Venita Hascavir was taking leisurely carriage ride down to the jewelry district in the heart of the Smitehammer section of the Shattered Sky. She had a meeting with an up and coming jeweler. Several weeks ago she placed an order for a fine pair of earrings she intended to gift to her mother, Atlanta the current head of house Hascavir.

At that time, the buzz about this jeweler was circulating through noble circles. The jewelry created was unique and vibrant. The gems were so well cut and had such seamless clarity it made their competition look like level two crafters. It also didn’t hurt that they sold for very competitive prices. Venita managed to negotiate a contract with them, to be the sole supplier of jewelry to house Hascavir. If anyone else wanted to purchase, they had to go through their house brokers for a considerable mark up. Today was the day Venita was to meet with the fabulous crafter behind all the best jewels in town. She wore her yellow and pink patterned dress and braided two lengths of her hair behind her head. Her attendants were late cinching up her gown, but they would be punished later. She had no time for it today. Finally, they arrived at the store front. Two house guards stood on either side of the entryway into the shop. When Venita excited the carriage, they clapped a fist to their chests in recognition.

“Well done. See that I’m not disturbed during this meeting,” Venita commanded as she strode through the double doors.

Inside the jewelry shop were magically sealed display cases supplied by the mages of house Hascavir. At least two rows of them. The windows that looked out onto the busy road were enchanted to be as strong as granite. At the front counter was a plain looking Deep Dweller female dressed in a pink satin gown.

“No time for pleasantries. I’m here to meet finally meet the master crafter. It’s high time we had a chat about my mothers gift,” Venita announced as she lifted the countertop separating the storefront from the employees area.

The counter girl hopped to her feet and ushered Venita to a backroom where several Deep Dweller jewelers who wore fine rings with exquisitely cut stones were honing their crafts on their latest projects. Some were working on necklaces while others were working on tiaras. None were working on earrings. That was Venita’s purpose for coming here. She scowled around the busy workshop until she noticed the counter girl waiving her to another door.

Venita immediately dismissed her presence upon reaching the workshop. Assuming the master maker would be around to greet her. She’d spent all that time and coin courting their representative, you’d think they would have rolled out the red carpet for her. These thoughts angered her and began to bubble below the surface of her careless outward appearance.

“Through this way my lady,” said the young lady from the store front. Then she closed the door behind Venita from the outside.

The room was only lit by candlelight. There were two other presences in the room besides Venita. The one sat behind the desk Venita recognized as the representative she’d made the deal with. The other stood behind the seated Deep Dweller shrouded in robes and holding a small box.

“Please have a seat,” pleaded the representative. He had hair combed over the top of an extremely bald head. On his face he wore a set of spectacles that had variance lenses at different magnifications. He wore the new style of clothing made popular by a hero from Iron Mountain Plateau, a tight vest over a collared shirt.

“I presume those are the earrings I ordered for mother. Let’s see, give them here,” Venita demanded without sitting in the proffered seat.

The figure in robes who was wide at the shoulders but walked with a feminine gait moved toward Venita with the box outstretched in her right palm. The palm was unusually hairy even for Deep Dwellers, but Venita brushed that fact off as she reached eagerly for the offered jewelry box.

Upon opening the box Venita laid eyes on a fabulous pair of ruby earrings. The cut was perfect, and the clarity was unmatched by anything in Venita’s collection. Even the silver facets were engraved with intricate lines that wove around the dangling masterpiece. She must have these. Forget giving them to her mother. She’d buy something from the display case out front for her.

“Are they to the ladies liking?” asked the figure in the robes.

That’s when Venita remembered to school her facial expressions. She snapped from joy and awe to indifference in short order. Closing the lid on the box and placing it her bag in one swift motion.

“They are… satisfactory,” Venita stammered out.

“Good. I also made this ring for you at the same time. Free of charge,” the figure in robes produced a ring box from her pocket and began to hand it to Venita who quickly snatched it from her grasp.

Venita opened the box to find a center cut ruby that seamlessly attached to the small loop of platinum that held it all together. It seemed almost magical in it’s construction. She immediately put it on her left ring finger before feeling a sharp prick. Venita frowned. Her right hand came up to remove the ring readying herself for a scathing tirade about shoddy craftsmanship when her right hand stopped in motion. Her head snapped up to look at the robed jeweler as she walked back behind the desk.

“Now you will give those earrings to your mother and see to it she puts them on immediately. Am I understood?” commanded the robbed figure taking her hood down and revealing a sneering Mulvarian woman.

“Yes, High Priestess Ruby,” replied Venita.

“Now go,” said Elder Ruby waiving Venita Hascavir out the door.

“My master will be quite pleased with this turn of events. Your mind control abilities are very potent considering she wore the ring for the barest of seconds,” replied the representative.

“I’ve had time to hone my craft since the fall of my civilization. Tell your master to prepare his Goblin horde. The seat of the Deep Dweller’s shall fall and then the empires naval fleet will have a foothold on the east. This war is over, and the Griffin Kingdom doesn’t even know it yet,” cackled Elder Ruby.

“The child of ruin approaches the city. It would be wise to leave it,” said a choir of three voices into the room.

“Not just yet. I want to see the look on his face when the jaws of our trap snap around him,” replied Elder Ruby with seething hatred in her voice.

“My name is Jerimiah Wavestrider. Thank you for freeing me,” Jerimiah said to Deacon, with his head bowed low.

“No, don’t do that. I’m Deacon, Champion of Chimera. I was happy to do it. Slavery is wrong. Full stop,” Deacon said emphatically.

“I know of a plot to take the Shattered Sky. Who must I talk to? I’m afraid I don’t know much about the city,” Jerimiah said sheepishly.

“You and me both pal. But I’ve got good news. I know one of the nobles of the city. Could be a good place to start. Sound good?” Deacon asked looking the sea elf over.

His ears shot back like a bat themed sports car. Deacon imagined it would probably help with swimming. Other than that his hair was green, and his blue skin looked malnourished. Maybe getting some food in him would stop the shaking. That or stopping the Deep Dweller guards from laughing at him. Deacon then wondered where the hell Typhus went.

“Hey, Hani. Could you set this kid up with something to eat. Maybe get him a ride in your carriage?” Deacon asked the air knowing full well the jester would pop out of nowhere. On cue he appeared from Deacons blind spot on his left side.

“Sounds like a plan fearless leader,” Hani said as he took Jerimiah by the hand.

Jerimiah jumped back out of shock to see the almost six foot tall dark skinned man wearing a yellow and red striped jesters costume appear out of nowhere. The bells jingling from the ends of the extended pom poms cut the tension. Then all the guards started to laugh at Hani instead as he cavorted around trying to make Jerimiah feel at ease.

Deacon still didn’t like the jester angle. Reminded him too much of a clown. Deacon hated clowns. The repetitive music, the juggling, and the insistence on having fun with everyone in the vicinity. Nope, not Chimera damned clowns for Deacon. With that thought he walked down the length of the slow moving caravan looking for Typhus.

Ten minutes later he found him near the front of the caravan in the most ostentatious looking carriage. He was arguing with Breem, the house Bloodbeard attendant. Breem was the most stuffed shirt of all the Deep Dwellers Deacon had met yet. He had a sharp chin with the barest goatee. Considering most others of his race pride themselves on their beards, he really stood out.

“…and I say that the champion had nothing but good intentions. He was in a horrible state when I found him behind enemy lines. I had no healer and only the tools I had at hand. Now let me speak to him,” Typhus yelled looking up at Breem who was leaning out of the carriage door.

“Master Daskus is sleeping and asked not to be disturbed. Whether or not the champion intended this to be the outcome is neither here nor there. It has happened and I would have your brother speak to the Sovereign of the house before rumor begins. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, this rescue mission is not over. As the only other main branch Bloodbeard here, I suggest you get that rabble gawking at the jester back on task,” Breem said before slamming the door shut.

“What was that about?” Deacon asked Typhus who was fuming and stamping his feet.

“The exact reason I was happy to sign up for the Cardinal Unit. House politics. I hate it. But Breem is right. With my brother out of commission and the Tuskaxe twins riding ahead, I’m the senior member in charge until we get home. Did you sort out the bit with the sea elf?” Typhus asked.

“Hang on. Isn’t Daskus getting better? We can talk about Jerimiah in a minute,” Deacon inquired.

“He’s… changing. Something about those potions didn’t just heal him. It made him… I don’t know. Breem wants to get him to the temple quickly and have the priests work on him,” Typhus relayed.

“I’m sorry, Typhus. If I knew it would affect him like that, I would have never given it to you. Truly I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do. There wasn’t anything in the description about it,” Deacon explained trying to ease Typhus’s guilt.

“Doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. I’d like to brief your team in Alfred in twenty minutes or so. Can you gather everyone while I set things up here?” Typhus asked before he started scratching his arm. At the same time Deacon reached over to his right shoulder and scraping it with his nails. Then they both looked at each other and said the same thing.

“Undead!”