The beast didn't know what to do with himself at this point in time. He had gone off to do his own thing, and he accomplished what he wanted. He made a name for himself and got many different groups to fear him. But without his crew to interact with, he would never admit it but it made him fairly lonely that there was no one he could talk to that wouldn't put their tail between their legs for him. After becoming whatever the hell he was, he finally managed to figure out how to live in a body that he wasn't born in. He would much rather be back in a big city where he could deal with drugs and just simply be a hitman again. The only reason that his path was crossing where he used to reside, in which he had caused a good amount of mayhem when he was around, was to simply see if he could spice up his life a little bit here and there. It wouldn't have to be something extreme, but it was something. Besides, he was making the excuse as well that he just wanted to expand his territory and get new clients. It wouldn't be hard. Whether or not he had his crew was a different matter. He had once been solo in the Agency a while back, and it wouldn't take all that much to go back into that mindset to make sure that no one messed with him. 

The one thing that he would tell everyone that he came across, was that he hated the desert. This place hadn't really seemed to change. This was basically the first place that he had come across when he first turned into this creature after being shot in the head after a bad heist. The Hellhound was basically allowed to do whatever he wanted in the Rosebloods, and since this was basically the same territory as them, he believed them to still be the Rosebloods and nothing else. So, he thought the best place to get information would be from familiar faces. It had been almost a year since he was last seen here, and he wondered if his calling card still had an effect with the groups that were nearby. Regardless, he waned to get into the shade as quickly as possible. The large brute made his way through the desert, his massive paws sinking in the sand with each step that he took. The Hellhound wore a skull mask over his face, which seemed to be a distorted version of a human skull. The black metal getting hot enough to nearly singe the skin underneath his thick fur. His twin tails flicked beihnd him almost lazily, and his stark blue eyes were vibrant through the holes of the mask. His ears flickd as he looked around across the expanse of the desert and could see the jungle in the background a little bit of a distance away. Vagabond stopped to adjust the sash that was across his body that showed multiple different types of throwing knives. Considering all the free time that he had, he was able to perfect the strange powers he had been granted with this strange body.

Vagabond continued to walk through the territory, the skin on his body becoming progressively hotter as he walked. Maybe if he had an umbrella it would help him significantly. But, he doubted those existed in whatever this world was. Which, he still didn't bother to study all that much as it didn't really matter to him. This was his life now, so he was simply going to adapt to it and do what he needed in order to survive. Previously he had all th supplies he could ever want from his clients. Now he was starting from square one. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he was knocked down a peg. The 6ft tall Hellhound stopped for a minute in the sand next to the corpse of a dead tree. He kept his breathing level, but the longer that he was out in the sun, the more frustrated he was becoming. There, Vagabond would sit for a couple moments, looking for any signs of life as the mask that he wore inhibited using his sense of smell, to see if the territory was still occupied. The air around Vagabond remaind somewhat cool despite the heat, but he wasn't going to be using his air elementals to their full extent in order to conserve his stamina.

/im so rusty kill me

a slow lumbering gait was often what made others underestimate how fast he could move, he often wondered if they forgot the fact he had the extra limbs to make up for it even if he wasn’t

But alas, let them underestimate him if they’d like - he looked horrific enough to put off most people from interacting either way - though the pittians had long since gotten used to him - though they did find various things about him disgusting no doubt (like the fact his whole chest was just another mouth full of tendrils and other horrific things).

So it was the ardent lumbered up behind Ghostwhisper, quiet and with that same sightless gaze fixed upon the newcomer - one that seemed very brazen to just blunder through the territory - but it spoke to familiarity that he’d gotten so far, so perhaps this was no newcomer after all.

”and your name if you would be so kind” the many voices in one rumbled, a hush and a dulled echo in one.