Chapter 9
(She hulk?)
You have died.
Initializing. . .
New body found. Beginning transfer. . .
Transfer complete
“Aaaahhh!” Jarow screamed as he sat bolt upright, the world spun around him. His head was swirling with blurry images of pink and orange. Blurred figures danced in his vision, their faces a kaleidoscope of shifting pinks and oranges, causing a frightening whirlwind of chaos and color mixed in with half remembered events and people.
His eyes were open but blurry, seeing but not interpreting what he saw before him until they finally found a focus and Jarow’s brain caught up to the realization of where he was actually located. His eyes lighted on a familiar wooden door which was standing open and led to an extremely familiar hallway on the other side.
“Holy shit!” Jarow cursed and recoiled from the unfamiliar wound. His voice, his once melodic elven voice, had been replaced with something deep and resonant with a peculiar lisp. It was definitely not what he expected to hear, and the unfamiliarity startled him.
Jarow, his brain slowly awakening to his circumstances and where he was, looked down at his new, fourth body. Memories of his previous lives flooded back, the last of which was ended with him viewing the inside of a very large wet mouth.
A sadness fell over him as he lamented the loss of his last life. He had really liked that body, so fresh and new, full of energy and vigor, and its voice had been so beautiful. With a sigh Jarow accepted that his last body was lost and began to explore his new body.
"What in the…" Jarow began as she brought her hands up to her chest. "I have boobs!" Jarow grabbed and then lightly squeezed her newly found breasts. "They're real! I’m, I mean, I, I am a girl!" Jarow gave his new found dirty pillows a good squeeze.
The sensation was enjoyable to be sure, but not quite what she expected. The feel of her own hands was less than what she imagined someone else’s would be, not to mention that squeezing her own breasts seemed less fun than what he imagined squeezing someone else's would feel like.
Jarow couldn't believe her eyes, or hands! She opened her eyes wide and took a better look at this new body to get a better understanding of who and what she actually was this time.
The skin was unusual, hairless, thick, and "Green?" The word escaped her mouth involuntarily.
She heard herself speak, but it was odd and came out in an almost muffled way, like there was something obscuring her from being able to talk correctly. So Jarow moved a hand up to feel at her face in order to inspect her mouth to find out what was causing the impediment.
There she found, jutting up from her lower gums, two elongated teeth, no, not teeth: tusks. Her fingers traced along the thick, elongated teeth feeling the smoothness of the enamel until her fingers reached the tips which jutted forward away from her jaw and upward. They stuck out a good two inches past her lips, the points sharp.
She couldn't fathom what was going on and felt a panic attack coming on, her chest beating rapidly and her breathing coming in quick gulps. The unfamiliarity of her new body overwhelming her sense of reason.
Then a word came into her brain along with a brief description and explanation, an impromptu information dump the likes of which she'd experienced before. The word, which in her mind now glowed like a star, was "Orc," and she instantly knew who and what she was. She had been placed inside the body of a female Orc.
"Holy shit," she spoke again. This time, her deep voice with its unusual impediment made much more sense and Jarow had less trouble with the way she sounded.
She quickly recalled her previous bodies and experiences. First, an old human, probably a video game player from the body and the lingering desire to check everything possible. Then, a young elf with amazingly acute senses and the voice of an angel.
"Now, I’m an Orc? I was really beginning to think these bodies would only get better," she thought to herself. She was only thinking of appearance though, and hadn’t yet taken in the rest of her new self.
The thought of this body being less desirable didn't truly resonate with her, though. She shook her head to clear away the negativity before looking down at her body once again, this time trying to look beyond her breasts and green skin, to see what this body truly offered.
She looked closer and could see that this body was big. Not fat big, either, like the male human body she'd had when she arrived here. Instead, this body had huge, bulging muscles all over the place. Her thighs alone were as big around as her entire elven body had been. Her feet were slender but strong with a high arch, and even they looked like they had more muscles than usual. Muscles seemed to stack upon muscles, running down and around her entire body. Unlike the elven body, where muscles were small and compact, these muscles bulged out in excess.
Jarow couldn't imagine the amount of exercise and training it must have taken to achieve this amount of muscle mass. She rubbed her finger across her abs, which were hard as a rock and held at least ten different stacks of tightly corded muscle. But her finger didn't stop there. As Jarow watched and moved her finger lower, she finally allowed herself to take in her lady parts.
She had, of course, never seen lady parts before. She had a general idea of what they were and how they worked, but had never before had access to them, either on herself or another body, at least that she could remember. She had always been a male. This was a completely new set of knowledge and sensations, not to mention a new perspective, and one she was a little tentative yet excited to explore.
She shifted her body, trying to get a more viewable position around her large breasts, when a blue notification window popped into her view and momentarily stole away her attention.
Returning: - Xinpo: Dimensional key (soulbound item)
As soon as she finished reading the message, a metallic sound rang out from between her legs. She dismissed the message and looked down between her knees to find a metal key laying on the ground in front of her.
"Dzinpo!" she loudly spoke, but she misarticulated the name due to her large tusks. She grabbed hold of the key and pulled it to her chest, her previous exploration forgotten by the excitement of having her companion returned.
"Suzerain, is that you? I mean... I know it's you, but in that body?" Xinpo spoke, frustration and confusion evident in the tone of his mental voice.
"I know, isn't it weird?" Jarow spoke aloud. She was finding that she didn't dislike her new voice, but it still sounded extremely odd and would take some getting used to.
"Weird" is one way of putting it, I suppose. I am certainly glad I don't need to breathe, else I would be suffocating between these large..." The key trailed off, not wanting to inadvertently say the wrong thing.
She laughed and released the key from in between her breasts. She stared at it with a huge tusked grin crossing her face. "How did you get here? I thought I lost you."
"I am uncertain, suzerain. I was wedged within the grip of Boklo. I could 'see' what transpired." Xinpo paused for a moment, not wanting to fully elaborate on the happenings after Jarow's demise. "Everything went dark after that. The next thing I knew, I was hitting this floor. My log tells me nothing useful, unfortunately."
"Yeah, I don't get much information when I die either, just a long blank space in my log," Jarow said with some annoyance, assuming Xinpo's pause in speech was due to not being able to remember rather than not wanting to tell her how her last body had been dismembered.
She would like to at least know the circumstances and delay between her reincarnations, but unfortunately, the mysterious blank, yet not quite blank, areas in her log still remained inaccessible to her.
The thought did make her want to check her character sheet to see how many changes there were now, since she was an Orc rather than an elf.
Name: Jarow
Level: [- 2 -]
Age: 24 (current)
Race: Orc (current)
Gender: Female (current)
Attributes: (current)
Strength [- 9 -] (+4 racial bonus)
Dexterity [- 5 -]
Constitution [- 9 -] (+4 racial bonus)
Intelligence [- 3 -]
Wisdom [- 3 -]
Charisma [- 4 -] (-1 racial disadvantage)
Skills:
Sneak Intermediate (racial skill *)[- inaccessible -]
Dagger Beginner
Abilities:
Minor Heal 6 HP = 2 + 4(Charisma bonus)
Power Blow Increased accuracy by: 20% - Increased damage by: 20% - Increased critical hit chance by: 20%
Jarow stared in astonishment at the changes her character sheet had undergone. Being an Orc felt like it was indeed a big improvement, at least in her humble opinion. Yes, the negative Charisma wasn't ideal, but otherwise, she didn't think her stats looked bad at all.
Jarow looked over the new ability she had gained: Power Blow added a sizable amount of punch to her attack. She looked further into the ability and a small window appeared floating above her character sheet.
Power Blow: this ability, when activated at the start of an attack, will immediately activate the offered bonuses by providing visual insight to achieve maximum effectiveness.
While Jarow didn’t quite understand what the description meant by a visual insight, she now looked forward to using the skill even more. "Too bad the Shlazak is dead; I'll bet that by using Power Blow, I could have taken it out in one shot," she thought to herself as she closed the small information window.
Losing her Sneak skill was unfortunate, though. Noticing the small asterisk beside the description, she mentally asked for additional information similarly to how she had asked to learn more about Power Blow. A similar window popped up above her character sheet.
[- Sneak -] Sneak is a general skill and can be learned by any species or race. Elves gain the sneak skill as a racial bonus. In addition to automatically acquiring the sneak skill, the elven racial bonus adds an additional 25% sound dampening effect.
She read, then re-read the entry. If she was understanding this correctly, she could gain the skill again, but since she hadn’t actually learned the skill in the first place, instead gained it as a racial bonus, that is why it was inaccessible to her now.
The skill she gained in her last body also added the twenty five percent sound dampening. “That’s why I could never hear my own footsteps.” She thought to herself. “I’ll bet if I start sneaking around I’ll get the skill back.”
She looked down at her naked body again. While she liked what she saw and could only imagine what this body could do, she didn’t think sneaking around was going to be her style anymore.
Her thoughts of exploring her new body from before seemed inappropriate now with Xinpo here, so Jarow looked around the barren cell, but there was no blanket to be found. She recalled the door being ajar as well and concluded that she must be in one of the cells she had previously opened.
She would have taken the small, threadbare blankets from many cells in her previous incarnations, in fact she might need to go back in the unending direction to find one to cover up with. "It's going to take more than one to cover this body," she amended herself, speaking aloud to hear her new voice once again.
"You said something, suzerain?"
"Ha ha! I was just talking to myself, Xinpo," she laughed, "thinking aloud. I am going to need a few blankets to cover up all this sexiness!" She ran her hands, including the one holding the dagger, over her curves.
“SUZERAIN!”
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She was correct on both accounts. She had to search through several cells before finding enough blankets to cover her. In fact, it took four: two tied together across her top and another two to cover her lower body.
As she finished tying the makeshift skirt around her waist, she realized just how much she really wanted some decent clothes. This place wasn't cold, but she didn't like the feeling of being so exposed all the time. It hadn’t been so bad in her last body, young boys were comfortable running around being only half-dressed.
She was quickly finding that the two large chesticles sticking out from her chest weren't really worth the maintenance. Initially, the novelty of feeling and looking at them was rather enjoyable, but after about half an hour, the wonder faded. They constantly pulled her forward, knocked into things, and limited her arm movement. In general, they were more of an annoyance than an exciting new plaything.
Still, she wouldn’t want to lose them or have anything to happen to them. They were a part of her, a part people found attractive and intimate. The opposing emotions were something Jarow had never really experienced before.
Jarow caught her train of thought as she wrapped her arms around her chest, as if giving herself a tight hug, protecting her breasts as if something here wanted to try and cut them off. She realized that this was not the way she would have thought about things in her previous bodies.
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She also realized that she had automatically changed her pronouns as well. She had never before thought of herself as female, but here she was calling herself "her" and "she," not to mention complaining about her boobs and at the same time protecting them.
She closed her eyes and tried to calm her thoughts. She needed to center herself. The emotions and contradictions of being female were extremely confusing, especially to someone who had been male at least three times before.
“Suzerain? Is everything okay?” Xinpo asked, concern lacing his voice.
“Not really, Xinpo,” she spoke aloud. While she found this new voice intriguing, she hadn't yet grown accustomed to it. Compared to the melodic tones of her last body's voice, this one sounded more akin to a talking pig with two stones tucked in its bottom lip.
“I am having a tough time getting used to this body's emotions and way of thinking,” she continued. “I am trying to find my center, seeking to find some balance and stability.”
She tucked the key into her makeshift skirt and brought her hands together in front of her. Of course, she had to extend her hands farther out than usual, stretching her arms to accommodate the orb-like obstacles. This acted as a vivid reminder of why she found it necessary to center herself in the first place.
She interlocked her fingers, but left her pointer fingers sticking up. She was unsure why she held her hands this way, but it felt right.
She breathed in, then out: focusing on the sensation of the air moving through her lungs. With each inhalation, she visualized a sense of calmness and peace filling her. Then she breathed out, sending her frustrations and anxieties out along with the expelled air.
She stood there for several minutes, breathing and calming her emotions. Initially, she avoided looking at her UI's clock. But then she decided to focus on it, allowing its constant ticking to ease her mind. Eventually, she began to find a sense of calmness and balance, and felt herself better understanding the dichotomy of this new body.
Then, Xinpo's voice broke the silence. "I am sorry, suzerain, but I believe Sir Wagglebottom has returned."
She opened her eyes and scanned the area. "What?" she asked aloud in surprise.
"He has stopped just outside my sensing range, just like he did before, suzerain."
Jarow's first thought upon learning of the Quigza’s presence was to charge at the little dog-knight: to rip him limb from limb. This new body began pulsing with rage, Jarow felt a heat bloom in her gut and course through her veins, urging her to unleash its anger. That heat promised power and vengeance. It promised the sweet taste of blood.
But then, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered, a faint echo of her true self. It recalled Waggy's fuzzy white face, his wet black nose and intelligent eyes. This part of her brain wanted nothing more than to forgive Waggy, to play with him and give him scratches.
A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her: bloodlust and tenderness: hatred and affection, all tangled together in a chaotic maelstrom.
The Orc brain, fueled by vengeance, roared for her to attack. But the older, more real part of her, the part which was truly Jarow buried deep within, knew she needed to think, to take control of herself. This was a fight between herselves on an internal battleground, one that raged not on a physical battlefield, but within the very depths of her mind, and if she couldn’t win then she wouldn’t be who she was anymore.
Jarow brought her hands to her head and covered her ears as if trying to block out the roars of the hot blood rushing through them. She shook her head, trying to clear the image of her leaping forward and tearing the poor Quigza apart.
She tried desperately to change the images, reform them into something less violent and more positive. She imagined herself picking Waggy up and holding him tight while he licked her face enthusiastically, happy to have someone to show him attention. She tried to focus on the feel of the small wet tongue as it swiped repeatedly over her cheeks while she giggled and scratched the furry Quigza.
"He's not an actual dog," she roared, the Orc brain fighting desperately to win the battle raging in Jarow’s mind as well.
Xinpo could do nothing but sense the internal struggle, as the opposing waves of emotion radiated from Jarow. He desperately tried to break through, to talk to Jarow, but his telepathic voice fell on a deaf mind.
Finally, after what felt like days, the heat surging through Jarow’s veins began to cool. The adrenaline and hormones that had fueled the rage subsided. The Orc voice weakened, and the more rational side of Jarow grew stronger until, finally, the two sides of the internal argument found an equitable resonance.
It took several more moments of allowing the equilibrium to settle in, but finally Jarow was able to control herself enough to call out to the dog-knight.
"Waggy! You may as well come out, I know you're there," she said loudly into the fog.
While Jarow was still upset at the Quigza for what he had done to her, or more precisely, had allowed the Boklojif to do to her, she had seen him cowering behind the pillar as she tried to escape, and had a suspicion that if he hadn't have done as told, he would be the one missing a head right now.
While this didn't excuse his behavior, it did allow for some forgiveness and for her anger to be directed where it belonged, at Boklojif, not at Waggy.
"Are you certain this is a good idea, suzerain?" Xinpo asked.
"Not at all. But I know that I'm not going to play the game the same as I did last time, that's for sure," she replied.
There was only silence in return from the direction of the fog. The presence they assumed was Waggy wasn’t moving or talking. Jarow and Xinpo continued to wait, the anxiety growing. Thoughts of Xinpo having been mistaken at who or what was there waiting for them in the fog made Jarow question her desperate struggle to subdue the anger within this Orc body. If it were someone or something dangerous, her initial fight response may have been the better choice.
“Sir Wagglebottom. If that is you there in the fog, then come forward. I have words for you,” she said as calmly as she could, only a slight tremor betraying her inner trepidation.
“How do you know my name?” came the faint response in Waggy’s familiar voice.
Jarow smiled, relief washing over her. From the sound of the Quigza’s voice, Waggy didn’t know who he was talking to. Since she was in this new body, and he didn’t realize who she was, it answered her question of whether swapping bodies was normal in this place. Apparently, it was not.
“It’s me, Jarow. We’ve done this before, remember?”
There was a pause, a long one. Jarow wondered if the dog-knight had refused to accept her words or if he simply dared not believe her. “He’s still there, right?” she asked Xinpo telepathically after a while.
"Yes, suzerain. He has not moved. I am unsure what he is doing."
Finally, after several minutes, the Quigza-knight called back, "I know that name, but you are not him. I do not know how you know of that person, but he is no more."
"Oh, come on, Waggy," she said with a hint of sarcasm and joviality mixed in, "with all the magic and stuff around here, you think a little reincarnation couldn't happen?"
There was another long pause, but luckily not quite as long as before. Then, Sir Wagglebottom slowly walked forward, his small furry body emerging from the fog. He hadn't changed, which told Jarow that she couldn't have been dead for too long.
"Hey Waggy. How long has it been since that big one-eyed guy took my head off?" Jarow asked playfully as the small Schnauzer-man moved into sight, halberd raised and at the ready.
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Sir Wagglebottom stepped forward from the relative safety of the fog, then froze as he saw exactly who had called to him. His furry body quickly became rigid with shock. Towering before him stood a colossal green colored woman, her frizzy brown hair brushing the ceiling. A pair of makeshift pieces of cloth draped over her private areas. In her hand, she clutched a key.
He had all but assumed the elven boy, Jarow, from before had found a key-weapon, it taking the form of the dagger he had kept a hold of. So, if what this person claimed was actually true, and that he had truly returned from the dead in this new form, that key helped verify his declaration.
His own key, which currently took the form of the halberd he wielded, allowed him to sense the magic around him. It also enabled him to open the large door to the grand hall where Boklojif could be found. With this sensing ability, he could determine the extent of another's magical field as well as its particular aroma, thus allowing him to remain at the very limit of the sensing abilities of his prey.
Moments ago, when he had smelled the same magical aura emanating from this person as he had before from the young elven boy, he couldn't figure out how that was even possible. Then, to have this beastly woman call out his name and claim to be the very same person? It truly seemed absurd, but an annoying whimper at the back of his mind told him that the possibility was there.
Sir Wagglebottom’s face scrunched as he sifted through his memories. He vaguely recalled the boy's tale of waking up here and searching the cells for answers. While this origin tale was not particularly extraordinary, the boy's hesitation, the sense that he held something back, lingered. Then there was the casual remark about his previous body; he had dismissed it at the time, but now he recalled it more vividly, as if it were said as a slip of the tongue.
The youth's mention of stumbling upon his own corpse added another detail he had brushed off earlier. He began to wonder if the boy was more than what met the eye. Could death be... optional for him in this barren place? A shiver crept up Sir Wagglebottom's spine.
Unfortunately, he had taken to purposely avoiding the tales of the Boklojif's victims years ago. The less he knew, the easier it was to deal with the fact that his actions brought about their death.
The sad truth was that he had been doing this for much too long and had become jaded and unfeeling. His own story of arrival and consequential slavery by the Boklojif was fraught with hardship, which he desperately tried to forget.
At first, hearing the other victim's tales helped ease his own memories and loneliness, but he quickly found the more invested he became with these people, the more it hurt when they eventually found their demise. It became obvious very quickly that, for him, it was easier to remain callous and uncaring.
He did his job, hated himself for having to, but hated Boklojif even more for making him. Sadly, he had no way of leaving this forsaken place or fighting back, so he went on performing his duties and growing more and more distant with each person he led to their death.
So obviously, he hadn't believed it at the time. The idea of someone returning in a different form was too ludicrous to be true. Now, however, he felt the same magic as before. He saw the female Orc holding a key rather than a blade, but smelled the same aura. When he heard her speak her name, it being the same as the boy's, his brain began to question if he could actually be telling the truth.
Finally, after considering the possibilities, Sir Wagglebottom came to a simple conclusion: whether or not this was the same person was irrelevant. He had a job to do, so he would do it. He walked forward, allowing the fog to wash over him as he exited the misty concealment. He came to a stop three meters away from the tall figure, then he announced:
"My name is Sir Wagglebottom, I do not know why you choose to call me 'Waggy,' but I do not approve. If you truly are the elven boy, Jarow," he continued, quickly checking his UI's clock to verify, "then it has been approximately four hundred hours since you... died."
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A thin smile played on Jarow's lips as Waggy answered, a fragile shield against the maelstrom of hatred still swirling in her gut. There was little it could do for her in this moment, though, and she knew it was best to subdue her anger until she could direct it in a more beneficial direction: towards the Boklojif, rather than waste her frustrations on its pawn.
Besides, it wasn't Waggy who had killed her. He had hidden behind the pillar while the Boklojif had toyed with her. She felt it was safe to assume that he was not a willing accomplice in her demise.
Until proven otherwise, it would be best to use Waggy, to befriend him and make him an ally. She had Xinpo to talk to, but this Quigza was the only other person she had access to here. Definitely not the Boklojif.
So rather than allow her anger to control her, she would treat the Quigza with respect, even befriend him. She would assume that he was being forced to do the things he'd done. Because unless something proved otherwise, the small knight would make a better ally than enemy: there was even the possibility that he felt the same way towards the monster, and would assist her in destroying it.
"Four hundred hours. That's a long time. I would have probably just said four days, but I guess days and nights aren't really a thing here since there is no sun, right?" she said politely, trying to get Waggy talking, hoping to learn anything more about this place or his alliances.
He seemed so small now. In her last body, Waggy had stood taller than Jarow's waist. Now, the diminutive knight was barely over knee-high to her; in this enormous Orc body. She realized what an imposing and frightening visage she must be to him. "Should we sit for a minute and talk to him?" she mentally asked Xinpo, wanting his opinion.
"There are a few things I would like to know, and I don't believe he poses a threat anymore, not while you are in this form, suzerain. So yes, I believe that would be prudent," Xinpo replied.
Jarow moved sideways and placed her back against the wall. She then slid down, bending at the knees until she was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. Once settled, she gestured for Waggy to join her on the other side.
Hesitantly, the Quigza moved forward and sat himself on the opposite wall, remaining, in his estimation, just out of reach of the large woman. He wasn't entirely convinced this was the same person he had escorted to Boklojif, but he decided it was worth trying to learn more.
Jarow stared at Sir Wagglebottom, aware that her gaze might betray her, but she couldn't resist watching the cute little furball. "Why do you do this?" she asked after a few silent moments of gauging each other. "Why do you fetch people for those two monsters?" She inadvertently emphasized the word, ‘fetch.’
Sir Wagglebottom considered his answer before responding. "If I do not fetch them, as you say," he emphasized the word "fetch" as well, but there was a hint of sarcasm as he said it, "then it would be me whom they devour." There was more to the story, but he figured that would be enough to make her understand.
Jarow nodded her head. His words basically confirmed what she had assumed earlier. She knew he could be lying, reading his face was difficult since his features weren’t human. She wanted him to be honest, so she chose to believe him for now.
"Yeah, that's some pretty good motivation. A shitty way of living though. Is that why you don't talk much? You don't want to get to know the people who you feed to your master?" There was ire rising in her voice, which she tried to quell, but she could tell the Quigza had heard it from the small flinch he made with his eyes.
Sir Wagglebottom coughed lightly at the implication. He knew what she said was true, a befitting way of looking at what he did, especially from the point of view of the person getting eaten. He didn't like doing it, but if he didn't then he would be dead, and they would simply replace him with someone else.
"Yes, that is correct," he finally said, hanging his head. "It's not like I want to do this though, it's not like I can just leave, that's not possible, no one can leave. I just do what I have to do to stay alive. I don't want to be eaten." The last words said in a mere whisper.
The Quigza’s paws visibly shook as Jarow watched and processed what he had said. His words, "No one can leave." struck Jarow particularly hard. The words began to echo repeatedly through her mind.
Xinpo echoed the statement in Jarow’s mind, "There is no exit?" They both took a moment to digest the information. The hallway sat silent for several moments while they digested what Sir Wagglebottom had just divulged.
Sir Wagglebottom fought through his own depression due to his lot in life, while Jarow and Xinpo contemplated the apparent inescapability of this place.
Finally, Xinpo spoke in Jarow's mind, his words offered to bring the subject to something useful. "Ask about his key, suzerain."
Jarow heard what Xinpo said, but rather than taking Xinpo's advice, Jarow asked his own question, unable to free herself from the echoes of inescapability, "You're saying there's no way out? Even if those monsters weren't there, there's still no way out?"
Wagglebottom raised his head and stared. His gaze lingered on her, a flicker of pity in his eyes. "You don’t know where you are, do you?"
Jarow's head shook, a silent confirmation. Wagglebottom's voice dipped to a grim whisper.
"This place is called the The Fading Divide. It's a place of limbo where spirits are sent to be destroyed. There is only one way a person can leave here, and that's through their ever-death. You can run away forever, but you will never get anywhere. You can lock yourself away and resist, but you will eventually stop caring enough to exist, or you can find your end at Boklojif. Those are the only options."
Jarow and Xinpo listened to the almost rhyming description of the place. It was obviously a common description, a limerick of sorts which proposed the types of death one could face while offering no alternatives.
They took in the explanation, listening and hearing the words, but neither of them believed it. From the beginning, they had known; a deep unspoken conviction, that their escape was possible, perhaps even destined.
They hadn't even confessed this to each other, yet they both shared in the certainty.
They also knew, now, that they were different. At least Jarow was. Sir Wagglebottom's reaction had confirmed it. Returning from death, even here, wasn't something that happened.
Jarow thought about the explanation the Quigza had given her of this place: she had experienced both the running forever part while attempting to move the opposite direction in the hallway. She also understood the part about losing the ability to care enough to exist. She had been on the verge of that in her first body as she lay watching her corpse. She definitely didn't want to experience either of those aspects of this place again.
"Nope. I don't believe it," Jarow declared to no one in particular. Xinpo created a mental sensation to affirm Jarow’s sentiment. She was going to get out, no matter what this place might be.
She looked again to Sir Wagglebottom, her new found clarity telling her to continue with the questions and ascertain all the information she could before moving forward again. "What about your key thing?" she asked bluntly.
The dog-knight flinched at the sudden change in tone. "Uh... my key-weapon? You have the same as I do, don't you?"
"Maybe, what's yours named?"
The odd question befuddled Sir Wagglebottom. "Name? It has no name. What are you talking about?"
That was interesting information. Another way they differed from the norm here. "I see," Jarow said. "So you can't talk to it?"
"Talk to it?" If Sir Wagglebottom had eyebrows, one would have been raised extremely high. "Are you telling me that you can talk to your key?" He chuckled, unsurely.
It was the first time Jarow had heard the small dog-man laugh. It was really the first emotion she had encountered from the little guy other than sadness.
She smiled. Visions of rolling around on verdant green grass and playing with this cute Quigza began to swim through her brain for a moment, her anger abated for the time being.
"Yes, actually, his name is Xinpo," Jarow told the Quigza, a tusked smile appearing on her face.
The chuckle from before started again as the Quigza asked, "Xinpo? What kind of name is that?"
"Suzerain," Xinpo said in an unusually defensive tone. "You have my permission to knock this rude person out."
Jarow smiled. She could feel Xinpo's impudence, but enjoyed the fact that Waggy was actually starting to lighten up and have a good conversation with her.
"Could you talk to him if he touched you?" she asked Xinpo curiously, ignoring his previous provocation.
"I do not believe so," Xinpo replied. "Also, I would not want to talk to him. How dare he laugh at my name?"
That made Jarow's smile grow even larger. "Not that I disagree or would blame you for refusing, but... would you at least try? It would make things much easier."
Strangely, as she posed the request, Jarow realized that her internal voice hadn’t changed. She had experienced three unique physical bodies with different voices, but only now realized that her internal voice, the one she used to speak to Xinpo, always sounded the same; like her original voice, or at least what she had believed was her original voice. It wasn't the voice she associated with her flabby human body, but was obviously male. It definitely wasn’t the melodic tones of her elven body, which meant that it had to be the one she had before she wound up here.
"I will try. For you, suzerain," Xinpo said respectfully, but with a slight undercurrent of annoyance.
Jarow extended her arm towards Sir Wagglebottom, her key held tight in her fingers. "Touch Xinpo, if you would. He's going to try and speak with you," she told Sir Wagglebottom.
The Quigza didn't know what to do. He had never before been offered anything like this. The things one found here were extremely personal, never to be handled by someone else.
He looked at Jarow, testing to see if this was some kind of trap, but he saw nothing but curiosity and humor in her eyes. Slowly, he reached out his paw and lightly touched the key. But nothing happened.
Jarow could hear as Xinpo tried to communicate with Waggy, but there was no response. She watched the little man tentatively touch the key, but he obviously heard nothing coming from Xinpo.
"Damn," she swore. Her language felt dirtier in this body for some reason. "Okay, he can only talk to me it seems." And she withdrew her arm. "But he does talk, and wants to know if your key has the Passe-partout ability, and if that is what you used to open that huge door leading to… you know who." Jarow asked while avoiding speaking of the monster, else her anger would flare up again.
The name of the skill his key used was not Passe-partout, but the term seemed strangely familiar to him. He still couldn't fully swallow this woman's claim of a talking key, but the way she phrased the question piqued his curiosity.
"No, not Passe-partout. The skill my key uses is called 'Latchkey.' It lets me open doorways through locked doors," Sir Wagglebottom explained.
"I see, suzerain," Xinpo spoke up excitedly. "It has a skill, not an ability, and only for doors. You should try my power on that massive door! It's the only one we know of here, that's locked."
An intriguing expression flickered across Jarow's face, so she asked him another complimentary question. "Waggy, you're supposed to be taking me back there, right?" The dual-monster concept still enraged and confused her.
"Yes, that is my duty. Failure to do so comes with my own demise," Sir Wagglebottom stated matter-of-factly. "But my name is not Waggy. I do not approve of this demeaning name. You will address me as..."
"Yes, yes, I know, Sir Wagglebottom. But it's just too long, and too hilarious." Even as she uttered the name, her insides giggled. "You mentioned a given name. Have I earned the right to know it yet? And what about you? Your species, race, whatever?" Jarow pressed, already knowing the answer from Xinpo, but wanting to verify, just in case.
An indignant look crossed Sir Wagglebottom's face, but he answered nonetheless. "My species, as you call it, is Quigza." He paused, his internal debate on whether to divulge his name evident. "My given name is Norruf, and I offer it hesitantly. Your trustworthiness is still unclear, but you are the first person in a great while who offers a flicker of interest for me, or perhaps the promise of change which is not found in this dreadful place."
Jarow smiled, teeth flashing. "Norruf Wagglebottom," she said, testing the sound on her lips. "That’s a strong name. Nice to meet you. I, as I mentioned before, am Jarow Hollowman, and I was originally a human, I think." She extended her hand to the small furry man, expecting a handshake in reciprocation.
"I told you he was a Quigza before we first met him, is your memory escaping you, suzerain?" Xinpo complained in Jarow's head.
Norruf's expression flickered with a hint of fear. Jarow realized the sight of her large hand might look a little intimidating.
"I do not lick hands," Norruf replied stiffly, turning his head away.
Jarow laughed, a full-throated sound that echoed through the hallway. "Nor should you, Waggy."