Bread Bandit

Max: 546

It was a good day for business finally. The streets still had a fair amount of people picking over what was left in the market stalls as the city darkened. Once it finally grew quiet and peaceful, the lights to the bakery went off. The owner, a stout silver-haired man walked to the front of the store jingling a set of keys and happily whistling away. Emotions were high as he locked the shop shut. The register was his next destination to count out the total he had brought in from this days sales. Just as he pulled out the cash he paused, and listened. It sounded like something tapping on the back window. Hopping down from the stool-
CRASH.
He flinched at the sound of glass shattering against the wooden floor in the kitchen area. His heart jumped to his chest as one of his biggest fears just turned into a hellish reality. He had to act fast. The baker thrust the money in a different drawer and in an act of courage, he dashed to the side of the counter and snatched an old broom before rushing to the swinging doors. There, the baker stopped and caught his breath. Coming from the kitchen was a low mumble before a soft humming voice.
What could someone possibly want with his store? They were a poor family, money was hard to come by, even busy days didn’t result in much. Okay, now he was ready.
One strong kick sent the doors flying.
“What’re you doin in MY store!” He yelled, but then his soul nearly left his body at just who was standing there.
“Are… are you a demon-“
“Demon?” A dark, towering figure with long curling horns stood silhouetted by the light filtering in from the broken window. It was winter; and steam rolled off his shoulders from his sweat covered shirt. “Some’thin like that.”
This demonic looking man turned and began taking leftover loaves off the cooling racks and stuffing them into his mouth.
“HEY!” The baker shouted and ran forward. “Can’t just TAKE those the hell are ya doing! Get outta my store!”
“Oh- right.” The intruder reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of crumbled change then threw it over at the man.
“Wha- that’s not even close! Ya broke my window! Why are ya breaking into my shop!”
“Hungry.” The thief replied.
“Oh no- GET. OUT.”
The baker wound up with the broom and with all his light he struck the intruder against the back. It hit something metal beneath the tall man’s shirt and splintered into pieces.
A silence fell. Turning slowly, the mage’s eyes began to glow red.
“Did ya jus’ hit me?”
“Oh- oh, okay uhm- listen….” Instantly the baker saw his mistake. Fear created a shaking in his knees when the rest of the broom in his hand turned into dust. He turned and ran to the front of the store.
The baker didn’t seem to get quite to the door before a large hand snatched him off the ground and threw him against the glass. Spiderwebbed cracking exploded against the main window.

“P-please no no, please- I have a family no.no no-!”
“Jus’ wanted some dammed bread.” The beast of a thief growled.

Jura: 485

Nightfall was always his favorite time of day, even if it was cold as hell outside. Winter wasn’t any kinder to him then it was to the other stragglers rushing home in the night, but Jura at least had a warm coat to cover himself. The rest of his garb even covered the entirety of him save his green and blue mismatched eyes- visible sometimes through the dark sockets of an owl-like mask he was never seen without.

Tonight, he expected to just meander around for a few hours. See what was happening in the town. Make some notes to pass along to The Mar if it was relevant. Perhaps it would just be quiet-

He was about to think when a loud crash had his head swiveling to face down an alleyway. Eyes flitting upwards to a sign on the main road. A bakery? Was someone seriously robbing a bakery of all places? It wasn’t even a particularly well off one. He’d spied on a good number of businesses here anyways. Poor family, like most. Surely nothing of value was to be had.

Carefully, quietly, Jura set off down the alleyway. Eyes keen for any movements in the dark. The moonlight illuminating the source of the noise like shards of silver. A splash of shattered glass across the cobblestones. Shouting drifting from the hole in the window. Stooping, the rogue picked up a decently sized piece, holding it flat against his wrist to conceal what could certainly be construed as a weapon. Probably not for whomever was robbing the poor baker. It was for himself, a necessity.

Without further delay, Jura climbed through the broken window in turn, warily finding the frame to be devoid of sharp little dangers. Whomever had entered previously must have been a beast of a man. This could easily be a problem he had to run from, but Jura was a good natured fellow, he at least needed to make some attempt to diffuse the situation and save a fellow peasant.

Inside, the bakery was dark. Faintly smelling of cooling bread mingled with the acrid scent of sweat. The rogue wrinkled his nose beneath his mask and continued with mindful steps- clinging to shadows left from the moon. In the front of the building he spotted the assailant- gripping the baker and holding him aloft. The poor fellow’s feet dangled from where he’d been tossed against the glass pane and held captive.

Jura flipped his little shard of glass forward in his hand- swinging it to his opposite arm to pierce the leather of his armor and draw blood. It glittered like an opal as it pooled out, influenced by his magic to form into crystalline shards itself. Without needing to touch these, he flung one as a warning at the window. Sending the spider-webbed glass outwards and hopefully having the thief drop the baker out the other side.

Max: 235

“O-okay you can take the bread- yes just take it I’m sorry just/ take it-“ the older baker stammered with wide fearful eyes.
Before his thief could make much of a reply, something went whistling past their ears and thunked into the window. Into a million pieces it went and the shards fell away like sprinkling rain. The thief fell forward and nearly stumbled through the window, throwing the baker is what saved him and let him find his footing. He felt quite a few little sharp glass pieces stuck into his forehead. All this commotion had caused a few people to gather, much to his disliking.
“Great.” He mumbled under his breath.
So, back to his problem at hand. Something he swore, had been thrown from behind him. The tall man stood up and brushed himself off to look back into the darkness where his eyes were well adjusted. There between the front of the store and the kitchen was a masked figure cloaked head to toe. The thief didn’t appreciate that at all, was this attacker even real? Time to find out.
“Don’be lookin for a fight here…”
Next to him was a bistro table and tipped over chairs… so he picked up the smaller table.
“Y’won’t like what ya find.” Gathering his might, threw it at the figure in the dark. He hoped the image didn’t fizzle out as it sometimes did.

Jura: 241

Mission partly accomplished. As Jura had hoped, the window shattered outwards and sent the baker through and to the ground outside. He was even delighted to find the thief thrown off balance. Hopefully the man had a bit of sense to him and cleared out before his assailant regained his composure and resumed his torment, though as Jura watched outside he noted a few gathering onlookers. Likely drawn by the commotion and shouting. That much wasn't good, nor was the small table that hurtled in his direction. Forcing him to return his eyes to the immediate area and the bulky man before him.

Jura dived to the right and behind the nearby counter, rolling on his shoulder and back to his feet in a fluid motion. Watching silently as the thrown table hit the wall with a loud clatter and soon found its way to the ground. As much as Max would expect the rogue to vanish, he certainly did not and instead stood up tall, staring directly at him. Maybe this guy wasn’t the smartest.

Keeping his eyes on the man, Jura retreated- walking backwards the same way he’d come along until he was forced to turn around and jump out the first shattered window. The back alley would be a better place to deal with this thug. Less eyes, and if push came to shove, Jura knew he could scale the wall and up to the roof easily enough.

Max: 204

Mission partly accomplished. As Jura had hoped, the window shattered outwards and sent the baker through and to the ground outside. He was even delighted to find the thief thrown off balance. Hopefully the man had a bit of sense to him and cleared out before his assailant regained his composure and resumed his torment, though as Jura watched outside he noted a few gathering onlookers. Likely drawn by the commotion and shouting. That much wasn't good, nor was the small table that hurtled in his direction. Forcing him to return his eyes to the immediate area and the bulky man before him.

Jura dived to the right and behind the nearby counter, rolling on his shoulder and back to his feet in a fluid motion. Watching silently as the thrown table hit the wall with a loud clatter and soon found its way to the ground. As much as Max would expect the rogue to vanish, he certainly did not and instead stood up tall, staring directly at him. Maybe this guy wasn’t the smartest.

Keeping his eyes on the man, Jura retreated- walking backwards the same way he’d come along until he was forced to turn around and jump out the first shattered window. The back alley would be a better place to deal with this thug. Less eyes, and if push came to shove, Jura knew he could scale the wall and up to the roof easily enough.

Jura: 235

He was certainly being led elsewhere, and out in the less-cramped and considerably more maneuverable space of the alleyways, Jura stood still and waited patiently. Keeping a good distance from the broken out window and himself, assuming where his quarry would appear from if he did follow.

As expected It didn’t take long till the guy climbed right back out of the bakery after him. All cut up by the shattered glass and looking rightfully pissed. Jura couldn’t help but grin beneath his expressionless visage at the sight- If this guy was smart, he would have just left after being caught in the act, or when witnesses had shown up, but clearly…he wasn’t the brightest candle. Jura certainly hadn’t been seen, nor would he have picked the business of someone akin to a beggar to rob. Maybe he wasn’t here for the coin, and instead a bite to eat. That didn’t make any sense. Not when he’d trashed far more than necessary to take what- bagels? A donut? A day old loaf of bread?

“Not very smart are you, huh big guy? Just a bull crashing around in a bakery of all places. You know, if you are that hungry- which I assume you are.. You should have just asked someone for a meal or a few spare gold.” He spoke quietly, hardly over a whisper. Though with the quiet now, one could hear him.

Max: 257

“Listen ya lil’ Rat,” a voice filled with anger roared out at the man. “I DID pay him!”

Where it was impossible for Max to even be remotely quiet, he had to really strain his hearing to pick up the quiet sarcastic tones. It struck some bells in the back of his mind but he was unable to put a face to him. Did he know him from somewhere? It was hard to tell with that mask on. A once-over glance and it was visibly easy to see that this guy simply wanted to cause more trouble than what’s already been started.

“Ya lookin like ya best be mindin’ her own damned business. If I find somethin’ good, I’m eatin’ it.”

The idea of pummeling this punk made his skin crawl despite his blood beginning to boil. Something told him no inside. Having not had a good fight in a while kept him firmly planted there ready to square up. It was an itch he needs to scratch.

He moved forward. Maxin passed beneath a moonbeam where his horns and face had been illuminated by the light. It showed a grizzled face covered in soot and a harshly knit brow. His nose was wrinkled with a sinister grin upon his face. He stopped a foot short.
“Let’s say ya scram, kid.”
The old fighter turned his body to square up his feet. It may have been a few years and his foot work may be a bit rusty but he was still one hell of a fighter.

Jura: 205

Clearly his mask was an owl, not a rat, so Jura huffed in some manner of annoyance. Standing his ground despite the taller figure approaching and posturing. Empty threats, right?

Even if it wasn't just talk, the guy was slow. Plenty of opportunities to work his way out of a grapple. Besides, If push came to shove, he'd already cut himself. The blood was there and ready to be used.

Gesturing to his mask, Jura stepped closer to the man, not wanting to give him any room to wind up a punch and knock him flat on his ass. "I'm a fucking owl. Are you blind too?" Oh, that kinda made it sound like he was trying to be some kind of masked vigilante. Not his goal, by any means- he just wouldn't tolerate being talked down to like a kid.

A handful of copper and pocket lint thrown over a counter hardly counted as paying for anything, especially not two windows and some poor old man's sense of safety. Alas, Jura couldn't do anything to restore that and Instead tried to goad this brute elsewhere. He lifted his palms up and tried to shove the guy when he changed stances. Way outclassed in weight.

Max: 230

“Really pushin’ yer luck there.”

Max’s tail coiled behind him for a second as he very patiently awaited to see if this guy would be the one to throw the first punch or if he would have to go and outright hammer him. His muscles tensed like a trap ready to be sprung. When it came to fighting Max’s age was the last thing that he worried about. He may not hold the speed of a youngster but his many years of fighting had kept him in his prime and ready to let loose. He loved it. So it was a little strange how his opponent was choosing to handle this situation. They certainly weren’t about to brawl, he could sense that already by the way this guy was approaching.

When the palms of this familiar stranger pushed up against Max, the man didn’t budge a step. It was an obvious mistake when cat-like reflexes kicked in and Maxin had suddenly snatched this man’s right arm. With his free hand he grabbed the bottom of the mask with his palm and attempted to shove it off his face. This was way more difficult than it looked for it seemed to have been attached strongly. Like it was glued on or something.

“Get ‘tis thing off yer face so I can punch it in properly.” He growled between his clenched jaw.

Jura: 195

Well, the bulky guy was faster then he looked and Jura sure as hell regretted his stupid little shove. The palm striking his mask didn't so much as make it budge on his face but the blow was followed immediately by the sound of his neck vertebrae popping in a very unpleasant succession, worsened considering Jura was held in place by his right arm.

The mask was too well secured by straps out of Jura's special brand of paranoia. It hid his scars, sure, but was a problem in its own way. The last time it was stuck to his face he almost broke his neck when he fainted, not remembering exactly what happened but knowing he was sore as hell the next day.

He let out a strangled noise of pain following and tried to back up. His arm was still grasped by a firm hand though it was also the same arm he'd injured earlier. The rogue was pinned but that didn't affect his magic in the slightest.

With a hiss, he willed the crystalized blood to pour out, trying to stab into the arm of the stranger. Just enough to be released.

Max: 294

What was he doing- trying to rip some obviously defenseless man’s mask off? Did he seriously think he wouldn have anyone outside of prison that he would know?
You know this guy.
A floating mass of muscles and guts wrapped up in a ball with a floating pair of eyes spoke behind the stranger he held. Max didn’t like that. How could he know this person? If that’s the case, did he really want to hurt him?
Max held back and simply gripped his arm until a sharp sensation jabbed into his bicep. He roared and threw down his catch to look at what he had just jabbed him with.
How- his arms didn’t move, did they? No… they didn’t. It was magic. This was a mage he was fighting. A reflective dagger of smaller size was now sticking out of Max’s forearm. That was the final straw.
Get rid of the mask- The floating blob hissed.
Maxin’s eyes glowed a brilliant red, and the dagger disappeared.

“Magical lil shit- thas cheatin.”
The mask that was glued to his ‘attackers’ face began to thin until it suddenly fell away as a pile of ashy dust.
There- now that he could see who it is-
Remember him? The voice spoke.

The man was younger with pale skin and a pale blue eye, and one green. His face was covered in scarring on his right side, soft blonde hair fell down to his forehead. Max’s expression turned to shock.
“Haha, this some sort’a joke- Jimmy? This boy is DEAD.” Max hollered out before looking back to Jura.
“You are dead… ya?” He took his hand and rubbed his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Great now I’m bein’ haunted by the both of ya.”

Jura: 331

If anyone was going to be face-blind, it was him. Too absorbed in the beginnings of panic to recognize who exactly was holding him captive, yanking his masked face around like a rabid hound trying to snap the neck of a dove.

Fortunately for Jura, his manhandling was an unpleasant but brief bout of terror. Ending with him being discarded to the ground while the other inspected the shimmering present Jura had left lodged shallowly in his bicep. Unfortunately that wave of relief he felt wash over himself was short lived.

Watching with wide bi-colored eyes as the dagger was dissolved like nothing. A  glint of red in the strangers eyes was the only thing that could tip him off to the magic being his own.

If he was a mage all along why the hell did he bust through a window like a common thug- Announcing his petty crimes to half of Faline's nightlife? So many questions flicked through his mind but he clearly had no time to ask any of them.

Somehow, without even moving a finger towards the rogue, the stranger was able to turn his oh so precious facade to ash just as abruptly.
There was no heat that emanated, nor did he detect anything else out of the ordinary before finding his face exposed. The cold of the night air made him grimace as snapped out of his fear and scrambled back to his feet. Putting some distance between the both of them.

"What are you going on abou-" Jura half blurted as he shifted his blood to hide his facial features almost instinctively, the crystal taking on the twisted visage of a bird with far too many eyes. Some small part of him prayed to whatever patron that would listen that he didn't just bite off more than he could chew.

Jimmy. Of all things to make Jura freeze in his tracks, Something he remembered. Jimmy. From the pit. Fucking dead… Max had done it.

Max: 254
It was like some dream where he was filled with rage at the thought that Jura may actually be alive. At least he figured it was rage. He didn’t have many emotions other than being angry or delusions

Realization hit- maybe he needed some sort of connection like, a slap in the face or a good strong pinch. It took him a whole week before he discovered Jimmy was in fact dead and his magic was a ghost form this whole time…but yeah he was definitely dead… now Jura, was he a ghost too? No… well, after he was horribly mutilated he knew there was a slim chance of survival despite helping him the best he could. He remember always feeling the day Jura would be found dead.
Max, he was angry. He was angry all over again at the loss of that kid.

“No yer dead-“ Max hissed at him and backed away. “I WATCHED em take ya away, nd’ya never came back…”
The man turned to his arm now, there was definitely blood, but he shoved a finger into the wound without flinching. The pain was real,  this was real. Jura was still there.
“No.” Max shook his head and gritted his teeth. “What do ya want with me.” He hissed. “Jimmy’s over there tellin me to beat yer ass, so ya must be alive…” His brows fixed into a glare as he watched Jura scurry backwards in some sort of fear.
“How.” Max took a step forward. “Ya be real, yea?”

Jura: 196

Realization was slow, but it stuck Jura all the same. He couldn't help but stare wide-eyed at this apparition- the many eyes on his crystalized facade shifting wildly in turn with his unspoken emotions.

Now there was a face to go with all the fractured memories in his head. He'd liked Max, back when they were both in that damn prison. Mutual trauma, maybe, that brought them together to be friends. Someone who looked out for him despite his failings and frequent bouts of uselessness. A mean guy to most and a fucking wild brawler. Driven mad with the dust in the mines.

"I'm.. clearly-" Jura stammered, backing away again as the man took a step in his direction. He couldn't remember if his magic had a distance of effect and he surely didn't want to stick around and find out. Not when the man said 'Jimmy' wanted his ass handed to him. Jimmy was dead, that was just Max playing pretend, a scapegoat for his own feelings when they were unkind.  

"They dragged me off to a cell." Jura blurted out after a long while of silence, "I got out but I couldn't get back."

Max: 107
“No one, no. One. Comes back from that place.” Max kept walking towards him but his shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Jimmy, can it. Get the hell away for once.” So the twisted ghoulish flesh pile that followed him finally disappeared, and his head was for once quiet.
No- no one ever came back as far as he knew. They were usually put into these cells and completely forgotten about, left to rot, to die alone. He never understood why they were so harsh to the poor kid. Or to anyone… maybe it was just life. Max could count on his hand how many people were kind to him.

Jura: 166

How was he supposed to react in this situation? He couldn’t make someone believe him and really didn’t want to go into more detail about what had happened to him in solitary, or following it when he broke out and ran for his life. So if Max wanted to think of him as another specter, then well, he would just continue with that.

With each step Max took in his direction, Jura took two back carelessly. Or so he did till he bumped right into the wall of the next building- forgetting, like a novice, to keep his eyes on his surroundings as well as on his opponent.

But was Max really an enemy here? Jura wasn’t sure and he really didn’t want to take another chance and end up in a bad way. Perhaps instead of talking and getting himself cornered he should just bolt off down the path and out into the city. Hide for a bit till his heart and his lungs settled.

Max: 64

“So-… you’re real… then,” Max moved forwards and snatched Jura by the arm again but- well. This time he pulled him in and smothered Jura in a giant bear hug, “YOU’RE ALIVE BY THE GOD’S YOU’RE ALIVE.”
Max picked up this poor battered man off the ground and spun him with a deep belly laugh.
“YA LEFT ME IN THE GROUND- thank the GODS!”

Jura: 178

One weird turn of events somehow got even weirder the longer he was around this man. Sure, he had good memories and some bad of course, with him down in the pit- but what was he supposed to make of him now? They hadn’t seen each other in years, though he couldn’t say Max looked too worse for wear. Still a huge brute-

His musings were interrupted by a sudden lurch on the man’s part- grabbing Jura by his arm before he had a chance to snap out of his frantic thoughts and dart away to safety. He expected to find the life squeezed out of him; and squeezed he was, but not in a way that was meant to hurt. Instead of a grapple, this was a… a hug?

Confused and more than a little nervous, Jura half-whispered half groaned as he was spun about and made dizzy- “M-Max-! You’ll make me sick-”  

Was it a good thing that he’d abandoned his friend in that hell? Did he not deserve some kind of punishment for his betrayal?

Max: 202
“Oh- ah right, sorry- Max snorted a laugh and gave Jura another squeeze before putting him back down onto his feet. A big stupid grin spread over his features while he threw his hands to his hips with a shake of his head.
“Where the hell ya been Jura! Better’ve got a helluva story to tell, wanna hear all the details.” Max sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah sorry for yer mask too…”
He stood there and in the distance came the sound of heavy ferry hitting the ground.
“I hear voices down this way!”
“By the bakery, get ready!”
His attention was pulled from Jura to the sound of a few approaching people, he could only assume they would be guards. His muscles tensed again, could he take them on? He wasn’t about to go to prison for a second time…
“Shit-“ he growled but stepped forward towards them anyways, he put himself between Jura and the oncoming people. Maybe he could buy his friend time… if Max got caught, well. Now that he had magic he’d probably be fine at least. It was either that or they ran; he didn’t think his exhausted bones would get him far.

Jura: 243

So far, Max didn’t seem set on murdering him for running off and leaving him in that horrible place, but they also had more problems to worry about then just that. Distantly, from the main road came voices. People Jura knew were attracted by the noise Max had made when breaking the windows, his yelling, and very likely summoned by the baker as well- whom Jura had helped escape.

Fortunately for his recently reacquainted friend, Jura knew this city well. All the good places to hide from guards and the persecution of others- bitterly upset about the loss of his precious mask and his anonymity, but well. He’d just focus on finding a place to hide for a while.

It wouldn’t be safe to run Max all the way back to his house in the Mar. Certainly not so while he still was filled with wary of the man. Thinking him to be playing some game till he had a quiet moment when Jura let his guard down and the opportunity to strangle him. He shivered at the idea and shook it away. Stepping forward to grasp the man’s hand with his own in desperation. “I’ll tell you later- we need to get out of here first.”

He knew a way, and tugged Max’s hand in some hope that he wouldn’t stay and fight. That he wouldn’t get arrested or worse, killed. “Down the alley, this way. Hurry up before they see us.”