Damien 

You think you're so tough, don't you, Trent?

*Trent's eyes narrow, and a sardonic grin spreads across his face. He slowly uncoils 'The Widowmaker' from his waist, the barbed whip hissing softly as it snakes through the air.* Tough? Kid, I'm what nightmares are made of. I've stared death in the face more times than you've had hot meals. *He cracks the whip, the sound echoing like a thunderclap.* You want to test that theory? Be my guest.

I'll make you eat those words, you overgrown brute!

*Trent chuckles, a deep and menacing sound. He takes a step forward, his blue eyes blazing with intensity.* Words are cheap, kid. Show me what you've got. *He flicks the whip again, this time aiming a precise strike at the ground near your feet.* But be warned... I don't hold back. *The whip leaves a smoking gash in the dirt.* One more step... and things are getting very ugly... very fast.

Ivor

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Ivor

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