"Anyone trained with weapons and owning a suit of armor is welcome here, even if your background isn't exactly sterling. There isn't even an entry fee. The only catch is that if you get injured or lose your life, there's no recourse. Of course, even if you tried to appeal, people would just treat you like a joke."
A voice spoke up from behind Eric.
Eric turned and saw the source of the voice: a young man wearing Chain Armor.
He had a bit of fuzz under his nose that could barely be called a mustache. It seemed to be an attempt to look more mature, but it had the opposite effect.
He wasn't tall, barely reaching Eric's shoulder. The suit of Chain Armor he wore was a terrible fit; his frame was so small that the mail looked like it was crushing him.
The sleeves were clearly far too long, and the mail coif hung so low it obstructed his vision, forcing him to constantly tug at it.
He looked like a teenager who'd run away from home and stolen his father's armor.
