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Raziel Master of Shadows's avatar

Unforgiving Soldier

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Raziel Hale
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Cracking his neck as she would seemingly storm off. He would chuckle to himself as he would look to the bartender before shaking his head as he would reach for the tankard again although the bartender would move to place his hand upon the tankard, Although Raziel would move his hand back down to his blade as the bartender would remove his hand. Letting a cold smirk pass his lips as he would give the bartender a nod before taking the tankard, he would slowly bring it up to his lips before dropping it again. He would then slide it over to the bartender before reaching down and taking off his coin pouch before setting it upon the bartop. For the tab my good man, and also for a room for the night.

The bartender would sigh softly before taking the coin and giving the samurai a key to the furthest room away from the thief's room. Although Raziel would slip the key into his pocket, he would pull out a small diamond and place it upon the bartop and give the bartender a slow nod. Take this to the redhead within the morning and give her my room. I think this is what she was speaking of, although I do not care. I wish for that information. The bartender would slowly look the gem over and then give the samurai a slow nod again. The samurai would then slowly nod as he would chuckle abit. His dark gaze would land upon the bartender before he would slowly get up and move to the stairs before heading to his room for the night.
Darkness _Chains's avatar

Original Humorist

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★_★【Mason The Lycanthrope "Noble"】★_★

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A sleight of laughter echoed within the slightly narrow halls of the upper level of the tavern, obviously belonging to a female of sorts. Her fill of irony and sauntering gazes were only for the productive nights, and lust filled mornings. However, her professionalism needed some work, and what better a teacher than Mason? No one. Another man stood beside him, while he leaned with his back against the wall, and explained several terms to go over. Mason's eyes hid under his hood, the new wardrobe to disguise his nobility and appear the commoner. His sword held within its own sheathe, the golden tipped rod placed on his hip/ He simply observed from the back wall, silent, and in denial. His recent transformation had left him with extreme guilt, the knowledge of having lost control now tampering with his human self. Recent memory had been cleansed, though the senses of battle and the taste of blood lingered strongly. He crossed his arms as the two chatted amongst themselves, realizing that his friend was only an acquaintance, trying to persuade the lady to be bedded. He could see it wouldn't happen, since the girl only replied with snide comments and subtle rejection methods. It was then did she look to Mason, and wondered what was going on in the Lycan's mind. "Hey, Mace... something the matter? You looked depressed, or something." She wasn't too far off, though her curiosity was only granted the opportunity of confusion. "I... changed, today. Earlier." He replied, refusing to make any form of eye contact.

Both friends gasped simultaneously, almost alerting Mason of the severity of his words. They questioned whether or not if he remembered his beastly events, or if he could feel any residual pain. He denied both questions, as it was still a sensitive subject. Despite Mason' lack of memory, he could still see flashes throughout his beat mind, the lycan the looking up to see a woman heading up the stairs. The area around him slowed, only his heartbeat being the sound and feeling having to rush through him. However, what felt like minutes only lasted a split second, his eyes flashing brightly as the scent of a familiar individual filled his nose. It was easily recognizable, though he deftly avoided dwelling upon it. Memories usually led to stress-induced transformations, ones he could seldom control. He shook his head slightly, and jarred his mind from the red headed woman who seemed to drunk to think straight. he could tell she was intoxicated, just by the way her movements were slowed, as assumed her reaction time as well. He took the opportunity to hide his eyes, lest the female notice and doing anything to provoke his involvement. he hoped that she would simply get to her room, and sleep, as everyone else who came upstairs to do... among other things.


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Darkly_Lustful's avatar

Shirtless Smoker

(( I apologize, but i have to leave this rp. I have too many things going on at this time. Hope it all goes well. ))
Raziel Master of Shadows's avatar

Unforgiving Soldier

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A smirk would cross the samurai's lips as he would slowly crack his neck as he would slowly move to the door of his room for the night. Sitting down upon the bed, he would slowly take off his jacket as well as his top. Although his back was indeed facing the door, anyone could see the many scars from where he had. been cut and whipped in his training as well as from his many fights. His eyes would close as he would slowly untye the sash that kept his sword upon his person although he would keep it close to him


As he would lay down upon the bed and close his eyes, he would almost immediately fall into a deep sleep, although for the half demon, sleep for him was anything but peaceful. Dark, demonic dreams always seemed to haunt him, and even his demonic blood would boil within his body. He saw himself once more, tied to a pole as his back was once more bare. A large man with a black hood would crack his whip as Raziel would flinch as the man would crack his whip and drive the thin horse hairs upon his flesh, as the hairs would graze his body, the man woild crack the whip, driving the soft hairs into sharp razors as Raziel would flow with the black blood that ran through his veins. His entire being wanted to cry out, plead for the man to stop, although he willed himself to stay strong. Soon within his dreams he heard the snarl of the creature that he had fought this night. The werewolf would chuckle as he gripped the whip within his palm and drive the leather of the whip, right before the tip of the horse hairs, across his back, leaving gapping bloody wounds upon his flesh. Each night dreams of this nature would haunt him, although no one knew of his eternal torment.

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