Macabre
05-10-11, 06:27 PM
((Solo))
Cold, lifeless eyes stared up hopelessly at Ravenok with the same frozen awe they'd initially expressed upon the man's death. The fighter's own fiery eyes stared right back down at the dead vagrant through a thin veil of his long hair as if trying to intimidate his dead soul all the way in the Nether. With an exasperated breath he straightened his tunic with a slight shrug then looked up at the clear dusk sky and stretched his neck side to side.
Clouds slowly rolled by in apathy to the world beneath while a brisk breeze slid its way through the dead-end alley Ravenok had managed to wind up in throughout the day's events. An alleyway in between two run down carpentry warehouses deep in the ramshackle underclass portion of the city, where a passerby is just as likely to try and mug a person as a nearby guard. There was barely traffic on the outer street, and an even smaller fraction of passersby paid little to any attention to the happenings in such shady back streets. He spent a lot of time in those areas in Radasanth. Less speculation from official figures.
"Hey..." An excited voice and the slight shuffling of feet from behind broke the calm silence and hooked Ravenok's attention. His head drew back down out of the clouds slowly as he inhaled through his nose, only slightly turning his head rather than his whole body as to indicate that he was listening. "You weren't supposed to kill him! Fuck!"
In truth, he wasn't, and Ravenok knew that. For the past few days he'd been participating in a small local fight club for giggles and petty money prizes. It was a sufficient past time for a while but he quickly grew tired of the charade. The men he'd been cavorting with were nothing but a group of boorish fools that picked fights with random others for enjoyment, mugging them in some cases. In short, Ravenok wasn't a fan.
Turning to face four other men - all younger members of secondhand society dressed in rather plain summer clothing - Ravenok quietly uttered "I think he's better off this way, really. Wouldn't you agree?"
The front-most gang member, Seth Rinken, took a couple steps forward and nodded towards Ravenok gently while looking back at the other three. He was a dark haired and muscular man, older and a little more intelligent than the rest; dressed in a long pair of denim shorts and a light sleeveless hard-leather vest. Seth and Ravenok had actually been decent friends for the previous couple of days - or at least, as friendly as could be when one of the two held nothing for the other but complete distaste and distrust. Seth had imagined them as friends, to his own misunderstanding though. The other three fighters nodded in return and all of their attention focused on Ravenok.
"Oh... I'm to assume you all actually cared about him." The martial artist said with a brief, sharp-toothed grin; voice dripping sarcasm. He flexed his gauntleted hands in response to the Seth's approach, which quickly turned into a short sprint.
The gang leader came in with a quick right hook that caught Ravenok on the cheek then attempted a left. He quickly dodged the boss's second hook with a simple backwards sway, then grunted as he ducked in under his opponent's swing with one skilled motion then rose with a strong uppercut to the belly. Seth's wind escaped him in a flash which caused him to keel over in pain, allowing Ravenok to hop up and follow through with a brutal downward elbow strike to the man's spine. He crumpled like a pile of rags and face-planted the dirt back street at the martial artist's feet, beside the other dead member crew member. Without respite he lifted up his booted leg and stomped on the fallen man's neck. Seth's pained groaning stopped instantly.
After a few moments of silence, Ravenok brought his gaze up to the remaining three, who had finally decided to draw cruel iron knives. He smirked in response as his right hand clenched and ignited into a quiet burst of hot orange and blue flame, gauntlet and all. Sensing their reluctance he took a couple of steps forward himself.
"... Who's up next?"
Cold, lifeless eyes stared up hopelessly at Ravenok with the same frozen awe they'd initially expressed upon the man's death. The fighter's own fiery eyes stared right back down at the dead vagrant through a thin veil of his long hair as if trying to intimidate his dead soul all the way in the Nether. With an exasperated breath he straightened his tunic with a slight shrug then looked up at the clear dusk sky and stretched his neck side to side.
Clouds slowly rolled by in apathy to the world beneath while a brisk breeze slid its way through the dead-end alley Ravenok had managed to wind up in throughout the day's events. An alleyway in between two run down carpentry warehouses deep in the ramshackle underclass portion of the city, where a passerby is just as likely to try and mug a person as a nearby guard. There was barely traffic on the outer street, and an even smaller fraction of passersby paid little to any attention to the happenings in such shady back streets. He spent a lot of time in those areas in Radasanth. Less speculation from official figures.
"Hey..." An excited voice and the slight shuffling of feet from behind broke the calm silence and hooked Ravenok's attention. His head drew back down out of the clouds slowly as he inhaled through his nose, only slightly turning his head rather than his whole body as to indicate that he was listening. "You weren't supposed to kill him! Fuck!"
In truth, he wasn't, and Ravenok knew that. For the past few days he'd been participating in a small local fight club for giggles and petty money prizes. It was a sufficient past time for a while but he quickly grew tired of the charade. The men he'd been cavorting with were nothing but a group of boorish fools that picked fights with random others for enjoyment, mugging them in some cases. In short, Ravenok wasn't a fan.
Turning to face four other men - all younger members of secondhand society dressed in rather plain summer clothing - Ravenok quietly uttered "I think he's better off this way, really. Wouldn't you agree?"
The front-most gang member, Seth Rinken, took a couple steps forward and nodded towards Ravenok gently while looking back at the other three. He was a dark haired and muscular man, older and a little more intelligent than the rest; dressed in a long pair of denim shorts and a light sleeveless hard-leather vest. Seth and Ravenok had actually been decent friends for the previous couple of days - or at least, as friendly as could be when one of the two held nothing for the other but complete distaste and distrust. Seth had imagined them as friends, to his own misunderstanding though. The other three fighters nodded in return and all of their attention focused on Ravenok.
"Oh... I'm to assume you all actually cared about him." The martial artist said with a brief, sharp-toothed grin; voice dripping sarcasm. He flexed his gauntleted hands in response to the Seth's approach, which quickly turned into a short sprint.
The gang leader came in with a quick right hook that caught Ravenok on the cheek then attempted a left. He quickly dodged the boss's second hook with a simple backwards sway, then grunted as he ducked in under his opponent's swing with one skilled motion then rose with a strong uppercut to the belly. Seth's wind escaped him in a flash which caused him to keel over in pain, allowing Ravenok to hop up and follow through with a brutal downward elbow strike to the man's spine. He crumpled like a pile of rags and face-planted the dirt back street at the martial artist's feet, beside the other dead member crew member. Without respite he lifted up his booted leg and stomped on the fallen man's neck. Seth's pained groaning stopped instantly.
After a few moments of silence, Ravenok brought his gaze up to the remaining three, who had finally decided to draw cruel iron knives. He smirked in response as his right hand clenched and ignited into a quiet burst of hot orange and blue flame, gauntlet and all. Sensing their reluctance he took a couple of steps forward himself.
"... Who's up next?"