<strong>Name:</strong>Marchosias<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bar<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Jared, Adam, Ariel, Izzyra, Clarissa, Drulok (and everyone else, more or less)<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Jared's naivety brought a smile to Marc's face. It was never that easy to get away from this way of life. Sure, if he tried to skip town, Marc would have to pursue him for not paying back his debt, but he would likely only bring more danger upon himself by helping the nephilim out with anything he had planned. It was a catch 22 if he had ever seen one and the poor man was unlikely to survive for very long unless he chose to stick with Marc's new crew for a while. He actually felt a little bad for him, but he should never have come to the city if he wasn't ready to face the dangers. "Once your debt is repaid, you're free to leave this life, if you wish. But that's a decision for later," he told him as he finished off his wine.<br/><br/>Turning away from the strange man, he found the others coming up to the area around the bar one by one, a few seeking audience and answers from the man who had called them here and got them into a fight. Drulok was still around, of course,  but he had faith that the haunt wouldn't act on any of his urges to bring harm to the others while Marc was around. After all, even a creature such as him had the fear of death.<br/><br/>Instead he focused his attention first on Adam, who had made a saddening little approach to the angel before he came over to the "leader" to offer proof of the necromancer's head. Marchosias only looked down at the obliterated visage for a few seconds before shoving it down the stairway with his foot, letting it bounce all the way down to the dance floor, where it would easily fall through and disappear into oblivion. He had no reason to keep the head. "Don't expect any honor from me if you aren't going to show any to yourself," he told the masked man, reprimanding yet not harsh. "Do you really think the angel has any less blood on her hands than you? Do you think that light means the absence of darkness? No offense." He directed his last words to Ariel, though he already had his doubts that the woman would want to stick around, anyway. She seemed to think herself above all the sin and violence, opposed to it, even.<br/><br/>"There's no fouler pit in this city than the Light of Dawn; at least the Brothers Fallen have a code, and respect. The angels will piss in your drink and tell you to cherish it. Never act like you're unworthy to be in the presence of an angel," the halfling said with great disdain for the Light and a firm statement that any deference to angels would not be tolerated. There wasn't a pure soul in this city, nor in the rest of the world. It was important for each man and woman here to know that before they started to work for him.<br/><br/>The others were gathering more quickly, and Marc could see that the proceedings would have to begin soon. Stepping back from Adam, the nephilim found himself smiling again as the dragoness threatened him in the midst of a dozen people who would happily kill her for the right price. She had guts, that was for sure. "If you wish to get paid, or at least get out of the gutter, I do command you. And you'll have your answers shortly," he told her, before turning his attention to the magical construct who came up asking for a drink. Riks quickly took care of her, offering her a strong beer to test how much alcohol a fresher being like her could actually handle. Drulok's response to her presence was amusing yet (hopefully, for his sake) harmless, letting Marc just pat the worried Jared on the shoulder to tell him to relax. The haunt's bloodlust would be sated soon enough.<br/><br/>Before anyone else called for his direction attention, Marc nodded to Riks and stepped through the bar, the marble-like material of the counter splitting itself open to create a new pathway for its master, then closing up again. "Everyone, if you'd like to step closer, I believe you're all ready for some details and some answers," the club owner called out to everyone, while the massive black orc grasped a bottle of relatively young rum and poured it out over the counter. Next, he took a match from his pocket and lit a full four or five feet of the bar ablaze with orange flame. Whatever purpose this had, Marc only stood behind the wall of fire and waited for the others to get in close so he could begin speaking.