Discretion is the better part of valor, as they say. I would like to thank everyone that participated in the votation, taking place in the last chapter! Your votes have now affected what direction the story has taken. Wesley and his friends have decided, to leave the mysterious undead alone, and escape Jibanon once and for all. Will it work out as planned? What will they do, if they somehow do manage to escape? All will revealed in Chapter 49, of "Medieval Cohesion". Hope you enjoy! I will look forward to hear your opinions :3

---

Chapter 49 - The Drunken Seahorse

Time was running out for us all, and our escape had already been greatly delayed, by this unexpected turn of event. So we had to make up our minds, and force ourselves to decide the next move quickly. Despite that the walking corpse of Duke Harlow expressed no hostility towards us, it felt wrong to just let him and the other undead menaces go. But taken into consideration how battered we all were, our chances of defeating them were dangerously low. It would serve us no purpose to be destroyed here, especially not in a battle that could easily have been avoided. From what we could hear, Duke Harlow and Duchess Miranda were now united with the other family members, that had risen from their graves. They were all descending the staircase slowly, approaching the crypt's exit, and would most likely merge with a horde of undead gathering at the cemetery. Necromantic powers were clearly in motion, and I couldn't see any reason, why the graves outside the crypt wouldn't be affected by it. The unholy moans of the walking dead, echoed throughout the dark catacombs, but occasionally faded away as they stepped out of the crypt. There was inevitably going to be a massive battle in the town of Jibanon, and after the chaos that our escape had caused, the town was left in a pretty vulnerable state. I couldn't help it but to relate this situation with the destruction of Paravil, as the unexpected attack from the cemetery seemed painfully familiar. But to name a significant difference, I couldn't think of any person in the town of Jibanon that I'd risk my life for, besides our allies trapped in the prison. Unfortunately, with the way that things had turned out, we were short on options. So our best choice were to mind our own escape, and pray that our allies would somehow survive.

Once the undead had entered the cemetery above, leaving us alone in the dark crypt, we decided to make use of the alternative exit ourselves. Despite my lack of faith, in this curved blade called a "Shamshir", I chose to bring it with me. Because in my current state of injury, it would be foolhardy to invite trouble while being unarmed. Raksasha apparently didn't find anything of use in the hideout. But then again, it'd be unrealistic to think that she would find anything here, that could match her formidable axe of the southern deserts. Besides restocking his supply of throwing knives, in case if he'll need to rely on ranged attacks again in the future, Gary didn't take anything else either. There was no further time to waste. We left the hideout immediately, following Gary through a narrow corridor, connected with the secret chamber. The torch that he carried would not stay lit for much longer, but it still radiated a weak light to lead our way through the catacombs. By the end of the corridor, we located an old and frail wooden ladder, that seemingly lead up to a closed trapdoor. Could this be the alternate exit that we were looking for? With no hesitation, Gary leapt onto the ladder and descended it towards the top. But once he attempted to open the trapdoor, it seemed to be locked. It wouldn't budge at all. No, it wasn't locked. Something was blocking it from the other side. And Gary found it difficult to put his full strength into opening the trapdoor, when he also had to focus on not losing his grip on the ladder. When he pushed against the trapdoor, it was only possible for him to make a small opening, for him to look outside.

Gary: Bah! The trapdoor has gotten entangled in the weeds above. Raksasha, get up here. I need a little support to handle this.
Raksasha: Are you sure that ladder can carry my weight?
Gary: There is only one way to find out.

Raksasha clearly didn't feel secure with descending this ladder, but she eventually grabbed onto it, and climbed carefully up to Gary. I remained at the bottom for now, just watching how they intended to deal with this issue. Once she was right below him, Gary placed his feet on Raksasha's broad shoulders for support, so that he could use both hands to force the trapdoor open. I took a step back, as he now pushed against the trapdoor with all his strength, causing lumps of soil to drop down into the corridor. The trapdoor was slowly forced open, and I could hear the sound of the weeds snapping, finally giving up on blocking our only exit. Gary's unimpressive biceps throbbed as he pushed them to their limits. The old man released a groan of relief, as the trapdoor finally swung open, allowing the rain to fall into the catacombs. After having regained his breath, he descended the ladder even further, and disappeared through the opening above. I could see the dark sky from below, despite that Raksasha was blocking most of the view. She followed Gary once he was out, leaving only me behind in the creepy crypt. The weight of my armor made me hesitate for a moment. But I was convinced, that if the ladder could endure the weight of Raksasha, then it should be able to handle me too. I grabbed cautiously onto the wooden ladder, and descended it slowly. The ladder released a disturbing creaking noise, warning me against not lingering for too long on the fragile steps. I had to hurry for more reasons than one, as the steps were also becoming increasingly slippery, because of the rainwater pouring down. Even without the knife stuck in my chest, it still send sparks of pain through my torso, whenever I performed certain motions. But I couldn't let that slow me down. Even though I wasn't sure where we would appear upon the surface, I could sense that we were only seconds away, from our highly desired freedom.

Oh bliss, what a pleasure to once again fill my lungs with fresh air. Having left the underground catacombs through the trapdoor, we were now located in a mildly lush area, by the outskirts of Jibanon. And just like I had hoped, we had appeared on the other side of the city walls, embracing newfound hope as fugitives. From our hide in the shadows, we could hear the noise of commotion, taking place inside the town. People were shouting and screaming, but it was impossible to make out the words. Perhaps the walking corpses were already going on the rampage, bringing death and destruction to the citizens of Jibanon. Or maybe they were still searching actively for us, without knowing that we had already escaped. No one were standing guard in the watch towers. It was almost too easy from here. But once we had regrouped, we seized the opportunity to flee. We ran as fast as our weary legs could carry us, without stopping to look back. Despite that everyone was occupied inside the city, my paranoia made me expect to hear the whistling of arrows, approaching any moment at high speed. But it never happened. The three of us faded away in the shadows of night, with no one available to stand in our way. No matter what fate awaited our trapped allies, we realized that our best option at hand, would be to continue our quest alone. Their skills and unique capabilities would certainly be missed, in the many battles that awaited us. But even if the worst thinkable happened, they wouldn't want to see the world be torn apart, by Lord Zervas and his repulsive legion of undead. Despite of everything, I did not see this as the end of our fellowship. Even during the darkest hour, you must keep faith in hope. Deep in my heart, I kept hoping that we would one day meet our lost comrades again. In this life... or the next.

Hours passed by, and the darkness was penetrated by the first beam of sunlight. It was dawn. We found ourselves walking along the sandy beach, located by the western coast, just listening to the waves of the ocean. The call of seagulls could be heard in the distance, and the waves occasionally invaded the shores, forcing my metallic greaves under water for a brief moment. Every footstep felt heavy and fatiguing. We were all exhausted, hungry and tired. The challenging ordeals from last night, had drained us for all our energy. Even after having escaped from Jibanon, Raksasha and I were still following Gary. But at the moment, it felt like we were just walking in the middle of nowhere, with no place to go. Our escape was a success. But now what? The shipyard is destroyed, every ship is burned to the ground and we’re declared enemies of Jibanon. With no way to cross the sea, we’ll never even get close to the sacred blade, blessed with holy powers that can vanquish the lich king for good. The glorious beach of the western coast, was a magnificent view to behold. But I could feel that the monotonous terrain, and the fact that absolutely nothing was going on, left me with too much time to think. Analyzing our current situation, made me develop useless pessimism that almost turned me into a hypocrite, regarding my statement about keeping faith in hope. Despite being tired and quiet like the rest of us, Gary didn’t seem like he was lost, or just walking aimlessly. So I decided to remain silent and patient, at least for a little while longer, to see what would happen.

Raksasha seemed to be the one least affected by fatigue. The wounds and bruises around her body was bound to be painful, but none of her injuries were fatal enough to slow her down. She just made sure to remain behind Gary, adjusting herself to my pace, while having her gigantic axe rest on her broad shoulders. That woman could probably keep walking until next nightfall. But then again, she was used to enduring long treks through the scorching deserts. Her skin was clearly resistant to heat, and I doubt anyone living outside the southern deserts could match her stamina. My sight had lowered, for the time being, while I kept grinding my sore muscles to push forward. As an attempt to distract my restless mind, I had my eyes explore the sandy beach, finding many cracked seashells and occasionally a dead crab that had washed ashore. My greaves got entangled in wet seaweed. They claim that some of the adventurers, that once traveled across the western coast, have discovered valuable lumps of amber hidden in the sand. But even after having been here for hours, all I've been able to find was common rocks, that sometimes had an alluring color similar to amber. Once I raised my sight again, it suddenly caught my attention that something new was appearing by the horizon, still far ahead of us. It seemed like the peak of a tall cliff, which was clearly going to stand in our way later. Was Gary bringing us directly into a dead end? No, there was something else too. When we came closer, I noticed a strange structure standing by the foot of the cliff. A lonesome building, close to the beach, in the middle of nowhere. By this moment, I was almost convinced that it was some sort of mirage, generated from a small spark of insanity. But no, it was not my mind playing tricks on me.

Later the same day, we stopped by the building, and examined it closely. A large sign was located above the open door, and according to the highlighted letters written upon it, the place was called "The Drunken Seahorse". It was apparently some sort of tavern, but what a weird location to open business for a public place. A large poster located on the wall, at the left side of the open entrance, encouraged people to try out their delicate meal of roast octopus. Their fried herring had apparently also received plenty of positive recommendations. I've never been too excited about eating seafood, but after having been starving for more than a whole day, I felt ready to offer my taste buds a challenge. Just as expected, Gary turned and passed right through the tavern's front door, making it perfectly clear that he had been here before. Being placed in such a remote location, you would obviously only visit this tavern, if you knew of it's existence. Raksasha and I followed him eagerly. Once we entered the tavern's front door, a strong scent of seafood and ale filled our nostrils. It was a rather small and quiet place. Only few customers were present, all seeming like experienced sailors, fresh from the sea. A young and stunningly gorgeous maiden was carrying a tray, delivering fresh drinks to the customers and removing the empty mugs. I suspected that this place could provide us with more, than just a hot meal to satisfy our hunger, and a pint of ale to flush it down. My stomach was growling.

Behind the counter inside the tavern, we noticed a somewhat chubby and unappealing man. It was the bartender, a man being so hilariously short, that he'd almost need to stand on a crate to serve his customers. From the look in his eyes, I suspected that he was slightly tipsy, from the bottle of rum that he took a swig of every now and then. What was left of his hair, seemed to be pretty greasy and unkempt. The small beard covering his chin, was soaked by the liquid he drank, after having carelessly chucked it down. And what I thought to be a nasty stain of sweat on his shirt, right below his plump neck, turned out to be rum that failed to find it's way into his maw. I found myself hoping in silence, that he wasn't in charge of cooking the food around here. Otherwise, there could've been more than one explanation, to the lack of customers. While examining the bartender, I suddenly heard a door open at the second floor. Heavy footsteps moved across the floor above, before proceeding down the wooden staircase close by. Could it be a customer? I found myself staring rudely, as the man arrived on the first floor. It was an old rat, wearing a thick coat with buttoned sleeves, and black polished boots. A sharp and slightly jagged cutlass, was tucked into the leather belt worn on his waist. He wore a tattered tricorn hat, from which his long and untamed hair sprouted down the back of his head. A thick and bushy moustache was found beneath his snout. The man left the staircase and moved towards the exit. Once he came close enough for me to examine him properly, it suddenly became clear to me that his one eye was missing. There was nothing but an empty hole, where his eye used to be. No matter what robbed him of his left eyeball, he didn’t even bother to cover it up with an eye patch. A large and fluffy feather was stuck in his hat, clearly just for decoration. He was clearly a man of the sea. The man stopped right next to me, turned his head, and examined me silently with the one eye he had left. His thin and furless tail swept across the floor behind him. After a few seconds, I felt uncomfortable with the way he looked at me.

Wesley: Can I help you with something?
??? : ...
Wesley: ...
??? : ...Nice armor.

Leaving me no chance to reply, the strange man walked past me and stepped outside. I just rolled my eyes and shrugged. The following moment, I heard the voice of Gary in the other end of the tavern. He had apparently stepped up, to confront the somewhat unhygienic bartender.

Bartender: What can I get ye, old geezer?
Gary: A more polite reception would be appreciated, Marcus.
Marcus: I don't know what backstabbing moron, that has leaked out my name this time. But I hope for your sake, that you haven't come here to cause trouble. Tell me, old man, who do you think you are?
Gary: A man that you owe a favor. Take a closer look, and I am certain that the memories will come back to you.
Marcus: Hmm...That face. You are... N-no way! Jenkins!
Gary: Gary Jenkins, yes. Long time no see.
Marcus: It's been ages. I'm glad to see that you're still alive and well! So tell me, amigo, what brings you to this dark part of the region?
Gary: It's a long story. My friends and I are looking for a place to stay, however, at least until nightfall. We're also quite fatigued by hunger...
Marcus: Say no more, matey. I’ll have a room prepared for you within an hour. You are in luck! The captain just left and went back to his ship. So you are free to take over the room that he occupied. I’ll even have the cook prepare an outstanding meal, just for you, free of charge.
Gary: Your hospitality and generosity is welcomed with great gratitude, Marcus. But did I just hear you mention a ship?
Marcus: Aye! This tavern is frequently visited by sailors, who are too notorious by reputation, to access Jibanon’s shipyard. The captain mentioned, that he will be sailing out by the break of next dawn.
Gary: Interesting. I may have a matter to discuss, with this particular captain. Do you know where I can find him?
Marcus: You’ll find his ship moored by the shore, if you cross the cliffs through the grotto to the southeast.

Having eavesdropped on the conversation for a while, I decided to finally approach the counter myself, just to confirm that we've come as a group. Once Raksasha noticed this, she did the same, making the floor creak with her heavy footsteps. The bartender's eyes focused nervously on the large woman, before directing his attention towards me. We placed ourselves close to Gary, both of us towering above the elderly lynx.

Marcus: Now that's what I call a large gal...
Gary: These are the comrades that I travel with. The armored young man to my right side, is Wesley Lightweaver. And this female warrior from the southern deserts, is called Raksasha.
Raksasha: Raksasha Arajah. Pleased to meet you, little man.
Wesley: Well met, Sir.
Marcus: Right... One thing has definitely remained unchanged, Gary. You still associate with the most bizarre individuals. But be that as it may. Take a seat and have a drink. I’ll have your room fixed shortly.
Gary: Thank you, Marcus.

Following his advice, the three of us went for the closest unoccupied table, placed by the window to the west. Gary and I sat down next to eachother. Raksasha chose to sit alone on the other side of the table, not to be unsocial, but because she needed the additional space. We barely managed to open a conversation, before our table was visited by the beautiful maiden, that I noticed earlier. She was wearing a fancy dress, with her long and smooth hair hanging down to her shoulders, clearly wanting to make a good impression on the customers. And she was followed by the most delightful scent of jasmine. Upon the tray she carried, there were three mugs filled to the brim with foamy ale. She was a stunning cheetah, possibly the most magnificent feline that I have ever laid eyes on, and her spotted tail had a small decorated bow on it. But once she bended down to hand us the mugs, it suddenly became clear to me, that the top of her dress was awfully low cut. My eyes grew wide and I moved slightly away from her, until my back pressed against Gary. Her round breasts were partly visible, and I found myself gazing directly at her exposed cleavage. My reaction embarrassed me, as it must’ve seemed like I had never seen a woman before. Despite having bumped into Gary, he chuckled at my silliness, before taking a big swig of ale from his mug. Thankfully, the maiden seemed to be too occupied, to realize my reaction herself. Once she left our table, my attention was directed towards Raksasha, who was carefully examining the mug of ale she was offered. It brought back memories, of how our tribal friends reacted, during their first encounter with alcohol. She raised the mug to her nose, sniffed gently, inhaling the intoxicating scent. I kept watching, until she found the courage to take a sip of the mug. The taste seemed to please her. A few minutes after having left the counter, we heard the sound of Marcus walking up the staircase, to access the second floor. He was going to fix our room. It’s been a while, since I’ve spend the night in a decent bed.