Start From the Bottom

A rise in the commotion alerted Tarmen to the end of the previous match, followed by the guard arriving again. The man simply tossed his chin towards the only other way out.
Entering the makeshift arena, Tarmen felt a tingling start from the back of his head and trail down. A grin spread across his face as he embraced his environment, ready for whatever this city had to throw at him.
His right shoulder had a hitch and his left arm was still figuring itself out, things he could work with. It would have to, as an opponent arrived.
He was young, maybe younger than Barrel Boy, though definitely more cut. Tarmen saw the still healing marks of past fights, faded bruises and a very broken nose were the most visible. The weary look in his eyes and the haggard stance he held told him the rest.
Wasn’t hard to guess he was facing one of the bottom of the barrel.
He cast a glance into the crowd, hoping he was lucky enough to send it towards the cheap bastard that thought his money was worth so little. Then he cracked his neck, gritting through a sore pain in his shoulder before charging.To his credit, he didn’t panic like so many trained warriors had before, but held himself firm to receive the impact. Tarmen liked that.
For all of his determination though, the boy’s past fights had done Tarmen’s work for him. He moved too slow as he barreled him to the ground.
Tarmen could hear the crowd roar, letting it fuel his spirit like the finest of ales. War had never filled him like this, just a desperate struggle to survive and losing no matter what. Here in the ring, there was a focus to the struggle that made it enjoyable. He could revel in the sport among a sea of others that agreed, cheering and jeering in a chaotic unity.
He was sure the boy beneath him felt differently and he was sure his story would have brought sympathy to Voah and Alexis. Tarmen couldn’t care less. The moment he had stood his ground, he had chosen his path, which unluckily went through him.
His guard was good, blocking blow after blow with a trained ease that made Tarmen wonder if he had been paid to lose. To test that thought, the boy found a pattern in his swings that he exploited quickly, swatting a fist aside to bring both fists into Tarmen’s chest. With surprising force he was knocked back, letting his opponent wriggle free as Tarmen rolled to launch again.
He enjoyed the surprise that took as he wrapped an arm around the boy’s neck and swung behind him. Good to know this was a new move.
As the two smacked the ground, Tarmen could hear a mixed reaction from the crowd. As he mounted his now choking foe, he imagined many of the words he heard around him were various slurs and curses. Maybe some cheers for gaining them some extra coin or just an interesting show.
As much as he imagined though, he had to remind himself this was just a runt. After clawing through the underworld, facing mad dogs of the mountains, savage cannibals, and damned assassins, he wanted to see what this city had to throw at him. Without further flair he socked the boy once in the face, bouncing his head off the agitated dirt to knock him out. He then stood to kick the prone form away and bellowed to the crowd.
“Dro! Dro!”
This livened the cheers and brays, Tarmen paying little mind to the body being dragged away as he basked in the mind numbing roar, hungry for the next challenger.

Dro: More