Avatar of Afro Samurai
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    1. Afro Samurai 9 yrs ago
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9 yrs ago
Don't leave me, baby! Middle of winter, I'm freezin' baby! - It's cold, and Gucci Mane lyrics work for most any context when slightly edited.

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That twang in her voice threw him off. He was so used to the prim and elegant forced dialects of the upper nobility from his own home. It was nice to have a chat with one of the commonfolk. Register? Good thing she mentioned it, or he wouldn't have known he had to; now, he wasn't going to. Maybe it'd add some spice to his life, being a rogue caster wasn't the worst thing that could happen--although it was probably time to invest in, no, steal some gloves.

"Must be a working lady, huh?" He was ignorant to the double entendre such a phrase may imply. He thought she was just playing up the whole 'I'm an innocent belle' trick. He'd never met an innocent belle and didn't believe they existed. If she did have a job, he wondered what it was. He'd bet if he asked her and she was hush about it, she'd have lied right to his face--and if not? Well, there goes his dream of having his very own partner in crime.

@Yomojo
"'The Golden Boys?'" the name rang comic in his ears. He couldn't help but scoff and chuckle at the childish name. How could any respectable company of bladesman call themselves "Golden Boys?" Part of Mazone wondered how many "golden shower" puns their adversaries had thrown their way over the years.

But he was in need of work, and he didn't have many other skills--damned military fathers. Of course... maybe? He'd try it, there was no harm in asking. Besides, she'd appeared to loosen up around him from what he could read, which is generally where he wants people to be when around him. He never worked well with someone who really was a dark and brooding type.

"What about you, love? Do you have anything for a man like myself? Hell, we could form our own mercenary company..." another one of those intentional and stoccato beats.

"...put our gifts to good use." A knowing ring hung in the air alongside his words; it had a weight that indicated its heaviness, a weight that made it apparent he had been waiting to out her for some time.

@Yomojo
All his prying was futile, a trivial pursuit he liked to engage in with strangers just to see if he could really trust him. Lucy's growing boredom fenced his judgement of her as such: she had the veneer of someone who thought herself mysterious, but all it took was a bit of dragging to get her to come right out with things.

Or maybe Mazone wasn't that intuitive.

He quite needed help, lest he spend the rest of his days wandering this large land without any aim. He had been a wandering bladesman for too long, hired out too the gamut of smugglers, priestesses, noble lords, and peasants. He was rather sick of wandering, and he wanted some fixation, some purpose--just like everyone else he supposed. His hazel eyes fell on Lucy again.

"Love, where can a man like myself find work in a place like this? I want romance; I want to fall in love; I want to leave a ma--" he had almost broken into song before he caught himself. A clearing of the throat and an adjustment of his coat brought him back to reality. He was already wearing a long bright coat, he wasn't going to let people think he had bad fashion and a questionable singing voice.

"I'm looking for work. I want to know who you know."

@Yomojo
@Flamelord Wolverine likes to eat.
"Depends on what kind of story you want to hear, love. Should I begin with how remarkable I am with a blade? How no man can out-maneuver me in a waltz? Or should I begin with how I am the rugged wanderer type who just wants to prey on the weak?"

His intonation marked his play. There was no air of urgency in his voice, no trail of secrecy either. He was giving her a hint of truth with words spoken, but curtaining them beneath the shrill of mystery. The act may run dry soon, but for now, he just wanted to see how many strings he could pull. Pulling strings was always fun, though he figure he'd better move this whole meet and greet along somehow. But first he would see what she had to say, to see how long he could hold her interest--it would help him get a handle on how easy it was to keep her dependent on half-truths, and should the time come--lies.

@Yomojo
@Tergonaut Beefed up his backstory a little more to include his interaction with the head of Cybertronics and his reason for staying in Faiza. I also opted to do away with the specialization and keep the broad specifications of his power.
(Rögdûl the Red Chief, Fortress Gloria, Nightfall.)

Upon the horizon they came, when daylight was dim and night loomed overhead. The Red Chief, his advisor, and his Hand, guided along dusty sands by horse hooves. Clatter gave way to neighs and the straddling of reigns as the Chief drew his warhorse--which was even larger than the other abnormally massive beats--to a stop. He was the fist to dismount, followed by his sister and Warchief, Aylob. She was dressed in lighter armor, but equipped with a variant of ranged weaponry and plated armor that covered the joints where arrows can easily pierce and cause significant joint damage. Nehrakgu wore his typical wizard robes.

Up to the gates Rögdûl went, and it is there he stood. He and his company were surrounded by some hundred men, and the Chief gave a sneer to all of them, though not one befitting aggression or fear--one that told them he could rip limbs from arms faster than they could draw sword or knock bow. All in jest, of course. He folded his elephantine arms across his box-square chest, and waited for the Tyrannus to speak first. He was, after all, a long way from home and didn't quite feel like fighting his way through a swarm of soldiers to get back. Not to mention the arrows and shivs he'd have to pull out; such an image made him shutter from annoyance rather than real worry.

"We have come. You know what we request."

The Chief fell silent--he had all the time in the world.
@Sini I take it this means I must write a full biography. :(. I was intending to leave it as since it sums up the major plot points for him.
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