What Aladdin knows of planes doesn't help in this area, but the idea pops into his head (perhaps from traces of residual madness) that maybe he should just touch it.
Simon nods at Jamie's comment and steps to a corner of the cave away from the others, and begins practicing forms with his scimitar.
Time drags on. Soon, it will be dusk in one hour.
The Priest seems listless after the adrenalin from combat wears off, the loss of one of their number places a heavy toll on his mind. After assessing the crack he moves off to a quiet corner of the cave and just stares at the smooth cool wall for the better part of an hour. Methodically his breathing slows until he seems to take a breath only once per minute. Eventually his eyes return to the world of the living as he pulls himself out of the meditative trance.
Retrieving the massive tome of dragons, Bolgrith, called the Faithful, opens it to the first page and begins reading.
Aladdin, deciding there was nothing else to do, turns around and touches the portal, butt first. This idea was probably due to the touch of madness.
Bolgrith, ever curious, finds small-lettered lines of text filling the pages of the Dragon Compendium. Illustrations of dragons and dragonkin are found occasionally, but it is plain that the author endeavored to include as much information as possible regarding these ancient and magical creatures. The dwarf is able to complete one-fourth of the tome before something interrupts his study.
One of the boulders suddenly cracks in two and Aladdin tumbles ass-first onto the cave floor. His body and garments appear to be weathered by all manner of dangers -the hems of his cloak are singed, but one of his arms is discolored by frostbite. The stormborn lays on the stone, alive, but looking haggard.
Jamie is on her feet instantly. “Holy f!!*!”
The Priest closes the book and rises to his feet. Approaching the young sorcerer he begins examining with the practiced eye of a long time physician.
Gently prodding the frostbitten arm Bolgrith looks his fellow spell-caster in the eye. "I am glad you survived your journey." Glancing around the cave he asks. "You were unable to find Squall?"
Upon hearing the hobgoblin's words and understanding that very little could be done, the young lieutenant seats himself in the cave and thinks over everything Simon had told him about Karajhin. After an hour or two, the soldier takes a light rest.
A light rest turns into a more steady slumber, only to be startled by a crack. His hand rushes to his sword as a word not recorded in any dictionary rushed from his mouth "HWUAZIFITZIN!"
"Good. It's about time you got back. Everyone get some rest, tomorrow we go spelunking."
Rolg, satisfied that his charges are all accounted for. Unfurls his bedroll and, after cleaning armor and weapons, drifts off into a sound sleep.
Aladdin looks around dazed. "Am I back? Oh Bolgrith how lovely to see your face!" At the mention of Squall's name, Aladdin hung his head in sadness. "I did find him... but he was weakened and dying and there was this horrible creature sucking the life out of his plane and then it tried to kill me. Squall sacrificed his life to get me back here." Aladdin sobbed out.
"Another loss..." Bolgrith closes his eyes and breathes heavily. "I am sorry my friend. The pain, it must be great." Raising his head he opens his hands and says a small prayer. The healing flame leaves him and covers the sorcerers wounds.
Carefully uncorking a restorative potion he hands the flask for Aladdin to drink down.
Not satisfied, the Priest produces the simple wooden wand, and once again healing light flows forward, though this time it is a simple warm white aura that encompasses Aladdin.
Watching all of the grievous injuries mend themselves, Bolgrith finally breathes a sigh of relief. "You should be whole by the morning I would wager. Please rest though, you are still weak." The dwarf helps Aladdin to the small area cleared in the center of the cave, where they had camped the night before. "Though I want to hear everything about what happened to you, when you are ready to recount the tale."
Calming down but definitely awake now, Logan smiles at the return of the missing party member and tries to relax enough to rest through the night.
Nightfall sweeps into the cave, and soon all but the pit-fighter are asleep. Four hours later, Jamie wakes Rolg to take the watch of the deepest night.
The sounds of night scarcely drift into the cave. Rolg sees and hears nothing to concern himself. In the wee hours of the morning, the faithful dwarf takes his place as watchman.
After about an hour of quiet, as the deep dark sky pales ever so slowly, the dwarf hears a tiny and excited voice whisper to him from across the cave.
“Youreagoodperson. Ahurtcloser.”
A small, white female figure blinks into view, smiling at him. On the ground, Bolgrith would estimate her to stand two feet tall, but her thin and lithe build floats a few feet off the ground. A blur of wild, iridescent colors pulse soundlessly behind her, to the same beat of her bobbing hover. Her skin is new-moon blue, seeming to almost glow in the shadow, and her long straight hair is dark-coffee brown. Dark green vines and leaves wrap artistically around her feminine curves, fitting so tightly it is unclear if they are garments or tattoos. The dwarf can spot a small bow, a bundle of arrows, and the handle of a blade bound together and slung over a bare shoulder. Her most notable feature, however, is the enchanting smile -Bolgrith finds it difficult to look away. She lets out a bubbling giggle and makes a bouncing twirl in the air before meeting the eyes of the dwarf once again.
“Doesgoodpersonhavename? Bushface? Shinyhead? Hehehe! Sh!” she suddenly interrupts her own little laughter with a finger to her lips when Simon stirs in his sleep. Her mesmerizing grin returns.
The Priest sits up with a start at the interrupted watch. Seeing the floating being he wonders at her strange speech, her curious form.
Touching his bald pate self-consciously he smiles at her diminutive form before whispering. "I am Bolgrith, called the faithful." His expression soft he asks. "Who are you now?"
The pixie flies soundlessly in tight circles over Bolgrith’s sleeping companions, her face wearing a thoughtful expression, “NewspringnewnameIhadntthoughttothinkofonetilnow.”
She angles her head curiously at the dwarf. “Nevermetabolgrithbefore. Fithful? Ilikethatname!”” she brightens, her face ecstatic, “Iwantthatname! CallmeFithful! Nowyouneedanewname!”
The pixie swirls excitedly with a giggle before slowing to a hover. “Fithfulthanksthebolgrithforsendingbadwrongsnakemanaway,” her demeanor darkens, “Hewasacrueleaterofsisters.”
As she scowls, her skin-glow dims, and her brown eyes are almost black. Bolgrith can sense palpable rage in everything -in the air he breathed and the stone on which he sat- but it was not directed at him. It was the wrath of horrible, inescapable memories.
"Naga, the bad snake man, he ate your sisters?" Bolgrith adopts a look of concern. "Well, you should be safe now. We sent him far far away."
Fithful nods sadly, and Bogrith senses her intense anger fade as quickly as it was roused. Her countenance softens to a curious gaze. “Weknow. Whyareyousofarfromthesquarecavesofcutoakandstone?”
Bolgrith turns to regard his slumbering companions. "Yes, I am far from my home." He turns back to the floating little pixie. "I've agreed to help my friends, we are, looking for something."
The excitable fey swoops in, perhaps a little too closely, her nose brushing the dwarf’s and her smile wide and wild. “Whatisitwhatisitwhatisit?! Imightknowwhereitis. Isitasparkly? Squarecaveliversalwayslikesparklies.”
She bobs inches away from Bolgrith’s face, her small feral eyes boring into his.
"Aye lass, it may indeed be sparkly. I've never before seen it though." Again the dwarf smiles as he thinks back on the old letter. "I'ts been described to me as a key, made of purple crystal. It is called the Key of Honfogalas." He watches her eyes as the words leave his mouth.
Fithful’s mirthful eyes widen knowingly, but Bolgrith is unable to read the reason behind it.
“Honfogalas! TheTinkerer! HowthemountainshavegrownsinceIheardthatname!”
She gracefully spins through the air, and softly comes to rest on the cracked boulder several feet from Bolgrith. For the first time, her shimmering wings are still. Oily blues, purples, greens, yellows, and oranges change refraction at every twitch from the gossamer, maple leaf-like wings. Perhaps it is a trick of the poor lighting, but now the designs on her skin appear deep brown, and her flowing long hair gleams dark green. She smiles excitedly.
“IdontknowwhatakeeisbutIknowpurplecrystalsgrowdeepiththemountains. Hehehehe! Youlookforsomethingyouneverseen!” her wings flutter as she giggles, “InafarplacefromTheTinkerershome. Didhetellyoutolookhere? Methinkshetricksyou! Hehehe-” Fithful cuts her melodious laughter short, as though just remembering something serious, “Iforgothedoesntwalkorbreatheortinkeranymore. Heisgonenow...”
She trails off, bored. Her delicate fingers begin picking at the stone she sits on.
With this new info it is now Bolgriths turn to get excited. He moves forward his eyes widening in surprise. "You knew Honfogalas? Please, will you tell me about him?" His normally stern gaze is open and almost childlike, the prospect of new knowledge, all but lost to time, brings out the studious acolyte in him. He patiently waits for a reply, a mere foot from the boulder, practically bouncing on he balls of his heavily booted feet.
Fithful turns a playful, amused smile to the dwarf. “OhIlovethisgame! Ataleforatale. Shakeonit! Likethemansdo!” she wiggles her arms, torso, and head as her vibrant wings flutter. The jittery dance lasts just a moment, then she watches the bolgrith expectantly.
A confused look quickly plays across the Priests face. Tentatively he offers a hand, but as it extends he second guesses. Watching the feys eyes he carefully lifts up a heavy leg and waggles it about ponderously. Careful to not lose his balance he hops to his other foot and repeats the process. Finally, arm still extended to the pixie, he gyrates his torso in a loose approximation of "shaking". Again the self-conscious look takes his face, but he perseveres, the prize too worthy for his self-doubt.
She squeals in delight and alights from the boulder to hover at eye level with the dwarf. “InevermetTheTinkererbutIrememberhim. Hewascleverandmadecleverthings. Hecouldtrickstoneandwoodtomovewithoutmothersprayer. Differentislandswerehishome. Nothere. Yourturn!”
She bobs excitedly, beaming in anticipation.
Bolgrith listens attentively, nodding as he parses out the words from the stream of speech. "Different islands? The Hammertide?" He wonders aloud before settling into his lecture voice. "Speaking of different islands, have you ever been to the Merspires? Massive isles standing erect out of the far ocean. It's people, the Mer-folk are pleasant and friendly, but you'd better watch out on the full moon. Lest they try to drag your ship to the oceans depths!" He holds his hands out from each other, illustrating the length of the spires compared to the size of the ship.
Rolg slowly raises to a sitting position and peers in the darkness, trying to determine if this voice is friend or foe.
Although she has the shape of a beautiful grown woman, the pale-skinned and scarcely clothed creature Rolg sees would stand no taller than two feet, but at the moment, her wings quietly keep her hovering at eye level with Bolgrith. The priest stands a few feet away, and wears the look of a listener. She does not look aggressive in anyway, but the mercenary’s eyes quickly catch the small bow, arrow quiver, and handle of a short blade bundled together and hanging off one shoulder. Artistic brown markings dance over her lithe figure and her hair long, straight, and deep green.
At Rolg’s stirring, she suddenly flies to the top of the boulder with a frightened yelp. Her eyes are wild and watching, and her body is tense, like that of an animal indecisive on fleeing. The nervous look glances at Bolgrith questioningly before returning to the hobgoblin. The small effeminate creature makes no move for her weapons.
Bolgrith is startled by the sudden outburst, but he follows her gaze back to the now upright Rolg. Understanding dawning on his face he raises a hand to Rolg, indicating he should hold on a moment. Turning to face the fey he says: "No, don't worry. Master Naxdag is a friend, you've no reason to fear." His voice as reassuring as he can make it.
Facing Rolg he speaks again. "I'm sorry I woke you, this is a pixie, she is friendly and not a threat, we were exchanging stories. It would seem she knows about Honfogalas."
The gentle smile returning to his face he addresses Fithful. "Though I'd be surprised if you knew about Kragband, or the Sheng Dynasty." His tone is ripe with the promise of more stories.
"Truly? What do you know of Honfongalas pixie? Better yet, what lies in yon fissure?"
The pixie remains cautiously crouched at the top of the boulder, though she brightens at the dwarf’s mention of the unfamiliar places. When Rolg speaks, she turns and looks at the fissure, then squints at the hobgoblin and answers coyly, “Ofanyonehereyoushouldknow...”
She flutters away from the large stone and lands beside the large crack, looking curiously inside. “Whatdidyourkindhideinhere...”
"I do not appreciate coyness, pixie. I ask again because I will not risk my companions entering there without knowing what to expect: What lies in that fissure?"
"Brother Rolg, hear with your ears, think with your mind." Bolgrith says earnestly. "I do not believe she is being dishonest, I think she doesn't know." The Priest casts a glance back at the crevice in the wall. "We've known for some time now that there would probably be a goblin presence near the key. If you were in charge of its keeping, what measures would you take to ensure it's safety?"
Softly stepping closer to the crack the old dwarf runs his calloused hands along the stone. "Still, I understand your consternation. It would be nice to know what, if anything, is on the other side."
"Fair enough dwarf." Rolg turns to Fithful. "Pixie, please fly in there and tell me what is there."
The pixie scrunches her face again at the hobgoblin. “Sobossy! Bossybossybossy!”
She turns to Bolgrith, who stands not far away. “Youwannaknowwhatsinside? Metoo!”
Fithful quickly and gracefully extends up onto her toes and touches Bolgrith’s stout nose with a tiny, pale finger. “Boop!”
The stalwart dwarf suddenly feels an inner tugging sensation from his chest, not painful, but very odd indeed. The cave appears to grow until Bolgrith realizes he is shrinking! In no time at all, he is looking eye to eye with the pixie, though this time she is standing on the stone floor and beaming excitedly. In fact, she might even be an inch or two taller.
“Letsgo!” She whirls and her bare feet slap the stone as she skips down the crack. Just as she enters, she whistles strangely with a secret sign and four spheres of light spring from her hand and dance about her ankles, bathing the cave and fissure in blue-green light. Bolgrith stands near the large crack and sees, now that he is smaller, he can fit into the opening without difficulty.
The conversation and new source of light pulls Logan from his sleep. The fading blue-to-green lights shine from the crack, where a very small female appears to be skipping away. Bolgrith stands beside the crevice, much shorter than Logan remembers, and Rolg also appears to be awake.
Rolg draws his sword. "You dare use magic on him? Change him back right now!"
As the spell takes hold Bolgrith harrumphs with confusion. But after seeing it's effects he lets out a quiet chuckle. Turning to Rolg he says "Put your sword away friend, please if you would take the remainder of my watch." A curious little smile takes his place as he shrugs at the hobgoblin, as if to say well we wanted to know what's on the other side. As nimbly as his still ponderous form will allow, he follows after Fithful through the crack.
Logan blinks at the odd light and the considerably smaller cleric and pauses for a single second while his mind sorts the difference between dream and reality, that is until he realizes that Rolg has drawn his blade. Logan stands and draws his blade, as well.
"HALT!!!" he bellows at the skipping woman.
Logan’s shout wakes the rest of the party. Jamie mutters sleep-thickened curses and Simon spings from his bedroll in a blind panic. A bubbling giggle echoes from the back of the cave. “Bossyandgrumpwagtheiraye-urnsaroundlikearousedpapabears!”
The illuminated form of the pixie rounds the turn in the carved stone, skipping carelessly over the cool rock and dimming the light that pours into the rest of the cave. Bolgrith shuffles past the narrow entry, to find that it widens to a five-foot wide tunnel that turns sharply to the right after a few feet. Fithful and her light already continue around the corner. Following after her, the shrunken priest ventures fifteen feet around the corner to another turn, this time to the left. There, the dancing lights around the pixie’s feet show the tunnel dead-end ten feet away, to solid stone walls. Fithful stands at the bend, with her hand on the hewn rock and her eyes wide as she looks about. A small, sad smile appears on her tiny face as she whispers. “Thismountaindidnotwanttobecut. Butithappened...”
Bolgrith chuckles at the jest as he follows along behind the cheerful pixie. Drinking in all the details, he marvels at the new perspective, though truthfully it is not so different from his own. Catching up to Fithful he too extends his hand to feel the rock face. Adjusting the lenses over his eyes he carefully examines the edges and corners of the tunnel.
"Beware! The cheese is melting!" Aladdin shouts as he wakes from his slumber looking wild eyed.
"That's a shame. Go back to sleep sorcerer."
Rolg sheathes his sword and approaches the crack. "Don't do anything foolish Bolgrith!"
Bolgrith notices a small indentation on the floor where the tunnel meets the end wall, obscured by shadow. His deepsighted eyes see a small piece of stone within the indentation that could be pressed like a button, easily accessible to a boot that knows where to stomp. Upon that revelation, the dwarf is able to find cracks in the rock along the end of the tunnel, obscured by time, that indicate a large portion of the carved wall might be moveable, if pushed. The insightful cleric is also unable to spot any hidden hazards the button could trigger.
Fithful hums idly, bored. “TellmeaboutShengDieNasty. Whatisit?”