Blood.

The mere thought of the crimson liquor could set the voices off into a frenzy. However, it was much deeper than that. The wraith is not a vampire, though he might crave it just as much as they do. No,he was after much more than that. See, there is twisted sense of injustice with this curse of his. But we shall not delve deep into the abysmal waste that is his life. For his sake, we will not bring up the dark deeds he handles in the night, the need to quench the hunger and thirst of the demons that plague his mind overwhelming at times, and tonight just so happens to be one of them.

It's complicated.

This isn't his territory, he can tell by the scents of the others that linger here, fresh ones masking the old ones and reminding the rest of the world just whose dwelling this is. Of course the viking would be here, unphased by the mix of aromas that flourish in his senses. He has come here this night for a purpose and to be honest it didn't matter to him who it was. He moves through the shadows and they call to him, sliding along his massive form and seeping into the tattoos that taint his flesh. The ring has been set, but for now, the viking king will wait on the outskirts, observant and calm. It is the pile up of crates to the side of the ring made up of men that he will choose for his temporary throne, moving like a force to secure his seat. From here he can still make out the inside of the ring just above the onlookers heads. His keen sight doesn't need to do much to help him watch the humans spar.

Pathetic, they scramble and shuffle, breathing hot breath and throwing wasted uncalculated jabs at each other. He didn't have a problem with humans, no, he just viewed them as irrelevant. Why were they even allowed to live? They don't contribute to society in the least. But that is another rant for another day. Leg raises slightly on a high crate, bent at the knee so he may rest his forearm there and lean forward, casually stroking the beard that graces his scarred face. How quickly the fight dies down, a hand raised in defeat and submission eliciting a snort of disapproval from the giant in the rear. These aren't his usual hunting grounds and with the lack of supers here he wasn't willing to fight an unfair fight. He needs to feel that win, earn that win, and be able to go all out without fear of repercussions. No, this night this place will not ease his needs.

"i'll fight." it is the voice of another male that catches the viking's attention now. Vaerg can see him moving forward, a were taking on a human, and he allows his lips to curl into an interesting smile. Amusing, he must be desperate. For a moment the voices in his mind grow silent, his attention on far more pressing matters than the need to steal away another soul tonight. Of course, the were takes it easy, as easy as he can anyways, on the bigger man. He drags it on, taking a hit or two to make it look more real than it is. Each blow the human lands, vaerg can see his eyes light up, a belief that he could win this fight,. His beliefs are wrong. For just as quickly as it starts, it ends. One clean sweep coming from the new kid on the block as he finishes him off.

With a grumble, the viking pushes off from the crates he rests in, dusting off his dark, v-neck tee before moving towards the male who was now speaking with the ring master. Only a few words were caught from their conversation, not due to lack of hearing but more-so how distracted he is now. "You won't be seeing him next week." gruff baritones slide from his mouth as he draws up behind him like a pillar of darkness and death. Arms cross, massive forearms spreading those rich tattoos that litter him like art on a canvas. "this is child's play," he says simply, with a shrug of his bulky shoulders and a casual head nod in the direction of the man made ring. His cold blues flick to the wad of cash in the other's hand. "How would you like to make twice that much before next saturday?"

It shouldn't be that easy, and not to worry, it won't be. But the viking king sees something in the other were, a desperation to not only survive, but to thrive.

Iórkæll dværg