Zero: Number Eleven

 Black ink scours the lands

In this technological wasteland

I've built for myself thus far,

And although I'm young

I have years of power, of growth

And I wonder how long it will take

My brother, the sworn hero

To take me out himself,

Once and for all?

I don't mind these dark powers

I seem to have been born with,

Nor the knowledge I can contain

But he swears that it is wrong

And I am wrong

And everything of wrong is me.

If I've ever felt emotion

It was taken from me

Shortly after birth.

And now, I am void,

My powers are chaos itself,

And everything is black.

The void calls to me as a familiar,

Asking me to help it spread

It's voluminous, blank wings

And I concur that it is

Tragic to be so useful

Yet so frowned upon.

I am cold.

I am efficient.

I am Zero.

Snow: Number Ten

A peaceful, calm Snow

In a forest grove

Full of deer and calming breeze

Falls from the sky,

Soft as a feather

And silent as breath.

Can you feel the cold wind,

The sharp, bone-chilling air

As it cuts deep to 

The muscles, the core?

My love will keep you

Strong, wild, and beautiful

As all women are, 

And are meant to be;

But my bad side

Cold and still as ice.

So tread carefully down this

Path of chaos,

This timeline of Rebirth.

The forest may seem peaceful

Under the colder Sun,

Blanketed by my icy weather,

But the nighttime chill

Can kill even the strongest man.

Euros/Eurea/Uros: Number Seven

Worldly balance is the key to greatness

For this earth you all live upon

And the best way to reach it:

To see, to hear, to feel

Recognize the magic all around you

And finally acknowledge,

The questions of the unknown

The veil will blind

All of you from

All of us, in debt to the Fates.

The fire and the water that 

Consumes us all in the end - 

Feel the rivers

Coursing through your veins

And wonder, was it

There this whole time?

And think of me,

My brother, Euphrates,

As you slowly delve into

The great Beyond this plane.

Fiore: Number Two

Melodies of morals play down my fingertips
Like the keys of a piano
Meant to be used, manipulated
To whatever needs must be met.

Does it make me the bad guy
To fulfill the role of the heroine,
Or the villainness when
My sisters are unable to?

I can play any game I like
And I can change the situation
As quickly as a snap of my fingers.

My magic runs within the
Feminine humans of earth,
The strong willed, fiery ones
That are willing to fight for themselves,

And especially those who seek justice
Beyond themselves,
Selfless to a fault
But also know when to ask for help.

I am the chaos, the elements
That stir within your soul
And burn bright with every passion.

I am the neutrality of what is right
And what is wrong,
Wrapped in a blanket of magical
Esteem and grandeur.

My slim, vampire figure
May haunt the others
But for the misunderstood,
The strange, the different,

The otherworldly -
I can be your hope,
Your darkest secret.

Growth

Fear, the ever watchful demon
Upon the shoulder of
My peeling, crumbling skin
Under your fingertips

Feel the scars, the cracks
As you trace them with
Your careful, thorough hands
Not to force any pieces free.

And when you finally see how
Damaged, broken I can truly be,
Don't be surprised when my
Flesh cage is brutally torn open -

My anger, focus, and will brought forth
To peel away this prison
I wanted to believe was
All I could ever be -

Revealing to the believers,
The true friends, the worshipers,
What I can truly be,
And what I can truly become.

Compulsion

Give me your hand, your wrist;
Your trusting flesh under my own
Shaking grasp for the first time,
Wondering if you'll understand
That I still want to be your friend.
"You may not remember
What has happened here today."
My hopeful, alcoholic words filling out
The gaps in your weakened mind.

My spiral eyes in your conscious,
Gently caressing and brushing away
The surface thoughts to sweeten
Them with nothing but a dream.

My friend, my savior, my hope -
Could you even forgive me for
The monster you have released
From my ever-caged hunger
You have never believed in?
When my teeth, sharpened and
Bursting forth with anticipation
Finally grazed your sickly sweet,
Savory, necessary fluids?

My sanity slowly dripping away
Before your unbelieving sight,
My tongue pressed against
Your bloody, pulsing wrist.

"It will only sting for a moment."
My honeyed, silken words lean
Against your mental shields and
Soak through as a mist moving
Through a slightly cracked window.
The relief on your face tells me,
It will all be okay, in the end.
And I bite, and you don't scream,
The sting only for a brief moment.

My face contorted slightly,
Though you can not pinpoint how;
Or how to describe the dissonance
Of loving to lose so much blood.

Could the aftermath of such a
Mesmerizing, cathartic dance
Truly ruin what we once had?
I drink, until I no longer care.
The blood fills my near empty
Passages, veins filling with
Your softly singeing, tingling
Life essence until I am awake.
I see you on the ground, half dead.

"Well, aren't you a tough one?"
My voice rings out, cold and
Emotionless, conniving, with a
Disgusting clarity of tone.

I crouch down closer to your
Beautiful, cold features.
The marks tell a story of which
I no longer remember.
The snow begins to cover you.
I lift you up, wondering;
My friend, my savior, my hope -
Could you ever forgive me
For being half alive, forever?

Frenzy

Oh, the ways I almost killed you,
My forbidden lust, my newest want,
My unsuspecting predator turning prey,
Mister Minimum Effort, man on my mind --

I held myself from grabbing your arm
To pull you closer and into me,
Pheromones pulling me into
Your stiff radius of sexual frustration.

Did I want to hold your hand?
No, but I wanted to smell your neck,
To kiss and taste it, to bring up your
Energy, desires before the final bite.

I wanted to feel your veins, your muscle tear
As my teeth bore witness
To the fate you had decided for yourself,
Your blood, lust, soul in my possession.

I wanted to touch your face, your chest, to play
With your fear, your guilty wide eyes as I
Asked you to hold me, but just so that
I could watch it leave as you collapsed.

I wanted to put my hand around your neck,
Your blood pumping into my fingers,
Terrified as I started gentle, then squeezed
A little harder and longer than I should have.

To see the light leave your eyes as I kissed you,
Forcing all of your essence through my tongue,
Turning your measly, cowardly blood into
Just a memory of being alive.

I wanted to tease you into bed with me,
To effortlessly slide you inside of me,
So that I knew you would finish the best way
For me to taste every drop of your life force.

Watching you collapse as I overworked every
Inch of your crumbling, mortal body
Under the weight of my thighs...
It never would have satisfied my hunger.

Narcissist

Read me like a book
Your eyes pierced my soul
As a spider faintly crawls
Under a wooden door frame

But the more words spoken
The more you grew,
Your soft skin crawling
Into human upstanding

Shifting, reading, waiting
Your never ending thoughts
But no guilt, no conscience
To brush your hunt aside

Your viscous, umber venom
Dripping on the carpet
I had laid out to marry on
With no mind to stop.

Remind me that I let you in
Remind me this was my doing
Innocence you feigned upon
Your shifting, smug smile

Tell me that I'm wrong
The way you dance,
You flirt, you charm
Is not for your amusement

Roll the dice, poke the bear
Forget that I am something more
So I may come to conscious
Once you are faced away

The Seven

Long forgotten in age we see monsters taller than the trees,
Seeking souls and blood and meat of those humans who had just arrived.
Be it hunger or be greed, the unwritten rite to hunt with such fangs and teeth,
Or be it forethought to start such a feast, lest they grow too numerous.
Primal fear soaked in most deep into our ancestors marrow,
Keeping close and constant watch for the monsters that would harrow.
Those who had the time on the days, where the sun rose high and bright,
Prayed to the creature who born them here for salvation most true and clear.

And on one feverish afternoon they finally received an answer.
A portal opened before the sun, like a moving slab of stone,
And they looked in such reverent horror as the sun become a back lit hole.
From this yawning portal came a pillar white hot with flame.
It came to rest quite soundlessly before the gathered crowd.
"To those whose burn as bright as I rest your hands upon me,
I shall awaken your hidden crystal eyes, and bestow the gift of Magic."
Seven brave stepped to the task, hands untouched by its fire.

And as they felt the unsung song they each knew of its power.
The Pillar vanished shortly after, as the sun returned to its true light,
And the Seven fought seven beasts in turn to prove this magic would bring delight.
So, the humans gained fangs of their own, of so many shapes and severity,
Driving their foes to deeper dark while they all the while caused calamity.
And so A new age was born from this, humanity bathed in hope.
But as such things go could it truly last?
ALL humans could do, was hope.

Shapeshifter -Part IX-

Noon was sleepy and relaxed as I stretched my shoulders, still in my pajamas. I had fed Necro when he alerted me it was time, and drank from some of the best steaming hot apple cider. The autumn, fruity scent filled my heart with homely warmth and joy of the coming season. Narcissa's keys were gone from her tiny bowl, and I felt the sun from the window cascade over my back.

I cozied up in my knit, auburn sweater on my couch in my furry pajama pants, keeping the cool chill out, and resumed my favorite book from yesterday. Hungover-brain fogged my mind a bit but I was just getting to the good part. 

Hours slipped by quickly, and before I knew it I was pulling on my favorite jeans, trying not to fall on my face, scrambling out the door to go see Annabelle again at the bookshop.

I half-ran over to the bookstore, late by only a few minutes, the cool breeze chilling my warm face from rushing so hard. I could see my breath as the sun began to go down while I straightened myself up and pulled the door open.

My golden-haired, six foot friend stood in front of the counter, checking out some books. "Zeph?" I asked, my mouth wide. "When did you get back from Paris?" I smiled, walking up and hugging his soft frame tightly. 

"Just earlier today! It's so nice to be back." he smiled a gentle smile and straightened up his polo shirt. "And how are you doing?" 

"Good! I-" 

"Here to see me?" a melodic voice asked, as Belle strode up to us, silent as the calm before an impending storm.

"Belle! It's great to see you!" I squealed, hugging her a bit awkwardly. 

"This is Zeph, he's one of my best friends, he just got back from Paris!" 

"Oh, hello, I'm Annabelle. Have we met somewhere before?" she asked genuinely, shaking his hand firmly.

"Maybe in passing?" he scratched his head, giving an odd, questioning smirk.

"Eh, I don't know." Belle shrugged and turned to me, her olive skin looking so... soft… "I actually was wondering if you would take me to the local graveyard? I heard it's quite lovely at sun down."

"Well, don't let me spoil your fun." Zeph laughed and sat down at a nearby table with one of his tattered, ancient looking books. "Text me when you're done so we can catch up! And maybe the three of us can grab dinner, sometime." And he was lost to the rest of the universe into the deepest of fictional caverns.

"You know, we can absolutely catch up later. I won't be too long!" There was no response, just a silence left behind by my words going in one of his ears and out the other. I swore I could hear the wind rustling the bushes outside as the air became empty for a few moments.

I turned back to Belle. "Well, let's go then!" Without thinking I grabbed her by the wrist and away we went, back through the creaky, metal door and into the chilly autumn air. 

After the rush of chilled breeze I felt the warmth of her flannel jacket over her wrist and without skipping a beat, let go and felt my face heat up. We casually walked the old roads of Marblehead, the sidewalks crumbling and vines crawling up the sides of aged, crooked houses. I pulled her along by her arm occasionally, as she stopped to gape at our historic architecture.

"You are very new here, aren't you?" I asked with a smirk. "Are you impressed?"

She looked me up and down suggestively. "Absolutely." She reached out to take my waist. 

"Just wait until you see the gazebo." I turned before she could reach me and kept walking, knowingly up the winding roads, smirking along the way. What, am I seventeen again?

Finally we came to the steep, grassy hill with a set of stone stairs built into the side. The cemetery smelled of freshly cut grass, combined with dying leaves and an air of humidity. I could see why, as the sky filled with ashen, heavy clouds on our walk over. A single, cold rain drop touched my nose.

"Wow, this place looks ancient." Belle remarked, eyes wide at the steep mount of dirt, dotted with different ages of tombstones.

"It goes back to the seventeen-hundreds. There's a lot of history here." I said with pride. 

We marched up the smooth stone stairs, each gigantic step more tiring than the previous. As we came upon the halfway mark, we could see the wooden, cesious gazebo, the pointed roof towering above the old tombstones scattered in every direction. As we came upon the peak I shivered as the skies opened up above us, the cold rain drenching us completely. We ran up the grey stone path and onto the cement floor of the old structure.

"It wasn't supposed to rain today!" I nervously laughed, feeling the weight of my water-soaked braids coolly dripping all over me. A freezing chill rolled down my spine. I took off my icy sweater and laid it on the bench next to me, where I sat on the dry, old wood. I looked out at the misty, showering rain, which coated the tombstones darker and the ground with a richness I had seen so many times before. But this time was so… different. In my gut was a sense of profound, universal, almost magical timing. 

"Well, I suppose we're stuck here now, aren't we?" Belle remarked, sitting right next to me.

I looked from her over to the carvings myriads of people had made into the layers of paint upon the wooden support beams of the gazebo. Wow... Last time I was here... The memories left a dull wrench in my gut, reminding me of the last time I saw them, their perfectly picked outfit for our anniversary, and their eternally dark eyes filled with regret and anguish while I broke off our engagement. 

"I know you like me, a lot... But I'm not sure I can do this." I stood up, taking away my arm from touching Belle's, and breathed in deeply. I couldn't stop looking at the carvings I had made with my first love so many years ago on the beam standing right over me. Jagged hearts scarred the paint, and gave me an itch within my chest that I couldn't quite scratch away with my untrimmed nails; A reminder of all the time I had given up to the pursuit of love.

Annabelle intensely gazed at me, but I couldn't quite meet her face with my own eyes. I paused a few moments, but there was no reply.

"After all of the relationships I've been through, that have brought me up to this... This just feels a little too familiar. I didn't mean to lead you on." I finally looked at her face, and she gave up no emotion or expression in stark contrast with the flowery, pointed look she had just a few minutes prior. She stood up, still staring, hands in her pockets of her black, flannel coat. I couldn't quite be sure, but I did a double take as I thought I saw her standing there without water having even touched any part of her hair or clothes. I quickly shook my head as if to try to clear it, and I saw her standing there, drenched but not shivering a bit. 

"I see. So you need time?" She asked, the lack of inflection in her voice still unnerving and hollow. 

"I think so. I won't mind hearing from you now and then, but it's just too soon for me to be having any sort of crushes."

"So you do have a crush on me?" She asked, hesitantly.

"That's not really the point, dear." I felt a short rush of annoyance. Typical. "I think it would be best if I go home."

"As you wish." She said blankly, sitting back down the bench, just watching.

The rain, as if the thunderous skies had heard my request, settled down so I could walk away from this girl in peace. 

The walk home was cold, and lonely, but I couldn't escape the feeling of my heart beating through my chest and satisfaction every time my boots stomped the ground, one step after another. Oh, what did you do? I asked myself over and over, taking out my irritation on the soaked sidewalks underfoot. I can't feel bad for needing space.

But what if to move on, I need to give in?

The Door House Employee Rules and Directions

Greetings employee #87, the Management would like to welcome you to the Door House, home to many peculiarities safely entrenched behind, yes, doors. This letter is a formal introduction along with the rules and guidelines you need to follow. No matter how strange or absurd these rules may seem to you they are there for a reason, and your continued employment depends on following these rules to the letter.

It is advised you keep hold of this letter and the guidelines written, and take 20 minutes a day before your shift to read it over, make a checklist if needed, and remember to take a map of the house with out, and remember were each red marked safe room is.

The Rules:

1. Take the key ring hanging on the wall.
2. Take the map of the house along with the supply pack.
3. Turn on the required body cam and make sure it is running.
4. Follow the designated route, as minimal interaction is asked between employees.
5. Check each door, turn the knob BUT DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR.
6. If the knob moves, slowly rotate the doorknob back and find the numbered key matching the door and lock it.
7. Repeat step five and six until the door is properly locked.
8. Make a note of which doors are unlocked.
9. Pick up any trash in the hall with the gloves and evidence bags within your supply bag.
10. Inspect any structural damage and mark the location, severity, and door number.
11. If the damage looked highly severe please call an administrator and continue your route.
12. Any small Living Being you find should not be interacted with and reported to the administrator as soon as the way is clear.
13. Any large Living Being should be cautiously stared at before slowly backing away until you can sprint to the nearest safe room and Security can be called in.
14. Any books you find along your route can be read during or after break, be sure to file the appropriate form before taking them.
15. Unless this book has a clasp, bound in strange feeling leather or whispers to you. Those must be handed in and examined before you can file the appropriate form.
16. If you hear someone behind a door, perform rules 5-7 and make a note of the door number.
17. If a door has a peep hole, mail slot, or slide take the electrical tape out of your bag and seal these over without looking or touching them. Mark the door.
18. If your route seems to split, check your map to find the correct route and continue.
19. If your map is missing, rendered useless, or changing before your eyes, find the nearest safe room and call an administrator.
20. Do not take drinks from the tables near the doors.
21. Do not take food from the tables near the doors.
22. Ignore any board game tokens, playing cards, or gold near the doors.
23. Do take the iron, silver, and copper masks. They will help you.
24. Do not take the gold, porcelain, or gem masks, They will show you things you do not want to see.
25. Leave a coin from within your supply bag should you come across a tollbooth.
26. If you see any security camera, be sure it is running correctly.
27. If the wires are not connected to the wall, you are free to break it. Its not ours.
28. Laughter far too real and far too fantastical should be avoided. If it follows head to the nearest safe room.
29. If you find another you do not know is human, follow rules 21 and 22. Mark which door they were near, they will not follow.
30. Do not agree to any games, from anything or one.
31. If a door is open, check the immediate surroundings for abnormal or aberrant marks on the floor, ceiling, or walls. Mark the direction, damage and door number and proceed to the nearest safe room to contact an administrator
32. Safe room doors are always the color red with white Times New Roman font marking them as such. If it is not mark the door with an X and continue seeking a real safe room.
33. If a safe room is locked, knock three times and ask “Why is a Raven like a Writing desk?” The correct answer is marked in the employee entrance room and if the answer is not this, mark the door with an X and continue.
34. If the safe room door opens by itself at any point, its not the safe room and you must run in the opposite direction.
35. Run to the nearest safe room and be sure to contact the administrator about any problems.
36. Safe rooms are equipped with an automatic lock, but always be sure that it has locked behind you.
37. If there is another employee in the safe room, check that they have their ID badge before comparing notes and warnings.
38. If they do not have their ID badge, ask for their copy of the rules.
39. If their copy of the rules isn’t printed on eggshell white, it is an out of date list. Remain pleasant as you contact the administrator, and leave as soon as possible.
40. If a door along your route is marked for Exploration, be sure to mark it down and leave a copy of your notes by the door.
41. Remove and attach your harness from your supply bag, ensure everything is properly locked into place.
42. Loop your rope though the metal ring by the right side of the door, then your harness.
43. Once properly secured you may unlock the door.
44. If the door is already unlocked, do not enter, take off your gear, and head to the nearest safe room to contact an administrator and security.
45. If the door is locked, unlock it and enter.
46. Observe the room for the designated time period, mark your findings.
47. If it is an object, do not touch it unless specified in the exploration form.
48. If it is a creature, ensure you are as far from it as the exploration form designates. It does not matter if they are in a cage or behind glass.
49. If these objects are closer then specified, back away to the appropriate distance
50. If it follows, slowly exit the room and lock the door behind you.
51. If the door opens even if you locked and double checked, run.
52. Run faster.
53. Run fast and far and hope you can enter a safe room to contact security.
54. Room 777 is allowed to be unlocked, and employees are welcome to visit its occupant.
55. Room 666 should always be locked, if this room is along your route, check each of its 7 locks are locked and secured.
56. Unnumbered rooms are vacant and to be left alone.
57. Except for Room 0, which only looks vacant, be sure the lock is working.
58. Do not eat from the feast within Room 420, it is not for you.
59. Breaks are to be taken in Safe rooms at 12am or 12pm till 12:45am or 12:44pm
60. Any door with a green tag has a temporary resident.
61. If a temporary resident opens the door, greet them with respect and inquire about what they need.
62. Report any requests, suggestions, and demands to an administrator and continue along your route.
63. If invited into a temporary residence room, do not balk or stare.
64. Stay only for a period between 15- 30 minutes, no longer.
65. Any food or drink offered is to be politely but firmly declined.
66. Answer any question asked to the best of your ability.
67. Do not answer any question vaguely regarding or broaching the subject of wishes, desires, or wants.
68. Exchanges of knowledge is permitted, but you must make a report afterward.
69. Sex of any kind or form is not allowed and termination of employment will follow after.
70. Administrators are only to be contacted for the above stated rules, employment questions can be answered by the HR department after your shift.
71. Security has authority to shoot on sight, so always wear your ID badge to avoid serious injury if found by a patrol.
72. Security without ID badges should be avoided and an administrator contacted.
73. No matter what they say, Security does not have the authority to take your keys and gear away.
74. Found firearms can be carried till the end of your shift.
75. Return or file the appropriate forms at the Security office.
76. Ammunition requests can be made, and be taken from your paycheck.
77. Grenades, incendiaries, or other explosives MUST be turned in or face employment termination.
78. Any use of firearms must be marked along with the location of where.
79. If you hear the sound of gunfire, it is your option to move toward or away to a safe room to contact Security (if its not them already)
80. Stick to the walls if there are any burn marks running the center of the hallway and ceiling.
81. Mark the location of any cat along your route.
82. Do not follow them, you’ll only get lost
83. You are allowed to pet them, treats can also be found in your supply pack.
84. If you lose this list, it is suggested you head to the nearest safe room and contact an administrator for another copy.
85. Should you find yourself suddenly outside the Door house, this rule allows this list to act as a temporary pass port and plane ticket.
86. Rule 87 is a lie and should not be heeded.
87. This rule shall remain blank until the employee baring the same number is terminated during employment.

Love and Cold Winds, Part 7: Finale

    Darkness as thick as a curtain surrounded them as the dim light behind them was shut out and the doors ground back into place. It was not long before lights from high above turned on with a loud click and revealed the shape of the room.
    A grand arena of sandstone blocks formed a high wall to rows of empty stone benches, with sandy floor space broken up by massive pillars and several foot high walls of wood.
    "Reminds me of somewhere, only bigger." Vort said, the dragonborn close to his side snorted.
    "Not very nostalgic considering there's a vicious monster in the room somewhere." Garn replied.
    "I found the monster." Norra said, pointing at the other end of the arena where the shadows shifted.
    From the dark stepped a figure no smaller than a child. He was dressed in dark purple robes with ruby red thorn patterns spreading across the shoulders. The hood was pulled up but they all could see the glowing yellow eyes peering at them. Although said robe seemed to be far too big for the thing it was quite disarmingly cute.
    "This isn't what I expected." Lym broke the silence of the collective staring match.
    As if to prove a point the wee being waved his hand in a conjuring sort of way, and the shadows among the edges of the room pulled themselves toward the boss wizard, sharp edges cutting their way into three dimensional space and weaving a body.
    The amalgam of shadow shaped itself into a towering 8 foot tall humanoid with glowing red eyes and a battle axe equal to the malice in the monster's glowing red eyes. Topping this visage literally born from shadow was the magic user, somehow emanating an aura of smugness from atop his new seat.
    "Well that's a little more of what I expected."
    "Scatter!" Shouted Norra as the beast charged toward Lym.
    The party broke their formation, Lym sprinting in a semi circle as far away from the approaching monster as possible while Norra took cover behind the closest pillar. Garn strode forward to face the monsters back with a trigger happy mage shadowing him.
    "Think I can harm something made of shadow?" the dragonborn asked, almost stumbling over his feet when he felt Vort's hand brush his.
    "Well, now I think you can," the mage said, as the edge of the warrior's blade began to shine with magical current. "I'm right behind you."
    With no time left for a reply Garn rushed forward, a huge grin on his face as he prepared to strike. His smile was turned rather quickly as a bolt shadowy flame grazed his side and calve.
    With a grace far beyond its size, the shadow giant's axe whirled towards the warrior's body in an attempt to vertically slice him in two. Once again despite his stout frame his reflexes put the flat of his blade between  him and bloody death. Instead he found himself sailing though the air with a pair of numb arms and a bruised spine as he landed ungracefully in the sand.
    Norra covered their prone dragon born with a hail of flaming arrows, taking cover as the return fire came from its personal magic turret of a hat. The bard had found a place to hide with decent acoustics as his magical songs kept morale (and hit points) up. 
    "You alright?" Vort called out, slashing runes into the air as energy crackled around him.
    "Fine," he pushed himself to his feet, catching sight of the three bolts of electricity that striking the chest and arms of the giant, knocking it off balance. Norra took her chance and fired a flaming bolt into the little wizard, and following suit Garn found the strength to charge.
    With a battle roar he charged, gouging ephemeral chunks from the thighs and shins of the giant, and the collective effort toppled it to a knee. The wizard, now a foot closer to the ground, summoned up a geyser of black fire that shot into the air, raining little spheres of death across the whole arena. Garn swore as he felt the flame graze his scales, sword raised to block the larger fireballs that were making most of the terrain around him difficult to get through.
    The axe blade coming to vertically bisect him from behind was conveniently out of sight as the weapon made of shadow was rather quiet while tearing through the air. He did see and feel the lightning wreathed mage push him out of the way. He once again felt his feet lose touch with the sand, flung backward as  he saw Vort deflect enough of the blow to keep himself in one whole. But it wasn't enough to stop the blade and the splash of blood as momentum sent the smaller body the same direction.
    Many things ran though Garn's head as he hit the ground and rolled himself to his feet. Vort crumpled nearby, robe torn and increasingly blood soaked. Blood and battle wounds were not unfamiliar companions to the dragonborn in this and his old career, nor were others getting injured around him.
    But the feeling of shock, heartache, and unbearable torrent of violence welled up in his chest at the sight of the fallen mage. Such passion for one known only for a short time was not uncommon in the adventuring world, as their kind made fast friends and bedfellows due to the work. But Garn had gained something not even he presently comprehended, the natural evolution of a crush to full blown infatuation.
    And to quote a overused saying on the emotion in question: it makes one do crazy things. And so as the giant haltingly rose to its feet, the warrior charged in once more, battle rage allowing a brief window of clarity to spot Lym running toward his fallen friend with potion and bardic magic in hand. And while his enchanted blade cut another ghostly chunk from the monster's shins his true attack was rapidly building within him.
    As an aside for a brief biology lesson of the Great Swamp Dragonborn, all dragonborn have a breath weapon based on their scale color. Being of green scales, Garn's breath was quite poisonous to those who inhaled it, but due to a unique strain of passive algae that their main staple food consumed, their breath weapon gained the rather unique mutation of being quite flammable. 
    And whether or not Norra knew this rather obscure tidbit, she fired another volley of flame tipped projectiles into the thick Green cloud Garn had spewed into the monsters face and chest. The gas erupted into flame and set alight the mini mage. The blaze made Garn step back as the high pitched screaming rang though the arena, and it was a good five minutes before it fell silent along with the shadow giant evaporating to leave behind a treasure chest.
    It was ignored in favor of cauterizing Vort's wound.

                   OXO

    "Honestly its the biggest scar I've ever received, but not the worst." Vort cheerily spoke from the confines of the towns medical building, which was conveniently located a block from the dungeon's entrance.
    Garn smiled and refrained from asking a follow up question to the mage's statement. The burly lizard had insisted on carrying the unconscious Vort out of the dungeon along with the treasure chest, and had not left his side since. He had even used a portion of his own earnings to get a private recovery room, and even now he sat at his bedside watching the scarred man gingerly pick at the bandages encircling his bare chest.
    "I'm glad your feeling better," Garn said, "The doctor said another day of bed rest and you're free to go."
    "Good, I owe my avenger a drink."
    Garn smiled and shifted awkwardly, words dying before they could get past his teeth. After a few breaths, his self confidence came back, and the thought that this shouldn't feel like a boss fight pushed him to look into Vort's eyes.
    "Actually, if you don't mind could we... Get dinner together?"
    Vort's mouth slowly morphed into a sly grin, "Why. mister Garn, are you asking me out on a date?"
    The big man sputtered and stumbled over his response, which in turn made Vort chuckle and pat his scaly knee. After a breath of his own he beamed at him.
    "Of course I would like dinner, but if we end up at a pub I expect at least one show of strength in my name."
    "It's a date then," Garn returned Vort's grin. "Don't be surprised if there's more just one show of strength." 

Part 6.2: The Writer Stalls due to Holiday Shenanigans

     The great doors loomed massive before any who dared approached. Great basins of violet flame flanked these doors, casting the reliefs of horrible monsters and screaming humans in grizzly shadows. Such a door could only really be moved by the monstrously strong or the magic opening mechanism the two mini bosses protected.
    Said bosses required Garn and the others to take a well needed break.
    "We have two healing potions, a roll of bandages, and those greater healing potions if we really need them." Lym said as he packed said items away.
    Most of the inventory had gone to the front line fighters, the lion share of which held Garn together as the potions accelerated the process. The dragonborn was laying on his back, closely looking at the door. Next to him was the storm mage sharpening his blade, wincing as arks of energy twisted free briefly when metal hit whetstone. They knew it was the precipice, the calm before the storm that could very well take their lives with a single misstep against the beast past those horriffic gates.
    And like a pair of teenagers, both were too awkward or self conscious to ask the other about plans after the fight. Norra was glad such things had not come up during the mission, it would only cause stalling and poor tactical decisions. Lym on the other hand was a minuscule beacon of unfulfilled voyeuristic romantic fantasia. The bard had seen the writing on the glowing orange neon wall and by the gods, he was invested.
    And not just because the song writ from this experience would be racy and no doubt a instant hit, but for his dear friend Vort's sake, Lym was obsessed. Vort had a smile and an attitude like a sunny day but past that false cheer was a storm of calamitous emotional backstory. Even if they were only acquainted the handful of weeks they spent traveling, he could tell Garn was becoming a part in that aforementioned storm, as someone who had fallen for the boy enough to allow himself to be a scaly meat shield.
    Before Lym's pedantic inner monologue could be turned into an actual plan, the pair stood up together, the smaller ensuring the larger was alright.
    "Let's get this show on the road!" The mage said cheerily, "The sooner we get this done, the faster we can get a drink."
    "I can agree to that!" Replied Garn, "Maybe I'll challenge you to a drinking competition, something I can actually win."
    "Most likely not, Vort has a strangely high constitution." Norra butted in, the group forming up before the gate.
    "Don't kill his hopes just yet Norra." Vort said merrily.
    Garn huffed in response to the jabs, before pulling the orbs from his back and pushing them into the vacant  holes in each door. The strange color coded keys clicked into place, and the doors began to rumble as hidden mechanisms began to turn with arduous groans of gears. The shadows played across the slowly opening portal, almost giving life to the grotesque carvings before a sound like metal beams being crushed by a dragon filled the room.
    The door had opened just enough to let the adventures through before the gears seized up.
    " How very anticlimactic." Said Norra.

Love and Cold Winds, Part 6.1 - A Fun Adventure

    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.

Love and Cold Winds, Part 5: Sympathy for the Midboss

    There was nothing but a heap of discarded weaponry, cast aside armor, and magic items sucked dry to purpose their ether. And of course the vast array of smears across the floor and walls like a impressionistic painting were all that was left of this floor's monsters.
    "Well, this is equal parts impressive and morbid." Garn said after shifting though the remains of a smashed treasure chest.
    "Yeah, that's hard core Grinders for you." Vort said, scooping a few gold trinkets into a bag.
    During the silent trek though the maze-like hallways of the dungeon proper, passing mauled traps, cleared out treasure rooms, and the slowly dissolving remains of minor spawning pits, the party knew there had to have been a particular group of Grinders. These were adventurers who neurotically enter dungeons and ruthlessly clear them out, often times leaving to allow the dungeon to reset and re-spawn its denizens to do the aforementioned sweep all over again.
    Done to attain better loot, better experience, or hoard rare resources, those dubbed Grinders often left a trail of cast aside gear and trinkets as they collected new and better ones. Some believed they did this so the dungeon could remake what they left behind into something even better, others thought it was they didn't want to haul what they deemed junk around. 
    "Should we be concerned?" the dragonborn asked as the group as they headed for the stairs downward.
    "As long as we stay out of their way there wont be issues." Norra checked the stairs before allowing the others downward. "More than likely they'll clear the floors their level allows them and then leave."
    Garn nodded, lagging behind with the storm mage as the expert hunter and tracker made her way downward. The next few floors were more of the same, monster-less and loot-less with only the occasional straggler for Garn to bisect with his blade. The large rough stones that made up most of the dungeon soon changed into solid smooth dark marble that arched into wooden beam and arch accents with everything lit with large amber sconces.
    Another (less talkative) set of carved doors stood at the end of the hall, a group of people standing by it and bickering. The party quickly ducked behind the pillars, dragging the dragonborn with them, making space a bit difficult for everyone. Voices were certainly raised among the other group before a whoosh was heard. Peaking out, Vort quietly informed everyone their party mage had opened a Gate back to the outside, and they had made their way through.
    "Odd," Vort said once the party came out of its hiding place, "They usually take on this floor's boss."
    "Well, We can actually get loot then!" Lym said cheerily as he approached the door.
    The party gathered around the halfing and began to push, but they all found that the door usually meant to be easily swung open on its hinges to have a grand reveal, were completely locked. They continued to push, and then push even harder, eventually going into a full on assault to get the firmly locked doors to budge.
    "Go away!" A deep bellow from behind the other side of the door pushed the adventures away from it. " I will not suffer further humiliation form you all!"
    "What..." Lym said looking between the group, finding equally perplexed looks.
    "I think that's the boss." Vort said.
    "Can they just do that? Bar entry into their rooms?"
    "Yes I can! The Dungeon Master put me in charge of this floor so I can bar you horrible monsters from killing me over and over again!" The fearsome beast wailed, akin to a small child being bullied.
    "Wow." Norra said flatly.
    "Never thought I'd feel bad for a floor boss," Mumbled Lym.
    "Hey," Vort knocked on the door. " We aren't the other party, we can have some tea!"
    Garn blinked looking down at the little mage standing at the door, he wouldn't be surprised if the beast behind actually complied to the request. And almost exactly after he had this thought the door cracked open a peek.
    "What kind of tea?"
    In a short amount of time the party found themselves sitting in the center of a circular arena around a short table, a well maintained tea set placed before all parties. One cup was daintily being held by a marble gargoyle big enough to eat a plow horse in one go. They had all heard the tragically hilarious story of the Midboss' 5 weeks of solid pummeling from the Grinders before finally reaching a threshold in the rules of this strange place that allowed him to lock his doors and regain his composure.
    "That's terrible." Vort said after the gargoyle concluded his tale.
    "It is horrible, sometimes I didn't even have time to fix the traps and get my minions spawning." The beast took a sip from the tea cup carefully held in his claws. "So, this question may be redundant but what brings you down here?"
    "Oh we were planning to head through the dungeon as normal." Lym said, "Your typical affair."
    "Oh of course, its a shame I'm not up for the usual affair." The Gargoyle said, setting his cup down. "As a consolation I will allow you to pass through my gate to the next floor."
    "Wait, really?" Garn asked, "Just like that?"
    "I am absolutely not up for a fight I'm afraid." The Gargoyle stood up, moved to the other end of the cathedral arena and pushed open a well hidden door with a grand staircase leading downward.
    With very little fanfare, the tea and table were packed up and the group bid their goodbyes to the monster and made their way deeper.
    "Did you plan for any of that?" Garn finally asked Vort.
    "Nope! I had no clue any of this would happen." The mage cheerily stated, patting Garns arm.
    "I doubt the next boss will be as talkative." Norra said, "So let's prepare ourselves."
   

Love and Cold Winds, Part 4.1: Does Dungeoning Count as a First Date?

   Nomands was a city built around a Dungeon, its stock and trade in the items brought up by adventurers. Everyone hates paperwork... It stands to be put to word that no one in our party enjoyed sitting for hours filling out parchment after parchment to finally cement their current roster in the laws of the land.
    Like many built atop a non-euclidean space, warped and magically saturated that spawns monsters, the architecture shifted to match its surroundings. Before the plains were settled, the Dungeon Guild experimented with containment by creating three high circular walls, one encircling the other with their gates never facing one another. This indeed slowed the beasts which wandered out, but eventually the walls would be breached and the gates torn down.
    Then came the mages and architects, followed by guards. Building on the ground meant you were in constant danger, so it seemed natural to build homes atop and sides of the thick and sturdy walls. And over many years, Nomands built, ever reinforcing the mighty walls as the tall tiered buildings and arching bridges rose and the population steadily grew.
    And like many dungeon cities it shared its universal stereotype of prideful citizens, colorful characters and loot hoarders galore. Having been holed up in the free (but spartan) quarters within the second ring of the city, as the last signature was dry, our party went to get a bit drunk as they waited for the bits of metal that would allow them to be out.
    "I had no idea there would be so much paperwork." Garn said over the din of the tavern, known as High as A Kite.
    "Only in a High guild dungeon." Norra replied. "They turn from a dangerous nuisance to destroying a whole city's economy."
    "From magical reagents, to rare hides to make into some new pants," Vort raised his mug and grinned. "And for adventurers to gather gear and gold!"
    A rousing cheer broke though the chaotic sounds as they and their fellows raised their mugs and saluted to collective greed and thrill seeking. When morning came everyone at the bar was collectively grateful to the cleric of Badolinain, the God of Party and booze, as their mass healing spell also dispelled hangovers before leaving party ground zero.
     With a bit more faffing about, the merry band found themselves at the lowest level of Nomands in a cramped hallway lined with cage-like lifts suspended over the abyss that led down to the dungeon. Said lifts were old, rusting in a few places, and swayed in the constant updraft of the hole below them. This lift system was one of the remaining originals the Dungeon Guild used back in the early days before teleportation magics were really fleshed out. Now they served as a much cheaper fee with a discount on returning stones (because the only person who can service the archaic and frankly obscure machinery is a very old, nearly blind gnome).
    Needless to say, it was a slightly tense and deeply uncomfortable ride on the way down. Garn being the largest of the group was the first to sigh in relief when it touched down on solid ground. With the appropriate creak of barely-oiled hinges they stepped out onto a stone plateau carved into the side of the pit. Shallow carvings which could be called stairs slowly made their way across the vertical walls of the abyss and vanished into impenetrable darkness.
    "That looks like a long climb down." Garn said, wondering where the light source that illuminated the land was coming from.
    "Good thing we are skipping it!" Vort said, taking place amongst the other party members as they lined up along the plateau's edge. "The stairs have weak monsters along it. It's better we skip to the good bits!"
    "Wouldn't that... kill us?"the dragonborn inquired as he stood next to Vort.
    "Relax my big friend, I have just the music arraignment for this!" Lym's hands flew across the stings on his lute as his melodic voice sung a flighty song that echoed all around.
    A faint yellow light surrounded the party, clinging to them like a second skin before the seasoned adventures threw themselves over the edge a second later. A solid five seconds went by before Garn jumped in after them. He was falling, but the spell made his descent less 'speeding toward a quick death' and more 'gently floating downward.'
    Garn fumbled though his pockets and pulled out a pocket lantern. This handy glass sphere had a bio-luminescent ball of fungus floating in a clear mixture. Pulling the pin up and giving it a good shake activated the mossy ball and bathed a decent area in white light. With a bit of stretching, Garn could see a few shadowy shapes perched on the stairs and within hidden alcoves, which grew steadily larger after each layer of stairs.
    In what felt like forever, Garn finally touched down in the light of Vort's lantern.The viscera and dark greasy stains told the dragonborn he was late to the party. A hallway stood looming before them, a plain archway filled with the same pervasive darkness. With a nod and some minor bickering the party fell in line, Garn in front, with Norra and Vort side by side and Lym in the back.
    As they pushed their way though the dark hallway, it seemed perfect for an assault by a small mob of monsters, or even traps but everything was... quiet... far too quiet, in Garn's point of view.
    "Isn't it a little too quiet?" the dragonborn asked the obvious question.
    "Yeah, there used to be traps and a mob of rickety shield-wielding monsters before the dungeon master changed it." Lym explained.
    " Dungeon master?" Norra asked
    "Oh right, you were all hilariously drunk. Apparently the Dungeon finally spawned another Dungeon master after guild called Laughing Casket cleared the whole place." the bard explained.
    "What's a Dungeon master?" again the obvious question came from the warrior.
    "Trouble." Norra said.
    "A super smart monster who is in control of the dungeon." Vort explained.
    "So that door wasn't there before then?" Garn stopped to point out the massive double door that now barred their way.
    The party took a brief moment to marvel at the craftments ship of the intricate face on the door before getting ready to kick it open, but then collectively jumped back (and groaned aloud) when said face opened its eyes and opened its mouth.
    "ANWSERS MY RIDDLE THREE, THEN YOU ARE ALLOWED TO OPEN ME!"