This cave now has a flat area carved into one of the walls, in which is mounted a door. A Gelek-sized door made of green-painted wood, with a brass doorknob. Gelek has a good feeling about this door, for some reason. Maybe there will be something to drink inside? Probably there aren't any greenskins. They'd have trouble opening it, for one thing.

What in the god's names? No, he'd remember if there was a door like this in the wall of his cave. 

It's green. Is that a good sign? Greenskins are green. The Bad Moon is green. So, it's probably a trap. Perhaps some orcish engineer attempting to replicate what he'd use on a human. 

... He's still going to open it. With caution and readiness to leap backwards, but he doesn't want to leave unsprung traps in his cave. 

Inside is a room, not too large in terms of Gelek's body, huge to anyone else. It looks better made than what he's probably used to. The floors are made of wood, even and smooth; the walls are painted plaster. There are a few coatracks, and covered lanterns mounted on the walls, but the room is otherwise empty. A hallway joins the room on the opposite side to the door, but he can't see where it leads past a bend maybe a hundred and fifty feet away. Only the flickering of firelight and the soft sounds of indistinct conversation (civilized conversation, not like the sound of greenskins talking to each other) offer a hint.

What. 

This is several flavours of impossible. The world is like that sometimes. But. 

... Is this what home looked like. He doesn't think so - plaster was considered artless and lazy, and it doesn't feel right. But it's been so long, what if he's forgotten. 

He steps through. If this is a trap, it is correctly baited. 

The door swings quietly shut behind him.

Oh my. She hasn't had a guest like this in quite some time. A few quick changes will need to be made to accommodate him.

Zog off. Does the door that just shut behind him open again? 

Nope. It's quite firmly shut.

What if he gives it a solid kick. 

Well, now his foot hurts. Door is still shut.

"I'm afraid that door is a one-way trip. Although, I've found, it doesn't appear before anyone who would be leaving anything important behind."

The voice comes from behind him. It's a woman, not as tall as him, but proportional in height to him. She's wearing a cream-colored dress with a veil draped over the top of her head. She's not speaking his language, but he comprehends her speech nevertheless.

Jokes on the door, his foot already hurt. Marching with bare feet does that to a fellow. 

Nonetheless, the trap is sprung. Now there is only a chance to see if he survives anyway. 

Now he's hallucinating. Great. A simple procedure for when you're hallucinating: stay roughly still, attack everything that seems like it needs attacking, accept that you'll break some things you didn't mean to and that the night goblins are laughing at everything you do, say, and feel. The important part is ensuring that their entertainment is limited to humiliation and not to knives. 

... None of this means he can't have a conversation with the hallucinations. 

"Where is this?" 

"This is the entry hall of my refuge. I, like you, entered this place through that door when I had something I needed to get away from, a long time ago. I don't know if I was the first to come, or the first to survive. This wasn't a very nice place before I got here. But I made some changes, and this place has served as a sanctuary and home for all who have arrived since. I extend that same hospitality to you."

"And who, exactly, are you claiming has arrived?" 

"Several thousand people in total, most of whom have since died or left the refuge. Those who enter through this door, without fail, have something to flee from, and nowhere else to go. They come from numerous different worlds across the multiverse—it's common for my guests to be the only people here from their homeworld. I believe you might be the first person here from yours. A few people have arrived through other means, though it is rare, and people are often born here, especially recently."

"Is that so? What sort of people?" (Will this hallucination contain.) 

"A very wide variety. It's difficult to generalize, but the current population is mostly humans and cats."

Humans. And cats. Well, fair enough. 

"I don't see the need to trouble them, then, while I have the pleasure of your company." 

"Most people are asleep now anyways. It's the middle of the night, according to our arbitrary clock cycle. Would you like something to eat or drink?"

He's only going to make things worse for himself isn't he? But he's very thirsty, can he afford to just sit here and wait for whatever drugs this is to wear off? 

"... Yes please."

"This way."

She leads him out of the room, into the hallway.

"I'm sorry, but I'm reasonably certain if I leave this room I will step in whatever spike traps people have used this hallucination to set up around me. Please don't leave." 

She stops.

"I see. Would it alarm you if I used another body to get you some water, or caused some to appear when you weren't looking?"

"Not more than I am already."