The Slow Ride

Earthwing had not expected to have been so good at her ambassador position. She hadn’t expected the Kobolds to treat her so well, although the fear was still apparent in their faces. She most definitely hadn’t expected to be gifted her own dire weasel - a musky, rust-colored runt of a dire weasel. The poor thing was only about 5-foot fully grown, unlike its 8-foot counterparts, and it was lucky to weigh 400 pounds soaking wet. Though she would never admit it to the other Lymantria, mostly out of fear of rejection, she truly cared for the wimpy dire weasel, dubbing it Lior.
Earthwing, having ventured out of the Kobold territory with Lior, began a slow, casual trek towards the Bajal, or rather, to observe it from a great distance. Earthwing, like many other Lymantria, didn’t ever really want to make it that far down the mountain, but she felt as though something was calling her… something she could no longer ignore. The winding trek took most of the morning, finally coming to a rest on a nearby hill crest she dismounted Lior, sitting on the rugged ground as to better take in the view. The Bajal wasn’t anything amazing, the camp was definitely not something Earthwing wanted to find herself in. She found herself watching as the Bajir went about their day, watching as they interacted with one another and completed their daily tasks. Lior, disinterested in Earthwing’s Bajir-watching activities, slumped away to rest on a shaded patch.
After a few hours of casual watching, she rose, stretching as she moved towards Lior to begin her ascent up the mountain, before she paused, swearing she was hearing whispers… but that wasn’t possible. She shook her head, quickly mounting Lior, nudging the dire weasel to begin their trip. But the voices prevailed:
“Wait.” It called out.
Earthwing’s eyes went wide. The accent, it wasn’t something she recognized from the mountain… the only thing close was the Irra, but there were no Irra here. She shook her head again, chalking it up to exhaustion.
“You must go to the gates… the answers you seek are there.” The voice called out again. This time, Earthwing entertained the thought of something speaking to her.
“Who are you? What answers? What gates?” She called out. Lior had continued their trek, the dire weasel more food motivated than anything.
“You may call me Melaar, but you need not know more than that. The answers your kind wish for, they are at the gates.”
Earthwing frowned, the name hadn’t sounded familiar, at least not from any Lymantria or Kobold legends she had heard… but the gates… had the voice meant the Gates Below? It was the only thing she could possibly think of. The people of Irrum Vath used gates occasionally to separate out the land, but she certainly would’ve just been directed to a place… not to gates. She gently nudged Lior to stop, pulling out a map of the mountain, staring at the crevices intently before she found what she was looking for- the one that the people of Irrum Vath had agreed as the entrance to the path of the Gates- and it wasn’t very far away. She contemplated for half a second, before nudging Lior to continue, adjusting course.
“I hope you’re right…” Earthwing mumbled, mostly to herself, but also to whoever this Melaar person was…
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The descent into the cavern had taken nearly four hours, and both Earthwing and Lior were thoroughly exhausted by the time they had arrived. Earthwing frowned, looking at the extensively decorated doors in front of her. She had half expected to find an empty cavern, so finding something so ornately decorated inside had her amazed. She walked to a wall, her hand tracing the ornate designs, wondering what the symbols and pictures meant. They had to be in ancient tongues, it was nothing she recognized, but the true meanings were lost on her.
“Melaar… I don’t get it… why am I here?” Earthwing mumbled quietly, staring at the symbols...