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Description: To debut the opening of the new Beach Selena, which sits on the western coast of the GTB plot of land, Midus has decided to host the second round of the tournament in this lovely place. The sun is shining brightly as the warm breeze blows gentle waves along the clear crystal waters. Boats, surfers, and ski boats trail the waters as a large crowd of spectators gather around a single large wooden platform situated out in the middle of the water. This platform will serve as the fighting ground for both fighters as they are transported out here, either via boat or by their own creative method. The platform itself is made of wood, but contains a solid slab of stone underneath it that is four feet tall meant to keep the platform from being destroyed. Though you may think you can destroy rock with your attacks, this stone is extra tough, meaning knocking chunks out of it will be your only capability, so don't expect to punch any holes through it.

Field Measurements: The platform is a square shape, with the distance measured from one side to the other merely 15 yards, which equates to 45 feet. You won't be able to run around this thing as freely as the last arena. The platform is raised a foot above water, so if you fall off, you can still simply climb back on. The platform is rooted underneath with a four pillars of the same stone at each corner, so it will always remain stationary. The pillars are ten feet long each (and quite wide), touching the sandy floor underneath.

Ten Count Boundary: Falling into the water begins the ten count. If the other fighter goes into the water, too, or makes contact with the fighter in count-out in any way, the count resets. This does not apply if both fighters are in the water. Only when a fighter has both feet on the platform does the count stop for them.

The flying rule remains in effect.

Other Penalties: Do not attack spectators or attempt to destroy the platform's rooting underwater. Doing so will result in a DQ.

Fight Ends: On July 10th, at 9 AM Central.

An uproar. Those able to spectate this round would likely find themselves in complete shock, as a certain [Round I] fighter, defeated, was now pushing his wooden canoe off the small coast towards his destination. Casually rowing this boat via a smooth wooden oar, [Omi Barsait] was grinning practically ear to ear. His side of the boat was facing inland, which meant the opposite carrying his passenger.. held the fighter, in towards battle.

"I dun' mind assisting. As we discussed, I have .. interests, before this competition ends. Still, my ambition is incubating for now, so more importantly: do try to fight your best, eh? That fellow is strong. I've only seen him but once and he proved that more than well enough." Booming words emitting from his wild teeth, this had to be the most unusual sight in the tournament. The wild and famous [Serpentine Manipulation Artist], rather than gone on his own ventures, was rowing another competitor and a succubus at that towards the stage!

Crash! Rosalyn's tip of the boat would nudge violently against the fight platform. The boat creaked and moaned along the unsteady waves of water, waves splashing upward as the air lashed across them with moisture. So serene. Unfortunately, Omi was not a fighter this day, as much as the sea beckoned to him. "Do show me something interesting, Rosalyn."

Away from the platform he would row, upon her dismount. What was this fellow planning? Something about him seemed unusually energetic, as though he were executing a game-winning tactic in a battle unseen. Too eager, was that toothy grin.

So it seemed, the plot thickened.

A few minutes after his introduction to the crowd his opponent and her new servant crashed onto the platform. A bit of a difference from the way he came aboard with a simple kayak and then roar of a few here and there fans. In the distance were a few Gilmore Girl watching housewives all rooting for their favorite badass babe, then someone had the audacity to yell very loudly that Omi Barsait was the one rowing the woman. It instantly clicked. Kenji looked over at the first round loser with a wide grin.

"Omi, you lost one match. Now you're ferrying bitches." He said pointing over to the serpent user. It was rather amusing to see the guy carting around a lesser known fighter to her second round match while being treated like Chicken George.

It didn't take long for him to lose interest in Omi. He wasn't there to duke it out with him. He was there to have a battle of wits and imagination with the slim and sexy Rosalyn. She was one hoyty toyty b***h though. He wasn't aware that she had been the one who was made Elvis when he died. She had this err of superiority that he hadn't noticed while watching her previous fight. Even though she had some good moves and had won her match she hardly had any reason to act as if she was the new Deitric.

The woman's sexy factor began to decline to his surprise. Yeah, if the two had met at a Motel 6 he could beat that p***y up, but something about how she was carrying herself at the moment was just pissing him off a tad. That was always a problem for Kenji. People always seemed to downplay his abilities and act as though he was an unimportant worm due to his background and racial features. If they just knew what he had accomplished in the past five years more people would be cheering his name out of the sheer fear of him sticking his c**k through all their asses just to feel the tip eviscerate their innards. That was what he really wanted to do to Rosalyn at the moment. Flip her over on his kayak and show her what it felt like to be a victim.

"What a disappointment, when do I finally get to meet a real man?" She mocked.

From the other side of the ring Kenji just smiled as he slowly twirled his sword in his hand. That was an obvious pre thought up insult to go along with her cool and mean persona. This b***h needed a bowl of ice cream, weed and a box set of The Golden Girls to get real or something that involved surgery to get that giant cob out of her a**.

"Hey, hey wait a minute." He said slinging his shirt over his shoulders. Clumps of sand fell to the ground as he did so. "When did Kurama get tits?" The fast food employee so graciously pointed out the slight similarities between the two. He continued to stand there as he activated some of his magic stones; four yellow and four red. They were pressed against his legs. Their manufactured power seeped into his pores as they illuminated their respected colors. A slight tingly sensation could be felt in his fingertips as he gained the manipulation of fire and earth.

The swordsman in beachwear got into his middle guard stance with his sword out in front of him. It was the most simple of positions, and one that he used more or less exclusively. Kenji wasn't too keen on dumbly charging the lady as if his name changed to The Vanguard Beast, so he decided to stick with a more Edward Queensborough approach. He would begin advancing to his foe at a steady, but not too slow of a pace. Contrary to what the snob wanted to believe he wasn't about theatrics, and she could stare at his eyes all day. His were safe from harmful UV rays behind his sunglasses.

Last time he had seen a woman wield a whip like that at him was... wait that was ******** Josie. A sudden flush of anger overtook him as he remembered one of the last times he had intercourse with the woman who had made him a man and then crushed his manhood with her stiletto when she left him for Ertai. She was the main reason he had joined this fiasco of a fighting tournament. He didn't exactly have the funds to gather up a D-Day assault to storm Vexa, so he was hoping that if he could muster what it took to defeat tools like The Vanguard Beast and Rosalyn he could earn extra gold and fame to aid him on his future war with a deity and the c**t he used to love.

There weren't took many times he could remember going into a fight feeling like a mad man with his ears ready to steam and his eyes about to pop in his head. Deep down in his gut, where he hid his childhood horror and other dark things, was where he kept, locked and buried away, the memory of Josie. The more he continued with this match the more his friendly make up of smiles and muscle flexes began to corrode like acid on teeth. Rosalyn acted just like her. As if he was somehow beneath her, and that was enough to send him into a fury. His opponent couldn't tell unless she was an expert, but he was no longer exhuming the same cheesy charm he had put on for his tweeny fans.

SNAP!! went her whip.

He noticed how she brought her arm back and then in front of her to maneuver her weapon. From what he could tell the length of that thing was about five or six feet, and his flamberge was about the same. That eliminated that both from having a range advantage... sort of. There was one thing he knew he had over her for the most part; steel > animal hide. As the growing hatred he had for the woman reached his throat he had reached a distance of about eight feet from her.

CRACKLE!!!

and

As soon as the next whip strike broke the crisp air he would have already stepped in about a foot closer with his right leg and simultaneously swung his massive blade horizontally from his right to his left when the woman's arm was the furtherest out it would be aiming for the central ridge to hit the woman's wrist/forearm area to literally cleave it off like warm, breakfast butter.

"Baby, please." He exclaimed as his blade swooped through a big pocket of nothing. He would take back the sword and get into his mid guard stance once more.

b***h was going to be in a world of s**t if her strategy was to ballet dance her little self around this platform as if she was some kind of scared, whip wielding Darla. It wasn't anything new for him to have to perform moves right after another until one hit however. Unluckily for Rosalyn her opponent was quite used to having to play dodge ball with his fellow competitors.

The long, lavish whip glided through the air like a flag in the wind as she oh so graciously brought it back around. It was very apparent that he was going to get hit if he continued to press forward, and he knew that. The West wasn't won without any bloodshed.

Fighter #7 pressed forward stepping with his left leg just as Rosalyn was doing her PR move to sell her book How to Beat Your Man like He was Jesus as the animal hide came whistling like a whiffle ball slicing through the cool, ocean breezes leaving them gutted and smelly. At the exact same time as the whip was about to strike his beautiful face he would stab with his previously mentioned left step at the woman's right armpit/shoulder area. This would disarm her from using her... arm as the big chunk of Gaian steel would tear through her flesh and bone and tendons as if it was a prong on a fork holding a steak in place.

"Don't go." He said with a smile.

Just as her performed his stab the whip would

POP!

against his tan face.

He cringed realizing the strength of this attack being far worse than what he was used to taking when he was bound and gagged and being beaten during foreplay fun with the Vexa c**t. He wasn't quite sure of what it was, but it also had this fiery after taste as flames spewed out from the weapon cooking his face. Blood, skin and zits were destroyed and tossed up into little bits as he pressed forward with his assault.

A lone fan girl fainted at the sight.

The moment his special passenger departed the shaky boat Barsait demonstrated surprising competence in maneuvering amidst the sea of battle, he had already begun returning towards inland. The beautiful sheen of the fiery sun upon sparkling blue water was almost as mesmerizing as a dance of combat between a rugged soul and a succubus true, yet it was the latter Omi wished to concern himself with and not the former for a time. Of course, spectators that realized who this was, weren't having it.

Fans, dissenters, those disappointed with his first round loss, those convinced it was trickery set by the tournament administration, Robyn fans yelling in zealous adoration or rage, screams of passion in every way were harming the man's sensitive ears as they attempted to keep the gentle ebbing flow of the waters beneath him in mind. So noisy. Enough, the mercenary felt no interest in letting them bother him, instead happily ripping the oar out of the blue waters with a loud splash before letting it drop out of his left hand and into the boat's interior, far shy of land to the dismay of what crowd became distracted with him.

Stretching his legs out and laying back proper, Omi Barsait would watch this fight with both hands, one dry and one wet, folded calmly under his head. It was truly a relaxing experience, and would be many times amplified were it not for all the yells behind him a ways yet and the intensity of the combat ahead. Still, enjoyable. Simple pleasures always were the best.

"Ah.. that Rosalyn's a curious one. Still, whether her aid is truly benevolent or self-serving is completely irrelevant, it will unmake my opposition. Piece by precious piece does my influence began to weave together true; perhaps, it was a blessing from whatever gods there be that I lost my first round this year, haha!" All that was vocalized was a chuckle. Strangely genuine rather than malicious, the grin set upon this man's face in the shine of the overhead light was radiant. Coming ahead were dark times.

Basking in the glow of righteous combat by comparison, was a real blessing.

Kenji was a very persistent man. He definitely came off as the type who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. While this may had been exciting for the crowd who had been cheering at his very aggressive approach, it was more of a pain for Rosalyn. Kenji wasn't giving her a chance to make much progress with flipping their positions on the stage. She had only made a little progress towards where she wanted to be before Kenji was moving himself in a position to cut her off again. She was fairly certain now that he was trying to trap her by keeping the pressure on, and the more she tried to evade him the more it gave him the opportunity to just keep pressing.

With that in mind, there was a definite need for a change in strategy, but once again Rosalyn had to wait for the appropriate opening. Kenji's incoming attack would take priority first. The change in stance telegraphed what the swordsman was planning for Rosalyn. There were only so many ways he could had attack from such a position. She kept on moving, and her eyes caught his step forward. As he swung the massive blade down, Rosalyn's left foot took a wide step out and forward. This allowed her to effectively evade the blade and to leave it behind her. Evading the blade was a good thing, it presented Rosalyn with the opportunity that she had wanted.

The succubus was going to do the unexpected. She was going to drop the wall she had crafted around her. Her right arm stopped commanding the whip as it lowered to the side of her body and her wrist twisted so that the whip's shot was held in front of her. With out a pause Rosalyn's feet carried her down the outside of Kenji's blade and then his arms. No longer was she moving like fine silk. She moved as if she had real motive. She moved as if she were going to take this man down.

Her stride quickly brought her down the length of his blade and then to his arms. Her impressive speed allowing her to clear the danger of his blade near instantly. She came closer to his body, closing the distance in no time. As came closer she positioned the right arm slightly above her head and it was held there, as if she were going to swing the lead shot somewhere along his head or upper body. Maybe Kenji would look at her face instead of her weapon, maybe he would notice the arrogant smirk across her lips and her cool narrowed eyes. Then there was the left hand, it remained poised below the level of her bust at the side of her trunk. The fingers curled in a light and flexible first. During the very brief period that she had advanced she increased the Ku that flowed to the left hand to an even greater intensity.

[ Hot Touch Degree - 3 ]

Kenji's step back wasn't going to change anything. It only provided a negligible distance between the two. It didn't require any quick amendments to her plan, Rosalyn just kept on pressing forward. However, the cloud of sand that was suddenly sent flying at her face was something she did not expect. Feeling the fine grains of soil hit and roll off her cheeks caused her eyes to shut reflexively in an attempt to prevent any of the foreign particles from entering. This defensive measure was met with only marginal success at best. Even so, that wasn't going to be enough to stop Rosalyn.

Her eyes near immediately opened and they both watered. Her right eye didn't appear to have any sand in it, but that wasn't entirely true for the left. Her vision was slightly blurry from the tearing and the eye itched. It was very tempting for her to try to rub the dirt out, but Rosalyn fought the urge. Her hands remained in their positions and she continued on virtually unaffected. She was so close already when Kenji made his attack. He was virtually in grasping range so she didn't need a very clear image to determine his position from this minuscule distance that separated them. She wanted in closer, she wanted to negate whatever ability he had to use that sword effectively. So she had no reason to stop, her target wasn't going to be moving very far with her gunning straight for him at such a close range .

By the time Kenji had lifted his arms to hold his sword at high guard, Rosalyn was practically on top his body. The right arm that appeared as if it were going to strike made its move, though maybe not in a way that spectators or even Kenji might had expected. Instead of attempting to strike him with the lead shot at the end of the whip, her arm snaked its way in between Kenji's raised left arm and head. She was attempting to hook her arm around his shoulder, and if successful, she would pull her body in close to him. like if she were trying to cling to him. Like the damsel in distress hanging on to the hero as he would lift them to safety, she attached herself to him and pressed her body into his.

What may not have been immediately apparent was the movement of her sneaky left hand. It remained low and simultaneously to her pulling their bodies into each other it searched for the waist band of Kenji's shorts. She didn't need to look with her eyes for this, she was very familiar with this region of the body after all. Her chin tilted up, her twitching eyes directed at Kenji's somewhat blurry face. It should had been easy for him to see that she was not very amused with having sand thrown at her. The swordsman may be able to feel the heat radiating from her left hand, perhaps even feel the hand briefly brush against his lower abdomen as the thumb tugged on his trunks.

"Don't enjoy this too much."

The succubus taunted as her left hand quickly dived into his shorts, searching and quickly finding what it was looking for. Upon feeling his groin her fingers cupped him and held him tightly, squeezing as if she were trying to crush his privates. While this in itself may be uncomfortable for most men, it could not compare to what else Kenji should be feeling at this point. The energy that flowed through her hand created a very intense heat. Her hand was hot to the touch, about as hot as a stove range set to its highest temperature. Very brief exposure to such temperatures could cause minor but painful burns to any area, but the prolonged exposure she was attempting...the damage may be unimaginable. Castrating the swordsman may actually had been preferable to the torture the succubus was subjecting him to.

[ Hot Touch Degree - 3 ]