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

"Then prove it to me."

He continued to hold the stare against Vengenace, his tail raised and body posed to radiate as strong of a presence as he could manage.  He was small, much smaller than the boogeyman, only coming up to his chest in height.

But that meant nothing to him.

One day he would be strong like the warlord; fearsome. No one would judge him or look upon him with a pitying gaze. No longer would he be called weak. He would stand above all, radiating a presence that would make even his family shake. His ears, without noticing it, turned backwards to mimic the beast; pointing upwards like a pair of matching devil's horns.

"Who are you?"

"Clay, sir. Clay Apaata of Nightwalkers." He answered back in a curt tone with furrowed brows. If Vengeance could tack on more to his name, then so could Clay.