Merchant Crab

“Hey, I think I heard some rumor about this recently,” said Balthazar, rubbing his chin casually.

Both the orcs and the lizards did not share his calm, however. The three warrior brothers tensed up, their muscles flexing as their brows furrowed deep. The lizard envoy peered deep into the darkness, looking for movement while his watcher moved closer to his rear, hiding in his shadow as she scanned the area behind him for any danger.

“There is something foul upon the lands tonight,” Khargol said.

“Oh, please,” the dismissive crab said with a shake of his claw. “Some adventurer told me about something like this the other day, but knowing how those idiots are, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I would be more concerned if I were you,” said Jorg’ath, pulling his long spear from his back. “I smell the stench of death.”

“I swear it wasn’t me,” Balthazar joked, attempting to lighten the mood with no success.

The dense cloud of green mist poured out of the grass and washed over the cobblestones of the road like bile, the moaning and grunting growing louder as the sound of dragging feet joined its unsettling chorus.

“Stand ready, brothers!” the chieftain commanded. “And you, crab, if you value your golden shell, stick close to your bodyguard!”

“I sense movement from within the mist.” Jorg’ath gripped his spear tight before hissing a command to his watcher. “Jazk, to the shadows!”

Balthazar barely had time to look behind the envoy and see the other lizard step out of the light and into the darkness, making no sound or leaving any trace.

Still skeptical about the threat, but seeing no reason to risk his precious behind, the crab remained close to Bouldy’s legs as the golem used his higher point of view to look over the approaching fog.

As his rocky friend pointed one of his thick fingers towards the center of the green mass, Balthazar saw the first figure emerge from it.

The tall figure of a man in black, tattered robes slowly walked out of the mist, his head slightly thrown back and his mouth ajar. He had sickly pale skin and a gaping hole where one of his eyes used to be.

Balthazar winced in disgust, but for some reason, he felt like he recognized the man from somewhere.

Following close behind came another two figures, both moaning and shambling along aimlessly.

One looked to have been a wizard at some point, his robes now old and filthy. He had the most erratic walk among the trio and most of his body was contorted in unnatural ways, as if most of his bones were broken.

On the other flank came what looked like your average adventurer, wearing common armor and no remarkable features, other than that he looked very dead. As the crab looked closer, however, he realized his face was partially smashed in.

Balthazar squinted at the walking dead coming out of the grass, focusing hard on the nagging feeling that there was something familiar there, but it wasn’t until he looked again at the one with the smashed face and noticed him dragging a leg as he walked that it finally dawned on him. The undead adventurer’s ankle was nearly cut off from the rest of his leg, like it had been snapped.

Snapped by a mighty pincer of karma.

“Wait a minute! I know these clowns!” Balthazar exclaimed, pointing his claw at the shambling dead.

His words, however, were either ignored or not heard by the others, as the chieftain shouted warnings to the others.

“Burznarfuogol, take the left! Yaturwurtguthvarbu, to the right! I shall hold the middle,” Khargol ordered, before looking at the lizard envoy. “Jorg’ath, there may still be more dangers hiding in the mist. I trust you can cover our flanks?”

The lizard nodded. “I got it covered, friend.”

Both of the orc warriors tossed their still lit torches down on the road, their orange light overpowered by the now much stronger green glow coming from within the mist, as they pulled out their clubs from their belts.

Balthazar shook his shell as he watched the group of warriors preparing for combat. Not only did he wonder how the orcs didn’t find it unpractical to say all those long names in the middle of battle, but he also didn’t understand why they were making such a big fuss over a few dumb former adventurers.

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Pinching his monocle with his silver pincer, the crab tried to take a better look at the approaching ghouls.

[Level 13 Zombie Necromancer]

[Level 7 Zombie Wizard]

[Level 5 Zombie Fighter]

As he suspected, they were three of the first adventurers he interacted with so long ago, when he first came in contact with the Scroll of Character creation on that one fateful day.

“Guys, come on, don’t worry. I’ve met these idiots way back when they were still alive, and trust me, if they weren’t smart before, I bet they’re even worse now.”

The others did not seem convinced by the crab’s reassurances, but as they prepared to engage with the zombies, the shamblers suddenly stopped.

A fourth shadow began forming behind the smoke-like substance surrounding the dead. The green glow grew stronger as the shade took shape, as if whoever was approaching was the very source of the sickly light.

Balthazar’s eye stalks stretched forward, trying to see who was coming their way and inspect them with his monocle.

A man, or at least what resembled one, stepped out of the fog, wearing long, embroidered dark robes covered in runic symbols. A hood extended from the robe’s shoulders, pulled over his head and face that looked more like a skull covered by a thin layer of skin.

He waved his left hand, and the mist moved aside as if commanded by his will. In his other hand, he held a long, twisted staff ending on a green ball.

[Level 30 Arch-Necromancer]

There was something else that came with him, something Balthazar couldn’t quite see or explain, but the air that surrounded the man was heavier, and even more green, as if he himself were emanating a green glow.

What finally gave the crab reason for concern, however, were the effects it seemed to have on the others.

Khargol and his two warrior brothers had frozen in place, fists clenched tight, teeth grinding as if flinching against a strong gust of wind. The lizard envoy, Jorg’ath, held on to his upright spear with one hand as the other one went down to the ground along with one of his knees, looking as though an unbearable weight had fallen upon his shoulders.

Something was amiss. Something about the Arch-Necromancer himself was affecting them, but despite Balthazar also feeling the same cold, heavy air around him, he could not feel anything else different.

“What… kind of sorcery is… this?” the orc chieftain strained to say, between clenched fangs.

“Ahh, finally,” the ghoulish figure uttered, in a voice that sounded like someone who really needed a drink of water for how dry it was. “Corpses that will be worth raising. Strong, muscular, and agile. Not flabby, unfit, and ridiculous looking like some of those other adventurers I’ve found so far. You will definitely be a worthy addition to my army.”

“Uh, excuse me, creepy fella?” Balthazar asked, rising a claw. “This here is the front of my bazaar. If you could maybe take your stench elsewhere, that’d be nice, alright? Thanks.”

The man looked in the crab’s direction as if it was the first time he was noticing his presence. With a short and swift motion of his hand, his three servants stepped aside and made way for their master to go forward. He walked, yet his slow motion towards Balthazar looked almost like he was floating over a thin layer of fog around the edge of his robes.

“How peculiar,” the Arch-Necromancer said, bringing his long, creepy fingers that reminded Balthazar of a spider’s legs up to his chin.

“Yes, I know, a talking crab. I get that a lot,” the unbothered merchant said, turning his arms and claws into a shrug.

“You seem unaffected by my aura,” the other continued, ignoring Balthazar’s words. “That is most unusual.”

“You have an aura? You mean other than the stink mist one?” the crab said, one eye stalk raised higher than the other.

Through the corner of his eye, Balthazar spotted Jorg’ath, who was now behind the man’s view. He could barely raise his head, but he was letting go of his spear and letting himself fall to the side, as if making room for… something.

Out of the dark at the edge of the road, a lizard in dark armor leapt into the light with a speed and grace that made not a sound around her.

With one swift move, Jazk grabbed her commander’s spear and spun into the air, rushing towards the Arch-Necromancer with the tip of the weapon held in front of her.

The ghastly man tilted his head calmly, not turning but yet making it clear he had noticed someone was coming at him.

The Shadowstalker did not make it any closer to him than two or three steps. As if pushed down by an invisible hand, she fell to her hands and knees, the spear rolling away from her as she struggled not to collapse completely.

That weird figure completely incapacitated all five of his guests, and he had not even needed to raise a finger to make it happen. Balthazar was beginning to suspect he might be dangerous. At least just a little.

Puzzled by how he was doing it, Balthazar looked around, trying to make sense of it, when his monocle picked up on something and gave him a notification.

[Dread Aura]

[Demoralizes lower level sentient beings in the area and keeps them from fighting back.]

Balthazar would have snapped his fingers, had he any.

“So that’s what it is!”

Once again, the man seemed to pay no mind to the crab’s ramblings and continued on his own monologue.

“There must be something special about you if you can resist my powers. I have never reanimated a crab before, but perhaps you will be the first.”

“That’s a good question,” Balthazar said, also paying little mind to the fact that a powerful Arch-Necromancer was a mere five paces away from him. “Why the hell is that aura thing doing nothing to me?”

He rubbed his chin for a moment before his eyes bulged out and then frowned as he put it all together.

“Hey, wait a moment! Is this stupid system insulting me again by insinuating I don’t count as sentient?! Oh, that is just typical!”

The undead master tilted his staff horizontally and began swinging it slowly, causing the orb at its tip to glow as green swirls of magic formed around it.

“You talk too much,” the man said menacingly. “Good thing the dead don’t speak.”

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