Ditch and check out the fights

You glance between the bar maiden and the bard a few times before coming to your decision.

“Alright, I’ll head off to check out this fightin’ pit o’ yours.” You say before standing.

“If the door guy bothers you, tell em Sasha sent you.” She says waving you off. You look over towards the old door under the stairs.

“Yup that’s gotta be it.” You quietly say to yourself as you push your way through a crowd. Reaching the door, you push it open revealing a staircase that curves downwards. The scent of dust assaults your senses as you descend the creaky old stair case. Before too long, you reach the bottom which features a large steel door with a closed eye slit. Noting the cliché of the set up, you knock three times before a stern set of eyes look down on you. A gruff voice calls out.

“Yeah, whaddya want?”

“Lookin’ fer the action down here. Sasha sent me.” You hear the voice grunt in approval as the door opens for you. A comically short man with huge muscles ushers you through the door. The interior of this place is much bigger than you expected. Before you lay a room with very similar dimensions to the tavern above. A raised stage in the middle of the tavern hosts a fight between two shirtless men. Ropes surround the ring as the fighters seem to be using them as a boundary. You watch as the two men spar, exchanging various punches and grapples as they maneuver the ring. One dives in, trying to tackle the other at the waist as he successfully gets him to the ground. You watch in awe as the guy on the ground wraps his legs around his assaulter, and flips him out of the ring. Such martial prowess, what the hell kind of fight is this?

“AND BRUTE IS OUT OF THE RING! HE IS AT THE CROWD’S MERCY NOW.” A booming voice echoes. You watch as the fighter known as Brute is carried away by the crowd and laid on a table. A few honest looking patrons seem to be tending to his wounds, while others pour ale into his mouth. A small man who is trying to pass as a medic appears to be drawing something phallic looking on his forehead. Nice.

“THE CHAMPION IS STENDAR OF GALVADAR, THOSE WHO BETTED ON BRUTE BETTER COUGH UP THAT COIN.” The booming voice appears to be coming from an old gray-haired mage. He now stands in the ring with the champion. He has some sort of cone shaped sea shell which seems to be increasing the volume of his voice. You move to get closer to front row as you watch the announcer continue his speech. All around you, coin seems to exchange hands as the debts from last round are settled.

“NOW FOR SOMETHING A LITTLE DIFFERENT. ITS TIME FOR OUR LADIES ROUND. OUR FIRST FIGHTER IS THE BEAUTIFUL, THE UNDEFEATED, THE PATRON SAINT OF MESSING PEOPLE’S FACES UP, CRUSDADER ELSARA!” as he yells this, a striking girl pulls herself up into the ring. The fighter known as Elsara is a girl with shoulder length ginger hair and green eyes to match. She has a complexion almost as pale as your own, and seems to move with confidence and grace. Judging by her appearance she seems like a half elf, probably in her early 20s. The announcer is pulled aside by the short man who guards the door as they exchange a few words.

“IT WOULD SEEM OUR SECOND FIGHTER HAS HAD A BIT TOO MUCH AND CAN’T MAKE IT TO THE RING. IT WILL BE AN AUTOMATIC WIN FOR CRUSADER ELSARA UNLESS SOMEONE STEPS UP TO CHALLENGE HER FOR THE TITLE.”