Bolgrith detects one aura of magic deeper within the cave, and immediately remembers Balion’s vanished body. However, his sense buzz with the multiple auras and strengths radiating from Naja’s corpse. One of the magical items is Balion’s cloak.
Rolg finds several items, some worn and some stored in Naja’s pack, that could be of some use: a silver headband of intertwined snakes holding a single ruby on the forehead, an amulet containing a single, large reptilian scale, a pair of circular prismatic goggles, a heavily-scuffed and scratched dull grey metal ring, a wide oak ring bearing a crescent moon carved into the center and lined with berried vines, a black leather belt with a large silver buckle depicting the image of a tiger, a battered, leather-bound notebook that has endured much use and wear, a hardbacked, scale-covered tome with tabs to quickly find chapters and a claw clasp, one well-kept black leather-bound book secured closed with leather cords, and three unabridged dictionaries (Common-Goblin, Common-Giant, and Common-Elf, respectively). Inside the pack is also a sizable pouch carrying five hundred platinum bits, a half-full bottle of wine, and a tin of dates.
Bolgrith finds magical auras on the headband, goggles, rings, belt, and the green-scaled tome held closed by a claw. As the adventurers study, Balion’s body quietly reappears where he fell from Naja’s deadly spell, minus his cloak. His pack lays open and a few of his pockets are turned out.
Simon returns a respectful nod to Logan, and his eyes brighten at the mention of Patrick and Brenan Stonebit. “The bravery and service of your father is known to many in the Commonwealth. Call me Simon, save the “Sir” for the court and their pomp. I trust that Brenan is doing well -when we parted he seemed determined to drink himself blind- though I had hoped he would keep mum about our goings. But! As Deadeye saw fit, you found us here and just in time. You have our thanks, lieutenant Stonebit.”
Simon shifts uneasily. “In truth, I will tell you the purpose of our trek, but we lost at least one of our number today. Please let us bury him before we discuss it.”
“Bolgrith, did you notice the manner of Aladdin’s disappearance? Do you know anything about that?”
Aladdin’s disappearance was not like the false-Balion’s invisibility witnessed the day before. Apparently, his problem summoning his eidolon worsened, and resulted in this odd manifestation of the conjuring magics. Bolgrith supposes that Aladdin may have gone to Squall’s home plane, but there is no evidence to support this, nor has he read of such a thing happening. The spell needed to voluntarily shift planes requires a very strong magical ability, that much Bolgrith could be certain of. Wherever Aladdin is, it is a surer bet that he did not intend on going there.
Simon’s comment on Brenan is not surprising -he was oft heard bellowing “WORK HARD, DRINK HARD” at any and all hours of the day. And night. It is joked that a drunk Brenan works harder than ten sober lumberjacks (a joke that he attests to be true).
"Jamie, please help me. We must attend our fallen dead." Bolgrith says as he moves to retrieve Balions body. Respectfully he helps carry the Ranger out of the cave into the sunlight. Finding a suitable place on a nearby hillside, the heavy hands of the dwarf prepare a grave, and a simple stone to mark it.
"Ballion Greyhands, Ranger of the wild. He stood proud and true for that which he believed in. Though sometimes fooled, in the end he did not abandon his fellows, and he died fighting a great evil." He pauses before continuing. "The road is long/ and before it's end/ not all will finish. Though those that stop/ in this lifes end/ evermore the Path wanders."
This is playing in the background.
The Priest opens in right hand towards the grave, palm facing outward in salute. "A barátja dwarrow. Egy barátom nekem."
Lowering his hand, Bolgrith bows his head, waiting to see if anyone else had words.
Rolg nods his head, pleased that the thing was properly done.
As a show of respect in the Hobgoblin fashion, Rolg scoops up a small pinch of dirt from the gave and sprinkles it lightly to rest up the grave again.
"You fought alright."
Rolg strides from the gave to see to the cave and speak to Jamie.
"Are you alright? You did well considering."
Simon is silent as he helps with the grave, and listens quietly to the words of the others. After a few moments of quiet, he intones,
”Although his time seemed all too brief—
Be not burdened with undue grief.
He left us with a sword in hand,
Perhaps now his soul found relief.”
After a solemn nod, he turns to leave, and stops to rest a hand on the dwarf.
“When you are ready, Bolgrith, many of us are hurt,” he murmurs.
The pit-fighter assists the dwarf and lordling, and adds nothing to the words spoken over the grave.
She leans against a cave wall when Rolg speaks to her. She scowls in effort as she attempts what she doesn’t do best: thinking. “I’ve learned a thing or two out here. There are worse things in the world than the scum that crawl into the fighting pits. I’d wager if I went back I’ll have a fair shot at the Redmud, and be making a lot of gold cutting down peons...”
Jamie decisively begins to pack her things.
“I think I’m gonna head back south. But before I go, that last fight was a doozy, and some gold will put the spring back in my step.”
Logan nods at the mention of his cousin "Aye, he seemed to be well when I saw him. Drunk-very drunk, in fact- but well, nonetheless. We can talk whenever you and your party feel up to it. The loss of a companion is like the loss of a family member. Anything that I can do to help, please let me know Simon"
Standing in respect for the honored dead, Logan listens to the eulogies spoken with a solemn and respectful demeanor.
The Priest nods at Simons request, before the group splits up hand meets gauntleted hand, and the warm blue flames spread from his body healing all they touch.
As he moves away from the grave he begins speaking, not to anyone in particular. "Alladin, was forced away from here. I don't know how, who, or what might have caused it. Maybe his connection with Squall, so tenuous these past weeks finally broke, or something. I just don't know. All I do know is that the kind of magic required to do something like that, it's tremendous. I do not think Alladin did it of his own volition."
Having said his piece the dwarf slowly walks back to the cave entrance. Retrieving his shield he says; "Jamie should have a portion of Balions earnings. She has fought bravely, and stayed by our side ever since we started this damn trek." He closes his eyes and breathes deeply before continuing, speaking directly to the girl now. "Deciding to return to your home is your choice, and whatever your decision I will support you. If you think it wise to try to make your way back, alone, I wish you the best of luck. We will continue to the goal we set out for, and if gold is your desire, know that we are sure to encounter far more before this tale is told." The short Priest reaches up and pats the pit fighter on the shoulder before moving deeper into the cave, kneeling to examine the corpse of Naga.
Squall slumps when the crossbow bolt buries into his chest. The eagles swarm in as the cloudly monster disentangles himself from the unconscious eidolon. The vaporous orb moves toward Aladdin as the summoned raptors pull strings of fur and flesh from Squall. Suddenly, the floor beneath the stormborn gives way, and he hears a roar of rage from the otherworldly guardian following by a deafening crack before he sucked downward at a great speed.
The sorcerer hurtles head over feet, spinning wildly in all directions, with no discernable gravity. In the confusion, it takes a moment for his other senses to sharpen. He suddenly realizes that while he cannot see his body, his right arm and chest is experiencing extreme cold, so badly he may already have frostbite. His left arm buzzes with energy, all its muscles enduring intense spasms, as though on the receiving end of a lightning spell. The right leg and lower torso feel harsh, unrelenting heat, and Aladdin knows he will already have terrible burns. The left leg feels cold, not as chilly as his right arm, and most notably, very wet. As far as Aladdin can tell, his head and neck are in a sea of blue flame, like that which emanates from Bolgrith when he evokes his healing powers. The stormborn’s head feels like it is inflating, and while his skull feels like it may burst at any moment, whatever fills it is pure ecstasy.
This wide range of sensations all over Aladdin’s body is wreaking havoc on his nervous system, and his mind.
The electrical effect on his left arm tickles. And prickles. Aladdin suddenly has an insatiable desire for cats. Bats can be cats. Can be rats can be hats can gnats can be that’s can be thises. This is the kisses that dismisses the hisses of pisses on risssky businesses, surveying the purveying of treats, cheats, sheets, sweetmeats, and LOVELY WOODEN SHOES. Blood is to life what wife is to strife what knife is to blood is to life what wife is to knife what strife is to life what blood is to wife what life is to strife I need to clean my fingernails what knife is to wife what dried crimson crusties been in there for days now life is to wife what blood is to strife what where are my fingernails? I left them right here blood is to fife what wife is to strife what life is to the WORST BIRTHDAY EVER. I should buy a boat. Made of snakes for snakes by snakes. Snakes. Is there an echo in here? An echo? Here?! Stop. You stop. I told you first. I told YOU first. Stop copying me! STOP COPYING MEEEEEEE…
To add to the unquiet chaos of his unhinged mind, the stormborn can feel parts of his body succumb to various worlds he touches. In fact, it feels as though his right arm and chest are frozen solid, left leg and waist are made of fire itself, and the bones of his left leg seem to wobble fluidly. Even with his affinity for the storm, his left arm feels like a cloth wildy unfraying in all directions. The blue flame enveloping his head bores even deeper, and never before has Aladdin endured such a painful and wonderful pleasure as the spark of life fills him to the limits that his physical form can sustain.
"Bolgrith has a point, Jamie. Wait," Simon divides Balion's gold evenly among them, adding 340 gold bits to each share of the platinum found in Naja's pack. "There."
He stores the jeweled headband and the ruby in his bag as the party grabs the rest. "I hope Aladdin is not gone forever. Squall was able to appear and disappear easily, maybe he will help our mage friend back to us," the young noble hopes aloud.
Jamie shoulders Balion’s haversack after collecting her share of gold and platinum, and shakes her head. “Half of these fights I don’t remember the end of, I get knocked out so often. Every time I wake up in the morning, my head hurts. Maybe I’ll stay, maybe I won’t. Besides, I thought this was milord’s mission: to find Wolf-Mouth Cave? This is it, isn’t it?”
Stripped of valuable possessions, Naja’s scaly corpse immediately evaporates in black trailing smoke. A sudden wind carries it high overhead, and it dissipates to nothing under the blue sky and bright sun.
The crushing sensory overload and the frantic insanity rampaging through his body and mind spins faster and faster. Aladdin knows he cannot endure a second longer, as he can feel his very flesh unravel at a blinding speed. His mind races so quickly it cannot think the thoughts even after they are thought and they are whisked away and replaced with more half-thoughts. It will all be over soon. Everything is blurring together! Ice! Fire! Lightning! Life! It all touches, it is all separate and one. Torrents of raw energy rip through the sorcerer’s body, or the husk of it, and in his final moment, the madness is still. Rest, at last...
Simon clears his throat, nodding at Logan before answering Jamie. “Our objective was to locate this ‘Key of Honfogalas’, said to be found in Wolftooth Cave. We received our instructions from a mysterious person, using the alias of ‘Karajhin’.” He raises a hand to forestall any protest, “I know, I know. Why follow the orders of someone we know nothing about? Heh, perhaps for that very reason, to riddlespeak. It is my hope that once we retrieve this item, this mystery will be ousted, either by his design or by our ransom of this key. His vast knowledge and resources suggest a man of great means, and it would be a disservice to the Commonwealth and the Wyldotes if I neglected to investigate a man of such power.”
“Now, brace yourself, Logan: I set sail nearly two months ago into distant, uncharted waters, far beyond the Merspires. If you will suspend laughter for a moment, I searched for the fabled land of Hamonreld, and found it. Think of it! The land thought to be one in the dreamtales of fantasy -is real! That is where I met Rolg, Bolgrith, our departed Balion, and the absent sorcerer, Aladdin. You should know that this mysterious fellow, ‘Karajhin’, summoned each of them personally to meet me the day after my arrival to their land. Unsettling, to say the least, since all freefolk here consider Hamonreld to be in stories told to babes at the teat and youngsters by the fire.
“So, once we find the Key of Honfogalas, we’ll be closer to learning who this shadowy character is. It was my hope to travel north in secrecy, but if you found us, word will reach my father soon enough. If you are going to simply return to Stonebit and fill a report, please say that we out on reconnaissance. I don’t want to be locked away as a madman before my twenty-first year,” he ends with a jesting tone, but anyone who listens can hear nervousness behind it. He smiles at Logan, unsure if the lieutenant thinks him mad or simply brash.
Jamie nods at Simon’s account. “I don’t know the truth of it, but that’s the story they've stuck to since they hired me in Hagglesport.”
The young lieutenant tries to keep an open ear as he listens to the young man speak. The mention of Hamonreld widens his eyes, but he contains his surprise from showing itself in any other way. After Simon concludes, Logan considers everything that he said and, after a moment, speaks. "Though I am hesitant to admit this, I want to believe you. Regardless, however, of whether or not I do, the fact of the matter is that I cannot justify putting down my sword to go back to Stonebit and take up quill and parchment with the knowledge that my doing so would be to gamble with the lives of this group when it comes to any situation where my blade could make the difference. The way I see it, reports are to be made at the end of a mission and this journey you are on is not yet over. With all this in mind, Simon, you have my aid and support. This 'Karajhin' sounds quite interesting, though..."
Simon nods approvingly. “A man of action, I see. Very well, lieutenant! We gladly accept your aid.”
The lordling pats Logan on the shoulder before addressing everyone. “Our instructions tell us we will find the Key of Honfogalas in the cave, though I did not see it right away. Perhaps we need to look under the boulders somehow? Let’s take a look over that cave again.”
Simon enters the cave, studying the walls as he rounds the bend in the tunnel.
"We should examine that rift in the back wall. It seemed to extend further into the mountain." Bolgrith calls after the young lord. He regards the Boarderguard soldier evenly, and nods to him before following after Simon.
Returning the dwarf's nod, the soldier enters the cave. "Do we know anything about this Key and why Karajhin might desire it?"
"No." Rolg says irritably. "No one goes anywhere until we get Aladdin back. Get the fire going and prepare food. Bolgrith, what can you tell us?"
Stopping as he heads toward the cave due to the reminder of the missing companion, Logan turns to address Rolg "You are absolutely right." he looks to Bolgrith, "You said, if memory serves, that someone or something forced him from this place. Is there anything that can be done to confirm of it was accidental or intentional?"
از خواب بیدار انسان از آب قدیمی.وظیفه شما این است که هنوز انجام نداده است.باز دروازه گریان، و بقیه از نوع خود را.
Wake up Azlanti. Your task is not yet done. Open the Weeping Gate, and free the rest of your kind.
Aladdin opens his eyes to be floating in a bright void, every horizonless distance a silvery sheen. Dark circles and ovals blemish the pure and serene planescape, and the stormborn can see from the closest that these are small portions of several other planes calved off into contact with this one. It seems as though this plane is one of transition or travel. In evidence to this, Aladdin sees several distant beings of opaque, humanoid forms moving to these different “islands” of other planes. The edges of their visage are wispy and insubstantial.
ما می تواند به شما کمک کند مثل این دوباره. در حال حاضر، به خانه خود بروید.به دست آوردن سفال ذوب نیست.ما را فراموش نکنید.
We cannot help you like this again. Now, go to your home. Obtain the Unmelting Shard. Do not forget us, stormborn.
The one born of the storm feels a gentle, but insistent gravity pull him in a certain direction through the silvery void.
Jamie quietly follows the adventurers back into the cave, mumbling something about one more hot meal.
Aladdin knows this place to be the Astral Plane, as he coasts by circular windows into other worlds. After this realization, the stormborn knows that with enough willpower, he can manipulate the direction of this persistent pull. The wispy forms pass closer, a few sparing him no more than a glance as they proceed to their destination. For the most part, Aladdin is ignored by the travelers.
Simon peers into the narrow crevasse. He carefully extends an arm inside, up to his shoulder. Frowning he backs away and looks again. “At the very end of my reach, the crack feels like it widens. But I can’t see...”
He turns to the others. “I know nothing of stonework, or how such large amounts of solid rock holds itself up. Does this crack seem normal to you?” The lordling points the question to the dwarf, but then looks up at the others in case they have any insight.
While Bolgrith’s search of magic turns up only the imbued items worn by his companions, the deepsighted eyes of his kind notice that the wide crack at the back of the cave appears to widen slightly and continue deeper into the rock, turning sharply right after a few feet. Moreover, the texture of the stone at the turn suggests that this fissure was hewn by stone-carving tools. Backing up to reassess the deceptive break in the stone, he thinks that some of his more spry companions, such as Aladdin or Simon, might be able to squeeze through, especially since the opening widens after about a foot or so. As for himself, Bolgrith knows he would need to remove his armor to even consider an attempt at entry.
"No lad, I'm fair confident this was carved into the rock. I can see it turns into some sort of pathway beyond the crack. Though unfortunately I think you may be the only one who can fit. At least with relative ease." Bolgrith focuses again around the crevice, looking for any signs of hidden machinery or workings.
The boulders, the holes they left in the cave ceiling, and the narrower cracks that trace down the walls suggest that this cave experienced heavy trauma in some way, like that of an earthquake. He knows that if trauma of that magnitude affects the cave again, the cavern would be in danger of collapse. It also looks like the large crack in question existed long before these structural problems. From what the dwarf can see, he supposes two men can stand next to each
other in the space beyond the narrow opening. Bolgrith can’t find an angle to see if the space continues further than that -the corners of the stone get in the way.
Bolgrith finds no hidden mechanics or the like. The only deception here seems to be the attempt to make this fissure appear natural. Also, a likely cause of the severe trauma might have been volcanic activity from Mt. Fireblood nearby.
Logan makes his way to the crack as well.
Hmm... I am hesitant to let the steward's son go into some mystery cave's crack without investigating it first... It may not be safe...there could be things on the other side... gross or dangerous things... Peering at the crack, the young soldier contemplates its dimensions, while weighing in his proportions.
But if I were to try to fit, I would need my armor as well...I cannot enter into this unexplored territory without proper protection from the potential dangers within...
He walks next to Bolgrith, looks at him, then to Simon, then to the crack "So...do you think I could fit?"
Rolg steps in front of the crack in the wall and leans against it like he's ready to loaf about for hours.
"I have already said: no one goes through until Aladdin returns. I suggest you all focus your attentions in that direction."
Rolg draws a knife and begins cleaning his nails.
Bolgrith sizes the newcomer up and down considering. "You might, it would be more certain without your armor. But I hesitate to suggest that you leave it behind. We do not know what's on the other side."
Simon answers the hobgoblin. “Agreed, Rolg. We should at least rest the night to see if Aladdin returns. If he doesn’t, well, uh, we’ll sort that out tomorrow.” He shifts uneasily for a moment.
He looks at the fissure curiously. “If we get to the other side, I promise we won’t go far, we’ll climb back for the night’s watch. Bolgrith said it would take a lot of magic to move someone to another world, more than he is capable of, respectively. I'm no mage. There isn't much to do but wait.”
“That’s what he said!” Jamie calls across the cave to Logan’s question as she sits against the far wall. She snickers and leers with an eager grin for acknowledgement from the others for her cleverness.
"If y'all are nervous about what might be hiding in there, throw a rock in and see if something eats it," she sarcastically shouts from her seat, making no indication of getting up, "We slept in this cave last night. If anything's in there, it would've got us then."
You are unable to take control of your path. Ahead of you, one particular dark spot appears to be in your way, though you are moving toward it very slowly.
As you drift closer, the round, amorphous window displays a familiar visage: grassy hills rolling up to a snow-capped mountain range, the very end and apex of the range issuing forth black and charcoal-grey clouds of smok, Mount Fireblood. The portal pulls you further, and soon you are close enough to see that this window has a thin, quasi-liquid, almost transparent coating, like that of a soap bubble. This gate that shows the untamed wilderness of the Sunderlands is close enough to touch.
The thin film of force ripples from the impact, and a noise like padded sticks striking a cymbal resounds softly from the window. What’s more, it seems as though time passes slower on the Astral Plane, for the magic missiles propelled from Aladdin’s hand quicker than he could snap his fingers.
However, the stormborn’s reliable spell has no effect on the portals coating of force.