Merchant Crab

***

“I don’t know, this place looks sketchy,” said the young adventurer girl.

“Come on, Lisa, stop being such a scaredy-cat. If Reagan says we’re fine then we shouldn’t worry,” said the girl’s adventuring partner, a young, muscular man wearing a sleeveless leather doublet and holding a large warhammer in his hands, looking ready for action.

“Did you not read the warning on the wall?” said the girl. “It clearly tells adventurers to beware—that’s us!”

“Don’t worry, girl,” said a voice coming from around the ivy-covered corner. “As I’ve told you two back at the inn, so long as you don’t stray too far away from me, you will be fine.”

Walking from the back of the mausoleum, a mage wearing exquisite vestments in multiple shades of blue joined the other two, his bored face framed by the hood over his head. “Just don’t forget you still need to pay me the other half of my commission once we get out.”

Lisa glanced at the open doors of the old building with a still concerned expression. “I just have a bad feeling, James…”

“Ah, come on!” said her friend. “We’re already levels 3 and 2, it’s time we take the training wheels off! And with a level 30 cryomancer backing us up, this is going to be easy. Isn’t that right, Reagan?”

“Sure, whatever you say,” the robed adventurer said, while absentmindedly checking his fingernails. “Everybody knows Tudor’s Hall is child's play, so this should be easy loot and experience for you two with me tagging along.”

“You heard that?” said James with a grin. “I told you my idea was smart. Why risk our skins for real when we can just pay a higher level to carry us?”

The girl sighed and tightened the straps of her backpack against the boiled leather of her light armor. “Alright, if you two are so sure, let’s just go in already, but I’d better not regret this.”

“Oh, I promise you,” said Reagan, snapping his fingers and creating a tiny orb of pale light in front of his face as the trio stepped inside the hall, “you won’t regret a thing.”

***

“Come on, Balthazar, keep up!” said an excited Tom as they ran through the tight corridors hidden behind the dungeon’s tunnels. “I promise you won’t regret coming along for this!”

“Alright, alright, calm down, I’m coming!” said the crab, huffing and puffing as he tried to keep up the pace with the other merchant. “Not everyone is unburdened by the weight of flesh like you.”

As they arrived at what Balthazar estimated was one of the top-most layers of the dungeon, Tom scooted down in front of a fracture on the wall, overlooking a large, poorly lit room on the other side.

“Alright, this is where the adventurers will probably arrive soon,” he explained in a hushed voice.

“Sure, but what exactly are we doing hiding here?” asked the crab, lowering his voice too.

Tom chuckled. “What, do you think we can just step out there and strike a conversation with them, offer some goods for trading? That might work for you, but we’re skeletons, undead, most humans would rather smash our bones to bits first and ask questions never.”

“Alright, fair point, I guess.”

“We know our role, and we find ways to enjoy our job, just like I’m sure you do with yours.”

“Sure, Tom,” Balthazar said, “but I don’t usually get the adventurers around my place killed. Not intentionally, at least. When it happens it tends to be their own fault.”

“Exactly!” said the skeleton. “Same way here. We don’t force any of them to come down into our home. They choose to do it themselves, to smack us around and pillage our stuff. You even saw the sign outside, warning them, but they still come down anyway. And so we do our part. We look spooky, we rattle our bones around, and we set our traps in front of the loot they want. If they decide to turn around and leave, we don’t stop them, but guess what? They don’t, so if they get themselves killed, that’s just the adventurer’s life they signed up for.”

“Right…” the crustacean said, looking down at the floor thoughtfully.

Balthazar found himself out of arguments to offer, and it didn’t feel right to go into a friend’s house and question how they choose to do things there. Tom had never gone to his pond and tried telling him how to do his business either.

Coming from the opposite end of the tunnel, Bob, Jim, and Sal joined them.

“All set?” asked Tom in a whisper.

“The traps have all been reset and the rest of the guys are in position in their respective rooms,” said Bob in his deep voice.

“Great,” the merchant skeleton said, before turning to Balthazar again. “So, this room we’re looking at has a couple of traps, simple stuff, good for filtering out the really dumb ones, and if that doesn’t stop them, Bob here takes the stage.”

The crab looked over Tom’s clavicle, at the skeleton wearing a rusty chestplate, bouncing an old iron mace in his hand.

“He will scare them around a little, look big and menacing as he does, and if that makes them turn around and leave with their tail between their legs, that’s that, we have a few laughs about their spooked faces and let them go. Then—”

They all went quiet and turned to the hole in the wall as the sound of steps echoed from the corridor leading into the room. As the noise grew louder, the faint glow of a light shined through the entrance as well.

“Alright, everybody shush now,” said old Sal, who was being held up against the peephole by Jim. “It’s go time. Bob, get to your position.”

The larger skeleton nodded and put on his rusty bucket helmet before quietly moving past the corner.

Balthazar looked through the wall crack, finding himself growing nervous, for some reason he could not explain.

“Look, there’s a room here,” a young man’s voice said, before stepping into the room.

Behind the hammer-wielding adventurer came two others: a girl with a baton, and a robed caster.

“It’s so dark,” said the girl, looking uncertain about stepping any further.

Without a word, the mage raised his hand, making the floating orb of light following behind him soar towards the ceiling, bathing the chamber in an icy white glow.

“Good one, Reagan!” said the smiling young man. “And you see, Lisa? Nothing to fear here at all.”

As the adventurer opened his arms and spun around to make his point, the caster suddenly reached forward and pulled him back.

A quiet click came from behind the walls and a dart shot out of a small hole in between the cobblestones, zipping right past the boy’s skin, missing him by a hair.

“Watch where you step,” said Reagan with a calm and cold demeanor.

Lisa gasped. “Are you alright, James?!”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” said the other adventurer, running a hand over the area of his body the shot had just missed while looking at the iron dart now lodged into a pillar, a tiny green haze emanating from it.

“Are you going to stand there, or are we going to keep going?” said Reagan. “I’m not getting paid by the hour here.”

The younger adventurer nodded at him and carefully walked around the pillar, avoiding the dart trap.

“Heh, show time,” murmured Tom, glancing at the crab next to him behind the wall.

As the first adventurer set foot past the half point of the room, a stomp caused all three of them to stop. Bob, in his rusted out metal plate and helmet, stepped forward from the shadows, holding his old mace in an intimidating pose, staring head on at the intruders from behind his visor.

“What the…” James said.

“Let’s see if these guys run away,” said Tom, barely holding his giddy mood. “Half the time, Bob’s menacing act is enough to scare adventurers into running back up the stairs crying for their mommies.”

Despite how amused the skeleton was, Balthazar was more concerned with the worried look on Sal’s skull.

“What’s troubling you?” he asked the bearded veteran.

Sitting in Jim’s bony hands, Sal clicked his teeth without looking away from the group of adventurers on the other side.

“Something’s off about that one in the robes. He doesn’t smell of fresh milk like the other two.”

The crab frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“You think there’s reason to worry, Sal?” asked Jim.

“Maybe. I think you should go to your spot in the next room just in case, Jim. These guys might make it past this chamber.”

With a nod, the skeleton in bright lime green shorts stood up, handed Sal’s skull to Tom, and crept away through a dark passage.

“You really think these guys are that—” started Tom.

“Hush! Look,” the skull said, nodding forward.

On the other side, in the chamber, the armored skeleton started walking forward, slowly, the sound of his rattling bones echoing around the room with each step.

“Is he going to attack them?!” Balthazar whispered.

“Nah, don’t worry,” Tom said. “It’s all part of the act, to make it feel real.”

The adventurer with the two-handed hammer bounced up and down as if psyching himself up. “Screw it, it’s just an old and slow skeleton.”

With a yell, he charged forward, hammer held above his head.

Bob brought the hand with the mace back while holding the other arm forward, a large iron shield attached to it.

The hammer struck the shield right in the middle, producing a loud clang around the room, but the skeleton’s bony knees barely buckled.

“Hah, amateur,” whispered Tom. “You gotta really put your back into it, kid.”

James looked at his opponent with shock plastered all over his face, while the bulky skeleton slowly rose back up from behind the shield, his menacing empty gaze staring down into the boy’s soul from behind the weathered metal of his visor.

“Do something! Help him!” the girl yelled at the mage next to her. “What are we even paying you for?”

Reagan rolled his eyes as he uncrossed his arms. “Bloody newbies, can’t even handle a lousy skeleton.”

Passing the strap over his head, the adventurer took off his traveling satchel and tossed it into Lisa’s arms. “Here, hold this while I do your friend’s job for him.”

The caster stepped forward, and James took a couple of steps away from the skeleton, relieved to see some backup.

Bob turned to look at the robed adventurer, but before he had even finished setting his eye sockets on him, Reagan had already begun weaving a spell into his arms.

“Don’t go far,” he said to the younger adventurer.

The whole room and surrounding tunnels, already cold before, suddenly grew even colder, a chilling frost permeating the air all around, as a swirling hail started dancing around the cryomancer’s arms, like snakes made of scintillating ice crystals.

With a snap forward, Reagan sent the stream of frost out at the skeleton’s left leg, which quickly began freezing in place, stuck to the stone floor.

Bob looked down, pulling at his leg bones, but to not avail.

“Alright, make yourself useful, will you?” the mage said to the young man still standing by the side, watching the unfolding events in awe.

James grasped at his hammer tightly, bouncing on his feet from side to side, but clearly uncertain of what to do.

Reagan rolled his eyes once again. “What are you waiting for? Strike the thing already.”

Taking a deep breath, the adventurer lunged forward, roaring as he brought his warhammer back.

Bob tried to bring his shield back up like he had before, but the frost around his leg prevented him from turning properly, and he could not block the strike this time.

With a loud shatter, the attack connected directly with the skeleton, breaking the armor apart in the rusty areas and sending bones flying everywhere.

“Oh crap!” gasped Balthazar with a start, watching in shock as Bob’s remains scattered across the floor.