All is still, and for a moment it appears that the area is uninhabited. Then, from the direction of the cave, we hear a sound. Although faint at first, it quickly grows louder, until we can tell it is the sound of many hooves. Suddenly several equine shapes burst out of the cave and into the field, where they pause to collect in a group. Each of the creatures has the body of a large, powerful horse, topped by the torso of a man or woman. We recognize them as the Borderer race of Centaurs. Though a few of them wear chain or leather shirts and bear shields, most are unarmored. There are approximately two dozen individuals in the group -- male, female, and young.
We know that Centaurs live underground at night in sheltered caves. They come above during daylight hours, roaming the plains to hunt and forage. Each bears at least one weapon, preferring spears and longswords. The bearded and hirsute males look rather primitive.
As we watch in amazement, we are noticed by one of them: an exceptionally large male centaur, whose face and upper body are covered with tattooed lines and symbols. In addition to his spear and sword, this one also has a large composite bow slung around his neck.
In response to a gruff command from him, the herd gathers behind their apparent leader. Ranging out in a loose semicircle, the adult centaurs place themselves in front of the younger members of the herd, weapons poised and ready. The leader reaches into a pouch hanging at his side, and draws forth some type of materia as he simultaneously begins to chant. The others raise their spears in unison, as they wait for the signal to strike. Knowing that centaurs are quite capable Priestcraefters, and this shaman has begun directing a casting our way, we rapidly close down the portal, thankful for the ready means of escape.
As our eyes become accustomed to the gloom, we also begin to hear sounds coming from nearby. Across the broad cavern floor, a pair of stocky humanoids dig carefully at the hard stone wall. Broad and muscular, these beings might be mistaken for exaggerated dwarves, except for their great size.
Deftly working at the wall with picks and shovels, they pause briefly from time to time to examine the material they are so cautiously extracting -- stones, minerals, and gems. They appear to be pleased at what they are finding, as much of it goes into the large pouches at their sides. They are engrossed in their work and seem oblivious to our presence -- though we suspect that our reception would be much like those of the other giant races should they become aware of us. We observe silently for a few moments more, and then close our enchanted window to the otherworld.