Naraca Breaker...The last of his own family...
The man stood at a large 7 feet tall, his powerful, muscular could only be described as a tower of compact strength and power. His long, shoulder length black hair danced lightly with each footstep, it's unkempt, wild style like that of a wild man was mildly cared for. Enough to be clean and not a greasy mess, yet still far from being properly styled. However his face was fully seen due to a red head band he wore that kept the hair away from his face. His once fully clean and smooth face now carried four scars that ran down his face and towards his neck. Stubble decorated his chin and jaw. Around his body was a black tank top that firmly fit around his body, showing the dark skin on his arms, as well as the many scars that were on them as well.
He wore dark blue shorts and a yellow sash around his waist that hung down. He went bare foot, as he often did, the scars showing on the tops of his rough feet and toned calves. Strapped on his back was the sheath to a massive great sword that looked more like it belonged to a giant statue then a man. Yet he carried it on his back like it was a feather.
Walking through Hargeon, his destination was a Wizards Guild. To hire them? No, to be one.
How? He didn't have any magic did he? The earth magic he once used was gone and replaced with...
No, no need to mention it.
He had something festering within his body. Something he kept locked away for years, yet now he knew he had to control it. His magic he never used, his new magic. So in order to use it, and still honor those that have fallen, he had to join a Guild.
He walked closer to it, his face with a look of uncertainty and grimness. Like he was about to do something he might regret, and thinking about his magic brought back memories he didn't care to remember.
He didn't let them run their course, however only small images snuck there way into his mind.
Blood on his hands...The smell of burning flesh...The feeling of...Blonde hair on his hand...
He pushed them as far away as he could.
Lamia Scale...
"There you are..." He mumbled, taking a breath shortly after.
He'd just walk in he thought, walk in, join, do missions, grow stronger and preserve peace, just like Mom, Dad, and Arashi woulda wanted.
Blood on his hands...
Naraca blinked and sharply turned his head to one side, his eye's closed.
"Stop..." He whispered to himself, the memories festering upon even thinking of his magic.
He'd continue walking towards it.
Eventually he walked right towards the doors. He wasn't afraid, no, no fear rested within his heart, for he was too hard, too strong for fear. He let himself be motivated however, he wouldn't be alone here after all, his family would be close with him every step of the way.
The smell of burning flesh...
He placed his hand on the door and pushed it open. Revealed a somewhat filled guild hall that looked more like a giant bar then an official HQ of mercenaries with wands. The sounds of conversation flooded his ears, the thuds of tankards filled with drink hitting the tables. The footsteps on the hard wood floors and the jingling of metal equipment on some of them. Naraca took his time as he slowly walked in, getting a feel for it all.
He certainly didn't know anyone here, however at least he, or at least thought, he found a place he could call home. At least upon further investigation of the place. A Nomad like him could use a home.
There was one girl however, who caught his eye...Yet he didn't quite understand what it was that made him look at her for longer then anyone else...