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Description: Unlike last year, the stone platform has been removed, making the entire ring nothing but a sandy ground. A twenty foot wall surrounds the ring to protect the audience in this open ceiling stadium.

Field Measurements:
Ring: 70 yard diameter

Ten Count Boundary: As soon as a fighter enters the bleachers, the count begins. The flying rule remains, as well.

His voice entered the arena even before he did.

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwnnnnnnn!!!"

Benjamin had just had a rough but enjoyable night, and he hadn't got the recommended eight hours. So his opponent must forgive him if he was a bit more cranky than usual. And more drowsy too, as he took to a slow waltz rather than a run as he entered the arena.

Ben dressed simply yet stylish, using the classical white on black color scheme. Long black gloves comforted his forearms, white slack adorned his legs, black boots were strapped to his feet, and a black tee stretched across a chest too big for his pecs. The balance between light and dark kept steady by the light cream of his uncovered skin.

His armaments were equally simple: a pair of gauntlets that reached from elbow to knuckles, a spiked buckler held deftly in his left hand and a arming sword rested across his shoulders, kept buoyant by his right. Whether that was the extent of the weapons he had brought to bear had yet to be seen but it was probable that another talent or equipment was hidden up a sleeve.

All that metal clanked softly against his form as he continued his waltz straight towards the stands instead of his opponent. And for a moment the crowd hung silent, surprised and amused at this turn of events. And that silence hung for a moment more as they waited for an explanation.

"...."

Ben raised his hand towards the heaven.

"...."

The silence grew even longer.

"...water..."

Silence was joined by confusion until....

"BENJAMIN ROCKS!"

And one of his few fans tossed the tired contender some water.

Twist. Splash.

With one quick flick of his wrist, both his throat and head were wet forcing Ben back into wakefulness.

"Aaaahhh...."

And then and only then finally Ben would proceed towards his opponent so the fight could begin some time. It seemed that this man was but an after thought to the blond, but then again the peasants always were.

A bit under the weather and a bit tired Benjamin was, but sick he was not. And with his mind and body made more alert by the shock of cold water, he was more sure of himself than before. Still a bit off, but enough to dehabilitate himself.

They both moved in towards one another, making small movements to prepare themselves for the battle to come. As his opponent revealed a fan and katana, he responded by bring him sword down from his shoulders and steadying his buckler. His left hand up in a boxer's grip around the single handle of his spiked defense and his right hand (and side) extended forward towards his approaching foe.

The distance closed at a steady pace and finally they stood face to face, so they could size each other up. Ben took note of the fact that he had a few inches on his opponent though he was a bit less stocky. He greeted Kuroha with the aura of arrogance he extended to all his foes, servants and people of lower status than himself.

"Yes, luck is something you will need today."

Cliche but effective. There was a time for niceties, but this was not one of them.

His opponent waved at him with his fan, blowing a bit more than the normal wind and sand said wind picked up in Benjamin's direction. So Ben lifted up his defense a little higher for a moment, to prevent any particles from preventing any blindness or irritation. And then as quick as he brought the buckler up, he brought it back down to see a vastly different sight than he had been seeing a second ago.

Now sand was building around his opponent, tossed around by a swirl of wind that could only be coming from that strange fan. At the moment it wasn't doing anything to him but he figured it he just left it alone, his foe would start sending it his way. So he didn't wait around to see what would happen, he didn't start sitting back and building energy but instead charged forward letting his adrenaline and focus start the slow build of energy within his body as he moved into action.

He took a step forward on his right foot, bending his knees as he lunged towards his opponent to both close the distance and gain force for impact. His target was the opponents fan and the most probably source of mayhem to come in the next few moments. If successful in piercing the fan, he's continue his slice down and to the outside and if not he'd at least find out how tough this fan was. Either way, his eyes, now shining a bright blue would glower at his opponent.

"s**t!"

Nothing else to say when you charged face first into a Tornado fan being wielded by a guy chanting some Japanese mumbo jumbo. Nothing else to do but go along for a bumpy ride and hope that the shield held in front of you helped buffered the damage. So hope he did, as his blade was ripped from his hand by the gale force winds as he was picked off his feet and sent spiraling towards the nearest arena wall. But hoping was not all he did.

To any who could see what was going on, a group that contained only Benjamin and eagle-eyed spectators, his buckler would give a brilliant blue hue was a second before said hue and the energy it foretold was released a second later. Only a second or two was given for energy to build because at 150+ miles per hour impact came quickly, as only a few passed before Ben hit into the wall face first. Face first but not unconscious as one would expect.

For that feat thank that 70 yard distance to far wall, the spinning nature of a gust of wind created by toque involved in snapping the fan, and the burst of energy released from Benji's shield. That energy, a meld of elemental and concussive power would soften up the wall before impact as well as create an opposite force to kill his speed. All in all, it could be said that the energy would break his fall and all him to crash into the wall painfully but with at least some of his whits still with him.

And there he would stay, for a moment, good old Benji stuck in a crater in the wall that resembled more of a sphere than his body giving his opponent a hint that things went a bit differently than planned. Then once that brief moment passed, his body would peel back from the wall and land on the floor. His piercing blue eyes, now lacking their luster, were peeled upward to observe a blurry dot in the distance as he mumbled incoherently to himself. Something along the lines of...

"Why is the sky green?"

Ben shook his head, shaking away the cobwebs or he began to recognize what was going on once more. And surprisingly enough, there was nobody standing over him with a sword or at least headed his way. Most of time when he got the air knocked out of him and a few screws came loose, he came to with someone barring down on him. This change was both strange and mysterious, which made him both thankful and angry at the same time.

Seemed like someone was taking pity on him and pity was something he was not used to receiving but rather doling out. Since the wealthy tended to do that from time to time as a PR measure and out of spite for the lower classes. So to be pitied and thus seen as someone deserving such a base thing as pity, it was a blow to his ego. A blow that had him seething like a pot of water left on the stove for too long.

He rose back to his feet and walked over to his sword, tracing the ring with his head tilted towards his opponent. He listened to his words as he walked to retrieve his sword, taking the words with a grain of salt, those which he heard anyway. Something about being nice and not being nice, something that just added to the fire burning through him. Fire that set his eyes ablaze, glowering a blue that extended even onto the white of his eyes.

"Your patience was not required, I could have done fine without it."

His words came off as a bit of snarl, his upper lip raising and his nose pinching up as he spoke, his blade now in hand but downward and his feet continuing to keep him on a circular path albeit one which now resembled a spiral as it brought him closer and closer with each turn.

His foe charged, taking a a succession of steps, which held such a fervor and abruptness that caused a momentary pause in Ben's steps. A moment frozen not out of fear but of preparation, as he prepared to meet the force head on instead of trying to avoid it. A flick of his wrist twisted the shield horizontally along its axis so that it was now parallel with the outside of his forearm, which was held at a slant, even as energy was building around and through the piece of metal.

Then as the two handed lash came down like thunder, it would ricochet against his buckler the angle at which the shield was held serving to direct the strike outwards and away from Ben's body. His arm pulled in with the blow to diffuse some of the force even as a wave of energy grew outward from the shield. This wave of energy, a bluish sphere of both electric and concussive force that spread off surface of the buckler, would serve a two-fold purpose. First, the concussive force would repel the sword away from Benjamin, a few feet at most seeing as it was a lower power chaotic energy assault, enough to give Ben some breathing room and open up his opponent who had put all of his arms in one basket. Secondly, the electric aspect would transfer to and travel down the blade even as it was cast off, continuing into his opponent unless otherwise impeded, and give him a low level shock that would cause him to seize up his muscles for but a moment or two.

A moment or two that Benjamin would capitalize on, as he swiveled his body to his left to carve a diagonal slash that aimed to cut a gash into Kuroha's left armpit and dig into all the nerve endings held within.

There was no lunge, as Benjamin's slash drew power from firm footing and good hip rotation. Therefore there was no big opening on any side only an almost profile torso as Ben's followed through with his missed attack, his sword coming to stop high off to his left.

So when Kuroha dashed back in, there was both ample time and space to drag his weapon back through its previous path and lop his head off. But this was a non-lethal tournament and so Benji opted to turn his blade as he did the above, allowing the flat of his blade to strike Kuroha roughly in the head. Hopefully diverting his off to Ben's right and off track for any sort of tackle.

But that was not all, Benjamin wasn't sure the strike would have the desired effect and so even as he drew back his blade to the right, he brought up his buckler in such away that both arms moved in tandem linked once again by the motion of his hips. His intent? To drive his fist and the buckler held within into his foe's shoulder, the spiky aspect of his spiked buckler digging into flesh and muscle. It would give him some control of his opponent's direction and hopefully this grip in addition to the force of his strike would do what one strike could not and knock Kuroha off course.

In the most painful way possible, of course.

((Sorry for the wait today and the rest of this week, rough week at work. Busy season and all. ))