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A hand dropped, two men screamed at each other, and they came together, limbs blurring as they struck and blocked and parried and countered. It was an amazing display of physicality, martial prowess, and controlled fury. Controlled, because when the man in the blue robe stuck the flat of his hand into the neck of the man in the orange robe, they both froze. The referee shouted, the men separated and bowed, and a few of the more knowledgeable spectators applauded. Tona Baudin was one of them. She had been especially interested in the arm-lock the tai chi master had attempted, and the way the snake-style specialist had slipped out of it almost bonelessly. Her eyes glittered in anticipation as she looked at the next few fights coming up on the docket. She hadn't even know this martial arts tournament existed a month ago, until her friend Mali mentioned that she was going to watch. In just a couple of weeks though, the young archer had become obsessed with the idea. A place where she could see all sorts of fighting styles on display, measured against each other? It was a thrilling notion to her, and she had waited impatiently for it. Tona wasn't happy that she was restricted to sitting in the bleachers, but registration had closed months ago. She had eventually, reluctantly, agreed that her own style was too wilde and improvisational to be judged in formal competition, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy what she was seeing.This was her Super Bowl, her World Cup, her PAX, all rolled into on, and Tona was determined to take in as much as she could.

For rolls and suchlike that happen in this thread.