As you head to the east, you in time come to a door, and a brief inspection, magical and material, shows it is neither trapped nor locked. Zjetya controls a pocket of wind, and opens it from afar, allowing you entry.
Inside is a small, round and bare room, one with many doors: This one, on the West, end, one to the Northwest, one to the North, one to the Northeast, one to the South, and one to the Southwest.
In the middle of the room, floating above the carpet, awaits the Salt dragon, eyes narrowed as she beholds you. "…Is this all of you, because I hate repeating myself.">>750045
Volkama and Deriva nod, and you head back with them to retrace your steps.
As you try to impose your will upon the space about you, you feel yourself coming up against enormous resistance, as if you'd just thrown your shoulder into the hide of an elephant. The invisible force swimming about you departs without warning, skittering away like a frightened fish. Busta and Gadriel look about, as psychic pressure builds around you, a sensation that causes the hairs on even your subtle bodies to stand, forced erect by the chills crawling about your skin. That psychic pressure congeals before you without warning, clumping up into a dark and frigid orb, but not one with its own weight and mass – more like a bottomless pit, inverted outwards in an impossible twist.
Without warning, you, Gadriel and Busta start getting pulled toward it. In an instant, Busta and Gadriel spin about, desperately trying to swim away from the void.
[1d10+3] Teleport (Busta)
[1d10+2] Flight (Gadriel)Roll #1 4 + 3 = 7
/ Roll #2 10 + 2 = 12