I felt myself slowly waking up, which was surprising considering that the last thing I remember was dying. My mind was in a fog, but I remembered my nightmare of waking up in a girl’s body in a ridiculous fantasy world. Thankfully, that dream was finally over.
I lay with my eyes closed and wondered if I’d gotten a bad batch of something last night. I was by no means a heavy drug user, but I occasionally took part in some light recreational marijuana use. I had heard stories of people getting their hands on stuff laced with LSD or PCP and having bad reactions. I would have to ask Róisín what the hell happened…
I woke enough to realize that something was resting on my left forearm and throat. My eyes snapped open, and I stared into a razor-tooth-filled maw. I jerked in surprise and felt the cold stone floor I was lying on scratch against my bare skin. That strange shark-mouthed sloth creature from my fever dream hallucination was holding me down.
“Fuck me!” I shouted out in that feminine, raspy voice. I started to struggle weakly against the creature holding me down. I formed a fist with my right hand, intending to punch the creature’s head before it could bite me.
Peace… Calmness… Harmony… Support…
The sensations… maybe they were messages… came to me… from outside myself. The concepts weren’t expressed in words but in feelings, emotions, and perceptions that I could understand. I instinctively understood that the feelings were coming from the creature, not from myself. I didn’t understand what was happening but stopped struggling as I sensed the creature didn’t mean any harm. I felt wisps of the chaotic eddies of energy in my body being absorbed into my arm and throat, apparently directed by the creature. I certainly wasn’t controlling them. The throat swelling that had almost killed me was rapidly reducing, and the pain in my left forearm drained away.
I lay still, my mind racing with increasingly panicked thoughts. How is this not a dream? How is this real? Am I psychotic? Am I really in a female body in some fucked up fantasy world? None of this is possible! I must be in a coma! I felt another panic attack forming in my chest, my breathing becoming ragged.
Serenity… Tranquility…
The outside sensations came to me and surprisingly helped calm my panic. I cycled my breath in a deep breathing exercise, staving off yet another panic attack, until the creature’s hands released my throat and arm.
I jumped up off the floor and backed away from the creature, still a little weary of it and all its sharp teeth. I grabbed my left forearm and looked at it. Two very thin white scar lines were present in the pale white flesh where the elf’s knife had pierced my arm, but otherwise, there were no signs that I had just been stabbed through the arm.
“That isn’t possible. How long was I unconscious?” I looked up, addressing the squatting creature. It narrowed its eyebrows and half-cocked its head sideways at me, like a dog would do, confusion evident on its strange, not quite sloth-like face.
Confusion… Unfamiliarity…
The feelings again flowed into my mind. “Why did I assume you spoke English? Jesus, I am perpetuating a stereotype in a fantasy world,” I muttered as I looked around the room. I noted blood and viscera were still dripping down the wall where I killed the first elf.
Jesus, I had killed someone, two someones. The thought came unbidden, and I immediately put it out of my mind; I had so many other problems right now that took priority over a moral crisis over killing what were probably manifestations of a psychotic mind.
“So not long then.” I said aloud staring at the sludge dripping down the wall. I turned to the creature. “Do you have a name? Can you tell me who, or what you are?” Again, I was met with what I interpreted as confusion on the creature’s face.
Bewilderment… Unfamiliarity…
“Púca ató sá” sang a female voice, startling me. Apparently, disembodied voices spouting nonsense were still a thing.
“Jesus, who the hell is that? Where are you, lady!?” I shouted, my new feminine voice no longer raspy. I had been looking at the creature when I heard the voice, so I knew it wasn’t coming from it.
“Púca!” yelled the angry female voice.
“Púca, what the hell is a Púca?” I said aloud, looking around, trying to pinpoint the direction the voice was coming from. Speakers in the walls, maybe? I didn’t see anything that looked like a speaker, but that didn't mean anything in this damn place. I started considering that the voice might not be a figment of my imagination or part of a psychotic break.
Confirmation… Correctness…
“What?” I spun around and looked at the creature. Catching on, I pointed at the creature and said, “Púca?” with a questioning tone.
Acknowledgment… Confirmation…
I again gestured at the creature with my finger and said “Púca” with a definitive tone.
Confirmation …
“Ok, so you’re either a Púca or your name is Púca.” I was familiar with that word. I had heard it before but couldn’t place it from where or what it meant. “It’s nice to know that, but that doesn’t help me now. Can you understand anything I am saying?”
Bewilderment… Unfamiliarity…
“Fuck, just my luck.” Frustrated, I turned my head to the ceiling to address the universe. “Isn’t there supposed to be some bullshit magic spell that covers this situation? Isn’t that how this stupid fantasy isekai shit works? Whoever or whatever the fuck brought me here gives me some sort of universal translator to shove in my ear or up my ass or something? Don’t I at least get some stupid video game interface power that tells me what the hell is going on in some bullshit popup window only I can see!?”
I was venting my growing anger and frustration with vulgar sarcasm, a bit of a bad habit that my dad used to get on me about before he… died. Anyway, the Púca just stared at me during my nonsensical rant.
Bewilderment… Unfamiliarity… Confusion…
“Me too buddy! Me, fucking, too!” I yelled, my voice coming out as a high-pitched screech.
I looked around the room, and that was when it finally hit me that maybe what was happening was real. Maybe I wasn’t having a psychotic break or in some form of coma. While fantastical and utterly impossible, my situation was too well-structured and consistently detailed. I didn’t see any distortions of kaleidoscopic rainbow light or purple snails with my mother’s face flying through the air, as one would expect from a bad trip. The persistent foreign language I kept hearing sold me the most. I would expect that if my brain were malfunctioning and producing delusions, whether psychotic, drug induced, or comatose-related, they would be in English, or at least I would be able to understand it. Opening that door of thought brought the potential gravity of my situation crashing down.
I was naked, in a woman’s body, trapped underground, had just killed two nazi elves with my magic powers and bare hands, and all I had for company on this fucked up magical adventure in shit land was a gibberish-spewing ghost and a telepathic carnivorous sloth.
“Holy shiiiiiiiiiiiiit….”
Calmness… Tranquility…
“I will not calm down! We need to get the fuck out of here!”
I remembered the language issue; I gestured at the Púca, then at myself, and then the door the two elves had entered from. “Leave”. I repeatedly gestured at the two of us and then at the door. “Leave!” I said more forcefully.
Despite my earlier feelings, I didn’t feel bad about killing the elves. They were a couple of murder-hobo assholes, but I guessed that anyone else in this place would probably take serious exception to what I had done. We needed to get the hell out of here.
Sorrow… Loss… Grief… The Púca turned back to the little broken body of its companion and rested its head on it, sobbing, large tears raining from their oval eyes.
“Jesus, I am such an asshole,” I muttered, watching the Púca express their sorrow.
In my panic and desire to flee, I had forgotten about the Púca’s own horrific experiences. I stood there for several seconds, unsure of what to do. I had no words to comfort this little being. After a brief hesitation, I did the only thing I could think of doing. I knelt, put my arms around the Púca, and hugged the small creature, joining them in their grief. I silently prayed that the Púca didn’t misinterpret my actions as being hostile.
The Púca threw their little arms around me. Their sobbing intensified as they hugged me back, burying their face into the crook of my neck. Warm, wet tears flowed onto my skin. I could have been hugging a crying child if I didn't know better. I started crying, emotion overtaking me. We held onto each other and just cried.
After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and looked at the Púca. I knew allowing this creature their grief was necessary, but so was escape. After about a minute of thinking, I tried something. Recalling my endless battle with the flame, I tried projecting my feelings and emotions at the Púca, as they had done to me.
Apprehension… Fear… Imprisonment… Yearning… Escape…
I mentally pushed those feelings toward the Púca. I felt the emotions travel down the connection I had started to feel with the creature. The Púca lifted their head to look at me, its razor teeth were mere centimeters from my face. I found that I was no longer scared of the Púca; we had shared grief together and cried together. We had saved each other’s lives. I felt the bond with the little creature, no, person strengthen. It went beyond anything I have ever felt with anyone, almost as if it were a physical connection.
“I know you are sad for your friend, little guy, but we need to get out of here before more of these assholes show up.”
I knew the Púca couldn’t understand my words, but I continued to emanate feelings of apprehension and escape toward them. The Púca stopped crying and regarded me with its large sad black eyes. They wiped away tears with the back of their hand.
Confirmation…
I decided that I’d had enough nudity for today and walked over to the decapitated elf. I felt a little queasy at seeing the corpse, but I still didn't feel any remorse. I stripped the body of its utility vest, black tunic, and pants, fumbling with unfamiliar buckles and straps. As I stripped off the clothing, I briefly noted that all the external anatomy seemed similar to a human male, but I wasn’t about to attempt a necropsy on the body. The pants were too long as the elves were taller than I was, but thankfully, they had built-in waist and ankle ties to keep the pants in place on my new body. The back of the black shirt was soaked in orange fluid from where the body had been lying in a pool of what I assumed was their version of blood.
I grimaced as I slid the shirt tunic thing over my head, orange blood smearing onto my arms and my long silver-white hair. The cold, wet feeling of the congealing fluid was off-putting, and I had to force myself not to vomit. The leather boots were too large for my now slightly more diminutive feet, so I tossed them aside. I threw the vest on last, the strange buckles momentarily confusing me, but eventually, I got it cinched down.
I looked down at my disheveled appearance, seeing the orange blood smeared across my arms. “Shit, I probably look like I butchered a couple of guys in a murder dungeon,” I muttered to myself, unsure if the blood stained clothes or nudity would be less conspicuous.
I tore a thin strip of cloth from the bottom of the tunic and attempted to mimic an action I had seen so many girls do: tie a simple ponytail. I fumbled with it, starting over several times until I managed a granny knot on the back of my head that kept the hair out of my face.
I quickly inspected the cells, looking for more Púca or anything intelligent being held against their will. Some of the cells, including the first one I had seen, contained some genuinely terrifying creatures but nothing that made itself known as having anything more than animal intelligence.
Yearning… Escape… “Let’s go, little dude.” I reached down, picked up the Púca, and made for the exit, intending to carry the helpless, child-sized person out of this hell hole.
Alarm… Distress… The Púca started squirming as I held him.
Concern… “What is it?” I stopped and looked at the Púca cradled in my arms. They gestured under their white fur at a thin metal collar I hadn’t seen around their neck.
Pain… Distress…
I examined the collar. It encompassed the Púca’s neck and seemed to have tiny barbs on the underside that dug into the flesh. A small glowing yellow crystal was inset into the front of the collar above the Púca’s chest. Directly behind their head, I saw what appeared to be a locking mechanism with an unusually shaped keyhole. I rummaged around the numerous vest pockets with my free hand, unsure exactly what I was looking for. The Púca gestured with a clawed finger at a pocket on the bottom right of the vest. The fact that the Púca knew where the elf preferred to keep his keys gave me some idea of how long the pair had been imprisoned. I pulled out a bundle of small metallic rods with broken spiral patterns around them, looking almost exactly like defective wood screws. With some trial and error, I found one that was the right size to start threading into the keyhole. I continued to twist it into place until I felt a click, and the lock popped open. The Púca reached up and pulled off the metal collar.
Relief… Liberation… Freedom!!! These feelings came to me, the last one stronger than any of the others I had felt before.
“I bet that does feel better…. woah!” I half cried out as the Púca struggled in my arms. I tried to set the Púca down gently, but it leaped from my arms like an angry cat, landing on the floor.
As the Púca landed, it started to… well… morph is the best description I can think of. Their arms and legs elongated and thickened as the long bones changed lengths, shifting their joints into new positions. Their fingers and toes curled into sickle shapes and solidified into large talons. The fluffy white fur thickened and darkened into a coarse black with reddish undertones. The dramatic changes continued as their face and head rotated 90 degrees upward to align with the direction of their spine. They dropped down onto all four limbs, changes continuing. Their mouth stretched forward into a long, pointed muzzle, teeth seeming to multiply as they protruded from the upper and lower jaws. Their nasal slits widened and elongated halfway up, forming a muzzle. Their eyes shrank to the size of marbles and sank back into the skull, brow ridges now providing substantial protection to the eyes. Large rust-red scales erupted from the skin surrounding the face and muzzle. Finally, a thick protrusion of flesh sprouted from the Púca’s lower back, elongating into a thin whip-like tail ending in a stinger-like spike. The only part of the creature that remained unchanged was its long, white-furred, pointy ears.
“Holy… Fucking… Shit…” I slowly stuttered out.
After the transformation finished, the Púca turned toward the headless corpse, opening its mouth to let out a low deep hiss. I couldn’t help but think that the Púca looked like a lizard bobcat demon straight out of the seventh circle of hell.
Anger… Fury… Rage… The Púca pounced on the corpse of the elf, biting onto its shoulder. One paw lashed forward, six talons slashing into the abdomen. With one quick jerk, the Púca disemboweled the body, tearing it open at the waist. With a forceful wrenching of their head, the corpse launched across the room, pinwheeling through the air and crashing into the cell door of the unidentified four-eyed lizard creature. I saw two large claws extend through the bars and grasp a foot. It slowly pulled the corpse’s leg into the cell, the body getting stuck at the groin. The creature continued to pull until the leg ripped free of its hip joint with a wet tearing sound. Another claw reached through the bars and stabbed the torso in the stomach and slowly pulled inward. The corpse folded in half and the spine broke with a sickening snap as the body was forced between the metal rods of the cell door. I had to turn away when I heard loud, crunching noises from the cell.
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Termination… Closure!!!...
Confirmation… “You can say that again… He’s extra dead now.”
Yearning… Desire… Retaliation… Punishment… Vengeance…
The Púca stalked over to the exit and looked back at me, their mouth in a snarl, pointed teeth prominently displayed. Despite their dramatic transformation and terrifying appearance, I felt no fear of the Púca. Deep inside, I felt our shared bond and knew I would never have to fear this little person again.
Caution… Restraint… Escape… “I understand you want revenge, but we have to focus on getting out of here.” I mentally cautioned his new friend. I peeked out the exit and saw more hallways with doors.
“After you, because I have no clue… about anything.” I gestured with a sweep of my arm toward the exit. I hoped the Púca had an idea of where they were and how to get out of this dungeon.
I followed the Púca as it ran out the exit and through the hallways. The unfamiliar body and chaotic energy suffused within continued to cause problems with running. To make things worse, the energy would unpredictably rush out of my legs, causing a weakness that would make me stumble. I tried not to let that slow me down, but I could tell the Púca was limiting its pace so I could keep up.
We ran through the hallways until we saw a figure standing in front of a large wooden door with white writing and a symbol that could have been an up arrow. It was an elf wearing black metal plate armor with a red insignia painted on the chest, the same design on the shoulder patches that adorned my stolen clothing. The armor covered most of his body except for the primary arm and leg joints. Chain mail covered the exposed joints and the abdomen. The elf wore a helmet that left the face, eyes, and ears uncovered, but a chain mail collar protected the neck. The armor seemed a compromise between protection and mobility. He stood holding a circular shield and sword at the ready. Apparently, he had been alerted to trouble.
“I’ve got this!” I manically shouted and ran straight at the guard, drawing my right fist back.
While the guard had been alerted to trouble, a screaming, blood-soaked, barefoot berserker and their charging hellcat lizard were beyond his expectations. He briefly froze upon seeing us but still managed to move his shield up to intercept my punch in time. Not that his shield would defend him against my monstrous strike, or at least that’s what I thought as I swung my fist.
I struck the guard’s shield, expecting the guard to rocket backward from the force of the impact.
What actually happened was that my entire fist erupted in pain, and I heard the distinct sound of multiple bones cracking.
It was my turn to freeze in horrified surprise. The guard, who had also braced for a strong attack, appeared confused at my utter failure and subsequent injury. He started smirking and smoothly flourished his short sword. I looked up from my broken hand to look into the guard's eyes. I numbly observed that they were different from human eyes. Each eye had two oval-shaped pupils in a side-by-side arrangement, the outside one smaller than the inside one, making the iris look like a lopsided figure eight. Each pupil was positioned on the eye to provide both excellent binocular vision and peripheral vision. I also saw the unmistakably murderous intent grow on the guard's face.
“Oh, shit…” I groaned.
The guard’s sword erupted in yellow flame, and he swung it at my head. As the sword reached halfway in the swing, the Púca smashed into the guard at a run, knocking him sideways. The guard stumbled but didn’t fall. His sword missed my head, instead landing a slicing blow on my shoulder, cutting painfully into my deltoid muscle, burning skin and flesh. The pain caused me to stumble back into a wall.
An ethereal blue glow burst from the guard, coalescing around his chest and exposed face. The Púca had managed to cling onto the guard’s shield after impacting it. Their back claws dug deep gouges into the shield, their added weight dragging it closer to the ground. The Púca’s swiped their front claws just mere centimeters from the guard’s face, its claws scraping ineffectually off what was apparently some form of barrier or force field. I was shocked that the guard could hold the weight of his shield and the Púca with one arm.
I frantically pawed at the knife tucked into my waist belt, but my right hand was broken and too weak to grasp the weapon. I saw that the guard was recovering from the Púca’s charge and was maneuvering his sword for a stabbing attack at the snarling creature. Without really thinking it through, I lunged at the guard and grabbed his arm, knocking his sword swing off course to smash into the floor, mere centimeters from my bare foot. The flames licked at my toes, burning them. I grunted with pain from my injuries but held precariously onto the guard's arm.
I now had the guard’s attention as I clung to his sword arm. He tried to dislodge me by smashing my body hard against the stone wall. The crushing blow hurt like hell and knocked the wind out of me. I had almost let go of the arm but continued to hold firm while trying to breathe. The smell of burning meat filled my nostrils, warm blood splattering on my bare feet from the injury. The guard continued to focus on me and smashed me up against the wall again. This attention turned out to be a fatal mistake. In his efforts to free his arm from my grip, the guard had forgotten about the real threat in the fight.
While the guard was having fun trying to break me open, the Púca stopped its ineffectual slashing and spun 90 degrees on the shield. The guard seemed to feel the weight shift and returned to regard the nuisance clinging to his shield when a long glowing yellow spike slammed deep into the guard’s face, penetrating the hazy shield. Every muscle in the guard’s body spasmed momentarily before going slack, the corpse dropping to the floor, dragging me down with it. I tried not to shudder as the Púca yanked its gore-covered tail spike from the guard's left eye.
I extricated myself from the tangle of limbs and stood up. “Holy shit, did that just happen? Actually, what the hell did just happen? Did that guy have some kind of body shield?” I turned to the Púca as if I expected an answer.
Bewilderment… Unfam…
I cut off the little guy with a hand wave and an eye roll and muttered, “Yeah yeah, You no speaka my language,”
Oddity…
“I think you would have gotten along with my ex-girlfriend,” I grunted as I slumped to the ground, slowly breathing. I grasped at the back of my ruined shoulder with my good hand, trying to stymie the bleeding that the flames of the sword hadn’t cauterized.
The Púca walked over and butted his head against my forehead. I felt the randomly swirling eddies of energy surge into my right shoulder and hand. I felt sharp pains as the broken metacarpals snapped back into position. I released my shoulder in time to see the large, burned laceration on it seal itself into a thin, jagged white scar.
“That… is… a pretty cool trick…” I said slowly, marveling at watching my flesh heal in seconds. Could he do that with anyone? Between the healing and the shape-shifting, I think I understood why the Púca were imprisoned.
Appreciation… Gratitude… I sent my thoughts to the Púca.
Fused… Stuck… Bonded… I received from the creature, not understanding what the Púca was trying to tell me.
I moved to a kneeling position over the dead body and quickly searched it for anything useful. I took the guard’s sword and what appeared to be a bumbag tied around the waist under the chain mail armor. I briefly contemplated taking the armor or at least some pieces of it but decided it was a silly idea for several reasons, the top two being sizing issues and the time it would take to get it off the body and onto myself; I could barely manage the strapping system on the vest I wore.
As I looked down at the dead guard, the magnitude of my actions hit. The guard had done nothing to me. He was just a Soldier defending his post. Did he have a family? A wife? Kids? Did he deserve such a violent death?
I never considered trying to talk to the guy. Worse, I had eagerly attacked him with a smug self-assurance that I could one-shot the guy with a punch and had so nearly died for my arrogance. While I hadn’t delivered the killing blow, I was just as responsible for the guard’s death.
I felt the panic returning. “What have I done?” I whispered, looking down at my orange blood-soaked hands. My body started to shake, my head dropping into my hands. Ok, I guess I was going to have the classic ‘oh, I just killed three men in the space of about 20 or so minutes’ meltdown.
I think what finally pushed me over the edge was the death of this guard. He was just doing his job, and we killed him for doing it. The first two elves seemed like they were super sadistic assholes, but I didn’t have all the information when I killed them. For all I know, the Púcas murdered and ate their children. If that were the case, their actions, while still horrible, could maybe be viewed as justice. My new little buddy didn’t seem like the child-eating variant of shape-shifting demonic hellcats, but I met the creature about 20 minutes ago, so what did I really know? Am I the monster roaming the halls of this dungeon?
The reality of everything I had done and was done to me was too much. I sat there on the cold floor and started crying. The tears were an expression of my anger, frustration, and fear. I was in a strange world filled with magical beings, in a woman’s body, and now I was a murderer.
The Púca seemed to register my feelings and walked over to me. It, he, she, I had no clue of what gender it was, so I guess I should be gender neutral when referring to them as calling the Púca ‘it’ was just rude. The large cat/lizard creature crawled into my too-small lap and nuzzled me with their head, careful not to rub their teeth on me. They started emitting a pulsing vibration that felt and sounded oddly like a cat purring, except with cooing noises. Their weight in my lap and purring immediately calmed me; my breathing and heartbeat slowed. I started stroking the Púca’s back, returning the affection.
Cruel… Repressive… Violence… Enemy…
I received the sensations from the Púca. I think it was trying to reassure me that our actions were justified, that the elves we killed were brutal and oppressive. That was certainly true about the first two, but I remained unconvinced about the guard. Though looking back, the guard had seemed quite happy to be swinging his sword at my head, so maybe he was a sadistic asshole too. I decided the time for self-pity was over, and we needed to keep moving.
“Thanks buddy” I said and gave them a quick hug. I gently pushed them off my lap and stood up.
Gratitude… Understanding… Escape… Haste… I sent to the Púca to try and tell them it was time to move on.
I looked over the door the elf had been guarding. It had large white designs painted on it that I strongly suspected was writing but didn’t care enough to want to study it, given my singular priority was escape. The Púca didn't wait for me to open the door, smashing it open with a lunge. That simple yet violent action surprised me. I didn’t think the Púca had enough mass to knock down a sturdy wooden door. Maybe he had the same energy I did and thought back to my own episode as an improvised battering ram after I woke up here.
Behind the door was a set of circular stairs only leading up; I had guessed correctly that we were on the lowest level of this place. I chased after the Púca as it ran up the stairs, my bare feet slapping on the stone as we ascended. We passed multiple doors similar to the one we came through but didn't encounter anyone else. After what felt like three or four floors, we reached the top of the stairs and encountered another closed door.
Calm… Patience… “Hey dude, stop!” I waved my hands ineffectually at the back of the charging Púca. I didn’t want them to smash through the door into an unknown room filled with an unknown number of evil elves or possibly something worse, like evil proctologists. The Púca just stopped short of the door, a desire to smash through evident in their quivering limbs.
I moved past the Púca and pushed down on the apparent door latch. Its mechanism smoothly clicked open, and I pushed the door open a few centimeters.
Peering out, I could tell that the door opened into a large, spacious room or hall. It was difficult to determine the size of the room through the slim viewing angle. A glance showed that the room was made of the same small dark polished stones as the lower levels but was clean and dry. Multiple evenly spaced statues of armored elves in regal poses featured prominently along the wall. Dark color paintings depicting large-scale battles or armor-clad elves beheading various creatures adorned the walls along with other crimson-themed ornamentation. Black-clad figures moved about the hall with frantic activity, unintelligible verbal orders shouted, and elves rushing to carry them out. They really went all in on the dark and sinister motif. I didn't stop my observations to admire the blood elf decor. My attention was focused on the bustle of activity in the hall.
“Aww shit, I think I kicked the beehive with that weird death scream thing earlier,” I had been wondering if the sound had carried beyond the stone-walled room. It seems that it had.
Bewilderment… Unfamiliarity…
“Sorry little dude,” I whispered. I concentrated: Concern… Discovery… Failure… Escape…
The Púca looked up at him: Comprehension…
This weird emotional feeling communication thing we had going was getting easier.
“I don’t think we are sneaking our way out of this. I think we should rush out this door, look for the closest exit, and then run for it.” I followed this statement up with:
Surprise… Aggression… Haste… Escape…
The Púca cocked their head at me. Incredulity…
“Oh? Have you got a better idea, my little mighty morphin power demon?”
Bewilderment… Concern… Oddity…
“Oh, I’m the weirdo?” I whispered, looking at the Púca. The more they communicated their feelings and emotions with me, the more I understood their meaning. I hoped the growing understanding was happening both ways.
Confirmation…
“Ha ha, smartass,” I didn’t wait for the Púca’s response. “I’m going to throw open this door. We spot the nearest exit, and we run like hell.” I followed up with a pulse of feelings to ensure that the Púca understood me.
Acknowledgment… Reluctance… Insanity…
“Yeah, this is a pretty terrible idea, but I don't have a better one.” With that, I flung open the door, and we raced out into the room beyond.
I first noticed that the room was much bigger than I had expected it to be; it looked like some sort of assembly hall. And it was absolutely filled with elves. They rushed about their tasks with focus. Most wore the black tunic and pants uniform ensemble I had seen on the two clowns downstairs, but more than a few seemed to be wearing more multicolor and overtly ornate layered clothing that seemed straight out of the court of Louis XIV. Most alarmingly were the few elves marching around wearing black metal plate armor and carrying long swords.
I didn’t pause long enough to gape at the sight or start muttering expletives. I looked around quickly to take in the entire room, my new fisheye peripheral vision allowing me to take in almost the entire situation with one sweep of my head. A small wave of vertigo came over me as I took in the entire room. While I couldn’t process most of what I saw at the periphery, I found what I was looking for. A set of giant wooden French doors were at one end of the Hall, with large windows adorning both sides. And, of course, because my day couldn’t get any worse, two armored elves with circular shields and drawn swords stood ready in front of the doors.
I turned my body and started sprinting full tilt at the guard on the right, pulling out the short sword I had looted off the guard’s corpse; the Púca followed behind me, apparently happy to let me lead the way in this suicidal charge.
Each guard wore the same armor as the elf downstairs. I guessed they would be slowed down by the protection, but not enough to make for a significant advantage in a fight. I sprinted at the guard, hoping my surprise advantage would hold up.
Obfuscation… Surprise… Escape… I mentally messaged my new little friend, hoping they would understand my crazy plan.
While the guard was surprised at our sudden appearance, he was well-trained. He assumed a ready stance, shield held up and slightly forward to absorb a strike, sword ready to deliver a counterattack. The other guard took a similar pose, prepared to support.
Just as I reached about five meters from the guard, I launched my sword toward the guard’s head, strange power flowing around the sword as it left my hand. The guard shifted his shield upward to protect his vulnerable face, trusting his armor to protect him from the thrown blade. I had been counting on this instinctual protection reaction.
With his shield covering his face, the elf guard didn’t see the sword sail past the left side of his head and smash through the window. I darted right, throwing my arms up in front of my face, and dove through the window, narrowly missing decapitation by a wild swing from the recovering guard. The Púca had thankfully understood my plan as it continued toward the guard, capitalizing on his clumsy failed attack on me. They jumped and struck the guard’s shield with their entire body, then used their powerful legs to spring off the shield towards the now shattered window. This action roughly shoved the first guard into the second one, both stumbling back and falling over.
I landed hard on smooth paving stones, rolling uncontrollably while protecting my face with my arms. I knew leaping through the window was a long shot, but not as much as facing down two armored elves. I stopped rolling in time to see the Púca land gracefully on the road. I jumped to my feet and looked around in a panic.
While I had started to accept that I was now in some pseudo-fantasy world, I was not ready for what I saw. It was early evening, and the sun was almost done setting on the horizon. This still left enough illumination to see that I was surrounded by a crowd of strange bipedal creatures, all gawking at me and the Púca due to our unusually violent exit from the building. I saw the expected elves, but there were many unfamiliar beings. Short stocky creatures with beards, tall thin scaly reptilian beings, fur-covered creatures, and many others. I saw that most of the non-elves were wearing colorless grey, grungy clothing, though a few naked bodies stood out.
I had to quickly sidestep out of the way as what looked like a giant hornless, fur-covered rhinoceros pulling a cart plodded along the street, uncaring that I had landed in front of it. It towered over me, reminding me of some of the massive prehistoric skeletons found in natural history museums.
“What the…” I started to say before I heard the sound of angry shouts coming from the window. A bolt of flame shot out of the window, narrowly missing my head, and struck the side of the cart. The rhino creature reared up on its hind legs, emitting a thunderous bellow that stunned. I just stood there stupidly staring at the giant animal.
“Leave!Leave!Leave!” yelled that female voice in my mind, bringing clarity back.
Oh, not this shit again, I thought. I picked a direction and started running, Púca trailing close behind.
***********************************************
Doronel Arakas stood gazing out the window in his sparsely adorned office. He was dressed in his official attire, a crimson short coat emblazoned with his family’s spear sigil in gold thread worn over an elegant black silk shirt and black silk pants tucked into knee-high Selkie leather boots. He had been preparing to attend a formal meeting with the other major family heads in the Great Hall, that was, until the recent disruption caused him to cancel it. Everyone in the building had heard the scream but only those with profound level perception could feel the massive echo of discharging ania.
He looked down upon a city street that had returned to its usual activities quickly after the spectacle the escaping prisoner had caused not just 30 minutes earlier. The city's denizens knew to keep their heads down and not ask questions. Of course, word of the event would reach the other family heads. They would demand answers, answers that he didn't have.
He heard a knocking at the door, followed by its opening and closing. He didn’t bother to turn around. Only two people would dare enter his office without permission, and his brother didn’t bother knocking first.
“What, in the name of the four treasures, is going on, Varis? " Doronel asked in a frigid but controlled voice.
“Lord Magistrate. I’m still not exactly sure. As best I can tell, a prisoner and a Púca escaped the dungeon and managed to bypass your guards, escaping through a window in the Great Hall. They then proceeded to escape into the night. I’ve ordered the city sealed in your name, and a hunt is underway for the fugitives. There are still many inconsistencies I am attempting to understand.” said Arhana Varis. The report was given rapidly without embellishments.
“Inconsistencies?” Doronel turned around and raised an eyebrow at the female aesidhe.
“I am unsure of the identity of the escaped female. She doesn’t match any of the prisoners on record. I am not even sure what race she is. The entrance guards who failed to stop her escape were the only ones to see her clearly, if only briefly. They reported that she wasn’t an aesidhe, nor was she a race they could recognize. Her face was too soft and round, her body strangely proportioned, and she didn't have ears. The features the guards remembered most clearly were her long silver hair and eyes. He said she had the eyes of an aesidhe, though said they were blue.”
“How did she manage to escape?”
“Misdirection. She charged at the guard, feigning an attack, but threw her sword at the window, breaking it.”
“Impossible, those windows were reinforced with rhith. Someone helped her escape. Interrogate the guards and see if they’re the ones helping her. Don’t kill them during your questioning; I want them alive to make a public example. Include their mates and children if they have any. Failure of this magnitude can’t be tolerated.”
“Understood, My Lord,” said Arhana Varis as she bowed her head and placed her right fist over the center of her chest.
“Find Dharzorn and tell him to join the hunt for whatever she is, if he isn't already. She shouldn't be hard to find.” Doronel turned back to the window, dismissal evident in his tone. He had so many questions he wanted to ask but knew Arhana well enough to know that was all the information she currently had.
“My Lord… There is more,” Arhana hesitated, something she never did when speaking to him; that brief hesitation gave Doronel an ill feeling. “I believe your brother is dead.”
“WHAT!” Doronel yelled in a booming voice, his aura briefly flaring in uncontrolled fury. This was one of the rare times Arhana saw her Lord exhibit anything resembling strong emotions. “And what do you mean you believe?”
“There are at least three fatalities we were able to find. One high-tier initiate guard was found slain at a checkpoint exiting the lowest level, and we believe we found two more fatalities in the beast cells. One body was found partially consumed in the oilliphéist cell, and there was an accumulation of blood and flesh fragments of sufficient size to be consistent with a second body. Neither were readily identifiable, but I have tasked a mage to analyze for residual ania signatures. I have been unable to locate your brother or his servant, and I received a report that they were going to the beast cells today. Dharzorn was going to attempt to force a soul bond with one of the two feral púcas Ruvaen has been experimenting on. We found one of the púca beaten to death and the ania restraint collar of the other.”
Arhana finished her report and waited, unsure if the next several seconds would bring her death.
“Bring me those two guards now! I will find out who she is and who they are working for. Make an example of their families. Make it… memorable.” snarled Doronel.
“They are waiting outside, My Lord,” said Arhana, anticipating this demand. “Do you need assistance with the questioning?” Arhana asked this question with a small smile and a slightly predatory glint in her eyes.
“No, you need to find my brother’s murderer. Do not kill her. I will not accept any accidents with her apprehension. Do you understand?” Doronel talked as he opened a closet door and removed a leather satchel. He set it down on his desk with the clanking of multiple metal objects colliding within the bag.
“Yes, My Lord” responded Arhana, bowing her head deeper before turning to leave. She gestured to the two waiting guards inside as she opened the door. “The Lord Magistrate wishes to speak to you.” Neither aesidhe saw the small smirk on her face as she walked away.
The two guards walked nervously into the office and quickly dropped to one knee, hands balled into fists over their chests. They had felt the quick burst of intense aura minutes ago, but the placid face of the Lord Magistrate seemed to mollify their nerves.
“My Lord,” each said in unison.
Arhana was just able to hear the Lord Magistrate calmly say, “Now tell me who you are working for and who that creature was,” before the door slammed shut, seemingly of its own accord.
Screaming soon followed.