Victory Conditions: Achieved by pinfall, which can take place anywhere in the location. No countout or disqualification. Hentai permitted but is not accepted to obtain victory.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The warm night air clung to Safiyah Neferet’s bronze skin, beads of sweat forming at her collarbone as she stood in the shadows of the grandiose stage that awaited her. The arena—if one could even call it that—was unlike anything she had ever fought in before. Bathed in the glow of golden torchlight and framed by towering palm trees, a grand wrestling ring stood atop an opulent stone platform, surrounded by shimmering pools of crimson wine. Luxurious cabanas draped in rich violet silk lined the edges, their velvety curtains swaying with the evening breeze. A pyramid loomed in the distance, a monument to glory and conquest, while obelisks adorned with ancient hieroglyphs cast long shadows over the battlefield. At the heart of this oasis of indulgence lies the squared circle—its mat pristine, yet soon to be marked by the struggle of two warriors.
Yet, despite the grandeur, a lingering weight sat on her chest. Her last match had been a humiliation—Cleo Hulbury had stripped her of not only victory but of dignity, parading her defeat like a trophy. The sting of that loss still burned, but here she was, standing on the precipice of redemption. This match was her chance to erase the shame, to reclaim the name of the Azure Cobra.
And her opponent? None other than Gwendolyn DuPont Bettencourt—the so-called Imperial Rose. The embodiment of arrogance wrapped in silk and gold, a woman who dripped with entitlement as though it were her birthright. Safiyah had watched her matches, seen the way she wielded sharp cunning and cruelty like a sharpened blade, breaking opponents in both body and spirit. But tonight, it was different. This was no pristine ballroom where Gwendolyn could waltz to victory; this was a battlefield where every strike would leave a mark, where every hold had the power to end the fight.
The Falls Count Anywhere stipulation played into Safiyah’s hands. No ropes for Gwendolyn to cower behind, no referee to break a hold at her whim. If Safiyah wanted to pin her in the shallows of the wine-filled pool, she could. If she wanted to drag her across the stone and make her beg, she could.
She rolled her shoulders, exhaling sharply. Beneath her confidence, there was doubt—unshakable, crawling under her skin like a curse. But that doubt wouldn’t serve her now. Safiyah clenched her fists, her mismatched eyes burning with resolve. This was her night. And she would not—could not—let it slip through her fingers.
Attire

Theme
The sapphire and gold of the bikini gleam beneath the torches, the toned frame accentuated with every deliberate stride. Barefoot, the Azure Cobra embraced the coolness of the marble floor, feeling every grain against her skin as she slithers into the ring with the grace befitting of the serpentine nickname. The emblem of an ancient eye gleams on her chest, a symbol of watchful resilience. Safiyah’s heterochromatic gaze sweeps across the arena—one eye burning gold like the desert sun, the other deep blue like the Nile under the moonlight.
As far as she is concerned, this is her domain. And she’s not about to let another coloniser take it all away.