by Cebelius
'Incomprehensible man.'
What you and I have is pure business. You said it yourself.
'I also said I wouldn't mind becoming one of your women.'
You have enough control over my life as it is. The woman who calls me 'Master' is the bossiest of the three by a wide margin. Not interested. Thanks.
'She also cares for you the most ... by a wide margin. We'll talk more about this later.'
"You ready for this?"
Laina asked the question in tones so close to Euryale's the night previous that it brought the smile back to his face as he turned and leaned against the sill as he looked up at Laina.
"Hon, no matter what happens down there today, I am going to make the most of it. This is my chance to prove once and for all that when it comes to hand to hand, there's no one better than me."
"There's always someone better, Boss," Laina said, smirking as she folded her arms under her chest, which of course drew his eyes like a magnet.
She saw, smirked at him, and flexed her chest, first the left, then the right. Her bust was tightly bound in a sarashi, but that didn't stop the muscle movement from doing interesting things that almost caused his train of thought to jump the tracks.
"Boss?"
"Yeah?" he said, still staring unabashedly at her chest. By now his mind had started working again, but he decided to play with her a bit. He knew she still thought her tits were her best feature and while he wasn't going to fight her on it, it did make her easy to tease.
"My eyes are up here."
"I'm going to have you a shirt made that has eyes down here instead," he said, reaching out and tapping the relevant locations. The insides of Laina's ears turned red, and she was giving him 'the look' when he finally met her gaze.
"I know there's always someone better, hon," he said. "I just want to make sure everyone out there knows there's no one better today."
Her annoyed frown turned into a smirk, and she nodded at him. "Kick her ass, Boss. She's got it coming."
Yes, yes she does.
There was a knock at the door, and Euryale opened it, peeked out, then opened it the rest of the way.
Asturial stood there in a white sarashi that set off the ruby scales of her sides rather well. She also wore a black leather belt from which hung a white cloth that covered her front, but left her thighs bare.
That's ... actually kind of hot.
Her bright red hair couched her fin-like ears and hung down to her middle back in a wild mass. She wore no jewelry this time, and the expression on her sharp-featured face was flat and unsmiling. Her slitted golden eyes were locked on him, and her tail was lashing from side to side in a way that hinted at danger, and that reminded him what he was about to fight wasn't even close to human.
"It is time, template. I hope you are ready to get this farce over with."
His eyes narrowed as he considered her a bit more closely. He couldn't really tell because, of course, she wasn't human, but it looked to him as though she'd slept poorly, and her arms hung limp at her sides in a way that spoke to him of weariness rather than readiness.
"I am," he said as he stepped forward. He was wearing baggy green silk pants and a green silk shirt with a v-neck and no sleeves. Prada rode his waist as her usual sash — a proud slash of red across his middle. Euryale and Laina had supposedly 'split the cost' on his new threads, and he had to say he liked the way they fit. He hadn't had the heart to tell them he'd have preferred black, but given the flags out there waving for him were green he suspected they'd made their purchases with privileged information, and was glad he hadn't said anything.
They are a gift from women who love me, after all.
"Are you ready, Astur? You look like shit if you don't mind me saying so. Sure you've recovered from that fainting thing you had a few days back?"
It was a cheap shot, but it landed hard and she grimaced and turned sharply, her tail thumping the door hard enough to slam it against the wall as she said, "Cherish the thought, template. After we're finished, you may never look right again."
He grinned. "That's the spirit! Now in the face-off you just need to try your best to look intimidating and say, 'I must break you,' in a fake Russian accent. Take my word: people will eat that shit up."
She left without answering, striding down the hall as though she owned it, the castle, and everyone else. Terry tilted his head and watched her thick tail switch from covering her right cheek to her left. She had a cloth draping in the back as well with a slit that snugged up tight against the tail, but her outer cheeks were definitely on display.
'You are getting overconfident. You are not Rocky and THAT, is most DEFINITELY not Drago.'
Drago, Dragon ... close enough.
He looked over at Euryale and said, "Did you get that cloth tape for me?"
Euryale smirked at him and held up two rolls. "I've got it. You want to put it on now, Master?"
"Naw. Down there. Just wanted to make sure you had it."
With the three women he cared more for than anything else in the world flanking him, Terry felt every inch the boss as he strode toward the fight of his life with a smile on his face.
Shy stood with the others and watched as the flimsy wooden gate swung shut behind Tee. The crowd's roaring increased ten-fold as her man stepped into the temporary arena erected expressly for this fight, and she smiled as she felt the way his pride surged. His uncertainties and misgivings all seemed to fall away, and she had never felt such savage joy from him as she felt now.
It was nothing like the pleasant feel of his love. This sensation she felt from him was raw, unapologetic dominance. Here was the place where he had always believed he would forge his destiny, and he owned that feeling without reservation. It was intoxicating.
Euryale's cool brazen claw on her shoulder startled her from her reverie and the smile slipped from her face as she turned and saw who had drawn the gorgon's attention.
Oh no. Not now.
Cecaelia glided from the darker shadows near the entrance to the stands used by those coming from the keep. An enormous palanquin sat there, attended by a veritable host, yet the Lady of the Waves paid them no mind as her regal gaze shifted to each of Tee's women in turn. She was unabashedly nude, and stood upon mortal legs, but her tentacles writhed around her, draping artfully over her shoulders and around her hips.
Her voice held faint traces of amusement as she spoke. "Relax, Shy Willow. I have no intention of interrupting this seminal moment."
Euryale giggled at that. The Lady of the Waves quirked a brow at her, then shrugged and her smile widened slightly as she went on. "In fact I plan to enjoy it thoroughly, but there is more to what will soon happen than you know, and you must be ready.
"Astur has lied to you all. Her dragon body has been corrupted. It has already made pilgrimage to the Twilight Zone under the guidance of its usurper, where the Dust Lord has no doubt cemented the creature's hold over it. Asturial is now a dragon in name only, and her former body is on its way here, now. The city will be under assault within half an hour. Viceroy Ross asked my council three days ago, and I consented to come personally to arrange for the salvation of Florence."
"Why?" Euryale asked. "I thought you destroyed cities along the coast as a matter of course. Why care about this one?"
Unlike the rest of them, Euryale had nothing to fear from Cecaelia, and it showed in her bold posture and questions. Shy winced, but the Lady of the Waves seemed to take the question as expected, and was not offended.
"I do, but this city in particular has been loyal to me for many generations. They venerate me, and Volai was my Vicereine, before greed turned her from me. I may be capricious, but the people of Florence have done nothing to earn my displeasure. The city serves to hold the zone at bay, and so I have come to ensure there is at least some chance of preserving it."
She smirked as she spoke though, and as her eyes returned to Shy she added, "As you must know, however, it is not in my nature to simply snap my fi
ngers and save anyone. I have laid the ground-work, but if Florence stands when the last rays of the setting sun fade, it will be because Terrence Mack wishes it to be so. In his heart, he still thinks his destiny is yonder, in the arena. Perhaps what happens here this evening will finally serve to teach him otherwise."
Glancing around again, she said, "If Terrence is to do as he must, you three must harken to my words, and obey."
Shy and the others all gave their assent, and listened closely as Cecaelia told them what they must do.
29
Something to Prove
"All right, you lot! Se'le down!"
Mamma Moo's voice was amplified dramatically by the black-robed mage standing behind her. It was the only explanation Terry could come up with for the way her words boomed across the pit and effortlessly drowned out the dull roar of the crowds.
Terry stood in the sands, rechecking the tightness on the wraps he'd put on. They didn't feel nearly as comfortable as proper fighting wraps, but they would do the job. He'd given Euryale the ratty remains of his original wraps and she'd done the legwork to find these replacements. He trusted that she'd gotten the best there was to be had.
The sandy pit was easily sixty feet across, much larger than what he was used to, but he was rather thankful for the extra space. He didn't know what exactly he'd be faced with once the fight started, but so far on Celestine his most reliable advantage was his speed, and he planned to use it for all it was worth today.
"By now, ever'one knows 'oo these two are, but fer the sake o' the daft an' strange I'll tell-e anyway! In white, figh'in out 'o 'er lair in the mountains, we've a dragon proxy!"
Mamma Moo paused as the roar of the crowd picked up, and when it died away she continued.
"But she's no ordinary dragon! Oh no. Some o' you may know she's made an' appearance'r two in my pit over the years, and 'er record ain't worth mentionin' other than t'say she's never 'ad a fight lasted more'n one minute! The undisputed, undefeated, untouchable, unbreakable, absolutely invincible red dragon, Astur!"
As the crowd went wild, Terry focused on the draconian woman some twenty feet away. She wasn't stretching, or even moving. She just stared at him with level golden eyes and waited patiently for the fight to start.
So she's been in a brawl before ... quite a few by the sound of it.
'Steady on, Master. So have you.'
I'm not worried, but that changes things a bit. I have to wonder if her wins are pure physicality, or if she's got real skills.
'For your sake, you'd better hope it's just the former.'
You are just a RAY of fucking sunshine, Prada.
'Just remember, Master. YOU are mortal. SHE is not.'
Once the fight starts, no talking.
'Yes, Master.'
The crowd finally settled as Mamma Moo raised both hands for quiet, and then she spread a palm toward Terry as she said, "An' the challenger in green! Figh'in from 'oo the fook knows where! T'rarest o' the rare! Wit' no regular record an' a single unranked win in Mamma Moo's pit! But don' let tha' fool ye! 'E's the savior o' Florence! Responsible fer the death's o' not one, but two Twilight Zone Locu'ors along with a whole mess 'o beasties! Ladies an' gentlemen, the first an' last template you will likely ever see! Terry, The BOSS, MAAAAAAACK!"
Rather than a roar, the hush remained as Mamma Moo's voice faded away, and Terry could feel the intensity of countless eyes focused on him. He raised a single fist and nodded once, then lowered it and cracked his neck and back as he stepped forward to one of the two white chalk lines that had been left in the sand that now covered the stone of the plaza.
That quiet is really eerie.
Astur stepped up to her side, and still no one spoke. She looked at him dispassionately and said, "What I do now, I do because you forced my hand, Terry Mack. It was not my intention to cause you harm."
"Afore we ge' star'ed, I've one last announcement!" Mamma Moo cried into the silence. Terry noticed Astur glancing up in annoyance, and realized she didn't know anything about what the minotress up in the stands was about to say. He turned his attention as well, and watched as a palanquin carried by almost a score of thickly muscled males of a variety of species rose into sight and was set down sideways in a place obviously prepared for it.
The entire thing was absurdly gilded in gold and jewels, and was roofed with what looked like solid gold. Thin veils covered all four sides, but two men stepped forward and slipped hands into the side facing the pit and prepared to open it. With flash of insight Terry's eyes widened.
Oh no. No, no, you have GOT to be kidding me.
"Aye've been told that one o' the Powers themselves 'as seen fit ta grace us with 'er presence! As there'r no words fit to properly introduce 'er, may I simply present the Lady o' the Waves, the immortal Cecaelia!"
The veils were drawn back, revealing the sleek, human-looking body of Cecaelia, reclining on what looked for all the world like — and probably was — a water bed covered with the finest pillows. Several of her tentacles were draped artfully to cover her obvious nudity, and as their eyes met she smirked at Terry and blew him a kiss. Shy, Euryale, and Laina were seated just next to the palanquin, and the first two waved at him as he met their eyes while Laina simply nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.
'Well ... that's unexpected. Look there, laying just in front of her.'
When Terry saw what it was Prada had noticed, he nodded as it all clicked. It was the Rod of the Heart. Cecaelia had come to claim the supposedly legendary staff Volai left behind.
'And take in a fight, no doubt.'
Prada's wry tone made Terry attempt a smile that wound up being a grimace as he turned to see Astur staring at him.
"What?" he asked.
"I will not be cheated of my prize, Terry Mack," the dragon warned. "If she interferes, I will take your life."
"I didn't know she was going to be here," he said, scowling. "She has nothing to do with this."
"Astur! Are, you, READY?!"
She gazed steadily at him for a long moment, then glanced at Mamma Moo and nodded.
"Boss! Are, you, READY?!"
"Where I come from, friendly fights are opened with a fist bump. Just touching knuckles, as a sign of respect. Will you do that with me?" Terry asked, looking steadily at Astur.
Her eyes narrowed, obviously suspecting some trick, but at length she nodded and held out a single fist, but didn't move from her starting position. Terry stepped forward, tapped her fist with his own, then returned to his line and without breaking eye contact with Astur he shouted, "Ready!"
"Then 'ere in literal sight o' the Powers, FIGHT!"
Terry's guard came up and he closed the distance as Astur waited patiently for him. She didn't even lift her hands.
He stepped in and opened with a quick jab that hit her cheek squarely. She barely flinched as he grit his teeth in pain and retreated, struggling against the impulse to shake his fist out. It felt like he had hit a brick covered with a few layers of paper.
Astur didn't smile. She simply raised her hands and stepped forward. He growled and tightened his fists as she opened with a jab of her own that he easily slipped as he stepped in, but found his left hook unexpectedly blocked as she dropped her other hand in an expert defense. Her other hand came crashing down in a violent slap that staggered him off his feet and sent him rolling.
He saw stars and knew his eye would be swollen shut in a few minutes. Blood was trickling down the side of his head from a cut over his temple, and all she'd done was slap him.
Oh, that is just BULLSHIT!
He came up to find her walking toward him, guard up, but a complete lack of concern on her face. He came in again and began testing her defense with light jabs, but that didn't work as she let them land and seemed utterly unaffected. Her own blows, while a bit slower than his, demonstrated technical skill as she struck at his face and body. He slipped most of her initial punches but was forced to block a body blow and was staggered as her punch powered right thr
ough his arm and slammed him backward and almost off his feet again.
She's just fucking with me. Whatever she's got going on inside, that body of hers isn't even CLOSE to normal.
Terry circled, struggling to get his wind back as Astur turned and continued walking toward him, allowing him whatever distance he wanted and not even trying to control the space. It was clear she wasn't taking him seriously as a threat at all.
He came into range again and watched as she began systematically testing his defense. He concentrated on dodging her punches as he watched her timing and footwork, which was just as lazy as the rest of her effort. The question was whether or not he could take advantage in any way that mattered.
She executed a straight jab and he stepped outside, hooked his trailing arm up and around her forearm and slammed his lead forearm into her elbow. The arm locked out and he slipped his arm up over hers to chop at her throat, but she blocked with her free hand and he was forced to leap away as she attempted to grab him.
Any normal human would now have a broken arm at the least to show for that exchange, but it didn't seem as though he'd even managed to hyperextend Astur's elbow, much less break it.
They closed again and Terry found himself losing one exchange after another as he searched for some way, any way, to do damage. He knew he was stronger than he had any right to be, but Astur may as well have been built out of skin and scale-coated rock for all the impact he was having. Both his hands hurt, and there was blood seeping through his wraps at the knuckles.
Then she tried another straight jab.
This time he caught her wrist as he turned into her, slamming his ass against her hips and twisting hard.
Her feet left the ground and physics took over as her body flew up across his hips. He controlled her flight with his grip on her arm, slamming her down into the sand as hard as he could. He stepped up and turned, rolling her body around from back to front using his knee on her locked-out elbow, but just as he was about to drop a knee to her neck and end the fight she tightened her arm, effortlessly breaking the lock-out, and with her other hand on the ground she lunged at him, shoving him away so violently that he staggered.
