ISAR
Arm yourself
There were plenty of fighting rings in town. The further down and the grubbier the location, the better the fighters seemed to be. A mixture of soldiers, mercenaries, sailors and your average troublemakers made it an interesting place to be, and an environment that Isar took to like fish to the sea. At least that's what they told him when he'd finished his third round of spars and lined up for another, without even once having managed to win.
It's because he didn't have any pride to lose, he joked with them. Accepting a bottle of drink, wiping the blood from his face and spitting sand back into the ring, he rolled his shoulders and cast a long look around for whoever he'd be facing this time. He looked very much the part of the underdog. Skinny, with more sinew and bone than muscle to his frame, he moved with the subtle threat of a predator. A starved one, hungry for anything that moved. A shine of blood lingered over his teeth from the last person he'd bit - no rules, they'd said. He took that literally.
It's because he didn't have any pride to lose, he joked with them. Accepting a bottle of drink, wiping the blood from his face and spitting sand back into the ring, he rolled his shoulders and cast a long look around for whoever he'd be facing this time. He looked very much the part of the underdog. Skinny, with more sinew and bone than muscle to his frame, he moved with the subtle threat of a predator. A starved one, hungry for anything that moved. A shine of blood lingered over his teeth from the last person he'd bit - no rules, they'd said. He took that literally.
Because no one else here will save you
