Lukas orion's Story

Delilah smiled. Her ice blue eyes seemed to almost glow in the barlight. "Welcome to the ghoul, darlng." She said as she turned to him, every movement smooth and seducing. She bit the corner of her lip with her fang as she sized up the newcomer, looking him up and down. "Oh, they are. I'll bring you something that will surely sate your... Thirst." She winked at him, turning around to make the drink.
It was no wonder the chalice that sat atop the bar for tips was full of all manner of coin and paper money, being deposited by the many travelers that sat at the bar. Among them was a massive, armored, boisterous man with olive skin and an orange mohawk.
"OI, Delilah" He shouted, slapping some coin on the counter. Several empty containers sat next to the man, along with a plate of food and some broken glass. "I'ave another, luv." She responded, though her voice couldn't be heard over the bar chatter, unlike the armored man. She dropped his order off before walking over to ben's seat, placing a crystal glass containing a dark liquor that had a slightly sweet aroma over the smell of strong alcohol. "Nah mate, I'll die of poisonin' just to watch that arse walk away each time." Said the armored man to another patron that sat nearby. He howled like an animal before tugging the cork off of the jug. Delilah smiled, and leaned over the bar at Ben, giving him quite the view of her chest. "It's a favorite around here, lemme know how you like it, handsome. And if you need... anything, let me know." The suggestive tone of her words would leave much to the imagination as she stood back up to return to her duties around the bar.

Ben looked down ever so slightly, attempting to make an inconspicuous attempt at glancing to two orbs of joyful sunshine. "Think it's my new favorite, too." he murmured, but then flashed surprise when he'd found she'd delivered a drink to him. "Fuckin' heady. You and the drink, love!" he cried, as she walked away.

With a grin one could play a symphony on, he looked around, shoulders shrinking a little when he'd seen the lot of the fellows that rounded the bar. Fingers gripped around the handle, Ben poured the house special directly into his esophagus before looking to the big orange-haired fellow.

"You're a lot of paddies of drunk fucks. Ale cheap here?" he chirped. "Must make yore money off the quantity and the pretty lady with ferries on her chest?"

Lukas slammed down his jug after a long drain, some of the liquid splashed out as he wiped his face on his forearm. After a loud belch he looked over at the man, chuckling. "Aye. T'booze is great, prices are even better, and..." He turned to eye Delilah as she bent down to grab a bottle from the cooler. "Well, y'got eyes." He took another swig from his bottle before continuing. It was becoming apparent he needed booze almost as much as he needed air to breathe. "It's the only place thats got shite that'll get me drunk too." Lukas banged on his armor, where his liver would be. "Thing's too strong. Everywhere else has shite that might as well be water. But Delilah here? She know's what I like, don't yeh, sweetness?" She blew a kiss his way, but was otherwise busy fulfilling orders. "Onna these days, gurlie. I'm gonna sling you over meh shoulder and run off into the night."

"Lady like that don't like any one of you fat smelly bastards. All for show. And a damn good show, too!" Ben hollered. "And the drinks ain't bad, I guess."

His eye turned to Lukas' tower of empty mugs, and the corner of his mouth grew in depth a little more. "Damn." he said. "Sure I could drink you under the table if your stomach weren't bigger than my body and your intestine won't leapt out and strangle me, but in a case of man to man then direct proportions ain't taken into consideration."

He took his own again, as if it were an urgent matter, and poured it directly down his tract. It became rather apparent that getting drunk was the goal, and he had experience doing so before. He'd let a thumbtack he'd been keeping on the edge of his mouth into the tip chalice, and looked again to Lukas.

"You'd consider injecting it. Can do that, y'know. Get straight to the point without the tongue rot."

Lukas let out a thunderous laugh, both at the idea that the man could drink more than him, and at the suggestion of injecting his booze.
"Sorreh lad, if yer worried about tongue rot and all that, I don't think you can hold yer own with me in a game of drink." He arm swept the stack of empty containers aside, sending them cascading onto another patron's area of the bar.
"Better men 'ave died tryin'. So 'ave at it, wot kind of proportions you want? 2, 3, 4, to one o'yer drinks?" The gauntlet had been laid down. Lukas was prepared to begin the drinking game despite the amount of alcohol he had already ingested. "I promise my innards won't leap out and attack ye. Hell, maybe it'll put put some hair on yer jibblies. Wot ye wanna wager?"

While he spoke, Delilah came to empty the overflowing tip jar. As she reached inside to begin taking out some bills when suddenly she recoiled, clutching her finger as a scarlet orb formed at the tip. she hissed, looking back into the jar as if to find something that would have bitten her. "Ow! What was that?!" she said, still clutching her finger.

"Maybe it's a love bite, for being so lovely." Ben said dumbly to Delilah. He just wanted a place to put his tack, not to make the poor girl bleed. He picked a napkin up and shook it at her, for her trouble. Then he turned to Lukas.

"We can wager the tab, I suppose. How y'do this usually? Since you're so versed. You don't usually just drink someone until they pass out, do you? You play a word game or something, like ice breakers with alcohol?"

Lukas gave the man an awkward look, raising a brow. "Are ye sure you wanna do this, lad?" he asked with a grin. "I've run up quite th'bill and I don't think yer ready fer this. 'Aven't ye had drinking contest b'fore? It's last man standin', mate. Give yer money to the lovely lady, and whoever wins get their money back." Lukas took another drink from his jug, not even pausing before the drinking game commenced.
Lukas tossed a card onto the table which was soon taken by Delilah after having nursed the prick on her finger. "3 to 1, luv." Lukas said to her with a devilish grin on his face. "Sounds good, right? Meh three t'yer one? Good thing I warmed up b'fore ye got here."

Soon afterwards, Delilah arrived with a tray, placing it in front of the Armored man. On it sat two drinks of pitch black liquor, strong and pungent. One drink was sized normally, the other came in a glass mug that held, as he requested, 3 times as much.

Lukas slid the chair out next to him and gestured in the chair's direction. " 'ave a seat, let's get bladdered."

Ariston nodded, bowing slightly. "Very well. If at any point you require any assistance, we would be glad to repay you for your hospitality."
As the two spoke, Lazureth heard the all-too-familiar howling of Lukas Orion, turning as the crusader made his usual boisterous entrance. The old man was somewhat pleased to see the orange-haired helldiver, but somewhat troubled for what it may mean for the relations between the forces here and the native people. Lukas was never one to hold his tongue, or his blade, and always had a knack for offending anyone in earshot of him.
"Ah yes, the camp then, very well." Continued Ariston as Ziziya slipped him the small, round item. He held the small object in his hand and observed it for a moment before a mechandrite tentacle looped over his shoulder, gently grabbing the object before slinking back under his robe. "Thank you, I will do as instructed." As she spoke of entertainment, Ariston's expression became slightly confused, as if the representative began to speak in a foreign, unknown language. He gave a momentary look up at the massive, White-haired crusader at his side, as if to ask: What did she just say? He no longer had any concept of what recreation meant. Everything was time schedules, efficiency reports, and numbers to him. Any time spend not completing one's task was time wasted, and time wasted was an affront to the Machine God. Lazureth took a moment and explained the concept to him telepathically, though it would seem as if the two were just staring at each other for a seemingly uncomfortable amount of time. Finally Ariston turned and shook his head, refusing the gesture. "Oh, no that will not be necessary. Such things are not conducive to remaining at optimal effic--" A large hand placed on his shoulder stopped him mid-sentence as the armored giant interjected.
"The men here are not machines, Magus. Perhaps it would motivate them to work harder if they were given some time to relax and reap some of the rewards of their hard work in the name of our Father and your Machine God."

"Our efficiency will suffer." Responded Ariston curtly.

"For the moment, perhaps. But you must understand that your efficiency will suffer regardless if you work these men into the ground, lord. Instead, consider this. A moment of inefficiency may cause your men to work harder, having been motivated by the gesture, providing you with increased efficiency in the future. We are, just human after all, Magus. Even your machine god embodies duality, there must be a time for computation, and a time for maintenance. Consider this a time for maintenance and I am sure you will be rewarded."

Ariston paused for a moment and considered this. The old man's words were wise, and managed to appeal to him despite his contentions against the idea of rest periods other than the regimented sleep cycles assigned to the workers.

"Very well then. I will have you take charge of the arrangements for the... 'maintenance'." The robed man's words hung over the last word as if he was reconsidering the idea. The thought was immediately shoved away after a loud crash was heard coming from the crusader's barracks. Howling laughter could be heard coming from inside the building as the doors swung open as a pair of crusaders rushed inside to investigate the commotion. Ariston looked up to Lazureth and was returned a nod. The magus turned to Ziziya and bowed. "I apologize, but I must attend to something at once. Lazureth will act in my stead while I am away. I will return as soon as all matters are attended to."
With that, Ariston shuffled away in the direction of the barracks, though immediately afterwards he would retreat to his quarters to inspect the object given to him.

Lazureth smiled at the two, though his mouth was covered by the raspy re-breather mask he wore. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes gave him the look of a kind old man. As kind as one could appear when one was dressed for war, with eyes as black as an abyss.
"You must excuse Ariston. In his search for knowledge, he at times forgets that some are not as tireless as he." He raised a hand and gestured towards a central building in the camp where the officers of the crusade congregated. Please, let us discuss these matters away from the landing pad. There is far too much commotion out here."

Guy had a very stern look about him, his face showed no emotion and his skin looked pale and cold. He was always well dressed and despite his intentions each day, he always looked at least a little classy. Old habit maybe, or maybe he wanted thugs and what not to underestimate him. Yes that would give him a chance to finally let out his frustration with the new Assassins and Hit-men. It got quite annoying when they didn't cooperate or attempted to do something stupid like break the rules. Sure it was fun to have an easy to win brawl with someone but not when the reason is because they're too stupid to use common sense.

The Korean despised his boss, the leader of the whole organisation, he found him to be, naive and lazy. There was so much more he could do with the Organisation but he would never change his mind on keeping things the way they were. So what better way to solve the problem then by killing him?

His hands rested in the pockets of his clean, black pants and he casually entered The Grinning Ghoul. Voices echoed throughout the not so busy area and he kept in mind to not get too comfortable. Hopeful this place would have someone that could help him with his plan to exterminate his boss.

Ziziya blinked at the magus, but gave him a similar bow in return, hands flat to her thighs. She passed the tamroudian a glance, and he looked right back at her with one of his steely eyes. It was a brief exchange, and soon Ziziya was smiling up at Lazureth just the same as he was to her. "That is fine! Though perplexing, he does not seem like a bad person." She then turned to the tamroudian. Then turned back at Lazureth.

"Will the doorway be too small?"

Neither do I. I could say what brought me here but a strange feeling. Did something lead you here as well?