***** I *****
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The goblins had died, but that didn’t stop them from doing their jobs. They stood right up from where they were laying, brushed themselves off, and got to work.
There were nine in total: short, squat men with dirty green skin and tattered, ratty clothes. Strands of wiry gray hair topped their head and lined their nostrils. With their short stature and large hands and bare feet, they grabbed the overturned furniture and set them right. Rough wooden tables and splintered chairs were restored, along with the torches set into sconces on the rough rock walls and shiny gold coins poured into treasure chests. Spiked traps with wooden pincers were wound back into place and false floors set into the wooden floor. It was a modest dungeon, one which smelled perpetually moist and earthy. The warm light of a dozen candles and torches filled the area. From the room they guarded there was only one single entrance and exit, setting predictable paths in which the invading heroes would get funneled through. With their chores finished and the room set right, the goblins plopped down onto the tables, scooted themselves in, and furnished a battered old deck of playing cards. The backs were browned with age and stains and the edges tattered, but it served them just as well as they gambled the hours away. 80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZldh1uzUPk
“Five slugs says you can’t beat three aces,” cried one of the goblins, pulling his sliming, wiggling wealth from a tunic pocket.80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSYhS0dSncy
The others pulled out their own living chips and commenced bickering.80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFX77JrGwEr
“Well, I gots seven slugs here that says you ain’t got no three aces!” Their living wealth was wagered, bets placed, and hands lost and dealt and lost again with much grumbling from the losers and cheering from the winner. 80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBQ89bYY14H
Slugs danced around the table from one gambler to the next as wagers flew. This was until the warning bell sounded, echoing up and down the stony corridors from no visible source. As a well rehearsed team, the goblins pocketed their hands and earnings, rose up from their places, and took up their armaments. They made for the room’s entrance, brandishing pitiful stone weapons and grim, snarling faces as they waited in their practiced positions. Together they were a wall of sharpened stocks and battered wooden shields, looking both primitive and imposing to the heroes who would soon be rounding that corner. The heroes did not keep them waiting. There were five in total, brandishing tempered steel weapons and wearing fortified armaments. With savage swings of steel and bursts of fiery magic, they blew through the ranks of the goblins with ease. They were tossed asunder, their lifeless bodies scattered about the room in moments. The heroes skillfully averted the traps, looted the room, and were gone just as quickly as they had come. With the coast now clear, the slain goblins righted themselves once again, restored the furniture, refilled the treasure chests, replaced the torches, and were seated back at the long table with cards back in hand. 80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAqODypmjFq
“I bet every slug that I got that you is bluffin’!” The goblin pushed his entire fortune forward, leaving slick trails of slime in their wake. 80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTP2joFdmM6
The others looked at the small fortune, double checked their own hands, then grumbled in irritation as they folded. The winner gleefully collected his slimy earnings. The game continued until the bell sounded for lunch break, marking the mid-point of their shift. The goblins stood from the table and put their earnings into their patched pockets, tugging up the drawstrings of their breeches under the weight. They approached an innocuous rock wall, pushing a secret button to swing open the secret door. They filled through, the door slamming shut behind, restoring the unbroken rock facade. Fresh gray slop was today’s special, complete with juicy bits of mystery meat. The lunch-witch plopped this coupled with fresh rolls onto the trays of all the gnolls, ogres, demons, and other monsters waiting in line. The goblins joined the other patrons in the dining hall, taking their company-sponsored meals with ale to one of the many cafeteria tables. The din of conversation and feasting were not unpleasant, and with the additional accompaniment of live music on Tuesdays and Fridays, it made for a welcome reprieve. Ratty kobolds in splattered aprons and hairnets pushed trays between the tables, collecting refuse and dishes. The roaring laughter of giant minotaurs overtook the room on occasion from where they sat at their taller, reinforced tables near the back. The clatter of pans and the smells of seared meat wafted in through the kitchen doors. Behind all of it droned televisions tuned to old movies. Cutting through the companionable conversation, two particular orcs stormed in suddenly, deep in argument with each other. 80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXeR4HWfwUb
"Throgg, you dummy!" scorned one of them. 80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpFDNBpgI77
She loomed enormous with a large, muscular frame. A tightly-braided, jet-black ponytail fell long down her back. Fitted mail and leather armor strapped around her frame, curving around emerald green skin. A pair of short, sharp tusks complemented the pronounced jawline and rigid, almost masculine structure of her face. A single black mole punctuated her left cheek. A wooden club hung from a sling on her hip. "Why are you mad, Orca?" asked the other orc. His frame rested lower and heavier than Orca's. He stood shorter, with a wider stance and a stocky frame. His bald head carried a crown both tarnished and bent. His shoulders bore a flowing purple cape made dirty and faded by time. A wide leather belt struggled around his girth, looking strained to bursting. His tunic was missing buttons, he breeches bore rough patches, and his big toe wiggled through a hole in his boot. "Why am I mad?" Orca roared, turning to face him. She towered over Throgg, fists clenched at her sides, looking so much like an angry brick wall. "I'm mad because you're an idiot! You are the king of the goblins, but you do nothing to help them!" "I do so," Throgg replied, indignant. "I got them their company benefits, like retirement packages and company-provided lunches." Throgg gestured around the cafeteria. This did nothing to alleviate Orca's anger. "The goblins are a joke! Management always sends them to do the worst jobs in the crappiest dungeons." "What's wrong with that?" Throgg asked with a shrug. "What's wrong with that?!" Orca repeated, her body now shaking in anger. Her face flushed in anger, turning her emerald skin an unhealthy purple. "They're being taken advantage of as the butt end of our kind! They’re a laughing stock! They’re nearly as bad as those stupid heroes, even." "But they're unionized now. Management said they may even think about possibly giving them pensions in a few years. Just imagine!" Orca roared in disgust. Too upset for words she stormed off, slamming the door close so hard it echoed through the cafeteria. With their break over, the goblins returned to the dungeon to continue gambling away the hours. The afternoon dragged on, without a single hero party coming through to break up the monotony. Slugs were lost, won, lost again, then snacked on as they got hungry. Those not engaged in the game, or too poor to play, debated the merits of a dungeon built from stale cheese instead of stone. At long length, with only minutes left until sweet relief, the warning bell rang out. After enduring dragging hours of nothing, suddenly they were being called on just as their shift was about to end. The goblins dragged themselves over to their places and waited, looking as enthusiastic as they could muster. A band of four heroes pushed into the depths of the dungeon. Leading the charge was a burly fighter bearing two wicked scythes and a long, leather duster dyed maroon red. The sides of her head were shaved bald, leaving her remaining dark blonde hair hanging down in braids. Behind her marched a portly warrior, dragging with him a warhammer taller than he stood. His short stature drowned in an armor set three sizes too big for him as he restlessly ambled around the corridors, never keeping still. Following him was a near-sighted rogue who’s dark leather gear sharply contrasted a bright streak of purple in her hair and tie-dye scarf. Bringing up the rear was a petite, beautiful, red-headed mage doing her best to not trip over her floor-length gown and overskirt. The dark stone tunnel emptied into a larger room just beyond. The path was lit by iron sconces and hanging iron lanterns. The fighter surveyed the ambush lying in wait just ahead of them, twirling her swords as she formulated a plan. Then she turned back to the others. “I’ll go in first. Jackurn, you keep them off my ass.” “Got it!” chirped Jackurn, giving an enthusiastic salute from inside his oversized tin can. “Violet, you pick off the stragglers.” “Uh, I’ll try…” replied the hesitant voice of the colorful rogue. “And Alyrra, you just blast everything you see.” “Got it! I won’t let you down, Ambrose,” the mage replied, gripping his gnarled magic staff tightly. “Any questions?” Jackurn threw his hand into the air. Ambrose just sighed as she looked down at him. “What?” “What if I gotta pee?” Ambrose just gave Jackurn a cold look, barely even able to see his face through the enormous helmet. “Do you actually, though?” “No, but what if I did?” Ambrose ignored him. “Any other questions?” Jackurn’s other hand shot into the air. “Great, no questions then. Let’s go.” Ambrose charged in, deftly dodging the spike traps in the floors and slicing at every goblin that jumped out at her. Her blades sliced with deadly accuracy, dispatching foes on both sides and she ran without stopping clear through the chamber. With all the foes on her, she turned, stabbing and slashing her way through their ranks. With every goblin fallen before her, she looked up to see Jackurn swinging his enormous warhammer in large, useless circles, Violet was trying and failing to hide behind a pile of rubble, and Alyrra had dropped her spellbook and was fumbling to retrieve it. “Seriously guys?” Ambrose complained, dropping her arms to her sides. “What the hell?” “Sorry!” Violet cried out, scrambling around the rocks. “I’m sorry!” “Less apologizing, more sneaking. Come on, Naruto!” “I did the best!” Jackurn proclaimed, having just stopped spinning like a tornado. “You did literally nothing!” Ambrose scorned. “I did, too! I stabbed literally at least ninety-million ogres!” "Literally every word you say makes my brain hurt.” Ambrose sighed in frustration before turning to storm out of the room. Jackurn bobbed along behind her, leaving the other two behind. “I think you did great!” Alyrra said to Violet, who flashed her a comforting smile. “Thanks, Alyrra. I just need to keep practicing, you know?” Alyrra gave her a thumb’s up before they both left the room together. Ambrose was waiting for them down the next corridor. She let them get ready before leading the next charge. It was amazing, watching Ambrose go. She leapt up on the tables, swinging and dodging and leaping back and forth as she swatted her blades at the little green people. She was such a natural, Violet couldn’t help but be jealous. Ambrose just made everything look so effortless while Violet couldn’t even master the art of hiding behind a rock. Still, Violet was grateful for this opportunity. It wasn’t often that Ambrose took time out of her raiding schedule to lead low-level people like themselves through these dungeons. But she also couldn’t help but feeling bad, because no matter how much Ambrose tried to help, Violet just could not ever work up to her level. But at the end of the day, she was incredibly grateful just to have friends here that wanted to help. “Violet, quit slacking and catch up!” “Oh, sorry!” Violet shook off her reverie and bounded forward at Ambrose’s command, giving it her best. Having neared the end of the dungeon, Violet still didn’t feel like she was doing as well as Ambrose. The four were making their way down another of the twisted corridors when Violet stopped a moment to catch her breath. She reached up to adjust her glasses she she realized she was no longer wearing them. “Oh, no!” she cried out, halting the others dead in their tracks. “I lost my glasses!” Ambrose sighed dramatically, looking up at the ceiling as if pleading with whoever might be beyond. Her swords hung down to scrape on the stone floor. “Really, Velma?” Ambrose teased. “I know, I’m sorry! They must have fallen off during one of the battles. I’ll just go back and look for them.” “Do you need a hand?” Alyrra offered enthusiastically, but Violet quickly shook her head. She was already bringing down the group just by being here. Now she was being even more of a burden. “No, you go on without me. I’m already slowing you guys down. I’ll just run and get them and catch back up, okay? Sorry!” Ambrose just shrugged before turning back toward the next room. Jackurn bobbed along behind her, eager to be doing anything. Alyrra was reluctant, but at Violet’s insistence, she followed the others as Violet turned and hurried back the other way. Violet felt foolish and embarrassed for letting the others down like this. She hurried on her way, scouring the floors as she went. She hoped that they would be easy to spot against the smooth round cobblestones. Going back through one room, she covered the floor from one end to the other, getting even more discouraged as she went. She kept on to the next room, thinking about how Ambrose had teased her, and how much she deserved it. She was a rogue wearing a brightly colored scarf who couldn’t even sneak properly. What good was she at any of this, she wondered. Re-committing herself to practicing even harder, she turned a corner and was shocked by what she heard. Ducking behind a nearby pillar, Violet peeked out to see a group of goblins from a previous room–a group they had killed no more than five minutes ago–up and about and moving the furniture back into place. She watched, fascinated, as they refilled gold into the chest from a large leather sack and pushed traps back into place in the floor, leaving the room just the way they have entered it. Then, shocking her even more, she watched as they opened a door hidden in the rock face which had not been there before. They swarmed through it as if eager to be gone. Violet left from her hiding place and hurried up the door, curious as a newborn kitten. When the door began to close on its own, Violet reacted without a moment’s thought or hesitation. She leapt through the doorway just before it slammed shut again. ***** II ***** Of all the odd things in this new place, it was the lights that Violet noticed first. There was the unmistakable overhead buzz of iridescent lamps with their cold, yellow bulbs casting sterile light downward. Unprimed drywall punctuated with electrical outlets and exposed sheet metal tubing lined the walls. Cement flooring lead to stairs accompanied by safety handrails and hazard tape. Painted lines on the walls pointed the way to different locations. Ventilation ducts ran overhead dispersing a cooling breeze. Violet blinked several times as she looked around. The sudden, unapologetic shift from fantasy dungeon into urban industrial complex left her feeling dumbfounded. It was as if she had been transported into the halls of a hospital, or maybe an old office complex, or possibly… “Disneyland,” she said out loud without meaning to. Then once again, with more determination. “This is Disneyland.” She had only visited once, but Violet had read about service tunnels leading behind and underneath the grounds at Disneyland providing quick, private access to each of the park’s main attractions. They were shortcuts for each of the employees and service people to get where they needed to go quickly and away from the public. Once the thought had popped into her mind, she knew it to be true. This entire place was like Disneyland, and she had just stepped in somewhere she was not supposed to be. Her first thought after this was disappointment. Knowing that she had inadvertently taken a peek behind the curtain, not knowing there had even been a curtain to peek behind at all, she hadn’t wanted to break the illusion of the place that she had so blissfully enjoyed before. Violet’s second thought was how much trouble she would be in if she were found out here. Feeling a growing panic at being discovered, she turned to leave, shoving on the metal push bar and finding it secure. It was locked. It seemed this Disneyland attraction had closed for the night and nobody was getting back in. Feeling even more trepid, Violet stepped away from the door, advancing further down the suspiciously modern hallway. She looked at each of the colored stripes lining the walls and the labels written on them. Dire Mountain was in red. Twilight Marsh was blue. Centralia Castle, the main gathering point for all heroes, was in green. Gradually she arrived at a junction, leading to a corridor looking exactly like the one she was in now. It stretched into the distance on Violet’s left. The green and blue stripes of Centralia Castle and Twilight Marsh followed it. Violet debated going that route, as it promised to lead back to the Castle she knew all too well. However, upon spotting a piece of printer paper duct taped to the wall, she ended up going the other way. ‘Common Room’ it read, with a hand-drawn arrow pointing left. She quickened her pace and followed that arrow, hoping to find a security office or some other kind of help. What Violet found instead halted her dead in her tracks. It was a cafeteria, much like the kind Violet had at high school. The layout, the echoing din of patrons, and the mixed smells of different foods were all unmistakable. But at the tables where she would expect students or workers were instead every type of monster she had ever seen, plus many she had not. Ogres chugged tankards of mead. Rat-people sat at tiny tables nibbling cheese. Furry workers in white aprons and smocks cleaned and stocked and ran to and fro with tiny push carts. And in the back, behind so many other diners, sat winged creatures at a tall bar watching television. It was such a completely mundane sight juxtaposed horribly against the utterly strange and unreal. Eyes wide in shock and fear, Violet backed away slowly, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Panic gripped her again as she took off running blindly back the way she had come. Violet ran forward, looking back toward the nightmarish cafeteria as she rounded a bend, slamming head first into what felt like a brick wall. She bounced backward, collapsing down onto the concrete floor. From where she lay sprawled across the floor, Violet looked upward, blinking into the face of an enormous orc woman who looked with equal surprise back down at her. “Stupid Throgg!” Orca raged as she paced the halls, too angry to even stand still. “He’s too stupid to know that our stupid Management is treating the goblins like they are… are…” She halted her pacing, lost in thought as she tried to think of the right word. Then she gave up, feeling even more frustrated. She stormed through the hallways, unmindful of where her feet were taking her. “Pensions? Unions? Those things are useless if the goblins still aren’t respected. And Throgg is too dumb to realize that Management is playing him for a fool! Which is very easy to do, but that’s not the point! That idiot isn’t doing anybody any good…” Something small bounced off of her, scattering Orca’s thoughts. She looked down and saw a tiny creature sprawled out on the floor. But this was no regular creature, Orca realized. This was a hero! Her anger vanished, replaced by a mixture of disbelief and dread. Her mind was reeling. A hero here? That should be impossible! How could this be? Were the heroes coming to invade them? Was this an attack? They both stared at each other, waiting with bated breath as they were sure the other would attack at any moment. Seconds spanned onward, stretching into an infinitely long silence as they dared not to move or speak or even blink. Finally it was the tiny hero who broke the silence. “Sorry.” Orca’s response was reflexive and automatic. “It’s okay…” Then they continued to stare at each other again. Had the hero just apologized? And had Orca just waved it off like some minor accident? Orca’s focus was drawn back down as, ever so slowly, the hero reached forward to pick something up. It was Orca’s club, laying on the floor—it must have been knocked loose during the impact! Orca found herself at once uncomfortably disarmed in the moment she needed it most. With the hero having Orca’s only weapon, and no doubt several of her own in concealment, Orca steeled herself, preparing for whatever devious tricks the hero had in mind… “You dropped this.” The hero handed it up to her, holding it the wrong way around. Orca paused a moment before gingerly accepting it, more confused than ever. “Thanks?” Orca replied, unsure if she were stating it or asking it. She flipped the club around to wield it properly, but still hung her arm, and the club, limply at her side, unsure if it was necessary or not. Mutual fear of hostilities from the other were overlaid with the fact that they had both been, up to this point, polite and apologetic. Was it normal for an attacking enemy to apologize before trying to kill you, Orca wondered. “Are you here to kill us?” It was Orca who broke the silence this time. “Why would I do that?” Orca would have sneered at such an obvious question, seeing right through her faked ignorance to her malicious intent, except for the fact that the question felt so… genuine. From her sincere tone of voice to her face harboring not a whisper of hostility or trickery, Orca studied her closely and found that, much to her own surprise, she actually believed her. “I… don’t know,” Orca admitted at length, her voice hesitant. “Are you going to attack me?” asked the hero. “No. I’m off duty.” Orca had intended her answer to be as sincere as the question, though she sensed that it did nothing to put this little hero at ease. She thought to elaborate, but it was the hero’s next question that put Orca back on her guard. “Are you… real?” “Real?” Orca’s receding anger bubbled up again, her voice gaining an edge of steel. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” “Sorry! I don’t know, I just… I’m sorry!” The hero looked on the edge of tears. She covered her face with her hands and started swaying back and forth, apologizing even more. Orca’s anger cooled again as her rational intellect took over. Here was a hero, laying vulnerable and emotional, feeling as scared and upset as a lost child. From this position Orca could have slain her with one good blow, but it was clear to her that this girl was no threat. Hero or not, Orca felt bad for her, taking a moment to realize how imposing she must have looked towering over her like this. It was clearly her own fault for being so large and intimidating to this little creature. Convinced that any threat had passed, Orca sheathed the club, hunkering down on her haunches and extending an arm. “Would you like a hand?” The hero sniffed, wiping at her eyes before extending her own hand out to meet Orca’s. The orc observed how small and delicate the girl’s hand was in her own, as well as noting with distaste the feeling of wet tears on her palm. She swallowed her disgust and pulled the tiny hero to her feet, surprised at just how light she was. Orca could have lifted her clear into the air with only her one hand, if she had wanted. The two of them now standing, but not nearly at eye level, a new awkward silence filled the air between them. “Are you… okay?” Orca offered at length, hesitant of what else to say. “I think so,” the girl replied, wincing as she rubbed the back of her head. Orca looked anew at the wide streak of purple running down the hair on the right side of her face. “You’re not hurt?” “No…” “You look hurt,” Orca observed flatly. “Maybe a little,” the girl admitted. “But it’s okay. I don’t want to be a bother.” “Why are you a bother?” “I don’t know! I’m sorry.” “You say that a lot, you know?” “Do I? I’m sorry!” Orca just looked down at her. Her emotions had cycled from shock to suspicion to sympathy. She was trying to figure out how she felt now, carrying on in a strangely casual conversation with this awkward, docile little hero in the middle of their home. She was on one hand bemused by this funny little creature, but on the other hand annoyed by her constant apologetic nature. It was only at this point that Orca realized she didn’t even have a name for this creature. “I’m Orca.” “Violet,” The hero blinked up at her a few times in disbelief. “Orca? As in Orca, queen of the goblins?” “Well, I wouldn’t exactly put it like that…” “Aren’t you like the biggest, baddest boss in this entire place, though?” Orca puffed up with pride, all at once liking this tiny hero immensely. A stupid grin slapped onto her face as she spoke. “Go on…” “And that you’re super tough and strong and nobody can hurt you?” “Uh, huh…” Orca was beaming as brightly as the Sun itself. “And that a group of raiders beat you by strapping a bucket to your head so that you couldn’t see to fight back?” “THEY WERE CHEATING! THOSE LITTLE ASSHOLES TRICKED ME AND…” Violet had shriveled into a whimpering little puddle on the floor, shaking and sobbing again. Orca caught herself short, annoyed for having lost control and causing Violet to start the waterworks again. “Sorry,” Orca said, doubly annoyed at herself for doing what she had just criticized Violet for doing a moment ago. “It’s okay,” Violet said, sniffing back tears as Orca helped her back to her feet again. Orca once more choked back her disgust at feeling wet tears on her hand. The silence that followed afforded Orca the opportunity to ask the question burning brightest in her mind. “What are you doing here?” “I separated from my group,” Violet explained. “I went back to get my glasses and saw goblins going through a secret door. I thought it was like a secret passage to, I dunno, a treasure room or something. But instead I found myself here and I couldn’t get out and I didn’t know what to do and I saw all of you monsters walking around and I just got scared and… and…” Orca took a moment to unpack her rant. First and least surprising, this was the fault of the goblins she had been campaigning for this entire time. She loved those little guys, but even she had to admit they were not the brightest bunch. Secondly, her analogy of this hero being a lost, little child was more on the nose than she had imagined. A fleeting thought came to her that she could just kill this one stray hero easily and no one would know or come looking for her, and earn herself a trophy for doing it. Despite the fact that murdering heroes was her job, the thought of killing this one made her unreasonably agitated. It would, among other things, be very unsporting of her. Plus this girl looked like she bore all the challenge of defeating a wet paper bag. She shoved the thought from her mind with a shake of her head. With waterworks threatening again, Orca reassured her. “It’s fine. Look, just go back where you came from and we’ll pretend like this never happened. Okay?” “The doors locked.” “Oh, right, the lower dungeons closed for the night…” Orca chewed her lower lip in thought, between her tusks. “Dire Mountain is open.” “I’m not strong enough for that place! I would get killed!” “Yeah, you would!” Orca chuckled viciously before seeing how Violet was looking at her. She quickly dropped her grin and kept talking. “Go to the Castle, then? Isn’t that where all you crappy heroes hang out?” “Firstly, rude!” Orca made a physical effort to keep her evil grin from resurfacing as this tiny girl tried to scold her. “Secondly, I don’t know my way around. I’m lost.” “Just follow the green arrows,” Orca explained, pointing out the stripes on the wall Violet had seen earlier. “What if I run into a mean monster and they try to kill me?” “Then they would earn a free trophy for their collection. Er, uh…” For such a tiny creature, Orca realized, Violet could muster an pretty imposing stare herself when she wanted. “What I meant to say was…” She wracked her brain for better phrasing, then shrugged as she gave up. What she said was exactly what would happen. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished. At length, Violet spoke the silence. “Can you take me there?” Again, her plea was so childlike and earnest that it was adorable! Though whether in a good way or bad way, Orca wasn’t sure. But the question triggered a number of thoughts to run through her mind all at once. Yes, she could escort this wayward little hero back to her flock. The problem with that was explaining what she was doing with a hero at all. It was a miracle they hadn’t been discovered yet in this hallway where they were stood chatting. They certainly would not remain undiscovered traveling all the way to the hero’s Castle. And what would Orca say then? That it was the goblins who, in all of their years of living here, were the first ones to ever, ever let a hero in? She could kiss all of the progress she made fighting on their behalf goodbye. And if she accepted the blame for herself? That would put her at risk of getting demoted instead. That wasn’t happening, either. “Uh…” she stammered, indecisive. “Please?” begged the tiny child. “Orca! What are you doing?” Orca jumped, reflexively shoving the girl behind her, out of sight. Violet cried out in surprise before being muffled by a hand large enough to cover her face. “Throgg!” Orca replied, her voice wavering. “What, uh… What are you doing here? And what did you see?” “Huh?” The same familiar look shown through his eyes as he approached: a look like a lighthouse whose beacon had gone out long ago. “I’m here because I was looking for you. And I saw you, so I stopped. What are you doing here?” “That’s… That’s none of your business!” “Well, the goblins wanted to know if it would be better to invest in a 401k or open an IRA account,” Throgg explained. “Oh, and also, they wanted to know what those things even are, I guess?” He shrugged. Between that stupid shrug he always did and every stupid word coming out of his mouth, it was like pouring jet fuel onto the fires of her anger. Orca had suffered this man’s presence for years, and her tolerance for it only continued to wane. “Throgg, you idiot! Why are you bothering me with this nonsense! The goblins need actual respect and real acknowledgement from Management, not stupid promises and fake words to keep stringing them along! Now go back to Management and do something actually productive for once in your useless, pathetic life!” “Huh…” Throgg appeared to think it over, but Orca knew that was a lie. He was incapable of it. “Okay.” He turned to leave, allowing Orca a sigh of relief. That was until he stopped and turned back around. “What are you doing out here, anyway? And who were you talking to?” “What was I doing?” Orca repeated, embarrassed to have been caught and was angrier because of it. Her volume increased with every sentence spoken. “Who was I talking to? I was talking to Mind-Your-Own-Damn-Business! And I have a message from them. They say go stick your head in your marsh and die, you overgrown, useless sack of troll shit. Now get out of here before you really piss me off!” “How would that be different than normal?” Throgg asked. “LEAVE!” “Alright, alright…” Throgg mercifully gave in, turning around and sauntering off. The moment his back was turned, Orca hefted Violet up and pushed her around the corner and against the wall, her tiny body slapping the drywall harder than she had intended. “Ow!” Violet cried. “Sorry! Just… Shh!” She held her hand over Violet’s face again and craned her neck around the corner, making sure that lumbering oaf was out of sight. At length she finally relaxed, releasing her grip on the girl, dropping her the remaining few inches back onto the ground. Orca winced in embarrassment as she realized she had been holding the girl up in the air the whole time. “I guess I was wrong about you,” Violet admitted as she gathered herself back up, recovering from being orc-handled. “What do you mean?” Orca said, only half-paying attention as she still kept a nervous eye towards where Throgg had gone. “You are one of the mean monsters after all. I’ll find my own way back!” Violet shouldered her way out of Orca’s grasp and stormed down the corridor. “Wait, what?” Orca ran after, overtaking her stride with only a couple of steps. “Look, I’m sorry I grabbed you, but if that thundering moron had seen you…” “I don’t care about that!” Violet replied, still unwilling to face her. “Or the keeping your hand over my face. Or the carrying me around or pushing me against a wall or any of that. I used to get bullied at school, so it’s whatever to me.” “Bullied?” Orca blinked in naked confusion. Violet ignored her, pressing on. “I don’t like how you talk to him,” Violet said, pointing a finger Throgg’s direction. “What, that idiot?” Orca asked, still confused. “You’re doing it again! It’s mean and hurtful and I don’t like it. And I don’t want to be in the company of someone mean like you, so I’ll just find my own way back, even if I do get killed!” “Wait, wait, wait!” Orca pleaded, and this time Violet did wait. She pierced Orca with a tear-filled gaze of such raw poignant emotion. It left her taken aback, standing there feeling nakedly upset over some tiny, little hero. Orca took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before trying to start again. “Look, I… He and I are, uh…” Violet stood there, hands on her hips, waiting with visible irritation as Orca struggled to find the right words. “Well, the first thing you need to know about him is…” “Stop!” Violet held up her hand, cutting her short. “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you, and the way you were bullying him. I don’t care what you think he did to deserve it or not. It’s not nice!” Orca was starting to get mad again. Whether from embarrassment or just frustration, she was standing here listening to this hundred-pound nothing, twig of a girl telling her how she should or shouldn’t behave. Orca had a mind to tell her to go find her own swamp and drown in it, same as she told Throgg. But if she did that, Violet would just run away again and this time Orca wouldn’t be able to stop her. She would definitely get herself killed in here. But so what if she did? What did Orca care about that? It would just be another dead hero. She had stacks of trophies in her own quarters from her own kills. Hundreds of them! But that was different and Orca knew it. That was honorable combat with skilled opponents in fair combat. That was while doing her job. But this would just be a slaughter. And no matter how difficult this girl was being, it wouldn’t sit right with Orca, partially because half the damn monsters in this place would take that easy trophy without question. They’d be grateful for it! She could imagine some puny kobold carrying the trophy into the common room and showing it off to the others, telling the story of some stray little hero lost in the corridors who was easy pickings. She could also imagine herself driving her fist into that scrawny little runt... Violet kept staring at her, waiting for a response with her hands still on her hips, pulling Orca back into the present. “Fine!” Orca surrendered, arms at her side with palms up. “Fine. I was not nice. I promise to be less not nice from now on. Are you happy? May I please keep you from getting yourself killed now?” Violet pierced her with a surprisingly captivating gaze before yielding. “Okay. Sorry I was a little mean for a second there, too…” “If you apologize one more time, I’m going to…” Orca’s words caught in her throat, remembering the promise she had made less than ten seconds ago. Unfortunately her hands didn’t get the memo in time and continued wringing the invisible neck in front of her. Violet ignored it. “So, what now? Onward to the Castle?” “No, I don’t think so. The lower dungeons might be closed, but the Marshes will be switching to the night shift now, which means those passages will be hopping with more frog-people than you could croak at.” She paused, looking at Violet for a response. Violet just blinked several times, expressionless. “But…,” Orca pressed on, disappointed. “If we waited until dawn, the Marshes will be closed down and we could sneak right through without being seen.” “Dawn? But that’s, like… I mean, that’s an entire night away! What am I supposed to do? Where would I go? How would that even work here?” “Well, there is one place I could hide you where absolutely no one would look, not even that bumbling, idiotic—lovely, charming, delightful Throgg.” Orca changed her tone fast when she saw that look on Violet again. “Alright,” Violet conceded. “Okay. I guess that’s what we do. So, where are we going?” Orca pointed just down the hall to one of the side doors. “My place is just through there. How do you feel about sleepovers?” ***** III ***** There were pillows everywhere. Body pillows dominated a U-shaped floor sofa wrapping around a conversation pit sunken into the main living space. Ruffled throw pillows mounted a slipper chair with a wide curving back. Accent pillows adorned credenzas and rode atop free-standing ottomans. Smaller pillows rested on a single large chair which was, itself, yet another bean bag pillow. And where there were no actual pillows there were pillow-top benches or big, poufy cushions. And in every direction there was something to look at—every fabric a color bonanza, every wall covered by hanging afghans with deep hues of red and gold. The carpet itself was thick plush, bursting with colorful geometric shapes. Doorways were carved into ornate pointed arches. The living room ceiling vaulted upward into a dome, the sides of which tiled in vibrant green and gold. Violet didn’t know where to look first. In all directions, on every single surface of every single object, there was something to get lost in. She was still in the doorway, lost to the sights: standing like a deer captivated by a thousand flashing headlamps on all sides. Orca had only left her alone for a minute to go change. When she came back, Violet had shed her boots, her colored scarves, her leather jerkin and greaves and was lying face down on the floor making snow angels in the shag carpet. “It’s soooo soft!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled through the thick shag. She looked up at Orca’s arrival and squealed in delight. “OH MY GOD! That is so cute!” Orca just stood there feeling utterly confused. Violet was swooning over her bright pink sweatpants covered in white hearts, oversized tie-dye sweatshirt that fell to her mid-thigh, and pair of comically large bunny slippers with ears that stood tall and upright like cuddly antennas. “What?” Orca asked, dumbfounded. Minutes later, they had settled onto the low seating of the depressed conversation pit and were making small talk. Orca dominated one entire side of the couch as she sprawled on her side, her head propped up on one arm. Violet herself was snuggled into an opposite facing chair, flanked on all sides by a human-sized nesting of pillows. Her legs were pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them as she gently flipped her white socked feet up and down like pinball paddles. The rest of her was covered by her soft black leggings and Renaissance-themed cotton tunic—an embarrassing void of color compared to Orca and her rainbow abode. Violet kept looking at Orca’s long dark hair, released from its tight ponytail to cascade freely all around her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Orca’s emerald skin, looking so different and alien, but yet somehow natural and exactly right on a woman like Orca. The darker tone of her skin matched the playful explosion of color on her pajamas. Violet went on to admire the cute little tusks that poked out of her mouth even when it was closed. She even liked Orca’s mole on her cheek, looking so much like a beauty mark. Orca looked at her staring, causing Violet to blush and look awkwardly away. “I’ve never seen an orc up close like this before,” Violet admitted. “Sorry if I’m staring.” “You always killed them from afar?” Orca asked, her voice unusually casual despite the accusation. Violet shook her head violently, causing her burrow of pillows to tremble. “No, no, no! Never anything like that! I just never, you know…” She gestured at her companion, and the entire room around them. “I’ve just never seen a real live orc quite like this, or in a home like yours. Like, I never knew a place like this even existed. Or that people actually lived here!” “What, you think we just stand there in our dungeons every second of every day and just wait for you people to show up?” “Well, yeah…” Violet replied. “I mean, I guess I hadn’t ever thought about it like that before. But I can’t get over the fact that all of this is real!” Orca snorted, whether in good humor or not Violet was unsure. “You come here with your other heroes to kill of us all in our own dungeons,” Orca explained. “And then somehow you doubt whether we’re even real or not? How does that make sense?” “Well, you see, you’re… I mean, all of this, this whole place is, uh… Well…” Orca snorted again, this time in clear contempt. “Typical. The hero thinks this place is all about them.” “I mean… isn’t it, though? Is it not?” Orca rolled onto her back, a hand placed behind her head, preferring to face her domed ceiling instead of her guest. “No. And yes. This place was built for your kind, but without us here to populate it, this place wouldn’t be anything at all. Just cold, empty dungeons with no trinkets to pilfer. And all of us monsters need a place to live and sleep and eat, same as any of you do. How your kind didn’t know that already is beyond me!” “Okay, about that—I have, like, a million questions.” “Shoot.” Violet proceeded with a lightning round, launching off question after question as soon as she could think of them. Orca, to her credit, kept up and answered each as quick as they came. “What do you eat here?” “Usually whatever they serve in the common room.” “Is it normal food or gross monster food?” “Sometimes one, sometimes the other.” “What’s your favorite food?” “Chocolate truffles, with peanut butter inside. Or maybe lasagna. Not both.” “What do you do for fun?” “Work. Hike. Explore. Read. Knit occasionally.” “What do monsters do when they’re not on the job?” “Whatever they want, same as heroes. Read books, watch television, exercise, games, gambling—whatever.” “Do they have big houses for big monsters and little houses for little monsters?” “It would be weird if they didn’t, wouldn’t it?” “Do monsters brush their teeth?” “God, I hope so.” “Do you have, like, normal bathrooms? Or weird, fantasy bathrooms?” “The hell is a weird, fantasy bathroom?” Orca asked, looking pointedly over at Violet again. “You mean do we shit in buckets and empty them into the local river? No. Indoor plumbing is this orc’s best friend. Go look for yourself, if you’re so damn curious about my crapper! Weirdo.” “I think I will!” Violet replied. Orca pointed the direction and Violet took her escape, closing and locking the door behind her. “Damn, if you had to go, you could have just asked…” Orca muttered, laying her head back down on the couch. Violet did indeed need to, but that was only partially the reason for her escape. After using the very much modern-looking commode and hand sink, she took a look around. Peeking behind the shower curtain, she found evidence that confirmed her suspicions. After seeing Orca’s lodgings and most especially her modern day sleepwear, Violet wondered about just what kinds of goods these monsters had access to in this ‘fantasy’ landscape. Violet picked up matching bottles of Neutrogena shampoo and conditioner, all dated recently. Next to them were L’Oreal skin creams, lotions, bath soaps, razors, and all manner of disappointingly ordinary things that any human woman would own. Somehow, that just made it seem all the more unreal to her—here was this decidedly non-human, monstrous, very much fantasy orc woman using the same brand hair care she used for herself at home. Like the peek behind Oz’s curtain earlier, the starkly mundane somehow soured the illusion of the fantastic. Violet even chuckled a little when she picked up the body wash and discovered that it was intended for men. ‘For the masculine outdoorsman,’ it read. Once her curiosity was sated, Violet exited the bathroom. “Took you long enough,” Orca said, looking back over at Violet as she approached. “You find any weird, fantasy shit in there? A shelf with three seashells, maybe?” “No, it all looked… disappointingly normal.” Violet took her seat back, surrounding herself by her legion of pillows like before. Then she spoke up again as Orca’s words tugged at her mind. “Wait. That reference earlier, the three seashells. How do you know it?” “Did I mention the televisions before?” “Well, yeah, but I just thought you had, like…” Violet struggled for the right words. “Like, monster… shows? Local dungeon news? No?” Orca laughed—a guffaw that, for the very first time since Violet had met her, was most definitely good-natured. “Not unless you count Sesame Street, maybe. No, we get normal human shows and movies here. Blu-Rays, DVDs, that type of thing. We’re monsters, not Amish.” “So we are humans to you? You just kept calling us ‘heroes,’ I thought there was some reason for it.” “Semantics,” Orca explained, waving it away with her hand. “Over here, there are humans, or human-like monsters, that are grouped in with the rest of us. Evil wizards, cultist acolytes, crazed zealots, etcetera, etcetera. Then there’s you lot, on your side, that are the heroes, which are always human. So instead of referring to you as humans and getting you mixed up with our humans, we just say heroes. Easier that way.” “Got it,” Violet replied. “So you watch our shows out here. Okay. What about Netflix? I have some favorites on that!” “Nah, no Netflix,” Orca explained. “No Internet.” “Wait, seriously?” Violet asked. “Why?” Orca just raised her arms up in a shrug. “Doesn’t work that way here. No idea. Ask Management.” “Who?” “Our boss’s boss’s boss. Runs this entire place. You’d have to ask them.” “Who are they?” “Don’t know that either,” Orca said. “Never met them. We only ever hear from Management when they’re mad or when they want to change something. Otherwise, no one really knows. Only thing we do know is that, if they ever do want something, it’s always bad.” “Oh...” Violet looked around the room once more, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation to feast on the colors. “I love your place! It’s so pretty.” “Oh?” Orca looked around as if only just noticing it. “Thank you.” “And your pillows! They’re so comfy!” Violet’s gaze went back to Orca herself, lounging on her couch, her long hair flowing around her. “And your hair. It’s so beautiful!” “I WILL KILL YOU FOR THAT!” Orca was on her feet, towering over her and brandishing a wooden club from nowhere down at her. A sudden murderous rage filled her eyes, horrifying Violet. “Wait, what?” she stammered, trying to shove back into the cushions. She pushed herself backward, cowering behind pillows like tiny plush shields. “What are you doing?” “I invite you into my house and this is how you repay me? BY MOCKING ME?” “I’m not mocking you!” Violet pleaded frantically, suddenly vividly aware of how terrifying this orc hd been when they had first met. “I’m not mocking you! Please, stop it!” “You lie!” Orca raged. “Orcs are vicious. Strong. Powerful! We are warriors, built for battle and destruction. We are not ‘beautiful’. Quit lying to me!” “Wait, is that what you think?” Violet hated the way Orca could snap at any moment with her terrible temper, but in this case, she felt like she understood some of it. “Who told you that?” “We are not ‘told’ how we are,” Orca replied, still towering over her, club raised. “We just are! Do you need someone to tell you that you’re a lowly hero, or is that just what you are?” “I mean, I was only referring to your hair, but, like… has no one really ever told you that you’re beautiful? Or pretty? Or, like… any other compliment, ever?” “I am told that I am strong, and an excellent fighter. Those I accept. But to hear anything else that’s obviously a lie is just insulting!” “Now that, that is just… horse doo-doo!” Violet blurted out. She stood upright on the couch cushion, the wooden club leveled at her chest as she sternly faced Orca down yet again. “Look, you’re clearly a little sensitive about your appearance. Like, a lot. But I get it, believe me! And I would not tell you something that I did not genuinely believe, alright? …Alright?” “But, if that’s the case, then…” Orca faltered, her gaze shifting away. “Then, why do you believe something that isn’t true?” “Because maybe it actually is true, but we only just think we don’t deserve to hear them?” Violet suddenly found herself remembering her own mother trying to tell her this exact thing so many times over. Violet never imagined she would be recounting her mother’s words to someone else, or to some mythological orc monster of all people. “Maybe we are only just convincing ourselves that we’re not beautiful, when in actuality, maybe it really is true? How would we know if we keep trying to convince ourselves that we’re not?” “We aren’t made to be pretty, though,” Orca argued. “Orcs are made for fighting and killing. Not for their looks!” “If orcs are made only for fighting and killing, then why do you like to read? Or knit? Are orcs made for reading and knitting, too?” “It’s just a hobby…” “Or, if orcs are only good for fighting and killing, why do you like eating chocolate and lasagna, but not together?” Violet persisted. “They’re yummy…” “And if orcs are really only good for fighting, why do you live in an apartment with a ba-zillion pillows? Are these good for killing? Huh?” Violet slammed a handful of throw pillows over at Orca as she spoke. “What about those cute little pink sweatpants with hearts on them? Or those adorable fuzzy bunny slippers? Are those made only for fighting and killing, too?” “They’re comfy!” “Then why, if you do all of these things that aren’t just for ‘fighting and killing’, why can’t you also look pretty too, huh? Why not?” “Because… I don’t?” Orca replied, her voice growing distant, her eyes turned away. “I don’t look pretty.” “Well, I think you do look pretty! So there! And if you don’t like that, then you can just… just go ahead and smack me with that big ol’ club of yours!” Orca looked at Violet, then to the club in her hand, then back down at Violet, blinking several times wordlessly. “Okay, but please don’t actually smack me with it, alright? That looks like it would hurt.” Orca’s arms shook in frustration, and for just a moment Violet closed her eyes and winced, expecting a blow to come. But Orca threw the club away instead, where it landed in an explosion of pillows. She stared down at Violet in frustration. “Why are you so difficult!” “I had a strong role model growing up,” Violet replied earnestly. “Well… stop it!” “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can. It just upsets me so much when I see someone I care about upset, especially when I went through the same kind of thing they did.” “But, now…” Violet continued, wagging a vicious finger at the seven-foot tall orc standing in front of her. “We need to have a serious talk about your temper!” ***** IV ***** The remainder of the night passed without further incident. Violet bemused Orca by describing the many different flavors of ice cream she enjoyed. Orca returned the favor by letting Violet stomp around in her oversized bunny slippers. They both took a moment to ponder the mysteries of which type of noodle made the superior lasagna, staring up at the domed ceiling together as they did. When Orca bid her goodnight and disappeared into her bedroom behind a closed door, Violet, who had her choice of every cushioned surface in the house, accepted the couch as a bed and tried to fall asleep. Her excitement at the day and the wonder of her newfound surroundings kept her awake a while longer. The morning light beckoned with the savory smells of bacon and eggs. Violet arose to the sight of Orca mastering her kitchenware, dressed already for the day in a metal cuirass and greaves, both bound firmly by buckled leather straps. As if the sight of a giant orc woman making breakfast should have ever been routine, the addition of her flipping eggs and stirring bacon while outfitted in full body armor was doubly impressive. “Dressed for work already, I see?” Violet mused, rubbing her eyes. “I am. Hope you like your eggs sunny-side up.” They weren’t her favorite, but Violet didn’t want to say anything contrarian lest she set Orca off again. They settled back into the conversation pit to eat, Orca forced to sit stiff upright due to her plate metal. Her hair was back into its tightly bound braid once again, just as rigid and formal as the rest of her. Violet was sad to see her flowing hair gone but wasn’t about to say anything about that either. Their small talk was companionable and pleasant, despite Violet feeling on edge about Orca’s unpredictable temper. Orca collected the dishes afterward and Violet thanked her for the meal before assembling her own gear once again. “Well, I’m due at Dire Mountain at eight this morning. Twilight Marsh is closed by now, and all the frog-people should have leaped on out of there by now.” She glanced at Violet, who was too preoccupied with the straps of her jerkin to notice. Still nothing. “It should be clear to get you back on home now,” Orca continued, still disappointed. “Should I wear a disguise this time?” Violet offered. “Like, to look like one of your evil wizard people, maybe?” “Uh, I don’t think that would help,” Orca explained. “If you actually saw the type of humans that lived on our side, you’d realize you don’t exactly meet the qualifications to blend in as one of them.” “What do you mean?” “You’re not ugly enough,” Orca said flatly. Violet couldn’t decide if there was a compliment to be had in there or not. “But here, I’ll give you my poncho I sometimes wear when I visit the Tangled Thickets,” Orca continued. “Worst case scenario, just pull the hood up and I’ll do the talking.” Violet was left swimming in Orca’s dark leather poncho. It was big enough to hold two, maybe even three of her all at once. She raised the hood, which hung down low and obscured most of her vision as she walked. She also had to hold up the bottom of it like a child in her mother’s dress. The entire thing ended up being unnecessary, as Orca’s prediction about the route being clear was correct. Navigating the winding maze of samely corridors and painted lines, Violet followed as Orca led to yet another door with a metal push bar. This one gave easily, opening up to a familiar looking cobble courtyard nestled in an alleyway between wooden shops. This was the central intersection right in front of the Castle proper, with streets branching out in all directions. The morning crowd was only beginning to assemble as Violet heard the familiar din of vendors, shoppers, and loiterers. Violet stepped just beyond the doorway and looked back, seeing much to her amusement that she had stepped directly out of a wide tree growing in a small dirt lot adjacent to the alleyway. “Boy, these things really do lead everywhere, don’t they?” she mused. “Yep, they sure do,” Orca agreed before turning to leave. “Well, it was fun. Bye!” “Wait!” Violet called out, halting the orc in her tracks. “What about… I mean, that can’t just be it, right?” “What do you mean?” Orca’s eyes kept darting around Violet’s frame. She was clearly feeling very nervous about being this close to the Castle and the heroes who strode past just beyond the alley. “I mean, what about everything we shared? The… the talks, the breakfast, the night at your place? All of it?” “Yeah, it was fun,” Orca agreed. “Thanks.” “And that’s just… Well, that’s it then?” Violet asked, exasperated. “Nothing else?” “Like what?” Orca asked. She kept eyeing the streets around Violet, barely paying attention to her words. Evern her body was twisted around, pointing back the way they had come, looking like a bullet anxious to be shot off and gone as soon as possible. “I don’t know! I mean, I guess… I just thought maybe, like maybe we could…” “Look, it’s getting on towards eight,” Orca said, cutting her short. “If I don’t get to work soon those heroes are gonna walk right off with the treasure, then I’ll never hear the end of it from my boss. Plus if I get seen around here, that’s gonna be a whole other bunch of trouble I don’t need. So, yeah, glad it worked out the way it did. Happy you didn’t die. It was fun. But I gotta get back now. Good luck out there!” Then she released the door, letting it close with a gut-wrenching slam. All at once there was nothing in front of Violet save for an old tree—not even a single seam remained. It had all been just like that door: open to something impossible and wonderful but gone just as quickly as it had appeared. One moment she had been on this amazing, magical, emotional journey with someone she thought she had grown close with. A friend, at the very least. But with an echoing slam and latch of cold steel, it all disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a stupid, uncaring tree as if there have never been anything in the first place. Violet tried to feel for the edges of the door, or a secret latch, or anything at all. But it was all completely useless. It was nothing but an old oak tree standing before her, mocking her for even trying. Save for the comically large poncho she wore, the whole thing might as well have never happened at all. Defeated and ashamed, Violet had no choice but to give up and make her way slowly back to Applewood Manor. She hadn’t even exited the alleyway before her tears began. ***** V ***** Applewood Manor was many things to many different people. At its most basic, it was a Dormitory-style residence with two wide-reaching wings spanning multiple floors. Heroes could claim one of the dozens of bedrooms to stash away goods or just have a quiet space to themselves. There was also a common room, a dining hall, and a war room, complete with meager but serviceable reading materials for heroes of all experience levels. Beyond being strictly a physical structure, Applewood Manor also provided a guild structure, with leaders and officials maintaining the day-to-day by organizing events and raids. Applewood was also a haven for new heroes where they could relax, learn about the world, and mingle with like-minded people in a safe, caring environment. When Violet slinked in through the towering, iron-bound wooden doors, she heard the familiar commotion of a dozen people, carrying on with conversation or laughing at jokes. It all sounded strangely reminiscent of another otherworldly common room she had visited recently. A wide red rug covered polished dark wood flooring. Dual grand staircases dominated the view, sweeping around to the upper landing, leading to a spiral staircase that ascended even further beyond. An ornate chandelier burned with perpetual blue flames above. The walls were adorned with high quality prints of key locations within the world, framed and labeled with gold plates. Open doorways lined each side of the wide hallway leading to all the main rooms. Violet made for the left staircase, intending to bypass the lower level and its crowd entirely, when a familiar face called out to her. “Good morning, Miss Violet.” That was Aura, the guild leader of Applewood Manor. He wore his usual dark twill, double-breasted frock coat with ornate copper buttons. A pair of thin, rectangular spectacles with copper-colored frames rested on his nose. A pressed button-down, formal dark slacks, and sharp loafers lead to a very dapper look overall. But Aura’s most noteworthy characteristic remained the living accessory perched on his left shoulder: an adult green macaw by the name of Kiwi. “Kiwi!” exclaimed the macaw in its usual greeting, its head cocked sideways. “Oh. Hi, Aura…” Violet tried to muster a smile, hoping to brush past quickly. “Miss Violet, Ambrose asked me to pass along a message,” Aura persisted, politely blocking her way. “In it, there were a number of expletives of which I am choosing to omit. Something about leaving her in the lower dungeons. Then more colorful expletives. Then eventually, she passed me these.” Aura pulled open a drawer from the cabinet adorning the wall. From it he procured Violet’s missing glasses as well as a new dagger, the blade curved and colored with a shimmering turquoise hue. “She saved it for you from the spoils of the dungeon,” Aura explained. “I think she was intending it to be a gesture of goodwill, but from her choice of language throughout, it’s safe to say there were mixed messages.” “Yeah…” Violet took her glasses and the new dagger, her would-be enthusiasm at a new weapon hampered. “I kind of left her mid-run. Something… came up.” She hesitated, selective with her word choice. “Well, that happens,” Aura replied, pushing his thin spectacles back up the bridge of his nose. “Ambrose will calm down, eventually.” “Where is Ambrose, anyway? I was hoping to apologize to her.” “She just left. Seems she was taking part in a raid on Dire Mountain at eight o’clock this morning.” The irony of the situation hit Violet like a door slammed in her face. She didn’t know if she should be laughing or crying. “Something the matter, Miss Violet?” Aura asked, his head cocked and his eyes filled with concern. “Just… allergies,” Violet said, wiping frantically at her eyes. “Here?” Aura cocked an eyebrow. “That seems exceptionally unlikely…” “Okay, thanks for the dagger. Gotta go, bye!” Violet fled, escaping up the stairs as Aura stared after, Kiwi flapping his wings from his shoulder. Violet bounded for her room, slammed it shut behind her, and collapsed down onto the bed. The events of the night prior played through her head at random, the words spoken back and forth playing like a twisted mix tape in her mind. Had she read too much into it? Had it been something she said? Had she been too mean to Orca during the many times Violet had scolded her? Violet ran her hands over the comforter on her bed, feeling even more upset at its stiff, rigid texture. “It’s not even as soft!” she cried out in frustration. Foregoing the shameful bed entirely, Violet pushed herself to her feet only to sit at the wooden writing desk sitting underneath the one small window. Taking parchment and a self-inking quill from a drawer, Violet sprawled her feelings into words between the privacy of her, her quill, and the unspeaking parchment. Journaling in private often provided the only comfort she needed as it had done many times before while growing up. She kept the quill moving for hours until she had run out of words, eventually stashing all of it in a drawer before eventually being comfortable enough to return to public again. The evening was mercifully calm. Violet became overtaken by the usual going-ons around the Manor she forgot to be upset. She walked the common rooms, finding Aura and Kiwi at a desk in the war room, going over statistics and balance sheets. The common room held many other their other guild members both old and new. Violet recognized a few of the faces there but was pleased to see many more than she didn’t. That meant that their guild was growing and helping out even more new people. From the bookshelves of the common room, she perused some of the maps of this world’s many dungeons. Not one of them even hinted at secret service tunnels and houses for use by the monsters only. Disappointed but not surprised, Violet folded the maps back up and continued to wander around the grounds. Violet’s exploration eventually led her to the apple orchard growing out front of the Manor. Here many of the newest guild members were practicing their abilities. Among the perfectly spaced rows of heavily laden fruit trees, Violet spotted Jackurn and Alyrra, each brandishing their weapons at the unsuspecting plants. Violet approached, attempting to apologize but neither of them would have it. “It’s okay, Violet,” Alyrra assured her with a smile. “We were just happy to have you along with us for part of it.” “That just left more big monsters for me to beat up all by myself!” Jackurn explained, who was swinging at, and missing, the apple trees all around them with his overgrown warhammer. His oversize platemail was absent, revealing a short, portly figure with ruffled brown hair and round face. “I’m gonna be the strongest ever!” “Oh, by the way,” Alyrra said, putting aside her practicing to approach Violet. “Dinner is being provided at the guild hall tonight. I was wondering, if you were planning on attending, maybe we could go there together..?” “Oh, is it Friday evening again already?” Violet asked, already cheering up. “I think that’s a great idea. I’d love to go! When is it starting?” “In just a few minutes, I think” Alyrra answered. “So, did you want to go together, or…” “Of course I’d be happy to meet all of you guys there!” Violet beamed. “We’re one big family here at Applewood, after all. Oh, and I bet Ambrose will be there. I need to go apologize to her, too!” Violet dashed off, heading for the dining room in search of her friend. All members of Applewood Manor were welcome around the enormous dining table for that night’s feast. Two tall fireplaces of rough stone flanked the room on opposing ends, yawning at each other with fiery tongues. The flames burned cozy, spitting and sputtering around a generous supply of fresh-cut logs. The meal itself was grand as always: roasted turkey with sides of vegetables: cooked potatoes, carrots, bell peppers and asparagus. They collectively dug in, the clink of silverware and the idle sounds of conversation filling the wide room. “You know what I love about make-believe fantasy food?” Jackurn asked to no one, his mouth still full as he spoke. “Do we want to know?” replied Ambrose, who had recently returned from their raid to join them. “It’s always good here! Not like my mom makes.” “I don’t know. Your mom makes a killer breakfast…” “Yeah!” Jackurn agreed, completely missing the point of Ambrose’s joke. Ambrose kept on, stabbing a fork-full of asparagus to prove her point. “This is the same food, Jackurn. Tastes exactly the same.” “No! In real life it’s yucky.” Ambrose opened her mouth as if to reply, then just shook her head. She turned to address the rest of the table. “No one tell him it tastes the same back home! He couldn’t handle it. It would blow his mind!” “Plus everything is purple here!” Jackurn exclaimed, referring to the vegetable sides. “Make-believe food is more fun when it’s purple!” “Uh, Jackurn,” Violet explained, gently. “These vegetables can be purple back home, too…” “Hah, ha, ha! No they’re not…” Violet started to reply, but Ambrose cut her off with a shake of her head. She pointed to her own noggin, then splayed her fingers out while imitating an explosion sound. Violet took the opportunity to have a closer look at Ambrose. She carried herself surprisingly similar to Orca: both of them presented as proud and strong, unafraid to be who they were. In Ambrose’s case, with the sides of her head shaved, her appearance matched her personality: unapologetic and bold. Ambrose never made any attempt to shy away or lessen herself, unlike how Violet felt most of the time. Ambrose’s red duster was absent that evening, revealing a figure that was not at all shy, just like her personality. She wore a form-fitted, dark leather corset over top a low-cut, sleeveless blouse. This left her muscular arms exposed, as well as putting on display her full-figured size and feminine features. Violet was in awe of Ambrose’s bravery to put herself out there like that, as well as having a robustness she could never match with her unfortunate frame. “Jackurn, the guild can’t afford to keep feeding you,” Ambrose teased. “You eat too damn much.” “I have to grow big in order the be the strongest strong person there ever was!” “That’s going to take a lot more than just food, in that case,” Ambrose joked. “Just wait until you grow up and your metabolism takes a crap on you.” “I am grown up!” Jackurn shouted, suddenly upset. “I’m very grown up! I am at least twenty-ninety-million years more grown up than you!” “Seriously? What are you, like, twelve? Nine?” “No! And you’re a guy in real life but nobody says anything about that!” “You little shit!” Ambrose yelled, shoving back from the table and shooting to her feet. “I’ll kill you!” They shot off, Jackurn running full throttle out of dining room while Ambrose, in hot pursuit, tried to strangle the air in front of her. “Get back here, you little bastard!” The others kept eating, conversation resuming as normal as if nothing had ever happened. This was just another evening at Applewood. Alyrra, who ended up seating herself beside Violet at the table, leaned in close to whisper in an urgent voice. “Is Ambrose really a guy in real life?” Violet just shrugged, chewing on a mouthful of potatoes. “Does it matter?” Alyrra looked disturbed but Violet just took a drink and moved on, paying it no mind. “Oh, I meant to ask!” Violet said aloud, swallowing her bite. “How did Ambrose’s raid go?” “As I understand it,” Aura explained, Kiwi still on his shoulder, shifting constantly to watch the surrounding commotion. “It went poorly. The entire group died halfway through.” “Oh…” Violet wondered how she should feel about that. Upset for Ambrose? Happy for Orca? Annoyed that the brief morning they shared together was abruptly cut short for no reason at all? It was all very confusing. Dinner time dissolved as each attendee eventually excused themselves. The dirty dishes and leftovers, through the magic of convenience and game nonsense, would vanish themselves after a certain time, rendering the act of cleaning up pointless. Violet joined her friends in the common room where Ambrose and Jackurn ended up reappearing. Those needing to leave for the evening filed out, leaving only the oldest guild members remaining. Violet was so grateful for her little family in this place. Whenever things were going poorly in her life, she could always count on these guys making her feel better. It reminded her of why she visited here in the first place, and how fortunate she was for the opportunity to do so. Begrudgingly, Violet also excused herself and left into the night. She had already spent far more time in this place than she had intended, staying the night for the first time ever. As she returned home, she spared a thought for what Orca might have been doing in her own house that evening. ***** VI ***** “Aura, what do you know about Dire Mountain?” “Oh, quite a bit, I would say. What would you like to know, Violet?” After a couple day absence, Violet had caught Aura in the war room where he was studying different charts. Kiwi was preening himself on a nearby bird stand. “Well, you’ve been around here a long time, right?” Violet asked. “Since the first beta build.” “Well, I’ve never been to Dire Mountain. Do you think it might be possible to, like… go through it by myself?” Aura looked up at her with a quizzical expression from behind his desk. Even Kiwi looked sideways over at her. “Ambrose couldn’t get halfway through with an army of twenty. How do you propose you would succeed on your own?” “Uh… By being very sneaky?” “Not likely. They have dragons who can see through stealth.” “And I don’t imagine I would get very far by stabbing my way through? No? Okay…” A pause hung between them. Violet tried and failed to think of a way to navigate a dungeon she wasn’t even powerful enough to visit. “Well, what if I were nice to them?” Violet proposed. “Has anyone tried that yet?” Aura just looked up at her through his skinny frames. “Do you intend to compliment your way past each of the monsters? Is that what you’re asking me?” Violet just sighed, dejected. How was she ever going to see Orca again if she couldn’t even set foot in her dungeon? “Why the sudden interest in Dire Mountain?” Aura asked, his charts long since forgotten. “Is it because of Miss Ambrose’s ongoing raid in that dungeon?” “Well, no. I just saw–heard–that the big boss at the end–well, not big as in big big but just tall and muscular and that kind of thing–that she was just very, uh… nice?” Aura sat there, patiently waiting to Violet’s ridiculous rambling, a ghost of a grin curling one side of his lips. “You mean Orca, queen of the orcs?” Aura asked once Violet had stopped to take a breath. “Yeah, her!” “Not sure I’d choose ‘nice’ as a way to describe her,” Aura replied. “She’s strong enough to cut an entire raid down. She’s taken on twenty players at a time, and won. Though if you did manage to kill her, there would be a nice dagger in it for you.” “Kill her? Why would I want to do that?” Aura just raised an eyebrow at her. Violet took a moment to realize what she had asked before her cheeks started burning in embarrassment. Avoiding Aura’s gaze, Violet looked all around at a room lined with weapons, guides, and gear all singularly designed to do just that: kill monsters. Aura spoke again after a moment’s pause. “If you would like to read about the dungeon and its boss, you could try the library in town. That’s the next best thing to actually being there.” “I guess I could try that… Thanks.” Violet turned to leave before a different thought overtook her. She turned to face Aura once more. “Aura?” “Present.” “Is it possible to bring things here? Like, from real life?” Aura fixed her with a curious look again. “Certainly not. Why do you ask?” “Well, I saw that—I mean, I heard from a friend, that it… might be possible? Maybe?” Violet’s voice rose in octaves as she struggled through the question, becoming less and less sure of herself. Aura favored her with a chuckle before returning to his parchments. “Nope, afraid not. You heard wrong. Have fun at the library.” The library, while very interesting, was no more helpful than Aura had been. There was a very comprehensive bestiary containing detailed statistics and information on every monster. Violet was particularly amused to see an entire section dedicated to Orca, about her stats as a character, with her strengths and weaknesses in combat. How weird must it feel to have your entire existence boiled down to numbers on a sheet of paper, Violet mused. Sadly, there was no mention of Orca’s interests in exotic architecture, being a successful pillow farmer, or of her adorable bunny slippers. Beyond that, the encyclopedia spoke about the dragons and demon-people surrounding the base of the mountain, and how the final encounter itself took place inside the volcano. While sounding very cool, it didn’t help solve the problem at hand. Violet flipped through the pages. The library did an excellent job of capturing the comforting smell of old books on yellowing paper. It really enhanced the experience of being in some ancient library. The dragons could fly at high speeds, use fire and other elemental attacks, swipe with their claws and tails, bite with their teeth, and a whole bunch of other useless things. Violet continued to skim through: iron-hide plating, high health total, no real vulnerabilities to speak of, etcetera, etcetera. She flipped the page again. Demons, like the ones seen in Dire Mountain, had this much health and those kinds of attacks and these kinds of armor scores and these other types of abilities and… and… “This is all stupid game-y stuff!” Violet cried out, slamming the book shut in frustration. “This is no help at all.” Nowhere in this all-encompassing encyclopedia did it list that demons enjoyed watching television, for instance. Violet distinctly remembered seeing a soap opera on during their brief time in the monsters’ dining hall. Drawn in these books were depictions of them all at their most ferocious. Claws out, teeth bore, wings spread, all looking angry and hostile. This contrasted sharply to the image she captured in her mind of those exact same demons sitting at a bar laughing amongst each other. The peek behind the curtain had jaded Violet. She slammed this latest book shut too, sighing deeply. Sliding the volume back onto the shelf, she shot to her feet with fresh determination. “I’ll just have to figure it out for myself!” The stone archway entrance towered overhead. Past two thick wooden doors rose the smoke-capped peak of Dire Mountain. A rough stone path leading up to billowing clouds swirling around the base of this dormant volcano. Thunder rumbled grumbled in the distance like angry giants. Directly behind those looming doors were skulls impaled on spikes and rotted corpses wearing rusted mail plate. “Right. Not intimidating at all…” Violet gulped, feeling suddenly very small. She took a small step forward, and then another, until the towering doorframe stood behind her. Standing mere feet beyond the dungeon entrance, the safety of the streets officially left behind, her boots stood upon the winding gravel path. “Alright. First steps taken. Not so bad so far!” She took another step. Then another. Convincing herself that everything was fine, she began to enjoy the crunchiness of the gravel beneath her boots. And that thunder rumbling in the distance? That was just a big kitty cat purring up on the mountain top. And those corpses and skulls around her? Not real, of course. Just Halloween decorations. Everyone knew that. And those big, winged demons stomping towards her with heavy hoof-falls and wicked curved scimitars? Just big teddy bears, who secretly liked television and hanging out at their local bar. Why, they weren’t so bad after all. They were probably very chummy. “Hello! I’m Violet. Do you happen to know where I could find Orca…” Three wide scimitars pierced her chest in quick succession, pushing all the way out her back. Her breath caught, a burning pain overwhelmed her, her senses failing in an instant. She stumbled forward helplessly, unable to even cry out. Then in an instant, Violet was back facing the dungeon’s doorway again, the volcano looming in the background as if nothing had ever happened. She got up from where she was kneeling in the dirt and brushed off her greaves. “Yeah, I didn’t think it was going to be that easy,” she admitted to herself. “I’ll just have to keep trying!” Violet tugged up her greaves, unsheathed her brand new shimmering turquoise dagger, took a deep breath, and charged forward back into the dungeon. “Alright you big meanies, you tell me where Orca is right now, or I’ll take this dagger and…” She was kneeling back in the dirt in front of the open doorway once more, Dire Mountain looming in the distance. Grimacing as the pain of being skewered faded, she rose back up and charged forward once again. “You just stop that right now, you big mean doo-doo heads!” Violet was kneeling in the dirt in front of the entrance again. Ahead of her, the mountain remained as distant as always. She stomped her feet in frustration, staring daggers at that stupid old mountain. “Fine! New plan…” Violet hunkered down, making herself as small as possible. She crawled into the dungeon, darting from one rock to the next. She got close enough to peek over and watch the three demons standing on the path, tails twitching, arms out and claws raised to look as intimidating as possible. She could hear their deep huffing breaths and their grunting as they stared unmoving toward the entrance. So far so good, Violet thought to herself. Feeling emboldened, she made for the next rock along the path. Then she heard their heavy footfalls stomp toward her and knew what was about to happen. “Oh, fiddlesticks…” She knelt back in the dirt before the entrance, the mountain unmoved. Standing up once again, she stared back out at the path. “I must have made too much noise,” she said to herself. “I just need to be better, like Ambrose is! She would know what to do here…” Her spirit undeterred, Violet set out once more. A minute later, she reappeared back in the same spot. “Too much noise again,” she assured herself. “If I’m ever going to be good enough to see Orca, I need to keep practicing!” She set out again. And then again a moment later. And then again after that. She kept trying, practicing new approaches with new strategies. Should she sneak this way or that way, what rocks could she or couldn’t she hide behind, how close could she get until she pulled their attention, how far could she get if she tried to outrun them? The answer: not very far. Various experiments like these continued on over and over again. It wasn’t until the next day, mid-afternoon, that she got a lucky break. Chewing thoughtfully on hard tack and dried fruits, she was trying to come up with a new strategy when a raiding party arrived, dressed in the flashiest armor and carrying the biggest weapons. Their raid leader took off his winged helmet as he approached Violet. “Is this dungeon free?” Violet gestured toward the entrance: be my guest. Re-applying his helm, he led the charge through the massive doorway, his company shouting in excitement. Stashing the rest of her lunch, Violet followed the last raid member through the gate. She watched as the band charged forward, running into the group of demons with gusto. She crept behind her rock and watched the battle unfold—the demons swatted the heroes away, throwing them through the air or cutting them down with massive cleaving strikes. These three demons stood powerful and menacing, repelling back invaders despite their numbers. The raiding group fell back to the entrance, no doubt regrouping for a second attack. In the meantime Violet waited, daring not to move or breathe or do anything to give away her position. One of the demons had been killed—run through by the business end of a polearm. The other two stood over it, looking with fangs bore toward the entry. This dragged on for some time. Violet felt her heartbeat in her ears, convinced that the demons could hear it as well. They must have known she was there. Was that why they weren’t moving? Was this ridiculous plan doomed to fail from the beginning? If they couldn’t hear her, they could problem smell her, or just sense her somehow, or… “They gone?” one asked the other, turning away from the door at long length. “Yeah, they’re gone,” answered the second, dropping his menacing pose. “Went back to town.” “Nice. Come on, Greg, get up.” The demon reached down where the third demon, who had previously been dead, extended his arm up and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Greg, as was apparently his name, circled around behind some rocks and gathered up something out of Violet’s line of sight. He was speaking to the others all the while. “So then Mary comes home and finds a perfume bottle on her bedside table, right? And she’s all like ‘oh, I don’t use this brand. Who’s could this be?’ And I’m like, you obviously saw your husband’s new secretary use this perfume in the second episode of the fifth season.” “Is that the one where John goes out to get new golf shoes?” asked another of the demons, who had walked over to pick up a particular rock. “That’s the one,” Greg stood back upright, carrying a handful of… bowling pins. A little rough and yellowed with age, but they were unmistakably bowling pins. And that rock the other demon was picking up? It was perfectly spherical with three little holes carved into one side. “Right. So then John comes back, and he’s like ‘oh, I don’t know how that perfume got there, honey. Musta been the neighbor’s,’ which is weird, because there aren’t even any women living at the neighbors.” “Uh, huh. So then what happens?” “Well, it turns out that Mary makes a phone call in secret later on.” Greg had finished setting up the pins at this point, and the other demons were taking turns rolling. “And she says ‘I need to meet you right now. I think he’s on to us.’” “Wait, so she’s having an affair, too?” the other demons asked. “With who?” “Don’t know. I think it might be her boss’s poolboy. Still waiting for the next DVD shipment to arrive.” “Aw, what a cliffhanger!” they complained. “That sucks. How long until we find out?” “Dunno. Could be a few weeks. What I really want is ‘The Young and Single’ season six collector’s set, where they show an extra five minutes of footage that really puts Betty’s and Bob’s relationship in a whole new light. I’m told those two broke up in real life, too.” “No!” the demon gasped. “But I liked them together.” The bowling game continued, with Greg resetting the pins for the other two, all the while exchanging the latest gossip about soap operas and their cast members. Violet watched and listened, feeling much more captivated by their conversation and bowling game than some boring performances as big, scary monsters. She found herself wishing she could sit and watch this all day, just to see how it played out. Unfortunately, her entertainment was soon cut short. Violet heard a warning buzzer pierce the air. It wasn’t a loud shrill, but it was definitely noticeable. Upon hearing it, the three demons took down their pins, stashed their game and took their places staring at the entrance, claws out and teeth bared. She realized at that moment that each of the three were even standing in exactly the same spots as before. The amount of training and rehearsal these monsters must have gone through for these performances was definitely under-appreciated, she decided. The same raiding party had returned, fully restocked and charging in for the same boring battle as before. People were screaming, swords were clashing, people were dying—it was all very trite. Violet much preferred the gossip and the bowling over these faked theatrics. At least those things felt real. Violet took her leave, slipping out in the confusion of the battle. Stepping out of the dungeon entryway, Violet hurried back to town to take her leave. She had some real life research she needed to do. ***** VII ***** The Sun had nearly waned entirely when Violet returned. Without one single weapon in hand, she boldly marched right through the doorway. Chest raised and head held high, she stormed right down the gravel path to see the same three actors in their usual positions. They started toward her as Violet stood planted squarely with hands on her hips. “I know who Mary is having an affair with!” The three stopped, their menacing growls replaced with looks of concern. Violet stuck her finger out toward them, staring them down as they towered well above her height. “And if you kill me again, I will spoil it! I swear to god, I will!” They backed away, hesitantly looking at each other. “How can you know that?” Violet knew that this was Greg talking, even though they looked identical to her. It was his tone of voice that gave it away. “I’ve seen it! I know!” “Impossible! Those episodes aren’t out yet.” “They’re not out on DVD yet. But they are available on the Internet! Which you can’t get. And I watched them! I will spoil every single thing in them unless you tell me what I want to know!” They gasped collectively, looking horrified. Violet stepped forward, staring them down. “Good. Now that we have an understanding, I want to know where Orca is. Take me there right now! Please.” “She’s in the boss room. And we can’t leave our posts! Plus there are too many monsters between here and there. You’d never make it!” “I know that,” Violet said. “That’s why you’re going to open the passage to your employee hallways and let me in through the back.” They looked at each other, huddling up together to whisper amongst themselves. “How do you know about those?” Greg turned to ask. “That’s my secret.” “But, we can’t do that!” Greg hesitated. “I mean, your kind isn’t allowed back there! It’s against all of our rules! Do you know how much trouble we’d get into if…” “Mary gets shot.” The three gasped, sucking in great lungfuls of air like giant Hoover vacuums. “No!” they cried. “Yes! And if you don’t let me in right now, I’m going to say whether she lives or dies!” “Not Mary!” “And you won’t believe who shot her!” Violet persisted, twisting the knife. “Was it John?” Greg asked. “Bob? Mark? Betty? Stan? Billy? Surely not Billy! No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear it!” “It was someone who hasn’t been seen since season three.” More collective gasping. “Is it Ricardo? Not Ricardo!” “Maybe!” Violet replied. “You better let me in that door if you don’t want to find out…” They looked at each other one more time. “You won’t tell anyone, right?” “I promise I won’t tell a soul. I just need to talk to Orca.” Relenting, Greg stepped back a couple of feet and reached down toward an unexceptional portion of flat stone floor. He grabbed at some unseen handle and pulled, lifting open a trapdoor. It swung wide, the door balancing upright on its own. Violet looked down at the newly appeared entrance. Stairs led the way down, accompanied by all-too-familiar handguards and painted stripes on the walls. She made her way down as one of the demons stopped her. “But Mary lives, right?” Violet just shrugged as she slipped by them. “Maybe…” She descended the stairs into the hallway, listening as the metal trapdoor slammed shut behind her. Back in the familiar company of aggressively buzzing fluorescent bulbs and ugly bare drywall, Violet followed the labeled arrows, finding the boss room of Dire Mountain in no time at all. ***** VIII ***** Violet exited the corridors through a particularly large stalagmite. She was in a cave that towered high overhead. To her right was a winding path that led up to where she stood now, populated by dozens demons and several enormous red dragons. At even a casual glance, it was clear that she never had a chance of fighting or sneaking her way through from the beginning. On her left were two large doors carved from stone, their tops cut into flat slopes. Violet approached these, pushing on them as the grinding of rock echoed loudly through the cavern. Several of the monsters behind her turned with curious looks, but she pushed through and shoved the door closed before they could get any ideas. A dark stone corridor led out before her, the light dwindling to near darkness. Violet advanced forward cautiously, casting glances around in the dark. After several footfalls, the light vanished entirely. She heard a door opening above her and to the right. She looked, expecting the worst, and saw instead a peculiar collection of instruments. There was one set of drums, a microphone stand, and two guitars, each hanging on their own stands. A spotlight shone directly down on them, the only light source in the room. From the door behind the instruments emerged four skeletons in grunge clothes. She thought they were actual people at first, but no: these were four literal skeleton musicians dressed in torn jeans and colored mohawks. They each took up an instrument and began to strum, as if warming up. Violet watched in amusement as the skeleton singer cleared his lack-of-throat before shouting into it, his voice booming throughout the room from unseen speakers. “Congratulations, heroes! You’ve battled up the fearsome Dire Mountain all the way to the heart of the Volcano! Your raid of twenty heroes did well to get this far!” “It’s just me,” Violet said, waving her hand. The skeleton didn’t hear. Perhaps it was his lack of ears. “But now, are you ready to face the ultimate challenge? Are you prepared to face the might of the great, the mighty, the fearsome: Orca, queen of the orcs?” The other band members let loose with a dazzling riff, filling the dungeon with a heavy-hitting beat and slick guitar riffs. The pace was fast and energetic–exactly the type of heavy metal action music she would imagine for a grand boss battle. Violet was nodding her head along to the beat, really getting into it, as a shower of fireworks sprayed up from the darkness ahead of her. They were great plumes of fire, complete with rockets exploding into dazzling arrays of color all around the room. They had turned on the overhead lights, revealing a circular arena carved from the rock face. Ascending from a rising platform in the center, behind a show of fiery pyrotechnics, Violet saw a familiar face holding up a monstrously large two-handed battle ax. Violet could hear her shouting in excitement even over the sizzle of flame geysers and the belting blast of the skeleton rockers. Her deep battlecry probably would have been bloodcurdling to most other people, Violet was certain. But to her, she just remembered a woman in pink and white heart pajama pants with enormous fuzzy bunny slippers. “I hope you’re ready for the fight of your lives!” cried he skeleton. Orca roared again, swinging her enormous battle ax around her in a great display of strength. The flame geysers erupted, the fireworks exploded, the drumline slapped, and the bassline sizzled. Violet grinned ear to ear watching the display, thinking back on the few times she watched wrestling on T.V. It was all there: the stage, the hype man, the special effects. She could see it now: Annnnd now, in this corner: weighing in at three-hundred pounds and standing at an impressive seven feet tall, it’s Miss Orca Fuzzy-Feet, against her contender, a scrawny hundred-pound nothing, eighteen-year-old hero girl from the foothills of California… “Your journey ends here, heroes!” Orca roared as the final plume of flames died off around her. “Time for all of you to face the might of–Violet?!” “Hi Orca!” Violet waved. “But first, can you survive Orca’s army of fearsome ogres?” cried the skeletal hype man. “No! No ogres! Abort!” Orca cried, waving her arms up at the skeleton and his band. The rock music swelled, kicking into high gear and drowning out Orca’s words. “Stop the music! Shut it down!” “Kill the heroes!” screamed the ogres as they emerged from side doors, waving their weapons high and charging in a rage. “No! No kill the heroes!” Orca turned to face the ogres, a legion of them spilling out endlessly from doors all around her–dozens in total. “Kill the heroes!” “NO!” Orca raged, slamming the flat of her enormous battle ax against one of the ogres running past her, knocking him clear off his feet. The other ogres saw what she had done and stopped. “Why you do that?” one of them asked. “No battle!” Orca shouted at them, still threatening with her battle ax held high. “There’s no battle today. Go back to your places!” “But… the music!” “No!” Orca repeated. She waved up at the musicians again, but they were lost in the rhythm of their own performance. She screamed up at them in anger, before taking up a rock and throwing it at them. After a few more rocks, they got the message and looked down at her in confusion. “No battle!” Orca shouted at all of them. “No music! False alarm. Go back to your starting positions.” “But… hero!” an ogre said, pointing at Violet. “Kill the hero?” “No! No kill the hero! Kill heroes next time. This doesn’t count. Get back in your starting places!” Violet stepped forward, daring to walked amongst ogres who were still confused about whether or not to kill the hero. “So this is where you work? It’s nice.” “On certain days, yes, this is where I work,” Orca replied, exasperated. She strode toward Violet. “What on Earth are you doing here?” “Well…” Violet stuttered. She realized at that moment that had been so preoccupied by the road getting here, she had never spared a thought about what she would do if she actually arrived here. “I wanted to see you!” Violet concluded. “Okay, but like…” Orca raised her arms at the army of ogres milling around them both. “And then, but there…” She gestured back behind Violet in the direction of the caves. “And just… how!?” “I am very sneaky!” Violet said, beaming with pride. Orca just stood there, jaw gaping and dumb-founded. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” “Am I happy to see you?” Orca replied, still dumb-struck. “I mean, I guess, but like how did you..?” “You guess?” Violet replied, turning suddenly bitter. “What do you mean, you guess?” “I mean, yeah, I’m happy to see you, but how in the world did you get through to this point? I thought for sure you would..?” “Die?” Violet retorted, finishing Orca’s sentence. “Oh, I did die. A lot, actually. But I did it because I thought I had a friend on the other side of this who would be happy to see me. But maybe I just guessed that I did?” “A friend?” Orca replied, still overwhelmed. “Yes! A friend. And I thought, maybe I was hoping, that maybe we were friends and that I could see you again some time. You know, like friends do. But what friends don’t do is guess that they’re happy to see you, or tell you ‘sure it was fun, but I’m gonna go now, good luck out there, bye forever!’ like you told me. So I guess maybe I was wrong after all?” “Woah, woah, hang on now!” Orca replied, who found herself raising her own voice along with Violet, getting even more upset. “I never said that!” “That’s what it sounded like to me!” Violet replied, tears stinging behind her frames. “You didn’t even leave me a way to talk to you again. You just said ‘have a good life’ and slammed the door, like none of it mattered! You never gave me a choice. And now you’re not even happy to see me, after everything I did to get here? Oh, and I brought your stupid poncho back,” Violet reached into a pouch on her hip and pulling out a wad of leather, throwing it at Orca. Orca caught the poncho awkwardly, then just tossed it aside. “I didn’t need that back. And sure I’m happy to see you again, you just caught me off guard is all!” “Yeah? I’m not so sure now. Friends are people that are excited to see you, no matter what. Friends are also people that are willing to go into your dungeon, and fail over and over again, just to watch half a season of a stupid soap opera back home in order to bribe a couple of bowling demons into letting me back down here!” Orca just blinked dumbly down at her several times. “...What?” “Nothing,” Violet replied, more frustrated than ever. “It doesn’t matter. I made it here and brought your poncho back. That was my goal. I guess we’re even now. Good luck out there to you, too!” She turned to the ogres with arms spread wide. “Kill the hero!” “Kill the hero!” cried the ogres in joyous unison. They attacked immediately. The last thing Violet heard was Orca shouting at them at the top of her lungs. ***** IX ***** Orca kicked open the door hard enough to slam against the wall. She stormed across the common room, a dark cloud following as voices hushed at her passing. She pierced the room, finding her quarry and moving to him instantly. “Oh, hi Orca,” Greg said, pulling his gaze away from the soap opera. “You!” Orca raged, slamming an accusing finger between the horns on his forehead. “You’re on door duty at Dire Mountain!” “I am,” Greg replied, his eyes shifting as he squirmed in his chair, suddenly uneasy. “But I didn’t do anything…” “How many trophies did you get off of her?” Orca raged, standing close enough for her hot breath to hit him in the face. “I, uh… I don’t know who you’re…” “HOW MANY?” “Seventy-three!” Greg squealed. “But I didn’t keep all of them! We shared…” The wall behind him interrupted his words as his head was plowed through it. Orca released her grip on his skull; plaster and splintered drywall cascaded down around him. She looked at the others, huffing as loud as a minotaur, daring any of them to speak. Standing back upright, she steeled herself for what was to come next. She raised her chin, puffed out her chest, and marched purposely forward, knowing exactly what needed to be done. “Uh, Violet?” The voice of Jackurn came through Violet’s bedroom door. She had locked herself away since leaving Dire Mountain. Others had come to ask about her well-being before him, and while that was very nice of them, it was not what she wanted. She appreciated their concern, but she just wanted to be left alone with her journaling and her self-deprecating mood. “I’m sorry, Jackurn. Not right now, please.” “Uh, yeah, that’s cool. But, like, I thought you’d want to see something kinda weird.” “Not right this moment, Jackurn. I’m sorry. Maybe later.” “Yeah, yeah, that’s cool.” There was the briefest of pauses before Jackurn continued on. “But it is right outside our windows, if maybe you were curious.” Violet hadn’t been curious. She hadn’t been anything at all. But hearing Jackurn say those words made her curious. So she pulled herself upright, wiped her eyes, adjusted her glasses, and looked out the window. An instant later her bedroom door exploded open, nearly taking Jackurn out. She sprinted across the hall and down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Jackurn followed, lapping up the excitement. Violet jumped onto the ground floor, sprinted across the entry, and burst through the wide doors into the orchard beyond. “Violet, get the others!” Ambrose called out to her, her dual swords locked in combat. “Applewood is under attack!” Violet watched in horror from the landing as dozens of fighters, both heroes and townsmen alike, barreled onto the orchard grounds in one growing mass. The growing mob carried any arms they could muster, running in to join the fray and team up against the single, large intruder. “No! We’re not!” Violet shouted bitterly, leaping over the banister and running as fast as she could across the grounds. She threw herself between them, leaping in front of Orca with arms spread wide. She stared Ambrose down and refused to look away. “Could you get the hell out of the way? I’d like to stab the monster!” “No!” Violet replied. “Not this monster. She is my guest!” “What the hell, Violet? Have you lost your damn mind?” Violet looked towards the grounds gate, seeing the murderous crowd wash past their rows of trees. They must have chased Orca through the streets of this entire city, judging from the amount of them. They looked like a crazed pitch-fork wielding crowd, cheering for blood. She grabbed Orca by the hand and half-lead, half-dragged the giant orc back into the Manor. They sprinted past Jackurn, who grinned like a fool all the while. He may have been the only person in existence who was excited to see Orca here, bless him. They bolted up the stairs and made for her bedroom door, slamming and locking it behind them. Violet was heaving and panting, exhausted by the exertion. Orca, meanwhile, just looked around the tiny closet-sized room, her breathing perfectly steady. She had to duck her head to even fit under the low ceiling. Orca crossed the room in two steps and opened the curtain to peer out the window at the crowd gathered out front. “Sorry about all that,” Orca said, gesturing out the window. “But like you had said to me, I didn’t have a way to talk to you again. So I really had no choice…” Orca’s voice trailed off, her gaze shifting downward or around the room. She was clearly nervous, but not because of the attention outside. But Orca forgot about all of it the moment Violet embraced her in an enormous hug. “I’m always happy to see my friends!” Violet exclaimed, beaming. ***** X ***** There was an urgent knock at Violet’s door. Ambrose’s voice carried her distinct, unmistakable edge of steel as she spoke. “Violet, why is there a raid boss in your bedroom?” “Ambrose, I promise that I am fine and everything is okay,” Violet said back to the door. “And I promise to explain everything soon. I’m going to need to trust me and give me just a moment here, please.” There was a brief pause. “Violet, that’s a raid boss.” “Yes it is, Ambrose.” “In your bedroom.” “Yes, Ambrose.” Another short pause. “That’s a raid boss. In your bedroom...” “There is a good reason for that, I promise. And I will explain all of it. But if you could please give us a moment, I would appreciate it.” A moment later a second voice joined the fray. “Do you need help, Violet?” “No, thank you, Alyrra. We’re okay. Thank you for asking.” Then there was a longer pause. This time Jackurn’s voice broke the silence. “Could Miss Orc-Boss-Lady get me a new war-hammer? Or maybe three of them?” “She’s not Santa Claus,” Violet explained patiently, flashing an apologetic look back to Orca. “That’s not how that works.” “Oh…” Violet waited, wondering who else would call on her this time. After a long moment of nothing, she decided that they were finally alone. Violet invited Orca to sit next to her on the tiny twin bed, which groaned painfully under her weight. “Sorry about them,” Violet said, but Orca cut her off with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand. “Not your fault. That’s exactly the reaction I expected if I were to ever came here. I knew what I was getting into.” “So..?” Violet said, beaming up at the giant orc next to her, her full attention now on her visitor. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Why’d you do it? Why’d you risk coming here knowing you would get attacked like that?” “Well, someone recently told me that I, uh…” Orca hesitated, her eyes scanning the ceiling for the right words. “I may have made some unfortunate word choices. That I may have been a not-great friend. Or, for that matter, that I even had a friend at all? If I do have one now, still? If she hasn’t changed her mind about that..?” “Wait, have you never had even one single friend before?” Violet asked. “Is it because orcs are made for fighting and killing, but not for friends?” Orca groaned deeply, covering her face in embarrassment in her hands as she leaned back against the wall. “Ugh, don’t bring up all that again… But it’s true, unfortunately. I don’t have friends, not like you obviously have here. I have co-workers I defend dungeons with. I have the goblins I watch over. I have Throgg, who… I’m not getting into that. And my ogres make for very poor company, as you recently found out. “But never once have I known someone crazy enough to die seventy-three times just to return a stupid old poncho.” “It wasn’t just the poncho,” Violet explained, but Orca was already nodding her understanding. “I think I’m figuring that out. I didn’t know it then. You really did shock the hell out of me, showing up at my job all by yourself and out of nowhere! I still don’t know how you did it.” “Well, I never realized that your hesitation about being around here was so justified, judging from the reaction here today,” Violet replied. “Sorry if I didn’t understand before.” “Well, to be fair, I had never tried it before today.” She sat back upright, looking squarely at Violet. “But we are still friends, then? If you haven’t changed your mind about that yet?” Violet chuckled at Orca’s uncertainty, but held out her own hand without hesitation. “Yes. Friends. If you’d like to be.” “I think I would like that,” Orca replied, gladly shaking Violet’s tiny hand. Then Orca look turned solemn as she released Violet’s hand. “So, I don’t actually know how this is supposed to work…” “What do you mean?” Violet asked. “Heroes and monsters,” she explained as she gestured to the window. “I mean, you saw the response out front. We’re supposed to be killing each other. What does ‘being friends’ mean in a place like this?” “I don’t know,” Violet said, honestly. Her smile never wavered as she looked up at Orca. “But I’m willing to figure it out as we go, if you are!” Orca smiled at that, squeezing Violet’s hand. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re insufferably nice?” “Actually, yes,” Violet beamed. “All the time! Also, we’d better head back downstairs soon before my friends literally die from curiosity. They’re an awesome bunch, once you get to know them. Are you ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Orca replied with a shrug. The bed sighed in relief as Orca lifted herself off of it. “Let’s go meet your tiny, angry hero friends.” Orca and Violet filled up a three-person couch. Directly facing them was Ambrose, front and center with her arms crossed over her chest, scowling perpetually. Flanking her were Jackurn and Alyrra, one looking elated and the other befuddled. Surrounding their couch and crowding together to fill every inch of standing room available was every friend, guild member, and curious human who could physically shove themselves into the room. Violet, who disliked being a spectacle at the best of times, sat uncomfortably, fidgeting her hands and shifting her gaze to everyone and no one. Meanwhile Orca, who clearly was no stranger to the limelight, sat with her arms in her lap and an amused grin stuck on her face. She looked out at everyone but coming back at Ambrose. Orca basked smugly in the warm, radioactive glow coming from the anger in her eyes. “So, uh… hello,” Violet broke the silence, her voice faltering. “I’m Violet.” “We know who you are!” Ambrose thundered. “Why did you invite a raid boss into our guild house?” “Oh, right. Well, uh… for those of you who don’t know, this is Orca.” “Hello!” Orca said with a wave, still grinning. “And, uh… She’s an orc.” “I am!” Orca agreed, endlessly amused. “Violet, I swear to god, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to kill both of you!” “Well, actually, there’s not much to tell,” Violet said to Ambrose. “Orca and I are friends!” Orca nodded her approval, as if that explained everything. Meanwhile, no one else moved. “What the hell does that mean?” Ambrose replied. “Well, when two people like each other and want to spend time together, they become friends…” “I KNOW WHAT FRIENDS MEANS, YOU FREAKING MORON!” Ambrose was growing more and more red in the face. Veins began to stand up and introduce themselves along her forehead. Inwardly, Orca was lapping it all up like a dog, loving every bit of it. “How are you friends with… with some stupid game monster?” Ambrose asked. “I was friends with a squirrel once,” Jackurn said. Nobody acknowledged him. “Well, it’s a funny story, actually,” Violet replied. “You see, I found some, like… Well, actually, Aura could probably explain it better than I could. Where is Aura, anyway? I don’t see him here.” “He took off a moment ago,” Ambrose answered. “Now quit changing the subject!” “Yes, well, so I found these tunnels, like service tunnels…” “Uhh, Violet,” Orca said, looking down at her with concern. “I don’t think we should be saying that in front of…” She bobbed her head in the direction of the crowd. “Those are supposed to be secret, remember?” “Oh? Well, I mean, these are my friends. So I think it’s okay if they know.” “All of them are your friends?” Orca asked, staring bewildered at the unblinking crowd. “Well… yeah. I mean, most of them. I don’t know each and every person I’m seeing right now, but we’re all very friendly here. We’re a nice guild.” Meanwhile, Ambrose was changing from bright red into more of a purple. Violet saw her looking about ready to boil over and brought herself back on topic. “Okay, well, there are these hallways. Secret hallways. And I got myself lost in one where I ran into Orca. We got to talking and she was really nice. We had a sleepover at her place which had a million pillows and she made me breakfast and now we’re friends!” “You skipped over my favorite part,” Orca added, looking down at her new friend. “Where you went through Dire Mountain by yourself just to give me back my poncho.” “Oh, right! And, uh… That’s it! Any questions?” “I have a question!” Jackurn said, his hand raised. Nobody acknowledged him. “What in the actual name of Satan’s left testicle are you talking about?” Ambrose raged. “Secret hallways? Sleepovers? And I’m calling bullshit on you clearing Dire Mountain! I ran a high level group through there and we wiped on the dragon mini-boss. There’s no way in hell you did it on your own!” “Hah! You died to Betsy…” Orca chuckled. “You!” Ambrose shot to her feet, shoving an angry finger at Orca, amusing her even further. “I’m not talking to you! I’ll deal with you later.” Orca just crossed her legs, folding her hands on her lap while grinning savagely at her. She couldn’t wait. “Well, I didn’t clear Dire Mountain…” Violet admitted. “I went around it, using those service tunnels I was talking about.” “So that’s how you got to me!” Orca cried out. “Looking back on it, I really should have realized that…” “Okay, again, what tunnels?” Ambrose asked. “What the hell are you talking about?” “Secret tunnels. And it’s for the monsters to go home from the dungeons or move around to the different places. You know, like Disneyland! Secret, employee-only hallways.” “I love Disneyland!” Jackurn cried out. Nobody acknowledged him. “No,” Ambrose said flatly, taking her seat again with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “No, what?” Violet asked. “No to all of it! They’re just monsters, Violet. Mindless fodder for the game. N.P.C.’s. They do not need ‘secret tunnels’ to move around. They are not employees, they’re not even people! They’re stupid little primitive A.I. that do nothing but stand there and get killed. They do not eat, they do not sleep, they do not go home for the night, and they do not have ‘sleepovers.’ And they most especially do not have friends! So, no. No to all of it. I utterly reject every word you just said!” Orca nudged Violet gently with her elbow. “This is why heroes aren’t supposed to know. They couldn’t handle it.” “You got something to say, Chunky?” “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Orca rose from her seat, matching Ambrose. The entire room collectively cowered back as a hushed silence fell. Orca towered head and shoulders over Ambrose, but that didn’t stop her from staring the Orc down. “You heard me, dipshit!” “No, no, no!” Violet cried out, jumping between the two again. “Ambrose, you’re being mean to my friend!” “No, I’m being mean to a glorified toaster! They’re just made to look like they’re real, Violet. That’s not a real person. If you take off the wrapping paper, it’s all ones and zeroes underneath. Nothing else!” “Beep, beep, boop,” Orca mocked. “Shut it!” “Enough, you two!” Violet pleaded. “Ambrose, it’s all true, I promise. I can prove it to you! I could take you there.” “That’s a really bad idea,” Orca warned. “No amount of evidence in the world could convince me that the Jolly Green Terminator over there is a real boy,” Ambrose replied. “What I am concerned about is this weird mind-control thing she seems to have over you.” “That’s not… no,” Violet just sighed. “She’s not mind-controlling me into being her friend, Ambrose.” She just snorted, leering up at Orca. “We’ll see about that.” Ambrose stormed out of the room, leaving behind an awkward silence in her wake. “I had a sleepover once,” Jackurn said, cutting through the sudden quiet. Nobody acknowledged him. “So, uh…” Violet said, looking at those remaining. “Any other questions?” ***** XI ***** The questions were abundant and varied, eventually growing more mundane as the night carried on. As Orca’s presence became less of a spectacle, those not of the guild began to filter back out the door. Those who were in the guild gradually returned to their normal day. Eventually the common room was back down to its usual crowd, and even those that remained paid less mind to their guest. “I have another question!” said Jackurn, who up to this point had been an endless fountain of irrelevant interrogations. “How do you poop?” “Through my fingers!” Orca cried out, pointing them menacingly at Jackurn. He howled with laughter, holding his side as he collapsed onto the floor. Alyrra spoke over him as his cackling continued ceaselessly. “So, you two being friends now… what does that mean, exactly?” “Well, we don’t completely know yet,” Violet answered earnestly. “We’re still figuring all of this out.” Another question flew out from the back of the room. “These secret tunnels, how do we get to them?” “You don’t,” Orca answered. “They’re designed only to open for monsters and never for heroes. You’re not even able to see them, so don’t bother looking. Violet getting in was just a fluke.” It was at that moment that Ambrose filed back into the room, carrying with her a hefty linen bag filled to the brim. She dragged a nearby end table directly in front of Violet, dumped the bag down onto that table, and started pulling out items. “Drink this,” Ambrose ordered, shoving a corked flask of swirling blue liquid into Violet’s face. “What is this?” Violet asked, taking the flask and looking it over. “That is a mental acuity potion,” Orca explained. “It relieves the imbiber of any mental status effects or ailments, including but not limited to mind control.” “Ambrose, I already told you that…” “Yeah, I don’t think she’s listening,” Orca observed. “Just drink it. It won’t hurt you.” Violet did as bidden, making a face at the coppery aftertaste. Ambrose took the flask and handed her a new one, this one swirling green. “And that is a mental fortitude potion,” Orca said, flatly. “It protects the mind against mental attacks, including but not limited to mind control…” Like before, Violet drank it, making an even more sour face. And like before, Alyrra took the empty flask and pulled out a fresh new one, handing it to Violet. “And that… is a mental clarity potion,” Orca said. “Take a wild guess what that does.” “Ambrose, this is silly!” Violet complained. “I’m not under mind control!” Ignoring her, Ambrose pulled a large copper amulet out of her bag. She shoved it onto Violet’s forehead and watched the amulet’s surface with intense scrutiny. “What is happening now..?” “That is an amulet of magic detection,” Orca explained to Violet, strumming her fingers on her greaves. “I could explain that, too, if you like.” “Ambrose, could you just…” “Drink!” Ambrose ordered, cutting her words short. Sighing her resignation, Violet did as bidden, wondering what these magical concoctions would do when mixed all together in her stomach. Ambrose took this latest empty flask and her amulet, putting them both into her bag before producing a different gray-colored amulet and shoving that onto Violet’s forehead as well. “Did you go into town and buy all of this just now?” Violet asked. “How many more do you have?” “All of them. Here, wear these.” Ambrose thrust no less than a dozen necklaces into her arms. Violet just held the mess of loops in her hands, pleading eyes turning up to Orca. “I could explain each of those to you, if you like,” she explained calmly. “How do you know all this stuff?” Violet asked, placing one chain after another around her neck. By the end she had such a mess of metal, jewels, and beads hanging around her she felt like an antique store mannequin. Every movement she made sounded like wind chimes. “It’s our job to know the items we give out,” Orca explained. “We have to memorize each item, what they do, and how many we give out per day. It helps us know what to expect when you wear them against us later on. There’s also strict limits on some of this stuff. Two of those necklaces you’re wearing now are exceptionally expensive, you should know.” “Oh, I hate that you wasted all of your money on me!” Violet said to Ambrose, who by this point was shoving a white quartz-like crystal in front of Orca and studying it intently. “You could just hand me the bag and save us both some time,” Orca said, her voice still flat. Ambrose ignored her as she worked in silence, going through each and every single item in the bag. By the end of it, there was an overflowing mess of crystals, tomes, jewelry, and trinkets on both of their laps. “Are we done here?” Orca asked. She was now wearing five rings, had seven of her own necklaces on, four crystals sitting on her lap, two wands in her hands, and one curious cloth beanie of rainbow colors on her head. She felt like a discount Christmas tree. “Never!” Ambrose replied. She gathered up her toys, shoved them back into the bag and marched out again. “That was fun,” Orca said after Ambrose had left. “I look forward to playing dress up with her again. I could bring my own tiara and princess gown next time!” “Sorry about all that,” Violet said, removing the last necklaces that Ambrose hadn’t taken back. “She means well, I promise.” “Yeah, yeah… On that note, I think I’m going to turn into a pumpkin soon.” Orca stood, removing the last of her pretty, pretty jewelry. “As always, it’s been very entertaining. Thank you for hosting me. Please thank Princess Sour-puss for the party favors, they were delightful.” Violet fixed her with a stern but tired look. Orca just grinned, reassuring her. “I’m just joking. Mostly.” “I better walk you to the exit,” Violet said, standing. “We don’t need a repeat of this afternoon’s excitement.” They made their goodbyes to those that remained in the common room and left the Manor. Exiting through the large doorway, they strolled leisurely through the Applewood orchard toward the gate. The sun was setting, creating a vibrant array of yellows and reds on the scattered clouds above. Violet appreciated how beautiful it was out here tonight, as it always seemed to be in this place. Orca stopped to investigate a particularly plump apple. “So how are we supposed to keep in touch from our opposite sides of this place?” “You mean, you don’t want me dropping in on you during work again?” Violet teased. “Well, wouldn’t that just put a bee in Ambrose’s bonnet… But there could be easier ways, for sure.” “What about Greg, from Dire Mountain?” Violet asked. “He let me in once. Maybe he’ll do it again?” “Yeah, uh… He might be in recovery for a few days before returning back to work.” Violet crossed her arms over her chest and fixed Orca with an angry scowl. What might have once been intimidating was far outdone by her perpetually angry friend, leaving Violet looking as cute and threatening as an angry child. Orca just laughed, picking the apple and eating it as they went. “He’ll be fine… eventually. Monsters are made of tougher stuff. It’s okay. “But back on point,” Orca continued. “I was doing some thinking about our predicament. How do I reach you when you’re here at home without half the city chasing after me?” Violet fixed Orca with a confused look, pointing back at the Manor. “You know I don’t actually live there, right?” “Huh? What do you mean?” “People don’t… I mean, us heroes–we don’t actually live here. I mean, for some of us it feels like we do,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. “But, no. We have homes outside of here we go back to.” “You don’t live in that big house back there? I saw your ridiculously tiny bedroom. You don’t sleep there?” “No. The bedrooms here are mostly just for looks, or a place to store our stuff when we’re away,” Violet explained. “We live in the real world, or, uh… I guess maybe this place is its own little real world, too? I mean the place where all your human stuff comes from.”
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