Round 1 Fight 15 Part 1

Hanioc: It isn’t often we get an archetypical battle between the forces of light and darkness here at the Tournament of Pleasure. Tonight, however, we have just that for all of your reading pleasure.

Tik Tik: Right Right! Fight between hero friend Cynwrig and evil villain Ra’lys!

Hanioc: In the realms of mortals, the concepts of “hero” and “villain” are petty notions. To the celestials, there are only mortals who live as the gods intend and those who disobey.

T: Say every villain is hero of their own story. Seem many people love Ra’lys!

H: That’s probably because of her hypnosis and illusion powers. She’s hoping to use them against her opponent and those watching. Let’s see how it goes!

Cynwrig buzzes into the small arena, the bug’s wings folding back in under his shell. The buzzing echoes  against the void. “I know you’re here, foul villain. I’ll defeat you and make sure you don’t use the prestige of this Tournament to further your foul goals, whatever they may be.”

The first things he sees in response to his challenge are the large, domineering eyes. Rings of magical trance-inducing power thrum through those all-seeing, all-knowing orbs. “Oh, is that so? And what exactly are you going to do to me, little bug?”

Cynwrig cannot avert his gaze, so instead, he leaps at Ra’lys with his pummeling fists firing away in a barrage aimed directly. The vision disappears into the darkness once he makes contact, leaving him open for retaliation. 

The cobra queen of the spires  rests one hand upon her hip, swaying back and forth and humming a little tune. “Not good enough,” she teases. “No one who just rushes in blindly will ever catch me!”

“I’ll show you!” Cynwrig begins, winding up another punch, but falters when he feels the flicker of a tongue against the back of his antenna.

“Show me what?” Ra’lys says from behind him. Arms wrap around his body, and naked breasts press against his back. “Show me that you’re not in control?”

A third Ra’lys saunters up from the darkness to caress his side Her tail drags from behind her, brushing up along the beetle’s thigh. “You’ve lost control since the moment the divines put you up against me.”

Cynwrig plants one foot on the ground and spins, breaking free from her grasp in a topsy-turvy lariat. The more he spins, the more the room spins. And, it spins faster, and faster, and faster, still!

Laughing, serpentine faces taunt him from just out of his reach. Their cackles intensify the more the room spins. Soon, they become a deafening howl that fills the insect’s ears, pounding through his exoskeleton in a furious roar that threatens to break out from within him and tear him apart from the inside.

He falls back, unable to maintain his footing. He braces for the ground, but the land does not come. Instead, he plunges further and further, but slower with each passing moment, until finally, he lays suspended in the air.

Ra’lys walks up from the darkness once more, hands behind her back, and those eyes savor every tiny bit of the short beetle. She frees her hand enough to tickle up along his leg and his thigh. “You are an interesting specimen,” she admits, walking her hand up along his chitinous leg. “You see, most would-be heroes would at least put up some fight before falling to my hypnosis. You, however, came to me immediately.”

“What… what are you talking about?” Cynwrig asks, his arms straining as if insurmountable weights were tied to them. “I am fighting you. Here in this Tournament!”

“That’s what you want yourself to think,” she says, pulling her hand away from him. His hips buckle at the sudden lack of stimulation.

With a snap, Cynwrig suddenly sees himself sitting upon his knees. His eyes become a kaleidoscope of submissive, hypnotic servitude. Ra’lys, meanwhile, rests upon a chair, her legs spread, her clothing cast aside, her eyes matching the bug’s state, but domineering.

The Cynwrig that Cynwrig sees has his mouth buried between the snake’s legs, licking at a steady pace with loud, long slurps. His hands go behind his back. He doesn’t need them to please his mistress.

Cynwrig shakes his head. “No. This isn’t real. You’re showing me a trick. I’m here. You’re here. That’s an illusion.”

“Is it now?” Ra’lys says, placing a hand upon her chin. “But then, what is that taste you have upon your tongue? Savor it and tell me.”

Cynwrig hesitates, puffing out his cheeks. But, no matter what he does, he cannot ignore that strange metallic taste upon his tongue that is stronger in response to each lick that the phantasmal Cynwrig performs.

Or perhaps, it is the phantasmal Cynwrig that watches? He wiggles his antenna, and he feels nothing upon the body laying down, watching the ordeal. But before him, that vision of Cynwrig mirrors his intended movement.

“Now that you know the truth, my pet,” Ra’lys speaks. “It’s time I make you mine…”

T: Tik Tik no know how Cynwrig will get out of this!

H: It certainly is a predicament, and I’m not entirely sure how he can. Or, how can anyone defeat Ra’lys when she has her eyes upon them.

T: Her magic and hypnosis are super power. It might take great will to fight off. Question is if Cynwrig have that.

H: Well, you’ve spent time with him. What do you think?

T: Usually, when being hero, he break through anything, but… he also big pervy boy, so he might enjoy it and lose on purpose. Tik Tik have no knowing what will happen.

H: And we have no knowledge of if what we are seeing is the actual truth or not. I guess, we’ll just have to see this to the end, and see what the gods have in store.