Dangerous Game I

Watch me carve myself open,
Guts and ribs in open air,
Baring my soul and all
For you to play upon.

I look sick upon your familiar face
Stomach pouring onto the floor
Dark and fearless, smiling
How you were taught.

Is reality an illusion, or a game?
From your words I could not
Tell if you were laughing,
Or crying, for help.

Your hands reached for my heart,
Sliding easily through flesh
With desire and charm
And determination.

Blood from lack of breathing fell
Upon your soft, wanting skin
My eyes full of realize, but
Yours on the treasure.

Emptied of light, of conscience,
Your thickly drooling gape
Insisting this would help,
This hunt of me.

A world of crimson blurred around
Your pitch black shallow eyes
Upon my very love you'll
Never understand.

I can finally spot the light in hand,
Taken as an edge to myself
Now turned and used to
Free your blood.

The viscous venom upon my carpet
I had once laid out to marry on,
Seeping, poisoning me
Away from him.

I stick it in once more, your sickened
Nerves cut like hairs unfolded,
Yet within, there is naught
But a single spark.

I turn, the fresh breath of what I've done
Seeping into my drowning lungs,
Tingling my endings
Into feeling again.

Isaiah Solace

Your darkened gaze upon your enemies,
Your victims, your nemesis;
Eyes of night with olive flesh,
The craving hit me first-

Second, the whispering moon
Screaming at me to move;
To say anything to your
Strength, your speed, your heart,

Your determination;
So quick was your charm in third,
Ensnaring, wrapping me
In your dangerous smile-

Your gift unto no one else,
For myself alone to love,
To yearn, to question still,
If any of us was truly real?

Your succor, sweet kiss
'Neath the moonlight timed just right
For your soon departure
Left me without question.

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?

Breaking Some Strings, A Short Story

    'Tis not everyday adventurers seek out assassins outside of the adventuring racket; Those who do the dark deed without a moral shield or deadly friends to watch their back. But in a dank bar so far removed from the main roads of Vindelhiem that its only real purpose is to sell alcohol during the shady and illegal proceedings happening within is where Boe found two of the most stereotypical adventures sitting at his table. An ork wearing mostly war paint and animal skins was keeping hold of a gnarly looking axe next to a cleric girl. The girl was pulled right from a quaint mountain village and was well wrapped in a robe that obscured her body type. She had the look of a girl tempted away from a simple life by the 'thrill of adventure.'
    Boe was the exact opposite of what an assassin would look like. Dressed in loose merchant clothes and a wide brimmed hat hiding most of his face as he sat in the chair in a practiced foe relaxed posture that would allow him quick access to throwing knives and pushing the table over. The pair sat silent as they studied one another before the cleric girl spoke.
    "We require your help," she started timidly, looking to her companion before continuing. "We have... A delicate problem."
    "We want you to murder our bard." The orc said in traditional orcish straightforwardness.
    Boe outwardly raised a eyebrow with professional practice, but inwardly he sighed deep enough to make you wonder about his character traits. It seemed the business of bardic killing was in season within his profession, but it was a specific kind of bard.
    "Let me guess: loves the spotlight, big on the sparkles in his magic, becomes hysterical and whiny when he's not the one involved in social interactions?"
    "Are you also a psychic?" the cleric asked, eyes wide with all the confirmation he needed.
    "Just a good guess," Boe said, making a motion for the girl to start the explanation all new contractors give.
    "It started out fine enough," She began. " He was always melodramatic, but in a quirky charming way, for a while at least. But as our party continued adventuring he began getting... a little obnoxious.
    "Annoying," the barbarian butted in, "The more attention we received the more he wanted to be the 'face' of our party, wanting to soak up more and more of the acclaim."
    "Yes, the more charming and unique he tried to be the less we really liked him." the girl said solemnly.
    "So why not just kick him out of the party?" Boe asked.
    "We can't, he handled all the official paperwork, hirelings, and our money its all under his name." the holy woman toyed with the symbol of her patron around her neck. "Our Wizard has tried to get him to split the burden but he refused."
    And there it was, Boe thought as he mulled things over. Simply kicking him out would mean all the wealth and whatever home base they managed to attain would go with him, but they can't kill him themselves because the motives are plain as as a dark elf in daylight.
    "I see, well if I am to kill this bard I'll need to know a few things about him." Boe switched his casual sitting to a more professional upright pose, what better way to show that they were in business.
    His name was Joruush. He was handy with a lire, not very proficient with that fancy short sword strapped to his belt, and his brilliant and flashy clothes blinded everyone within eyesight of him. He had stroke into the largest and flashiest bar within the city of Vindelhiem and threw enough money at the bartender to make instant friends of the half drunken patrons and put on a show for them.
    Easy enough for Boe to find, he had found a nice secluded spot within the bar and played up the drunken merchant he was disguised as, and watched his query. His contractors had told him he used a sizable chunk of party funds to perform this stunt, a habit that followed from their lesser known years and only grew more extraneous as the groups popularity rose.
    Poisoning would have been the easiest thing to do, a two-part poison which would make the patrons of the spiked barrel queasy after their hangovers, but that final drink bought by 'that pretty thing over there' and he'd have been dead within minutes. But Joruush didn't drink, merely pretended to and passed it along to another.
    Another would simply acquire a long bow, a few dexterity and steady aim potions with a eagle eye drought chaser and send a arrow though his brain matter, but the orc had insisted it being a 'horrifying accident.'
    Getting up and stabbing him was out as well, as magic armor and the contractors request made the easy route a murderer's dream. On the subject of magic, that was also off the table thanks to the unspoken code of adventures: 'Investigate how our party member died, and enact brutal vengeance if possible."
    "Sadly my friends!" Joruush's boisterously high pitched voice cut though the crowd, "I must take my leave!" with that he made a plodding and ostentatious walk out the door.
    The assassin followed after into the torch lit streets of the city, the bard being incredibly easy to spot and follow, already attracting pickpockets and street thugs hiding in the shadows. It was then Boe noticed a pair of yellow eyes glinting near an open sewer grate.
    A fun fact about the beings known as ratlings, is that they love gold, they will do anything for gold, and when motivated they can come together in great numbers for great effect.  But they can be quite messy, which makes them terrible assassins in most cases. But when the mangled and brutalized body of the bard was found, Boe got his bonus and the local population of ratlings was culled down ahead of schedule.
    A win-win situation for all, save for Joruush. All his effects and land were seized by his party, followed by a quick burial in the Vindilhiem Cemetary. The tombstone was so bombastic and garish it would be tradition to throw a cloth over it during the somber ritual of putting the dead to rest.
    Boe would often muse over his luck of the ratlings being out that very night and simplifying his job, musing that the very gods themselves disliked the bard so much he gave him an easy pass. Given he wasn't a religious man, he never bothered to ask.

Itching Underneath

Ivory tusks trapped under skin
Aching and swelling within the rush
Bursting with yearn to feel the wind
Which envelopes the sundered, dead brush

Swaying my desire to be freed
As the skeletons of old bones spread
Gently under the depressed, old tree
Witness to my claw-marks seeking tread

My blood boiling, writhing, tingling nerves
Wishing for freedom from this cage
From these monstrous, clinging flesh curves
I once believed were beautiful

Without the pain and the hollowed heart
My soul, empty isolation
Happy becomes a moment of art
Of love, of divine emotion

Moves the ivory, the teeth and bone
To rest within the muscle walls
Scratching the innards no more alone
No more at all, the loved one calls

The swelling to calm and settle slow
Upon a midnight, eyes of sleep
His voice is heard once again, below
The depressed, old tree's kept from weep

One more time before the cold night ends
His light rays shine upon me some;
Thawing every touch the love would send
Beating fast, flesh has overcome

Dread of nightmare steals the sleep time
His voice rings clear to stall the fears
Wings keep safe as a blanket of lyme,
Stone to keep away streams of tears.

Thank you, Friend

Someone told me yesterday that my writing was powerful, punchy, prosaic, and uniquely my own. Well, thank you, Mr. Ferguson for your kind words.
I needed a push to continue writing, and well, thank you for being just that. :)
May your fire always burn brightly.

And to Ozymandius - I'm sorry we waited so long to continue writing. I hope you will forgive me, my vulpine friend.

Love, Madeleine

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.