Scene #8348: DF-Topaz 1: Kingdom of Fists

Owner	Pose
Cantio	PREVIOUSLY "The Skull Children are immortal!" And then the Skull Children died. NOW Those that remained with the convoy coming out of Cantio's forward-operating base have an easy enough reason to head towards Topaz, a nation normally known for just churning out the greatest martial artists on the continent: Get the nations of Legendra (the continent where things are happening) to band together against Fandaria (war-declaring empire possibly in league with an evil god) under a mutually beneficial alliance, starting with Topaz as the literal central nation and expanding towards those at the greatest risk of being attacked. If Topaz was supposed to be in danger of being besieged on all sides while smack dab in the middle of that continent-spanning war, though, it certainly doesn't look that way as you draw closer to the capital. Although guards are posted atop the walls surrounding the city, security doesn't appear to be particularly tight nor even tense here. The outer gates have been thrown wide open with all manner of wagons and travelers filtering in at a relatively steady pace, and those posted on the ground seem to be acting more like living signposts than actual guards as they answer questions and point out which directions people should be going. A bored-looking swordsman with blonde hair is seated atop the security checkpoint at the gate where your group will be coming in through, and a distracted-looking guy wrapped up in a heavy cloak seems more interested in just watching everyone coming through. They'll let your group through without a fuss once Cantio explains that you're here as envoys bringing medical supplies and food from around Multiverse, but there's still plenty of time to hang out here and ask questions while waiting for the enough people to pass so the Desperado vehicles can actually fit through the gate. Inside the capital, things seem even more active with relatively lax security. Visitors are free to mingle and buy snacks or trinkets from various stands set up through the sandy streets. The locals are easily distinguishable by how little armor they're generally wearing to the visitors and the generally cheap-look to their clothes, but they almost all uniformly fit to a relatively ludicrous degree. All that foot traffic isn't staying still, though, and most of it is headed towards or around the grand temple/castle in the center of the city. It's even easier to see the divide between the locals and outside visitors just by following the trail of people, too, and identifying who's got several inches of armor on them and who's just here wearing a gi or a basic robe with nothing else to make themselves look particularly fancy.
Shadow	PREVIOUSLY "You can't just stay inside and brood all month long, Shadow." "Wanna bet?" NOW Shadow lost that bet. Along with the convoy is a four wheeled APC, laden with whatever supplies would be most convincing. Shadow likely just took the Concord credit card and loaded it up from a wholesaler somewhere. The APC is being driven by an anthropomorphic hedgehog. He glares back at anyone who peeks in the driver side window, and doesn't say anything until they go away. Rouge, meanwhile, takes advantage of the brief delay to go do some shopping. She is so good at shopping, in fact, that she returns not only with two armfuls of trinkets, but also more money than she set out with, and one of the guards' ID's. That's how good she is at shopping.
Hiromi	Despite the dire circumstances, Hiromi still hasn't shown up, herself. Maybe she's very busy. Maybe she thinks Hisako can handle it. In any case, it's Hisako who's here, today, again arriving to assist Cantio, and whoever else is involved with saving LEGENDRA from the dark god of destruction, MADRUK. Meeting with new people in new lands is, at least, well within the purview of a wandering wolf-miko. She hops down from her position clinging to the top of an APC (it was full) and makes a four-point landing. Given that the last visit gave her the impression this area is already on a war footing, her bronze gauntlets are already on her hands, extending up her forearms. Between 'armored' and 'martial artist,' she looks closer to the latter. Looking around for someone with a sense of 'being in charge,' Hisako notices that there's a swordsman on top of the security checkpoint. On top! He must be in a supervisory position. She heads that way, and bows. "Please excuse me, but I am looking for the holy warriors. Are they in this city?"
Metamorph One	"Convoy escort, huh? Just like old times." "Haha, well, that's sort of the point, isn't it?" "I guess. Not that the old times were ever good. But--" "But where else do you start with new ones, right?" "Yeah." The Desperado transport train is headed by one additional vehicle, of decidedly non-army contractor make. The quadruped's body plan is somewhere between a spider and a tank, largely rounded angles and seamless shell; its armour seems more like high quality plastic than metal, clean white and striped with vivid orange, its markings stenciled in emerald green on its side. There's no noise to its drive train, but just the methodical plodding of footsteps and the mild whine of servomotor joints, as if it had no engine. Like a travelling beast. The canopy is functionally indistinguishable from the rest outside, but within, a panoramic view of scrolling scenery has the look and feel of a clear window. Dianna and Elara recline under a glow like sunlight rather than monitors, allowing the road to move past on autopilot. For the past ten minutes, they've been talking about 'that one time', the logistics of city walls, and playing a game where Elra throws snacks from the bag over the back of Dianna's pilot seat and she catches them in her mouth. The trip is so uneventful it's almost boring, but- "It's nice, isn't it?" "Just being in the cockpit beats the couch." "Haha, I knew you'd agree. Even though the couch is comfier." "But it's not the same thing. The controls at your fingertips make the act of relaxing take on another context. The heads up display painting over everything renders it tht way only you see it. The delineation of the world outside and our world inside is sharper than walls." "I know. You're right. It's a different planet. Like a romantic vacation. But you're still a bit of an idiot, you know?" "And here I was going to take you shopping." "Hey, no backing out now!" When they're past the gates, a communications hail reaches Cantio. "Hey, Cantio! You didn't tell us, so, if we're here to establish an alliance, then do we have an audience with someone important?" "They're not taking this war seriously."
James Bond	The expensive, blocky SUV bringing up the rear of the convoy has sustained some battle damage. Parts of the paint job look as though they were blasted away by sand, and there are places on the window and windshield where the impact-resistant glass is cracked. The driver is cool and composed, through the security checkpoint, glancing up at the blonde swordsman as he passes beneath. He's wearing desert camo fatigues and a combat vest, a compact carbine clipped to the vest. It's quite different from the clothes of soldiers here, but the way he carries himself leaves little doubt that he's among the ones meant to guard this caravan on the road. Once he's past the security checkpoint, he parks the SUV near the bus and exits the vehicle. The tailgate is opened, a duffel bag retrieved. Bond heads to the nearest inn, a modestly priced establishment, and pays for a room. He'd been told by his Paladins support to buy the upstairs corner room, so he does. The curtains on the windows are closed. Inside the room, he kneels beside the bed and fishes below the frame. A suitcase is tied to the underside, just as he'd been told. it includes a few things, which he lays out atop the bed--a change of clothes into something more local (a simple black gi) and a briefing, slipped within a manila folder. After changing and slipping his old clothes (and rifle) into the briefcase, he ties it to the underside of the bed's frame once more and then opens the breifing, flipping through pages seated at a small table. Grainy photos and black typeface tell a story: the sole survivor of a Fandarian attack, currently serving in Tristan's army, has been spotted traveling from the cold, northern state in the direction of Topaz. Scar, as he's called, is a former bandit and hardly a patriot. It's likely that he's here hoping that Scythe--the Fanarian lieutenant who killed his men--will be, too, seeking to fight in the tournament. Bond, dressed in that simple gi, is present in the courtyard of the castle before long, fluidly moving through crowds in search of the bandit-turned-soldier. He flows around incoming foot traffic and squeezes through idle conversations, cold blue eyes scanning a sea of faces for the one with the distinctive scar.
Cantio	Shadow's not alone, at least! Cantio's not actually driving the vehicle she's sitting on, but she's at least still there to keep an eye on things around here. With so many people moving around, it doesn't hurt to be careful! Plus, someone has to explain to curious passers-by that, no, Desperado's big ominous skull logo is not a sign of them being bad people. It's just part of their brand recognition! Shadow is also kept company by plenty of visitors peeking in, then quickly ducking away. Breaking awkward eye contact is a universal constant. Rouge, meanwhile, gets away with plenty of other people's stuff! Karma might come back to bite her in the ass later, but someone else's stuff! It's not even noticed right away, either, as the bored-looking guy seems rather antsy and just counting down the seconds before he can do literally anything but sit here. His ID, weirdly enough, is one that's from outside of Legendra rather than just some random local issuance. Hisako addressing him directly, then, is more than enough to get Garyus (the bored guy with the missing ID) to actually sit up instead of laze around on his side. "Eh? The holy...? Oh. Uh..." Before he starts, he leans over the checkpoint to give the distracted man sitting inside it a look. That man, in turn, looks over at Hisako, then at his left hand, then raises it a bit more to look at a pocketwatch dangling from a chain around his wrist. She might notice him smirking ever so slightly when he finally looks right back up at the swordsman without saying anything else. Seeming to get the hint, Garyus lets out a weary groan before nodding at Hisako, then gesturing behind him at the city in the broadest sweep of his arm. "You've got the right place, kid. This whole kingdom's dedicated to religion and fighting, so you've got plenty of warrior monks and kung-fu nuts putting all their focus into both of those things. They don't have a rep for facing down zombies and cavalry for nothing, but you got a hell of a lot of work to go if you're looking to join 'em." The quadrupedal machine accompanying the convoy gets a fair bit more attention than most of the vehicles here, at least in part due to the fact that it's not just 'a wagon' or 'a truck'. Some of the more skittish-looking visitors give the convoy a wider berth just because of it, and the more curious ones draw closer to peek at it. Cantio gets that hailing, and she leans back on one hand atop her own chosen vehicle while the other goes up to her ear to press against the earpiece. It's still habit. "Hm? Oh! Sorry, Dianna. Er. Elra. We need to find the king around here to deliver our proposal, but... You're right. All this stuff here..." She furrows her brow, glancing around at the whole two guards at ground level and the distinct lack of thorough searches even for shadier-looking visitors.
Cantio	"They must be confident in their... Internal security? In something, at least, but not enough that there isn't a traffic jam out here." She concludes with a light sigh. "Do you want me to keep an eye on your stuff? It'd be a shame if you came all the way out here and didn't get a chance to look around." Catching Cantio's words, though, Garyus and the man in the cloak look over at her, then at that big quadruped and Shadow's APC. "You looking to talk the king, too? You and everyone else out here, then. Everyone and their mom's out here trying to win the tournament to get him to grant some wish or whatever, and plenty more probably want that crown of his instead of waiting for next year's tournament." Garyus explains, then laughs. "Why don't you try challenging him there, then? If you can make it that far, anyway." Luckily, the traffic jam does finally abate, and the entire convoy can get far enough inside to properly park! It's a little cramped, but it's Enough as long as nobody minds a few potential scratches on their stuff here and there. Bond is already on his way well into the city rather than sticking around, too, and he's able to find his way around fairly easily with his advance search of a survivor coming here from the northeast. His path (along with anyone else following Garyus' suggestion to join the tournament) to the courtyard is unimpeded aside from the expected stalls taking up way too many space. At the courtyard, a giant of a man roams the grounds with an equally giant widow's peak and high black hair, bearing a persistently serious expression on his face while glancing at each new face in the area. Following behind him is a more human-sized woman with darker blue hair, spending even less time looking at everyone while passing out single pages to each person in the courtyard. Those coming from the greater Multiverse are no exception, of course, although she does pause briefly to size up everyone coming to the courtyard in particular before hurrying up to keep up with the giant. On the paper, the rules for the tournament are laid out rather simply: Melee weapons are okay, magic is okay, projectile weapons are not okay. The tournament is being held round robin style, with the top eight fighters brought into an elimination bracket to claim the title and a chance to ask for the king's favor in any request they might have. Each competitor is expected to fight twice in one day, giving each person some time to recuperate from the last fight before starting anew. Considering the sheer number of people here, however, such a tournament would take days, if not weeks just to get through initial stages. There's plenty of opportunistic locals and outsiders ready to take advantage of the situation, of course, peddling freshly cooked foods and themed merchandise like little feather fans and neck-worn 'air conditioners' that don't actually work well. There's plenty of swordsmen and scarred warriors wandering around, too, but the one that Bond's identified happens to be hanging out with one of those very peddlers with a particularly long head.
Hiromi	"Religion and fighting...?" Well, that's not really difficult for Hisako to understand, but it does make it clear that these guys are from somewhere else. It hadn't quite gotten through to her how many of the people here weren't local. "Are there more than the Eight Holy Warriors of the Star Dragon," she fumbles with prounciation for a moment before getting a close approximation, "Harzgalt?" They speak of a tournament, and she immediately misunderstands something. "Oh, are they fighting to decide the next king? I don't think I can do that while seeing to my own duties. I'm afraid I must decline." She sounds really regretful, too. One ear twitches, and turns, trying to pinpoint where the radio voices are coming from, but will have to turn away to carry that part of the conversation. "Are there priests of Astea, here? It might be--that is, I should speak to them, first. I hope that theirs isn't a silent god." That last term sounded like it barely translated. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I am Hisako," she bows again, "miko of the Archwolf."
Shadow	Karma has not yet caught up to Rouge, so she generally doesn't worry too much about it. "... So there's a wait to talk to the king here. That is frankly unacceptable, even if we had the time." Shadow scrutinizes the rules of the tournament. "... So we win, we get to have our request heard. Simple enough, but..." He glances out over the many people. "That'll take too long too." He makes his way back over to the APC, grabs the push-button mic from the drivers cabin, and then climbs out of the window and up on top of the APC. "Ah-em," he says, his voice amplified by the APC's speakers. It's as good as a megaphone - honestly better, since it's going out in all directions. "Would everyone who is currently signed up for the tournament, going to sign up for the tournament, or is considering at all signing up for the tournament, please raise your hands and keep them raised." He waits a few moments for people to raise their hands, and as he waits he pulls out a large green jewel the size of his fist. "Thank you for making this easy. Attention everyone with your hands raised: your round one opponent is me. The fight starts now. CHAOS-" He blips out of existence from atop the APC, leaving the mic to clatter down to the roof. "-CONTROL!" calls Shadow from somewhere in the crowd, as he appears in midair and spinkicks one of the people who had their hands raised. "CHAOS-" He disappears, and then reappears elsewhere, near the edge of the crowd, going to stomp on a sequence of people one after the other, bouncing from head to head with forceful impacts. "CHAOS-" He's grabbed one of the sturdier looking fighters, and she disappears along with Shadow as he teleports away. It's not clear where they've gone. A few seconds of relative silence pass. "-CONTROL!" Oh, there he is, dropkicking down onto someone else. And so it goes.
James Bond	Bond manages to evade the temptation of the many stalls and vendors on the way to, and inside, the courtyard, being rather single-minded in his search despite the casual air he manages to pull off--his searching seems like it's only incidental. When he spots Scar, Bond's eyes focus on the peddler near him instead. A brief glance is given to the soldier, an affectation of a polite, wordless greeting as he pretends to peruse wares. "Here for the tournament?" he asks Scar with mild interest, blue eyes critically taking in the spread the peddler's set out. He reaches up and strokes his chin. "Don't raise your hand," he says, sotto voce, after a brief glance towards Shadow. Nothing good is going to come from that. Assuming Scar doesn't take Shadow's invitation at his counsel, "Scar, right?" asks Bond, a shade more serious. "Bond. James Bond." He extends his hand for a handshake. "I think we can help each other." He pauses, looks around the courtyard. It's packed. 'Someplace private' isn't going to happen here, and Scar might be suspicious of an effort to get him on his own, given the man's history. "I want to know about the woman who gave you that scar," he says quietly. Turning his attention back to the peddler, and speaking up, he inclines his head towards an 'energy supplement.' "How much?" It's more to keep up appearances than out of genuine interest. What does Shadaloo want from this place? One of the coins he offers as payment conceals a microtransmitter. It must be important, if they have him here. He's one of their best. When the peddler packs up for the day, that microtransmitter should lead Bond to wherever he's holed up. But, for now... "What do you say?" he asks Scar. "I can make it worth your while."
Metamorph One	"Oh, so we get to convince royalty to listen to us about a war. Great." "It's not great, you're right." "I bet he's a smug asshole. If this is the state of his kingdom while this huge conflict is happening, he doesn't give a shit. Men and flexing. We're going to have to prove we're 'worthy' of offering him a 'proposal', right? That's how it always is. He doesn't have to prove he's worthy of being king, but he should be trying to prove he's even worthy of sharing my air." "H-hey, let's calm down for a second, okay? We don't need to say all that to Cantio, right? If worst comes to worst, we can always take care of it ourselves. Like we always have. Right." "Yeah. Like we always have." The comm line with Cantio goes awkwardly silent, simultaneously bubbling with unhappily restrained disgust and apologetic guilt. It cuts out for a little bit, and then, there's a distinct sense that something is being talked about not-for-her-ears. It comes back on a minute later. "Don't need it." "We'll be fine! We can look after our baby ourselves" "And if I get bored or annoyed, I'll show them there's a cost to letting anyone in at the door. Why my callsign is Severance." The two do, actually, park the Metamorph. The quadruped lowers hull down in a space in the courtyard that is vigorously policed for space, despite no other vehicle having the slightest possibility of scratching the paint. Just after the two step down from the cockpit and prepare to leave, Elara removes something from a rear launcher rack, and places it on her raised seat, where it faintly glows. The hatch is sealed moments later. Dianna had said she'd take Elara shopping, and that is, ostensibly, what happens. The two tour around the peddlers taking in the sights and smells, and standing out dramatically in the crowd. Dianna for being tall, Elara for being tiny, both for being in various states of Applied Ontology colour coded dress, both for the VPT devices strapped to differing bodyparts, and Dianna especially for her usual striking hair dye and makeup. Hot food is picked out by Dianna smelling it, delicately passing skewers and tiny bowls to Elara and then carelessly slapping a few coins into open hands. The two chatter amongst themselves up until an opportunistic vendor pisses Dianna off a little too much with his outrageous gouging, and her haggling turns into telling him that he should convince her to pay anything, then flat out just swiping a pair of extras and boldly sauntering off with a rude gesture. Elara is handed the tournament papers not long after; Dianna stands behind her to look over her shoulder, munching on juicy street meat.
Metamorph One	"Well that's convenient." "It is. I bet this was probably Cantio's aim from the start." "Why not just say it?" "Well . . ." "Yeah you're right. Putting someone willing to help next to the hard part you wouldn't dare ask and then acting useless is a pretty old strategy." "Haha, I'm not sure it's as nefarious as that, but it does make what we're really here to do kind of obvious, right?" "Mmh. Maybe I don't feel like it." "You definitely feel like it." "And why are you so confident about that?" "Because otherwise we'd be back at home. I'd be lying in your lap and we'd be watching a stupid Netflix original." "Got it in one." Dianna is pushing her way through the crowd to find Cantio in person, when Shadow starts causing mayhem. Staring at the chaos wide-eyed, Dianna crumples the paper into a wad in her fist, and yells: "Oh motherfucker! I was going to do that first!" Elara hurries up behind her, placing herself firmly behind Dianna's back, even as the pilot snatches up the VPT trigger and flips back the input caps, thumbing the release without a moment's hesitation. "Hey, shouldn't we wait to see if the guards intervene? We could be disqualified before we even begin." "Then we'll just beat everyone here and make the king have to listen to us anyways. No problem."
Cantio	"Right? But it works for them, so." Garyus shrugs, and he's about to turn his attention towards another person approaching the checkpoint when Hisako clarifies her intent about the Eight Holy Warriors. That has both him and the man with the pocketwatch pausing to exchange brief glances before he faces her once more. "You're not from around here, right? Funny that you'd know about that old bedtime story." Garyus sounds like he's trying too hard to sound dismissive, like he might know something. "Garyus, best swordsman in Topaz. We got priests of Astea, yeah, if you're looking for some kinda blessing, but those guys? What makes you think they'd be in here of all places?" He puts a hand on his chin, leaning in to get a better look at Hisako and her twitching ear. The cloaked man actually speaks up, too, sitting up finally and leaning out of the checkpoint to get a better look at Hisako as well. "You're a priest, then? Well met. What's a priest of this Archwolf doing looking for a fairy tale?" He sounds amused, but in a vaguely pleasant sort of way rather than a mocking one. "And this Archwolf... Are they strong, if they have such a title?" Cantio notices that silence from the pair in the Metamorph, but she's polite enough not to say anything about it. Luckily, there's quite a bit to keep track of between making sure the convoy doesn't get split up, and there's also that curious reaction from the men out front, so they get an easy pass! "You don't? Ah, darn. Worth a shot." She jokes with a light giggle, although it goes on just long enough that she might be hiding some of her own disappointment there. Thankfully, there's nobody stupid enough to actually try breaking into the Metamorph (yet) after it's parked. The locals wouldn't know what to do with such a machine, and visitors to this world might be familiar enough with such machines existing that trying to break into one is just a losing battle more often than not. Besides, the visitors here specifically on this day are probably more interested in getting into fistfights rather than messing with cool machine that might kill them. Luckily, Cantio is easy enough to find within the courtyard already, so it's not too hard for Dianna to find her. She's in the middle of reading her own paperwork for the tournament, too, and she's probably doing some quick mental calculations in her head judging from the sharp inhale through her teeth that doesn't seem all that pleased. "... Oh that'd take forever. And in that whole time-"
Cantio	Shadow issues a challenge, and he immediately gets a whole host of eyes right on him. Quite a few people take the bait when he casts it out, too, and he even gets attention from the two more important-looking people in the courtyard when he starts attacking the contestants. There's a fair few that don't stand a chance and would actually just be wastes of time for the tournament, but others withstand his strikes and even fire back with rising uppercuts and somersaulting kicks of their own to try and catch him in the air. Thankfully, nobody's actually panicking. This might just be a normal part of the festivities, too, even if the giant tries calming her down. "Cut that out! Do you want to be disqualified before you even enter?!" "It'll be faster without the weaklings. Why not let him continue?" "Not for the healers, it won't!" Elara's concerns might be of some merit, but it doesn't look like anyone's getting disqualified yet. More and more contestants are joining in on that brawl, too, with some of them even taking the opportunity to take swings at each other, although the bulk of them are going to be focused on Shadow the longer he reveals himself to be one of those infuriatingly mobile fighters. Scar is about to raise his hand, too, but he's stopped by the long-headed peddler beside him along with Bond coming by to introduce himself and warning him not to do just that. "Hn? Yeah, I guess." He doesn't sound like he particularly cares about the tournament when it's brought up, but he has enough sense to shake Bond's hand firmly. "Sorry, but I'm busy." He gestures at the courtyard. "I've got a tournament to-" Bond brings up the scar and, more specifically, the woman that did it. Scar narrows his eyes briefly as though he's sizing Bond up, determining whether or not he's trustworthy enough to speak further. The promise of coin actually seems to put him slightly more at ease, and then he sighs before looking back out towards the crowd over there. "A long time ago, I was the leader of a band of thieves. We were on the trail of a wealthy merchant, but when we found her..." He pauses, looking visibly disturbed for a moment before forcing it back down. "She summoned a horde of monsters that tore all of my men to shreds. I was the only one to survive that day. If she's as bloodthirsty was she as back then, she'll show up here any day now." The peddler, meanwhile, smiles broadly as Bond does a price check. "You sound like you know more than you let on. That'll get you far in this world." He replies with a definitely-not-sketchy chuckle, looking quite amused by the fighting going on. "That really does narrow things down, doesn't it?" Pricing wise, the 'energy supplement' is... Actually pretty reasonably priced. Overpriced compared to other stuff in this area, of course, but it's reasonable by off-world standards when compared with the cost of buying alcoholic energy drinks that might not actually be legal in some areas. The bugged chip slips right past the Shadaloo agent's view, and it goes right into his pockets without a second thought.
James Bond	"Maybe," says Bond to the Shadaloo agent with a wry smile. "It's certainly better than the inverse." Letting on more than you know, that is. "Come on," he says, motioning for Scar to follow him. "Let's have a seat. That woman and her friends are like a force of nature, when they have their sights set on something," he explains with a nod to a nearby Cantio. "It's only gotten worse since she learned to be in different places at once. Best not to get swept up by it, if you can avoid it." And, of course, it's good operational security not to hang around a world class assassin while discussing plans with geopolitical implications. Overpriced (relatively) energy supplement stowed into his gi, Bond gestures to a shaded spot in the courtyard; a bench that's just been freed up by the would-be contestants running to engage Shadow. "Revenge, is it?" he asks, taking a seat. Bond's blue eyes scan Scar for a reaction, one leg crossed over the other. "You'll get no judgment from me," he pre-empts, with a palm gently raised. "I just need to know how she fights, besides the monsters. You see," explains Bond, "I happen to want some things that I imagine will be mutually exclusive with what she wants. And since you're not absolutely certain she'll show up here," he concludes, "I'd like the best possible chance, if it's me that ends up meeting her, later on." "If it isn't..." Bond pauses, shifting on the bench. "Then I'm willing to pay for your... restraint, let's say. Handsomely," he interjects, fully expecting that it's quite personal between him and Scythe.
Shadow	"CHAOS - CONTROL!" "CHAOS - CONTROL!" "CHAOS - CONTROL!" Shadow can keep this up all day. ... Well, okay. No, he can't. And he doesn't really have a plan for what to do when he starts running out of steam. He'll have to find some way to pace himself. "CHAOS-" There's no call of 'CONTROL' this time, and no reappearing Shadow. At least, not outside. "Hello. Seating for one, please, away from the entrances and windows preferrably," he says, politely, after popping back into existence just inside one of the nicer looking restaurants. The DORADO BLACK Card is flashed. "I'll be paying in advance." He drops thirty percent as a tip, and takes his seat before- "- CONTROL!" shouts Shadow, as he pops back into the melee. Another spinkick. Another rising punch. "CHAOS -" "- ah, thank you. It all looks excellent." Shadow the Hedgehog has impeccable table manners. He is the ultimate hospitality recipient. "Let's try something from the wine list as well. The house red? Perfect. Pardon me for one moment-" "- CONTROL!" is all the warning that the street brawl gets, as Shadow akiraposes a motorcycle straight through them. A motorcycle counts as a melee weapon, right? "CHAOS-" "- Oh, no, it was all wonderful. Dessert? I couldn't possibly - well, you've convinced me. Go ahead and bring it out, I'll just be a moment here-" "- CONTROL!" And so it goes.
Hiromi	Hisako will go on not understanding what the tournament is really about, which is probably fine, given that Shadow and Dianna are handling it. 'You're not from around here, right?' She shakes her head. "No, I'm from across the sea. But, I'm here to help someone." She pauses, thinking over her own answer. "That was how it started, but now, I've seen... demons, fighting a mage." She blinks. "Bedtime story?" 'What's a priest of this Archwolf doing looking for a fairy tale?' "The mage told me about it. It didn't sound like it was just a story... but if it is... if people think it is..." She trails off in thought, only to become distracted by the next question. 'Are they strong, if they have such a title?' "The Archwolf is the strongest." The deadest-serious stare. "She who raises, breaks, and flattens mountains -- and she gave me these." Hisako, who put no points in social stealth, raises her white-bronze gauntlets, metal-clad fingers articulating, tail rapidly wagging. It's an actual divine artifact and suitably ornate, to the extent anyone could tell such things. "Oh. What were we talking about?" A moment, and then, "If Astea's priests can give blessings... that's not what I wanted. The Eight Holy Warriors were the ones who fought against those reviving the evil god, right? But if there's an evil god being revived, the goddess of this land should be doing something about it. Can't those priests ask Astea for help, when the world's in danger? Do they not know, or is she not answering?"
Metamorph One	"Hear that? They're not coming. They never do." "That's . . . It's still irresponsible." "You're not thankful for the guards?" "Hahaha, oh gosh no. I already knew they weren't going to. I know how guardian figures really work, after all. They won't lift a finger until it annoys them personally, when it starts to make them look bad, or when it forces them to see something they don't like. Then whoever hit last gets punished." "Then why even--" "I wanted to see Shadow~ Or if I sensed any malicious intent." "You wanted to see if anyone was a threat." "Hah. Hah." "I'm right, aren't I?" "Just get started darling." Dianna tears the last of her street meat off the skewer, struts forward while chewing, taps the nearest contender in a gi on the shoulder, and says through a full mouth "Hold this." before flipping and driving the flimsy piece of wood into his thigh, and shoving him aside. Elara trots back to the Metamorph, staying out of trouble and climbing on top of the turret, where she can scan the crowd from on high. Her personal comm blinks on without her touching it, causing Dianna's to glow in matched synchrocity. No sound comes out of the earpiece, but the thought is shared all the same. <<Ghost Light on station. Thirty five meters ahead, black top, head above the crowd. Second round, I think. Move straight forward on twelve heading and flank from behind. It's all small fry in the way, don't worry. Shadow is operating to your nine, forty meters.>> <<Skirmish fighter. Pretty impressive hit and run. Heading twelve then nine; I'm going to keep them from boxing him in.>> Dianna wades into the crowd. Just one cylinder in the VPT against her back depresses, humming faintly as she holsters the trigger again, faint pulses of light, like fine orange strings glinting against the sun, run to her earpiece. The first contender in her way gets a punch straight to the face; a good forward lunge, a full rotation at the hips, out to the extent of her arm and concentrated on the flat, but otherwise just a fine example of someone who knows what they're doing in a street brawl; not kung-fu. It's instantly enough to send him ploughing through several rows of contestants ahead of him, knocking them over like bowling pins and landing in a pile of bodies. Her knee comes up and boot snaps out like she's kicking a door down, and the force is visible as a shivering wave, hurling another unlucky fighter through the courtyard and into the side of a Desperado truck, causing it to rock on the axel. Pushing into the gap, she bashes wannabe martial artists aside left and right, crumpling people with swift jabs to the guts and hooks to the side of the head, up until she's attacked directly from behind. Then, without actually looking, she throws her hand out behind him, and his entire body stops dead, frozen dead save for the creak of popping joints. She spins around and throws a rough roundhouse kick into his side, and bowls him through another row of small fry in Shadow's direction.
Metamorph One	Her own plan to disrupt everything in the same way is pretty obvious now. For some reason, a mecha pilot is able to flatten people into the dirt with grazing blows, crushing guards more skilled than her punches and hurling the crowd this way and that. Anyone attacking her is immediately reacted to before she could possibly see them coming. Improvised projectiles and fighters sent flying by shadow are avoided with slight motions, or essentially bounce right off her. At one point, she trades what should be effective fa-jin from one fighter straight to the abs to grab his face and smash his head through a vendor stall. She isn't moving fast, so none of her movements seem taxing. She's not really breathing all that heavily either, but clearly laser focused on everything in her surroundings despite her haphazard street fighting. Her strategy is pretty simple, boiling down to crashing into and completely overpowering anyone who looks too weak to resist being crushed; and her intuition is uncanny. Perfect, even; she aims strictly for fighters who'd never make it to the higher rounds as if it all came to her in a dream.
Cantio	"That it is, Mister Bond! Perhaps we'll meet again someday, if you're looking for... Ah, but let's not reveal our hands too early, shall we?" The agent replies to Bond in that same shrill, but still pleased-sounding tone. "I'll find you again later, Scar. Maybe even sooner if your mystery woman shows up during all of this." The agent stays right where he is to keep peddling his various drinks and supplements, content to watch Shadow with strangely focused interest. Surely that's not going to be trouble later on. The tracker won't be moving until after the tournament is over. Once it does, though, it moves at a rapid clip, eventually ending up at the southern end of the continent between Highland to the southeast and Bozack to the southwest, nestled right in a village bordering Lightan Castle. For now, though, Bond has Scar in tow, and the latter relaxes by the tree while watching the brawl off in a semi-close distance. "Two places? And then there's that teleporting one, and the one with the machines... Strange crew you've brought with you, Mister Bond." He comments, noticing that nearby Cantio, then a second Cantio in a pumpkin-colored witch's outfit. "Not just anyone would come out to a tournament dressed like... That. But if all of you are that weird, you might just be able to..." Bond seeks information, and Scar stops distracting himself long enough to answer. "Besides the summoning? She's one of the most powerful magic-users in Fandaria's army, second only to Gaul. Or so I've heard, anyway. I could've sworn I saw her tearing into some of my men personally that horrible night, though, so she might not even need that magic if she can just get her hands on you. I... I don't think she used any weapons, though, but she wouldn't have needed them, anyway." Clearly, he's still kind of fucked up over all this, and he only scoff-laughs at the suggestion of being paid. "If you really think you can take her, though, then I'll take payment in seeing her head on a pike. I won't say no to payment for other work if you've got it, though." Shadow's Chaos Control deck proves to be patently unfair for most of the combatants that had raised their hands and rely primarily on just unga-bungaing their way through. Even though some of them are actually quite adept at knocking opponents out of the air (perhaps even trained to do so on reaction), it's a different story when said opponent is also not visible for erratic stretches of time. It's even more confusing when he disappears long enough to put in his order at a restaurant, the card getting him quite a few fancy fixins at that one really nice place nobody local ever goes to because they can't afford to. It's also a bit of a tourist trap, but that's just the sort of clientele that shows up at these places when they want something familiar even in foreign lands. Sadly, all of their dishes are heated or room-temperature at most, but the fruits used in the dessert are really fresh. "Does that count as a melee weapon, Shaia? He's holding it." The stoic giant asks, squinting briefly at the motorcycle. "He's /riding/ it, Raizak. Ngh. I don't know. We can check with the king later." The weary priest replies with a frustrated noise, frantically scribbling down notes about everything she's seeing. "It's not like we'd let horses into this, so why would we let a...?!" Dianna gets the attention of one of the contenders, and he only has enough time to look at her, at the skewer, then at her again before she forces his attention back down to his thigh with the skewer now in it. There's screaming and shouting as she joins in the brawl Shadow started, drawing the attention of several more contenders that are now seeing her as another threat to their positions.
Cantio	Perhaps it's by coincidence, but splitting everyone's attention between Dianna on the ground and Shadow in the air makes it even easier for them to thin out the herd through so many diving kicks and momentum-laden punches right into the face. There's some outliers and massive skill gaps just from the contenders they do thrash, too, but even the hardiest ones are... Well. They're not named or portrait-bearing fighters, so they don't really stand a chance. Some of them might simply be unlucky, too, having other contestants hurled right into them without even getting a chance to get a proper line out themselves. Cantio, of course, justhas the color draining from her face rapidly throughout this whole matter. "G... Guys? We're here to convince them that we want to help!" Hisako answers Garyus' and the seated man's questions, drawing more inquisitive looks from the pair. The swordsman glances back at the commotion further inside the city, and he gestures at it while glancing at his checkpoint partner, but the latter just shakes his head and focuses his attention back on the mysterious miko. "Across the sea, eh? And... Demons? You sure you weren't just-" Before Garyus can continue '''playing''' dumb, the cloaked man stops him with a brief wave of his hand, then leans forward in his seat. "The story of the Eight Warriors would be a bedtime story these days, but... You're not making this up, are you? If you've spoken to a mage about this-" He raises his left hand again and stares at it for several moments, then at Hisako once more. "Strange that you'd know all about that legend without..." As that man speak, he eyes Hisako's gauntlets curiously, whistling lightly as he gets a better look at the craftsmanship. She might even notice some divine power radiating from him in turn, but it settles down a few moments later. Garyus, meanwhile, is just distracted by the tail wagging. "Anyway. Astea was the creator of this land, but Harsgalt was the one that fought the evil god in that story. You wouldn't expect a creation god to fight, just as you wouldn't expect your Archwolf to..." The distracted man pauses as his eyes go wide, as if something's suddenly come to mind. "... Is your Archwolf around? Is she-" He gestures towards the courtyard, leaning over to peer at the chaos being controlled and the fists start flying around, but never accurately enough to land directly on Dianna. "One of them? Your friends are really something else." The man starts laughing a hearty, full-throated laugh as he gets up from his seat finally, revealing himself to actually be pretty goddamn built and nearly as tall as the giant in the courtyard. He strokes his chin briefly while watching for a little longer, then leans over to make sure only Hisako hears him. "Bring your friends to the castle once you're bored here. Tell them Kazabu sent you." He doesn't actually leave, of course. No, he's going to go into one of the nearby local spots to get something to eat while watching the rest of this brawl until the contenders finally wise up and back off.
Hiromi	'... Is your Archwolf around? "She isn't here... probably." It is never possible to definitively state that Hiromi isn't nearby. "But, she'll hear me if I call out." The tilt of Hisako's ears indicate a lack of comprehension of the question's intent. 'Your friends are really something else.' "Yeah! The ones I've seen fight are very strong." She then has to tilt her head up to keep looking him, the man she presumes to be Kazabu in the face. "Okay! I'll tell them." And she does.
James Bond	"To be honest, it's more like I invited myself along," says Bond to Scar, reaching into his gi to turn the 'energy supplement' over in his hand and passively scanning the ingredients. "To keep an eye on things. We don't always want the same thing--and it's often easier to prevent a disaster than it is to undo one." Despite Scar's willingness to leave 'payment' at 'killing Scythe,' Bond shakes his head, and insists on offering him a heavy pouch of local coinage. "I'd prefer it if I could take her alive, whether she talks or not," he explains. "Having a high ranking enemy officer in your custody is always an advantage. It puts them on the back foot." He shrugs his shoulders lightly. "That's not to say it absolutely won't go down that way--to some extent, it's her choice, after all." Sometimes high-profile targets like her just won't be taken alive. "At least with those," he says, nodding towards the coin pouch, "You're compensated either way." "As for other work..." Bond again sizes Scar up, humming with interest. "That depends on how rusty you've gotten since your last mark," he says. "If you can still keep a low profile, be discrete, and patient, then I certainly do have something for you." he says, bouncing the 'energy supplement' in his hand. "When you've finished with your bouts today, and the merchants have all packed up, come visit me, and make sure you're not followed. I'm staying at one of the inns on the northern side of town. The Smiling Sun. Upstairs, last room on the left." A glance towards the 'merchant' in the distance. "I'll have more for you then. For now, I've got a few more things to look into. Cheers."