Otter Creek I down a coffee, grab my axe and then I'm out

He was crying, sobbing, he was pathetic. A look of utter disgust painted his visage as he looked down on the boy as his ears turned away in the attempt to try and ignore the gross sad sobs that fluttered from this one's maw. They twisted and turned in a look that almost gave him horns as they turned slightly inward. 

With every stutter the boy muttered, he grew more and more irritated. A piteous boy and nothing more. 

Quit your sniveling and speak properly! The words exploded from his maw, teeth snapping to punctuate his bellow, a low growl gently tickling his throat. You are nowhere, I am Vengence, Warlord of the Nightwalkers and you are in my presence. I have half the mind to end your pathetic blubbering here and now. Their location didn't matter, what mattered was who this boy was facing... and it was quite possibly the worst individual to try and get pitty from. 

No. This was was a monster, a boogeyman, the one who pitted no one and feared nothing; the day that death would come knocking, he would only claw his way back to the realm of the living in order to die a worthy death in the midst of battle, bathed in blood and pain. There was no comfort to be found in this pit of vipers.