looking for more to write a 'Digi-Novel ;3

[Herr Mullen]

Marine strolled through the front door's of tonight's chosen bar. Alcohol greeted his nose, an acrid staleness both refreshing and offsetting tastes inside himself. Stools stood rigid leftwards, seperate tables on the right, splatters of people between the two. He ignored their chatter and pressed towards the back, his armor glistening off its filmy contours. When his bulk settled into a stool seat he called for the barkeep.

"Soda--warm, no ice." The keep grunted. After a twist of a spiggot his glass appeared next to him. Marine slipped a dollar bill tip. "Keep it for now."

After drinking half of the hissing liquid, he heard prattle from one booth. They came from a group far into the other corner and away from the lights. For a moment he didn't acknowledge them, still attuned to his drink, until something about a disclaimer attracted him. Turning to leave, the soldier leaned close towards the barkeep.

"The glass was dirty." He said, nipped the folded bill right from the keeps greasy pocket. "Fix it next time."

The first person he noticed within the group depths was an estranged fellow. He aired a royalty--almost chivalrous--appeal with his hardened black armor encasing him. But in the middle of the table in which these people surrounded, sat squared sheet of paper.

"Mind if I join your table?"

I'm sorry to say, and to waste your swave manner, that this is not a role play. Have a go at editing this new disclaimer;

The door of the pub swung open. Herr Mullen entered, wrapped up in his winter gear, which, if you care, is a long coat with matching elderly trilby, many, many scarves, his cane, and, because he was outside, spats on his brown shoes, which he wore to match the tweed. Jyou walked in behind him in his usual shirt and blazer.
"Why are we here, Herr Mullen?"
Herr Mullen waved the telegram at him. "Because I've been contacted about working in collaboration with some jolly good authors. They should be here, somewhere..."
"Mullen! Over here, dude!"
Herr Mullen began whirring, turning around this way and that, flab and scarves swinging madly, trying to locate the origins of this invitation. His eyes swirled in their sockets. Finally, he focused on a waving chap in the corner. Seven other fellows were next to him. Herr Mullen, cane thonking loudly on the wooden floor, hobbled over, Jyou behind him.
"Hey, Daisuke, Ken, Koushiro, Yamato. 'Sup?"
"Not much, Jyou," said Daisuke. "Felidire wants you guys to write up a new series."
Herr Mullen grumbled, and sat down, the chair under him creaking. "On what basis?"
The Shadow Knight, clad in armour blacker than the blackest hearts of Man or Dwarf, passed a piece of paper to Ken, who looked to have been forced to wear The Kaizer outfit again, although he'd put his glasses on the table. He passed the paper over to Herr Mullen, who took it, and squinted at it. Then put it down, took off his hat, undid his coat, and reached into his blazer, retrieving his pince de nez, which he put on the end of his nose. He picked up the paper and read the passage written on it.
"...A Tailmon fiction?"
Both Daisuke and Felidire grinned dreamily. "You betcha."
Blue Rover, dressed in classical fantasy blue robes with yellow trimming, his hat with a feather in it on the table, and his matching blue Phantom Mask over the upper part of his face, clapped twice. Koushiro immediately deployed his laptop on the table.
"Koushiro, open something for planning," he ordered. "I'd like to be a part of this."
"...Very well," muttered Herr Mullen. "I'll join you. Barkeep! A large brandy! And whatever these good gentlemen are having!" Daisuke immediately started. "But no alcohol for this chap! He's underage."
Daisuke's shoulders drooped.
"Herr Mullen," The Marine said in the corner, from under his US Millitary Corps. uniform, which had been specially shunk for him, having bought a few sizes too big by mistake. "Would you like to do the disclaimer?"
Herr Mullen burbled. He was expecting to have to weedle his way into writing it, rather than being nominated. "Very well!" he said, "I'll do it. Koushiro! Write this down!"
"Digimon is property of Toei and Fox Kids, apparently."
"Why do you keep saying that?"
"Shut up. Contains scenes a minor shouldn't be reading. You must be over the legal age in whatever territory you're in to read this fiction. All silly jokes, plot, and, indeed, this entire fiction, are properties of the authors Felidire, Blue Rover, Shadowkinght, Marine and myself, Herr Mullen. Onto the story, Jyou."
"Koushiro."
"I didn't ask for your name."