Welcome to the Colosseum (Tournament Signups)

[Storyteller]

The Camelot colosseum was bursting with life.

While most events held at the massive structure were popular, the appeal of a tournament between primes was enough to draw people from far and wide. Faces from Darkshire, the Tangled Green, and the Vasty Deep could be spotted among the people in the stands or those milling around throughout the structure and the small carnival outside. While there were undoubtedly people on vacation from Coruscant, it was a given that none of them would make that fact public given the proximity to Minas Tirith.

Outside of the stadium, ‘Baron’ Victor von Magnus wandered the large grounds. In time, he would be ushered into his booth, but for now, he could relax among everyone else.

In-character registration entails little more than walking up to an attendant inside the colosseum structure and writing your name on a list.

You may register and then either enjoy the carnival outside the colosseum or hang out inside the structure. I imagine that the inside is kind of set up like a modern stadium (albeit, you know, medieval-themed)… stuff like stands selling food from various regions in Camelot and other places selling local merchandise. The carnival will have much of the same, along with carnival game stands.

There is also a free carriage service that takes people to Minas Tirith, which is just a few hours to the north.

Registration will last throughout the coming week, with the first round of fights starting either Friday night or Saturday morning. This waiting period amounts to just a few days in-character.

[Shulk]

The structure known as the Colosseum, Shulk discovered, was a boiling pot of activity. Outside, it was a struggle for the boy to get his bearings due to the massive influx of people that threatened to jostle him if he wasn't attentive enough to avoid them. From a select few people passing by, Shulk managed to gleam some information out of the overwhelming crescendo of noise around him. There was a tournament of sorts taking place a few days from now, and competitors from all over the Omniverse were said to be taking part in it. Powerful primes were sure to take participate, so the conversations went.

With the Colosseum looming large over the surrounding area, Shulk decided then and there to participate in the competition. He wasn't confident in his chances to actually win it, the real goal was to see if using the Monado more would somehow jog his memory, maybe he could recall more of his past if he remembered past battles? It was a shaky theory, but at least he'd still get some practical experience even if he didn't remember a thing.

After no small effort on Shulk's part, he broke free of the throngs outside and entered the massive structure. From the outset, Shulk noticed that there were strange, yet pleasant smells from the distant food stands tempted the Homs to try foreign delicacies. If a stand wasn't hawking food, there were men and women pitching their wares -- from toy weapons to little flags, among other things. On the other side of the arena, he noticed an official looking man standing beside a podium, and on it rested parchment. Fortunately for Shulk, he had an easier time making his way over to it this time.

As Shulk approached the man, he gave the podium a studious glance. The parchment on top of it had what looked to be names written down. "Registration is still open." The Monado wielder looked at the man beside the podium and nodded. With a quill dipped in ink, Shulk awkwardly signed his name in one of the many empty spaces. With that, Shulk left the Colosseum for the carnival outside. He didn't have any kind of money to his name, however, so he sort of loitered about. He thought it was fun enough watching the festivities anyway.

[Shang Tsung]

Geoffrey Hamilton stepped through the gate from the Pale Moors, and out from the other side stepped a grinning Shang Tsung. By now, the stories would be trickling through the streets—‘Oh no, the town council is putting out hits on our beloved heroes!’ With a little bit of coercion and manipulation, Shang had convinced the young Skendor that the time to grief for his father was later. By taking the dirty fighting to the folks in town hall, they would be able to recover some momentum.

In the meantime, Shang Tsung would have some time to himself. He had informed Dobson that he would be back within a week to give the younger man some time to spin the situation. In the interim, the sorcerer had told Dobson to rely on Atelos, who would be more than willing to break a few jaws in the event of any violence.

With some time to his thoughts and to think of the next move, Shang traveled north into Camelot.

***

After a few hours of walking along a cobblestone path, Shang found himself approaching a massive concrete structure. While the scale of the building was enough to pique his interest, the fact that it was surrounded with a swarming sea of tiny buildings added to the man’s curiosity. The closer he got to the massive amphitheater, the louder the large carnival became.

“Welcome to the Colosseum!” Someone shouted as Shang passed inside the giant, spread-out area.

“Thank you,” the sorcerer shouted back as he continued toward the massive building that shadowed over the fairgrounds. He weaved his way through a group of people thick enough that he had to gently push a few of them out of his way. Once he was into the colosseum proper, he felt a little less suffocated.

“Are you here to register?” A woman asked from a few feet away, prompting the sorcerer to turn in her direction and walk toward her.

“For?”

“The tournament being held in a few days, of course. Are you a competitor?”

Shang smiled. “Yes, I am. Where do I sign?”

[Weiss Schnee]

Weiss nervously navigated the streets, resisting the urge to sneeze as oh so much dust filtered the air. For a place that had felt so empty until now, she'd never have imagined the spectacle around her. now, the air was filled with nothing but the sound of hooves and feet as people wandered through the area, and what little the Heiress could hear over the din was the combined chatter of hundreds of conversations all around her. there had to be thousands of people here.

No matter how hard she looked, though, she couldn't find a single red cloak in the sea of faces and bodies.

Then again, Weiss mused, Ruby wasn't really a fan of crowded places. If she was here, Weiss would bet money that she'd be interested in a tournament like this if she heard of it, but she definitely wouldn't stay longer than it took to submit an application. As Weiss looked through the sea of happy, laughing faces, she suddenly found herself understanding where her leader was coming from.

She kept her head up long enough to find the submission table, and then hoofed it over there as quickly as she could without just bumping into people - though, even that was difficult, as the steadily increasing traffic found ways to seemingly be almost everywhere at once. Weiss took deep breaths, as she got closer to the stand. What was wrong with her? There was a time where she used to arrange entire proms... Now she couldn't help but want to be out of this crowded mess as soon as possible. Something about all these people just... bothered her, deeply.

:"Here to enter?" A voice in front of her asked. Weiss realized it was a female register at the very desk she was trying to reach. At some point running through the crowds, she'd forgotten that there was a point besides "escape the suffocating mass of bodies".
"I am."
"Alright then. Sign your name here. Though if ya can't read or write, we'll sign for ya. We get those types here, too. no shame in it." The woman said with an almost chipper tone.

"Thank you. But I'm fine, really." Weiss said, realizing with some surprise that even in the general public she wasn't recognized. While her first encounter with that mask salesman should have tipped her off, and the fact she was in a different world, really, should have tipped her off, she hadn't really absorbed the fact that the Schnee name meant nothing here. To walk around and be recognized, not as an heiress, or huntress, was a new experience to her. No one in Vale hadn't heard of who she was.

"So of course I get freedom from the name right when I would finally have a use for it.' Weiss thought with a grimace, as she signed her name on a sheet of parchment. Weiss didn't really care for her position as Heiress - the idea of working as just another businesswoman giving humanity it's lifeblood for as much cash as possible didn't appeal to her the way it did her father. Sto;;. the title had given her access to resources and options that normal people didn't have. Now, Weiss had no nigh-omniscient information network or employees bending over backwards to give her special access to all sorts of restricted areas. She really was alone in finding her team. And in general.

"Alright, we have you registered. Weiss... Schnee, is it?"
"Yeah... That's me."
The parchment and quill were snatched away from her miraculously quickly. "the announcements for the matchups will be in a few days, but feel free to enjoy the carnival until then. You'll be called for just before your match, and we'll get you all set up!"
Weiss nodded, before walking away from the desk, a little quicker than she meant to. She immediately looked for a less crowded area to clear her head.
"I don't know how I'll manage it... but I can't afford to lose!"

[Dawnika Snow]

Dawnika and her group were just outside of Minas. They had decided to spit up for niw and planned to meet back up later. She patted on Konlalto signal him to get moving. Approaching the capital, she understood that Konlal was not going to make it through the huge crowd of people in the carnival. Dawnika left Konlal just outside the city and made her way to the colloseum on foot. She got weird stares from peope considering how odd she looked wearing no shoes and her eyes glowed with fire. Walking into the colloseum sign-up room, Dawnika observed the line of people signig up for the contest. She waited in line until it was finally time for her signup, and wrote her name on the list. After her name was on paper for the contest, she walked out into the carnival andobserved many of the weapons people had with them. She stayed near the sign-up building like Alexyana so she could be found easily.

[King Axorn]

Axorn hopped on his chestnut steed and took off, making his way into the colosseum fairgrounds and making his way through the crowds of hundreds of people towards the registration booth. When Axorn had finally made his way there, he got off his horse and walked up to the booth. "Hello there," came the voice from inside, "are you here to sign up for the tournament?" "Yes, I am," Axorn replied. "Please sign your name here." The man pulled out a form and slid it onto the booth counter. Axorn quickly read it over and then signed his name with the nearby quill pen. "Alright, you're all set up!" The man took back the form gently. "Enjoy the fair!"

[Undyne]

"Hooh. Easy now." Alexyana calmed her Kumdo with words and pats to its neck when they approached the massive crowd around and in the fair, which the mount was not used to. She guided it as close as she dared before dismounting and dismissing it for the time being, then she took a good look around. Unlike earlier now this was full to the brim. There were booths everywhere, shops selling souvenirs or allowing the spectators to set bets, reserve seats and buy corndogs and other things that would be served to them during the actual tournament.

She approached one of the guardsmen that had to be around for any event of this size, especially considering that it was a tournament held with weapons - things could easily get out of hand in such an environment - and asked them for directions to the sign-up booth. With a similar light... disgust? the man pointed her to a booth with a few people near it, where the dragoness approached. I do hope that they have dragon-sized quills... "Eh, hello? I'm here for the tournament. I want to register as a participant." She told the bored-looking man sitting inside that was looking at the fair from behind a glass pane. Clearly he wanted to be there rather than in this place, taking applications from fighters.

"Here's yer form, ye sign the bottom an' hand it back... make sure ta follow the deadline. If ye can't read an' write, there's plenty a' translators round fer a fee." The man replied without even raising his eyes and passed a paper form through the slit under the booth. There was a table with an ink pot and several quills, some already used, of various sizes and shapes. Perfect. Alexyana grabbed one of the larger ones, dipped it into the ink and filled out what there was to fill before placing a calligraphic signature beneath. Indeed, for a clawed beast she had quite nice handwriting, but that was one of the perks that came with graduating college in Hell. Though the man looked up briefly when she returned the filled-out form he only so much as quirked an eyebrow before eyeing the form over and nodding and placing a stamp next to her signature that marked her form as approved. "Enjoy the fair. An' make sure ta listen to yer name if ye don' wan ta be disqualified, eh?"

"I hopefully will. Thank you for your help." With that she backed away and eyed the fair once more, though she waited for her friends before going anywhere else.

[Magus]

What he had learned from the townspeople wasn’t much, but it was enough to know that he could travel somewhat freely, so long as he was careful. Soldiers and guards all over this parcel of Camelot were looking for escaped prisoners, though none specifically sought him out. He’d summoned clothes to make himself look enough like a common traveler, complete with a hooded robe, sack cloth pants, and a heavy rucksack filled with camping gear, preserves, and other survival equipment. He would need none of it but all of it added to the illusion.

The prison was conveniently located almost exactly halfway between the Colosseum and Minas Tirith, so the distance he needed to travel wasn’t far at all, and a summoned horse helped to expedite his journey without drawing any undue attention.

Twice he passed by travelling sentries, and only once was he stopped. The search was brief and not thorough; a quick glance in his rucksack and a few questions about where he was headed. He was honest; many would be interested in the events at the Colosseum and so it would hardly come as a shock that people would be on the road headed toward it.

The rest of the journey passed without event and Magus arrived, trotting his horse past a couple of other travelers and hitching it up at a post with several other horses. He looked up at the Colosseum sat on top of a short, squat hill, and at the bustling crowd that had gathered at its entrance.

All around the building, too, were events of all kinds. Carnival games, food stands, mobile shops, fireworks and displays of showy magic and cantrips. The whole place crackled with a lively energy that danced and swirled around the heavy, gloomy energy that ebbed and swelled around him.

He picked his way through the crowd toward the mouth of the grand, ornate stadium that loomed over him, glaring down with its hundreds of statue-filled eyes and felt a shiver pass up his spine as he passed inside of the structure.

There, to his left, was a fairly unassuming table with a man dressed in regalia, a large, ornate book, and a black-feathered quill & inkwell. A sign above the table read “GLADIATORS REGISTER HERE.”

The attendant shot him a sideways glance, sizing up his intentions. “You know there’ll be Primes competing, right? Some fantastically strong. You might be killed.” And we don’t come back like they do he didn’t need to say.

The hooded traveler stepped up to the registry and waved his hand toward a blank spot on the grand page. There, amongst the other signatures, Magus flashed up in ornate letters, the script sizzling into the page. “I am a Prime.”

The wizard-incognito turned away from the booth and wandered further into the ornate structure, hoping to dodge the crowd as much as possible and stay out of sight – especially from the authorities – until it was time for the fighting to begin.

[Simon]

Continuing some time after Dante's first experience in the Astral Realm.

It wasn't like this was the clear thing for Dante to do; he was simply at a loss right now, really. Winning a physical battle and then consequentially losing a spiritual one was hitting the devil hunter harder than he'd like, and when he woke up to the blinding white he felt more in the dark than ever. His inner world in ruin, his many abilities missing, and his weapons far away, Dante had little options left to him. As Vergil might mock him, "Where's your motivation?"

Uncanny, seeing how much he had Vergil on his mind. Ever since that fleeting moment when Dante realized he was turning into the power-seeking, heartless pit that was his brother, that image seemed to haunt him only more. At least in this case, it seemed almost right - Dante did need power if he was going to get anywhere in this world, and power came in the form of Omnilium.

So why an arena? It seemed like a good idea at the time. Fight other opponents, defeat them, gain power and glory. But he couldn't give all credit to himself, having browsed the Dataverse for a bit of time before finding posts on a certain rumored tournament somewhere in Camelot. The rest he found was just different chat services, public complaints about Omni, or different factions looking to add souls to their ranks.

It just didn't quite click yet to Dante that this was more than a foreign universe - it was a conglomeration of different worlds and peoples, all just looking to find their way in this place. And it didn't even occur to him that the people he might face in their tournament might very well be humans or other good folks.

Deciding on a new change of appearance, Dante had concentrated and remodeled his clothing, adopting a more comfortable guise. The red longcoat buffed out into something a bit more open and flashy, but still equally strapped up and built to hold his weapons. The black vest went under his coat this time, appearing vaguely more like a dress shirt, while his pants loosened into large slacks that fell over his boots. His hair grew longer and more smooth, to fall down around his head like a new mop, where his skin shone a bit more color to it than before. Even if he couldn't change his bleak, determined face, Dante could at least try and look a bit more natural - whatever that meant, here.

Of course, with all the weapons strapped to him, the nephilim still couldn't help but look out of place for Camelot. It was clear this world was actually inspired from the historical place, complete with medieval clothing and architecture, from the cities he could see. He was stopped a couple of times by armored guards asking about his weapons, but Dante was finally directed with little other question to the Colosseum where the tournament was to take place.

"Er... you are a Prime, am I correct, sir?" One of the guards stationed outside the Colosseum probed cautiously at the new arrival, whom had merely asked for confirmation that this was the place to sign up at.

"Yeah, sure, what of it?"

The guard seemed to mull over his next words carefully at Dante's tilt of the head. "Well, it's just that we are expecting a lot of Primes here at this tournament - not that such a fact would stop you all, but... well, not everyone benefits from your capabilities, shall we say."

An awkward pause, and then Dante piped up, "Whatever, I'll be careful," strolling off dismissively into the main hall of the building. With something between a sigh and a bated breath being released, the guard went back to his duties.

[Black Mage]

Goowain rode around the town with his gloopy steed, garnering a bit of attention as the slime slithered and slunk. While the Colosseum was being filled with all manner of species most of the non-humans were contenders, and most of the contenders had a bit more 'fearsome' appearance than he. Not that Goowain particularly cared what any of the other folk thought of him, his shield and sword were not used for play.

"I'd like to register." Goowain finally said as he reached the front of the line. The clerk, a human male, looked down at his desk before deciding to stand up to better see Goowain.

"I'm sorry, but tournament is restricted to Primes."

"I am veteran of the war against Diablo. I can handle myself."

"Be that as it may I can't let you register unless you're a Prime. It's just too dangerous."

"Half the people in this tournament know nothing of danger."

"I'm sorry but I can't let you enter the tournament. I can direct you a ticket booth or an odds table, but I can't enter you in the tournament."

The slime knight looked at the clerk for another moment and then let out a heavy sigh.

"Very well." He said and kicked his gloopy steed to signal it to go. Off to the Ticket Booth they'd go. If he could not fight for honor at least he would witness today's crop of 'heros' and see who the next Tyrael might be.

[Ururu Kyuuei]

Ururu and Hikaru had settled into a faux companionable silence, throughout their flight they had been going back and forth on why they hadn’t been able to get the clone transformations on line. Worse still she couldn’t get Henge to do its proper job.

That used to be one of her top techniques and for the life of her… she couldn’t figure out what was going on. She had more than enough omnilium. More than half she had started with now and it was gaining with erratic force.

Wind flushed through constant breeze and a whistle as the dragon’s twenty meter wing span sliced through rough patches of air and thermals with equal skill and precision. It also helped that it had enough mass where the strongest of winds barely moved it from its chakra driven course which now that Ururu realized it didn’t cost her much. Not nearly as much as it would have back there…

And she barely felt any real drain at all from maintaining.

It felt like cheating.

Pale gleaming towers of stone, thatch and wood and a floating city in the distance. But the biggest sign of all a giant Colosseum. All of it decidedly of a foreign make. Of stuff she found in history books imported from far off lands beyond the elemental nations.

But more importantly the layout showed tactical thinking of someone used to holding back sieges. Whoever designed this city showed a single cohesive plan, with bottlenecks that were strategically placed for a ground invasion, to say nothing of an aerial invasion which… if all things being equal they would be shot down likely from key towers.

And there, just like a puzzle it all fit together.

Landing pads and runways stretched across the city at key points and considering the size and weight of her mount she’d have to take one of the largest which in her favor was close to the Arena’s front grounds. Flight was indeed the popular method of travel.

She gave a light pat from the neck of her Dragon, willing that location into its memory and how she wanted it to land. Nothing less than perfect.

The dragon snorted with iron basso before it started circling once to bleed off speed and then take to the ground. Its first step back on the ground sounded like a falling tree, the second like an explosives and its back two followed again by the front two made a jackhammer sound weak. It wings were angled also in it flapping to bring them and its own immense mass to a halt, stirring no little amount of dust in the process

It gave another trumpeting roar, clearing a few passersby that were getting to close. It thunder heart quickening only slightly before it lower its tail from a counter balance into a ramp for every to disembark from.

Patting it several time, Ururu thanked it before simply hopping off to the ground below.

“Thank you for flying the Ururu Express. If anyone has left their lunch behind well… there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Ururu gave a sniff, “Good news seems to be plenty of fresh lunch here.”

Hikaru shot a conspirator’s glance at the sound of food. At least that never changed. Maybe they had that delicious bacon somewhere. Maybe about 100 or 200 kilos?

Nodding in silent agreement Ururu sent her thoughts plainly, Take them for all they have

With pleasure Came a rather… aggressive, predatory tone. It was an aspect that Ururu was still getting used to, Haruru had always been proper even in the worst of times. Hikaru, the girl who she became, well not as much. More human. And with little discourse or note, she saunter off into the stands and kiosks following her nose.

Ururu grinned.

This may just be a great day and it was young. For that matter something told her she was on the cusp of figuring out a good many issues, the first among them the clone transformations, second finally understanding this place.

And finally everyone disembarked from her dragon which she wasted no time reclaiming every ounce of and then some.

Looking to the people who had flown with her… they seemed sort of a motley crew didn’t they? She just nodded, “time to register,” before disappearing from the crowd

And she moved off as well. It was pretty simple to find, it was like all bureaucracies. A Queue based in a poorly setup location, far too many people in the way which made getting in difficult. But the actual sign ups seemed to be rather empty. Though people getting access to what looked like the audience seats ticket… not so much.

When they first spotted her there was a quick exchange of looks exasperated for the most part. Ururu kept moving towards the registration area. None spoke

One had a rather annoyed look to be honest while the other simply raised an eyebrow.

“I wish to-“

“Yes we know. Every child around has been wanting to register. How old are you little girl?” Came a particularly nasal voice.

Ururu wasn’t surprised though she was miffed by the tone to say the least. She had several options here but, she really didn’t care at this point. If what she had just seen in her first three days was self-evident then Primes came in every flavor or the rainbow. Which means these people had no reason to deny her entrance, so might as well get this over quickly

Ururu held out her hand, two leaned forward, one leaned back.

“Which do you want to see?

The one that leaned back as if something was going happen winced. Obviously this man had some idea what kind of response his colleagues would have on primes that were… vertically challenged.

“Pardon?” The nasal one said with no fluster.

“Omnilium or total destruction.” Ururu said in as sweet and naïve tone as she could muster.

The one leaning back must have lost his nerve to wait her out, “Just sign here little miss, no need to for theatrics.”

Ururu nodded and did just that. On the paper she put her alias in perfect calligraphy before skipping back into the crowd.

枯死悪人 - Withering Rogue

[Okor]

The marine jumped down from the obsidian flank of the flying beast, necrotic feet impacting heavily on the soft earth, a small cloud of dust billowing up from his landing. He outstretched his lengthy arms, catching the giggling child that accompanied him, settling Rebbecca on to the ground. The majesty of their mount dissipated behind him, its inanimate mass collapsing back into the stone that had brought it forth. That was, without a doubt, the singular worst experience he had ever had the displeasure of existing through. Kilometers above the surface of the earth, skimming through air and clouds, twisting and turning around the intricacies of the convection cycle. The height was dizzying, the feeling of watching such a great distance traversed in such little time nauseating. He could see why the Thunderhawks and Drop-pods he had used had lacked windows. Not only were they a structural weakness, but the sheer disorientation of such velocity... He shook the thoughts off as Rebbecca pranced around the bustle of the city. She gripped his pestilential claw and dragged him forward, the heavy stomp of his ceramite boots following behind the little sister. The marble walls of the Colliseum loomed into view, its arches already packed with the masses. The weak, thoughtless masses, flocking to a source of simple, blood-filled entertainment. They were bored dullards, seeking escape from the utter meaningless of their daily lives. Pathetic.

His rotten eye, still pinkish where it had recovered from its earlier maiming, spotted a gaudily decorated stand by the entrance, the destination of Rebbecca's inexorable progress. It bore some writing on a banner strung between poles mounted on either side, but it was nothing more that scrawls to Okor. It was several seconds before her short stride brought the undead warrior to the booth, as the young woman within its wooden construction looked up at the towering giant, his baleful eye bearing down onto her demure pale face. "Hi there, here to register?" She spoke in a chipper tone, free of fear, terror, or anxiety. "You are not... worried?" spoke the Plague Marine, questioning the lady's seeming fearlessness. She responded with a bright smile. "I apprentice at the local mage's guild. After the fourth organ inversion, you begin to become a little bit... jaded, let's say." She dragged out a piece of paper and a Quill, setting it down in front of the Chosen of Nurgle, tapping an empty field with her slight finger. "Just sign here. The rest is largely administrative data. All I need to know is that you're of age in your home 'verse, a Prime, and understand that these can very well be fights to the death." The hulk of dead flesh chuckled as his passengers writhed within him. "I've outlived several civilizations, young one. I do not... fear death, for Nurgle embraces me." He flicked his bare fingers, an iridescence manifesting between jaundiced claws. Omnillium. "I believe this... suffices for evidence of my state of being." The attendant laughed, confirming his assumption. He pointed his gauntlet at his ward, the child beaming up over the lip of the desk. He slipped a disk of shifting colours across the rough wood of the surface, swirling variations running over its veneer of stability. "I presume this will suffice for her... Entrance fee?" The woman took the token of power, slipping it into a steel strongbox beneath her workplace. "It sure will. Just sign, and you can head on in."

Okor took the Quill in his claw, and began to mark the paper, forming the symbols he was told served as his identifier, declaring himself to be one of the Legions of Old, ancient and powerful. One amongst many, broken and rebuilt by the ages, transformed into something less than Human, while being substantially more.

14-4-8-7.

Passing the slip back to the attendant, he began to walk through the arches, the distinct feeling of repressed bloodlust suffusing the atmosphere.

Blood for the crowds, so that his name would be carved into legend.

Blood for the gods, so that his name would be carved into the stars.

Blood for himself, so that his name would be carved into his foe's chests.

[Corporal Light]

"Why in the name of God's white, snowy, cold, blinding earth does more people need to appear the closer I get to this building?" Ballad said to himself as he stops in front of the large Colosseum. I guess it DOES look bigger the closer you get to it, making something awesome all the more impressive. Which begs the question on how the hell it was made in the first place. Looked to be made of some kind of stone, but it wasn't a simple construction job here.

The Colosseum itself was fucking beautiful, there was no question there. And that bartender wasn't kidding when he mentioned that it attracted people from...across the verses? Hold on a second..

"Verses? Did he mean worlds? Are there other places just like this?!" Now that he thought about it, and actually took a better look around the crowd, not everyone looked so similar anymore. Some people were shorter, but stockier, others were tall and lean. Some wore some kind of fishing hat, while others looked like they were caked in a light-brown, flakey substance. And weren't wearing a lot of clothes. And others still looked... about what he would expect to be locals, really. He had come to think that everyone who was born and raised here had hairy arms and talked in country farmer accents.

"But that still begs the question..." Ballad continues, walking up towards the Colosseum, "is this a really elaborate dream, or hell? We've ruled out heaven, because pain is still a thing here, apparently. So the logical assumption would be to say that I'm in hell. But for some reason I don't think that's the case. Otherwise, literally every moment I'd have in this place would be insufferable. And I'd be insane."

Ballad continues discussing with himself as he tosses the food he had in his hand to his right, having it land somewhere in the middle of the dirt path. Eventually, he finds himself facing a man with a piece of parchment standing on a podium. He keeps on talking to himself, though, only stopping once he reaches the man. Looking up at him, he asks "This where the Primes sign up for the tournament?"

The man on the podium looks down at the new Prime, grinning a bit. He says "Of course. Got a fee spots left, all you have to do is sign your name on this here parchment. We'll contact you when you are needed," as he hands the parchment and a quill to Ballad.

Grabbing the parchment and quill, he gazes down at the parchment, seeing a whole manner of names down there, none of which he recognized. So there will be more than just three of them.. fuck bubbles. Well, the only downside to this is that I risk not winning the tournament, but I can't die, so what am I so concerned about.

Sighing, he writes the word "Ballad," as legiblly as possible before handing it back to them. Taking his red scarf, he wraps it back around his head, turning around and heading back down to the Carnival.

[Simon]

It probably shouldn't have been so much a surprise that the Colosseum was jam-packed full of different people- spectators, competitors, representatives, and the like. Dante still felt a bit cramped and out of place in such a throng of individuals, but at least it seemed he wasn't the only one. There was a colorful variety of beings and professions wandering about, gathering towards a wide booth where it seemed signing was taking place, and many of them looked at least as extraordinary as Dante himself, if not more so.

So at least he wasn't too far off, the nephilim figured as he approached the tables. Still, most of these folks were humanoid, if not all entirely human-like. Perhaps, then, it would better not to make his devil half more apparent - if he could even reach it. But maybe it was better without it, to take the opportunity to test his base abilities. Yes, Dante decided, this was fine.

For the most part, he didn't pay much attention to the other people around him. Many different voices rang out in idle chatter and active declarations, but it was all white noise to Dante. He wanted to get in, fight, and win, easy enough. Not the fighting itself, but point being that the Son of Sparda kept his goals relatively simple.

The small cluster of people looking to sign up eventually dispersed enough for Dante to step up to one of the signup spots and stake his claim there. An attendant with long, elvish features and a voice laced with professional fake enthusiasm hailed him as he approached, "Looking to enter the tournament?" In mock pondering, Dante looked off to the side distantly, a hand on his chin in vein of The Thinker.

"Well, I am a Prime," the nephilim matter-of-factually responded, turning his vision back. Without waiting for further response, the lady pointed out one of the sheets, a fresh rectangle of beige parchment with a classical inkwell beside it. A list of scribbled and neat names alike were already dabbed on, leaving but a few spaces left at the bottom.

"Sign up right there. Entry will close soon, and the event will start in a couple days, after the brackets are announced," the elfin attendant declared, but Dante was already writing his name. As she stopped, so did he, and after a moment of actual consideration, scratched out the four letters he had written to register as something else. A moment longer, and beside a scribbled-out patch of ink sat the scratchy cursive signature of 'Tony Redgrave'.

It was best not to use his actual name, Dante decided, at least not for any official records. Slipping the pen back into the inkwell, the lady continued her false smile at Dante, "Alright, then. There is a carnival outside the stadium if you want to relaxation, and stands inside for refreshments. Or, there's a carriage service available if you want to go to nearby Minas Tirith. Just don't stray farther than that, or we can't get messages out to you."

"Right, got it," Dante mumbled out in dismissal of himself, and walked away from the stand to make away for a few others. For some reason, he was feeling awfully claustrophobic in here; for that reason, the Son of Sparda vouched himself to go outside and perhaps observe the carnival some. Maybe he could find some other entertainment to hold over his otherwise lost self.

[Alain the Carnedge]

After ditching his bike at the gate and flying over to Minas Tirith for directions, only to find that the gigantic structure was very hard to miss from the skies, the mercenary soon found himself invisible, floating above the Colosseum and observing the festivities. The people were playing games, buying food and watching others perform magic tricks. Alain would've called the so-called magicians amateurs if he had his old powers, but as he didn't, he instead did the next best thing and ignored them.

He slowly descended, hovering just above the crowd so he could get a better look at any Primes that might be passing by, but the various people around made figuring out who was a prime and who wasn't harder than it had to be. Especially seeing as the crowd wasn't just natives, but men and women from Darkshire, and he assumed others were from Verses he hadn't visited yet. Alain could've sworn he saw an elf or two, but decided it was just his imagination.

The mercenary soon gave up on scouting out the competition before he got to the arena. There were far too many people, and he seemed to have very strange luck; whenever he wasn't looking for a big monster to fight or somebody important to duel, they'd find him instead. Confident in his ability to find trouble, he flew through the grand Colosseum's entrance, resisting the urge to kick somebody in the back of the head for fun.

Alain landed in one of the corners, taking a quick look around for any potential Primes that could see him before he deactivated his invisibility and started to look around. The inside of the Colosseum wasn't quite as crowded as the outside, most likely because the majority of the crowd wanted to enjoy the festivities while they lasted, though a few were waiting, likely hoping they could grab the best seats first. The mercenary wasted no time in looking for where he was supposed to sign up, and as the fairly unremarkable table with a rather bored looking man who looked like he'd want nothing more than to join the carnival had little to nobody in line, he assumed that was it.

He walked over to said table casually, making an effort to not stand out despite his rather unique attire. The gentleman who was supposed to be doing his job, or should have at least making a slight effort to pretend he was, however, tried to look professional as the mercenary approached. Evidently, they weren't aware that he'd already seen them slacking off. But lazy employees weren't his problem.

The gentleman at the table prepared a quill and parchment before Alain had even got there, and had obviously come to the conclusion that he was a Prime. "If you're here to register..." The man pushed the parchment and the quill forward, attempting to speak in the same professional, enthusiastic tone as the others but failing to mask the boredom in his voice. "...then sign right here, please." Alain rolled his eyes and started thinking up an alias, only to remember that he'd already used his actual name for Dante's Abyss, so what did he care?

After signing his name, "Alain Velgr", he pushed the parchment back. "I see you're enjoying your work." He said, before leaving for the carnival, as he had little else to do.

[Schwi Dola]

Desco watched as the scenery went by riding on top of the dragon Ururu had summoned. While she and her clone Hikaru sat rather close, Desco sat apart from them or Okor and Rebecca alone. If Guu or Big Sis were here, Desco would probably be sitting just as close to one of them. That did not phase Desco though as she watched the trees, flowers, and occasionally rock go by. Before she knew ot, Desco had arrived at the tournament grounds.

Desco got off and, having no specific destination, followed Ururu. There was a larger variety of people here than on the road, but still Humans eyed Desco suspiciously. It wasn't just her alien and demonic dress and red eyes, it was also her pointed ears suggesting elf. She did not understand it, but if she looked just slightly more human the locals might not whisper as she passed. The same that had happened when Desco entered Camelot. Ururu and Hikaru were probably oblivious to it as the focus was not directed at them.

As Ururu led on to the sign ups, Desco remembered something. It wasn't much, but it was a memory she had forgotten when she arrived in the Nexus for the first time. On the night of the red moon, Desco and Fuka investigated a rumor they had heard mingling with Demons in Hades. On this night it was said that wishes would be granted, and young ladies had plenty of wishes they wanted granted. This led them to find death reaping the souls of Prinnies with Death's scythe. The sisters were shocked at first, Fuka and Desco didn't think Emizel was so cruel as to go around killing poor defenseless Prinnies. Death Emizel explained that this was the job of Death, which Desco believed right away. These Prinnies paid their sins off so it was time to let their souls reincarnate as humans again.

Before Desco knew it, she was standing in line just as Ururu had finished signing herself up. Desco stepped up next. The tournament person looked annoyed at Desco for some reason. "Just write your name here." "Okay!" Desco quickly drew out her name with neat precision and then turned to see Ururu already skipping away into the crowd. "Wait for Desco!" Desco chased after Ururu, though her feet were slower the crowd slowed her down and let Desco keep sight of her.

As Desco reached Ururu, she saw a food stand and realized that they hadn't eaten since the night before. The stand with a teenage-ish vendor waiting bored for customers had a big pink cotton candy machine and a bunch of rotating hot dogs under a heat lamp. The skin on the cart had prices in gold pieces offering a couple variations of hot dogs and sizes of cotton candy. The whole thing stood out in contrast to the scenery as the machines were out of place in this medieval land. That never stopped merchants before from making a quick buck. Desco tried to nudge Ururu. "Hey look, that looks yummy!" Desco took another look at the sign on the cart for a moment. They needed gold pieces, for a Prime that was easy enough. Desco held a hand over her chest and brought out a handful of Omnilium. She concentrated, and it glowed brightly as she started a summoning to which nearby people started to avoid getting close to her summoning. After several minutes the stuff transformed into a pouch full of coins. "Let's buy some!"

[Bandit With No Name]

As the bloody space marine and the dirty bandit passed through the gate, she was suddenly struck with how odorless her previous environment was by comparison. Even as her eyes adjusted to the new light, she was overwhelmed with new sensations. The smell of grass, of clean, clear air, flowering plants, even the scent of a distant farm was fresh and new. To her, the scent of Camelot would always define it: vegetal and crisp, warm and homey.

As the brightness of the sunlight faded from her eyes, a green, rolling landscape unraveled before her, trees dotting the quaint hills and bundling together into thickets, a gently running creek was somewhere gurgling away. At first, she was so shocked she froze in place, unmoving and unsure of what to do. Slowly, her darting eyes melted from surprise to wonder and she knelt down, pushing her hand into the lush turf, allowing the blades to push up between her fingers.

“Oh my god,” she said, almost subconsciously, “I’ve never seen anything like this.” She searched the ground, seeing the tiny ants scurrying, the layers of twigs and leaves. A dandelion poked up, its bright yellow smiling up at her. “Is this what it’s like everywhere?” she asked, still kneeling on the ground.

The marine shrugged, “Aye?” He shook his head gently and pointed towards a large crowd of people, “I see where we’re meant to go.”

“Alright,” the bandit murmured, barely paying attention, still watching the tiny creatures that scurried over the ground. Planting the hammer back on her shoulder, she grabbed the handle of her laser rifle and moved it back out of the way before standing. She took another deep breath of the fresh air and exhaled, an invigorated look on her face. “Alright, I’m coming.”

Running after the gigantic man, she caught up with his limping stride. “Seriously, this is what the world is like? Why are people always screwing around in the Dunes if there’s all this just waiting for them? Is some sandbox really worth it to them?”

The marine moved onward, his loose, rusting chainmail rattling with each stride, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Sighing, she looked over the hills and across the distant planes, the trailing line of people snaking over the roads and through the valleys. Each of them were wildly different, though most of them sported clothing that was simply made and rarely cleaned. Her limited knowledge of chronology as related technology told her that they seemed antiquated, though there were some amid them that had amazingly beautiful adornments. Others seemed just as out of place as she did, with metallic gear or glowing digital screens held up in front of their faces as they trudged past the serene pastures and wildlife.

“Every one of those people has a story, you know that?” she mused, trying to fill the silence. “Most Primes assume w-“ she caught herself almost identifying, “that Secondaries are just sort of… filler, you know? Faces in the crowd. We don’t count to most of you.” She shook her head, “I mean, they don’t count much.”

“Hm,” the tall man huffed, “I suppose. I suppose others simply don’t notice other people at all.”

The bandit idly spun the hammer on her shoulder, the head twirling back and forth. “I guess. I just don’t see how Primes can be so callous towards Secondaries, but care so much about other Primes. I guess when you make a person, it’s easy to see them as just objects. Fuck, some Secondaries are barely that; their creators didn’t put much thought into their creations so they really are just mindless faces that complete a task. But that’s not everyone, you know? A lot of Secondaries lead rich lives, or hurt, or… whatever, you know? Sure, we are, I mean they are what we make them, but most of the time you can’t help but slip a little humanity in with the meat, you know?”

The bandit stopped talking and the two continued their walk, the tall man offering no reply for a long time. “There are as many stories as there are people,” he spoke with patience. “For as many people as there are, there are just as many battles. Some battles are easier, some more doomed, but it is in the conviction for your task that you find solace. Without purpose, there is nothing.”

She looked up to the battle-worn warrior, noticing the deep gauges in his armor and the chips along the edge of his blade. Her eyes caught on a faded insignia on his sprawling pauldron, barely noticeable for all the rust and scraped paint. “What’s your mission?”

The giant lumbered onward, eyes focused on the horizon.

-----

The throngs of people herded towards the sprawling stadium in droves, the rowdy patrons compacted along the wide roads as they entered the vomitorium. The citizens kept a wide berth of the two armored fighters, if not for his size, then for her spikes.

It was easy to locate the large, welcoming registration table, and a chipper young clerk sat behind it, a tall feather quill in his hand. “Are you two signing up for the melee?” he asked, smoothing back a stray strand from his comb over into place on top of his shiny, bald head.

“I know I am,” the bandit spoke up quickly.

“Very well!” he sang, “And what name shall I put under your entry?”

Frowning the bandit crossed her arms and scoffed, “I don’t need a name.”

“Then what shall I put you under, miss?” he snapped back.

Thinking for a moment, the woman grinned, her gruesome skull-makeup making her look all the more sinister. “The Bandit With No Name.”

[Jak Mar]

Yes, Jak had heard of the tournament ahead. Only the strongest fighters came here.

Jak had killed more people in cold blood and been killed himself both in and out of Dante's Abyss. What even brought him to Dante's abyss in the first place? The search for people to know Jak's name for once. Jak had been a hero in his world, known to all as someone who could take down ANYTHING. with just a little help from his friends. But those innocent times were gone. Dante's Abyss had seen him take out a man named the "Rock" and Alian in cold blood. Jak's thoughts turned cold "In self defense"

The poor excuse for a mercenary felt the air blow against his kilt. Yeah, if self defense meant killing people in cold blood, he could tell himself that. Daxter would give him laughs if he was here.... Dax was annoying, true but he was his best pal and best supporter. "Daxter?!" "Where are you, pal?!"

His thoughts bothered him. The last time he fought, he fought for his friends and allies. Those who supported him. But none of them were here... Torn was back in HQ, Daxter was missing, and it left him with who knows who in the Omniverse now. He'd "bust a few heads" for Daxter, which he was used to being threatened, backstabbed and anything else. Death tournaments were his thing.... at least now it was.

He was a straight line fool for rushing in to prove himself to Victor, Shay and Agnus that he was nothing more then dust in the wind. He was struggling to prove to himself that he wasn't that. He wasn't one to shake off things so easy. He held grudges and grudges would help him fight. Whereever Daxter was, he hoped to hell Daxter would get his ass here, and watch him. Torn better hear of this too.

Jak covered his mouth with his hankerchief and moved toward Camelot with one thing in mind: to sign up for the tournament.

A few hushed whispers were heard as Jak walked by, as he ignored the sites and walked up to the registration table.

The person at the table handed Jak a quill pen and paper "You want to sign up for the tournament?"

Jak nodded as he sighed and he nodded and placed "Jak" on the paper.

After that was done, Jak took the time to cross his arms and look somewhat a little more menacing.

[Tartaros]

As the bandit meandered through the Colosseum entrance and into the crowds, the attendee looked up towards Tartaros. "And you?"

Still more focused on the ache in his shoulder than anything else, the wanderer responded. "Oh? Yes, yes..."

Still keeping his salesman-like grin, the attendee passed a long roll of parchments and an ink-dipped quill to the large man. "Wonderful! Just sign on the dotted line, number sixteen."

Fumbling slightly with the quill, Tartaros managed to scribble his name onto the scroll before slowly sliding it back onto the wooden stand. "I must apologize for the handwriting. Not used one of these in a while."

"No problem", the balding man behind the counter responded, chuckling slightly, "as long as it's legible..."

Just as Tartaros was turning towards the entrance, the man glanced towards his shoulder, noticing the small figure sitting on his shoulder. Coughing, the attendant spoke, "Excuse me sir, but your... friend here must pay an entrance fee."

Sighing, the Astartes turned back. "Right, right. How much?"

"Ten gold coins, sir."

Muttering slightly, Tartaros grabbed the swirling sphere from underneath his cloak, gripping it tightly. Mumbling, "Just a moment...", before closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he let his hand cover the ball of light in its entirety, letting his subconscious take hold. Waking some moments later, the Astartes found a small bag of coins in his hand. Letting a handful of coins drop onto the counter, he turned towards the living puppet on his shoulder. "Get yourself a nice seat, this should be interesting. And before I forget, if I lose, wait for me in that damned white room, alright?"

The denim-clad puppet nodded, hopping off the marine's shoulder and taking a ticket from the still-smiling clerk.

Sweeping his loose comb-over back over his balding head, the clerk turned towards Tartaros again. Pointing towards the entrance, he said, "Enjoy the fair. There'll be an announcement in a few hours."

Smiling through his bandages and nodding at the clerk, the Astartes limped into the crowds. Hopefully there was a blacksmith around...

[Yu Kanda]

"Over there ! there it is !" Black star shouted from on top of the carriage. Kanda took the effort to stick his head outside the window, immediately his long blue hair was caught in the wind and waved behind him. The carriage had a greater speed then he would initially would have guessed. The wind pressing against his eyes made it difficult to see until they adjusted to the pressure. Up ahead he saw the large building filling up the landscape. It was impressive to say the least even at this distance.

"Stop the carriage nearby, we will walk the last bit on foot. I don't want to draw any attention to ourselves." Kanda shouted towards Birgitta, who was driving.
"If you don't want to draw any attention to us you might want to calm him down." The driver referred to the human foghorn shouting on the top of his lungs. Surely he was enthusiastic but also very loud, something Kanda could do without.

"Keep it down up there or you can walk, God-moron."

Black star stopped his enthusiastic shout outs and started expressing his energy towards Kanda. " Who are you calling a God-moron ?! You should be grateful i chose you people to escort me to this tournament, where my greatness will reach the rest of the Omniverse." He proudly claimed.

The exorcist couldn't do much more than sigh and return to his seat, leaving the boy talking on the roof. He cancelled out the noise as he started planning his next moves, Black star became a background noise which could easily be ignored.

'If what Birgitta said is true, and this worlds does have demons I have to be prepared. I don't know why they would gather at a event like this but we should find out very soon' Kanda's hand moved over his black sleeve with silver linings. The exorcist outfit was especially designed for situations like this. They stick out in the crowd so they are walking targets for Akuma, this way they will reveal themselves. Attack before getting attacked is usually a demon's motto. The question remained, if demons exist within the Omniverse, do they know of exorcists or is he the first anti-demon warrior to walk the verse.

The carriage started to slow down until it came to a stop.

"I think we are close enough" Birgitta said right before she climbed down from the driver's seat. Black Star however couldn't sit still for another second and jumped down from the carriage roof.

"Yahoo ! I will meet you there !" With those words the duo saw Black star running off towards the large building. Youth still had a grasp on him.

"Shall we get going as well?" The girl asked as she turned towards where Kanda was standing a moment ago, only to see him already walking as well with no

intention of waiting for her. " You jerk ! wait for me!" she yelled as she started running to catch up to him.

***

It was a longer walk than he anticipated but he finally reached it. The crowd at the fair was rather impressive, he didn't expect this many people to be here nor the spectacle that it held. His eyes were alert and he looked around him taking in everything he saw. There were creatures here he never saw before, but instead of people running away from them, they act as if it was a normal every day sight. This confused Kanda, are they Demons ? or just an entirely different species. His hand rested on top of his sword, like a true warrior , ready to react at any moment.

"Signups are over there Kanda." Birgitta pointed a little further in the crowd.

"Signups ? do you really expect me to partake in this event"

"Well, you wanted to find out if there are so called akuma here, why not be in the centre of attention."

Even though he hated to admit it, she had a point. If he were to expose himself as a demon-slayer within the verse the effect could be just what he wanted, this would also give him a great chance to see how his innocence has grown ever since he got here.

The exorcist walked up to the registration desk and stared at the man sitting, waiting for something to happen.

"Can i help you ?" The seated man said.

"I wish to partake in the fights."

" Very well, sign here and follow the instructions as soon as the time comes." The man handed over an ink drenched quill and a piece of paper with several names on it. Kanda grabbed the quill and wrote 'Kanda' as his competitors name.

"Kanda hm? Well, best of luck to you Kanda, you are going to need it. For now, try and enjoy the fair, it will all start soon."

The ominous tone the man had did not sit well with the exorcist. He simply nodded and turned away, all he could do now is observe and wait.