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.