Welcome to Gaia! ::

Suddenly, silence!

"Ladies and gentleman," a stout man, dressed in all the finery the situation demanded, announced from the entrance of the ballroom. Stella's techno-music, but a moment ago making the walls throb with a deep bass, had been silenced in lieu of this stranger's entrance. Though small, the man had a deep voice that reverberated off the walls rich and precise and grabbing the attention of those who wished to give and demanding it of those who tried to escape it. And on cue, for he was most certainly being paid enough to do so, the once miffed maestro of the orchestra returned to his podium and signaled order from the members of his congregation. Once restored, the signal was given, and both rich drums and a gong were rung in precise unison, accentuating the words of this short and strange individual. "It is with great honor," the man continued as he stepped forth and to the side, out of the way, just as the gong and drums banged once again in sharp unison followed suite by two more raps on the drums. "That I present to you today, his Grace, the Dread Margrave of the DeSeer mother and all of her provinces, The Darkened Devil, Roen Jaeger,"

At the announcement, the Devil; Destroyer of Cities; Philanthropist; S-Class Criminal; Wanted Felon; and foul-tempered individual walked into the ballroom with all the authority of Divinity itself, dapper cane in one hand and the arm of a woman, Ever's arm, in the other. The tip of his cane never touched the ground in his strut, and his sanguine eyes; those piercing, garnet orbs, they took only one hard look around before the ghost of a melancholic smile graced his lips. Reporters flocked to him on his entrance, and to say he enjoyed it would have been the grossest of understatements. Yet even as the gongs and drums rung with pride and trumpets and brass lifted in tandem to greet him with a glorious fanfare, the stout man who flanked him was not done with his announcement, and rose his voice over the roar to carry on. And what a voice it was! Tapping his own walking stick the marble floor that silenced both reporters and the fanfare, the stout man looked upon the crowd and smiled knowingly, summoning his powerful and amplified voice for will to bare.

Shh, who's that on his arm? I've never seen her before.

I don't know; but she's gorgeous!

Isn't that the Devil who destroyed Puerto Diablo?

Above the hushed whispers of the crowd his voice boomed, "and it is in ever greater pleasure that I announce the Royal Consort, our Lady, the beautiful Ever Linde!" The dominant trumpet and deep brass fanfare, though powerfully oppressive in its previous jubilation, returned with an even louder presence, percussion instruments thrown into the affair. The maestro, previously bought and paid for, had been given strict instructions to give the consort the most impressive fanfare out of the two given her lack of titles. The Darkened Devil, though greedy for the spotlight, didn't want Ever to feel like the third wheel in tonight's frivolities. They were equals, and he would treat them as such. With the stout man bowing out of the picture and heading out of the ballroom to return to the limo, he left both Devil and Human to their devices, which included Roen stepping forth with Ever still in hand and regarding the gathered reporters and competitors (if any) to greet them. Holding up his walking stick and dipping his head with a measure of respect, Roen would wait until the fanfare retreated before demanding silence with a negligent wave of his hand.

"Greetings," he would say with his resonate baritone, honed by years as a practiced orator with a rich timbre that carried through the crowd. "Please, excuse me." Yes, leave the wolves watering at the mouths, hungry for more. Flashing a deceptively charming smile and turning his head to Ever, the Devil would give her a rougeish wink before taking her away from the reporters that gathered, leaving the aroma of fine cologne and a swaying tail behind him as the techno music returned, no doubt soothing the ire of a temperamental fae who undoubtedly disliked his and Ever's grand entrance. Now, where was his daughter? He had words for that child. "I hope this isn't overwhelming you," Roen would whisper to his date as his eyes searched the crowds for that particular face. "Just stay close to me, hm? I don't want some other man sweeping you off your feet before I do."

To partake in conflict or to ignore conflict, the eternal struggle relived. As easy to stir it up further as to quell it, this [Omi Barsait] knew too well. Still, needless struggles led nowhere, so his watchful eyes would keep the brewing storm in check no matter how absurd its antics were. Yes, this was certainly the approach needed..

..yet, curiosity began infesting the man's very mind. "Where is that woman supposed to be, I wonder..?"

Not a long while ago at all, it was Barsait who was lead on quite a chaotic chase, deciphering riddles of bizarre nicknames. It all ended in the absolute truth: he would be escorting who appeared to be a daughter of a prestigious family to this ball. His motivations fluttered in the air, between ambitions of power and fame, obligation to a pact, and perhaps a deep interest he would keep suppressed otherwise.

But with his hunger sated, and the loud screams and chatter of the public wearing on his nerves, where was she to be found? Perhaps it was time to look into the matter himself - perhaps, something ill befell her? A feeling of guilt began to manifest, for if this was so-

"..Mr. Barsait?"

"Ah?" All thoughts sent asunder like a fine mist, even the dramatic arrival of [Roen Jaeger] completely missed the man's attention. Did someone call for him? Such a bother this would be if he merely misheard, but he was almost certain a voice stated his name in a formal fashion. Instead, raising his left hand loftily nearby the food court, the [Artist] began to speak with a booming voice unlike his norm:

"Oi!" A voice that would penetrate the environment with ease. "Did someone say Barsait? Here, here if you need me." Repeated signaling of his position.

Left, right, a gentle sway in the air which would no doubt attract some serious attention in the wake of the dramatic "Devil's" introduction. Of course, this would spawn quite a crowd murmur in itself, given Omi had only gotten off the hook on being swarmed until now by his radically different attire and hair style. Something about participating in as many of these deals as he had, even underground to-the-death variants, and showing up whenever chaos brewed strong had his name some fame already. That, or perhaps it was the glowing crimson serpents, those tend to attract attention.

All the same, several individuals flooded over at once, crowding his sight and path but most of all his proximity. A hesitant grin spread across the fighter's face, eyelids widening.

"Ah.. would you all pardon me, I believe someone called for my attention-nnn-"

Immediately cut off by a chorus of speech. Bets, offers for body guard positions, one older man seemed to have asked if he could perform an [assassination] although it was difficult to make out with another chortling that Omi made him quite a decent amount of money the year prior.

Normally, rage would manifest at a spectacle like this, if utter dismayed shock didn't completely wipe Omi's very mind blank.

Noise.
Lights.
Other people in general.
Randall kicked the central doors open, gathering gazes from a fair amount, many with scowls and quips of their chins, a rise in their noses to the shabbily dressed Irish man. Randall gave them a glare back, and most immediately turned or wandered from their conversations..
In haste, one would assume.
All the suits and ties were a vast contrast to Randall's own bleach white polo and blue jeans, the smell of something alcoholic so prevailing from the man that one could jest his breath could be set aflame. Randall dared these odds, lighting up a Marlboro Red, edging himself toward the center of the bustling crowds, pushing people over, toppling dancers and tables as if all that stood before him mattered not.
"Yeah yeah louts! Move it!" A rather large man, wide set shoulders and white suited, drank and casually laughed with his group. It just so happened he stood in Randall's wake, and in doing such, garnered a tap on the shoulder.
The muscular man Randall prodded with his finger turned, scoffed, then turned back.

Randall didn't approve of such a reaction, swiftly launching the man into the far wall, shattering a window, causing a helluva commotion to be frank. "Should'a moved.." Randall whipped his cigarette around, edging closer toward the bar as eyes fell onto him from all sides.

The entrance door to the Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai's grand ball had likely taken a thorough beating up to this point in the night. There were some pretty rough and rowdy folk coming and going after all, all wanting to prove something or somesuch. After such prolonged abuse, there was little doubt that the door would eventually fall of its hinges.

Whud!

There went another one, HURRing his way into the place, looking tough. The unloved door took the abuse, rattling and groaning and just about ready to write its funeral dirge.

Wearily, it swung back...

And was introduced to Ebris Dhifi.



What happened next was pretty rathin' violent, to say the least. The door didn't even have the dignity of remaining whole in its death throes - no, it essentially just exploded under the inanely-sized metal boot that the bounty hunter was decked out in. Of course, flying wooden chunks were never a healthy thing, so for the Dashing Gentleman who had just made his entrance, he'd likely have to go visit his family doctor about a certain splinter problem.

Ebris, though - Ebris ignored results of that miserable little outcome and instead took three great big, chinging (because he's got some cool spurs on his boots) steps into the ballroom, seemingly oblivious to the havoc he had wrought. Beady lil' blue eyes surveyed the expanse, a kind of very dangerous hunger held within them. Something nasty sounded,like a bunch of boulders doing the nasty on one another - given his right going up in a fist before his bearded mug, it was probably a cough.



The voice, much like the door rocketing off its hinges, sounded very similar to something dangerous and filled with gravel exploding. It was a pretty sure-fired way to get attention. As suddenly as he had entered, his left hand shot up, a piece of official-looking paper throttled within its grasp, and he gave it a good smack.



He waited, as though to expect an answer. The incredulous look upon his craggy features after a moment suggested that such an assumption was correct.



Another pause, to allow himself to spread both his arms out, as though to beckon just about every single fighter in the Throne-damned room to come get some.





Jimbos sent to the E.R.: 0/14

Joseph would look up from his drinking, an notice Ebris going on about breaking legs. Grabbing the full bottle of vodka, he walked up about ten paces from Ebris, opened the bottle and slurred,

“Ebris, ******** you! You ain’t taken mine or anyone’s place. You done ******** up by not being on time, and I’ma gonna do everyone a favor and show you out. While enjoying mah drink!”
Joseph took a swig of vodka before getting into a simi-lax fighting pose. This was something that would be remembered for a long time, one drunk 5’5’’ teen vs Ebris. The “Dance off” was bout to start.

The punch glanced, deflecting harmlessly to the side. The crazy guy had definitely taken harder and meaner punches than Johnny Ringo's before.

"Get yer stinkin hands-

FWUD!

Johnny's head snapped back and lolled for a moment. Jimmy Beans screamed and started to run up to his friend, whose brain didn't seem to work anymore.

"Warablaggralr~" he called out to Jimmy Beans. Jimmy ran past Ebris until he was at the man's left, then sort of monkey-jumped (these are technical terms here, people) and pawed on to the giant's arm, pounding his fist into Ebris's shoulder like a level two clefairy.

"Johnny! I'm gonna get you outta here! Just sit tight Johnny!" He cried.

"...Wabblrgle~"

So that's another two (Roen and Ebris) who did the whole PAY ATTENTION TO ME BECAUSE I AM AWESOME bullshit for their entrance. Esouna's stance on these Gaians' mentality strengthened. All they wanted was to be the very best, and 2nd was worthless.

The fairy curled up her sensory wings to expose less area, so the angry man's explosive yelling wouldn't be so grating. Then, she simply floated towards the refreshments table, keeping herself out of this man's path of beatdown. In a way, he reminded Esouna of herself--muscley and filled with rage. That certainly disconcerted the fairy...

Was she becoming too much like these Gaians? She lowered herself onto the table and sat, appearing rather unhappy. To get her mind off her cultural trouble, the fairy reached to her side and picked up a plate with cake on it. Cue munching.