Almost Legends

[Call me J]

(closed/solo. bazaar mods, Artifex is going to be handling this thread, so you can ignore it unless you want to read the story)

There were many things that Jame knew he was going to want for his journey, but above all else, he knew he was going to need better weapons. At the moment, he had his short sword and his spear, both of which could come in handy, but neither of which were really efficient weapons for the kind of combat he envisioned. The half dragon was growing quite powerful, and he knew he would need armor that could protect him.

Unfortunately, Jame only knew the very basics about warfare. He knew he would want a rather large sword, but he didn’t know what kind of a sword would fit his skills properly. For a moment, he considered waiting until he reached Alerar to purchase armor, but he soon decided against it. There would be far too many challenges between then and now that he would have to face.

As Jame looked around the bazaar, he couldn’t find many people who seemed to have a weapon like the one he was thinking of. There were people with swords, people with guns, and even some with giant battle-axes. However, there was no one who was walking through the bazaar who was wearing the kind of armor Jame was looking for, though in truth he didn't know what he needed.

With a weary expression on his face, Jame wondered how much trouble he would have had if he had been able to have spent more of his life with his father. From what he could gather around him, most of the soldiers his age had already had the chance to learn from their fathers. Jame’s stepfather had never much cared for him, and his real father was far too old to be of much help. Plus, Jame didn’t even know if his father would have helped if asked.

It was unjust, but Jame was on his own, both for this purchase and in life. He had never wanted to be involved in the affairs of Raiaera in the first place, and he never would have thought that he would have spent his the remainder of his youth struggling through conflicts that had never been his.

There were two options, Jame could fight his way through, or sulk until his death. He hoped he could find the strength for the former, but he feared he would end up with the latter. The idea of battling for his life was hard enough, the idea that he was being expected to become a hero made it that much harder to bear. It was ironic. Many children would have spent their childhoods whispering desperately for the life that he now had, and Jame himself had never really had a childhood.

Perhaps it was because he never had a childhood that he resented the idea of a destiny of violence, but that was something that Jame couldn’t change.

For a moment, he mused about how wonderful it would have been if he could not just buy a sword at the bazaar that day, but a new personality that wasn’t going to be afraid of the tasks that lay ahead. Until recently, Jame felt as though there was nothing money couldn’t fix, but now, he felt completely and utterly powerless.

More than anything else, Jame couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that things were only going to get more complicated before they got any better.

[Call me J]

Jame continued to pass by the shops in the Bazaar, but he wandered listlessly. He smiled politely at the attractive young women he had passed, but otherwise, his attention was focused on the weapons and armor shops. Many things caught his attention, just because they were so strange. He was surprised by the huge variety of things that could appear on top of poles. There were all kinds of spear heads and blades, axe heads, smooth metal balls, spiked metal balls, spikes, and there was even more variety within those sub groups.

It made Jame wonder how anyone ever chose a weapon. The choices were almost crippling. Frustrated, he mumbled irritably, “it’s just not fair to be here, someone should be doing this for me.”

“All you have to do is ask!” came the reply.

Jame’s body froze as he heard that statement. He hadn’t even realized that he’d vented his frustrations aloud. He looked around to see a small crippled child, sitting in a wheelchair being pushed by an older man. From the tone of voice he had heard, Jame wasn’t sure which of the two had responded. The voice was high pitched enough to be that of a child, but sounded so calm and serene that it felt beyond the emotional range of a mere child.

“I normally choose not to ask strangers...” Jame replied.

The small boy shook his head, as if he pitied Jame for his outlook. “Strangers are not strangers when they’re going to be family,” the child said.

Jame could tell now that it had been the child that had spoken to him before. He could also tell that the child was very annoying. “And strangers are still strangers when they’re bothering me with stupid sayings,” Jame shot back. “Look, I’ve come here looking for some armor, and I don’t really want to have to bother with whatever story you have planned. I have enough adventure already in my life without listening to a crippled boy...” Jame began to walk away.

The older man who had been pushing the boy’s wheelchair cleared his throat. “I would think you would have a little more respect,” he said. “The boy hasn’t done anything to you.” He began to unsheath a short sword from a sheath.

Jame turned around to see the old man drawing his weapon. He knew there were guards at the Bazaar, but they probably wouldn’t reach him in time. The half dragon took a deep inhale as his lungs began to fill with flame. If there had to be a fight, Jame was ready for it, even though he prefered to let the day pass without incident.

[Call me J]

Before the fight could even get started, the crippled boy interjected. He reached out his hand towards the old man, and grabbed him on the wrist. “No, Virtue!” the boy exclaimed. “I heard the sound of your blade being unsheathed and I want none of that here. This man, he is one of us. Brave, bold and wants a better world. My vision has told me that.”

Virtue grunted. “Wouldn’t think that to look at him now,” the older man replied. However, to Jame’s relief, the weapon went back into the sheath.

“Well with time, we shall see,” the boy said. He smiled blankly in the direction from where Jame’s voice had last come from.

“Blind too,” Jame realized. “This kid’s some winner on where to take my life. Jame had relaxed a bit since the weapons were put away, and had decided it was worth humoring the child a bit longer, especially since he didn’t want any more violence than needed.

“When you fight, do you fight for something you believe in?” the boy now asked. “Do you fight to come closer to the light, or do you remain lost in the darkness forever. You ought to know by now that without a purpose, war is just hollow...”

“War itself is hollow,” Jame interrupted. “I’ve fought before, and trust me, it meant nothing.”

“Why did you fight?” the boy replied. It seemed as if he had predicted Jame’s interjection.

“Because it was better than being dead?” Jame shot back.

The crippled boy seemed to be genuinely surprised with Jame’s answer. His next question didn’t seem to flow as seamlessly from what Jame had said as the other statements that he had made. “Well what will you do when you’re facing no threat...”

Jame laughed hollowly. After meeting the Patriarch, that day could only come too soon. “Sleep...” he said. “Sleep a long hard night and only wake up for sex and liquor.”

Virtue’s eyes seemed to raise wide at that answer. “Leave this kid alone,” he said to the crippled boy. “He’s a waste. Even if you think he’s going to be something one day, he’s still nothing now.”

Jame supposed that Virtue’s words were meant to insult him, but he didn’t care. This crippled boy and his older guardian didn’t know him well enough to make guesses like that. “Well then,” Jame said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

“Fine...” Virtue said.

“Wait!” shouted the boy.

Jame paid no attention to the child and continued walking through the street of the Bazaar.

[Call me J]

Fifteen minutes after his argument with the crippled boy and his guardian, Jame was watching a public demonstration. William’s House of Armor was trying to demonstrate the effectiveness of Alerian mythril by subjecting one of their shophands to a series of blows. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the demonstration, save for the poor shophand caught in the middle of it. Jame chuckled. The boy seemed to be coming to no harm, so Jame figured it was all honest fun.

Soon enough, he was interrupted again by Virtue. The old man had walked up beside him, and while the two did not make eye contact, Jame knew that he was going to have more demanded of him.

“Look punk,” Virtue said. “I’m going to make your choice simple. That boy wants to talk to you, and let his vision help me, but I’m ready to break your legs if you don’t go over to the eatery two shops down and talk with that little boy that you’ve been ignoring. He’s been trying hard to give you a future you can only dream of, and instead, you’re busy watching this show. I would kill you for your ingratitude if the kid didn’t want you.”

Jame considered his two options. He didn’t think that this Virtue fellow could defeat him in a fight, but even so, the law frowned on violence in the Bazaar. Jame took one deep sigh and then decided that he would acquiesce. Virtue’s commands might have made it seem like the boy ran some kind of weird cult, but Jame had realized that if he was targeted, he was in danger regardless of whether he stayed or left.

“At least this way, I’ll know something about their numbers,” Jame reasoned.

“Alright,” he said out loud. He headed down past another two weapons shops to find a small café. It sold confectionaries and light drinks, and had dedicated some of its space to make a veranda for its patrons. The little crippled boy was sitting at one of the tables, holding a small bottled drink with the palms of his hands. Jame snickered. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought the child was from one of the posters urging people to give to the needy.

The half dragon’s shoulders drooped slightly as he sat down across from the child. “Virtue?” the boy asked.

“No,” Jame replied.

“JOULE!” the boy exclaimed brightly. “Virtue convinced you to join us after all.”

“Virtue told me to come here or he’d break my legs,” Jame replied. “And the name is Jame, not Joule.”

The boy’s face turned grave. “He never should have threatened you,” he said. “I want you in Sine Nomine out of your own free will... that is not our way here.”

The boy’s answer surprised Jame a little. He hadn’t expected that the boy would have been upset with the way he’d been treated by Virtue. In fact, Jame had expected that the threats had been the boy’s initiative. His interest had begun to be piqued, but only slightly. The half dragon had far too many concerns already placed on him for him to worry about another.

“So what’s this Sine Nomine?” Jame asked. He wasn’t sure if he was genuinely curious, or just being polite.

[Call me J]

“We’re going to fix everything wrong with the world,” the crippled boy said. “We may be small now, but we’re going to destroy every community on this planet that keeps people from achieving their true worth. I’ve seen a vision of the future, and trust me, its something that you’d want to see.”

Jame didn’t say anything as he digested the boy’s words. He sympathized with the boy’s intention, but his message seemed a bit radical. Also, as Jame realized somberly, if he were to join Sin Nomine, then he would have no peace for the rest of his life. He had hoped that when the war against Xem’zund was over, he could spend out the rest of his days in peace.

“I’m not a fighter though,” Jame said. “I know how you’ve heard of me, being one of the few survivors of the line at Carnelost, but trust me now- I’m not a real warrior. I fight now because I have to, not because I want too. Like I told you, I fight to survive, and because, for better or worse, the Mya and Raiaera need me.”

The crippled boy nodded, acknowledging Jame’s words. “And what will you do then?” the boy asked. “Go back to your drinking and sex? You’ll be a changed man then, so hardened by conflict that you’ll no longer dread the thought of danger. You’ll be a powerful weapon, but pointed in no direction. What do you think will happen then?”

Jame sighed. “I’m staying out of conflict where I can,” he said. “And I don’t think I’ll ever become this ‘weapon’ or whatever you think I will. I’ll just be happy. I was before this war started, and I will after it’s done.” However, Jame feared that what the boy had said might contain a kernel of truth. Ever since coming back from battlefield, he had found adventures even where he hadn’t been looking for them. Now, he had come to the Bazaar seeking armor on his own volition.

“Sine Nomine can take you in,” the boy continued. “It can be your mother and father and give you the guidance you need.”

“I already have a father,” Jame thought. He didn’t take the word ‘guidance’ the way that the boy had likely intended it. While Jame did crave belonging, he took the word ‘guidance’ to mean another person telling him what to do.

It seemed that the crippled boy had anticipated that. “Look...” he said. “You’ll be a big part of our group, even help make some of the decisions.” He handed Jame a piece of paper. “Take that as a gesture of goodwill, it’s a set of armor that our people have designed and we think would work good for you. That’s the advice you need from us, and we’re ready to get the rest of the advice from you. You can go to Alerar, fight a war we know needs fighting, but all we ask is that you find people disenchanted with life the way it is now and direct them to us.”

The conditions were somewhat agreeable to Jame. He was somewhat skeptical, but given that he had been asked of for so little, he decided that he would humor the kid, at least for the time being. “How will you know if I accept?” Jame asked.

The child smiled. “I will know because you’ll leave the shop across the street wearing a mask,” he said.

“And if I don’t?” Jame asked.

“And if you don’t, you will never be troubled again,” the boy declared. “Virtue will not threaten you.”

Jame nodded. If the boy was telling the truth, then Jame figured he couldn't lose because of the premise. He lay a few coins upon the table to pay for the crippled child's drink out of courtesy, and then headed across the street to the shop he'd been directed to.

[Call me J]

The shop across the street from the little eatery didn’t seem to have a name. The sign that would have normally bore a name just had a sword and shield above the door. “At least they know who their target audience is,” Jame thought, with a smile. As he entered the store, he noticed that they had a much larger number of the blue metal weapons out in prominent positions. If Jame remembered correctly, the name of that metal was prevalida.

The walls were coated with all these expensive weapons, and there were some particularly ornate swords that were kept behind fancy glass cases. Jame almost wished he had an infinite sum of money, because now that he was here, there were quite a few things that he wanted to leave with.

The shop was almost barren. There was a teenaged cat girl waiting behind the counter, and the only other person in the shop was a figure dressed in a trench coat and hat. Jame scowled, the man in the trench coat was dressed as if he had wanted to keep his identity concealed. “He’s probably some kind of convict from somewhere, Jame assumed. “He’s staying hidden because no one would sell to him otherwise...” He knew that no one would be stupid enough to steal from the Bazaar.

However, Jame had no time for potential fugitives. He was there for a set of armor. That had been his initial intention, and so now he was going to take a look at what the people from Sin Nomine had suggested. He didn’t know if he was going to do what they said, but because he didn’t really have any other ideas, he figured he might as well consider their suggestions.

He unfolded the piece of paper that the little crippled boy had given him. It was a drawing of him, and Jame was impressed by how accurately they had drawn his face. “They have been looking at me for a while...” Jame realized. He wasn’t sure whether he was flattered or intimidating by knowing this.

As he examined the paper, he could tell that they had thought about him a great deal. The armor seemed to be a custom design. There were greaves and bracers, both of an indeterminate metal. Both seemed to cover the exact parts of his body where Jame had suffered the most wounds, his forearms and shins. The picture also suggested that Jame purchase a wool overcoat with strategic placements of metal near his heart and sides. There was also a picture of a large morning star with a two and a half foot pole next to the diagram of Jame. The half dragon supposed that Sin Nomine would want him to buy that too.

Jame made his way towards the counter and placed the piece of paper down for the cat girl shopkeeper to see. “What would all of this cost in your basic metals?” Jame asked. “All of it, bracers, greaves, jacket and morning star? I guess just give me damascus, and whatever’s common for the cloth. Wool I guess...”

[nekogirl]

Kate's shop was far from how she wanted it to be. Everything was spotless, and everything was cleanly organized, but that was only because she spent the entire morning cleaning. Every piece of armor and blade of every sword was bright and sharp, while not a speck of dirt could have been seen anywhere. She took a quiet pride in her work, but it was far from complete. The day's customers had started to trickle in, and Kate had to put away much of her duties to attend to them.

Her employer and constant opponent in deciding how the store should be run was away that day. Lionel was a good boss, and a close friend of Kate, but an interesting rivalry was growing between them. Kate owned the store in everything but name itself, and ran it well. However, it was Lionel's backing that kept the store well supplied and even famous for its incredible wares. They would often trade off running the store, shuffling merchandise, layout, and even the shop's logo fairly often.

Still, it was profitable enough, and Kate made more then enough to get by. She knew how to work many of the custom armors in order to edit them slightly to fit a customer, and she was on a first name basis with several excellent blacksmiths. This latest customer's request was curious though. It wasn't often that she had someone buying greaves or bracers. It was smart of him, she had seen enough scars on legs, and not enough legs that ended in a foot.

"Well, you could just pick the morningstar out yourself sir," Kate smiled. She was a smaller girl, and wasn't really one to ever fight. Lionel had gotten her a special weapon from Alerar that she kept under the table in case of overly rowdy customers. A vampire had nearly killed her once, and Lionel had resolved to make sure that she could defend herself the next time. She trailed and twirled her finger on the table, her mind doing the math for the rest.

"I believe it is about 1700 gold for the rest sir. Though I will need some time so that way the armor can be modified to look like what you want."

[Call me J]

1700 gold pieces was more than Jame had. However, he was confident that once that his equipment was made that he could make some kind of negotiation that would satisfy the cat girl. Until then, she would be reluctant to make it at all. He figured he looked like he was richer than he actually was at the moment, and so she would have no problem building his things on credit. At the very least, Jame wouldn’t volunteer a downpayment until asked.

“That’ll be fine then,” Jame said. He smiled at the cat girl and then moved away from the counter, ostensibly to look for a morning star. Jame actually had a different plan. He was going to make sure he got his discount, and he would get it by doing what he did best; flirt. That, and hope that the little crippled boy had the intention of making up the rest of the funds.

Jame moved his way over towards a collection of steel weapons in a barrel. None of them really matched the weapon he was looking for. He could see an example of his weapon head on a chain, but that wasn’t what he wanted. The weapons weren’t his goal though, he just wanted to keep himself occupied while he got himself in the good graces of the merchant.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing working behind a counter?” he asked. “And by the way, you can call me J, not sir. What’s your name?”

Jame wasn’t paying attention to the shop or the weapons, and he accidentally brushed against the man with the turned up collar. The half dragon apologized, but the man only grunted in a response. Jame was surprised that the man had been able talk to him without showing his face, but didn’t think too much of it. He had already decided that the man was a fugitive.

“How long you gonna be here?” the man asked.

Jame was a bit surprised that the man had spoken to him, but he still replied. “A while I guess...” he said. “Gotta wait for stuff to be made, you know.”

The man groaned. Jame just shrugged and turned his attention back towards the weapon. He saw a large blue morningstar that met his description, and he looked at longingly. He knew there was no way he could flirt with the cat girl enough to get that weapon.

A few seconds later, Jame had noticed that the man in the trench coat had headed over to the counter. The half dragon wasn’t going to pay much of any mind until he heard five very bad words. “Your money or your life...”

“Shit!” Jame realized. “He’s not a fugitive, just a goddamn thief.” He spun around, his sword drawn.

“I’m not letting you leave!” Jame said. The moment he said it, he wondered why. Maybe it was because he wanted to impress the merchant, or because the man in the turned up collar had been rude to him, but Jame realized that while both of those things were strong incentives, he needed a different logic.

“Oh just take whatever you want and leave,” the thief shot back.

Jame realized then why he was staying in the shop. It was because while he wanted nothing more than to spend his days in opulence, he couldn’t let this injustice pass before his eyes without doing anything.