*Buffy strolls back into the Flagon, smiling ruefully at Aliza as she takes a seat at the bar* "Sorry about the sudden leave. How much do I owe?"

[b][i]"On the house, don't worry about it." Says Aliza. "What would you like today?"[/i][/b]

"Just get me another lemonade. I don't drink." *She looks about the bar, her eyes evaluating* "Alright, give me the rundown on who's who."

[b][i]Aliza nods and begins pointing the people out one by one. She starts with Mac and Shannon, her hired help for the Crimson Flagon. She then moves to the ones sitting at the bar. She points out regulars, she even mentions regulars who aren't present like Libreous, First Captan Corvo Karras, Edmond Glass, and others. She then points to the group of Imperial Guard, explaining they are elite commandos with an incredibly long list of campaigns and battles, they are the Ghosts of Tannith. She moves on to a group of mercenaries, then a group of rough looking gangers. Next she lists all the champions (all the people participating in this post), and finishes with the man in the extremely expensive suit. "The man in the expensive suit is unknown to me, however. I overheard his name though.. It's Ostan. I believe he was a primary senator of the Golden City on Terra. I never paid much attention to politics to be honest." She says. A look of concern washes over her face. "He gives me the creeps.." She says after a pause. You think to yourself: in a room full of the deadliest bunch of warriors in existence, a man in a suit is the one who she fears most. You find this odd.[/i][/b]

*Buffy finds her 'dar going nuts about the guy, and she looks away quickly, avoiding his gaze* "Same here. So, this is obviously a battleship, in space, but.... Not my universe, either..." *She begins muttering under her breath about "damn quasi-dimensional underlings" and something about wearing ribcages as hats...* "Sorry, got carried away with the physics." *Buffy smiles up at Aliza, chuckling at her confused expression* [spoiler]Sorry for the slight jacking, but it seemed appropriate.[/spoiler]

[b]Jared re-enters the bar, tired and actually bloody, his right arm pockmarked with syringe marks and blood, and he rolls down the sleeves of his bodysuit He walks over to the bar, where he overhears the stuff about the quarantine zone, but ignores it He talks to the Bartender[/b] "I need a shotglass of whiskey and a flagon of beer"

[b][i]Aliza nods, then disappears for a moment. She returns with your shot and a huge Flagon full of golden beer. "That beer is brand new, tell me what you think." She says, anticipating your feedback. [/i][/b]

[b]He puts the shot in the beer, and then drinks deeply, shaking his head quickly, like a dog trying to rid itself of fleas [/b] "Jesus god that's intoxicating"

[i][b]"Pace yourself, I've seen many shit themselves on this stuff." Says Aliza as she eyes you. She slides you another.[/b][/i]

"I can handle it, I'm built a bit differently you could say" [b]He gulps deeply, not really showing a hint of intoxication[/b] [spoiler]you don't care about the fact he walked in covered in blood? lol [/spoiler]

[spoiler]i was about to get to that part lol[/spoiler] [b][i]You find that others in the bar are looking at you funny, the blood seems to unsettle them. Someone approaches. "Are you infected?" Asks the random patron.[/i][/b]

"Depends, with what?" [b]He asks, eyeing the person asking[/b]

[b][i]"The parasite of course.. What is all this shit?!" Says the man pointing at your damaged flesh.[/i][/b]

[spoiler]Does he know about the evolved?[/spoiler] [b]He shrugs[/b] "A result of my treatment, speaking of which I need another dose" [b]He reaches for his belt, and opens a pouch, but his eyes widen when he feels nothing [/b] "Oh shit"

[spoiler]she doesn't know[/spoiler] [b][i]What's the matter?" She asks with a concerned look on her face.[/i][/b]

[b]He doesn't answer, doubling over and knocking the beer to the ground, then stumbling to the door, blood dripping from his abdomen and arms He leaves one hell of a trail and you hear him almost scream with pain [/b]

[i]A trifecta of three figures enter the bar amidst the conversations of the Chaos and the Imperium's lower-ranking soldiers, but immediately after the conversation that had taken place only moments before. [/i] [i]The first person to wander inside the establishment was a strange figure to many. With his face half charred and scarred into oblivion, his ugly mug on the leftmost half shows a menacing look to the figure, while the right side portrays his innocence fairly well with only a single, angelic white beard that ran along his face, somehow growing atop the burnt face. Rather, his beard grew at one point, which it seemed to stop after some moment, and the facial hair had barely noticeable burn marks lining the right half of his beard near the top, where it connected with his ugly face. The duster that remains draped over his body was tattered and torn, showing years of usage and fights survived while bearing that outfit. The dirt at the very deepest depths of his outfit carried a darker yet less noticeable brown due to the minuscule amount of dirt that was there, but the outfit quickly grew to be a lighter shade of brown as it went higher and higher, the long jacket showing a strange patch on the right shoulder, that reads [b]Nation Without a Home[/b], above another that reads [b]Outlaw Squad, OSIRis[/b], ending the chain with one that reads [b]Fireteam November[/b]. Across his back rests a single shotgun, one with three barrels and no stock, the words [b]TRIPLE TAP[/b] etched into the top barrel, engraved with an onyx colour. At his sides lay a pair of twin revolvers, either looking to have a slightly longer barrel than the average revolver, although from the way the man carried himself it was clear that he could still draw the weapons faster than half the patrons in the bar. [/i] [i]The second to head inside the bar was far more strange than the first, this being her first time entering the building. Her long, curled red locks flowed over her right shoulder, draping down to touch the side of her breast. Her fiery hair seemingly heated the air around her immensely and filled the bar with pure heat, all the while her icy blue eyes cooled it back down swiftly. Her outfit consisted of a crimson red shirt, the laces that acted as straps running over either shoulder in a nice, dark black colour. The shirt fitted tightly around her body, much like the pair of blue jeans that fitted on her flawlessly, if not taking the image that it formed around her body. Her black boots went overtop the clothing that she bore, and looked to be standard combat boots. Finally, she let a single black leather jacket rest overtop her hourglass figured body, remaining unzipped. She too had the words [b]Nation Without a Home[/b] on her jacket, although unlike how the cowboy carried it on the right side, she carried hers on the left. Her firearm load-out consisted of your standard military gear: An M4A1 with a red dot sight fitted to it, finished only by a fore grip that matched the sleek, unpainted gun. Her sidearm that lays on the left half of her hip was simply an M9, standard police-issue, that had been bought widespread by the NWH Private Forces that she had commanded as a general for the cowboy that accompanied her, back at her home. [/i] [i]The last figure looked to be the most out-of-place one within the confines of the bar, his body encompassed by a pair on onyx black military cargo pants, with matching boots, and a black shirt of the same grade. His jet black hair matched the gloves he wore over either hand perfectly, and the way he moved inside the bar conveyed a sense of discomfort in his figure. He seemed to be taller than the cowboy by four inches, as the man already stood at six-foot-two, and his emerald green eyes looked far different than what the other two had for themselves. Unlike them, he had no idea what he was doing, and so he followed merrily, his rifle, Lightning, draped across his back while Law and Order, his twin pistols, rest at his sides. [/i] [i]The crew made haste towards a booth seat lining the wall in the Imperium side of the bar, each shooting one another a glance of trust, one that was only given by the last man and received by the first two figures, for he seemed to be new to their unit. They all sat in silence until the cowboy finally spoke. [/i]"Well sir, what would your name be exactly?[i]He asked the strange man before him, his voice laced by a heavy accent of Texan descent. [/i]"Hutch Ryder, ex-PMC, Extryte." [i]He responded, his voice laced by no accents whatsoever. The way he spoke led the cowboy to look at the woman beside him, shooting a curious glance. [/i]"He doesn't seem to be lying, JT." [i]She stated to the man that leaned back in the booth. Unlike JT or Hutch, her accent was British, the words conveyed with a thick accent. JT looked back to the woman, before glaring to the man, and uttering a single phrase. [/i]"Diana says you're good, kid." [i]And with that, the trio relaxed. [/i]

[b][i]A man leans against a wall listening to the conversation, his arms are huge by he seems to have no weapons.[/i][/b]

[i]The trio take a glance towards the man, the cowboy's left eye shining far greater than his right. He had locked on to the man to track him as he moved, but continued to speak to the new guy in the team. [/i]"So Hutch. You leading the way?" [i]He asked, a curios tilt of his head to the right following closely after, to which he responded a single word. [/i]"Yeah."

[b][i]The man eyes Hutch with the eyes of a predator. This is a subconscious gesture, he doesn't even have to process the information, it is just his killer instinct. He had been killing for thousands of years already. Killing and devouring flesh because he is a monster. The group of warriors before him would never have known this man was an experienced killer, let alone an ancient, truly terrifying monster, if it wasn't for their own killer instincts. The man already knows the order in which he would kill them in should they try to make a move against him, although they are not is real targets anyway. He considered aborting his mission, but decided he could always devour another soul and steal their identity too. "Being a shape shifter has its benefits" thinks Armageddon to himself. The sharp eye of the cowboy soldier picks up the the fact that this man is not a man at all. It is a beast of ancient fables. [/i][/b] [spoiler]https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/149357992/0/0[/spoiler]

[i]The cowboy studied the figure that stared to him, the watchful eye of his giving a profile on him from a number of databases from all over the Galaxy. What came forth was a name: Armageddon. He stared at the figure before slinking into the seat slightly, making himself look like less of a potential threat to the man. [/i]

[b][i]"A man in a mask enters, he has three katanas. He takes in the corner, back against the wall to view the room. You see a commotion at a table nearby, but when you look back, you see Armageddon behind the man in the mask, hand on his shoulder, whispering into his ear. You notice Armageddon's hand on Ronin's shoulder, it's not a hand anymore, it's black claws digging into his flesh. Armageddon makes eye contact with you from across the room as he whispers into Ronin's ear. His eyes flash red for an instant and he smiles at you. You're able to read his lips. "Thanks for the new identity... I'll be back for you later" With that, Armageddon leans back into the shadows of the corner, then disappears into nothingness. [/i][/b] [spoiler]I was thinking you and Ronin could team up against Armageddon if you'd like. Robin is Ginga's character, he made a post outside the chapter post but I'm going to link it together in the same timeline. Your thoughts?[/spoiler]

[spoiler]Well, I'd say it's a good thing the cowboy knows Ronin then, lol. [/spoiler]