Welcome to Gaia! ::

He sat among the men at the special tables up front, signing away papers and talking to anyone who wanted to converse with him. He smiled and waved to people in the crowd, staring into the camera when the flashing lens moved his way while scoping out the competition. He anxiously awaited the bracket announcement; all business, he was just ready to get the show on the road.

"Welcome, everyone."

Suddenly, Barsait's cheery disposition faded. Turning about face on a dime and ignoring his otherwise raging appetite, there was an address given to the men and women who would be in heated combat before things were said and done. Similar words had been spoken in media, in announcements; a fighter who had three years of experience in this very competition before now wasn't alien to any of it.

Still. As the applause flew upwards into the air of merriment, something within the [Manipulation Artist] began to stir. Those tables were for show, to demonstrate the assets of these hallowed halls in terms of strength. Boasting. However, amongst those tables were people he would treat as any other now, yet a day from now.. crush.

The difference this year was that Sonners himself was no exception. Too public a figure, too high a figure; defeating him would make Barsait's rise easily bolstered. Of yet, it was nothing personal, but such a simple shift into strength could not be ignored. Though the festivities were wondrous, this year the dulling rage that once diluted the prideful [Omi Barsait] had faded.

Accepting a wine glass from a nearby patron stepping past in his left hand, the man's right gently pressed against the table edge behind him. His head cocked to the right just slightly, eyes narrowed in steadfast concentration. His mind spoke volumes.

"And if it damns me, then so be it. But this is the eve of a new era I will build with my own two hands, on yours ashes. I can no longer let my dream go idle, nor can I treat this as a mere game to merrily advance through. Sonners, and all ye'wit' the spirit to fight."

A sudden and gulp of rich red wine from the smooth glass, his very first sip of alcohol in the man's life.



"Give me the obstacles I need to become king. Resist my future and be overcame, all."

Telamichious was, as usual, unfashionably late to the party. After recognizing his own speed (clocking in at approximately that of a turtle) and the other contestants rushing by him, probably considering him some sort of nifty, vandalized statue... Well, he'd basically threatened to break one of the bellboy's faces if they didn't wheel him around on one of those cool cart thingies. He stood, feet wrapped in those orange rubber flip-flops, earthen toes fully prepared to conjure up a rock fist to punch an uncouth youth or two in the balls. His eyes, milky cataracts, stared listlessly out into the ballroom. Oh, how he wanted to dance...

But there he was, stuck in loose footwear and tourist clothes that felt like they constricted the airflow to his unmentionables. A purple wig he'd purchased at some Final Fantasy memorabilia store sat untouched atop his head, violet locks cascading well down to the middle of his back. His mouth was spread wide in the closest he could come to a grin. He'd watched one of the educational videos that Naughty Gaiaaaah (his largest benefactor and sponsor for the Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai) had sent him, and the man's expression had been something like that.

The bellboy behind him seemed deeply disturbed. He'd never seen a talking statue-man before, much less a white-eyed purple-haired tourist talking statue-man. His name was Spencer, and the crotch region of his khakis showed what kind of mental state he was in. Besides the massive stain on those, he was fairly sure he'd soiled his Captain Barton Town boxers at least twice: once when Telamichious had literally threatened to smash his face, rip out most of his soft fleshy parts, and a second time when he'd caught a glimpse of the statue figure's face after he had boarded the ramp.

"Sir, would you like me to take you over to the--"

"Silence, heathen. I am in character," Telamichious snapped, making gestures with an imaginary ten foot katana that didn't exist. Spencer resisted the urge to whimper and flee to a corner even though he was painfully aware of everyone's stares. Sweat rolled down his forehead to the extent that a veritable saltwater ocean had begun to pool wherever he stepped, and he was almost sure he'd lose his job when the manager found out he'd shirked his duties to help... this guy. That was, of course, if Telamichious hadn't already threatened *him* too.

"I, Messiah of Gaia, desire a few greasy chicken tenders," Telamichious commanded. Spencer gulped and wheeled the heavy-as-hell automaton over to the ballroom table, where his new master proceeded to pig out on some of the saltiest, juiciest pieces of poultry he could get his cold, clammy hands on. The purple wig seemed to slip slightly, going lopsided on the left side of Telamichious' completely hairless scalp. He paid it no heed, more preoccupied with gorging himself on high cholesterol treats than with the state of his princely attire.

Spencer could have sworn he saw some of the grease from Telamichious' strange meal fly up and stain his violet locks. He didn't dare interrupt the creature's eating cycle, though... he was already half worried as it was that HE was next on the menu.

"..." The boy answered Saphen's musings with a silent smile and a slow shake of his head. He was right, after all. Anson needed to remember that this tournament had already begun, and the first round was being held in the very ballroom where they now stood.

These people, one by one, would all be opponents in the upcoming matches and unlike the Heaven or Hell tournament there were no teams here. Even those who could be called friends or allies were only a temporary thing; able to become enemies at a moment's notice if the brackets decided so. This was not a time for him to be showing weakness or timidness in front of the people who they would be fighting against. The bard's poetic pep-talk had certainly hit the nail on the head.

"Of course, Sir Saphen. As always you know just what to say to turn a frown upside-down." Though even as he said it the boy's nervous expression had not turned to one of elation but had instead settled securely into stern anticipation. Anson's blue eyes glanced from one end of the ballroom to the other once again but this time they did not dart back and forth glancing but not daring to settle his gaze upon any one of them; rather he looked with conviction upon a few among this crowd that he had to consider as opponents now.

"I thank you for that," added the paladin, clapping his hand onto the bard's shoulder even while looking away, peering straight through the crowd at swells of dark energy he could sense following around several of the members in attendance. "The most important thing now is to learn what we can of our opponents and to wipe away any doubt from within ourselves. We should not fear their strength, they should fear ours."

Anson recognized a few people in the room, but not many. Some of them had been in attendance at the Heaven or Hell tournament in the past year but there were many faces that he had never seen. The vampire KB was a one he recognized that had been hanging around the priestess Seyumi Kaikou too often to be healthy for either of them, and then there was the one called Omi Barsait that was treating himself like a king on the other side of the ballroom. Both he and Anson had lost to Vahn Fah in the last tournament, and something about that made the youth curious as to which of them was stronger. There were many others as well, and he had not seen them all. No doubt there were others he knew mingling in this crowd and likely many more that his former teammate Saphen was informed about.

"What do you know about the competition?" he asked the others with him, as he searched through the crowd for other masses of dark energy. "A fool goes to war without knowing his enemy... and I do not want to be a fool today. My own experience is limited so I don't know what type of powers many of these competitors have, I would rather not find out too late."


Robyn's flicking ears caught the boy's eye and drew his attention back to those he was standing beside; at least enough that he managed to catch a whiff of the awkward tension in the air and--

"Oh. Poplars. I'm sorry, I just-" he slipped his hand off of Saphen's shoulder and took a half step back from the two of them, "did the two of you want to be alone? Yeah. Okay. I'm sure you don't need a third wheel ruining the mood and all."

--completely misinterpreted the situation.

The beats bounced, the sounds vibrated, and all sorts of different people danced their hearts away to the beat of this legendary techno rhythm. Tuxed up with a headband signifying where he'd come from, Yasuo Katsuhiro had no hesitation in joining in the frenzy of euphoric sound waves. And what better way to do so than to kick it with the entertainment?

After having walked into the shining ballroom, on cue with the music no less, his eyes were set on the tanned woman taking the scene away from the other party goers. Well, when in Rome as some say...

The shinobi didn't bother to make a fancy entrance, and instead used this momentum to make an introduction like he'd never made before.

He hopped up in the shadow behind the fae, and began to mirror her every movement to the song. He took a moment to study of course, seeing as how one doesn't normally catch on to a kind of choreographed dance such as this one instantly - unless your from some fancy pants West High School place or something of course.

Once he had it down, he made his move - within two inches of the Fae's back. Now that was a hell of a sight. Two random competitors doing a dance together as if they had planned it or something. Psh... likely...

So it had seemed the owner of this tournament made and announcement and everyone went all crazy over him. Seth, however, didn't. He did listen since he was part of the tournament, but he stayed tucked away at his back of the room table. His plate was cleared, and the drink in his hand was close to follow. He was ready to get this thing underway. He doesn't much for the big fancy dinners and stuff.

Elaborate? No... The woman was far too modest to hold herself to such lights. She was, after all, only wearing a simple dress compared to many of those about. Long, crimson, with just a hint of lace where she'd show off a curve or two, leaving only a slight cling to keep a bit of imagination going. Elegant? Well... perhaps just a little touch of grace slid down those gentle limbs as she swayed through the door, her flowing motion slipping through the amassed crowd with a sense of posture and poise not often found amongst the party-going crowd. Eye-catching? Not so much.

Jurie Arks was still just a small-time name in fighting circles, even after her debut last year in GTB. She played as an underdog through most of her matches, mostly unknown up towards the end where she pulled a rather quaint disappearing act. That alone gave her a taste of notoriety, if only slight compared to many of the faces strewn about. All in all she didn't expect to turn an eye or raise a ruckus, though she did feel a ping of worry whirling down that slender body of hers. A slight sense of doubt catching in those sandy-gold eyes as they shifted about nervously, almost out of place.

She'd come alone, back to a tournament which she knew little about with an air of mystery after her disappearance. The thought of being questioned about that alone almost made her wish not to come. All the same... it was silly to let such things chide one away from the social circles. She'd smile lightly to the strange crowd before her, nervous and sweet, as she made her way throughout the weaves of the pillars and tables, people and creatures that the room had to provide.

With his drink now finally done, Seth looked around to see if any waiters were going to come by and grab his empty plate and cup. However, being set back a little from the main groups, it didn't look that would be happening. Grabbing the plate and cup, he started for the food table. If anything he decided while making his way over there, that he would at least get some more food. Maybe not any more wine or anything like that, but maybe some soda.

As Seth was passing through the crowds he was looking at the faces of the different people that were there. One face kind of caught his eye as he walked through. Stopping, he kind of had to take a second look before moving on again. He was right. It was the lady that he lost to in the third round. He kept moving toward the food table. He didn't know if he really wanted to talk to her. He didn't hate her for beating him but he wanted to face her again to see if he could win. Another reason to avoid her was because he didn't remember her name. He wasn't sure if she would notice her, but hopefully it wasn't when he was looking at her.