Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-203.118.166.141-20131124055428/@comment-90.229.185.239-20140602164654

Ah, this one thinks this is a good time to talk, yes? Ra'Tash is me, the one of unlucky wit~ Ah, but it is nothing but a nickname. Stupid, nay-sayer-nords doubted Ra'Tash' skill in all things magical, but that age is long past. Many ages are long past, Ra'tash thinks! Is true, no? Past is the age of when Khajiit brethren and.. Sisthren were known only for their Skooma and illegal activities!


 * Ra'Tash smiles pleasantly, baring his Khajiit fangs. Despite the smile, he would not at all look like the type that smiles; his eyes hidden under a black cowl that run downs his spine, branching out into a ragged, thick cloak around his lighter, sweeping robes, tattered by the harsh gusts of Skyrim. His eyes shiny brightly.. Or well, one of them. The other is not seen at all, only a scarred eyebrow then the cheek. Whatever wound he once had, it had now festered, been cut off, festered again, rotted some, become diseased, grew it's own sapient brain, tried to overtake Khajiitivity, but failed and was left as a grim warning to all that you should clean, alternatively cauterize, your wounds before accidents such as this shining example happens. It looks diseased, Vile and long dead, should you get a good look at it.. But despite all this gruesome information, Ra'Tash smirks proudly, not at all fitting the robes he wears with his short, meek statue*

Oh, may Ra'Tash take a seat? One becomes weary, standing in the corner, yes?

((-- Roadkill))