THROW MY FRIENDS DOWN IN THE DITCHES before they even know what I've come here for The man narrowed his golden eyes as he surveyed the battlefield around him. He tried to imagine all of the blood that had been shed here, all of the glory and gore. It was fantastic. He felt his lips pull into a deadly grin as his steps paused, and he stretched his massive black frame. He was ready to write his own story into this stained, broken earth. He would spill blood. He would be victorious. It was time for Charon to make his mark. His grin faded away as eyes flashed with greed and he sent up a call. His low demanding voice traveled across the barren territory, and as it filtered into the distance he gave an impatient flick of his tail. He was hungry for another spar. He needed to sharpen his skills if he was going to conquer Olympus. Come and get me, he thought once more, hackles prickling on the back of his neck. Who would be his unlucky opponent this time?

He was looking for a fight, see where his skills were slacking. If he was going to protect his family and any of his old pack-mates, he at least needed to be able to fight like he used to. Time had passed since his eldest had destroyed their peaceful home, he had to be prepared for it it happened again. And so he had headed off towards the battlefield, the land known to house many fights, both small for practice and brutal for one's life. For him, it would be practice, but at the same time he wanted to feel the burn, the stinging sensation of fangs sinking into his flesh. And so he had arrived, ears flicking to the side at the sound of a call, summoning an opponent he assumed. Lips carefully peeled back in a grin, his paws beginning to carry him in the direction it had come from. Within minutes he would find a man standing lone, dark with strange golden markings wrapping around his limbs. Interesting, but that wasn't why he was here. Deviant would stop a few feet in front of the stranger, tail swinging calmly behind him, demeanor relaxed... for the moment. "I assume you called?" He'd question with a raised brow, golden gaze briefly glancing over the other man's figure to see what he was up against. "I'm looking for blood, can you deliver?" What was the point in this if the other wasn't willing to spill some blood, to feel this a few days from now and having gained what was needed. "normal. speech. thought. you."

THROW MY FRIENDS DOWN IN THE DITCHES before they even know what I've come here for Charon watched with bright, hungry eyes as another man approached him. His opponent was decorated in various shades of grey with a strange cross on his left shoulder. The ebony brute squinted at it for a second before both of their golden eyes would meet. His attitude seemed very relaxed and confident, and he stood mere inches higher than Charon did. The brute would grumble with frustration at that fact, but not loud enough to be heard. On the outside he would wear an arrogant grin, and his tail would swing easily as well. Upon hearing this brute's words, however, Charon would laugh. "If you mean to fight me, sir, I shall deliver. But yours will be the blood that is spilled." That last phrase would come with a small growl, but his smile remained. The battlefield would sigh eerily as a spring wind would drag through, carrying the smell of dirt and bone. Excitement knotted in the man's stomach. This opponent was large, confident, and muscular. This would be an interesting fight that would earn him some skill either way. But there wasn't going to be any other way. Charon Olympus was going to win this battle, and every one after that. This was his covenant to the world. No one would defeat him on his rise to glory. When the odds were against him, still he would fight. This would be a test of strength and of wits. Charon felt his lips stretch wider as he glanced at his opponent. "Take the first move, my friend," he said with a poisonous hiss.