There in a little glass jar, turned upside down was a miniature version of an obese man, resting inside against the glass. Unbelievably, he had a stubbly beard, and wore a shirt that did not quite cover his protruding belly. The shirt was caked with grime and stains. The little figure was hairy, quite hairy, and that was most likely fortunate, thought Ares, for he was wearing nothing besides the shirt. He looked like,
“He looks like a fat little elf,” said Ares, staring inside.
“He’s a magical creature, no doubt a relative,” said Gerrell. “We have a version of them in our world, they have an internal magic, natural, wild. They are….”
“He looks like trouble,” interrupted Theros.
At first they figured it was dead, how else could it simply be in this ancient tomb, laying in a glass jar, atop a small metal pedestal, looking like it was 3 days into a feast. Yet, when they walked closer, they saw that it stirred, and it’s belly rose up and down with breath. Theros couldn’t take his eyes off the glass. He had never seen anything like it. Next to the glass sat a small and quite delicate looking hammer of some kind, no bigger than a spoon.
Gerrell read an engraving in the glass, “The time is come.”
The ranger stepped back and away from the glass. “I like absolutely nothing I see here, I think we should move on and let this little glutton be.”
Ares looked like he was still chewing on what the gnome read from the glass. “What in the sands does that mean, the time has come?” A growl creeped into his throat. Ares stepped around the little pedestal holding the small, strange man, and instantly regretted it. They all heard a click, and above them a larger sound. It was ominous in the way a sword sounds when it is pulled from it’s sheath. ‘Trap!” roared Ares, and the others crouched with instinct from all too many battles and deadly encounters together.
Instantly, behind them, a gigantic round ball loosed itself from somewhere above the tunnel. It landed on the slanted corridor stones, and began to roll towards them with blazing speed.
“Strike the glass!” yelled Theros to Ares. The sorceror was holding the little hammer in front of him, while the gigantic ball came rolling towards them, smashing the heads of the dragon busts off one at a time. Smash. Smash!
Dave, it’s the best idea we’ve got, said Pal in his mind.
The churning, grinding sound of the stone rolling behind them kept coming. “To Ket with this!” yelled Ares, and he smashed the little glass container with the hammer. The little man’s eyes opened and he sat up on his pedestal.
“You done good, Sir!” He barked at them, and after belching jumped off the pedestal, landing like a belly flop upon the stone floor. With a quick look behind him at the boulder, he took off running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. It wasn’t very fast, and it wasn’t much like running. It was more like lurching and stumbling with an occasional rolling, but clearly he was of no help to them!
“Come back here you obese pixie!”
“I am not obese!” Squeaked the miniature man over his shoulder, “I was diagnosed at an early age with a feywild eating disorder!” The little furry thing with the ill fitting shirt was running as fast as his chubby little legs would take him. For his proportions, he was moving fast. Behind them, the stone crushed all. They were doomed.
But just then, they saw the little sprite dash into the wall, or at least it seemed that way. For there was apparently a little hole set at the base of the wall, and inside a tiny tunnel, built just for a small figure such as he.
The three stopped at the tunnel.. Behind them the stone smashed through the last of the dragon headed busts. They were going to be rolled into parchment.
“Guess it’s time for goodbyes,” piped the little shirt wearing pixie. He was peaking his head out from his safe little spot in the miniature tunnel at their feet.
Gerrell though, at the last minute took out a small vial from his robes and uncorking it quickly took a swig. Ares grabbed it and drank too, without asking. Next, Theros did the same. The ball grew ;arger behind them, and the small hole the little man had ran through grew taller. They stepped in at the last minute, and found that the stone and the tunnel hadn’t grown, but they had shrunk!
Ahead of them in the tunnel, now their size, the hairy little man clapped. And this time when he spoke, his voice was deep and serious, like a bard that sung epics.
“Well now, you done good, you brave little men. Well done! And you’re mighty welcome for helping you out of that jam. Just looking for a bit of something to eat. Something made from honey?”
They shook their heads. “We have bread,” said Theros.
“Dried fruits? Maybe?
“I can spare a bit of water,” said Gerrell.
“Rose infused wine?” asked the little man desperately.
Ares reached out to swat the diabolical thing. Dave, we musn’t hurt the NPCs. We must stay on mission.
“Salted sand lizard?
The sorceror cried out into the tunnel. It was agony incarnate. And then, when he thought he could stand the mental anguish no longer, another voice, spoke. This one in his head, the voice of the sword at his side. The cursed sword that implored him to do right, especially when he wanted to do wrong.
Dave, don’t forget to introduce me to your new friend ok? Dave?