Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-32420582-20150308095306/@comment-5583506-20150310020446

As soon as Rashka was finished redressing he immediately felt alone again. His ever-burning hunger for the female form couldn't be sated. If he didn't get to bed at least one sweet girl under the course of two days, he would get grouchy. And when he got grouchy, he started trouble. It usually took the form of bar brawls, or would-be ruffians with broken bones or one or two lost members or digits.

He knew there was something wrong with him. Deep inside... He believed that he was unable to love, even though he wanted to. Yet everytime he set his eyes on a new woman and got her on her back, he was bored with her already, and instead wanted someone else. It was as if he was... looking... for someone, and was merely testing his way through countless of women as he did.

Everytime he tried to analyze himself, he usually got scared whenever he believed that he was close to finding an answer as to what the problem was. He would therefore not continue to look for it. For now, he was happy to drown his sorrows in the warm embrace of another woman.

He descended down a staircase on the back of the building and adjusted the curved daggers in his belt before heading out in the nightly, crowded city streets. His head was still slightly spinning after the pleasurable orgasm with the sweet... Sanji? Sonja? Sansa? He had already forgotten her name, as usual... Not because he wanted to, but because he couldn't. That was his problem indeed.

Unable to love... He shuddered at the thought.

He entered the Brazen Cat, an inn much to his liking. It had cheap drinks, spicy food, soft music, sweet skooma and easy girls. Ma'Shadi was the name of the woman running the place. She was very pretty. She had golden brown fur and a pair of eyes stained with indigo.

Rashka had once tried to bed her as well, but the very same night when he had been about to enter her for the first time, they had been distracted by bandits starting a brawl at the inn. Rashka had to fight them off armed with a rusty flagon, while wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of stolen iron boots. That had been an enjoyable memory. Shortly after that unfortunate event, the same thing happened to him as they usually did with women he had made love to: he had lost interest. Since then he had never thought of her as nothing more than a close friend. He hadn't even pictured her naked, as he usually did whenever he was scanning a room for new girls.

Somehow, he would say that Ma'Shadi was in a way unique among women.

"Good evening, Rashka", she purred as she cleaned the counter. "What can Ma'Shadi offer you this time?"

"Khajiit would like some wine. You pick the sort", he sighed and sat down by the counter.

He really needed this drink now. It was the only that and skooma which could get him on better thoughts instead of analyzing himself... since he knew it was a hopeless case.

One would need to be a bloody mage or some archivist in order to figure out what's going on in Rashka's mind, he reflected.