DRESSED UP FOR A HIT AND RUN | Joining (?)

[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

He had hated the desert. He was tired of almost constantly dying of heatstroke as soon as he had stepped out into the sun. It didn't necessarily matter where he went in order to do his business, so staying in the Pitt wasn't something that was necessary. Since the group didn't know how dangerous he was, it meant that he could always return as long as he didn't end up keeping group scents on him. He was a wanderer. He did really whatever he wanted. The thought almost made him chuckle considering that was literally what his name meant. Of course, the name that he goes by now isn't his true name, not even close. But that was the name that everyone knew him in any way. Causing trouble was what he did best, and killing was his calling card for the most part. When he was exploring an island that he had once visited before, he had noticed something that was off in the distance. It was a place that he had never seen before. The creature didn't know what the place was, but from the rumors that he had after monitoring the island, there were some whispers of a group that lived there. Despite his age, Vagabond was curious about what it could possibly be. The creature didn't really have anything better to do at the moment as he was working on finding a place to set up his headquarters to start his business over again. He had to resort back to what he was before he had joined the crew that he had been with before. He had worked alone originally, so it wasn't that much of a stark change. The feeling of loneliness had gone numb a long time ago as he got used to this new world. His appearance had yet to really change all things considered.

The massive hellhound had used his powers to keep his body slightly floating above the water. The temperature in the surrounding area was already a plus compared to the desert where he had spent most of his time. He would still end up avoiding the beaches as much as possible as he hated sinking in the sand with his large body mass. The black beast lowered himself to the ground of the beach, looking at the island he had landed on. It was certainly interesting. Trees were knocked over in multiple places, and debris lay everywhere. Was it true that creatures actually lived here or was it was just something the creature said to spare his life? The Vagabond didn't really think about it at the moment and continued walking deeper into the tropical forest. His ears were perked forward, and his large body wasn't hard to see among the trees as long as they were sparse. The hellhound stood around 6' tall and had a sash that was across his chest and back that harbored throwing knives. The most noticeable feature was the black metal mask that he wore on his face. The shape of the mask wasn't based on any animal, and instead, it was the elongated shape of a human skull. Something that he had worn in his past life. His twin tails swayed in the air, almost into what could be considered a dominant position. The mask made it basically impossible for him to use his sense of smell, so he had to rely on sight and hearing to be able to look for any signs of life. Another strange feature of the hybrid was the scales that ran down from the back of his neck to where his tails attached to his hips. The scales were thick and acted like armor to protect his vulnerable spine. The hellhounds vivid blue eyes were a stark contrast to the rest of the colors of his body. The former mercenary kept his ears on a swivel to listen for anything that could be a threat if there was a group that was living here. If there wasn't, it didn't really matter, as he would find somewhere else to go and try to set up camp.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

[glow=black,1,400]CLEVER GOT ME THIS FAR, THEN TRICKY GOT ME IN ! — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

Caesar had been apart of The Pitt at one point, but likely after Vagabond had joined; or at the very least, the savannah didn't recognize the hellhound whenever he would stumble upon him. The desert was insufferable for sure, the heat unbearable and annoying, rather than providing any sort of advantage - at least to the dream demon. He didn't exactly understand why The Pitt stayed there, but he supposed in a way that was the whole point in staying here: they were hardy and adaptable.

Whenever Caesar noticed a hellhound slinking about, the savannah's dark eyes narrowed as he tried to follow the stranger, debating on whether or not he should attack. The last couple of times he tried to attack trespassers, he had been bitched at by his clanmates. Which... was funny, considering the Condemned was supposed to be a group nobody heard of; how were they supposed to keep that if they let trespassers live? Obviously if they were joining, they would have to prove themselves regardless, so why not prove that in a fight.

Rolling his eyes, Caesar simply decided to jump down from the tree he was hiding in (although whether he was truly 'hiding' was debatable, considering his pelt didn't exactly blend in like the average savannah would), aiming to jump either behind or in front of the Vagabond. "You're in the Coalition of the Condemned's territory, pal." He growled. "State your name and business." Or he certainly would hesitate to fight, and to show this, he unsheathed his claws, as if he were trying to warn their visitor.[glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]

[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

Despite being in this world for as long as he had been, the hellhound still had a couple of things to learn. When he moved away from the groups that he used to hang around with, everything seemed to become somewhat normalized. However, near where the groups were everything seemed to become mutated and warped as strange creatures seemed to enjoy joining these groups for some reason. He was probably considered a hypocrite as he was one of the strange creatures that roamed over these lands. Probably not the strangest thing that existed, but still something a human would consider to almost be entirely impossible. The former mercenary didn't know what he would do if he saw his current form running at him in the city. He would probably try to kill it at first before running for the hills as he valued his life at least a little bit. The assassin was independent for the most part, meaning that he often didn't need other people for his own survival. He didn't care about other's help unless he had no other option. He remembered back in his crew where he had gotten severely hurt, and they were only allowed to help him once he passed out from blood loss. He was fairly certain that was the first time the original crew had even seen his face as he constantly hid it behind a mask. It seemed like the trend of him wearing a mask carried over when he arrived in this strange world. Not that he really minded, the face underneath his mask wasn't any better. Though in a world full of animals that could identify someone by scent it didn't really do much to hide his identity unless he covered his scent up. Which is something he figured out to do with his air elementals by having them surround himself so that he didn't give off any sort of scent.

Vagabond had resided in the Pitt for a very short time. He didn't participate in any events. He had only heard that he was planned to be exiled by a white lion because he killed someone from an allied group. Vagabond didn't care because he was given payment to do such a task. As long as he got paid in what he considered to be valuable in this world he didn't care who he had to kill. It was nothing personal after all. Besides, doing this was the only semblance of sanity that he had in this strange world. Without it he wouldn't know where to turn or even do with his life. Thinking about it made it sound like he was incredibly pitiful. The hellhound didn't have time to dwell on himself too much as he heard something above him in the trees. The large beast knew that he was in an unknown area, meaning that there was a chance for threats. His hearing was heightened to be able to compensate for his lack of smell that would direct him to other living individuals. Vagabond had stopped and started to look up at whatever was in the trees, whether it was sentient or not before he noticed a... yellow blur drop down in front of him. He had gotten used to certain types of creatures in this world. Hell, he had once been attacked by a dinosaur when he lived with a group called the Rosebloods. At least he thought it was a dinosaur. Seeing something that was yellow though was certainly odd, especially for a cat. Again, he was being hypocritical as he looked like a mixture between a kitsune, wolf, and a snake.

His piercing blue eyes looked at the strange cat, and he knew now the rumors had been true. Unless this one cat was in charge of the entire territory. Which with how these things worked was highly unlikely. It was extremely difficult to read the expression of the hellhound from behind the mask, but simply by looking at his eyes, he didn't seem to be all that impressed. When the creature had dropped down, the throwing knives that were on his sash seemed to vibrate but didn't unsheathe themselves as he realized that he wasn't being attacked. Coalition of the Condemned. A mouthful if he had ever thought of one. He had to admit that it did sound edgy if that's what the group was going for. Vagabond seemed to tilt his head slightly toward Caesar as he talked, his twin tails moving independently behind him. "Interesting name. So the rumors were true." Vagabond said in a gravelly voice, one that obviously hadn't been used in a while. As he said this, the hellhound began looking around at the destroyed remnants of the forest. The Coalition of the Condemned picked an awful place to set up shop. Though, it was still better than the desert. His attention was drawn back to the small cat before him. "Vagabond. Was looking for a place to take up residence." Curt and straight to the point as he didn't sugar coat anything that he said. The large beast wasn't intimidated by the cat that unsheathed his claws at him. As long as Caesar could hold his tongue in terms of remarks against him, Vagabond would have no reason to attack. Far as he knew, his name shouldn't carry any weight for anyone. Sure, his calling card would probably be remembered with how he killed his victims, but it had never really been traced back to him.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[ARGUS]

Argus had at one point been in most clans. The typhoon was their first place they literally flew into and landed. They could say they were one of the first people there, When Pincher was still settling into the leadership role, but the clan had it's roots in the islands there. When Argus was just as tired, just as weary; saw the dog's smirking cocky features and simply fell into their loyalty- their duties there.There were moments- instances that Argus simply... reverted to before the clans here- to the islands of the typhoon had found her along the beach with sagging wings and half closed eyes- where they had welcomed the once-wolf.

A monster didn't need to prove it, needn't do every monstrous thing.

Argus could sit along the beach and enjoy the sag into their limbs as they walked, but there was more to the point that the dragon slept there on the beach. Where the sound of the sea was their lullaby, where the sands cradled them in a way that meant more familiarity than the occasional awning beach. Argus was not born by the island, though they could credit the Typhoon to their mannerisms now. The lofty drawl in their tone now, the mercy in their bones where there was once only savagery

But they were not in the Typhoon anymore, and once again Argus found themselves adapting into something new, something wholly different. Wolfish and savage and awning maws opened wide- claws ensnaring into this small island as theirs. These people as theirs. Something desperate and dangerous just on the cusp of being shown.

Caesar's voice cut into the Dragon's doze at the beach. Surprisingly or mayhaps not- Argus slept there through most of the mornings. Spending the evenings and late night as their day. Unless, there was something interesting that the dragon could guess they spent most time asleep. preserving their energy for the moment's the entire ruin o their island was awake with activity- it was rarer these days. With their leader mostly sick and the island as a whole building their defenses for the future raids- Argus built from the ruins at the night and the days were spend asleep- usually

But it was the sight of the hellhound that rose them- Ten eyes blinking wide and a mask set across their own face. Under it a snarl like smile in place, and it was in their answering growl as they came around the feline Caesar: wings spread slightly in a threat- if there presence wasn't enough of one. "and how exactly did you hear of us, death dealer?" The dragon hissed. Their head raised, and the edge of static in the cusps of their maw threatening to spill out in equal plasmic breath.

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"Standing in the afterimage of who you used to be graceless fumbling rage, standing within the eye's of the storm and an itch from the edges of a storm. Argus is painted in mercy and her lack of action; the only thing kept their enemies out of dragons breath is care. Sonder painting the mask of a monster; does not change what they are at the core. ruthless"

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[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

Vagabond had seen plenty of things that he considered to be messed up in his life. Hell, sometimes he was even the one that caused them and his crew would look at him in horror. He didn't necessarily care what he thought as all he wanted was some enjoyment in the job that he fit in so well. He had never wanted the life of a gang member, but it was the life that he was dealt and had nowhere else to turn. Betrayed by the government and left for dead, he didn't know where else to turn but mercenary work. He killed many individuals that deserved death, while there were probably several other instances where someone did not need to be killed but he did it for money. He was not a saint. He was simply doing what he had to in order to survive. If that meant killing off some cops to be able to continue living to the next day then he would do exactly that. Vagabond was known for his likelihood of being able to survive serious injuries. When he was human, he was a large man with a lot of muscle mass attached to his bones. Half the time he only had to stand close and lean over someone to make them do what he wanted. It was common for him to walk into the penthouse dripping with blood, only to walk into his room while his crewmates tried to get into his room to try and help him. He was extremely independent and only needed himself now. The voices in his head kept him enough company after all. It was only when a raid went wrong that a bullet to the skull was what finally killed him. Fitting really. He had lost track on how many times he had shot individuals through their heads to watch their brain matter splatter across the wall. Vagabond certainly preferred the likes of a gun than to just using knives as a means of defense in this world.

There were very few instances as to where he could be considered frightened or even threatened. After a while in the city, his name held a reputation for a man that was almost the level of a devil. He thought they greatly overexaggerated, but he wasn't about to stop them as it was free advertisement for his business as a hitman or bodyguard. The only time he got really concerned was when someone of the crew got severely injured and was close to death. After he got to know his crew he felt as if it was his fault for not being there and that he should have protected them. Even if he was a complete asshole, he really did care about them. He remembered when the Goldenboy was beaten to a pulp during a job from an enemy crew. After killing the one responsible, he had to carry the smaller man in his arms and watched as he lost consciousness. When he passed the man off to their medics, his leather jacket was covered in blood to the point where the rest of the crew thought he had been injured. In this new world, he wouldn't necessarily say that he wasn't afraid of anything. He simply didn't care. It was common for him to have an emotionless stance to most things, while greatly enjoying activities that some would consider morbid. There were so many different creatures that were considered to be fantasy all of these years, and finally to see them in the flesh was shocking. He had seen a couple of dragons at this point, and didn't really think much of them. He knew that he probably wouldn't be capable of taking down a dragon, but he wasn't afraid of them either. He was stronger now than he had been once before. He had control of the powers that this world had given them, and he wasn't afraid to use them to kill those that threatened him. Vagabond was skilled and wasn't about to be talked down to by anyone.

For the most part, Vagabond was fairly patient in waiting for an answer from the strange yellow cat. His attention shifted though when he heard the sound of trees being parted, and something large approaching them. Ah, of course, it had to be a dragon, hadn't it? It wouldn't be a group like the rest without one it seemed. His piercing blue eyes didn't seem to really express any emotion that one could read. However, Vagabond's tails began to lash behind him as he almost wanted to take a step back. There was a decent bit of height difference between the 6' tall hellhound and the 9' tall dragon. The eyes were the most off-putting part of the beast, but overall his body language didn't show he was intimidated by the dragon. If it was even called that. If he had a say he would just say it was demon spawn. Ironic considering that he was a hellhound himself. The large canine did not realize that this was a previous creature that he had killed in the past. Almost a year now from this point. One of Vagabond's dark ears flicked at the question that was aggressively asked of him. Such a nice lovely group. He wouldn't mind carving his way into here if it would mean that they would show him a little respect. He didn't care about what they thought of him, as he just needed a base of operations. The addition of being called 'death dealer' was certainly odd to him. Did this creature know him? Or was it because he was a hellhound? He didn't recognize whatever it was so he went with the later. The throwing knives on his sash began to vibrate slightly, showing that he was ready to defend himself if need be. Vagabond would give a low huff through his mask before responding to the beast's question. "As I said, previously, rumors nearby from the group that lives on the other island close to here. I don't remember their name." Vagabond said in a low gravely voice. His eyes were no longer on Caesar, but instead what he considered to be a bigger threat, Argus.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

[glow=black,1,400]CLEVER GOT ME THIS FAR, THEN TRICKY GOT ME IN ! — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

It definitely wasn't hard to notice a giant dragon flying your way, so whenever he heard the noise of Argus approaching, he watched them, frowning, before he looked back over at the stranger on the land. The savannah cat's ears flicked, showing his disapproval in the Vagabond's words, a small hum escaping him as he tried to think of how to respond.

Surely there wasn't any way for The Typhoon to have heard of their group? While it was true that rumors was also what brought Caesar here, at least they were murmurs in the loner lands - something that can be taken as hearsay if anything - but if the other groups knew of them? That was troubling. "You mean the group itself told you, or did you just happen to hear of it randomly?" He asked, hoping that it would ease both his and Argus's worries. "As in, from a traveler of sorts?"[glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]