It is a hot and humid August night out, you'd originally come into the club in search of a cold drink and some air-conditioning, but while you're drink had indeed been served over ice, you'd soon discovered it is at least 10 degrees warmer in here than outside. But you don't care about the heat anymore; the Raven is a great club! You look around at the decorative chains hanging from the ceiling, the flashing red and black lights, the myriad of scantily clad dancers and just sit back and enjoy the spectacle of it all.

You sip your drink and let your eyes wander about the club. Suddenly you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, you're being watched. Trying to be subtle, you peer out from under lowered lashes at the crowd. Not seeing anyone, you pick up your glass and move down the bar a bit, closer to a rather harmless looking group of college kids and strike up a conversation with a history major.

Shrugging, you turn and order another drink, something with a pink cocktail umbrella. You pluck out an ice cube and pop it in your mouth. You're happily munching away, when all of the sudden a chair goes flying through the air and a bar fight breaks out!

Jumping back to avoid the blows, you see that those 'nice college kids' you were talking to earlier had apparently decided to try some intramural boxing with some more than willing volunteers from the mosh pit.

Deciding that while you had been having a great time, staying at the club probably isn't worth getting your teeth knocked out, you throw down a couple of bucks to pay for your drinks and head for the door.

Darting between combatants, you accidentally knock into one of the club goers.

"Sorry," You mumble, but as you look up, the red hared man you'd jostled turns around and stares down at you with yellow eyes! You yelp and jump back, but in less than a second his eyes are brown.

You blink, trying to figure out if what you thought you saw was what you really saw. Taking a step back, you see that the man is still staring at you. You've pretty much convinced yourself his eyes had just been a trick of the light, but now your earlier feeling of being watched is reasserting itself. Almost without thinking, you turn and run back into the melee.

It only takes you three seconds and two blows to the back to realize that you don't want to be here either. Looking around you see you have to make a decision.