He awoke, meaning he was alive. But he hurt bad. He saw the glowing blue of moss on the ceiling and could feel his leg

While Corvayne was passed out Wick had dragged him back to safety then wrapped gauze from his pack around his bleeding wounds. His head was pounding, thought sitting up and drinking water helped, as did the wreath which he was terrified to remove now as it might have been the only thing holding him together. The trees were much much harder then the other monsters he had fought earlier by a staggering degree. He was not looking forward to another encounter with more then one at a time and he was pretty sure three would be impossible to beat with the tools they had.

“If we find other trees, then... we'll try running down a floor. Unless we see the exit or a path they can't follow us.”

She nodded and gestured at the dim light blue cave. “Let's wait here.”

She helped him get his roll under him and he fell in and out of sleep for an unknown amount of time, keeping a hand on his spear. He had a terrible dream where he running to spear practice but there was a mantis with a practice spear, yellow alien eyes regarding him. A lizard-man with a cruel jagged snout and a glittering monster that looked like an amoeba with slimy tendrils around a staff were staring at him. The Mantis clacked it's jaws and hissed “Right on time, Corvayne!”

He woke feeling refreshed despite the nightmare. Wick looked terrible, eyes rimmed with red where the dark circles of exhaustion didn't extend. “Way to get under my skin then almost die you jackass!” She hugged him fiercely. It really hurt. He didn't ask her to stop.

“I'll be ok. Let me sit, you take a quick nap and we'll find the last exit.”

He put his spear in his lap and she slumped down into the roll next to him. He guessed he had been out more then a few hours. As always, he healed fast. His cheek was still swollen and his ribs on one side were covered in nasty bruises as well as the bandaged gash. Still, he had enough of his stamina back that he could probably take a single tree out. No fancy cross skills: the cost was just too much.

Wick woke probably two hours later. Corvayne felt better but was hurting. He offered her some water from the canteen then got ready to try for the tower in the sea of jelly once more.

Approaching the grove took a lot of will, and he crept forward, jabbing each tree before leaping back, ready for another lethal barrage of vines and branches. His luck held and they were able to move to the next island. This one had a large garden in the center so he and Wick plotted a route where they had one foot in the jam as they circled the island. If there was a fake tree in the overgrown center, it let them pass to the tower island without incident.

Corvayne nearly lost his head not two steps into the island: he had been distracted trying to look for a tunnel with a stair and missed one of the tubes on the ground. Feeling a vibration he threw himself back as a spiked pole erupted from the ground, then slid back into place with a slow pace that was almost malevolent.

“We have GOT to get off this fucking floor.” Wick added and he agreed whole heartedly.

The tower was three stories tall and only had a few panels here and there as walls. Most of each floor was a long rectangle having ramps both inside and out connecting them. Corvayne thought it looked a little like something he'd seen on a playground, on a much bigger scale and minus the graffiti. There was twenty feet between each floor, and he groaned as he spotted rows of plants on the second floor. He was glad they could see most of the interior: just knowing where the dangerous spots were made it daunting but possible. There were some parts that he'd have to go by plant patches to scout, but some good news: he spotted on the third story a doorway to a place that looked a black rectangle to nowhere. The lack of gray steel or pink sky made him guess it was the stairs. “If we can get up there, that's gotta be the exit.”

He took his time, asking Wick what she thought the pros and cons were with each combination of stairs. After looking at the third path she stopped responding and started looking at the structure, apparently lost in thought, then turned to him.

“Let's just skip the entire building.”

Her idea was simple. Using her gloves, she would carry a rope to the third floor and loop it on a sturdy strut that the weird metal structure had. It would place them right by the stairs.

“But if there's a killer plant up there...” He had an image of her being sliced in half.

“I run it back and forth until we can leave. They are dangerous but they are not as fast as we are.”

Corvayne tried to keep himself from getting upset at the thought of her getting killed. “Those whips will take your head clean off.”

Wick gestured to his bandages. “Oh yeah? Same to you. What's one or two up there against at least five going through the whole damn building?”

Corvayne had to agree. “Your plan does sound better. I just want you to be careful. I may only have one head to lose but I'm not far behind on friends. I don't think there's another Wick out there.”

She smiled, then stretched and he dug in his pack for a length of rope out and tied a loop. “Sixty feet, probably enough. Just line it up with a wall, try to get it hooked so it won't come off from tugging it.”

She nodded, gesturing to a spot she saw that had a post with a nub on the top. Then she got climbing. “Use your legs to push up, then hold with your hands.” Corvayne added helpfully. After some swearing she figured out what Corvayne was saying and with the sticky gloves got to the top, clearly tired as she pulled herself onto the third floor. She wrapped the rope around the pole with a nub, then turned and he heard her swearing louder. Wasting no time he started climbing.

There was the sound of metal scraping on metal from the third floor and Corvayne ignored his ribs protests as he forced himself to mechanically climb at the rate of a respectable jog. At the top he saw a plant skittering after Wick. He started running after it, as she was going to be boxed against a large patch soon enough, and awaking more would be a death sentence for her.

He caught up to the distracted plant and started using [Cross-Skill: Backstab] over and over, the drain not too heavy because he had his spear held two handed and was jamming it down like a knife into the monsters back. The first attack it started to turn, But he jumped up on one of the plant's bulbous root and reached up grabbed a branch at it's base. It was wiggling like crazy but it couldn't hurt him like the fast moving ends of those vines could. It seemed it wasn't able to attack it's own back. In a few moments of backstabbing Corvayne was spent and the thing had six holes the size of pizzas in it's back. Covered in jam, they stood before the last stairway up, two plants on either side of the exit. No guts no glory: Corvayne took Wick's hand and they ran as fast as they could right past both of them. There was a light...

They strode into what could only be called a waiting room. It reminded Corvayne of a nicer version of one at the medical station back home: Instead of a sort of dingy stone room the gray walled space had soft carpet, couches and chairs against the wall, and even a water fountain on the wall. After a few moments with no killer plants trying to squeeze in, he made a beeline for the water and found it was wonderfully cold. He didn't hesitate to fill his canteen again and drink while looking around.

The room had the stairs back down, a pair of lit double doors with the world 'Exit?' on it, which worried him; there was a door with a lock, then what looked to be bathrooms. A darkened open door was there too: one that he couldn't see into. It had a faint feeling of... regret? As he looked about, ghostly figures appeared on the couches. They looked like see through gray nervous warriors, wearing makeshift gear and all sporting large packs. He got snippets of them talking at the volume of a whisper, something about a big score? He tried waving to attract their attention, but they seemed to be in their own world. After a few minutes, the images stood up and walked to the 'Exit?' door.

Wick sat down. “We don't know what's behind those doors.”

“Nope.” Corvayne sat next to her.

“If it's like those trees, we'll die.” Wick said. She rubbed her shin.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“What a lousy life.” She stared at the wall.

“Yesterday was pretty good.” He actually rated it as the best day of his life. But he also had a sense that Wick didn't want what happened at the house to be a big deal. Of course if they died it wouldn't be a big deal for anyone.

Wick thought about it then shrugged. “Okay. I take it back. Some of it was good.” She looked at Corvayne, one of those inscrutable ones that perhaps if he was wiser would be as easy to read as 'Grunt asking for the remote'.

“So once we are through...” He was going to try to avoid saying 'If we get through'. “We might run into a pack of Bigfoots again.”

She nodded.

“I'll kill a few and see if we can outrun them. Hopefully it's daytime.”

She checked her phone. “Says... nine pm.”

“Do we wait for daybreak?”

“If you and I are missing for days, there's a lot of people in town who might decide to come out to the woods. Into where those giant apes are.”

The thought of her goofy fan club getting clobbered to death made him take a deep breath and stand.

“Five minutes, then we go through the door.” As much for himself as for her. She nodded. Like he did, she went to the empty door. Then took a step back from it. She sneered at it. Something about it was universally repellent. Or they both had the same sort of tuned senses that picked up something was off about it.

He stood and stretched, using his spear exercises to center himself. Wick had moved back over to the door marked as an exit.

“We are definitely going out the double doors.”

Corvayne took the lead and pushed them open, stepping into a glowing hallway that got so bright it blinded him...

He felt stone under his boots and saw he was on top of a building with the city lights of Cascadia surrounding them. Not the real city: There was a dream-like fluidity to the lights around them as there were upside down buildings in the sky above them, carved out of darkness with lines of stars as the lights in them. Wick was with him, looking around. Her smirk soured when she looked up as well. Not quite home yet. The square roof they were on had a matching access door on the far side, also with an orange glowing line lock, and no other exits. The door they came from and the one on the other side were atop twelve foot tall extensions of the roof, and he could see a ladder behind the far one.

He narrowed his eyes. Something else was with them, pulling itself onto the building across from them. It climbed up to perch on the other side. Green, gleaming scales able to turn aside the strongest blow. Horns, sharp enough to rip through armor let alone flesh and blood. Rows of jagged teeth, needle sharp. Yellow reptilian eyes betraying it's cold disregard. It reared it's head, breathing a searing cone of fire into the air, blue and yellow and red. It then spread it's wings and roared at them. They were facing the reptilian scourge that ended all too many lives in the books he read. A green dragon!

Corvayne blinked. It was... tiny.

It hopped off the roof. Given that it was the size of a... moderately large dog, Corvayne just looked at Wick then back at the beast. The thing stopped in front of the locked door. He readied his spear, but it didn't seem like it was attacking, just waiting. He stared it down. If it wasn't going to attack, then he would use the time to plan.

“Okay Wick.... it breaths fire. If it comes at you, just swing your sword to try to dispatch the flames and to keep it back. Don't get in close with it... even as small as it is, it's probably extra dangerous. The best place to be against a dragon is behind it to the side of it's legs or near it's front legs. Given this one's size... go with the back if you have to pick.”

She looked between the dragon and him. “I wonder if they didn't give you a bunch of fantasy books to read on purpose.”

“Don't look at me like that, My instructors had us learn a lot of stuff I assumed I'd never need.”

It was sitting there, looking at them.

Corvayne decided he'd aim to bleed it down.

When he advanced over the halfway mark of the roof, the beast roared and bound over to him, spewing fire as it ran. Corvayne activated [Flow-Like-Water] and oddly enough, the fire sputtered as if doused as he slid around the side of the beast, hitting it with his spear and doing some damage to it's shoulder scales.

“Tough bastard.” Corvayne kept circling it, and the monster used it's flexible neck to snap at him to keep him at bay. It breathed in, and this time Corvayne was close enough to hurl himself into a forward roll, aiming to get the side.

[Cross-Skill: Bleeder] He jabbed at the beast. His spear tip manged to find flesh, but he had to disengage as the creature started spewing fire again. His forearm and hands stung a little: the breath was radiating heat. He tracked that Wick was moving to try to get behind the beast, who now was trying to charge at Corvayne, vicious little mouth trying to get a hold of him. Corvayne met the charge with his spear and was actually pushed back a few feet as the blade caught on a scale then pushed an inch into the beast. As the neck snaked forward to try to clamp down on the leading arm of the spear, He activated another skill. [Juxtapose]. It meant he couldn't drive his spear in deeper, but he fluidly pulled his arms and spear back, then rolled over the monster's back as it was forced forward.

Swapping positions with the monster confused it for just a moment. He used the opening and landed a [Cross-Skill: Backstab] that only helped his spear penetrate the hind leg. Even with what must be torn muscles between it's legs and tail, the thing whipped his tail into Corvayne, the size belaying the weight it put into the swing. Thankfully it hit the other side of his ribs, and while there were spikes on the tail they mostly ripped his shirt rather then disemboweling him. It used the momentum of the turn to try to line up it's face with another fire breath, and Corvayne went to a one handed grip and backhanded it, activated [Cross-Skill: Shield bash].

The cone of fire sprayed harmlessly across the rooftop as the monster swayed from it's head being bashed. Not wasting a moment while at it's side, Corvayne took a deep breath and lined up a two handed thrust. He felt a skill activate: [Thrust]. It seemed to help him drive his spear through the scales, sending a few clattering to the ground and drawing another red mark into the things hide. The dragon responded by raking at him with it's claws, one scoring a slash on his leg. Then the little bastard put it's head down and Corvayne had to parry it's horns with his spear, it's head snarling and trying to bite him between the legs. Corvayne brought a knee up into it's jaw, and the monster burped half formed fire into his abdomen. He cried out in pain and stumbled back, batting at his shirt as it was smoldering and he had been badly burned across his chest. Every movement sent waves of pain through him as he scrambled back.

The distance let them lock eyes. The little reptile narrowed his, and Corvayne did the same, then they charged again. As it was spewing fire, he used [Flow-Like-Water] and found it negated the fire to some extent, sliding past the drake as his spear darted out. He did his best to aim for the same spot he hit last time, fully knocking a scale off and drawing another scratch in the things hide. It skittered to a halt and tried to turn, but Corvayne was already squaring a hit onto the same spot, moving his hands up and shortening his grip then using [Cross-Skill: Bleeder]. This time the wound took and blood started running down the creatures side, twisting it around the wound as it screeched angrily. Wick got a good hit on it's back, hitting her [Backstab] and knocking another scale loose while leaving behind another bleeding gash, but it quickly responded by slapping her with it's tail. The small woman was lifted off her feet and thrown back rolling to nearly the edge of the roof winded, stumbling away from the fight. The opening meant Corvayne could take another shot at it. He brought the butt of his spear around. [Cross-Skill: Shield Bash] staggered the monster. Once more he used the opening this time aiming for the wound on the back leg.

It responded with a warding spray of fire, forcing Corvayne back. The monster leapt off the ground and flew to the roof of the exit door. Corvayne used the moment to check on Wick. He was surprised her glasses were still on. He ripped the remains of his shirt off as it was just fuel for the thing's fire. His cloak, shockingly, didn't burn or melt.

“You alright?”

She wheezed in a breath then took a moment to look at him wearing a cloak but no shirt. A little smile crossed her face then. Her voice was strained “Just... hrfff... kill that thing”

The monster was inhaling, puffing up to swelling, it's belly glowing.

Corvayne looked at Wick “Hold your sword out!”

She stuck it in front of her as the creature spewed an impossible fan of fire out. The blade glowed bright blue and Wick's breath was visible a moment before the fire hit where they were standing. The wave of flame faded to just a blast of very hot air around them. Elsewhere, the roof was blackened with the results of their fight. The little dragon panted, then started sucking in air again. Corvayne rushed at the little roof access it was perched on. When it started it's fan of fire, he used [Flow-Like-Water]. The moves he had been using seemed to be more manageable given he was trying to emulate the intended weapon with each use. Wick was standing and breathing heavily: the sword had protected her again. He put his spear in his mouth then climbed up a ladder in the back of the little square building, getting behind the dragon who had spent another wave of hot fire out at Wick. Wick herself was slowly backing behind the other building. He lept forward off the last rung and had his spear back in his hands in moments. The thing did notice him but it was too late to stop him from once more using [Backstab] and blasting out a chunk of it's upper hind leg.

It turned and started tried to bite him, scraping his collarbone with a horn, but Corvayne was done, and not just because he had gotten cooked. He brought his spear across as a bar and pushed it onto the dragons mouth, then braced his foot against the upper handle of the ladder and shoved, ignoring it's claws wrecking his leg and one hitting his sore rib. He just pushed hard, arms bulging, and the dragon suddenly was off balance from clawing, trying to put weight on it's now lame back leg to stop it from getting pushed over. It toppled from the smaller roof to the arena, landing hard on it's back with a screech and a crack from one of it's wings. Corvayne gave it credit: the little monster still tried to breath a cone of fire up at him, which Corvayne backed away from until the dragon was spent. Then, he gripped his spear point down. He had seen Spears-Like-Water, who had incredible legs that let her vault into the air, take down large monsters with leaping attacks who otherwise had hides they couldn't pierce. Heck, the name of flying spear knights in the books looked like the word dragon because supposedly that's what they were made for fighting.

If he couldn't do what they did with the help of a roof, he would eat his own spear.

He lept into the air aimed at landing on the dragon laying on the ground, then felt something like lead pulling him down even faster then gravity. In that moment he was in the air, even with wounds bleeding and burns all over his torso that would hurt for at least a week, even knowing Wick would probably push him away over the next few days, even having no idea if he had a job after vanishing for god-knows-how long... He was flying, cape behind him, about to drive his spear into a god damned dragon and he felt so perfectly in his element he actually laughed as he drew a skill out, one that he didn't think he could even stop himself from performing.

[Leap Strike]

He drove his spear down and it was like the hammer of the gods driving his spear through the beast, the impact buckling the stone tiles to form a crater as and punching a hole through the beast big enough to see through. There was immense satisfaction as he watched the surprised creature spit one last pitiful gout of flame then die. He was covered in it's blood, and dust, and grit. His wounds would probably put him up for at least a week: The claw hit and him leaping almost certainly broke that rib. But he lifted his spear up and roared for a moment. He looked at his companion. Wick's jaw had dropped open. Then she shut it and folded her arms.

“Don't overdo it, it was only the size of a dog!”

His retort died when everything blurred and went black.

Killing the monster... had his wounds been worse then he thought? Or did it force them out of the space? No. He was in the dark... there would be sounds otherwise. There were faint dark gray words flowing by. He caught a few. The first one was [...first group clearing...] then he saw [Experience]... it came up a lot. An instance or two of [Cascadian Goblin]. Trying to focus on them failed. Whatever was making him think in brackets, he couldn't quite connect with it. It just slid off his mind faster the more he tried. Oh well. He felt wind pushing him up. No... he was falling. Uh oh, did it deposit him in the night sky relative to how far they climbed? No, if it did he'd already have splatted on a pine tree somewhere in the park. Instead he suddenly dropped out of a cloud into another weird space.

Landing on the ground didn't hurt or make a sound. He just suddenly was standing on a cracked dark blue earthen hill in another space where the sky swirled red and purple with ominous clouds crackling with lightning and tinged in bright blue light. Huge stone gates leading to nowhere dotted the hill he was on and other hills, paleolithic arches rising out of a mist covering red, purple, blue, and black thorns. There was a moment of panic where he couldn't find Wick, but he relaxed as something let him know she was near, just not here.

That's when he saw a being at least twelve feet tall no more then ten feet away. How he missed it before, he didn't know. The thing looked like it was a pillar of lightning. It wore armor over it's extended form. Swirling thunder danced across both the glowing blue metal it wore, and it's hands. It wore an armored hood, glowing eyes crackling as it regarded him. He relaxed... somehow he knew it wasn't hostile. In fact, the lack of sensation under his feet... this felt like a dream. He looked up at the being and waved.

He saw it's eyes look down to regard him, then it slowly shook it's head and spoke in an inhuman voice with commanding weight to it.

“NOT. READY.”

It crouched a little, and he could feel the air charge and then it vaulted with a tremendous clap of thunder into the stormy sky, vanishing in an instant.

“Well... that was rude.” He stood up and dusted himself off. One nice thing: his body didn't hurt right now. So... where was he, and what was he going to do?

There were gates. He saw they were shut by stone doors and most of them had a tremendous amount of thorny plants growing up out of the ground to wrap them in layers of spikes. They stood without anything on either side of them, aside from a pair that seemed to be facing the edge of the hill that he could only approach safely from one way. Down the hill: the ground was coated in curled thorny vines. If he wanted to leave the hill, he'd be wading into them.

The hill he was on had 10 gates. He examined them and noted that any two differed slightly. The first he looked at seemed to have little currents of air around it. The arch of the stone gate had a mark on the top, it looked like someone had carved three lines like a slash mark there. The vines on that one were somewhat thick: it would take him a few minutes and some seriously painful wounds to pull them open. The next one he examined had a paint brush on it. There was a thin drizzle of yellow with lines of sky blue liquid running down the stones to disappear into the ground. The stuff didn't seem to flow over the dark thorns and there were fewer. The next one had darker stones behind the vines, the etching on the top looking like a web with a bowling ball dragging it into a sort of upside down cone. Another had an image of a web and looked like spiders had spent a decade decorating the stones. One had a man running and mostly boring stones but a few delta shapes carved into the pillars holding the door up. Another had what looked like a bear trap on it, and the stone itself looked like it was peppered in arrows. It was all weird and surreal, but he had a sense he was stuck until he picked one.

He noted that two of the gates, the ones on the side, were larger and thicker with thorns. He looked at them. One was oriented in the direction of an island with a circle of larger gates, the center of which held a titanic stone arch that was twice as large as any others, completely wrapped up with layers and layers of thorns except for the capstone, visible through the mess with a lightning bolt on it. Why was that one so heavily guarded?

The gates closer: The one off to the big gate was itself size and a half the others, and made of black crystal. A red mark, something like a weird 5, was at the top. The thorns were triple wrapped around it. He looked at his bare hands. Not his first option. The other was not as tightly wrapped, and the carving at the top showed what looked like tendrils coming out of a hand. Thin wisps of darkness wrapped around the door, sort of how mist would roll off dry ice. Okay. Two more.

The last pair of doors was one that on closer inspection had wood running up the stone block, mixed in with the black vines which were smaller and less jagged. The mark at the top had a magnifying glass. The last door was another small one but had green-black vines curled all around it. It had a pair of crossed staves.

He checked the mists then, seeing if there was a path out without dealing with the gates. Winding his way around, the mist would part enough on the steep slope to show him tangled thorns waiting to rip apart anyone trying to wade between islands. A little looking and he found a gap in the brush and, after carefully climbing down, he followed it until it dead-ended halfway to another hill with four gates on it. From down in the mist he could see the gates and hills extended further then he had thought. He strode back, then checked for other paths. Two more snaked away, but neither connected to another hill without wading through thorns. He would try a gate then.

He checked off the big obsidian black one: he'd be a wreck trying to open it. No to spiders, Maybe the one dripping paint. The one with arrows looked dangerous. He didn't get some of them, being perfectly honest. He wish he understood what the gates markings and differences were telling him. He stood in front of them, trying to let his mind empty. No help from the instincts that had been pushing him. He then looked again at the shadow one. It had thinner vines, and he was good in the dark. Also, thinking back to some of the skills he had seen the weapons masters using, he was sure any ghosts or shades would have a very bad time fighting him if he set them free by picking that door: Some of the attacks he saw performed were 'derived from exorcism rituals'.

Someone in charge of training obviously wanted them to have a tool to fight ghosts. If he ever saw the Watchers again and wasn't shot on sight, he'd have some questions about what exactly he had been training for. Aside from fighting actual dragons, of course.

He took a deep breath and started pulling the thorns away from the large shadow gate. Each tug he'd inevitably snag something on a thorn, the pain weirdly sharp despite many other things feeling dream like. Even when he tried using his spear to chop at it, he'd get bloody marks up and down his arms. He hissed and stopped, then looked at his spear.

Odd... he only had his spear? Where was his pack? But he had his spear, and wounds or not he was away from Wick. Assuming she was safe because they were at the exit area, she might be wandering through a portal out into a pack of murderous giant ape-men. He grimly set himself to cutting away enough of the crud to get to the door without ripping himself apart. He was scraped up by the end, arms and legs bleeding from dozens of cuts when a spear strike snapped the entire mass of vines and they fell to the ground and dissolved into greasy smoke.

He set his spear to one hand and experimentally pushed on the door. The gate creaked open at the first real push, revealing a dark place beyond that didn't match the hill. He took a tentative step within, finding what looked like a dimly lit wood floor in endless black. Empty besides himself. No light visible above even if the floor was. Then a shadow moved. Another did, a tendril or foot questing into the light. He pivoted but it was too late: The door slammed shut and shadows rushed him and he...

He woke, gasping as all the pain from the fights came rolling back into him, with another odd feeling he couldn't describe. He was alive, thankfully... back on the rooftop, a ways away from the dragon. Wick had pulled his bedroll out and now it was further stained with blood from him resting on it after getting shredded up twice. She looked concerned.

“You okay? You can't keep nodding off on the job.” Her voice betrayed a hint of panic.

“Sorry.” Corvayne sat up, then paused. His hands were in front of him, but he had pushed himself up . What was going on? Had he lost that much blood?

“There was this place... with weird gates... and vines....”

Wick looked confused. “Didn't see it. I do feel weird too, so maybe that monster meat or something causes hallucinations?”

He shook his head. “It's... probably nothing. Wait! Before we leave... can I have a few minutes with your knife?”

Everything else they had killed was probably not worth a red cent. But... in books dragon scales and horns and stuff were used to make legendary armor. Even though he'd be lucky to get a jacket out of this little runt... a jacket is a jacket. He started prying scales off, and Wick seeing what he was doing gave him the steel knife they had found earlier.

She huffed a little sigh. “Once we are out of here, we will keep our public relationship professional, platonic... got it? I don't want to deal with Dawn or anyone else...”

“You were very clear before we...” A little bit of bitterness edged into his voice so he cleared his throat and started over. Warriors resolve. “I'll keep a lid on it, but I appreciated it, and you. I'll be your friend, and partner in the paranormal business but I won't try to be your lover ... If you decide any of that needs to change, I will follow your wishes.” His heart would be OK as long as she kept her glasses on and her hair tied in the sort of goofy style she usually wore. He hoped.

She laughed a little. “See! That's why I like you. It sounds real when you say it like that.” She then swore as she watched him peel another scale off.

“The scales on it's head are really small... oh I got an idea.”

Then with his spear envisioned his battleaxe training. Not so much the timing needed to nail someone with the extremely dangerous weapon, but instead the concept of finishing a foe who had stumbled a moment off.

[Cross-Skill: Execute] activated and he sliced the dragon's head off. Wick looked at him like he was nuts.

Corvayne smiled and hefted the head. “How cool will this look mounted?”

“That's what you choose to do with a cryptid? Are you going to eat it's heart too?” She looked down at the body and looked a little sick.

“Uh... that's just in stories that doing that gives you power or whatever, right? I bet it tastes amazing.” He watched her torn between her own revulsion at seeing bodies and the memories of monster meat.

His own stomach grumbled. He was not about to eat the dragon raw, but he wouldn't have put it past some other Watchers to do such a thing.

Wick stood up and stepped away from the body. “I'll carry your pack for a moment but YOU gotta lug that thing.”

The dragon indeed weighed more then it looked. Wick was complaining after lifting his pack that she had been tricked until Corvayne set the corpse down and challenged her to lift the dragon instead. After one attempt trying to drag it by a less mangled leg she conceded and they finally strolled through the exit door... into another forested area. No monsters this time: it looked like they were at a picnic pavilion, with benches on grass around a covered concrete square that had a single bench in it. Aside from normal looking green and brown trees there was a sign next to one of the paths away from the clearing labeled “Exit to parking”. Another sign read: “Cascadia Forest Floors 6 through 10.” on a bark chip path heading uphill. And most importantly, there was a large cooler sitting on the lone table under the awning. It looked like it was glowing almost.

Corvayne strode up to it and popped it open, feeling only a little regret that the tiny dragon didn't have a stash of gold. Inside the cooler were a pair of daggers, made of silvery blue-teal metal somewhat like the sword they had found. A Note reading 'BBQ' was taped to them. There was also a pair of what looked like small plastic sports drinks, red, with a stylized logo that said 'HEALING POTION'. They were cool to the touch. One blue one with 'MANA POTION'. A pack of sausages with a picture of a cartoon griffon in lederhozen labeled 'SPICY GRIFFON BRATWURST'... a large flask with a stopper bound in rope with a stylized dragon's mouth that looked like it should be a potion that granted eternal youth but had lemons floating in it and was clearly labeled 'LEMONADE IF YOU'RE THIRSTY.' A smaller opaque yellow flask said 'YE OLD MUSTARD'.

Someone had also packed bread, cheese, and some rolls, napkins, and paper plates. All were cold... the cooler seemed to glow blue. The napkins had little dragons printed on them. The dungeon must think it's a riot.

The last thing he found were four condoms (Spear-Man Brand. Hah!) with a note that said in black marker 'Use a condom' double underlined. He could read it, but he was pretty sure it was written in an alien language when he focused on the letters. That yellow post it note had been scrunched up but unfurled, with a wink drawn in red marker under it.

He showed both to Wick. She looked at him, then the pack. He refrained from wiggling his eyebrows. He did not wink at her. He did not jiggle the cold silvery line of condoms. He did not look hopeful. He kept himself stone faced and simply presented the loot. Her face paled “Fuck. Does it think you got me...” She slapped her forehead. “Not going to say it. I gotta stop at the pharmacy on the way back.”