Yorgon, The Butcher!

"Give a warm round of applause and a hearty cheer..." The Judge continues "To none other, then the man who has been winning constantly for weeks so far..."

"Hope I didn't bite off more than I can chew..." you mumble as you watch the announcer.

"Yorgon, The Butcher!!!" he screams out causing the entire crowd to let loose a ton of screams.

"The Butcher?" you ponder "What the hell..."

You see a taller, heftier man walking through the crowd, pushing his way past all the civilians. He's tall, over six feet, pretty chubby and he wore pants, a type of blood proof apron, a chain mail top and he had two decent sized butcher's cleavers. He looked basically just like your normal every day butcher...which, would make sense for his name.

"Champion of Nillix?!?" he steps over the ropes "He just met his match!!!" he holds both his cleavers up in the air as he spins in a circle, getting more and more cheers from the members.

It wasn't long before you ready yourself, pulling out your short sword and dagger combination and stay in one corner of the arena. This so-called Butcher does the same in the opposite while the announcer throws off a few more words getting more bets from the people and trying his best to hype up the fight.

"Bets are closed!!!" he yells "Now, let's see who is the more powerful warrior!!" his voice goes mysterious "The second place finisher of Nillix, a champion of Rathkin or..." he smiles as he looks at The Butcher "Our champion of the Slums, the undefeated man of many weeks, The Butcher!!"

When the announcer yelled to fight and a bell rung through out the arena you bent your knees, ready to take on this man.

You honestly expected more. You remember that when you first got to the Slums you were already winning a lot of your fights even though you were nothing but a fresh fighter. You had this nostalgic thought in your head that the Slums have a bunch of top end fighters when in reality, it's mainly nothing but bullies, drunks and people that owe debts that fight in the slums.

The Butcher was slow, didn't have proper footwork and telegraphed his moves about twice as worse as Zoe ever does. Within your first attack you already sliced open his left calf extremely bad which caused him to hobble around even slower. He would put so much **** behind his attacks that you could easily dodge and evade them.

After figuring out he wasn't much of a threat you began to toy around with him a bit. You know you should just finish him off before you make a mistake but with every slash, with every dodge and with every parry the crowd cheered louder and louder and it make you get even more excited.

After yours boots were muddied, your armor had a sheen of blood on it and you were softly panting you decided to end it. So with a spin to the side and your short sword through the back of his neck, his body collapsed into the muddy and bloody arena floor. You played the part to hype up the crowd as best as you could. You didn't want their champion of the slums to get bested in a little under fifteen seconds to you gave into their cheers.

You hold up both your weapons high in the air, blood is dripping down the edge of your short sword and falling to the ground below. You can't help but move in circles, looking around all the cheering fans of yours.

"And the winner..." the judge moves up to you, gripping your wrist and holding it high into the air with your own "Darien, The Fang!!!"

"The Fang...?" you mumble out "Huh..." you smile as you look around the crowds. So many cheers, smiles and tits flashing your direction and you couldn't help but feel in complete glee. Before, you know you looked like shit, smelled like shit and even fought like shit. Now though, after much training and becoming what you became, you fight with grace, look like an absolutely monster in your armor and your musky scent cause women's panties to drop.

After leaving the arena, you get swarmed by many new fans. Young kids, too young to be witnessing this are enthralled by you. Royalty members want to pay you to fight under their names and even random civilians just want to shake the hand of the Fang.

You lost track of time, spending far too many minutes as the amount of publicity you received was more then you could imagine. After finishing up with the last civilian you made your way over to the bookie and collected the gold you were owed for winning in your fight. Not a hefty chunk at all, but enough to last about a week or so of living in the Outer City of Rathkin you thought.

It was at that point, when the last person at your side left that you realized you just spent a long as hell time down in the Slums "Oh fuck..." you groan out as you think about Lexie. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit..." you start to move with haste back up the same stairwell you came down from to get back to the Outer City of Rathkin. You were gone a lot longer then you said you were going to be and the longer you're here in Rathkin, especially since Edmin doesn't want you here, the bigger the chance you'll get caught and thrown out, if not even something worse...