana called out as he approached the old vampire. Malachai looked up and said "You got red on you"
“Please to be excusing me, I must not understanding. You are referring to the Tilak, yes?” Suckabanana had encountered this problem before, not only on this world, but also on his. He pointed vigorously to his forehead. Private Malachai stared for a second, then realized that the Swami was standing there staring at him, waiting for a response, “oh, yes, I see.” He said hesitiantly. “Please come and sit down, Mary here will move over a bit, won’t you Mary?” “Of course” said Mary, who was relived to see Malachai being friendly, she was concerned for him. A vampire at his age tended to be very introverted and sometimes a little scary. She didn’t find him scary, in fact, she thought he was nice. “Would you two like some water?” She asked. “It’s a very hot day and I do think that poor Malachai here looks absolutely parched” She paused, realizing what she was saying. “Yes my good friend, you are looking rather pale. Are you most sure you have enough iron in your body?” Suckabanana said, he had worked with an anemic before and could clearly tell when the iron in the blood was low. Malachai looked the Swami up and down "Do you not realize what I am?" He stood up and stretched himself to his full height, which was really not that tall. "I am a Vampire" He boomed, or tried to boom, but the last word got stuck in his throat and he coughed. He wheezed in between coughing and sputtered. Mary handed him her hanky again and patted him gently on the back. "There, there" she cooed. "Maybe they don't have Vampires where the good Swami comes from" Malachai looked at her confused "Don't have Vampires, but, but that’s unheard of." He said and looked at Suckabanana questioningly. "Please allow me to be explaining that on my world there are only stories, no actual Vampires have ever been located, much to the disappointment of a strange group of people who call themselves 'Goth'. They like to dress in the black color and paint their faces white. Much like yours is now good sir." He took a breath and a step back. Naib Subedar Swami Suckabanana was intrigued. As a yogi and a healer he had heard of many things. One of those things was Vampires, and he never once thought they would look like Tom Cruise with blond hair. He always pictured them like Malachai, old and dusty and very, very pale. "If I may be so bold as to perform a physical examination on your good self I would be most humbled" he said, holding his breath. He waited for the answer for what felt like days, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Finally Malachai spoke. "Only if you promise to gasp and be very shocked at all the results and not just stand there tutting about how I should eat more fresh fruit" He said. "pah, Doctors" he muttered. "Wonderful, I promise to be ecstatically flabbergasted" The Swami said. He had the biggest grin you had ever seen. "Holy Vishnu, never have I dreamed of the day" And with that he took Malachai's wrist and took his pulse, of which there was none. He listened to Malachai's heartbeat, also of which there was none. He let out a large and theatrical gasp at the results of his two preliminary tests. "Extraordinary" he shouted. "Please if you would be so kind as to be turning around." Suckbanana placed his hand on Malachai's back, just between the shoulder blades. "Hummmm, most interesting" he mused. He placed his ear where his hand just was and listened for a moment. "This most certainly cannot be" He walked around to face Malachai, he put his hand on his chest. "Please to be inhaling slowly, good, good, now...exhaling slowly, good, good....inhaling again please, now exhaling.." Malachai coughed on the last exhale and Suckabanana's hand went flying off his chest. "What? What is it? What did you find?" Malachai asked, he was talking to the Swami but looking at Mary who was standing there, pale as a ghost. "My good man, it seems that you are having a very chronic and upsetting case of bronchitis." Suckabanana looked at him with a smile "How this is possible I do not know, suffice to say that I can cure it."
Time has passed quickly that night and the sky was starting to brighten with the comming dawn. Malachai excused himself and went to his tent, taking Mary with him. Suckabanana wandered around the camp watching the sun rise and chanting quietly to himself. He was just entering the lower part of the camp where the canteen and the shower tents were. He had been up all night talking to Malachai and now he was tired and hungry, very, very hungry. Naib Subedar Swami Suckabanana walked over to the mess hall where he hoped to find some food, or at least something that resembled it. He hadn't got very far when he spotted Private Lime Stone wandering near the vicinity of the mess hall tent. Private Stone was looking rather shifty and was presently ducking and weaving around the tent. Suckabanana has never even seen a troll before, much less studied their behavior, so thought nothing of it until he spotted, just inside the tent, the object of Lime Stone's odd prancing about. Private Rambson was just inside the tent, he was eating what appeared to be the side of a large hog. Suckabanana shivered, he was a vegetarian, and had been for the whole of his life. He shuddered at the thought of consuming animal parts, he wondered if there was any fresh spinach in the mess hall. He liked Rambson, even though he had never seen a dwarf before, he recognized a good person when he saw one. As he ducked inside the tent Suckabanana called out to his little friend. "Little Friend" he said. "Please be excusing my most rude interruption of your most splendid feast" he bowed to Rambson in a slightly exaggerated and definitely wobbly manner. "I am wondering if, in this fine kitchen establishment, there might be some nourishment of the non-meat variety?" Without looking up from his side-o-meat, Private Rambson threw him a loaf of dwarf bread. It hit Suckabanana square in the chest and knocked the wind right out of him. Sputtering and shaking he got back on his feet, the loaf of bread grasped firmly in his hand. "My most humble thanks good friend" "No problemmm hummmf, sorry about nnnocking thef wind o ya" He said between swallows of meat and some kind of ale like substance that was probably...ale. He swallowed and looked up finally "Would you care of a tub o ale?" He said gruffly, brushing the grease and crumbs from his beard. Rambson slid a glass down the table to the end where Suckabanana was still standing, clutching his bread like a beauty queen winner clutching her crown, afraid someone prettier, more deserving would steal it. "Sit down then fool, or are you going to stand o round gaping like a fokin fish all day, aye?" Suckabanana gulped and sat slowly down. "My most humble thanks for your gracious hospitality, I am eternally in your..." Rambson cut him off abruptly "Cut the crap already, just eat the damn food and leave it at that aye" "Acha ji" said Swami. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile in the tent of Captain Orrdos a yelling contest was underway. Granted the only person in the tent at the time was Captain Orrdos....... Want to know what comes next? Intersted in what the Captain might be yelling to himself about? Courious as to whether the platoon will ever leave the archiological site? Stay tuned!
