Episode Six – Morons, Imbeciles and the Walking Dead

Borkum and Hawk Tuah are putting together a crew to go on an adventure. Are you in?

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Transcript

Chapter 6 – Morons, Imbeciles and the Walking Dead

Borkum and Hawk Tuah sat at their usual corner table in the Mermaids Song, the warm glow of the tavern's lanterns casting flickering shadows over their faces. The hum of conversations and clinking tankards surrounded them, but their focus was solely on the daunting task ahead.

Borkum took a long sip from his tankard, his gaze steady on Hawk Tuah. "Alright, Tuah, let's hear it. Why do you think we should break into the Cursed Crypt?"

Hawk Tuah leaned forward, her eyes sharp and determined. "Borkum, I've been thinking about this for a while. The Crypt is dangerous, yes, but it's also our greatest opportunity. I have never heard anyone wanting to venture into it. At least no one from these lands. You are not from here. You are an outsider. I think this gives us an edge. And, if no one talks about raiding it, there could be some treasure there for the taking.”

Borkum raised an eyebrow. "Treasure, huh? We're talking about risking our lives for some gold and trinkets?"

Tuah shook her head. "It's more than just gold and trinkets. The treasures within the Crypt could include powerful artifacts and ancient knowledge. Imagine what we could do with those resources. We could buy alliances, hire the best mercenaries, and even pay off Tarek."

At the mention of Tarek's name, Hawk Tuah cleared her throat and spat on the ground in disgust. The barkeep, a burly man with a stern face, immediately looked their way and shouted, "Hey! Keep it clean in here!"

Hawk Tuah looked up, momentarily startled. "Sorry about that," she called back, raising a hand in apology.

The barkeep grumbled but returned to his work, and Tuah refocused on Borkum. "Tarek is a snake, and he's put a bounty on your head Borkum. We need the resources from the Crypt to deal with him once and for all."

Borkum leaned back, taking a deep swig from his tankard, his mind churning with thoughts of the bounty on his head. "Tuah, what if I just take on Tarek myself?”

Hawk Tuah choked on her beer. Hawk Tuah’s expression turned serious as she leaned in, her voice low and urgent. "Borkum, that’s not a good idea. I thought he was good man.  And, we had a thing for a while. But, then I learned Tarek runs a powerful criminal gang. It’s not just him you’d be up against. He has an entire network of cutthroats, spies, and enforcers at his command. Taking him on alone would be nearly impossible. And no one is going to help you."

Borkum frowned, frustration evident in his eyes.

Tuah nodded, her gaze intense. "I know, Borkum. But we need to be smart about it. Tarek has resources and influence. He probably has spies here in the Mermaids Song right now. That’s how he always seems to know where to find me."

Borkum glanced around the tavern, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. "So, what do we do?"

"I have thought about this a long time," Tuah said firmly. "We break into the Cursed Crypt, get our hands on the treasure, we pay off Tarek, and then from there who knows. You charter your own vessel and go off on an adventures. I buy a castle and move my mother in. We go our separate ways. Who knows?”

Tuah leaned even closer, her voice low and intense. "I've been studying the Crypt's history. The Seraphites who built it were powerful, but they were also arrogant. They left clues and hidden passages for those who knew where to look. There's a secret entrance, one that isn't heavily guarded. If we can find it, we might just have a chance to get in undetected."

Borkum took a long sip from his tankard, his gaze steady on Hawk Tuah. "Alright, Tuah, you’ve convinced me we need to break into the Crypt. But tell me, how do you know for sure it's cursed?."

Hawk Tuah leaned forward, her expression serious. "Borkum, I know it's cursed because I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I have been inside. I have seen the dead rise up."

Borkum raised an eyebrow. "You've been there? Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Tuah sighed, her eyes distant as if recalling a long-forgotten memory. "A few years ago, I joined an crew to explore the Crypt. We were a group of young adventurers, confident in our skills. But nothing could have prepared us for what we found. We were in fact overconfident. "

Borkum leaned in, his interest piqued. "What happened?"

Tuah's voice lowered, tinged with a mixture of fear and sorrow. "We entered the Crypt thinking it was just another ancient tomb. But as soon as we crossed the threshold, we felt it—an oppressive, malevolent presence. The air was thick with dark magic, and the walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own."

She paused, and glanced around, taking a deep breath before continuing. "At first, it was just eerie sounds and shadows that moved on their own. But then, the undead came. Skeletal warriors, ghosts, and worse. They attacked us relentlessly. We fought bravely, but it was as if the Crypt itself was against us."

Borkum’s eyes widened. "And the others? What happened to them?"

Tuah looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. "Most of them didn’t make it out. We lost friends, good people. Those of us who survived were lucky to escape with our lives. And ever since that day, I’ve been determined to go back, not just to reclaim what we lost, but to put an end to the curse once and for all."

Borkum leaned back, processing her words. "You said most did not make it out. So, someone else who was with you got out?”

Tuah nodded firmly. “It was Tarek. Before he formed his gang. That is how I met him.”

Borkum took a long sip from his tankard, his gaze steady on Hawk Tuah. "Alright, Tuah. We've talked about the Crypt, the curse, and the dangers. But there's one thing we haven't addressed—how are we going to pull this off with just the two of us?"

“Borkum, what happens next, just follow my lead.” Hawk Tuah whispered. 

Hawk Tuah’s eyes gleamed with determination as she finally made up her mind. She stood up, clinking her tankard against the table to get everyone’s attention. When that didn’t quite do it, she climbed onto her chair, towering over the crowd. The tavern’s noise gradually died down as curious eyes turned toward her.

"Listen up, everyone!" Hawk Tuah's voice rang out, clear and commanding. "I'm heading into the Cursed Crypt for gold and glory. It's a dangerous quest, but the rewards are beyond imagination. Who among you has the guts to join me?"

A hush fell over the tavern as her words sank in. The mention of the Cursed Crypt sent a ripple of shock and fear through the crowd. Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire.

"The Cursed Crypt? Is she mad?"

"Does she know what she's getting into?"

"Gold and glory, she says. But what about the curse?"

Borkum watched the crowd’s reaction, his eyes scanning for those who might have the courage and skill to join them. The silence stretched; tension thick in the air. He looked up at Hawk Tuah who motioned him to stand.

Borkum got the message.  He stood up and roared, “I Borkum the battler, will join you Hawk Tuah in this quest to the Cursed Crypt.”

For a moment, there was a palpable silence, the tension thick in the air. Then, the entire room burst into laughter.

"Gold and glory, you say? More like madness and mayhem!"

"Good luck coming back with your heads still attached!"

"You two must be out of your minds!"

“Morons!”

“Imbeciles!”

“Simpletons”

“Your dead people walking!” 

The laughter was boisterous, with several patrons slapping their knees or clutching their tankards as they guffawed. Even the barkeep, wiping down the bar, chuckled and shook his head.

Borkum's face flushed, but he held his ground, refusing to be deterred. Hawk Tuah remained stoic, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of genuine interest.

No one raised a hand. No one shouted a word of encouragement. It was just Borkum and Hawk Tuah, standing before the crowd.

Hawk Tuah and Borkum paused for effect and seeing none other than ridicule, they sat back down.  But they were startled and taken back by a third person sitting at their table. 

Sitting comfortably at their table was a Drow elf, his dark skin and white hair stark against the dim lighting of the tavern. He leaned back in the chair, one leg casually crossed over the other, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Borkum stopped short, eyes narrowing. "Who are you, and how did you get here?"

The drow elf smiled, his voice smooth and confident. "The name’s Lykxnzzl. And how did I get here? Let’s just say stealth is one of my many talents."

Hawk Tuah crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. "What did you say your name was?”

The drow smiled and replied, “The name’s Lykxnzzl.”

“Come again,” Hawk Tuah asked.

“The name’s Lykxnzzl.” The drow replied. 

“One more time,” Hawk Tuah asked.

“I said, Lykxnzzl.” The drow said, irritated. 

“I heard you the first time,” Hawk Tuah smiled at her little joke.

Hawk Tuah then crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. "What do you want, Lykxnzzl? This table is for our crew."

Lykxnzzl spread his hands in a gesture of peace. "Precisely why I'm here. I heard your little announcement. Gold and glory, you say? Sounds like my kind of adventure."

Borkum exchanged a hopeful glance with Tuah. "And why should we trust you? Drow aren’t exactly known for their trustworthiness."

Lykxnzzl's smile widened, showing a hint of sharp teeth. "True, my kind do have a certain reputation. But I've been above ground long enough to learn the value of alliances. Besides, I have skills that could be very useful on your little escapade."

Hawk Tuah raised an eyebrow. "Skills like sneaking into a heavily guarded crypt, perhaps?"

Lykxnzzl nodded, his expression turning serious. "Exactly. I'm a master thief, a mover in the shadows, an expert in traps and locks. If you want to get into the Cursed Crypt and survive, you'll need someone like me. A thief. And a good one to boot."

Borkum frowned, considering his words. "And what’s your angle? What do you get out of this?"

Lykxnzzl leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Borkum’s. "The same as you—gold and glory. And perhaps, a chance to prove that not all drow are bound by the darkness of their past. And, there may be some ancient lore in there that my people are willing to pay for."

Hawk Tuah studied Lykxnzzl for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Alright, Lykxnzzl. You’re in. But know this—we watch each other’s backs, no betrayals. You cross us, and you’ll regret it."

Lykxnzzl placed a hand over his heart, bowing his head slightly. "Understood. I’m here to be a part of this team, nothing more. And by the way, here is the silver piece that was in your pocket I lifted earlier. A small example of both my skillset and trustworthiness."

Borkum laughed heartily, extended his hand. "Welcome to the crew, Lykxnzzl. Let’s hope your skills are as good as you say they are."

Lykxnzzl shook Borkum’s hand with a firm grip, his smile returning. "You won’t be disappointed."

Borkum took a long sip from his tankard, setting it down with a determined thud. "Alright, we’ve got a solid start: a druid, a fighter, and a thief. But we're not going into the Cursed Crypt half-cocked. We need to think carefully about who else we need."

Hawk Tuah nodded, her eyes thoughtful. "Agreed. The Crypt is full of dangers we can't even imagine. We need someone who can handle the unexpected—someone with a wide range of skills."

Lykxnzzl leaned back, his fingers idly playing with a coin. "We need a magic user. Someone who can deal with curses, hexes, and magical traps. Not to mention, it wouldn’t hurt to have some offensive spells to back us up when things get hairy."

Borkum scratched his chin. "A magic user, huh? I was thinking the same. But what kind? A wizard, a sorcerer, a warlock?"

Tuah tapped her fingers on the table, considering.

Hawk Tuah, Borkum, and Lykxnzzl were deep in discussion about their next potential recruit, when a small figure approached their table.

A halfling, dressed in your typical halfling outfit wearing a green jacket and a yellow waist coat. His hair was longer than most, and he had a twinkle in his eyes.

The halfling had a determined look in his eye as he walked up, his jacket adorned with various magical trinkets and a small, well-worn spellbook tucked under his arm. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"Excuse me," the halfling began, his voice surprisingly confident for his stature. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. My name is Brindle Lightfoot, and I understand you’re looking for someone of a arcane nature to join your venture into the Cursed Crypt."

Borkum raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Brindle Lightfoot, huh? And what makes you think you're the right fit for this job? You look more like a shopkeeper than a magician."

Brindle smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mix of intelligence and mischief. "I've been studying ancient texts and magical artifacts for most of my life. I've also had my fair share of adventures, facing down dangers that would make even the bravest warrior think twice. My knowledge of curses, hexes, and ancient spells could prove invaluable in a place like the Cursed Crypt."

Hawk Tuah leaned forward, her interest piqued. "You seem confident, Brindle. But confidence alone won't keep us alive. What specific skills can you bring to our team?"

Brindle nodded, understanding the gravity of her question. "I specialize in protective and offensive magic. I can dispel curses, detect magical traps, and provide barriers against dark magic. In addition, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that might come in handy when dealing with the undead."

Lykxnzzl, always one to appreciate cleverness, leaned in with a grin. "Tricks, you say. Care to give us a demonstration?"

With a flourish, Brindle reached into his jacket and pulled out a small crystal. He muttered a few arcane words, and the crystal began to glow with a bright, blue light. He tossed it into the air, where it hovered, casting a protective shield around their table. The ambient noise of the tavern seemed to dim, and they felt a sense of calm and security.

The bar crowd stared in awe at the shield.

"Impressive," Borkum admitted, nodding in approval as he touched the protective shield. Unable to push his hand through it.

Brindle nodded, his expression serious. "I understand. I’ve worked with various adventuring parties before, and I know the importance of teamwork. I’m not just looking for gold and glory—though they are nice bonuses—I’m looking to test my skills against the unknown."

Hawk Tuah exchanged a glance with Borkum and Lykxnzzl. "Alright, Brindle. We’ll give you a chance. But remember, this is a dangerous mission. There’s no room for ego or mistakes."

Brindle grinned, his confidence undeterred. "Understood. You won’t regret having me on your team."

Borkum extended his hand, which Brindle shook firmly. "Welcome to the crew, Brindle Lightfoot. Let’s hope your magic is as good as you say it is."

Bridle replied equally well, “I hope your swordplay is as good as you think it is.”

The three adventurers laughed at Brindles quick wit.

“Then its settled,” Hawk Tuah said, “we drink and eat tonight, and tomorrow we are off for the crypt.”

The barkeep wandered over to the foursome with four tankards of ale, “Here is four tankards for the adventurer’s courtesy of the Mermaids Song. By the way, the boss says since you’re a group of Morons, Imbeciles and the Walking Dead, he is gonna need you to pay in advance from now on. Your credit is cut off.”

The foursome hoisted the tankards and laughed heartily.