As Balthazar stood between those two trees, in a dark forest at night, right oh of an ining 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 tain, if anything at all. Was he doing it out of kio a fancy-talking ghost on the side of the road? Certainly not. Could it be that he was somehow finding a taste for pletely reckless behavior like those foolish adventurers?

  He shook off the thought. Not only because it seemed inceivable to him, but also because there were more pressing matters at pi 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 restrig his movements.

  “Ah! I knew I’d find a use for that invisible cloak!” Balthazar cheerfully excimed. “One zombie ing up for the gentleman in the white e!”

  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 pn to work, but that was impressive teamwork.”

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

  The mert extended his cws towards the zombie still struggling on the forest floor, arms tightly held against his body as it twitched and s the invisible cloak binding him.

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

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

  Balthazar stared at the body and then its former owner for an awkward moment. “ht, because of the whole… ’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 pihinking.

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

  “We already went through all the work of snatg him up, and now we also gotta carry this undead weight back to where it died?” the mert 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-rotteure with a tinge of disgust. “But he looks pretty bitey…”

  “Oh, e now,” the jolly phantom said, “you already did the hardest part of capturing it. All ed 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 crusta 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 mert picked up the zombie ed in an invisible cloak, still struggling against what it could not see or uand.

  “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 returo the road and soon after arrived at a lone shrine by the side of it.

  Two broken pilrs of white stone fnked 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 pg 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 in front of the fountain. The creature grunted, still frustrated by the piece of invisible fabriding its body.

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

  The mert looked at the nobleman from the er of his eye. “You’re not having sed thoughts, are you?”

  “What?” said Alrd, 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 aalk. “Alright then, should I tell Blue to start the fireworks or…”

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

  “What medallion?”

  “Before I died,” expihe ghost, “I always wore this gold medallion that was given to me by my te mother when I was a young man. I believe that object is now what ane to this pne. Even now, here, I feel its pull weighing on me, ing from it, around his neck.”

  Balthazar looked down at the strained 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 wao destroy a gold medallion? Now you’re asking too mue.”

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

  The mert frowned. “’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?”

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

  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 kig, 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 unc the back of the twitg creature’s neck, the crab grabbed hold of the thin around it and gave it a swift snap.

  “Got it!” said the mert, holding up his cw, a solid golden medallion hanging from it by a .

  “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, mao break free from its hold, growling loudly as it rushed back to its feet.

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

  But the crab was not fast enough.

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

  “Ahhh!” screamed the panig crusta as the undead ped down on him. “…ah?”

  Balthazar twisted his eyestalks up, to look at the rotting shambler slumped over his shell. With loud sug he 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, the se with stunned fasation.

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

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

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

  “Boss, boss!” excimed 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 suct crab fondue.

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

  “Oh, f out loud!” excimed 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 tiruggling 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 sug. It simply let go of the crab and stood back up to its feet.

  “What in the world?” said the surprised crusta, moving away from his assaint.

  “I… I don’t uand,” the zombie said in its guttural, gested 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 uand what just happened.”

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

  The fused 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!” Alrd said, shrugging his rotting shoulders.

  “Great, and now what?” said Balthazar. “ 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 fused 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,” Alrd said. “That’s rude, Ned.”

  Balthazar stared at the two of them, fused, while putting some more distaween 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 standihe ghost, dumbly gawking at him with his arms dangling.

  “I believe it feels some sort of e 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 … 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 wao move on,” the mert said, “and stop your deg corpse from going around embarrassing you, or whatever?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “And for my corpse’s appalling behavior, I offer you my si apologies.” Sir ook an awkward bow, like someoill learning how to move properly, and Balthazar gazed in slight disfort 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 mert sighed.

  “I guess if that’s what you want,” he said with a shrug. “The t 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 mihe crab suddenly excimed. “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 mert 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 dire the zombie ointing his gnawed fi.

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

  “What?!” excimed the baffled mert. “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 s]

  [+1 Scroll of Potential]

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

  “Well, I believe this cludes 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 yhost,” the crab said. “Hey, wait, don’t fet 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 mert extended his pincer, 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 e to answer your summons. sider it a bonus reward for helping me rediscover my will to live… or unlive, I suppose.”

  The haunted corpse ughed.

  “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 pleted!]

  [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 m.

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