Damn, hitting things is my go to... ah well. Silent will wait for the organizer to finish his conversation before approaching him. You got room for two more in the pit tonight? 

The organiser is a burly man in his late forties.  He looks you up and down as you approach.

Yes.  You got a name, lad?

I go by Silent, and this is Magnum. Silent jerks his head towards the combatants. Looks like weapons are fair game here, eh? 

Bors, says the man.  Yeah.  Crowd chooses the weapon.  What can you fight with?  He makes a note of your names in a tattered book he pulls out of, then stuffs back into, his pocket.

My fists.

Big sword. Silent pulls back his hood and cloak slightly to reveal the hilt poking up above his shoulder. 

Bors raises his eyebrow as Magnum speaks.  Fists and swords are good, but like I said, crowd's choice.  So, here's how it works.  I pick the opponent, crowd picks the weapon.  Plenty of blood, but no killing or maiming.  Winner gets five silver, plus a share of the betting.  If you win, and the crowd likes watching you, you'll get more in your next fight.  Loser gets eight coppers for a couple of mugs of ale over there, he points at the 'bar'.  You in?

Well shit, sounds like everyone goes away a winner. Yeah, I'm in. 

Yes.

I wonder what sort of people we might be up against. I mean, I hope we don't end up fighting each other. Me, now I'd like to fight someone formidable. I haven't had a chance to really see what my upgrades can do. 

Fight each other... damn, I really didn't think that through. Huh. Well I'll probably put up a better fight than most of these folks, eh? Silent elbows Magnum jokingly. 

In all seriousness, yes. You would be the most formidable from what I've seen here. Particularly if you were to cut loose with that magic sword and those shadow Clone attacks. Or whatever you call them. I'm nut familiar with that magic. 

Oh ho ho - this sword's special to me, but it ain't magic as far as I can tell.

I reckon I should really sit down and pick your brains about the Echoes at some point. You're a spellslinger and you got less cobwebs upstairs, you'll probably figure something new out. All I know for sure is that type of magic ain't something anybody around here should see. It's just askin' for trouble.  

Hmmm...I was sure it was magic. I'm not an expert or anything but still. Could I examine it thoroughly later? 

Alright, lads, Bors says as the current fight comes to an end, the half-elf picks the halfling up and slams him to the floor, knocking him out cold.  There's a cheer that drowns out Bors' next words, so he repeats once things have calmed down.  Drop your stuff at the bar;  Jomt will take care of it.  You can watch the next fight, and you'll be up after that.  Yeah, you're fighting each other - some of the customers like to bet on complete unknowns, show off how good they are at sizing new folks up.  Word of warning - don't kill each other, but don't hold back too much either.  Crowd can turn nasty if they think you're pulling your punches too much and wasting their time.  You'll want to get on their good side.  Like I said, watch the next fight for some tips.

You take your seats and watch the next fight, a dwarf woman against a human woman.  You notice a few bits of trash talk during the early stages of the fight, but not too much, and they get down to serious trading of blows pretty quick.  They're both armed with scimitar, and lightly armoured, so the fight doesn't take too long.  You have a chance to talk, or do something else, before your fight starts, but you have only a minute or two.

As expected.  If they expect me to fight with a sword, I'll be at a significant disadvantage, but do not worry about that.  I can take a great deal of punishment.

Let's put on a good show, yeah? Get some insults flying, land some cheap hits. I'll lean into your strikes, you lean into mine, we go home with heavier pockets. 

Magnum nods.

The dwarf emerges victorious, her final flourish to shove her opponent back and clonk her with the scimitar's pommel; she's dazed, falls to her knees, and the fight is over.  The dwarf helps her up, and they both head straight to the bar and Bors grins; they seem popular and probably as though they are a regular fixture of this club.

Bors stands up.  Two new bloods now.  Stand up, lads.  He's no great stadium announcer, nor is he trying to be - this is all very gruff, matter of fact.  The big half-orc's Silent, the constructs talks - calls itself Magnum.  There's a pause and a few seconds while the customers look you over and then burst into conversations across the room.  That's right, drink it in,.  So.  What's it to be? 

There are three shouts:  Maces.  Glaives.   Fists.   Bors repeats each in turn, and the cries of approval are loudest for maces. Maces it is.

Now, place your bets.  Several of the customers rush over to Bors and are clearly laying down some good money; the organiser looks very happy as he brings the bids to a close and points you to a rack of weapons near the bar.  Take your weapons, and start hitting, boys.

You have your armour, but no shield.  You each have a standard Mace.  You've heard no rule against magic, but no idea what the response would be if you tried it.  The crowd is interested, and has not chosen a favourite yet. 

Roll initiative.