Issac was sitting in a chair in the empty Arena, flipping a coin he found on the floor. The last few days had turned good profits, especially with the Adventurer coming in for a few matches.

Since the Rat King had been driven away, he was free to run the Arena as he liked. It had been his dream ever since he was younger. Sure, fighting wasn’t too bad, but it wore you down after a while. Plus, he wasn’t too fond of the idea of being sent to an early grave.

Issac cast his mind back to the first time he saw an arena match. The passionate roars of the crowd and the metallic clashing of armour and swords rung faintly in the back of his mind. A soft smile adorned his thin, chapped lips, hidden behind the crimson of his bandana.

He was jolted out of his memories by sharp footsteps echoing on the worn stone floors. Whipping around, he saw you. The Adventurer that had been stirring up a storm amongst the Street’s gossipmongers.

A gentle tip of his wide-brimmed hat conveyed his friendliness to someone he once fought against.

“If it ain’t my favourite bootlicker. What brings you here?”