Mar stared down the approaching beast, no weapon at hand. Maybe he could throw his shirt over its eyes to distract it? No, he had a better idea.

“Jinn.” Mar hissed. Reached for his pocket, but something felt off. “I need your help.” There was no response from the stone. Mar grabbed at his pocket. There was nothing there. He must have lost the warlock’s totem when he was knocked to the ground. That was bad.

The beetle slowly started advancing on Mar, if he was going to make his move it would have to be soon. Mar was just about to remove his tunic when a battle cry rang out nearby. Suddenly, a man in makeshift armor with a fishing spear burst out from around the corner.

The fisherman emerged around the side of the building, and his eyes narrowed with a fierce and burning anger when they lit upon the massive deformed insect.

“That’s it daddy! That’s the monster!” The chubby boy from earlier stood behind the large and muscular fisherman. The father took a moment to steel his nerves and brace his spear, his muscles remembering movements and stances that had been drilled into them a lifetime ago. He charged the overgrown insect, spear extended.

The man’s spear hit the beetle, scoring a deep cash along its chitin exoskeleton, but ultimately doing no lasting damage. The beetle turned and swatted its new assailant with its pincers, but the fisherman was too quick for the beetle and jumped out of the way just in time.

“Goodman Varns’ has got it cornered! This way everybody!” Shouted another townsman. Another dozen locals barreled down the street wielding a motley assortment of fishing implements as weapons. The beetle was distracted by its new attacker and Mar used the opportunity to slip out of danger.

The villagers circled up around the monster, backing it into the same corner where it had nearly trapped Mar. Humans and monsters were at a standoff for several long moments. None of the villagers were brave enough to take the first blow, and the insect instinctively knew that the moment it lurched at one of the gathered humans the others would descend upon it.

Goodman Varns, the same spear-wielding fisherman who had saved Mar, rallied his courage first. He stepped forward and jabbed at the beast with his spear. The scarab saw the blow coming before it landed and opened its pincers, which caught the spear as Goodman Varns thrust it. With a loud cracking sound, the insect snapped the spear in two.

The creature was far from victorious however. Spurred on by Goodman Varns’ act of bravery the other villagers advanced, each eager to strike a blow at the monstrous bug while it’s attention was on the Goodman. Skinning knives and wooden buoys proved to be of little use against the scarab’s hard shell, but one muscular villager stepped forward with a felling axe and swung the tool like he was chopping a log. The axe bit into one of the beetle’s legs with a sickly crack.

The monster let out a vicious hiss. It redoubled its efforts, spinning on its five remaining legs to try and orient its pincers towards the man who had robbed it of one of its limbs. It’s attackers quickly fell back, but Goodman Varns was up again. He took the pointed half of his broken spear and held it in his hands like a sword, wiping it in a slice past the pincers and at the creature’s eyes.

Having distracted the beast again, the Goodman enabled the other townsmen to strike. The man with the axe came forward again, this time taking a swing at the insect’s torso. This blow only made a small crack, but greenish fluid began to trickle out of its body. That’s when the axe man slipped up as one of the insects remaining limbs swept backwards and took his feet out from under him.

The man tried to scramble to his feet, but the bug was on top of him in a heartbeat. In one vicious motion, the creature closed its pincers around the villager’s skull, which exploded with a juicy pop.

The other villagers jumped back in fear, but Goodman Varns reacted with rage. He picked up his fallen friend’s axe and swung it with wild abandon at the beast.

Mar couldn’t just watch this fight go down without helping. While none of the fishermen’s tools besides the axe looked particularly useful, Mar spotted a fishing net that somebody had brought along. He’d seen men at the docks cast a net before. The trick was in spinning it as you threw it so that the weights let the net spread out. Mar ran up as close to the giant insect as he dared and threw the net. Success! It landed square on top of the beetle, tangling its limbs and pincers. The fight quickly started turning in Goodman Varns’ favor as the beetle became unable to fight back.

“This is for Harnold, you filthy abomination! May you and your master go straight to hell!” Goodman Varns raised the axe high over his head, giving a thunderous roar as he leapt through the air and smashed the tool with all his strength right in between the insect’s eyes, splitting its head in two. The bug twitched and spasmed violently before going still.

A cheer let out amongst the villager, many of them clapping their comrade on the arm or shoulder. To congratulate him.

The sound of venting gas filled the air. Everyone turned to the insect’s corpse, where a cloud of multicolored smoke was rising. The insect's body seemed to deflate, like the flesh had started falling apart. A few seconds later it’s cracked and battered exoskeleton clattered to the ground. Out of the bugs now empty carcass a single red stone rolled out. It was the bloodstone Mar had put in the beetle’s mouth back when it had still been normal.

Goodman Varns stooped to the ground to pick it up. By this time several of the sailors from The Hidden Gem had found their way over to this location, trying to see what all the commotion was about, so Mar didn’t look out of place.

“I’ve seen these things before.” Goodman Varns announced in a low voice. “Back during my service in the Estrar Republic. Those damned dark mages sent all kinds of undead and unnatural beasts at us.”

“But you defeated it, Varns! Guess mages aren’t all they’re cracked up to be!” one of the villagers laughed.

“Idiot. See this crystal? This stinks of a dark mage, or more accurately, a chimeromancer. And where there’s a chimeromancer there’s bound to be more creatures like this. We need to search the countryside and route out whoever caused this mess. And we need to lay dear Harnold to rest.”

The mood grew glum as attention was brought back to the dead villager. Somebody threw a piece of sailcloth over the body.

Goodman Varns walked over to what remained of the insect creature. He plucked the net off to get a closer look at the hard pieces of chitin exoskeleton that remained.

“Whoever threw this net had a good idea. I might have been finished if not for the aid.”

The villagers all looked at each other, trying to remember who had done the deed. In the confusion and heat of the moment, nobody remembered.

Mar decided it would be better if he kept quiet. No sense in drawing more attention to himself than needed. That bit about hunting down a warlock had unnerved him a little, and he was glad that he would be leaving at first light, along with the rest of the ship’s crew.

“Mar, my boy, this is where you’ve been! Been looking all over for you I have! We’re supposed to stick together you know. You’d be surprised at the kind of trouble a sailor can get himself into in a single night at port!” It was Thamos.

“Sorry Thamos, but yes, I see what you mean.” He glanced back warily at the scene of the recent showdown.

“Well, come back and join me and the others. You’ve hardly spoken to any of the crew besides me. There’s only a score of us, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t know us all by name.” Thamos took a long slow sip. He was drinking from a tankard rather than a flask, probably having decided that the local brew was good enough to add some variety to his diet. “Let these kind locals finish up whatever it is they’re doing.” Thamos spotted the human shaped figure lying underneath a blanket. “Somebody get to drunk and fall asleep in the streets? Can’t blame him. Done it myself once or twice.”

Mar wasn’t sure if Thamos was really drunk enough to overlook the huge puddle of blood on the ground or if Thamos had some sort of ingrained instinct to ignore any sign of violence as none of his business, but either way the old sailor whistled a merry tune as he strode away.

When they returned to the open-air tavern there were some questions directed towards those sailors who had slipped away about what the bell-ringing and shouting was about. Mar gladly let one of the other sailors describe the body of the huge beetle that the villagers killed, and the last few snippets of the battle that the sailor had managed to catch. He didn’t bother interjecting or correcting.

Mar tried to mingle and socialize but his mind kept going back to what that fisherman, Goodman Varns, had said. They’d be scanning the countryside looking for a warlock and sooner or later somebody would connect the dots and point them to Mar. They might even manage to find the amethyst, or worse, Jinn.

He had to go back and find them. Jinn most importantly but it would be smart to look for the amethyst as well. The bloodstone was now in Goodman Varns’ hands and he was unlikely to find it, which made the amethyst his most valuable remaining crystal to practice magic with, since he was unlikely to come across any at as low prices as the stolen merchandise had been sold for in Yvast.

Above all though he had to go back and look for Jinn. That warlock’s totem was his only source of magical training. The moment that was done he would head back to the ship and sleep in his hammock and by dawn this damp little town would be just a memory. Whether someone figured out who made that monster wouldn’t matter if he was a hundred leagues away.

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“I’ll be right back.” Mar stood up to leave, but Thamos grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Ya’ can’t be done already, lad! You’ve barely gotten started on your drink!”

“Sorry Thamos. I’ve never been much for alcohol.”

Thamos snorted. “Ya’ call this alcohol lad? This is flavored water, I tell ya’. If ya’ need to piss the locals dug a nice fresh ditch for us within’ spitting distance over yonder.” Thamos gestured off just behind a nearby ledge.

Mar sat back down. Thamos seemed determined to stick by his side. He probably felt responsible for the inexperienced young sailor assigned to him. As touching as it was, Mar needed to go back and look for Jinn, and he wouldn’t be able to do that with Thamos clinging to him. He needed to give the old sailor the slip.

Mar had noticed that Thamos did tend to fall asleep a lot, especially after drinking heavy and getting some exercise. Maybe he could tire the old man out.

“Alright. I suppose I could spend some quality time with the rest of the crew…” Mar said hesitantly.

Thamos clapped him on the back and stood up off the bench they were sitting on, grabbing Mar’s arm to haul him closer to the fire with the rest of the sailors.

There was much hollering, swearing, and swaggering. It was all pretty much what he’d seen sailors do in the tavern at Yvast.

“I swear, her tits were the size of watermelons!” Said Hans to Porky.

“Bunk I say to that. A girly with tits that big would fall right over on her face any time she tried to stand up.” Porky replied.

“Hey fellas.” Hans waved his hands around to the other sailors. “Ya’ know I ain’t a liar. Thamos, you’ve been with the ship longer than any of us. You musta’ been there when we took port in Barsova. Remember those tavern wenches?” Hans said with a leery grin.

Thamos shrugged. “At my age a bottle of rum warms my bed better than a woman. Was probably out cold by then.”

“You know, that’s what this place is really lackin’. Good tavern wenches.” Porky remarked.

“I know what you mean, Porky.” Hans nodded drunkenly. “I know what you mean. But say, lookie at that one there. She ain’t half bad.” Hans gestured towards one of the local girls, who was busy putting out another set of freshly poured mugs from the barrel of local ale that they were currently drinking. She looked up as Hans gestured towards her.

“She’s passed this way ‘least a dozen times now. And she’s looked at me nigh each time.” Hans winked. “I think she likes me. Maybe I should go try my luck?” Hans slurred as he tried to stand up, but Porky put a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s the liquor talkin’, Hans. Ya’ know the captain’s orders about harassin’ the locals.” Porky pulled Hans back into his seat.

“Aww, bugger the captain. Where is he anyhow? Why ain’t he drinkin’ with his crew?” Interrupted one of the newer sailors.

“That’s mutineers talk, Boris.” Hans interrupted. “The captain’s hard at work, gettin’ us a good price on fermented fish and whatnot.”

“Fermented crab.” Thamos interrupted. “Fermented fish is what you’re drinkin’.”

Several of the sailors looked at their tankards with bug-eyed expressions. Thamos burst out laughing.

“Ha! Got ya there! Goes to show you young lads are all about drinkin’ and not about tastin’! No, this brew is still made with barley and hops. Only a tiny bit of fish. For flavor and whatnot.”

The surrounding sailors breathed a sigh of relief and took another sip of their drinks.

“Ha, almost had be for a second there, Thamos.” Porky remarked. “But I know my drink well enough to know when you’re screwin’ around. Still, if there’s one man who can drink nearly as much as me, it’s you.”

“Nearly? Lad, I’ve drunk entire larders dry on more than one trip. Twas what got me kicked off the first three ships I sailed on.”

Hans rolled his eyes. “And ever since ya’ started bringing your own larder with ya’?”

“Darn right.” Thamos remarked as he took another sip.

Mar had mostly sat quiet, watching and observing, but he sense an opportunity here.

“But that still doesn’t answer the question. Who on the Hidden Gem can drink the most?” Mar said in questioning voice.

Thamos turned glared at Mar with one eye. “Lad, you don’t want to go that route. Last ti—”

“Come now, old man. The kid asked a solid question. Maybe we should have ourselves a little contest?” Porky grinned.

Thamos held up a hand. “I prefer to take my drink slow, over the course of a whole night. Drinkin’ it all at once just spoils the fun.”

“Aww, Thamos. The captain’s payin’ for all this. You might as well drink up.” Hans said.

Thamos turned his glare to Hans. “Captin Rollie isn’t payin’ for this. It’s commin’ out of all our shares. A cut from the final profits, same as always.”

Hans waved a hand, dismissing Thamos’s statement as minor details. “Same thing. He’s got the biggest share, so he’s payin’ the most for it.”

“Yeah, what's the captain need all that coin for anyhow? He never drinks or whores or anythin’.” Said Boris.

Porky leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “I hear he likes to visit that place in the mountains, off to the west. The Dark Tower they call it. Spooky.”

“Wasn’t that place that was filled with goblins and orcs and whatnot? And somethin’ about an evil sorcerer?” Hans asked.

Porky nodded. “It was. ‘Till a couple years ago when seven brave heroes, plus some kid, stormed the tower and killed the Overlord. The minions scattered and the tower crumbled, but word is that it’s being rebuilt.”

“Bah. Just a made up story that keeps foreigners away while the locals loot it dry. I heard it was filled to the brim with riches back in the day.” Thamos stated with a wave of his tankard. “It’s what I’d do if I had a freshly vacated castle nearby. Even after lootin’ all the coin and magical artifacts there’s still valuable stuff in a castle. Hells, even the stones can be sold if they’re cut well and ya’ can move ‘em.”

Porky shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve been hearin’ a lot about rovin’ bands of goblins all headed in the same direction. Maybe the Dark Tower’s got a new Overlord.”

“And what? Ya’ think the captains bankrolling an evil army?” Thamos laughed. “We make good coin, but not that much coin.”

As much as Mar despised shallow conversations, he needed to find a way to turn the conversation back towards drinking. He stood up and walked over to the two barrels of alcohol, against which one of the local girls was leaning. The brewer's daughter probably. She was pouring out the alcohol for everyone, keeping careful eyes on how much the crew drank, counting coins in her head.

“Hello there.” Mar said to her.

The girl rolled her eyes. “Not interested. Too small for me.”

“What?” Mar asked in confusion. The village girl glanced up and down Mar’s admittedly shorter than average frame. Her eyes lingered on his trousers for a second, eyebrows raised.

“Oh.” Mar understood what she meant. “No, I’m not propositioning you. I need a favor.”

The girl crossed her arms. “That sounds an awful lot like a proposition from where I’m standing.”

Mar smiled disarmingly. “Not that kind of proposition.” Mar pulled out three silver denarii. The girl's eyebrows rose further.

“I’ll have you know I’m not that ki-”

Mar interrupted her with a wave of his hands. “I want you to replace my drinks with water from here on out.”

It was the girls turn to be confused. Mar realized he’d need to weave a bit of a story.

“It’s an embarrassing tale really.” Mar shook his head sadly. “Last time we were in port I drank with the crew, but I was feeling a bit sick so I ended up collapsing after just one drink. Since then I’ve gotten lots of laughable nicknames like feather-guts and little-princess. The only way I’ll ever live it down is if I drink those three under the table tonight.”

“Ahh.” The girl relaxed. “I can do that. Pure water won’t work though. You won’t have any head to it. I can think of a way to pull off what you’re thinking of… but it’s more than a bit of extra work on my part. Plus my pa’ will kill me if he finds out I watered down his booze.”

Mar held up the three silver denarii.

The girl reclined against the barrels. “Don’t know. Still feeling kind of lazy tonight.”

Mar sighed and pulled out two more silver denarii. There went his thoughts of buying more crystals.

The girl quickly snatched up the offered coins. She walked a few paces away, only to return with a large bucket. “Freshly boiled water, so you don’t get the runs.” She grabbed Mar’s tankard, pouring out most of the liquid into a fresh cup without spilling a drop. Then she added water, bringing the freshly poured tankard up most of the way. Then she poured a splash of fresh beer into another cup from the barrel in such a way that it foamed vigorously, which she then scraped off and stuck on top of Mar’s drink. “You just get your friends drinkin’. I’ll do the rest.” She said with a wink.

Mar picked up his drink and wandered back over to Thamos and the others. They were still talking about Gavica and goblin Overlords and whatnot. He took a long slow sip from his tankard.

“How much of this stuff do you think it takes to get drunk?” Mar asked the assembled group of sailors.

Porky glanced at Mar with a grin. “That’s the spirit, kid. If you’re a sober sailor at port you’re doin’ the job wrong.”

“For a lightweight like you?” Boris commented. “I’d say two tankards. Me? I could drink this stuff all night and not feel a thing.”

Mar took another sip from his cup. “Is that a challenge?” He asked, intentionally slurring his words a little, as if the alcohol was starting to affect him.

“Baha! Looks like the kid really wants to start a drinking competition. Well I’ll play.” Hans smiled as he picked up his tankard.

Thamos mumbled something about a waste of good ale, but he smiled slightly anyway.

“Fine. I suppose I might as well drink the kid into the ground. Let’s do this.” Porky announced. He waved over to the village girl, who poured out sixteen tankards of ale and placed them on the large stump that was serving as the group’s table.

“Alright, so four each?”

Thamos waved his hand. “You young ‘uns can drink yourselves into the dirt if you want. I’ll take my time, thanks.”

“Aw, come on Thamos. I thought we were finally gunna put your stomach to the test and see if you really can drink as much as ya’ say ya’ can.” Porky taunted.

Thamos started waving his hand to refuse again, but Mar gave him a disappointed look.

Finally Thamos relented. “Alright. Suppose I’ve got a title to uphold. I’ll have ya’ know I’m already four drinks in though, not countin’ what I had on the ship.”

There were laughs all around the table. Hans lead the countdown, when they reached zero, everyone lifted their tankards high and began to drink. Mar gulped his cup of mostly-water as quickly as the rest of them, immediately starting on his next drink.

Second drinks were gulped down as fast as the first, but by the third one everyone except Mar had started slowing down.

“Pace yourself lad, you’ll poison yourself.” Hans said cautiously.

“Hans is right. I’ve seen bigger boys than you fall keel over because they were tryin’ to impress their friends in a tavern.”

Thamos glanced at Mar once, but quickly turned his attention to Mar’s cup, which he gave a hard stare.

Mar put down his tankard. “I’ll be fine.” He said with a challenging grin.