The sun sparkled overhead as a bright, bustling crowd of creatures watched with wide eyes. In the center, Rocket, with his wing-like horns and goggles firmly secured over his eyes, bounces on his feet like a spring. His prosthetic hand fumbles as he waves enthusiastically, his other leg twitching with energy.

Sword stands tall and imperious, a regal figure with his metallic pauldron glimmering. "Rocket," he intones with a commanding presence, "do try to exhibit a semblance of decorum." His voice is smooth as silk, yet loud enough to draw Rocket's attention, even amid the chaos.

Before Rocket can fully respond, Sci-Fi Sword adjusts his futuristic red nanite glasses, his appearance mature yet welcoming. "Indeed, my dear Rocket, perhaps we could divert some of this exuberance into a more structured competition?" he suggests politely, glancing knowingly at the raucous crowd.

Suddenly, Marshmallow Sword, with his soft, squishy form, bounces beside Rocket, nearly engulfing him in a fluffy hug. "CuTiE! LeT's PlAy! PoKe, pOkE, pRooOod! HeEheE!" His voice is warbled yet filled with childlike excitement. Each poke feels like a gentle nudge but rapidly turns into a full-fledged tickle fight. Rocket erupts into fits of laughter, struggling to catch his breath.

Observing from the sidelines, Follower Sword flaps his elegant wings, his purple horns glinting in the light. He speaks softly—almost reverently. "Might we perhaps allow Rocket a moment of respite?" His white eyes glimmer with an ethereal wisdom, yet only the faintest hint of a smirk dances on his lips as he watches the playful chaos unfold.