Merchant Crab

As Balthazar stood between those two trees, in a dark forest at night, right on the path of an incoming zombie, he found himself questioning his life choices.

Was he doing it for the treasure? Or rather, for the potential for treasure? He did not even know what this treasure chest might contain, if anything at all. Was he doing it out of kindness to a fancy-talking ghost on the side of the road? Certainly not. Could it be that he was somehow finding a taste for completely reckless behavior like those foolish adventurers?

He shook off the thought. Not only because it seemed inconceivable to him, but also because there were more pressing matters at pincer at that moment.

Mainly the hungry ghoul lunging at him.

Please just work…

Sir Edmund’s reanimated dead body threw itself forward, mouth open and ready to have a crab dinner, when suddenly it crumpled up and fell on the ground rolling.

Yes!

The zombie grunted and growled as it rolled around on the dirt, angry and frustrated by the unseen force restricting his movements.

“Ah! I knew I’d find a use for that invisible cloak!” Balthazar cheerfully exclaimed. “One zombie wrap coming up for the gentleman in the white ectoplasm!”

Druma jumped out from behind a bush and quickly found the edges of the cloak, tying them together around the captured ghoul.

“I must admit,” Sir Edmund’s ghost said, appearing through a tree trunk nearby, “I did not expect your plan to work, but that was impressive teamwork.”

“Ha, never doubted it for a second!” the crab said. “Well, there you go, your former body all wrapped and ready for you, as promised.”

The merchant extended his claws towards the zombie still struggling on the forest floor, arms tightly held against his body as it twitched and snapped at the invisible cloak binding him.

The spirit glanced down and then back up at the crab.

“You, uh… you do realize I cannot do anything with it, do you not?”

Balthazar stared at the body and then its former owner for an awkward moment. “Oh, right, because of the whole… can’t touch physical stuff… ghostly business… thing. Well, that sucks.”

The crab stood back straight and scratched the top of his shell with the tip of his pincer, thinking.

“It seems the only course of action is for you and your crew to carry him back to the spring,” Sir Edmund said.

“We already went through all the work of snatching him up, and now we also gotta carry this undead weight back to where it died?” the merchant bemoaned. “This is turning into way too much work.”

“Well, I would do it, but you know…” The ghost waved his hands through the nearby tree branches, with no effect.

Balthazar looked down at the half-rotten creature with a tinge of disgust. “But he looks pretty bitey…”

“Oh, come now,” the jolly phantom said, “you already did the hardest part of capturing it. All wrapped up like that, he won’t be any trouble, so long as you’re careful. Just remember why you are doing this and use it as motivation to push through to the finish line!”

“Right,” the crab said while nodding. “To get the treasure chest.”

“I… I meant to help a traveler in need, but sure, that works as well.”

The crustacean threw his arms up. “Alright, we’re burning moonlight here, let’s go. Druma, grab his feet, I’ll take the other end.”

With the help of his green assistant, the merchant picked up the zombie wrapped in an invisible cloak, still struggling against what it could not see or understand.

“Oof, heavy, but not as bad as I thought,” Balthazar said. “I guess dying is a great weight-loss program. Alright, show us the way to that slippery fountain of yours, Sir Ghost.”

The group navigated through the forest for a while, until they returned to the road and soon after arrived at a lone shrine by the side of it.

Two broken pillars of white stone flanked an old path leading to a fountain fed by a small spring spilling from a rocky hill behind it.

“Ah, still a beautiful sight, despite the bad memories,” said Sir Edmund.

“Yeah, sure,” said Balthazar, taking care to avoid placing any of his eight feet on any of the old polished stones surrounding the fountain. “Let’s just get on with this. I still want to grab some sleep tonight.”

The crab and the goblin unceremoniously dropped the undead wrap in front of the fountain. The creature grunted, still frustrated by the piece of invisible fabric binding its body.

“After all this time,” the spirit said, “it’s hard to believe it’s almost over.”

The merchant looked at the nobleman from the corner of his eye. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“What?” said Allard, snapping out of his empty stare and looking at the crab. “Oh, no, no, certainly not. I’m very much looking forward to crossing over… in peace… and move on… into the unknown of the afterlife.”

The ghost sighed, and the crab cocked an eyestalk. “Alright then, should I tell Blue to start the fireworks or…”

“Wait!” exclaimed Sir Edmund. “My medallion!”

“What medallion?”

“Before I died,” explained the ghost, “I always wore this gold medallion that was given to me by my late mother when I was a young man. I believe that object is now what anchors me to this plane. Even now, here, I feel its pull weighing on me, coming from it, around his neck.”

Balthazar looked down at the constrained zombie. “Alright, and?”

“I believe, in order to make both of us move on, the object must be purged.”

“Hold on,” said the crab, holding both pincers in front of himself in a halting manner. “You want me to destroy a gold medallion? Now you’re asking too much of me.”

“I believe that is the only way to be sure.”

The merchant frowned. “Can’t I just wash up the zombie goop and scrub the ghostly stuff off and keep it for myself? Surely the spirit authorities wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, my friend,” Sir Edmund said.

Balthazar groaned. “Fine, but that’s a huge waste of gold!”

He looked down at the ghoul, still growling and struggling against the cloak tied around him.

“Uh… how do you figure I’ll get the medallion off his neck?”

Allard looked down at his former body too, brow held high. “Carefully?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The crab rolled his eyes before turning them to his goblin assistant. “Here, Druma, help me turn him over.”

Fighting against the zombie’s attempts at kicking, they flipped the shambler onto its stomach.

“Alright, gently now…” said Balthazar, while carefully pulling down the edges of the cloak he could not see with the tips of his pincers. After uncovering the back of the twitching creature’s neck, the crab grabbed hold of the thin chain around it and gave it a swift snap.

“Got it!” said the merchant, holding up his claw, a solid golden medallion hanging from it by a chain.

“Excellent job, Mister Baltha—Watch out!” shouted Sir Edmund.

The zombie, feeling the cloak around him loosen up from where the crab had pulled to reach the medallion, managed to break free from its hold, growling loudly as it rushed back to its feet.

“Oh crap!” exclaimed Balthazar, as he skittered away.

But the crab was not fast enough.

The revenant lunged at him, grabbing hold of his shell as it yelled, “Brains!”

“Ahhh!” screamed the panicking crustacean as the undead chomped down on him. “…ah?”

Balthazar twisted his eyestalks up, to look at the rotting shambler slumped over his shell. With loud suckling noises, the zombie was attempting to bite through the tough chitin, but all he had left were harmless gums.

“What the hell?!”

The still shocked ghost approached them, observing the scene with stunned fascination.

“It would appear that all my former teeth have completely rotted away!” he exclaimed, leaning down to look closer at the suckling ghoul.

“That’s great, but will somebody get this thing off me?!” yelled the crab.

“Goodness gracious, of course, my apologies!” Sir Edmund said, reaching forward to grab his corpse, but his arms simply went through the unfazed zombie. “Oh, right…”

“Boss, boss!” exclaimed the crab’s assistant. “Druma help!”

The goblin pulled at the ghoul’s leg, but to no avail. It would not budge from his attempts at acquiring a succulent crab fondue.

“Get off already!” the merchant cried out. “This is so embarrassing!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” exclaimed the agitated phantom. “Leave the poor crab alone, you foolish mockery of my former self!”

In frustration, Sir Edmund pushed forward into the zombie, but instead of phasing through it, his ethereal form simply vanished.

“Sir Ghost?!” Balthazar called, trying to look around as he continued struggling to get rid of the undead holding him down. “Where did you go? Don’t leave me here with your hungry leftovers!”

Suddenly, the ghoul stopped. No more biting, chewing, or suckling. It simply let go of the crab and stood back up to its feet.

“What in the world?” said the surprised crustacean, moving away from his assailant.

“I… I don’t understand,” the zombie said in its guttural, congested voice.

“Sir Edmund?” Balthazar said tentatively. “Is… is that you in there?”

“Yes, it’s me,” the spirit said through the ghoul, lifting his gaze to the crab, one eyeball looking precariously close to falling off its socket. “But I don’t understand what just happened.”

“Are you… possessing your own body?!” said the merchant.

The confused zombie-ghost looked down at himself. “I think I am!”

“Well, why didn’t you do that from the start!”

“I didn’t know I could!” Allard said, shrugging his rotting shoulders.

“Great, and now what?” said Balthazar. “Can you even leave it?”

“I… I think so.”

With a push, the floating spirit shot out of the zombie, who dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes that had gone bad weeks ago.

“Ha! It worked!” the excited ghost said.

Standing up and shaking his head, the confused corpse looked around for a moment, before spotting the crab and charging towards him again.

“No!” yelled Sir Edmund. “Ned, stop!”

The zombie froze on the spot, and seemed to frown briefly, before looking back at the ghost.

“We don’t bite the nice crab,” Allard said. “That’s rude, Ned.”

Balthazar stared at the two of them, confused, while putting some more distance between himself and the zombie.

“Ned?” the crab asked, looking at the spirit with a cocked eyestalk.

“It’s what my mother used to call me when I was young,” Sir Edmund said. “In the spur of the moment, it seemed fitting, and… I guess it reached him, in some way.”

The shambler was standing near the ghost, dumbly gawking at him with his arms dangling.

“I believe it feels some sort of connection to me.”

With a dive forward, Sir Edmund took hold of Ned again.

“It’s like slipping into a very moist suit,” the nobleman said through the raspy voice of the ghoul.

“Lovely,” said the crab, with an affected smile. “But, uh, what now? Do you want to jump out of there so we can… you know?”

“Oh, goodness, no!” said the possessed zombie, which felt extremely bizarre to Balthazar. “I don’t believe I could now.”

“But I thought you wanted to move on,” the merchant said, “and stop your decaying corpse from going around embarrassing you, or whatever?”

“Well, yes, but now that I came so close to doing it, I will be honest… I’m getting cold feet.”

The crab looked down at the ghoul. “Well, yeah, of course you are.”

“Besides,” Sir Edmund continued, “I can feel him, you know? Between all the hunger and rage, I can feel the anguish and sorrow. There is a connection between us. I am not sure that I can just bring myself to put him down.”

“Are you sure it’s not just all hunger?” Balthazar said.

The possessed body raised his arms, watching his own movements as if for the first time. “I truly believe we could work nicely together, given enough time.”

“Can I remind you that a couple of minutes ago that thing was trying to suck my brains out of my shell?!” the indignant crustacean said.

“And for my corpse’s appalling behavior, I offer you my sincerest apologies.” Sir Ned took an awkward bow, like someone still learning how to move properly, and Balthazar gazed in slight discomfort as its jaw looked dangerously close to falling off. “I swear to you that I will make sure he will not harm anyone else ever again.”

The merchant sighed.

“I guess if that’s what you want,” he said with a shrug. “The client is always right in matters of taste. Even really bad taste.”

The zombie nodded and proceeded to do a few stretches. Balthazar shook his head and wondered how he always got himself in the weirdest of situations.

“Hey, wait a minute!” the crab suddenly exclaimed. “You don’t think that gets you off the hook from paying me, do you?!”

“Oh, no, no, certainly not!” the ghost-zombie said. “You did your part impeccably. You have more than earned your reward, good sir!”

“Good,” the merchant said, while pulling out his map. “Then show me where this treasure chest is.”

“Oh, no need for that. The chest is right there.”

Balthazar frowned as he followed the direction the zombie was pointing his gnawed finger at.

Skittering a few steps, the crab looked behind the fountain. There, half buried in the soil, was a wooden chest, sticking out of the ground at an angle.

“What?!” exclaimed the baffled merchant. “This thing was here the whole time?”

The ghoul nodded.

“How did nobody see it and loot it yet?!”

Sir Ned shrugged. “Perhaps they were too busy slipping and falling?”

The crab grumbled, but the feeling of annoyance went away quickly once he cracked open the lid and the shiny glow of gold hit his eyes.

“Ooh yes, this is what I’m talking about!”

[+300 crowns]

[+1 Scroll of Potential]

After pocketing his loot, Balthazar returned to the front of the fountain, making sure to give the ground stones a wide berth.

“Well, I believe this concludes our deal,” Sir Ned said, while still flexing his joints like someone preparing for a run. “I think I shall go take my old body for a spin, to get reacquainted with it.”

“Whatever floats your ghost,” the crab said. “Hey, wait, don’t forget this. Usually I’d want to keep it, but heh… you said it was a family heirloom and that it anchors you, so I guess you’d better take it.”

The merchant extended his pincer, offering the medallion back to the zombie.

The possessed ghoul looked at it for a moment.

“You know what, you should keep it,” he said. “I now believe Ned here is my true anchor to this world.”

“Oh,” said Balthazar, looking at the shiny gold.

“I still feel a strong pull to it, however” Ned added. “If you ever find yourself in need of a ghost’s aid, hold it tight and call for me, I will come to answer your summons. Consider it a bonus reward for helping me rediscover my will to live… or unlive, I suppose.”

The haunted corpse laughed.

“Farewell, Sir Crab!”

With a shambling limp, the ghost in the zombie left into the night, heading off to the road, occasionally hitting his head on some lower branches. It would probably take him a while to get used to being solid again.

What a strange fellow…

[Quest completed!]

[You have reached level 19!]

After a very strange night, Balthazar found himself with some extra gold, a new skill to uncover, a new level, and a potential new friend. Or perhaps even two?

But all of that would have to wait until the morning.

“I'm dead tired,” the crab said with a yawn.