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Raven



Moving his bangs from place, Raven ascended to his feet. After having been socked in the face, he returned the favor by retaliating and punched the culprit hard enough to send him into a nearby wall. "Got ya'!" The boy exclaimed, that ever present grin meeting his next opponent as another person stepped into the fray. The fights would however reach a sudden halt before Raven could get into the heart of battle. Stopping a fight including a Lamia would almost be considered a sin by the species, but Raven noticed how everyone around him were starting to feel winter's cold embrace. Raven himself wasn't touched by the effect. He wouldn't have noticed the change in temperature had there not been visible cues. The slight amount of frost appearing on his clothes was enough to confirm his suspicions.

The vampire turned around to see a new addition to the fight, or rather, someone with the gall to stop it. A Witch. Raven never particularly liked spell casters. They all tended to follow the same theme, and they all tended to be delighted with a stick up their ass. It was all too common to see them consider themselves nobility among peasants. One could however not argue with her reasoning. If the fight was to continue, they could indeed move the battlefield outside.

In either event, her intervention had been enough to douse the fiery spirits of most fighters in the bar. Their will to do battle had been critically diminished and this left Raven thoroughly dissatisfied. Forcing combat on those who had laid down arms was however not the Lamia way. Such would be tantamount to sullying a holy tradition with impurity.

With a heavy sigh, the vampire made his way towards the bar and dropped down on a chair. They, of course, had blood on the menu. It was all going to be tasteless, given the circumstances. At least that removed the need to pick and choose. "Wonder how Calib is doin'. Think I saw him with Cold Tits." Raven thought, sipping from the newly acquired drink served by dearest Venus. She appeared used to this, enough so not to react to another vampire. The species was a commodity, and frequently visited the establishment. For now, Raven could only sip from his drink and wait for Calib to finish whatever he was going to do with that lady.
Raven



Making his way across the dance floor, a feat in itself considering the mass of people inhabiting the slick surface, Raven evened the distance between himself, and the point of interest. The ogre had won, besting the demon's strength in a combat of prowess. The loss promptly lead to a hearty swig of the pint now placed against the demon's lips, accompanied by victories cheering by those betting on the winning arm. "Anyone else!?" The ogre's voice bellowed through the scene, making the very air ache at his presence. A dramatic entrance was highly expected of an ogre, indeed. He took to his heritage with pride, that much was certain.

"Me!" A light voice broke through, shifting everyone's focus to the newcomer, a mere boy in comparison to the beasts finding this corner a section of relevance.

Raising a large, bushy eyebrow in response, the ogre as if torn from a story book glared daggers at the slight vampire, his face soon squinting to a grin upon realizing the truth behind Raven's statement. "Boy..." He began, raising an enormous hand to settle the scratch upon his chin. "Don't be stupid." The ogre finished, crossing his arms.

"Aw, don't worry! I won't hurt you much!" Ever the jester, Raven retorted as he slid into the opposing seat. His words managed to earn more than a few laughs from the spectators, and that ever present grin upon his lips surly caused for provocation.

"Hurt me?" The ogre shot back. "Don't know what you are, kid..." Stretching and cracking his neck, the ogre placed an arm at the table. "But you've got a big mouth."

"Got an even bigger -..." The vampire giggled before joining the ogre on the table, his small hand completely engulfed by his opponent's giant mitt. "...ego."

"I love this kid!" Another voice rang out, giving Raven's shoulder an friendly punch. "Alright, begin!" The same voice announced, causing the two combatants to initiate their battle.

The ogres fist clenched around Raven's hand, something which would have broken it was the boy a mortal being. Looking into the vampire's eyes, the ogre couldn't help but find himself caught off guard by the stone hard grip he was greeted with. Those ever grinning eyes met his in a contest similar to their arm wrestling. It was at this point that the ogre was coming a realization. Raven was neither breathing, nor were his muscles tightening. It was if the boy was a statue, his body unmoving. Neither could the ogre sense any form of heat emanating from the boy's hand. True, his skin appeared completely human with both warmth and touch, however it did not grow warmer due to the clenched embrace of fists.

Most notably, Raven did not appear to grow fatigued or tired. His expression never changed, his eyes never moving from place. The boy wasn't alive, that was now certain. One should perhaps also note that Raven was a scrawny, little street punk. His arms were tiny and his muscles were barely visible if at all, yet his arm wasn't moving an inch. "Vam-...!" Before the ogre could finish his sentence, Raven's grin widened and he shoved the opposing hand down onto the table with enough force to leave a crack upon the wood.

"...pire!" The boy finished, raising his fist in victory. Challenging a vampire in a contest of stamina was never a decent idea. The undead did not tire, and few of them, like the Lamia themselves, required sleep.

"You cheated!" The ogre burst out, massaging his arm. "You aren't even alive!"

"Dude, I am feelin' so fuckin' alive!" Raven shot back with a giggle.

It was then that an ogre's well known temper reached a climax. Humiliated by a mere teenager, one who looked like he could use another ten meals on top of that, cut deep. With clenched fists, the ogre threw a punch across the table. Moving aside, Raven evaded the blow, but it came in contact with another rowdy patron behind his chair. This of course lead to retaliation, which in turn accelerated the fight with more participants. "Woo! Barfiiiight!" The overly excited vampire exclaimed before getting knocked down from the chair.
Raven





An ever-present grin beneath the darkness of a hoodie struck the troll bobbing and weaving from one side to the other, his fists moving through the air in an intimidating manner with droplets of sweat flinging from his frame and unto the ground beneath their feet. Large and imposing, most would possess enough sense to find themselves on the running end of a troll but the fanged grin almost playful in its approach did not waver as the slight vampire moved back to his feet. Having met the ground head on was anything but a comfortable outcome, though Raven wasn’t known for succumbing to pain. A glutton for punishment, the Lamia soon found himself back on his converse clad feet before slipping that hood off to reveal a set of thick, messy hair belonging to a young and brightly smirking face. “That it?” He spoke, his voice light and to the point.

“Y’ain’t down fer’ th’count yet, kid?” The troll returned, slamming his fists together, earning a delighted chuckle from his vampiric opponent.

“I was just measurin’ ya’!” Raven shot back, tightening his fingerless gloves before charging forth. Invoking the undead prowess flowing through his veins, the vampire relished. His fist connected with the troll, the sound of shattering bone causing the audience to cheer in delight, followed by another, and a third. A troll possessed remarkable regeneration, and so did a vampire. This battle, it was one of brutal nature, one people would pay to see. No holding back, no restrictions. Just try not to kill each other, but other than that, go all out.

Retaliating, the troll threw his fist forth and managed to connect another strike. The impact was enough to launch Raven’s light weight to the ground, but he rolled back to his feet in a fluid motion. Not allowing the troll a second to collect himself, Raven evened the distance between them. The vampire awaited another strike, patience working in his advantage as he sidestepped the incoming punch and expertly parried the attack. Catching the strike, Raven placed one hand along the troll’s forearm and the other along his biceps before delivering a powerful kick to his opponent’s leg. Using the leverage, Raven broke the troll’s arm and forced him to a knee before ending the fight with a fist to the troll’s forehead.

A loud thud sealed their fight, sending a moaning troll to the ground regenerating from his wounds. As the rules dictated, spending enough time on the ground warranted your loss. Throwing his fist up in the air, Raven looked over the roaring crowed with the ever present, bright smile stretching across his lips. “Looks like we have a winner!” Breaking through the crowd’s roaring cheers was an ever familiar voice within the fighting pit. The referee made her way into ring, placing a hand on Raven’s shoulder to officially announce the victory. “You might be a new fan favorite kid! Just arrived here, huh?”

“Yup!” Raven returned, showing off that toothy grin.

“Hope we’ll be seeing more of you, yeah?” The referee returned. “Those are all the fights for today, folks!” She continued, turning her attention to the audience before dotting the end of this day’s fighting. Of course, the amount of fights in a day all boils down to how many combatants decide to sign up. During daytime, not many found the time, so to speak. This wasn’t exactly a civil activity.

Upon leaving the arena, Raven counted his daily ‘salary’ which came closely knitted to the fight club. You fight, you win, you earn money. Signing up itself offered some payment, and overall the activity was fruitful. Ever since Raven came to live with his friend Calib, it had taken him a while to find a den of scum and villainy, so to speak. No one down there in the fight club was out to kill, and no one was eager to put that amount of guilt on their conscience. It was a source of entertainment, without as many rules and restrictions as more civilly sanctioned fights. Well, there was that, and there was the supernatural aspect of it.

Treading across the path back home to Calib, Raven had told the demon about the fighting a long time ago. It wasn’t news, though Raven understood if Calib had better things to do than to hang around the vampire all the time. Especially when Raven was at ‘work’. Placing his hand on the doorknob, the vampire had arrived home, and proceeded to open the door. Even though he was essentially forty-six years of age, the Lamia all possessed a mental configuration which forced them to retain the maturity of the day they were turned. Due to this, Raven acted like his appearance would dictate, like a sixteen-year-old, and he was treated like one in turn. Calib’s mother was a sweet person, God bless her. Though, Raven was quite certain that between Calib and himself, she had her hands full with two troublemakers.
Sorry. Here you go,

Tenebris Discord
I made a final edit to my character and shifted back to my first one, now before we start. Done with all my edits.

Looking forward to when we start this.

Also, that link doesn't lead anywhere, @Bleu Flacon.

Try this one.

Tenebris
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