Saliq lets out a shuddering breath and tried to quash the sudden feelings of unease. "Is everyone okay?"

Cautiously he approaches the dragon cage, unsure what state of mind the young beast was in. "Don't be alarmed we're friends."

Rath stood up. Perhaps to some surprise, his mind was clear. It might have been the enforced time-out had done him good. “Well, that won’t come back to haunt us,”   he growled, but he threw Musfara a look of gratitude that few have seen from Rath. He moved toward the cage and said to the little dragon, “Let’s get you out of there.”

With the strength of a giant, Rath tore at the bars.

OOC: 75% on the bend bars check.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:53, Fri 22 June 2018.

Rath rips the metal cage apart with his bare hands.  The tiny dragon stares up at Saliq and Rath for a few moments with wary eyes, it isn't much larger than a common house cat, with scales and wings.  Then, it leaps into Rath's arms, snuffling his face before jumping on top of Saliq's head, leaning down to stare at him eye to eye (him being upside down), and then launches herself into the air to fly around the cavern.
Like most things that can fly, it finds joy in the freedom of it.

As it soars around though, it spots Marissa and makes a beeline to her, landing so hard on her chest it nearly knocks her down.

For a few moments, it sniffs, and scratches at the silver white scales of her armor plate before crawling up to her shoulder and wrapping itself around her neck. And makes a sound that isn't too far from a purr.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:20, Sat 23 June 2018.

Rath smirked uncomfortably at the affection the little dragon showed him, happy enough when it moved on to bother Saliq and Marissa.

"So I'm waiting for the next boot to fall," he muttered, looking around uncomfortably. "How long before that wizard figures this out and pops back in?" He turns suddenly to Folke, poking him in the chest with one finger. "And what the hell is wrong with a fireball? Coulda taken 'em out -- BOOM! -- one blast."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:06, Sat 23 June 2018.

The skald stood there, blood dripping slowly from around the shaft Inas had loosed, spear held loosely in hand.  His face was a mixture of amazement and distrust, which argued across his features as he watched the scaled creature swoop and careen around the cavern, interspersed with playful overtures to some of the others.  He just couldn't bring himself to find joy in the display, such was the ingrained prejudice of a Northerner, but neither could he ignore the magnificence of such a creature.

His mind undecided, he simply stood there and stared.

"Go heal Folke, Rath," Marissa said quietly, her eyes affixed upon the little critter who's settled itself upon her shoulder. She touched the scales of the ancient dragon that adorn her armor, rubs the ridges upon the little one's crest, and nods.

"Your forebear was very brave," she noted aloud. "And yes, it is time for us to be away from here."

Turning to the others, she said, "Our new companion suggests we depart. This isn't our world."

Digging into her pack, she found a bit of trail rations which she offered to their new companion, then she began the journey out of the cavern.

"Quick work, Master Saliq," she added over her shoulder, her grin radiant at his cleverness. "You've my thanks, once again."

The finger to the chest woke Folke up, tearing his divided mind from the dragon hatchling and focusing it on Rath's misplaced anger.  He slapped at Rath's hand with a backhanded swat of his arm, before responding.  His brows were drawn, his eyes glaring - he was annoyed.

"Because I am not able to cast that spell for one, and perhaps more importantly because they are extremely resistant to magic," he spat.  "It would have looked fabulous and done nothing but singe their robes.  Not so resistant to normal fire though, so I tried the next best thing I could think of."

"I am sorry I don't have the same battle prowess you do."  The skald stared back at Rath, indignant.  If he heard Marissa's attempt at mollifying them he gave no sign.  As far as leaving, that sounded good to him.

Rath grimaced and met Folke's gaze and quieted down. "I'm just blowing off steam. I'm an idiot. You should know that by now."

Rath wrenched out Inas' arrow from the bard and closed up the wound with a prayer. He tossed the arrow to the floor.

"And as for prowess, well, I seem to remember you killing a flayer back on that island, when it had my brain in its clutches. So there's that."

After a long pause, he added, "I could have sworn I've seen you cast fire ball. Must have been some other bard ... ."<sup>1



1</sup>In some other game ... .

Cure light wounds = 6 HP.

07:17, Today: Aldo Rathmus rolled 6 using 1d8. cure light wounds.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:30, Sat 23 June 2018.

"We are all alive, gentlemen," Marissa said with a relieved laugh - there was a moment, after all, where that was in some doubt. "Let us be away with cheer on our tongues and no rancor in our hearts. Survival, in itself, is an accomplishment against such as those fell beings. If I never see one again, it will be too soon."

Her thoughts shared, she goes back to rubbing her new friend beneath its chin. A small smile of wonder flits across her face as the little miracle closes its eyes contentedly beneath her ministrations.

"I agree, best we be off." Saliq says. He looks at the tiny dragon in awe, perhaps ever so slightly jealous that she had bonded with Marissa.

"Can you talk to her? Has she a name?"

"Oh, a keen question," Marissa admitted somewhat ruefully. "I must admit to being wonder-struck. I should have thought to ask that myself."

"Do you feel comfortable sharing that information with me and the others, dear heart?" she asks aloud for all to hear.

ooc: doh! what a maroon. epic fail, player no. 1...

The little dragon speaks a louder, though its barely a whisper, "Call me Astrel" and it seem to giggle to itself.

Then whispers softer so only Marissa can hear, "Are these all friends of mine? I don't think the handsome one likes me?"

As the party begins to head out, you begin to notice that the edges of the large chamber are getting fuzzy, as if they are fading.

"Move faster," Rath urged. His knees were sore. And he wondered if this old age would wear off, or if he was stuck with it for whatever was left of his life.

As the party leaves the two large chambers behind, making their way as quickly as their older bodies will allow down the steep staircase, each step down the very floor they are walking on begins to fade.

As they reach the floor of the long corridor that brought them up from the waterfalls, they find its floor is solid, and a moment later, the staircase they just came down is gone, replaced by solid stone.  Everyone is ought of breathe but alive.

"Yes, dear," Marissa said as he hot-footed out of the chamber. "They are all friends, even the grumpy, somewhat older, but very handsome one."

Her tone dry, Marissa said to Folke, "Don't let that go to your head."

To everyone she added, "Her name is Astral. Apparently she has a sense of humor."

Surprised, Rath opened his mouth to say something ...



... then shut it again and scratched his neck, realizing the Marissa hadn't been talking about him.

After accepting Rath's apology Folke gratefully accepted the blessing.  "Don't worry about it," he said by way of his own apology.  "We were all on edge."  His eyes skittered to the dragon with Marissa for a second, then closed as Rath withdrew the arrow.

Their escape from the rapidly disappearing realm spooked the skald and he didn't really need Rath's urgings to hasten back down the stairs.  Once they had a moment to catch their breath, he rolled the dragon's name over in his head.  Astrel.  Did that mean anything to him?

Then Marissa mentioned the 'very handsome one' and Folke glanced at Rath with a somewhat smug, self-satisfied look on his face, especially when Rath opened his mouth to speak.  But then Marissa chided him without even realizing it, and the skald flushed and had his expression wiped clean.  It was all he could do not to say "Yes, ma'am," on the end of it.

Once recovered from the light scolding, Folke looked around at his companions, though his gaze never lingered directly on the dragon.  "Where do we head now?  Somewhere safe from the Siggurdsdottir and Elexi both, I think?"

"Where would you like to go, young one?" Marissa asked the dragon.

Saliq smiled at the tiny dragon, and bowed lightly. "A pleasure to meet you Astrel. I am Saliq. Unfortunately I fear our troubles have not yet ended and greater celebrations and introductions must wait."

His smile faded as he glanced at the others. "Do you all still feel old?"

The little dragon giggles, and it sounds like a childs innocent giggle.

"I don't know, I've never been anywhere before.  I was born in that cage, and there I've stayed.  I would have died of fright or loneliness if the little funny man hadn't sent me dreams.  He showed me all your faces, and your names, and said the great heroes were coming to save me.  And he showed me my parent in its youth, and sent dreams to let me sleep in comfort.  I guess I want to meet him, this dream sender, if he's real.  And yes, you all look quite a bit older than you did in the dreams,  how long have you been looking for me?"

Inas had been silent for some time, almost as if his mind were elsewhere -- which, given their recent foes, was a distinct possibility.

But he was actually replaying things out, trying to determine whether they had made matters worse despite rescuing the dragon.  If the flayers were happy to trade it for the book, then . . .


Astrel's brings another thought to the front of the ranger's mind.  He had hoped that their strength and youth would return once the environment reverted.  That it hadn't prompted a response from Inas.

It was just a groan, but it was still a response.

"Lads, I'm thinking only someone of great power can reverse these affects. Perhaps our patron might be one of such strength. We have Astrel; let us retreat then in effort to affect a cure."

The party makes its way back down the long corridor and multiple sets of stairs.  It seems to take longer than it looks like should, and its tiring, maybe its just the aging effects.  When you reach bottom, the moisture from the waterfall is refreshing.  Looking around, you are still aged.  You meet no one else, and all is quiet (well, not quite, there is the roaring, deafening waterfall).

As the party stands in the lower chamber, catching their breathe, they notice that their breathe is coming out in little clouds of white.  Suddenly, the roaring of the waterfall becomes but a trickle, as the entire thing freezes solid.

The cavern becomes quite cold, and Astrel digs herself deep into Marissa hair.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:54, Wed 27 June 2018.

Saliq draws Folke aside: "My friend I don't want to seem impatient but we are, as you can no doubt tell, not growing any younger. If you do not wish to use the scroll allow me."