"A zombie," Guybrush corrected as he fumbled with a bottle of soap. "He was also my nemesis, so I didn't think about the whole him-being-a-zombie too much... until I tore his arm off with a voodoo doll I'd made. That was more horrific than I thought it'd be."

As fantastic as his stories sometimes were, Guybrush was all-too aware of just how they sounded at times to the more average denizens of Landel's: too bizarre to be true. Not everyone had faced the perils commonly seen in the adventure genre, and while a good yarn every now and then added spice to life, it didn't help his credibility in a place where he apparently needed a certain degree of it.

So far, it looked like Mike was meeting him at least halfway on the subject. That was encouraging. "But you're a ninja, so you've probably had some incredible fights yourself that you could tell me about. Either that, or you're just really unlucky and should probably stay away from sharp objects."