News was a common thing to be heard when you drank your fill and waited to be called next for battle within the arena. It had been days since anything interesting had happened for the large lizard who sat himself on the heavily enforced steel barstool. His spot, this lizard of green and blotched brown, was always right here when nothing else was moving as this place always had the best of fights. Trained fighters looking for their next payday getting boozed up and flashing their strength. The very thought was almost irritating. He mumbled under his breath, “Idiotsssss,” But where else was he to get a fix?<br/><br/>Four long digits (fingers) wrapped around a glass filled with an interesting juice, something non-alcoholic but filled with plenty of protein and spices, and tapped at the glass as his mind pondered on how best to keep himself occupied for the next few weeks. Weeks, yeah, until his next fight… they did like to keep him steaming before he could fully vent that building rage. But then a thought popped into his head as sharp yellow teeth showed along that long snoot and the closest thing to a grin one could ever imagine on a pointed nose would draw up slowly. Perhaps a little moon-lighting in bounty hunting if only for the fight had a nice appeal and ring to it and who exactly was easy to note.<br/><br/>As it was said, news in this bar came quickly and was spread like wild-fire; however not everyone had the balls, proverbial or otherwise, to try something as dangerous as the dragon who had claimed the rabbit a few days ago. With a laugh, the monitor-lizard turned to the side, dropped his large legs to the ground and swished his muscled tail about behind him as he stood up and let his simple green clothing drape over his chest and groin. It almost looked like a dress, though was more a robe or westernized hakama (http://www.phoenixjerseyci.com/images/NewStudents/hakamaTie.gif) with a slit in the back to allow his tail that free motion it needed, but calling this attire a “dress” was not the best plan of action should anyone wish to compliment on it.<br/><br/>Pushing though the place he was in slowly, lightly gesturing for those in his way to move with the horn on the tip of his long nose and mouth as he glared those teeth of his in threat, he made his way to what was only able to be called a<em>bounty-board</em>, for the lack of creativity and originality. Scanning the pages with those dark and demon-like eyes he looked for what he wanted and once found, snatched it cleanly off with his sharp nails working like a knife to hold the paper in his place and talk directly at it, “A piece off your wing makesssss a grand trophy. Though your choicsssssse in women issss commendable.” Flicking the paper free of his claw the creature stood there a moment before realizing he was being eye-balled from across the room from the peripheral of his vision. Someone watching the board or just him, a small gray and furry thing off to the side was being very nosy for some reason.<br/><br/>Now directly moving toward the female who he thought had an eye on him, steps were made until the table was firmly pressing into his legs. “You know me as Zeu of the Arena.” The name and title hissed as his blue tongue tasted the air around this beautiful but rude thing in front of him; then there came a question, “You have a name, rodent?” Rodents were always somehow tastier than the other farm-raised types that were offered up for food; something about how their hearts pumped so much faster than the rest.