Recent content by Rahma

An upper ear flicked in annoyance, Rahma slowly cocking his head as he looked at Len, much the same way as he would have if the man had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Balking" didn't even begin to cover the intense confusion and bewilderment that washed over the demi-jackal. Where did Medja...

Rahma watched as Rhix heaved himself over the lip of the Scar, lumbering his way back into camp like it was nothing. Hundreds, to have the strength and sheer fucking balls that guy had. Rahma was shaken from his stupor by the sudden intrusion of...some guy in really nice armor he wasn't familiar...

Some fucking festival. Why was it that, without fail, Rahma kept having to go under-fucking-ground? Lady Medja had been making some big moves as of late. After the last failed attempt at breaching the fathomless trench that was the Scar of Drakormir, the Smiter of Ragash had decided to take...

"Look, I don't--ugh." Every instinct in his body wanted to fight or fly in the face of close contact with this woman, especially given that awful, lingering sensation that had still not worked its way out. But if this was her way of pushing through all that, maybe she had the right idea. He...

The demi-jackal let out a "Tch." "Don't look at me like that." He'd never known someone to refer to literal broken bones as "scrapes" before, but he supposed he'd been through worse. It did seem to him that a winged creature should want to fly, and Noor certainly could not with her wings banged...

Even with that dreadful tingling fading and the realization that the two of them were on the same side, Rahma was still Rahma. As the fox woman approached him, he took one very purposeful step back. "By chance, or if the Mistress put us on assignment together, I guess," he replied, tucking his...

Rahma squinted at Noor. He didn't much care for the insinuation she was making, and he didn't quite know why it bothered him as much as it did. Perhaps because, even for how nice she was, Masika had also teased him about being a spoilsport on occasion. That didn't sit well with him. "Hey. I'm...

All the aggression Rahma felt began to deflate and fall flat the moment he laid eyes on the jeweled pendant the strange woman produced. Her laugh certainly didn't do him any favors either, quite handily taking the wind out of his sails. That obnoxious tingling was still there and he retained his...

What a fucking frustrating answer. "Cut from the same cloth?" What the fuck was that supposed to mean? She was closing now. That bode poorly. Rahma didn't know what this strange woman was capable of, but if she really was like him then the fight that was about to unfold wasn't going to be a...

Ohh, struck a nerve somewhere, eh? He had no idea what had done it, but the little *poof* Noor did just then reminded Rahma of his own hackles raising. Such was the problem of beast-kin, at least: you had more tells than the regular folk. "I'm me. I may not always like it, but it's enough." he...

"Your space?!" he spat. He hunched over, claws forward. Sure, this wasn't Salitra, but how the fuck was this...thing gonna claim the gods-be-damned bazaar to herself? He took a single step forward, his upper ears folding down. "No. Fuck that." So many questions. Why did this woman kinda look...

Rahma sniffed the air. Noor seemed to have her own ways of finding their way out if the way she felt the walls was any indication; Rahma would take to the same task, though on a larger scale. Fresh air had a much different scent to the stale, dusty atmosphere that filled this place. He just...

"'Mortals...'" Rahma parroted, cocking his head as he watched her preen the room for...something. He himself picked up a few pieces of jewelry that suited his style and stuffed them into his loose-fitting top. "So you're...what, an immortal, then?" He made to follow her out, curiosity now...

Their hands met in a dull clap, and Rahma only now realized that he'd held his breath on the way down. Safely over the railing he exhaled heavily, letting the adrenaline course through him a moment before beginning to soak in the new locale, as well as that look of vague mischief the winged...

Every instinct in Rahma's body was telling him to get away, that this feeling was one of warning and not of calling, but he'd not felt anything like it before. The source had to be found. He needed answers. Rahma lifted the melon to his lips to take another bite, but as the buzz grew stronger...