Bane

You make your way over to the gruff looking mirror Doppler had identified as Bane. He's in the middle of an intense sparring match with a ridgeback who you think is named Mistral. When they notice you waiting, they agree to take a quick break. He moves toward you cautiously, leveling you with a calculating gaze.

...and who are you? Oh. Welcome, I guess. Feel free to look around the camp. Just know we'll be keeping an eye on you. If you need a place to stay, go ahead and set up a tent. If you don't have a tent and can't find any spares, we've probably got a room you could use. Somebody inside can help you with that. Now if you don't mind, I've got a match to win.

His wings ached. Binder how they ached; but, when didn't they? How long had it been like this, fighting fang and claw day after day? He couldn't remember the last time some part of his body didn't sting.

Bane bemoaned his circumstances as he tended to the wounds from his last match. That Coatl had put up a nasty fight. It was the best opponent he'd had in a long time, and had really put him through his paces. They'd both walked away with more than a few injuries.

Searing pain shot up his left leg as he tried to move it. Broken. Great. That meant limping his way to the nearest healer to have it fixed. How annoying. He was so tired of sacrificing his health, risking his life even, for what? Money? Reputation? Fulfillment? Those were in awfully short supply for most around here, and despite devoting years of his life to the arena, he was no different.

It was as Bane went to find the nearest dragon who would help him, he decided he'd had enough. This style of living was giving him nothing and getting him nowhere. As soon as his body no longer felt like it was run over by a mammophant, he would announce his retirement. It was time for him to abandon this constant struggle and build a happier, more peaceful life.