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stare, disinterested.
    Able bowed his head. A tear found its way down his bristling cheek. “Forgive me my weakness,” he begged and shifted his grip on the hammer to destroy the zombie with two powerful blows. If he couldn’t put it to rest with the power of his faith, at least he could do it with the power of his good right arm. He tossed the body into the river and snuck back to the ship.

    Laskar Nesher, Noph’s father, had warned his son about Skullport, mostly to scare him into minding when he was a child, but Noph had never believed the stories—until now. “It stands to reason,” he thought bitterly, “that my father would know about a place like this.” As he and Harloon made their way along the docks, they passed a long bank of caged monsters. Many thrust their talons toward the humans, yet their screams were inaudible, blocked by some evil wizard’s spell to silence their pain and fury. Most of them possessed the bulbous eyes or pale coloring of Underdark dwellers.
    These are probably on their way to the surface, to be harvested for spell components,” said Harloon with distaste. “We should destroy them all right here, so nobody suffers!”
    “That won’t help a zombie, Harl,” said Noph. “The skull in the water said to help a zombie, and Aleena told us to keep out of trouble!”
    “All right, all right! Let’s check out that tavern over there.”
    The two young men crossed the boardwalk to a sagging, flat-topped building lit by a magical torch on each side of its thick, iron-shod door. Harloon grasped a fat metal ring, bolted to the door and pulled on it, releasing a puff of smoke and the heavy beat of dwarven music from within. As they peeked inside, they gulped at the sight of ores, giants, and men carousing together, drinking from great ceramic flagons, and ogling scantily clad dancing slaves. Zombie waiters cleaned tables and brought drinks.
    “Let’s go find another zombie,” said Harloon, shocked by the lurid atmosphere.
    “No, this is perfect!” answered Noph, grabbing Harloon’s breastplate without taking his eyes from the festivities. “We’ll clean a few tables for the zombie servers and be gone in, say, five minutes—maybe ten.”
    “Noph, you’re supposed to be following my lead.”
    “Look, Harl. Clearing a few tables doesn’t get much safer. This time, you follow me.”
    “Well… okay. Let’s just get this done with, shall we?”
    They entered the tavern and blended with the crowd. The music pounded in a deafening beat, so Noph simply pointed at the nearest zombie, obliviously clearing a table. Harloon nodded. They each snatched a dirty rag out of the apron off of passing zombie and started wiping down the tables around them.
    “Hey now, I never asked to have my table washed,” a huge goblin complained, glaring up at Noph.
    “Management’s policy, great noble. And today you win a drink on the house. Enjoy!” Noph dropped a silver piece on the table, and the goblin showed a toothy grin. That would buy it several ales.
    A dancer leaped from the bar to a table that Harloon was clearing and leered down at him as she swayed seductively. He stumbled away, modestly dropping his eyes, and backed into a table flanked by duergar, knocking over their ales. They leaped to their feet to avoid being soaked by the beer and then closed around the young fighter with furious snarls on their lips. Duergar at nearby tables spotted the commotion and rose to join their kin, surrounding Harloon. Their poisonous pikes gleamed in the candle light as they drew near to the human’s face. Other creatures noted the rising tension and backed off, looking forward to the show. Seven duergar against one human—the fight wouldn’t last long.
    Suddenly, a fat purse hit the floor next to the duergar, spilling its coins amidst their feet.
    “Hey, that’s my money!” cried Noph in a high-pitched voice and the room erupted into chaos as the surrounding drinkers dove for the gold. Harloon shoved