Glade 18, 122
Morin looked up at the sign attached the front of the old warehouse. Rezzo's. According to one of Morin's neighbors, there weren't many entry level jobs around these parts, unless you were willing to pay with your body. Prostitute or fighter. If you got good at either of those skill sets, more opportunities would open up for you. When Morin had inquired about fighting, he was directed to Rezzo's.
It was one of the more popular fight pits of the area, even attracting some people from across the river. It was run by the River Rats, the gang that controlled most of the river front territory of Trashtown. This river control, while not giving them the largest of territories, did make them one of the wealthier and more influential gangs. Rezzo was the number three of the gang, well known throughout Trashtown, with both an appreciation for the violent arts and a reputation of extreme violence himself.
He maintained many fight pits along the riverfront, but only the entry level had his name on the front of it. He used it as a place for new fighters to come and try their luck. If they showed promise, they got invited to fight at the more exclusive pits, with more difficult challengers.
Morin followed a pair of people into the building, where they were frisked for weapons by a pair of men, one an Ork the size of a tree and the other a human, shorter than Morin. Waved through, Morin found himself in the huge space that was packed full, smoky, and loud. People of all types were here, as well as a large amount of brutish looking security, all wielding clubs of some fashion.
Morin made his way over to a table where a pair of women were sitting. One had abnormally large eyes, and antennae coming out of her pink hair, the other a Hobgoblin of rippling muscle and a scowl permanent upon her face. The first smiled broadly, "Hey hon! My name is Windy, I represent the River Rats. You signing up for the fights?" Morin nodded, "Ooh, a quiet type. Hot." She looked at her clipboard, "I've not seen you around, you new?" Again, a nod. "Alright, I'll need your name."
"Morin."
She nodded now, "Alright Morin, since this is your first time, you will have to fight today. If you win, you'll get a flat rate payout, no percentages. If you lose, you get nothing. You're responsible for your own medical coverage. If you win, you'll begin your placements for ranking, a series of ten fights for us to determine where you stand. Upon completing your placements, if you rank high enough, you'll be hired on as an officially sanctioned fighter, at which time you'll be salaried plus percentage winnings, and receive healthcare coverage. Your first fight today will be against another first timer as well. If you make it into placements, you'll be scheduled against others in their placements. If this is amenable to you, sign this contract below. This contract is what we'll file to the OIR. All winnings will have the OIR's cut taking out before being paid to you. We don't need any of our fighters getting erased."
Morin shrugged. This was more formal than he'd expected. But this was the Imperium and the OIR did exist. He signed his name, the fae signed as a representative of the River Rats, and the Hobgoblin woman signed as a witness. "Wonderful! If you want to wait around, we'll call your name when it is your time to fight."
Morin nodded, "Thank you."
He turned and pushed through the crowd, approaching one of the many fighting rings, eventually getting to a ringside spot. In it, a dwarf and a goblin were grappling. He could see that this was a no holds barred type of fighting, just like in the labor camps. There was clawing, eye gouging, biting, hair pulling. Morin smiled. He knew he could do well here.
