Chapter 8
(Don’t lose your head)
"Bwa Ha Ha Ha Ha!" Jarow burst out laughing, bending over and clutching his knees as he gasped for breath between his fit of giggles. "Sorry, sorry. Your name. It's..." The sentence trailed off, and he was seized by another fit of laughter. “Ha Ha Ha.”
Several awkward moments transpired before he managed to regain control. "Ahh... sorry. Sorry, for real," he finally said, his laughter subsiding. "Well met, Sir Waggle— Nope." Jarow's lips refused to obey his commands, curling into a bemused grin before bursting apart once more, unleashing another round of uncontrollable laughter.
----------------------------------------
Sir Wagglebottom initially flinched at the outburst, raising his halberd in anticipation of an attack from Jarow as the elf burst out in such a strange and spasmodic sound that it appeared to make him double over. However, upon realizing that the assault was laughter-induced rather than a physical attack, he began to relax.
He stood and observed what looked like an adolescent elf, who lost control of himself for several minutes in his fit of laughter before the young man finally regained some semblance of composure. The elf had named himself Jarow, but the name really didn't matter to him. He was here for one reason, a reason he despised but couldn't refuse.
After several minutes, the young elf wiped the tears that had been streaming down his cheeks with the back of his hand. Once he had apparently regained control, he began to speak again, this time with more control over his faculties.
----------------------------------------
"Do you by chance have some sort of nickname or something more familiar that your peers call you?" Jarow asked. He was still somewhat recovering from his fit of laughter and knew he wouldn't be able to say the hilariously adorable name again without laughing more so needed something to call the Quigza.
"I have a given name," Sir Wagglebottom replied in a tone that told Jarow he would not be giving out the information. He drove the butt of his spear into the ground for emphasis, "but I do not disclose that information to wayward individuals like yourself."
"Wayward," Jarow echoed, half chuckling to himself while savoring the word. "Yes, that is a very accurate description." He nodded in agreement before continuing his original thought. "I guess since you have nothing else for me to call you, I should ask why you were following us, can you tell me that?"
Sir Wagglebottom sniffed the air a few times and cleared his throat. He hated this part. They always asked why, and there was an easy explanation, but he couldn’t tell them that because it would drive them away, so he told the elf the same lie he told everyone, "I was told there would be a wanderer in the The Fading Divide. I was sent to guide you to meet Boklojif." He paused for a moment, scrutinizing Jarow once again. His face betrayed a mix of distrust and displeasure towards the elf.
The word he'd used was obviously difficult to pronounce in his bark-like voice, and Jarow had no clue to whom or what the dog-knight was talking about when he said the strange word, so he decided he would have to ask.
"Who or what is this Baklava?" Jarow asked, the word difficult to recall correctly, so instead coming out as something more familiar to him, though he didn't know why or what the word he’d said meant, but it did bring with it a sweet familiarity though.
Sir Wagglebottom, annoyed at his having to re-pronounce the name as well as Jarow’s obvious mispronunciation, cleared his throat and repeated, 'Boklojif is Boklojif. Knows and sees all. Your continued stay here depends on the judgment.'"
Jarow raised an eyebrow at the implication of this Boklojif's judgment. He wasn't sure he wanted to be judged. "If he sees and knows everything, then why does this Broccoli-GIF or whatever need to judge me?" He asked, his tone less polite than before.
Despite the dark coloration of the dog-knight's eyes, which made it difficult to see movement with them, it did seemed to Jarow that Sir Wagglebottom rolled his eyes in exasperation, "That is not your concern. You will follow me and be judged."
The mood had shifted from lighthearted to serious, and a sense of distrust filled the air. Jarow debated the situation with Xinpo. "Should we follow this guy to meet this mysterious Boklojif or whatever, or should we try to make a break for it?" he asked.
"There's more to this than meets the eye," Xinpo cautioned. "How did he know to maintain the perfect distance from us? Why does he serve this Boklojif, and what exactly is it? Proceed with caution, suzerain. This Boklojif... it is a new unknown."
Jarow concurred; but there was an underlying mystery that they needed to figure out now, something that had the obvious possibility of their freedom from this place. "He seems to know how to use that weapon," Jarow also mentally noted. "I'd rather not try and fight him, I don’t know if I could win."
"That is certainly a keen observation, suzerain. Also, the way he eyed me earlier," Xinpo warned, "I'm certain he'd remove me from your lifeless body. So even if you return in another form to retrieve me, I would be gone." A shiver of unease ran down Jarow's spine as he felt Xinpo's mental tremor.
They both agreed that it would be unwise to attempt to fight or flee, which left the only option as following Sir Wagglebottom to meet this Boklojif, whatever it might be.
"Okay then, I guess I have no choice but to follow you. Lead the way, Sir Wagglebottom," Jarow managed to say without bursting into giggles. But he still couldn't help but chuckle under his breath after saying the name. He was proud of himself, though. He had been able to say "Wagglebottom" without losing complete control.
The Quigza nodded in brief acknowledgment and slowly turned to walk further down the hallway. There were still too many questions and possibilities to the situation, though, so both he and Xinpo’s nerves remained on edge as they began to follow.
On the one hand, it was nice to be moving forward. Jarow still felt the urge to open some of the doors as they moved further down the hallway, but he kept walking, his hope for an exit overriding his curiosity.
Following the adorable dog-knight as he strode down the hall, Jarow clearly heard his small nails clicking rhythmically against the floor as his small legs moved rapidly to cover the ground at roughly the same speed as Jarow walked.
Sir Wagglebottom's sword would occasionally bump against the floor as he strode forward, causing a metallic scraping sound. The combination of sounds finally completed the puzzle of what Jarow had heard before: the sounds which had caused such frightening imagery to fill his mind earlier, before finally facing his fears and instead finding an adorable, if not somewhat intimidating, Quigza waiting for him inside the fog.
The hallway felt stark and depressing, as always, but the prospect of finally finding a way out kept Jarow moving. He may have to face the judgment of Boklojif, and was still unsure what exactly this thing was or what that would entail. But because of his inability to determine what was going to happen when that arrived, his anxiety churned at the back of his mind as a warning and kept his senses focused.
To take full advantage of the time before meeting the Boklojif, Jarow took the opportunity to ask Xinpo a few questions he had neglected earlier. It didn't seem like the Quigza was in much of a mood for talking anyway. "Xinpo," he began, "what is the Passe-partout ability you gained? I forgot to ask before."
"Passe-partout is my ability to transform into a master key," Xinpo explained. "When I use it, I will revert to my key form, but I will then be able to open any door or unlock any lock." He paused for a moment before continuing. "There seems to be more information to the skill, but I am unsure what it is or how to describe it at the moment. I apologize for my shortcomings, suzerain."
Jarow contemplated Xinpo's words. He had seen or felt the additional information just out of reach when exploring his own available skills and abilities, so he could relate to what Xinpo was talking about. It seemed there was more to their powers than what either of them could initially grasp. Jarow began to wonder if the powers would evolve or change with time or level, or if it were their own ability to use the skills better which would cause the additional information to become available.
"No worries, that's a very cool ability. I'm sure it'll prove to be incredibly useful," Jarow reassured the blade, wanting him to understand he didn't have shortcomings to apologize for.
A brief pause occurred, accompanied by a slight sense of confusion, before Xinpo spoke again. "I am unsure how a skill can have a temperature, or why a cold temperature evokes praise, suzerain," Xinpo responded in a questioning tone.
Jarow had to think about what he had just said. "Oh, yeah. I said ‘it's cool’, didn't I? That's an expression from where I am from, at least I assume it is. It means it's good, I think." Jarow was now also starting to struggle to understand why he had used that expression.
"I see," Xinpo replied. "A colloquialism. Very good, suzerain. You are very cold yourself."
Jarow chuckled. "Thanks, Xinpo."
Xinpo continued, not truly picking up on Jarow's amusement, "I can sense something emanating from Sir Wagglebottom, or perhaps more accurately, from his surroundings. I'm unsure, but I believe it's one of his weapons or possibly his armor. There's some..." Xinpo struggled for the right word. "Magical qualities, perhaps? That is another reason why I warned you to be cautious earlier, suzerain. There's more to this individual than meets the eye."
That was something Jarow hadn't anticipated. Although, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised since he himself was carrying a sentient dagger in his hand. Why shouldn't Sir Wagglebottom have some sort of magical weapon as well? Then, a realization struck him.
"Could he have a weapon similar to you? I mean, a person in a weapon, I mean..." He struggled to find the right words to describe Xinpo's state and trailed off in search of the correct terminology.
"Yes, that does make sense. If his weapon possesses a similar sensing ability to mine, then he would know precisely how far to stay away and would also have been aware of our movements. Brilliant deduction, suzerain!" Xinpo answered, seemingly unfazed by Jarow's inability to put into words the dagger's state of existence.
Jarow nodded in agreement with Xinpo's line of reasoning. It also explained why his sneak attempt had been successful, yet Sir Wagglebottom still managed to follow them. This certainly made things more intriguing. He contemplated asking Sir Wagglebottom the name of his weapon, but he doubted he would receive an answer, even if he were correct in his assumption.
They continued to walk along in silence for several minutes longer. The fog and hallway, which from Jarow's perception was the only place he had ever been and the only place he could remember, remained unchanging. But then something suddenly changed, as if by magic, the fog dissipated, revealing a large room with a huge door looming large in the center.
This door dwarfed the ones lining the hallway, towering over Jarow by a good twenty feet and at least half as wide as well. It stood in the center of the spacious room, which had enough open area before the door to accommodate both doors being opened fully as well as a hundred people standing before them.
The walls and tall ceiling initially looked like they were composed of the same gray substance as the hallway, but Jarow almost instantly felt there was something more substantive about this room as well. The floor felt textured. The walls were less flat. There was an obvious difference in material here: the flat, pixelated hallway was stark and fake, whereas this place seemed more real.
Jarow examined the walls as he entered the room, dragging his fingers along them as he moved forward. While the difference was subtle, his elven eyes easily picked out the discolorations and slight textures. This place was made of actual stone, not just an image of stone. It was an actual place, not something digitally created.
Jarow's mind reeled: he had known all along that the hallway wasn't real, or at least not real in the way he could understand. But it was still solid and tangible. This new room, with its undeniable realness, shifted his perception, amplifying the hallway's unreality even further. He questioned how he had existed within that analog corridor now.
His feet slapped lightly against the stone floor as he crossed the threshold, and he felt the chill of the stone seep into his soles. The subtle variations in texture beneath his feet sparked a new awareness of possibility in his mind.
Looking back, he could clearly see the line of demarcation. The world around him had become significantly more real, even though the only perceptible change was the addition of actual stone. This new room gave Jarow a strange sense of completeness whereas the hallway he’d been trapped in before felt lifeless and empty.
As he drew closer, Jarow realized the two doors would swing open from the middle on hinges located to each side. He also saw that the wood of the doors was similar to that of the small cell doors from the hallway. This brought a new round of confusion with it. He had seen the doors in the hallway, touched the wood; they were actual wood, not a pixelated version. The doors had been one of the few things there which had felt real to Jarow all along.
His mind had simply accepted the strangeness of the hallway before, but now, as he could feel actual stone around him, see the wood and metal of the doors, feel their realness, his mind began to understand just how strange it was to have something real within a digital place. The mixture of digital and solid was something Jarow couldn't truly comprehend.
He continued to stare at the door while the gears in his brain struggled to continue to rotate. He dimly noticed the adornments, the change in motif. This huge door was adorned with an intricate vine-like pattern with small birds and leaves running along the wood. The entire fresco was made of the same ugly metal as was on the cell doors, which finally made Jarow realize the metal along the doors in the hallway was real as well.
While he didn’t have any knowledge of stone, and so had no issues with walking upon it, Jarow realized this body did have an inordinate dislike for metal, especially the metal within this place. He had internally felt it the entire time while in this body, but along with the new sense of reality this place offered, came an even stronger dislike of the blackish oxidized metal covering the wood of the huge doors. In fact, he realized that he had an ingrained dislike for nearly all types of metal with the sole exception of a white-silver metal his mind identified as mithril.
A brief vision of a sword crafted from this gleaming mithril flashed in his mind, accompanied by an unusual surge of desire and longing. He didn't particularly care for swords, at least he didn’t think he did, but something about the one in his mind resonated with this body and caused a deep yearning, something telling him he wouldn’t be whole until he held his mithril sword in his hands.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
The image faded and Jarow’s mind slowly refocused on the door in front of him and the small dog knight who now stood in front of it. He wasn't sure what had just happened or how long the vision had actually lasted, but nothing seemed to have changed. The longing feeling diminished and left Jarow with more questions than anything, questions he had no idea where to even begin looking for answers.
Sir Wagglebottom approached the door and turned his head to look at Jarow once again before raising his spear. He gave a derisive sniff before turning back to the large barrier.
Jarow could see no keyhole. There were no handles or knockers. Even if there were, his diminutive companion wouldn't be able to reach them. A vision of a swinging cut-out style doggy door came to his mind, and he almost began laughing, his stomach muscles spasming in anticipation of a chuckle.
Sir Wagglebottom stood before the giant door and raised his spear. He nodded, and the weapon began to change. It shrank; the wood of the shaft darkened and turned into a dark gray metal. The point, which had looked like a small axe, quickly morphed into a skeleton key with two teeth at the end.
“That looks familiar,” Jarow told Xinpo mentally.
“Yes, it does,” Xinpo replied.
Once the halberd had morphed into a key, Sir Wagglebottom touched it to the door. A bright flash of light emanated from the tip before splitting into two streams of what resembled a glowing golden plasma. One stream traveled upwards and the other downwards, each tracing a straight vertical line. One line stopped at the bottom of the door, and the other stopped roughly four feet above the ground on the opposite side. Then, the light divided again.
The streams split, branching out like intricate golden veins across the door's surface, pausing four feet apart. They then abruptly turned, facing back in their original direction, and the streams began to converge towards each other, eventually meeting in the middle.
A glowing outline of a small square door materialized before the knight. He gave the key a twist, and the miniature door sprang open on four newly formed hinges of light with a small clicking sound.
"Wow!" Jarow exclaimed, his jaw dropping at the sight of the magical door the key had just activated. Internally, he questioned Xinpo if he could also perform such a feat.
"I believe that is similar to my Passe-partout ability, suzerain," Xinpo answered. His attention was also drawn to the magic before them, so he didn't elaborate further.
Sir Wagglebottom turned back to Jarow and motioned for him to enter first with his hand. "Move through; I will follow."
Jarow had to duck in order to see through the newly opened doorway before proceeding. Beyond was a large, well-lit room with a red and white tiled floor. He couldn't see much beyond that due to the small, Quigza-sized opening.
He looked at Sir Wagglebottom and grinned. His head was now at the same height as the schnauzer-like man.
"You're a good boy," he couldn't help but say to the dog-knight, his voice slightly elevating in pitch at the end.
Unbeknownst to Sir Wagglebottom, his tails, which hung out behind the armor he wore, began to wag. Jarow smiled profusely, but he could see no other hint of happiness from Sir Wagglebottom. In fact, Jarow thought he could just hear a small growl from the Quigza.
Jarow really wanted to give Sir Wagglebottom some scratches. In his imagination, by doing so, he would learn useful information about what was going on from the adorable Quigza. "Waggy" Jarow thought to himself in his imaginary scenario, "Every goodest boy needs a pet name. I should call him Waggy."
Jarow knew it was unfortunately not the right time to play with the armored puppy, although he desperately wanted to; the low, menacing growl made that abundantly clear. However, he wasn't quite ready to just walk into a new place where he knew something was waiting to judge him.
He knew his attempt to befriend the schnauzer-like person was stalling, but he had no better idea. Jarow's mind desperately tried to find another way out of the situation, but there was none he could see.
Waggy's spear was still shrunken down in key form, but his sword, barely larger than Xinpo, still hung from his belt. Although attacking the Quigza now might offer Jarow the best chance of escape or even getting Waggy to submit, the thought of fighting him was extremely distasteful. He just didn't have the stomach to harm this adorable creature, especially not when the alternative was becoming a chew toy for those sharp teeth he’d glimpsed earlier.
Which was entirely possible, and far more likely Jarow concluded. He had no clue how old Waggy was or what combat experience he hid beneath that furry exterior, but he was painfully aware of his own lack of skills.
Mentally, and physically, Jarow wore a huge grin. He was quickly learning more about himself and that he apparently had a great fondness for dogs, which was either a part of this new body's programming or just one of his general personality traits. He struggled to reconcile his desire to give Waggy scritches with the need to treat him with respect.
The pointy stick he had held before was a pretty good deterrent, but now that it was a key rather than a halberd, the temptation grew. If it weren't for the armor and the sword hanging from the Quigza's belt, Jarow felt sure he would be rolling on the ground playing with and getting love back from the cute little guy. (At least that’s what Jarow’s imagination told him)
Sadly, Jarow couldn't bring himself to either fight the Quigza or try to enamor himself to him. Instead, he looked away and sighed, his smile fading as he began moving through the small door. His indecision and fear kept him from taking any further actions in the situation.
In the end, he decided he might as well get this over with. He secretly hoped the Boklojif was just another bigger puppy. If that were the case, maybe Jarow could talk his way into a big fur-pile with a bunch of dog-people like Waggy. He mentally chuckled at the ridiculous images that flitted through his head from the thought. The absurdity kept the resignation at bay.
----------------------------------------
Jarow stepped through the small door and into the large room. It appeared to be an old-fashioned grand meeting hall, not the type where tribesmen would meet to eat a huge meat feast and drink themselves stupid, but more like the type where fancy royal balls would be held with ladies in voluminous skirts and men in tights dancing to string quartets.
From what Jarow could tell, the walls were made of a whitish stone and lined with ornate lanterns or lamps of some kind. The lights coming from them didn't look like actual flames, though, but more like a solid, yellow-hued light.
Large, brass-colored metal columns towered along each side of the massive room, creating a delineation or a sense of there being a separate yet invisible hallway along each wall. The pillars towered higher than the doorway and reached up to meet the ceiling, which was an odd but somewhat beautiful mixture of white and blue paint. It appeared as though it had been painted abstractly to mimic or resemble a sky and clouds, yet lacked pristine details, the images being twisted and unusual, as though whoever had created the artwork had never truly seen an actual sky.
More of the strange lamps were attached to the brass columns, their light reflecting off the metal and creating streaks of vivid gold across the tiled floor. Below the ceiling, but high above any normal person's reach, white crystals floated, casting a pale light that eliminated all shadows from the columns and corners. In all, there seemed to be no place where darkness could linger.
At the opposite end of the hall, a large mass sat hidden beneath a khaki-colored canvas tarp. Jarow couldn't see what lay beyond, but a small girl with pink wings and pale skin sat atop it. The room's vastness made it difficult for Jarow to make out the details from afar.
Jarow stood transfixed, taking in the scene. This place not only evoked a sense of wonder and awe but also surprised him with its stark contrast to the gloomy hallway he’d just left. The overwhelming brightness of the light caused his eyes to strain as they adjusted.
A furry paw nudged his right buttock, jolting him from his stupor and prompting him to step forward. As far as he could tell, he, Waggy, and the pink-winged girl were the only occupants of this grand hall. Slowly Jarow began walking forward, unsure of his destination or what awaited him.
The floor stretched out before them, well over five hundred paces, and it took almost five minutes to finally arrive close enough to the girl for Waggy to be heard.
“I, Sir Wagglebottom, have returned. I bring with me this person who calls himself Jarow,” Waggy announced loudly.
Jarow froze at the sound of Waggy's voice. It had taken on a more formal tone, which made Jarow wonder just who this strange-looking girl was to the Quigza. He stared closer at the girl, trying to discern any clues to her identity.
She wore nothing but a small white shift to cover her body. It had no discernible pattern or stitching; in fact, if Jarow didn't know better, he would have thought it was just a larger bleached version of the blankets from the cells. She wore no shoes or any other accessories either and looked to be only in her teens. Her platinum blonde hair flowed loosely down the back of her neck in waves, but it also glowed in a multitude of colors, the rainbow of colors seamlessly mixed in with her own locks like streamers attached but distinctly separate from her actual hair.
Her face was cute, having the roundness and softness of youth. She had decorated it with orange swathes on her cheeks and above her eyes. She also had stained pink lips that matched her ethereal wings, which occasionally flitted slightly behind her back.
She smiled as Jarow approached, and Jarow returned the smile. He felt an immediate attraction to the little fairy-like girl. He wasn't certain if the emotion was due to his own sensibility or merely a product of the pubescent elven body he was occupying.
“He awaits your judgment, Boklojif,” Waggy finished saying.
"So this is the big bad Boklojif, huh? Doesn't look too scary," Jarow thought to himself, communicating the observation to Xinpo.
The fairy-girl's pink wings began to flutter, and she quickly rose from the pile and floated lazily toward where Jarow stood. She circled him a few times, flying around and taking in all his details, before finally stopping right in front of his face. She was close, closer than what Jarow felt comfortable with, but he held his ground as she looked deep into his eyes.
"You're cute. It's too bad," the fairy-girl finally spoke. Her voice could only be described as both cute and vicious at the same time, with a high pitch but an accent of nonchalance. The intonation she had used to say the words left Jarow feeling more like a piece of cake than a person.
She turned around and zipped back up to the tarp-covered pile. "Boklo! He's here."
Jarow's eyebrow rose as he watched the strange fairy-girl float away. Then his eyes opened wide, and his eyebrows rose even higher as she seemingly called out to someone else named... Boklo?
“I thought ‘she’ was Boklojif,” Jarow thought to himself, but mentally spoke in a way Xinpo could hear as well. “I guess there’s someone else behind the tarp? Does that mean her name is just Jif?”
“Suzerain, I feel I should inform you that Sir Wagglebottom just started running away extremely fast,” Xinpo said. “I believe it may be prudent to do the same.”
“What do you mean?” Jarow asked. He glanced back to see the Quigza swiftly moving in a direction away from where he had been standing moments ago. When Jarow’s eyes returned to look at the girl, he quickly began to understand why the Quigza was doing so.
“I couldn’t sense anything under the tarp…” Xinpo began to say.
The tarp moved. More specifically, the very large creature underneath the tarp began to move, which caused the tarp to shift and reveal the aforementioned creature.
Jarow stood frozen, paralyzed by a mix of fear, curiosity, and self-evaluation. A sliver of hope clung to the back of his mind, whispering that the Boklojif wasn’t going to harm him. But that hope quickly faded.
The fairy-girl buzzed up near his ear, unnoticed by Jarow. His attention was now fully consumed by the creature emerging from beneath the tarp.
"Hi, I'm Jif. Sorry you have to die so quickly, but Boklo really likes to chase his prey. So would you mind running?" Jif said in her high-pitched, melodic yet sinister voice. Her words took a moment for Jarow to register.
He turned to look at the small girl, unsure if he had heard correctly. He saw her cute, round little face smiling at him. Then she opened her mouth, but instead of a smile, a mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth was displayed. Not just one row, but three. Saliva dripped down her chin, and her eyes turned yellow before she screamed at him, "RUN!"
Jarow's brain finally caught up to what was happening around him. He turned away from the uncovering creature and the evil fairy grinning wickedly near his head. Without further hesitation or even looking at where he was headed, Jarow dashed from where he stood and ran for the exit.
He wasn't sure where he would go or what he would do once he got there, but he knew he needed to get away. Fear took hold like a chain of ice around his soul, and it felt like all he could do was keep himself breathing and running at the same time.
He heard a begrudging roar reverberating from behind him and knew it must be Boklo finally escaping his napping spot. Jarow hadn't been able to see the thing in its full glory before bolting, but he did notice a few things as he stood mindlessly watching it as it extracted itself from the tarp.
The first thing he noticed was that the creature was actually bipedal, meaning it had only two legs. The second thing was that it only had one eye. It was a very large eye, but definitely only one. It had opened it and stared right at Jarow. The iris was, interestingly enough, colored pink, very similar to Jif's wings. He also noticed streaks of orange in the sclera of the large eye as well. There was definitely a matching color scheme going on between the two beings.
Jarow continued to run, but before he could cover even half the length of the large, ornate hall, he heard and felt Boklo roar for real. The sound boomed through the space, shaking the lights hanging on the walls. Jarow felt it vibrate through his bones, almost causing him to stumble.
You are afraid. The [- Fear -] debuff is in effect: Resistances are lowered by 20%. You will take an additional 20% damage from all attacks. You are unable to take any actions other than: [- Run -] Duration: 1 minute.
Jarow saw the red window appear in front of him, but he took no time to read it. He dismissed it as soon as it popped up. In his upper right bar, where the outline of his body was, he saw the icon turn gray and wavy. The word "fear" was illuminated in the same gray color underneath the circular window. A gray timer also appeared under his normal timer, counting down from one hundred.
None of these changes registered in Jarow's mind, though. His focus was on getting as far away as possible. He could see the end of the hall now and wanted nothing more than to be there and to duck through the small door, which he could still see was open where Waggy had placed it. Anything after achieving that goal was beyond his current foresight.
Luckily, Xinpo did not suffer from such debuffs and could still think clearly, although the large cyclopian creature was far enough away that his aura could not sense it. The fairy, Jif, on the other hand, was flitting along behind Jarow as he ran.
It felt as though she were taunting or playing with him. She swayed back and forth in her flight, twisting and turning in mid-air, basking in the enjoyment of the chase. While Xinpo technically couldn't 'see', his aura allowed him to sense a large amount of detail in the dome his aura senses covered. That is how he knew Jif's mouth was open in a wide smile and that she was giggling with excitement.
Onward Jarow moved, one foot in front of the other. He briefly registered a glint of light shining off a silvery piece of metal behind one of the large columns. He recognized it as Sir Wagglebottom. He wasn't sure if the dog-knight was hiding from the large cyclops monster or simply taking shelter from whatever was going to happen during this engagement, either way Jarow felt no ill will towards the Quigza as it seemed as though he was as afraid as Jarow felt himself.
Jarow's mind wasn't clear, though. His only thoughts were: run away from the big monster, get through the door, and don't die. So, anything beyond escape was sadly missed in his mad dash, including the thought of maybe joining Waggy in hiding behind one of the columns.
Unfortunately Xinpo’s aura didn't extend upwards as much as it did outwards. Its shape was more of a dome surrounding him, but this dome had a low ceiling, extending more outwards than upwards. It did extend upwards about thirty feet, which had been more than enough while in the hallway, but since this place was exceptionally tall, he wasn't able to sense the incoming projectile until much too late.
"Turn, Suzerain!" he screamed into Jarow's mind as soon as something penetrated his sphere of senses.
Jarow understood the words, but didn't grasp their meaning until much too late. In fact, it wasn't until a large object slammed into his right shoulder that the words finally sunk in.
Whatever had hit Jarow had spun him around several times, causing him to crash headlong into and then slide along the slippery tile floor.
It took Jarow several moments to reorient himself after the fall. Once he did, he realized that his head was hurting badly and that his right side burned like it had been dipped in liquid magma, losing functionality. His slowly focusing eyes looked up to see the pink fairy-girl floating high above him, a gobbet of her spittle splat against his cheek.
“Good shot, B!” Jarow heard the fairy-girl's voice yell from somewhere above him.
He could also feel the floor shaking beneath him, each ripple shooting pain through his burning side and causing his body to twitch.
Thud, Thud. The vibrations brought both a small semblance of clarity to Jarow’s concussed brain as well as a renewed sense of danger. In his vision, the gray icon of his body still showed waves of gray due to the fear debuff, but it now also flashed dark red along the right side, the crimson coloring extending from his head to his hip.
The fear debuff wouldn't allow Jarow to stop attempting to escape. Its requirement for him to run outweighed his other options. Even though what Jarow really needed to do was stop and reassess the situation, his body began moving on its own accord. He somehow managed to get back to his feet, even though his right side had seemed incapable of movement only seconds ago.
As his body attempted to continue its mad dash to the exit, Jarow made the mistake of looking in the direction of the incoming booming footsteps. He could now see the large cyclops in its fully upright posture.
The huge cyclops stood almost thirty feet tall, and Jarow wondered if it would fit through the massive doors to this room. Its legs were squat in comparison to its size, though, and its arms extended almost to the ground. Jarow's mind conjured an image of a large, grayish monkey-like creature, the name of which he couldn't recall due to the fear debuff and its single-mindedness, but the similarity in shape was obvious, even to his fear-clouded mind.
Rather than the dark gray coloring of the creature in Jarow's mind, this cyclops had stringy red hair covering its body down to its knuckles. It wore what looked like faded blue denim overalls over its bulging stomach and lower body, but its feet remained exposed. These were short, wide clodhoppers with, if possible, even thicker red hair that appeared to grow out from the top of the feet and fall over the sides, covering everything but the toes, which ended in gnarly, sharp nails.
It was ugly. The singular eye dominated its wrinkled, fleshy face. Although it had a mouth, it was relatively small compared to the size of its eye. Yet, it was still large enough that the monster could probably fit Jarow's entire torso inside. Its teeth jutted up out of its lips, and while the yellow tusks didn't look especially sharp, Jarow had a notion that if impaled on one, he wouldn't be worrying about how easily they slid through his flesh anyway.
The skin beneath its large, scraggly beard was a mottled orange-brown, spotted with liver spots and what looked like acne scarring. The only place where the skin could be truly seen well was at the top of the creature's head, which was bald except for a few stray hairs. The discolorations and pitting continued all the way up and over the creature's skull.
The thing moved deceptively quickly for having such stubby legs. Within a few seconds, the time it took Jarow to realize he needed to run again, it had closed the distance created by Jarow's previous fear-driven sprint.
A sickeningly sweet and frightful giggle greeted Jarow as he turned his attention away from Boklo to try and run once again. Jif had lowered herself and now floated in front of him, blocking his immediate path. "Nu-uh. Can't go this way!" she said, smiling, with her sharp teeth showing beneath her unnaturally pink lips.
It took Jarow a few slippery, painful steps, but he began moving once again. His trajectory changed due to Jif's location in front of him, and he aimed for the side of the hall rather than the back. He tried to angle himself back once he had moved away from her a small distance, but Jif moved along with him to block his progression. Her pink wings buzzed quickly as she flew alongside, making a buzzing sound as if Jarow was being followed by a particularly persistent insect.
He kept his eyes on both the fairy-girl and the large door at the end of the hall, which is why he didn't see the large hand that easily curled around and scooped him up.
As if the realization that he was caught uncorked Jarow's ears, he could once again hear Xinpo, his screams of danger turning to pangs of sadness.
"Jarow, suzerain. I am sorry. I tried to warn you," Xinpo spoke in a defeated tone.
The fear debuff was still present, but since Jarow’s mind finally accepted that there was no longer a way for him to escape, clarity returned to him.
"It's okay, Xinpo. Thanks for trying. I couldn’t hear you for some reason, but if I don't get to..." Jarow's thought-speak was abruptly cut off at that point as Boklo bit down on Jarow’s neck and easily tore his head from his body.
The large ape-like creature then spat out the head like a discarded cherry pit. The bloody, decapitated head soared through the air, and Jif merrily chased after it giggling with excitement. With outstretched arms, she caught the skull mid-air and did a flip, as though she had leapt and dove to make the game-winning catch. The crimson liquid flowed freely, soaking into her white dress and creating a Rorschach-like pattern down the front. She raised the head high above her, and then struck a game-winning pose before spiking the blood-covered cranium to the ground. It hit the floor hard with a thud, a crack, and a squelch.
"We win, Boklo!" Jif screamed and clapped merrily after performing a small mid-air victory dance.
Boklo responded by tearing off an arm with his teeth and smiling at his diminutive pink companion as he chomped down with a hungry grin.