The gore, the cruelty, the profit.

[Satellites]

Pilfius Danterro enjoyed the smell of the money; be it paper or shilling, no matter what nationality or origin. It made no difference to him how he got it; by it being handed to him, or by him having the hand it rightfully belonged to chopped off. There were many ways that Pilfius had to ensure that he always smelled money, but there was one certain way that he enjoyed more than anything: pit-fighting.

While it was outlawed in many places, it was a nice underground endeavor, and he never let his own hands get in the mess. There was a dozen other people to take the fall for him if things started to look like they were in bad shape. A person didn't become so rich by doing something so dirty by being too terribly stupid.

While his latest hiding place had been in Thessilane, he had heard of the constant rainfalls in Myrken for the past few weeks, and decided to take advantage of the area. In such a mess the Order of Straka, who after some investigation, he had found was the 'enforcers' of Myrken's law. It wouldn't be easy to get around them, but with their hands tied with flooding and other recent events, he could slip in rather unnoticed.

It had been a week since he had sent in his first group of people to scout the other, and they had found an abandoned farmhouse near the outskirts of the town. It would be perfect for their set-up, and within a few days time, Pilfius Danterro will arrive to Myrken and starting setting up shop. Even now, those same people are looking to possible candidates for fighters. The promise of riches kept many, many interested.