Welcome to Gaia! ::

Numerous open archways at ground level lay all about the gigantic circular establishment, landing spectators and participants alike on the sheltered cobblestone track that runs all the way around the building. Stands for refreshments, fighting gear, shirts and posters, and other Gaian Tenkaichi Budoukai paraphernalia are stationed all about the track. If one does not wish to partake in the festivities, one can go straight to the heart of the colosseum by first following the first archway through which one chose to enter and then stepping on through to the next, which leads to the stadium: stands that span all sides, inclining sharply downward toward the sandy arena where they end at one hundred feet above the floor. Ramps and stairs provide access to higher and lower levels.

A black shape appeared on the arena floor. The black cloaked figure glanced over the arena without so much as a blink. His facial expression was completely neutral with the exception of his icy blue optics.

A hand protruded from the cloak and held itself directly out in front of the cloaked form palm down. Spyke remained like that for several minutes before the hand and arm retracted back into the darkness provided by the cloak.

At this time Spyke formally acknowledged the presence of others. Formally meaning he glanced up at spectators and then glanced at the entity that was walking along the arena wall. He wondered what tricks that one had. He gauged the entities strength based on severely limited information. Choosing to err on the side of overly powerful.

Spyke turned and jumped up into the stands so he could survey the entirety of the arena from above. He was looking forward to his turn perhaps this tournament would show him something intriguing and new to learn later.

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

The noise would be cycled within the hollow innards of the Colosseum's many halls leading towards the Arena. Standing at ten feet, he would easily clear the final arch and enter the arena perimeter with meager amusement painted across the dragonic scales across his face. Now a cinder block in hand, a testament to his strange tastes in food as he brought it to his mouth and pressed it in with ease, the plethora of variety within his jaws would be put to work to break down the hardened material.

His walking yet to hinder as he maneuvered his mass on top of the arena, his right hand, which was massive in size compared to his left, would be mid-air and waving. Yet his mouth was currently pulsating with crunches, pops, and clacks.

Murdoch wore nothing more then a simple piece of purple garment, in respect to the humanity of the crowd, even if he lacked reproductive organs. His rippling purplish blue symbiotic display of dragon scales littering his humanoid frame. Bulky and powerful, the waving massive hand would curl into a fist and be brought down at a ninety degree angle, pressing swiftly against his seemingly muscular chest in a symbol of respect for the roaring crowd.

Swallow. There went the cinder block, in to the beast's mighty acidic pit.

The rugged veteran hunter that followed Deitric, third in place, wasn't aware that this while thing wasn't mandatory, or else he would've still been comfortably sleeping in the bed of his room dining on fried bacon, eggs, and enough baked beans and biscuits to feed an army platoon.

Old western-style meal. The thought of the savory food and service they had crossed his mind and he cracked a bigger grin then the one that was already plastered.

It seemed like there were only two real sizeable threats so far. The native american and the giant dragonic being directly infront of him. At only 5'10-11 but built like a bull, Akechi was still confident that he could take them down. Now to size up the rest.

He pretty much ignore everything else, the cheering of the crowd, the sun (except for slipping on a pair of shades), and the commentary, only glancing around at his competitors and guaging their level of danger to him.

Reyin had practically been herded into the arena by a set of tournament officials who had caught him wandering around the hotel lobby, so his entrance was hardly one designed to woo the crowd. He was shoved somewhere in the middle of the order, and he looked just a little bit lost as he made his way across the arena floor. The bright lights, the large crowd, it was a little more than intimidating for a young man who's most spectated activity was running around town acting like a total goofball. Now his every move was going to be watched and analyzed. Not to mention the ever-present threat of having his face smashed in.

About halfway across the arena, Reyin managed to snag his confidence back and picked up a little hop in his step. He swung his arms in wide arcs to clap his hands together overhead as he saught to gain the crowd's favor, turning to each section once while shouting the words "COME ON!" as loud as he possibly could. Thanks to the roar of the crowd, however, his words fell short of the audience or even the other competitors.

Eventually he hopped up to the platform and took his place next to the other competitors. Once stilled, Reyin started looking fairly uncomfortable given his incredibly close proximity to the giant purlple guy who had just eaten a cinder block.

Reyin was hardly an intimdating figure to even a normal Gaian. He looked fit, but no more so than a typical Gaian athlete, and the sword slung over his back didn't look to be all that special either. He wore no armor, just a simple t-shirt and pair of athletic shorts, coincidentally the same gear he had been working out in before he had been rounded up to appear at the arena.

In short, the blonde-haired, green eyed swordsman smelled like a dirty gym sock.

Rei came running into the area, heart pounding and his face red. He was late for the ceremony and he really wanted to know who his first opponent would be. He saw of few of what looked to be other fighters standing off to the side of the stage, so he ran to join them. He came to a halt beside a man with blonde hair covering one eye, and a cigarette in his mouth. He couldn't tell if this man was seriously joining the tournament, but he wouldn't underestimate him.

"How far in is it?" He whispered to the man.

Rei let out a sigh of relief. He relaxed himself, letting his shoulders drop and he smiled. He turned to face the man next to him.

"Thank goodness. I thought I was late." He extended his right hand.

"My name is Rei Claybourne. Nice to meet you."

Hands in his pockets, Mooo made his way through the archways, giving polite nods to various members of the press, actually answering questions here and there so they could have something to write for his inch-and-a-half section of the projections page. He wasn't being hyped to win, or even get very far, but last year's match with Omi Barsait had given the two of them a minor following.

Coming into the introduction hallway, Mooo saw Omi--who was at the moment too busy in thought--and smiled broadly, more sauntering than walking as he reached forward, clapping a hand onto Omi's shoulder. Hopefully his former opponent wouldn't see this as an aggressive action and not punch Mooo in the throat simply for wanting to say hello.