Chapter 30
(Just be yourself)
Unlike the last time Jarow had joined this party, she now had an entire day before they were set to leave again. Additionally, Suhry was not the one creating the portal this time; instead, Xinpo had received the message with the coordinates and had been tasked with the duty.
Suhry appeared both relieved to be free of the responsibility and upset that her preparations would go to waste. It was difficult for Jarow to discern Suhry's true feelings, as she always seemed to wear a scowl. Although she seemed more put off than usual, there was also an air of relief about her.
Furthermore, there was the small matter of Suhry's status as the team's portal creator being threatened. Since Xinpo was able to create portals without the setup and rituals which she preferred to use, it felt as though Suhry’s additional position as transportation provider may be in question.
When Suhry asked Jarow about preparing the rituals, Jarow turned to Xinpo and inquired, "Xinpo, what rituals is she talking about?"
"I believe most portal spells require certain rituals and preparation prior to casting. It would be those which she is asking about, suzerain," Xinpo replied in his new echoey voice. "I do not require such preparations because I lack a body capable of feeling the effects of spatial travel."
Jarow had to quickly decide how to relay that information without offending Suhry further.
"So," Jarow stated shakily to the beautifully frightening Tiefling woman, "it seems that since Xinpo isn't a person in the traditional sense, he doesn't need to prepare like normal. His body doesn’t suffer the same side effects as a flesh and blood body does." Jarow tensed, ready to wince from any scathing remarks or rebukes Suhry may send her way.
Suhry's eyes flashed a more intense blue, the dark icy glow sparked in her eyes and ran along the curves of her horns before she spoke, her anger obviously flaring, but she kept her cool nonetheless. "I see," she said with a tone as cold as the color in her eyes, yet Jarow saw the corners of her mouth twitch as if she was attempting to stifle a small smile at the same time.
With that, the Tielfing turned and began to walk away, her cloak twirling in the air and whipping against Jarow as she spun. Jarow shivered, feeling as if the air in the tavern had dropped several degrees as she watched the mysterious woman saunter away.
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During her day of respite, the day in between her arrival and their imminent departure time, Jarow took the opportunity to learn more about her teammates: their history, powers, and back-stories.
The first of her revelations was that she discovered Grolluk was a native, meaning he hadn't undergone the trial of the Liminal Divide or gained a class like the rest of them. His story began as he grew into a young man on his home world.
Grolluk’s strength mostly stemmed from his massive Orcen body, but it was further enhanced by several accessories that Jarow hadn’t noticed before. On his fingers were four small rings, granting him additional resistances, power, and durability. There was also an ornate belt around his waist, which she had assumed was just part of his armor. The belt provided him with the mobility to wield and control his massive weapon with such finesse.
The weapon itself had been handed down through Grolluk’s family for generations, bestowed upon him as the clan elder’s son at the age of thirteen. The chieftain would generally wield the morningstar until their first-born child turned thirteen, when they would once again hand the weapon down to the offspring. This was an ancient tradition and part of the coming of age ceremonies on Grolluk’s homeworld.
She learned that Grolluk had been drafted into the conflict shortly after receiving the weapon due to the destruction of his clan by unknown assailants. He had been deep within their sacred mountain, engaged in a ceremony to fight an ancient dragon and obtain a piece of its horde, this being part of the aforementioned ceremonies. Upon completing his task and emerging—bloody, bruised, but garnishing one of the very rings he now wore—he found his family, friends, and entire village had been wiped out.
"I saw a strange light in the shape of a window appear before my eyes. I was still kneeling in the ashes of where my village once stood," Grolluk recounted. "The window had scribbles on it which I didn’t understand, but a sweet motherly voice spoke to me, in my head, and read the words for me. Those words said I could fight and help destroy the ones who had killed my family and friends, so I chose ‘yes.’" Although the large man shed no more tears while retelling his plight, there was still a lingering sadness and longing in his expression as he shared his tale.
Jarow continued talking with her teammates on the subject and discovered that her fellow party members shared similar tales, albeit with varying levels of memory retention. Suhry, however, staunchly refused to divulge her story; and simply remained seated at the table around which they were talking, her gaze in another direction. Although it was obvious to everyone that she was also following along as the others told their tales, albeit attempting to look as though she didn’t care.
Through Isilandra, Jarow learned that the sorceress originated from a realm separate and distinct from their current one, where ice and death reigned as the martial powers of the altered plane. Suhry's memories were murky, echoing Jarow’s own fragmented recollections. Despite this, she harbored a fervent desire to return to her homeland, clutching onto the slim hope of reclaiming her lost memories, even though the odds of doing so seemed exceedingly low.
The atmosphere of her plane differed vastly from their current environment, with only scattered pockets of oxygen providing an atmosphere where travelers could breathe. Even within these regions, the relentless chill remained an ever-present challenge to any who dared visit the icy plane, thus keeping the party from yet visiting.
In contrast, Isilandra's memory seemed the most intact of the group. She retained vivid recollections of her home world, her family, and the life she had led before, which she shared with fondness in her voice. However, the details of her perpetrated crime remained elusive to her. Nonetheless, Isilandra found a type of solace in her new life, feeling it offered more fulfillment than her past existence. Being an elf, due to the species longevity of lifespan, she feared the consequences of her past actions would still be part of the awareness of the people of her world. Thus, she chose to remain with the party in defense of the universe rather than risk returning and having to face her own people.
Mediv waved off his memories, describing a place with little land and people living on boats and flotillas. He seemed dismissive of his past, as if choosing not to dwell on it. Jarow discovered that his class was called a Shadow Acrobat, granting him significant bonuses to hit and damage when attacking from a concealed position.
She also found out that Mediv was quite the drinker, able to match Grolluk despite his smaller size. "I don’t drink often, but I can hold my liquor when the need arises," he told her, punctuating his statement with a small hiccup.
Jarow had taken the system and its windows for granted, assuming everyone was privy to its effects. However, Grolluk's tale had shown her that this wasn't the case. While none of them knew much about the interface they all shared, she learned that in some places, everyone used the interface and lived as they did now, while in others, most people went without knowledge of it. This was apparently the case with Grolluk’s world. Only when the system deemed someone worthy, as it did with him, did it intervene.
Each of them had called the windows something different when they first acquired them in their vision. Jarow learned that it was called different things in different places as well as among different species. However, calling it "The System" or "UI" was generally acceptable, and most people would understand what you meant as long as they had encountered it before.
The entire system seemed alien and unusual to Jarow on a fundamental level, yet it was also familiar and comforting in a strange way. She didn't believe her original life had The System in place, yet she also felt like elements of it were drawn from her few memories of her playing video games as a human boy. It was an unusual dichotomy, one for which she didn’t expect to find a satisfactory explanation. She queried her UI, but received no response.
She was also told that the war they were fighting wasn't necessarily against anyone or anything in particular but was a battle against the invasion of another dimension into their own. Those with classes were following the system's prompts and striving to keep the inhabitants of the other dimension out of the one in which they now lived.
Jarow struggled to fully grasp the magnitude of this information. "So, our dimension is like a bubble, and another bubble is trying to merge with ours?" she asked, searching for a clearer analogy.
"That's about the best description I've heard," Mediv replied. "It's far beyond my pay grade. I just do what the system tells me and grow stronger, enjoying moments like this when I get a break."
"This is a chance at salvation for us," he continued. "Not only are we given the opportunity to redeem ourselves, but we also become powerful heroes. That's why we follow the system so diligently. We are granted this pardon and the chance to inhabit our new bodies permanently. Well, at least until we die, which can happen rather quickly in a war zone, but…"
Mediv's words trailed off, allowing their significance to sink in. Jarow could sense how crucial this second chance was to him and the rest of their team. She assumed that since she had asked about his past, he would reciprocate with questions about hers, but they never came. She considered confiding in him, feeling that she could benefit from having a confidant, but decided her secrets could wait until he was a little more sober.
She seized the opportunity to chat with Grolluk further about being a native as the evening progressed. She discovered that although Grolluk relied more on his muscles than his brain, he wasn't unintelligent; he simply preferred simplicity.
"I don't have a fancy class like you and the others," he explained in his deep, rumbling voice. "I'm just a fighter. I use my muscles and my Dooky." He patted the large morningstar lying on his lap.
Jarow's eyebrow raised, and a smile tugged at her lips at the name of Grolluk's weapon, but he didn’t seem to notice. She assumed the word had a very different meaning on his world than what she understood "dooky" to be.
He continued without pause, "I have some abilities, but no spells or powers like you guys. My clan believed we should survive on our own strength, not tricks and magic, right Dooky?" He spoke to his weapon in what Jarow interpreted as baby talk. The sight of the huge Orc conversing with his weapon in this manner, while calling it "Dooky," was too much for Jarow to handle, and she had to excuse herself before bursting out in uncontrollable laughter.
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Suhry seemed to largely ignore Jarow, while Isilandra spent the majority of her time doting on her wife. Jarow struggled to comprehend how these two extremely different women could love each other so deeply, but their affection for each other was unmistakable. Even Suhry's gaze softened with warmth and compassion whenever she looked at the beautiful silver-eyed Elven woman.
Jarow couldn't blame the two women in their adorations toward each other in the slightest. This respite provided a rare opportunity for them to be together without the constant threat to their lives or the looming specter of dangerous inter-universal beasts they would soon likely face.
The realization that their team, now including her, was fighting against creatures from another universe finally began to sink in. Jarow had a basic understanding of the existence of multiple universes, but there was still much she didn't comprehend.
Attempting to learn more, Jarow spoke with her companion. "Xinpo, when you merged with the staff, did you gain any additional knowledge or insights? The name of the staff suggests it's another dimensional item like yourself," Jarow inquired, feeling the familiar itch at the back of her neck as Xinpo considered his response. Despite the annoyance of the sensation, it was oddly comforting for Jarow, especially since she thought she had lost him earlier.
"The staff was not sentient like I am, suzerain, but it did contain a vast amount of knowledge," Xinpo replied. "Unfortunately, I am currently unable to access that knowledge. It's as if I need some sort of key to unlock it. I apologize, suzerain. Is there a more specific question you would like to ask me?"
"No, I'm just trying to wrap my head around this whole universal interaction thing," Jarow replied with a mental sigh. "Why are the universes intruding on each other? Is there a cause for it? Isn't there some kind of mechanism supposed to prevent this from happening?"
As Xinpo also pondered Jarow’s questions, the all too familiar itchiness at the back of her neck began once more. She refrained from interrupting him with more questions while he mulled over her inquiries, the questions heavy and most likely beyond either of their comprehensions. Instead, she continued sipping her mead, staring into the glass as though the answers would manifest at the bottom.
Although she had no need to eat or drink, she wanted to test her response to the experience. Mead, she had been told, was a sweet, low-alcohol drink enjoyed by many, so she cautiously sipped on her glass, unaware if there would be any possible side effects.
She also observed Mediv performing acrobatic tricks to entertain the now-bustling locals, who had begun to pack the tavern this night. It was a change from the morning’s relatively low number of patrons, and Jarow vaguely wondered what might be going on to bring in so many people.
Xinpo’s voice sounded in her head. "These are indeed complex questions, suzerain. Given all that you have experienced, do you feel more connected to what is happening than the others?" Xinpo inquired after his time contemplating.
“That's an interesting question,” Jarow thought to herself. She hadn't really considered her role in the grander scheme of things. She had simply been navigating through whatever challenges came her way without really questioning why or if she were supposed to play a part in any larger plans. However, with her peculiar ability to return from the dead, something she hadn’t heard of anyone else having, it did make sense that she might have something more to offer, although she couldn’t imagine what it might be.
"Could I be more integral to all of this than I realized?" She inwardly pondered. "It would explain why I have had these multiple lives, and why I received this Legendary class. Do the others also perceive me as special in some way?" The question lingered in her mind, and she continued to delve deeper into it, as the familiar itching sensation returned from Xinpo contemplating the idea as well.
Lost in her introspection, Jarow was taken by surprise when Mediv suddenly grabbed her hand and asked her, "Care to dance?"
Jarow realized that music was now filling the tavern. In the corner, a small band had set up while she had been lost in her thoughts. A man of short stature now played a small set of drums with his hands, while another man, taller and somewhat portly, strummed a lute-like instrument in accompaniment. Additionally, there was a woman who shook what looked like a tambourine, but with a strange 'S' curve to its body and small silver bells attached at each end. The woman began singing, her alto voice launching into an upbeat diddy about a sailor and his choice of treasure over love.
Looking up at Mediv, who smiled politely with his sharp teeth hidden behind his thin feline lips, Jarow was shocked to realize how much time had passed while she had been lost in her contemplations. She hadn't even noticed the band coming in and setting up.
If she were honest with herself, she wasn't sure how long she had been paying more attention to her thoughts than what was happening around her. Glancing at her now empty glass of mead, as well as the now crowded table at which she sat, was a stark reminder of how long she had been sitting there immersed in her introspections.
Jarow blinked rapidly for a few moments, trying to regain her bearings as she looked up at Mediv and gave him a goofy smile. Then, she hopped off the stool where she had been seated, almost stumbling as her legs had lost circulation and struggled to support her weight. "I must have been sitting for quite a while, huh?" she joked, addressing Mediv as she stood and allowed the blood to circulate back into her legs.
Mediv simply smiled in response to her quip, then gently pulled her forward as she began to move her feet. Her slight weight hardly seemed to be a burden for him as he led them both to a cleared space near where the band had set up, forming a makeshift dance floor for the audience.
The height difference between them was stark: Jarow stood at just under four feet tall, while Mediv towered closer to six. Her gaze fell to the point where his tunic was untied, revealing a chest covered in gray and black striped fur. It was a reminder of the transformation that had occurred due to her inaction, when gifting him the sword which always hung from his waist.
She craned her neck upward to meet his tiger-like face, with fur jutting out from the sides almost like a beard, the tips a lighter gray than the rest. He was still smiling down at her, but at the angle, his top fangs were slightly visible, just sticking out from beneath his curved lips. However, Jarow knew there was no menace behind the smile, only a different perspective.
Mediv pulled her in close, and began moving his body to the staccato beat of the drums. His feet shifted back and forth, his hips swayed, and his arms guided her around the dance floor as she awkwardly tried to keep up.
As Jarow stumbled along, supported mostly by Mediv's strength, it became clear to her that while she knew the moves and stances associated with her fighting styles, she was completely unprepared to make her body move in ways that could be called 'dancing.'
But Mediv didn’t seem to mind, only smiling wider and encouraging her to continue, and Jarow found herself enjoying the experience. They continued their unconventional dance, uncaring about how they might appear to others around them, while the band played on and other patrons began to join in.
It was during the next song, a slower tune where the woman and the lute player sang a duet, that Jarow's baser instincts awoke to her circumstances. She recalled her original life as a male, most likely straight. Despite having now inhabited three female bodies, including her current one, her core identity remained that of a straight male... or did it?"
As if to underscore her heterosexual desires, memories flooded her mind of the moment she first laid eyes on Isilandra. She had been struck dumb, feeling as though she had found a soulmate or some other type of predestined lover. However, the reality of Isilandra's committed relationship with Suhry had dashed any hopes of romance between them. Yet, even now, when Jarow gazed at her, something stirred within.
She was undeniably attracted to the Elven woman. But then, she remembered her time as an Elf herself. Though she couldn’t see her own appearance back then, she had been captivated by the youthful allure of the Elven body. Could it be that she was simply more drawn to Elves?
"Don’t tell me you’ve never danced with another person," Mediv teased, snapping Jarow out of her reverie once again.
Jarow found herself at a loss for words. Dancing was completely foreign to her, and as she was having a major identity crisis, she couldn't decide whether she should feel excited by being close to Mediv while dancing, or uncomfortable while in his embrace. His hands pressed against her back, a touch that felt entirely normal in her current body, giving her a sense of connection that she appreciated and possibly even yearned for.
However, the lizard part of her brain—the part of her psyche that told her she should only be attracted to females for the purpose of mating—told her that his touch and attention were unwanted. It urged her to feel uncomfortable, almost causing her to squirm away from his grasp, to pull away and leave the situation, to go and punch a wall or something instead, something manly to reaffirm his dominance.
“I don’t think I’ve ever danced before, especially not with someone else,” she heard herself say, almost as though listening from a third person perspective. Her voice sounded sheepish and coy, even to her own ears.
Internally, Jarow cried out to Xinpo for help. “Xinpo, what should I do?” But there was no response from her longtime companion. Though she still felt the itching sensation at the back of her neck, it was notably less prominent than usual, making her wonder if he was purposely avoiding advising her on this subject, thus forcing her to deal with her own internal struggles.
“You’ve really never danced?” Mediv asked incredulously, his sharp teeth gleaming in a wide smile as she looked up at him again.
“Why am I focusing on his teeth so much?” Jarow thought to herself, still embarrassed and unsure of how she felt.
She found herself torn between wanting to escape this situation and relishing in the attention she was receiving from Mediv. Her primal-male mind urged her to assert dominance over him by pushing him away, while her female-body savored the warmth of his fur against her cheek.
She wasn’t sure if she found Mediv attractive or disliked him; rather, she grappled with conflicting feelings of attraction and her own unease. His male presence, combined with his gentle and close proximity, stirred uncertainty within her. Adding to her confusion was the fact that he was no longer fully human, his body now covered in fur.
The inconsistencies in her thoughts were glaring. While she judged Mediv for his maleness and non-human nature, she herself was no longer a human. Moreover, her past experiences as both male and female further complicated her sense of gender and identity. Despite these contradictions, she struggled to reconcile her emotions with rational judgment. She found herself clinging to primal instincts that now seemed irrelevant and illogical.
Mediv chuckled at Jarow’s inability to dance, but then looked at her with a mixture of amusement and determination. His thin lips formed a smile, and the slightly lighter gray patches of fur above his eyes, what could somewhat be considered his ‘eyebrows,’ scrunched together as he said, “Okay, young lady, let’s teach you to dance.”
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For Jarow, the next hour or so seemed to slip away quickly as Mediv patiently led her in one small dance-like move after another until she felt confident in her steps. He endured the trodden feet with the utmost decorum and simply corrected Jarow as she lumbered haphazardly under his patient tutelage.
Yet her mind churned the entire time. Not only was she learning to find a rhythm she had apparently never experienced before, but her internal debate about her gender, sexuality, and possible desires continued to rage as well.
Through it all, her body enjoyed the touch, the movement, and the companionship of receiving Mediv’s teachings, and she found herself laughing and smiling. It turned out that Mediv was not only a skilled dancer but also an excellent teacher. Not only did he display amazing patience and skill with her, but he also frequently joked and quipped in ways Jarow found very amusing. They laughed and danced and enjoyed each other’s company all evening, taking only short breaks when he went to refill his drink or recycle what he had already drunk.
The band helped as well, keeping the music upbeat to help and encourage the two of them, as well as the others who joined in the merriment. To both her and Mediv's utter disbelief, Isilandra even convinced Suhry to join them in dancing as well.
The Elven woman was, as always, a graceful whirlwind of movement; even on the dance floor it seemed. To everyone's surprise, Suhry danced in a completely complementary fashion. The two of them circled and dipped, leapt, and twirled; their movements so in sync that it was as if they intertwined and became a singular being of opposing duality. They danced unlike anything anyone in this place had ever seen before. The contrasting colors of their garb as well as their features caught all of the patrons' eyes and mesmerized the crowd as they spun in their own enchanted realm of motion.
When the song they danced to ended, the entire tavern burst into applause. Isilandra gracefully bowed, and Suhry quickly ducked away, a pale blue hue coloring her cheeks which Jarow interpreted as her blush. Without much pause, the band struck up another tune, and Isilandra attempted to coax Suhry back onto the floor. However, the sultry Tiefling declined with a shake of her head and a firm seat in her chair.
Without missing a beat, Mediv pulled Jarow over to where Isilandra stood and extended his free hand to her. Isilandra glanced at him, then at Jarow, who still clung to Mediv’s right hand, and smiled knowingly. With a gentle tug from Mediv, Isilandra twirled around and joined hands with Jarow as well, forming a dancing triad.
Isilandra’s smile seemed to illuminate the room as she faced the two of them. The beauty Jarow saw there made her heart swell and beat rapidly, swiftly dispelling any lingering feelings of awkwardness.
"She's just a beginner, take it easy on her," Mediv teased, giving Isilandra a conspiratorial wink.
Somehow, Isilandra's smile widened even further at Mediv’s playful remark. Before Jarow knew what was happening, Isilandra pulled at her arm, and the three of them began spinning in a quick circle. In moments, Jarow's feet were no longer touching the ground; the two taller beings held her aloft, twirling and bobbing in perfect synchrony with the music, lifting her with each graceful movement.
As the next few songs played, the trio's dance evolved beyond mere spinning. Similar to the intricate patterns of movement in Isilandra and Suhry's earlier dance, they weaved through intricate motions—swaying inward and outward, executing dips and small leaps. Jarow surrendered to the guidance of her partners, mimicking their movements as closely as possible, but always feeling one step behind.
Perhaps the best part of this coordinated dancing was that the debate about her identity finally subsided; her mind simply accepted she wasn’t a singular entity or gender. She was like the dance they now performed—ever turning, changing, and morphing in time with the movements and changes of the rhythm. She felt as though her existence was being held aloft by those greater than herself. Similarly, as to how she was frequently raised off the floor by Mediv and Isilandra, the best thing she could do was hold on and enjoy the ride.
In that moment, she was finally living in the present. It didn't matter who she was attracted to or what body she was in. It was as if a barrier within her own mind had broken, or perhaps the old primordial part of her brain had finally given up. She was who she was right now, with the experiences of her past and a future to look forward to. She wanted to live her best life, and if that meant enjoying the company of another person, then it didn't really matter who that person was, as long as they both found joy in each other's presence.
Jarow stayed and danced, drinking more mead and finding that she actually enjoyed the flavor quite a bit. She continued to enjoy herself well into the small hours of the night. Eventually, Suhry and Isilandra excused themselves and retreated to their room, while Grolluk had earlier found someone to spend time with and left. It was Jarow and Mediv who closed the tavern, finally retreating upstairs only hours before the dawn’s early rays began to lighten the sky.