In The Cards

Social intricacies can be very tricky, and it is easy to make mistakes that will unintentionally offend somebody. There are a few basic guidelines however. One fairly simple rule is that the undead do not generally fit in at a funeral. It can be very embarrassing if they bypass the funeral feast in favor of the departed guest of honor.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

“Monty, do you think I should get married?”

The question, spoken in a dreamy, even sentimental voice, made Montaron choke on his beer and spit it all over the bar of the Blushing Mermaid, not to mention over a very large and very irritable half-orc sitting next to him. The half-orc, not particularly pleased about this, did his best to take Montaron’s head off with a large double-bladed axe, and he didn’t settle down until the wily halfling stabbed him through the kidney and then proceeded to jump up on the bar and cut his throat. After that, the spilt beer was a minor consideration compared to the spilt blood. Many of the other customers grumbled quite a bit about that.

Montaron sat down heavily on his stool, wiping his sweaty face. “I’m not sure I heard ye correctly, wizard,” he said. “Did ye say ‘married’?”

Xzar nodded happily, a wide grin cleaving his grotesquely tattooed face in two. The wizard was leaning against the bar, sipping a strange green drink that gave off puffs of smoke now and then. It had eyeballs in it. Montaron wasn’t a sensitive or easily offended person, but he didn’t want to know what kind of eyeballs they were, or whom they had previously belonged to, and he had steadfastly declined to taste, claiming that he didn’t like food to stare back at him. Xzar’s thick brown hair was messy as usual, and his eyes glittered with insane energy and dark passions.

“Married?” Montaron repeated in a flat voice. “Not possible. There can’t possibly be any woman in the world crazy enough to fall for ye!”

“Oh Monty, now you’re being mean! Isn’t he mean, Abduh?”

“Urrrrgh,” the zombie agreed. He was sitting on the other side of Xzar, happily slurping embalming fluid from one of those children’s mugs with two ears on. There was a large and empty space of several chairs between him and the next customer.

“See?” Xzar beamed. “Abduh agrees with me. He thinks I will find True Love.”

“Oh sure,” Montaron snorted, shaking his head. “If you want advice on women, who else to turn to but the rotting zombie? What brought this up, anyway?”

It was difficult to tell beneath all the tattoos, but it looked as if Xzar was actually blushing. “Well, I was out talking Abduh for a walk when I heard some people talking about how Entar Silvershield had been gruesomely murdered. Cut to pieces they said, blood all over the place.” He winked. “Did you know that blood can be smelled all over the planes? Above and beyond, and behind and below…especially below. The little man who lives in my sock-drawer told me that.”

Montaron felt as if his head were spinning, a not uncommon sensation when trying to carry on a conversation with Xzar. “Sock-drawer? We’re dangerous mercenaries, living on the road. Ye don’t have a sock-drawer!”

Xzar looked momentarily confused. “Really? I suppose that explains why I never seem to find any clean socks then. Perhaps it was the dragon that told me then. Or the rabbits.” His eyes rolled back into his head. “The rabbits! THE RABBITS! Oh, they are the great deceivers, they are, with their fluffy fur and their evil little twitchy noses, but I know the truth. They will…they call you on the Crystal Ball when you’re having dinner and…and try to interview you about different brands of soap!” He grasped Montaron by the collar and shook the halfling violently enough to make his teeth chatter. “They have their dirty paws into everything! Like high fashion! Did you think it was coincidence that it always looks like it comes from the Lower Planes? It’s all part of the plan.” His voice suddenly calmed down. “Oh, and they want to devour our screaming souls of course. That’s pretty much standard.”

“What,” Montaron said, grinding his teeth, “does this have to do with marriage?”

“Marriage?”

“Urrrrgh?”

“Marriage! Like you said you were thinking about, you daft…”

“There’s no need to shout, Monty, I’m not death.” Xzar drummed his fingers against his glass, and then proceeded to delicately pick up an eyeball and swallow it whole. Even the murderous-looking thugs sitting by the corner table in the shadows winced. “Or deaf, for that matter. Really, you seem very high-strung.”

“I AM NOT HIGH-STRUNG!”

“Urrrgh?”

“No, Abduh, I don’t know why he’s so upset either,” Xzar said. He kindly patted Montaron on the head, causing the halfling to turn purple with rage. “It’s very simple, if you’ll just try to concentrate for once. Duke Entar had a daughter, a girl called Skie. I saw her at the graveyard, giving a speech at her father’s funeral. I was there to try to pick up some…ah…spell components.” He smiled. “Very pretty, and a noble too, just like me. And a lovely voice. So I asked her out.”

Montaron clutched the bar, afraid that he might fall off his stool if he let go. “You…asked a girl out…at her father’s funeral?”

Xzar nodded. “Why, of course! What better time to do so? She could do with some cheering up, I told her.”

“You…you told her…”

The wizard frowned. “Only then she punched me in the face, and Abduh had to give me the kiss of life.”

“Urrrrgh!”

“Yes Abduh,” Xzar said, tossing the zombie an eyeball as it beamed proudly at its master. “You were a very good boy.”

Montaron was making an effort not to be sick. It wasn’t easy. “And…and then what happened?”

“Well, when I woke up the pretty girl was gone.” Xzar sighed. “I suppose she wasn’t interested. She even seemed offended.”

“Offended…”

“It may have had something to do with Abduh trying to open the coffin.”

“Urrrrghh….”

“Yes, I know you were hungry, poor boy. You’d think she could have shared. It’s not as if Duke Entar could use his bones anymore.” Xzar shrugged cheerfully. “Never mind. I’m sure I’ll find the right girl one day. Somebody who is clever…ambitious…ruthless…passionate…”

“Insane…”

“No, no! Creatively thinking! And preferably good with zombies.”

“Urrrrgh!”

“Yes, Abduh. She’d have to get along with you, of course. Daddy wouldn’t leave his good boy behind!” The wizard pinched the zombie’s cheek, smiling a rather silly smile.

Montaron sighed. “Oh, I give up. Speaking of rumors, I heard some news myself. Sarevok is very likely to become the next Grand Duke. The nobles fawn all over him, what with all these rumors about an upcoming war against Amn.”

“Sarevok…Sarevok…who was that again, Monty?”

Montaron very slowly counted to ten. Then he counted to ten again, since the first time wasn’t enough. “Sarevok just happens to be the person we’re supposed to kill for interfering with our superiors’ plans. Big. Tall. Glowing eyes. Booming voice. Spiky armor. Remember?”

“Of course I remember!” Xzar giggled. “Silly Monty, you haven’t forgotten who Sarevok is, have you? Such a nice armor he has…with lots and lots of spikes…mmm…lovely spikes.”

“Urrrrgh!”

“Yes Abduh, I know you want one too. We’ll see what we can do.” Xzar smiled happily. “You know, if I wasn’t a wizard I would be a warrior, and then I’d have an armor just like that. It would be perfect to impale the rabbits on when they come charging up to kill me.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Never mind the armor. We need to figure out a way to kill him, and soon!”

“URRRGGGHHH!”

Xzar shook his head. “No Abduh. I don’t think you engaging him in a wrestling match would be a good idea. I just stitched your arm back on again yesterday, remember?”

“Urrrrgh?” the zombie said, a pleading look on his gray face.

“No Abduh. I don’t think beating him to death with your arm would work either. He has that nifty armor, remember? With the spikes…the lovely spikes…” Then Xzar’s face brightened. “Monty, it’s so simple! As simple as the simple fact that the beams from the passing flying elephants create mysterious geometrical shapes in the fields, whose shapes exactly match those of the height of the Temple of Cyric divided by 147. Perfectly logical.”

“What is?” Montaron sighed. Not for the first time he wished that he’d been teamed up with another member of the Zhentarim. Any other member, really. Even Old Codger, who was both blind and senile, but tended to be happy as long as he was well fed and got to listen in to a torture session now and then.

“Well, we must be very sneaky and tricky, yes? We should get some help.”

Montaron slammed his mug into the bar, feeling highly insulted. “Hey! I happen to be the sneaky and tricky person around here!”

“Urrrgh, urrrgh!”

“What are you snickering about, dead meat?”

“URRRRRRGHHHHH!”

Montaron gasped for air, feebly trying to remove Abduh’s fingers from around his throat as the zombie glared murderously at him.

Xzar looked regretful. “Now you’ve upset him, Monty. Say you’re sorry.”

“Y-yes…*choke*…sorry…*gasp*…very sorry.”

“Urrrrgh.”

“Much better!” Xzar beamed as Montaron dropped to the ground with a loud thump. “All friends again. But as I was saying, you’re really better at the ruthless killing bit, aren’t you, Monty? No, I say we should ask the other one, the tricky redhead.”

“What? Zaerini?”

”Urrrrgh?”

“Oh, she will be here,” Xzar confidently stated. “If Sarevok is here, so will she be. And she’s nice and helpful, I’m sure she’ll help us out if we ask nicely, and then we can all be friends forever and ever!” He smiled cheerfully. “Won’t that be nice?”

“Urrrrgh” Abduh said, looking extremely dejected as he stared into his embalming fluid.

And for once, Montaron was of the exact same opinion as the zombie. ‘Nice’ did not come into it. Besides, what could that girl do that couldn’t be handled by a few good Zhents? Well, a few Zhents. All right, by two Zhents with a very bad track record as far as important missions were concerned, as well as by a pet zombie. Come to think of it, maybe we do need her help.