One-hour writing challenge - "Dream Ghoul"

[Background: Inspired by a friend who does one-hour game-programming challenges, I've decided to undertake the equivalent for fiction writing. I will sit at my laptop, brainstorm a short story idea (any genre), build a tale around it in 60 minutes, then foist the results on anyone still reading this blog.]

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Dream Ghoul

It wasn't hard to be a guard in the fortress of the Dark Lord. All that was required, during your eight-hour shift, was to stay in the appointed room or corridor and do your best to impede any pesky adventurers that came along. If the do-gooding bastards happened to make it past you, they'd inevitably fall foul of the ogre twins on Dungeon Level 4 or the dragon on Dungeon Level 6. Rarely did any of them reach the Dark Lord's opulent throne room, and the ones that did were inevitably too weakened to put up much of a fight against His necromantic magicks.

It wasn't hard to be a guard in the fortress of the Dark Lord. Especially if, like Gareth, you were the reanimated skeleton of an ancient warrior, killed in a battle most historians had forgotten. You might lose an arm or leg to sword strokes or, at the very worst, be blasted apart by a Fireball spell. But the Dark Lord would eventually pop up to your remains in a spare moment and repair the damage with an Unholy Mending followed by an Imbue Unlife.

It wasn't hard to be a guard in the fortress of the Dark Lord. What WAS hard was being utterly in love with the ghoul on Dungeon Level 2 when she only had rotting eyeballs for the ghost on Dungeon Level 5. This was the situation in which poor Gareth found himself. Though he'd technically been heartless for centuries, the skeleton felt a burning desire inside his empty ribcage for Serena the ghoul. He could see past her worm-riddled flesh to the hot elf chick she once was, prior to being slain and then magickally drafted into eternal service by the Dark Lord.

Gareth knew in his not-heart that he could win Serena over if he could find a way to eliminate that jerk of a ghost, Sir Adrian, with his dashing blue glow and manly ethereal chains. Whenever Gareth was off duty and headed down to Dungeon Level 2 with a posy of stinkblossoms or, if he could grab it before the ravenous devil hounds, a hunk of fresh adventurer meat, Serena would graciously accept the gift, then begin talking about Sir Adrian. Did Gareth think the stinkblossom she'd placed behind her ear would appeal to the ghost? Was her blood-lipsticked smile too saucy? Would it give Sir Adrian the wrong impression?

Then one day the skeleton came up with a plan. He waited until the next adventuring party rounded the corner into his dingy corridor on Dungeon Level 1 and, instead of advancing on them with his ancient warhammer, held up a bony hand and said, "WAIT! We could do battle and you'd probably triumph. But chances are I'd get a couple of hits in. And this is only the first of six levels before you face...Him. Alternatively, I could give you a lot of advice on what lies in between. Savage beasts, hidden treasures, cunning traps, lovely views of the underground lake. I'd need something in return, though. You see, there's this ghost on Dungeon Level 5..."