As your opponent’s skin gleams, raw and exposed, you coat every inch of them in a potent layer of thick, cold menthol ointment. The sharp scent floods the air, making it hard for them to breathe, each inhale laced with a stinging chill. Their muscles tense, but they can’t move, not with the ropes cinched tight, securing them to the sinewy frame of a wild pig, its eyes wild, rolling in every direction. It snorts, sensing something amiss, hooves scraping against the ground in anxious little bursts.
And then, without warning, a spark catches. The flames lick up quickly, igniting the ointment like dry tinder, crawling over their skin with a ravenous, relentless heat. Fire and ice fuse, the intense burn of the flame mingling with the chilling tingle of menthol, a torment that sears through every nerve, a paradox of pain. The pig beneath them squeals and bucks, eyes flashing as it launches forward, fueled by fear, tearing through the sharp underbrush in a frenzied sprint that sends their fiery naked body into the darkness of the abrasive woods.
$6.99
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