Post by Jacques Arden Kemp on Aug 28, 2011 6:00:42 GMT -5
Jacques had never exactly been normal. The last in the long line of famous swordsmen, he represented a near millennium of skill and type. Added to this was a code of honor that damn near made him a knight without actually being one. Not that he was a fan of them, such as they were. Arrogant, self-centered sons of back street door sleepers the lot of them. But nonetheless here he was.
As the uncontrollable chaos of the Marketplace poured around him, Jacques simply took his time between the stalls observing what was for sale and occasionally talking to the store owners. His frock coat, kept in pristine condition made him stand out amongst the crowd and attracted a lot of attention from those around him. The last and only gift from an uncaring father, the Swordsman kept it as a constant reminder that he wouldn't end up a lonely old fool like the man who raised him. Adding to the interest in him was the sword attached to his side, his right arm casually resting on a polished hilt. Off setting this was his shirt, which was covered in dirt and food stains which spoke of a man who had traveled for a long time.
Many speculated that he was a young man run away from a rich home looking to become a soldier, or maybe some noble out for a flight of fancy. Whoever they thought he was, he certainly seemed to be genuinely interested in those around him and oblivious to any of the rumors that were flying around. While he wasn't quite looking for anything in particular he hoped that something interesting would turn up to catch his eye.
As the uncontrollable chaos of the Marketplace poured around him, Jacques simply took his time between the stalls observing what was for sale and occasionally talking to the store owners. His frock coat, kept in pristine condition made him stand out amongst the crowd and attracted a lot of attention from those around him. The last and only gift from an uncaring father, the Swordsman kept it as a constant reminder that he wouldn't end up a lonely old fool like the man who raised him. Adding to the interest in him was the sword attached to his side, his right arm casually resting on a polished hilt. Off setting this was his shirt, which was covered in dirt and food stains which spoke of a man who had traveled for a long time.
Many speculated that he was a young man run away from a rich home looking to become a soldier, or maybe some noble out for a flight of fancy. Whoever they thought he was, he certainly seemed to be genuinely interested in those around him and oblivious to any of the rumors that were flying around. While he wasn't quite looking for anything in particular he hoped that something interesting would turn up to catch his eye.