<div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">~Arena Tavern~: Combatants Only</span></strong></div><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v296/rcburner/Warriors/Oni3-1.jpg)</div><div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v296/rcburner/Warriors/SpearswordWoman-1.jpg)</div><br/>"I'm surprised.  Shouldn't you be watching the competition?"<br/><br/>Dust leaned heavily against the moldering old wall at the back of the bar, dressed in full battle regalia that consisted of a few too many layers of leather and huddled up as though a deathly chill were in the air.  Her delicate gray eyes only barely peered over the thick black collar of her vest, which threatened to swallow up the rest of her head at any moment.  One leg bent, the other rigid, and both hands splayed out against the moist stones at her back.  It was a common stance to find her in, and to any onlooker it would seem like she were attempting to ground herself to the world, as though she might simply vanish at any given moment.  Indeed, she would have completely blended into the background if not for the shock of pink hair hanging over her face.<br/><br/>"Dust worries far too much, ya?  I fight when I fight, they fight when they fight, we fight when we fight.  And when they fight,<em>I</em>drink!"<br/><br/>The woman's companion, meanwhile, was far less unassuming.  As if Hettún's tremendous girth wasn't already enough to make any room feel considerably less spacious, the oni's vulgar red skin shone brilliantly in the torchlight, the orange flames dancing like gems across glistening flesh.  He had a table all to himself, partially because there were few that dared to drink with him and partially because the crude iron chair nailed to the floor beside it had been constructed specifically to handle his weight.  The table itself was currently covered in no less than three dozen flagons the size of watermelons, and most of them had already been drained completely dry.  He raised one in the air towards the woman and gave her a toothy grin before downing it as well, the excess dribbling down his chin.<br/><br/>Dust sighed, but a faint smile was hidden behind the collar.  "If I didn't know any better, I would almost call you wise.  But it would not hurt to keep an eye on the others.  Particularly that upstart Vanncrest.  And lest you forget, Lady Sinoraa was one of the three to have bested you so far.  You should be more careful."<br/><br/>Wiping the alcohol on the back of his sturdy arm, Hettún let out a great rumbling laugh.  "Hettún is always careful, little bird!  But it is not important that you win.  Is only important that you<em>fight.</em>All else doesn't matter.  If I am victor, then I have had good time.  If I am the one to lose, then I have also had good time!  I just bleed more, then try harder next time," the Oni said, nodding sagely.  He then winked and reached out to pat Dust on the shoulder, which inadvertently nearly spent her sprawling to the floor.  "Besides, I only watch your fights!  Yours and Silly Armor Man, yes?"<br/><br/>Managing to catch herself just in time, Dust swatted his hand away and shot him a reprimanding look.  "Well it's important to<em>me</em>that you win.  There could come a day where you bleed too much and don't get a second chance," she said sharply.  Hettún glanced away and scratched the side of his face, looking somewhat discomforted.<br/><br/>Lowering her voice somewhat, she continued: "Every year more and more bizarre fighters show up at the gates, looking to make a name for themselves.  I think you've spent so long in here that you've forgotten that there's still a world outside, a world that<em>some</em>of us are working to get back to.  Times are changing.<em>People</em>are changing.  People were never what you'd call<em>accepting</em>of demons, but it's only getting worse.  They cheer for you now, but the moment the battle's over you're nothing more than a monster to them."<br/><br/>Hettún furrowed his brow, casting his gaze down at the next full mug taking it unsteadily in his grip.  "Is how things are.  How they are.  Can't change them.  But I will fight," he said firmly, nodding and staring straight ahead.  "I<em>will </em>fight."<br/><br/>Dust watched him drink for a few moments, then slid back against the wall.  She closed her eyes and shook her head, but the faintest hint of laughter crept into her voice.  "Incorrigible.  You make so many enemies, but you don't even see them.  I hear that even Leon the Angel is gunning for you now.  There are some people saying that the gladiators should be purged of the 'Evil', or something like that.  I bet even Sinoraa will come under fire before too long.  With any luck they'll finally banish that sonova bitch Ace once and for all," she added darkly.<br/><br/>The Ace of Pins.  Horror incarnate.  Completely undefeated in combat, purportedly present during the founding of the Arena, and an all around despicable creature.  At the very least he wasn't allowed to show himself for more than a day every few months or so, and they never let him fight anyone popular.  The weak and the despised were his prey, and he was extraordinarily good at cleaning up when a surplus of riffraff were clogging up the Gladiatorial Quarters.  Suffice it to say that he wasn't on good terms with anyone, but Hettún was the only one that he had a personal vendetta against.  The Oni had a knack for arousing the ire of all the worst sorts of people, often by accident.<br/><br/>"Who?" Hettún said suddenly, his voice garbled as another few pints of hard liquor slid down his gaping throat.<br/><br/>"Nevermind..."