10-01-2020, 08:16 PM
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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]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.
![[Image: tumblr_ogjon7vWBT1rnfgcso3_r1_540.gif]](https://66.media.tumblr.com/890f34976b3032408f87325d587bacdd/tumblr_ogjon7vWBT1rnfgcso3_r1_540.gif)
[glow=black,2,300]If you're going to bleed, then I'm going to give you a reason to[/glow]
tags N/A& choatic evil & member &[member=184]Sorrel[/member]