Slickfang
A hench for hire

(Image taken from the TV show Spartacus, Blood and Sand)
The crowd roared.
Fighting pits had been banned in the City of Fakoom but that did not mean they were gone.
In the deepest darkest corners of its many layers of ancient Imperial Ruins a crowd of at least 1000 souls watched the lanky Orkin face off against her foe, a mean looking Devahni with a leather mask covering half her face.
Both had knives and both were chained by their free hands to the other.
The Orkin pulled hard and the Devahni bawked, earning herself a slash across her guarding arm but she bit back with equal ferocity and took a slice from the Orkin's exposed collar.
The ground below drank deep of their blood quickly as if it had been parched for sustenance too long.
Another clash left the Orkin's mouth bleeding from a lip cut and the Devahni nursing a bruised chest.
The crowd began to chant,
"FINISH HER, FINISH HER, FINISH HER..."
For whom did they cheer? Only they knew but it was the Orkin who spurred on and threw the knife at her foe. While the Devahni moved sideways the Orkin leaped forward and grappled her to the ground wrapping the cain that linked them about her opponents kneck. Too late the Devahni dropped her own knife and tried to overpower the Orkin whose face grew wide in a smile so full of teeth it looked as if her mouth would burst.
After a short eternity the Devahni was dead in her hands.
Slickfang stood over the blue corpse and raised her fist in victory.
The crowd elated at her triumph threw coin and trinkets upon her.
Today was a good day for some.
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The crowd would drink and feast, stalls and makeshift tents of scrap cloth and reused wood formed what might generously be called a slum about the pit, the centre of their little world.
Slickfang liked a good drink after a kill and this kill was worth it, she had grappled with the masked one before and she relived that past fight as she savoured her victory.
But it would not last. The trinkets and coin she got were a small fortune in the dark of the world but up top in the bustling city they would not buy her a single weeks rent.
Another bitter reality she faced.
So perhaps it was by providence that as she was pouring herself another drink and mulling over her wasted talent that the woman appeared. Another Devahni but not the one she killed, nothing like her really. She wore loose clothing and a weathered look.
"Fuckd'yuwannnnnnn?"
Her voice was crunching glass in a clay pot as she asked the woman what business she had. She had the smell of topsider on her, not enough rot.
@Vyn