20th of Fall, 512AV
It was an absolutely delightful evening. The moon was shining gaily, the crickets were chirping, the drunks were passing out, and two large, sweaty men were beating each other to death in a mining tunnel. Ignotus was outside for the latter. While he preferred to do most of the injuring himself when he could help it, he wasn't stupid enough to use Reimancy in a city where magic is synonymous with death by lynch mob, and really, it was a bit of a treat to be able to sit back, relax, and watch a wooden chair being broken over someone's head without fear of judgement. The Blood Pits were very crowded indeed that night, and Ignotus didn't need to worry about people asking awkward questions. The better part of the roaring crowd was too busy looking at the spectacle.
A huge, sunburned man, with arms the width of a human head, a perfectly bald dome and face, and bulging veins had another, similarly sized man trapped in a bone-crushing bear hug. The recipient was a ginger with a tangled mane of straw colored hair that was already matted with blood. Both combatants were caked in the stuff, both from each other and from the arena, and both were missing teeth.
An aging man with an empty socket where his left eye should have been lifted an old tin pot in a shaking hand, and banged on it with a bent spoon, shouting, "Bets! Take your bets here! Bets, take 'em!"
Ignotus laughed as the ginger pulled his own legs out from under him, sending both combatants tumbling to the floor. Three vicious headbutts later, he was scrambling on top of his bald opponent, sending hay maker after hay maker flying towards his face. If they didn't hate his kind and his work so much, the Nuit thought, he just might have stayed in Sunberth. Digging into his pockets, Ignotus dropped a silver into the old man's pot to humor him. Why not profit a bit, after all? "For the ginger." he said cheerily. This was going to be a good night.
