NaraK — Roleplayer Guild

Bang Constantine

Sasaki laughed.

Bang remained quiet, wondering what was funny. He thought about opening his mouth and spitting out the words "Ha ha ha," but then he remembered that his father told him not to forcefully smile. Bang was apparently one of the last people in the entire planet- or perhaps, the last person- who should ever laugh forcefully, for his forced laughter had never gone unnoticed. Even now, his father would sometimes mention out of the blue, "Laugh when you really need to." And every now and then, Bang would forcefully laugh, and his father would cringe and fall over his rocking chair like a ragdoll hit by a wrecking ball.

Thus, Bang let a small puff of air come out of his nose instead.

"Bang Constantine," Bang said, not minding the fact that he was called Fighter-kun. He did find the nickname interesting, however, as he had actually heard of it before. He remembered someone calling him that, only to have one of his friends suddenly bolt up and grab the man by his shoulders screaming "Get yo shit together bro!"

Bang blinked before turning to Sasaki.

"Hi, Sasaki-san," Bang said, a strange lisp leaving his words when he said '-san'. 

And thus, he fell silent again, occasionally glancing at Sasaki and the auditorium.

"...We could go somewhere else," the boxer mentioned abruptly, noticing that talking in a nearly empty auditorium might make them look sad.

____________________________________________________

Cain End'rana

Problems with lone, solid answers were the bane of those who could not find such solutions.
 
Normally, there were multiple answers to many kinds of problems. Unless one were required to specifically follow mathematical rules and formulas to solve a simple problem, there were very few cases where only one answer was viable to solve a problem. Ranging from politics, economic, and even beliefs of anything, the bad choices people tended to make did not come from stupidity, but from the inability to see flexibly.
 
Thoughts by themselves are weaker than actions. Together with the ability to turn a thought into reality, thoughts become gifts to be feared.
 
Evil came from thoughts, not from actions. For evil actions come from evil thoughts. Good caused by evil was twisted, evil caused by good had nonsensical reason.
 
A man with a jet-black hood entered a Chinese restaurant. Most of his face was covered by the hood, and his hands rested within the pockets of his long, dark coat. His crimson pants blended well with the dark colors of the rest of his clothes.
 
The previous night, he ran into little luck and met the Elements of Conner. While he certainly did not mind killing more of its members, he knew he had to find the organization that now stood as one of the strongest groups to lead society’s dark side. The Elements of Conner could be dealt with much later, despite its reputation for being fearsome in its own way at times.
 
He killed quite a lot of people now that he thought about it. The path to truth was, perhaps, not the most righteous one.
 
“A seat for one,” the End’rana growled quietly, and the receptionist hastily let one of the waitresses lead him to a table. The restaurant was not that expensive from what he remembered; in fact, this was his third visit within a whole month. He enjoyed eating at places that either had few people or too much people, as both situations allowed him to blend in when he needed to hide. After all, he was still recognized as an enemy of society.
 
So why did he move outside at daytime? To search for clues.
 
Since he roughly knew the territories of certain organizations that he encountered before, Cain End’rana had only a decent amount of trouble in finding suspicious things he wanted to look for. Once in a while, he would meet a particularly strong leader of an organization’s division and beat some information out of them. Cain fought, all the while avoiding the government to continue his ruthless journey in killing criminal scums and getting information out of the blood he painted the ground with.
 
No, he did not need to think about killing innocent people. He knew when to judge one’s innocence, and none of the organizations’ members were morally humane. But at last, he did need to go through the trouble of killing men and women alike. His interest in the opposite sex never did seem to take a prominent part of his emotions, as he found no trouble in slaying them. After all, in the end, every single person he killed were scum in some way.
 
“What would you be having for today?” The frightened young waitress asked with a small notepad in one hand and a trembling pen in the other. She seemed to remember facing the dark-haired Hybrid once.
 
“…”
 
Cain glared at the menu once before looking up at the wall. He intentionally avoided gazing into the waitress’s eyes. The man himself was aware of the fact that he did not look like the most beautiful person in the planet, and that he had strangely intimidating looks. His looks may have been influenced by the cacophonic life he had to endure for eighteen years.
 
“…Water. Two cups of water and black bean noodles.”
 
Fearfully scribbling down his words with haste, the waitress asked, “Is there anything else you would like…?”
 
“…No.”
 
The waitress bowed and told the man that his order would come out as quickly as possible, but he personally gave zero craps about the speed of his food being made. What he minded was the quality of what he ate. If it tasted like true crap, he would get pretty angry, but even then, he would pay for the food. Not everyone had lives that brought so much pain to themselves, but he knew that no one enjoyed gaining little from working a lot.
 
Cain envied his brother, Abel Armatross. Unlike him, his brother had the chance to live in a proper and organized society before finding Cain and becoming determined to kill the injustice that controlled a majority of Cain’s life. He even had a surname, unlike Cain... though it was given to him by his uncle, who did not know of Cain's parents that well. Unlike Cain, his brother was not able to fight. His physical endurance was horrible, and his magic was mostly related to intelligence that could help him in a bright society.
 
At one point, Cain threatened Abel to stay out of his business to protect him. His brother, however, persisted and ignored the warning, claiming that though he knew little about what he was jumping into, helping the last of Armatross’s family should not have been the last thing he should think about doing.
 
Abel’s presence made Cain’s life a bit more bearable. No matter how grateful he tried to be, however, he could not help but remain tense. He lived too long to not know about the surprises the world sometimes had for him. He should have died much earlier, and now the underground syndicates were paying the price for it.
 
One day, he wished to live without the desire to slay worthless men. One day, he wanted to live in a dream that he would never be able to live in until he died. He longed for the warmth of families; the one warmth he never felt. For now, he only felt warmth from the blood that spilled from the bodies of those who got in his way. He was a live killing machine with good intentions. The world had no need to keep atrocities like him for long.
 
Thinking about it made him feel… angry. The idea that he lived a life much more horrible than many others. Despite how much he hated to admit it, however, he believed that him taking on a horrible life would preserve the innocence of others.
 
And he found that belief to be so stupid and so unrealistic… yet so comforting to think of.
 
Thinking in silence proved to drain away time quickly. Soon, the waitress returned with a tray with two glasses of water and a bowl of black bean noodles.
 
“Here is the meal,” she said, barely able to hide the nervousness behind her voice. “If there is anything you want, please ask us.”
 
“…Yeah.”
 
Cain nodded, letting the woman scurry off as he devoured the black bean noodles within two minutes.
 
A decent meal.
 
The man spent time pondering as he drank out of his glasses of water quietly. He soon stood up from the table he ate at, only to pay at the front desk.
 
“Thank you very much! Please come again,” the receptionist systematically recited a line with fake enthusiasm.
 
Cain never turned around as he left the restaurant. Soon, he vanished from the public, waiting and observing until he could strike at nighttime once more.

Sangue Naga – Survival

Sangue raised her blade by her waist when it was apparent that more Grimm would appear. Though she did initially try to simply decapitate the Grimm, she felt haste in her actions. The woman still had room to improve, and she knew that she needed to improve in order to keep up with her classes under certain disadvantages.

A sigh escaped her lips, but it directed neither to herself or anyone else around her. She sighed at the sight of Grimm rushing in. Glancing at her surroundings, Sangue slowly walked over to a man wielding twin blades (Daniel) as she decided to use him to gain an advantage over the Grimm. Not that she saw him as incompetent or a tool, but she herself needed someone to watch her back, as she had to focus on full offense if she were to ever be useful with a single arm.

The woman then encountered an Itzamna that flung itself towards her. Startled by the sudden appearance of the Grimm, Sangue slashed through it effortlessly with her blade. She managed to kill several of the weak creatures before something odd happened.

When she threw the Apophis Claw at one of the Itzamna, it latched itself onto the claw.

And when she tried to pull the claw away, one-by-one, more and more Itzamnas gathered around the claw, latching onto it.

She had the basic gist of what was going to happen next, and she did not like it. Since the Apophis Claw was connected to her body, if she was unable to pull it away from something…

Sangue felt her body swing forward as the Itzamnas knocked her off her feet by tugging at the Claw. Gritting her teeth, the woman felt her body slowly getting dragged away from where she initially stood. With desperation, Sangue plunged her sword onto the ground, momentarily stopping her from getting dragged. It was hard to forcefully tear away the Claw from her, but it was still essentially a limb to her.

“…Help,” she muttered, albeit a bit loudly. The sword trembled as she held onto it. Sangue remained calm and waited for any kind of assistance.

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