Linda leaned against the cold masonry, her legs feeling like overcooked noodles. Her breath came in shallow, jagged hitches, and her skin still prickled with the ghost of Brulga’s rough tongue. Every few seconds, a lingering throb pulsed through her groin, a visceral reminder of the violent vacuum that had just drained her dry. She felt exposed and dizzy, her mind struggling to pivot from the raw, predatory intensity of the troll's mouth back to the chaotic noise of Ashwick Hall.
"Well, look at you. Practically vibrating, princess," Izze remarked, her voice a sultry rasp. "Have some fun?"
The Krithak stood with her arms crossed over her chest, a sly, knowing grin stretching across her weathered face. Her yellow eyes flickered down to the damp patch on Linda's trousers and then back up to the Aelvyn's flushed cheeks.
"I- it was just- she was—" Linda started, her voice cracking into a high-pitched squeak.
The Aelvyn tried to step forward, but her legs failed her, causing her to stumble awkwardly against the stone wall with a dull thud. The sudden surge of confidence that had fueled her kiss and her defiance had evaporated, leaving behind the familiar, trembling shell of the woman who used to hide behind a computer screen in North Dakota. Her hands flew to her face, fingers splaying across her burning cheeks as she struggled to form a coherent sentence.
"She just... the conversation was... we were just talking about plums!" Linda stammered, her voice a frantic, incoherent mess of syllables that sounded more like a plea for help than an explanation.
Izze threw her head back and let out a loud, hacking bray of a laugh that drew a few curious glances from the surrounding mercenaries. The Krithak slapped her thigh, her yellow eyes gleaming with amusement as she took in Linda's absolute collapse.
"Talking about plums! By the Twelve, you’re a disaster," Izze cackled, her tone sounding not at all sorry for what she was saying. "Though I’ve gotta say, seeing you turn into a shaking leaf after getting your lower bells rung is the highlight of my week."
Linda opened her mouth to defend herself, but all that came out was a series of fragmented, high-pitched noises. Her mind was a static-filled screen, her internal processor crashing under the weight of the situation. She tried to stand straight, but her center of gravity felt completely skewed, and she ended up doing a clumsy, rhythmic shuffle against the stone wall.
"It just.. It just... happened..." Linda replied lamely, watching as Izze walked towards her.
Izze didn't stop until she was inches away, her small, sturdy frame radiating a sudden, concentrated heat.
"Well, thank the Twelve for that. I was wondering if you were as repressed as you looked, but it turns out you just like the heavy hitters," Izze purred, her voice dropping low. "Glad to know you like women, sunshine. Makes things a whole lot simpler for... later, hm?"
Linda blinked, her brain still half-fried from the encounter.
"W-what do you mean by 'later'?" Linda stammered, her eyes going wide at the Krithak's words.
She shifted her weight, the fabric of her pants clinging uncomfortably to her sensitive skin, and felt a surge of anxiety. She wasn't used to this kind of directness, not in North Dakota, and certainly not here. She began to actually wonder if Izze was hinting at some sort of customary Aelvyn ritual or if the Krithak was simply enjoying the sight of her falling apart.
Linda wished for a good video game she could disassociate in...
Like Skyrim...
Or Fallout New Vegas...
Cyberpunk....
Not World of Warcraft though, that was for nerds.
She internally sighed, a long suffering.
Maybe they had games here?
No...
No, that was being too optimistic, Linda thought.
A sudden, sharp cough sounded directly behind her ear, and Linda nearly jumped out of her skin, her heels clicking frantically against the floorboards as she recoiled. She spun around, her heart hammering against her ribs, to find Theodore Sterling standing barely an inch away. The Ardel loomed over her, his thin frame casting a long, narrow shadow in the dim light of the hall. His glasses caught the flicker of the torchlight, masking his hazel eyes in a clinical, opaque sheen that made him look more like a statue than a man.
"The atmospheric tension in this corner of the room has become unnecessarily dense," Theodore remarked, his voice as dry and precise as a ledger. He didn't look at Linda's flushed face or the telltale dampness of her trousers. Instead, he adjusted the heavy fabric of his robe with a slow, methodical movement of his long fingers. He leaned on his staff, the wood clicking against the wood with a finality that brooked no argument. "It is late, and the local hospitality is not known for its patience when ale flows late at night. We should depart for the inn."
Izze rolled her eyes, letting out a sharp, clicking sound in the back of her throat.
"Gods, you're no fun. Always reading the room like a funeral dirge," Izze scoffed, though her gaze softened as it drifted back to Linda's bewildered expression. "But he's probably right. If we stay here any longer, some drunken sellsword is going to try and challenge us to a drinking contest or a brawl, and I'm not in the mood to break any more noses today." Without warning, Izze reached out and clamped a small, calloused hand around Linda’s wrist. The grip was firm, possessive, and warm, pulling the Aelvyn flush against her side. The Krithak leaned in, the scent of old leather and wild musk filling Linda's senses, and gave her a slow, deliberate wink that made Linda's stomach do a clumsy flip. "Come on, sunshine. Let's get you out of here before you wander off again."
The walk toward the Ferrymark Inn felt like a blurred sequence of snapshots. Linda felt as though she had only been out of Brulga's grip for a few minutes, her mind still looping the sensation of that rhythmic, crushing suction like a corrupted video file. She walked in a daze, her feet barely touching the muddy main road as the cool night air bit at her flushed skin. Beside her, Izze moved with a predator's efficiency, her eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of trouble, while Theodore glided along like a ghost, his staff making an odd, wet sound as it sank into the ground. The twin moons of Velmoira hung high and pale in the sky, casting a ghostly silver light over the low stone-and-timber buildings of Brennale, making the entire town feel like a painting that hadn't quite dried.
The inn was a squat, sagging and tiered structure of blackened oak and riverstone that smelled perpetually of peat smoke and boiled cabbage. Behind the scarred counter sat a woman who looked as though she had been carved from a piece of ancient, weathered driftwood, her eyes milky with cataracts but her hearing sharp enough to catch a coin drop in a storm. She was a widow of the border wars, her hands gnarled and spotted, though she handled the heavy iron room keys with a surprising, practiced strength. With a clink of silver, Theodore secured the two best rooms - those on the upper floor with actual shutters and wool blankets that didn't smell of wet dogs - for ten silver pieces.
"We have no need for an evening meal, but we'll take the morning meal," Theodore added as the old woman nodded and slid two keys towards him.
The ascent to the second floor was a slow climb up a spiral staircase that groaned under the weight of their boots.
Theodore paused at the landing, his expression neutral as he gestured toward the two rooms.
"I shall take the smaller chamber," Theodore said, his voice returning to that clinical, distant tone. "The ladies may have the larger suite. It is only proper." He didn't wait for a thank you, simply stepping into his room and closing the heavy oak door with a definitive click, leaving the air thick with a sudden, heavy silence.
Izze didn't let the silence linger.
The Krithak steered Linda toward the larger room, her hand still firm on the Aelvyn's wrist, and practically shoved her through the door. The room was cramped but cozy, featuring a wide bed topped with a thick, scratchy wool quilt and a small hearth where a few embers still glowed a dull orange. The scent of beeswax and old pine filled the space, a stark contrast to the brine and musk of the guild hall.
"Get some shut-eye," Izze commanded, her voice losing some of its predatory edge but none of its authority. "We have to report to Garviss first thing tomorrow morning, and the man hates it when his contractors are sluggish. He's going to want a full accounting of that failed delve and why we didn't mange to clear out the hollows in that ruin. Gonna fucking have our hides..." She grumbled as she headed towards the bed.
Linda shifted her weight, her mind drifting back to the imagery of grizzled commanders she’d seen in old RPGs - scarred veterans with booming voices and an aura of absolute dominance.
"Is he... is the branch leader an intimidating man?" Linda asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"Intimidating? Sweetheart, you have no fucking idea." Izze groaned, the words barely escaping her lips before she collapsed backward onto the mattress.
The Krithak didn't just sit down, she hit the bed with a heavy and dead-weight thud that made the wooden frame shriek in protest. She sprawled out like a fallen soldier, limbs flung wide, her breathing deepening into a rhythmic, guttural snore almost the second her head hit the pillow. It was a sudden, total shutdown, the kind of instantaneous exhaustion that only came from days of fighting.
Linda wondered how long Theodore and Izze had been going before they found her.
Did they go in deeper?
Did they happen upon her after they failed the delve?
Was she not the reason they failed?
The thought nagged at Linda as she stood by the bed, watching Izze’s chest heave in a deep, snoring slumber. She didn't know the specifics of the delve, but the way Izze had mentioned a "failed" delve suggested a messy exit. Linda suspected the truth would emerge during the report to Garviss, but the ambiguity of her own arrival in this world felt like a firewall in a system she couldn't get passed.
It reminded her of her nemesis.
The NSA.
It was every hacker's dream and it escaped her before she went clean.
Linda sighed.
She looked at the snoring Krithak, then at the closed door separating her from the brooding Ardel in the next room. The encounter with Brulga had been an explosion of sensory overload, a chaotic reconfirmation of things Linda had memories of in her old life.
Linda was a lesbian and Theodore was owed a more detailed explanation for her actions.
She waited until Izze’s snores reached a rhythmic, guttural peak, the kind of deep sleep that suggested the goblin wouldn't wake unless the building caught fire. Stepping softly across the creaking floorboards, Linda navigated the dim room by the orange glow of the dying hearth. Her heart hammered against her ribs - a familiar, anxious thrum - as she crept back into the hallway of the inn. The corridor was a tunnel of oppressive silence, smelling of old wax and damp stone, making her feel small and exposed despite her Aelvyn height. She stopped before Theodore's door, her fingers hovering over the rough wood, feeling the lingering static of her own nervousness.
Linda knocked three times, the sound sharp and tentative in the quiet.
For a moment, there was nothing, then the distinct click of a latch. The door swung open just a few inches, revealing Theodore’s narrow, pale face and the glint of his rounded glasses.
"I assume you would like to have that talk now?" Theodore asked, not unkindly, with a sad smile on his face.
Linda nodded and he let her into his room.
The space was exactly like their room and she immediately headed to sit on the bed.
Theodore sat beside her, the mattress sighing under his slight weight.
"I am truly sorry," Linda murmured, her voice barely a thread in the quiet room. She kept her gaze fixed on her lap, her fingers twisting together in a knot of anxiety. "I didn't mean to mess with your feelings or lead you on or have you assume I was... interested." She explained and cringed.
Theodore let out a soft, rhythmic sigh, his gaze softening as he looked at her.
"Linda, please. I am a man of many disciplines, but I am not a fool." He leaned back, his shoulders relaxing - maybe he was anxious to? "To be honest, the prospect of you was... appealing. I enjoyed the fellatio. I would have enjoyed the intimacy of more sexual union, the physical discovery of someone as unique as you. But I have spent too many years studying the fractures in people's spirits to mistake a trauma-response for genuine desire."
Linda felt a lump form in her throat, her green eyes shimmering as she finally looked up at him.
"Thank you for being so honest. I just... I spent so many years pretending. For my papa's sake, I pushed down every part of me that didn't fit the mold he wanted. I tried to bear it, you know? Trying to force myself to be with men because that was the only path that made sense to him." Linda replied, pausing, her voice trembling with the weight of a decade of repressed longing. "I think I just defaulted back to that old habit of pretending. It's easier to play a part than to admit you don't know how to be yourself."
Theodore’s expression shifted, a rare flash of genuine heat igniting in his hazel eyes.
He didn't move, but the atmosphere in the room sharpened, the air growing heavy as he leaned in.
"Had I met the man, I would have given him a few strikes to the jaw for such narrow-mindedness. A clean, precise blow to the chin to rattle the teeth, followed by a sharp snap to the solar plexus to leave him gasping for the air he wasted on such nonsense." Theodore huffed, mimicking the motion with a sudden and clinical flick of his wrist, his movements precise and practiced. "Three punches, perhaps. One for the lie, one for the guilt, and one for the silence he forced upon you."
Linda let out a genuine, bubbling laugh, the sound light and unexpected in the dim room.
"I would have loved to see that!" Linda admitted, her voice giddy. She felt a sudden, daring surge of confidence, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. "Actually... I might have already had a little interaction with a woman from the guild. A very... substantial woman." She leaned in, a playful glint in her green eyes as she recalled the sheer power of Brulga's grip and the intensity of their encounter. "And then Izze came right after and—" Linda paused, tilting her head and giving Theodore a deliberate, exaggerated wink.
Theodore stared at her for a long beat, his expression frozen in a mixture of bewilderment and mild amusement. He blinked slowly, as if trying to process the sudden transformation of the trembling, shy Aelvyn into someone who could actually flirt.
"The transition is jarring," Theodore noted dryly, though the corners of his mouth twitched. "One moment you are a wounded bird, and the next, you are boasting of conquests. It seems the ogre had a more profound effect on your constitution than I anticipated."
Linda’s smile vanished instantly. The air in the room seemed to chill, and she felt a sudden, sharp spike of panic that made her stomach drop.
"Wait- how did you know it was an ogre?" Linda stammered, her voice leaping an octave. "I didn't... I didn't say it was Brulga. I didn't even say she was an ogre!"
Theodore didn’t answer.
He simply stood up in one fluid, clinical motion, his robe swirling around his ankles like a pool of ink. He didn't look back at her, instead steering her toward the door with a wave of his hand that felt more like a command than a suggestion.
Linda followed, her mind racing, the confusion overriding her lingering exhaustion.
"Theodore? How could you possibly know? Were you watching? Did someone tell you?" Linda asked, the questions coming out in rapid fire style.
The Ardel man remained silent, his expression a mask of poised indifference as he guided her back into the dim corridor. As she stepped past the threshold, he paused, his hazel eyes catching the flicker of the hallway's torchlight. A sly, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a look that suggested he had seen far more than he was letting on, perhaps sensing the lingering scent of musk and sweat that still clung to her skin.
Without a word, Theodore stepped back and closed the door with a soft, definitive click.
"That- That little—" Linda muttered angrily, but the words had no real heat behind them.
She stormed back into her room, the floorboards groaning under her stride. She didn't even look at the snoring heap that was Izze, simply collapsing onto the mattress, and pulling the heavy wool blanket up to her chin. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting signals - the lingering, electric hum of Brulga’s touch, the unexpected kinship she’d found in Theodore’s clinical honesty, and the sheer, baffling absurdity of her new existence.
Despite the confusion, a warmth settled in her chest that had nothing to do with the dying embers of the hearth.
Her eyes closed...
And she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of what lay ahead...