The roar of the crowd faded to a dull noise as Raven was led past a set of double doors, and double guards, and along a hall that sloped upward. The room she found herself in at the end was richly appointed with crimson cloth covering the otherwise bare concrete of the shelter space, whose purpose was hidden by the decorations.
A large, stone table at the middle of the room showed an illusory rendition of the newly started fight from all angles, a trio of mousekin fighting an orc druid, the latter's body wrapped in layers of hardened, fungus-like chitin.
The spectators in this room were far better dressed than those outside it, and Raven immediately felt out of place in her borrowed clothes. These patrons, she recognized several prominent merchants and industrialists, barely spared her a glance as they quietly spoke amongst each other with one eye on the fight, occasionally touching the table with small pulses of mana that tabulated their wagers.
