Jordan yawned loudly as left the unconscious gang members in an alley a few blocks away from Jeremiah's bar. Normally he would have been worried about the scene that carrying three bodies on his shoulder would cause, but the empty streets of Mori Town eliminated that as a concern. The glow of the Iruyori faded from his arm as he began walking through the streets, and he still found it difficult to get used to the freedom of being allowed to use it whenever he wanted to. His obachan had been very strict about its usage while he had been training, and it had not even been a full week since he left her temple.
The dirt streets of Mori Town did not appear to be well maintained, as deep tread marks from heavy loads and various muddy patches made Jordan stumble and curse more than once as he trudged through the road toward the town center. Exiting out from an alley onto the main road, he looked around to see that he had arrived in a residential area of town, though he frowned as he walked down the road and examined the houses that he passed by. Many of the sliding paper doors were hastily patched with wood or other random household supplies, and the faint splatter of dried blood was present on several of the doorways.
Before he could examine the situation any further, he began to hear the sounds of shouting from a few blocks away, and he turned his attention back to the town center as the sounds of clashing steel joined the yelling. He ensured that the hammers on his side were easily accessible as he moved closer, though he sighed in annoyance as it became clear that the yelling he had been hearing was only getting more chaotic and shrill the closer that he got. He pulled the water skin from his bag and took a big swig, hoping that hydration would be the key in fighting off a noise induced headache.
While the part of Mori Town that he had already seen had been clearly affected by the presence of the gang, the town center was surprisingly well maintained. The ground had gone from a muddy mess to a well maintained path, and the paper lanterns that hung above each side of the street were spaced out in an organized fashion that seemed strangely professional for a cage match. After walking for a couple of blocks and attempting to tune out the various cheers and jeers, he came upon a large wooden sign in the middle of the road. He stopped to read it, noting the large arrow below the text that appeared to point toward a massive lodge-like building.
Welcome to the Cage of Fate, a daily fight night hosted by the Red Knuckle Gang! 1st prize is 2000 gold and sign up is free, so what do you have to lose?
The sign was not subtle, but Jordan had to admit that the simple messaging got the job done, and he made his way toward the massive house that the sign was pointing toward. His eyes wandered over the structure, and they immediately rolled once he noticed the additions that the gang had made. What was once a simple yet elegant wooden design was now peppered with iron brackets and barred windows in a lazy attempt to appear intimidating, and Jordan almost felt himself cringe as he reached out for the door handle that was surrounded by metal spikes. He had to resist the primal urge that his body felt to leave the establishment immediately upon hearing the shouting from within, but he took a deep breath and reluctantly entered.
What he noticed first was the smell, not because of how unpleasant the mixture of whisky and sweat was, but because it was somehow so potent that it burned his nostrils just to breathe in the air. Three long wooden tables occupied the main floor, with roughly a dozen chairs on each side that were occupied by one seedy looking character or another. Several goblins and halflings darted between the tables, hastily exchanging varying amounts of gold with the individual patrons that Jordan assumed had placed a bet of some sort. The front counter was being run by 3 red Dragonborn women, all of whom were wearing bright red blazers with the image of a knuckle on their breast pockets. Above their heads were chalkboard signs that were separated into 3 categories: name, status, and record. The dozens of names across 4 different boards caused Jordan to whistle in surprise, and the woman at the center of the Dragonborn receptionist trio took notice.
"Young man, can I help you?" She asked. Her voice was so scratchy that if Jordan couldn't see her, he would have assumed that she was a heavy smoker, which was true in a way. The humor of this thought made Jordan laugh to himself, and a small puff of smoke shot out from the dragonborn's nostrils as she cleared her throat.
"CAN I HELP YOU, SIR?!" She asked, her voice booming across the room while still keeping a professional tone.
"Oh, sorry miss. I thought of something funny," Jordan said, his tone so matter-of-fact that the receptionist briefly considered if she was in the wrong for thinking that what he said was not a normal response. "Is this where I sign up for the fights?" He asked, having to crane his neck up to make look her in her massive blue eyes.
"Yes…but there are no weight divisions, you will just be randomly paired against someone else who signed up. People getting torn to shreds can make for a good spectacle, but you're a cute little guy, so I think that it would be a bit of a waste personally," the receptionist on the left said, her bright purple eyes the only discernible difference between her coworkers and herself.
"Stop flirting Cynthia, the kid will wish he just died in the cage if Forest hears," the receptionist on the right said in a protective, motherly tone. "Hello, I'm Areva, and I can sign you up. We have a spot in 5 minutes against Ontavius, follow me," she said, standing up from her seat and gesturing toward the entrance that stood behind the desk. Jordan walked around and followed her as she opened the sliding door, allowing the full extent of the cheers and shouting to pierce his ears.
He was led outside into what appeared to be a formerly massive backyard that had been repurposed to house several towering steel cages. The metal bars rose from a wooden rim that was clearly built from the strong local timber that the gang had been extorting. Jordan counted 6 in total, and the dozens of onlookers looked as if they were more feral for blood than the fighters did. The rows of bleachers that they sat on surrounded each cage, and Jordan felt a shiver run down his spine as he was reminded of animals in a zoo.
The woman guiding him led him past the first 2 cages, and Jordan winced as he saw a skinny human man get his jaw cracked by a hulking half orc's club. The next cage was not as viscerally disturbing to look at considering there were no active combatants, but the fact that it seemed to require the work of 4 goblins to clean all the blood that had stained the arena was not creating a very welcoming ambiance. They stopped at the 3rd cage, and this was the first that did not have a crowd actively cheering. Rather it seemed that they were just filing into their seats, and the Dragonborn woman looked down on Jordan as she pointed to a small gate that was built into the cage's wall.
"That will be where you enter. Wait for Forest to announce you, then once you come into the ring, the only rule is to stay awake for longer than the other guy. Good luck sweetie," she said as she briefly spoke with the guard standing next to the gate she had pointed to. The half giant man gave her an affirmative nod, and she waved goodbye as he turned his attention to Jordan. His eyebrows briefly raised in confusion once he noticed the small stature of the half elf, but he quickly corrected his expression when he realized that had had been letting the silence hang in the air for too long.
"Forest is about to announce the start of the next round, go ahead and get in the cage…please," he said awkwardly as he pulled the gate open with a metallic groan.
Jordan stepped through the entrance and stood on a metal platform that was raised roughly 3 feet off of the floor. Standing at the other side of the cage was a halfling man holding 2 swords, and Jordan winced as he saw a waterfall of drool cascading down from his opponent's open mouth. He could hear an uptick in the chatter from the audience once he entered the ring, and Jordan could feel the eyes of the onlookers on him as he continued to await this Forest character to announce them. Suddenly, a loud ding rang out from a source that Jordan could not see, and an amplified voice began to speak.
"Round 3 will commence now. Bets are locked, and the fighters may leave their platforms. Have fun everyone," the voice said, it's sarcastic and strangely squeaky tone instantly grating on Jordan's ears.
Without a word, the halfling leapt from his platform, landing only a few feet in front of Jordan with his blades already drawn. A lock of greasy brown hair fell in front of his face, and the rotted teeth in his jagged smile matched with the pitch black swords that he held in each hand. He looked down at them before even looking at Jordan, and the loving gaze he gave to the blades caused Jordan to raise his eyebrows in concern.
"122 days, they both were telling me just the other morning how long it's been since they've tasted a half elf," he said as he viciously sliced his blades through the air. "They said they've been craving lean-" he began to say before Jordan's left hammer cracked into his jaw.
The halfling lost consciousness upon impact, his small body rocketing into the cage wall. The crowd of onlooker gasped as Ontavius crumbled to the cage floor, and Jordan casually strolled over to him, stopping right next to his twitching body. He bent down to the battered yet clearly living halfling, and gave a thumbs up to the crowd with one hand as he flicked the blood off of his hammer with the other, the faint orange glow of his Iruyori gradually fading from his arm.
"He's going to be ok everyone. If someone could just make sure he gets some ice and plenty of bed rest, he'll be up and walking again within a few days," Jordan said to the crowd as the halfling immediately started vomiting. "…Ok, maybe a week. Can someone get a mop or at least like a damp cloth?" Jordan asked, grimacing as the halfling continued to hurl.