faderift | THE FIRST RULE ABOUT FIGHT CLUB IS THAT THIS ISN'T FIGHT CLUB

WHO:Eshal and EVERYBODY, you're all invited. You don't have to have expressed interest oocly or icly before now to participate!
WHAT: The first inaugural Riftwatch underground boxing tournament... thing.
WHEN: Feel free to hit this up whenever, presumably it's taking place at various times over the month.
WHERE: The back room of the Boar & Bat pub.
NOTES: Violence! Gambling! Anything worse than that, I'll let you know.

The back room of the pub is no special beauty, but it's workable. A dirt floor, a bar with drinks and a bartender, and a circle drawn in the middle with chalk. Eshal is on the side, acting as referee for matches, and moving through the crowd in between bouts. She's convivial, crassly cheerful, and, at 6'2", impossible to miss.

But perhaps most notable is the sign stolen from the front, and pinned to the wall, in clear view of the crowd. Beneath it, someone has scrawled into the wall: LEAVE SOBER.

(credit to Beka for the wonderful sign!)

THE MATCHES

It's time to fight! The rules are simple, as outlined by Eshal and her booming voice at the beginning of every match:

No kicking. No punching below the belt. No hitting while they're down. Stop when the referee says so. First person who can't get back up after a five count loses.

She also introduces each participant to the crowd. She gives their name (or whatever name they gave her, if you want to go under a pseudonym), and a fact about them, perhaps ...a little made up. Nothing terrible, but always something to spice up the match. Are you fighting an elf? She may imply you have something against elves. Are you rich? She may imply your opponent has a grudge against Hightown. Little things.

(Feel free to godmod what she says as needed for comedy or plotting, but keep in mind it wouldn't be outright derogatory or obviously insulting. Just some slight implication to spice things up.)

THE BETTING

Are you a bookie? Are you making bets? Time to make some money.

Feel free to handwave who's fighting or who's the crowd favorite, what the odds are, etc. Don't get too bogged down in the details. Just remember: People love betting, and bookies get a cut. It pays to know the odds.

For those betting? Sometimes you win big. Sometimes you lose. Try and be polite about it.

THE SPECTATING

It's time to just sit back and watch the fight. Boo or cheer. Who's your favorite? Your least favorite?

Or maybe you're here for another reason. Gossip, making connections, pick-pocketing... Plenty of people here, plenty of connections to make... or you could just get drunk.

IN GENERAL

Hey, just have fun. In the future, there might be signups or more complex structures for the fights, but for now, let's just be chill and punch each other senseless.

Top level and comment around, fight whoever you want or handwave; there are presumably NPCs fighting and betting, make them up as needed for your threads. Please note if you're okay with threadjacking and etc.

Let me know if you need Eshal to step in as a referee (PM, whatever)! And note: She will not be fighting, just making herself very visible as the ref.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A BRAWL

Derrica squares up in the ring, bouncing on her toes. As she'd waited her turn, the alternate shouts and applause from the crowd had made her nervous, but she doesn't feel it now. She's vibrating with anticipation anyway, waiting for Eshal to say the word.

Sure, she's supposed to be fighting the person across from her in the ring, but Derrica still flashes a bright smile at them. We're all here to have a good time, right?

POST-FIGHT

There's blood on her face. She can taste it in her mouth, even after she's collected a glass of sweet-strong alcohol. Maybe she could find a healer, but it doesn't feel especially urgent. Her braid's are coming loose, and she can feel aches and bruises each time she moves, but it doesn't dampen the glow of satisfaction left in the wake of the fight.

She's lifted a bottle from the bar, perched on a stool presumably to watch the proceedings. She alternates between sipping and holding the cool glass against her swelling mouth. Still, she grins at anyone approaching.

WILDCARD

[ derrica's going to fight a few times, and be generally hanging around otherwise!! do whatever, i'll roll with it. ]

"I don't know many mages who are good with their fists," Nell says from the stool behind Derrica. She'd been turned the other way at first, in conversation with a couple of men who've just moved back off into the crowd, and twists back now to face the ring and its recent occupant. She's not whispering, but her voice does drop a little on 'mages' to keep it from carrying.

She's got one hand looped through the handle of a tankard of beer, and gestures with it in the general direction of Eshal, head sticking up above the crowd across the room. "Did you tell her when you signed up?" A beat and then she adds with a smile, "I'm not looking to rat you out, just wondering if I need to lie or not myself."

The compliment gets a small oh of acknowledgement, quiet pleasure flashing across Derrica's face as she registers Nell's attention.

"I don't think you need to lie," Derrica says, muffled at first, clearer when she takes the mug from her face. "Just make sure you only plan on using your fists."

Eshal hadn't seemed concerned about anything other than the spectacle and potential for profit. And she didn't seem to be the type of person who thought mages were volatile, dangerous and incapable of keeping their abilities in check. Derrica shakes her head a little.

"She won't turn you away. But she might make you come up with a funny name, or a dramatic story about yourself."

Derrica had failed a bit at both, but she hadn't exactly come here looking for notoriety.

THE FIRST RULE ABOUT FIGHT CLUB IS THAT THIS ISN'T FIGHT CLUB

derrica | ota.

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