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Her job complete and another free lunch had, Faeria slips away from her other-dimensional tour guides. She would miss the pseudo-military camaraderie with the lads--whomever they were, beneath their sashes and facial hair. She especially felt sorry for the girl. No wonder the native women here wore masks.
Faeria stops in the market square for a few trinkets to remember her visit and then heads back to the Lodge. She notes a giant colorful chicken in the stable and smiles her glassy unfocused smile--she knows delusion when she sees it and it tries to snap your fingers off.
Faeria makes a for the closet, taking care to step over the corpse of Venture-Captain Bosk who is still laying in the place he fell. She waves down at him. Having walked a mile in his shoes (well, at least several hundred feet) she feels she understands the rigors of the strict military life he must have led and the sacrifice he made. Waving down on the man's corpse isn't enough. She snaps instantly to attention, straightening so hard she nearly comes off the floor. She gives the corpse the hardest salute she can muster.
Then she's across the room and back into the magic closet wondering idly what strange new world she'll come out in next, and if she will ever find her way home, and if she got home what her friends (if she had any friends) would say about her adventures.
The door closes.
There's a sound.
The closet vanishes.
