They were not prepared. In the broad spectrum of knowledge and forethought the collective batch of brains and the stratagems that were created before the stairs leading to the next dungeon floor were eviscerated when they entered the maze.
Every corner held some kind of trap, and that statement was often times literal. Monsters attacked in droves which led the scent of blood attracting the mid-boss (a minotaur, of course). This led to many spent arrows, sore vocal chords, a chunk of ether crystal spent, and quite a lot of cuts and scrapes and stab wounds with very little spoils of victory to show for it all.
Before any could pull out their own return stone and drown their failure in cheap booze, a blissfully safe looking room opened before them with a chest sitting in the center. The entire party stared at it while stabbing it several times. When it didn't start screaming, Garn tossed the top of the chest open.
"Well what do ya know." Lym said, pulling one of the four large bottles filled with a thick red liquid. "Health potions."
"Decent grade?" Vort asked.
"At a glance they look pretty high tier."
With that dazzling review Garn scooped up a bottle, flicked the top off and slugged back a hearty mouthful. It tingled on its way down to his gullet before blooming into a full body warmth. the missing chunks of scale and slashes hewn themselves back into unmarred scales, and the ever present fatigue lessened its grip.
The open potion was quickly passed around to the others as they silently agreed to set up camp in the relative safety of the room, sitting around a small cook fire bravely attempting to warm a murky stew in a dinged up pot.
"So, what's the plan?" Garn finally broke the silence.
"With the monster parts and these potions, we can get a decent amount of gold." Norra suggested, her eye twitching at the taste of the muddy soup.
"Or, we could head to the boss to get some real treasure." the halfling bard said, trying to turn the taste of the soup into something truly edible and failing at every attempt.
"Lets go deeper." Both Vort and Garn said in unison, the pair glancing each other.
"We can handle this, we got ourselves a full party now!" the mage said cheerily.
"Plus we have to pop Garn's cherry!" Lym butted in, getting one shocked look from the dragonborn. "You know, this is going to be your first floor boss kill."
"Oh! Yes of course, I can't wait." Garn said with a weak smile, by now he was getting suspicious if the bard knew his feelings for Vort and was messing with him.
Lym was of course absolutely fucking with him, and in part the hopeless romantic was hopelessly frustrated with how little romantic gestures the pair had performed. The most romantic thing happening to them was sitting next to each other. Norra was absolutely no help either, though hunter skills were top notch, her social skills were as abrasive as a river rock.
The nosy Bard knew one thing though, they were both warriors. Warriors tempered and strengthened in different forges and of different schools of combat, and any bard can tell you warriors who flirt with death on the battlefield pull double duty flirting with each other in their own special way.
And there would be plenty of flirting once the party pushed open the black iron gates that lay within the center of the maze.
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