Deacon and Typhus split apart. Typhus searching the left side of the road while Deacon searched the right. The right side of the road looked down over grassy hills that slowly thinned turning into sandy beaches. From there he could see the ocean waves lapping against the shore. The air was slightly salty here and the temperature was humid. Out to sea, Deacon noticed a large storm moving slowly and causing large wave patterns in the distance before they calmed closer to land. There wasn’t anything that stuck out to him besides a few fishing vessels. Certainly nothing he’d consider undead.

Typhus peered out over vast tracks of farmland to the north. The carriages and soldiers passed by behind him as he surveyed the area. Due north was a small border town he knew of called Croks Landing. It contained a small community of farmers and craftsman. If there was an undead problem, Typhus assumed it was coming from there. He instructed his shadow self to keep an eye on his brother. Then he went to collect Deacon and the others. He found Deacon just staring into the middle distance as if he was reading a slate message.

“You alright, boy?” Typhus asked.

“What? Oh, sorry. That storm is moving awful slowly, isn’t it? Like it just wants to sit there,” replied Deacon not pulling his eyes from the storm in the distance.

“It’s just a storm. The rainy season for this region is about to start. Storms roll in off the coast. It’s a common occurrence. I think I might know what triggered our blessings. There is a town called Croks Landing an hour or so to the north. Let’s get the others and check it out,” Typhus said as he grabbed Deacon by the arm and tried to pull him bodily away from watching the storm.

“What about going to the Shattered Sky?” Deacon asked.

“At the rate this caravan is moving, it’ll still be several hours before we reach the city limits. There are enough guards here now that I’m not worried about the civilians in tow anymore. Maybe Sophie will even give us a guild quest to check it out,” Typhus answered as they reached Alfred’s carriage.

Ten minutes later inside Alfred’s conference room sat Typhus, Sophie, Amanda, Ralph, Sun Wu, Tantus, and Deacon. Typhus got up and started to explain his suspicions about the warning both he and Deacon received. As the ranking guild member in attendance, Sophie immediately offered a quest to ensure the safety of the people at Croks Landing.

New Quest: What the Crok?- Typhus Bloodbeard has a hunch that something nefarious may be going on in a nearby town. Investigate to see if anything untoward is happening in the small town of Croks Landing. Rewards- 500 Guild Renown, ????.

Deacon looked at the quest and grumbled. The question marks always meant something fishy was happening, but the wording of the quest was so nebulous. He had a bad feeling that this quest would end up cascading out of its original intention just like all the others. The Fates had a nasty of habit of manipulating the world around whatever he was doing. Often times just making shit more difficult for him. Deacon dismissed the slate screen to see Ralph slump over onto the table.

“Ralph!” Amanda exclaimed as she grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

“He should probably stay with the caravan. I don’t think he’s in any condition for this,” Deacon said hopping the table to help Ralph up.

“I think I should lie down,” Ralph said weakly.

“If we are splitting up. I suggest we let Ralph rest with Hani and this Jerimiah. I’ll stay with them and try to get whatever I can out of the sea elf. That way you can take Alfred with you in case of emergencies. Like last time,” Sophie said putting Ralph’s left arm around her shoulders.

“Amanda, are you comfortable with leaving him here?” Tantus asked.

“It should be fine. He has your communication stone. If something should go wrong, he can reach us that way,” Amanda answered checking that Ralph’s stone was still in his belt pouch.

“How do those work anyway? You never explained them to me,” Deacon asked Tantus while they exited the conference room getting groans from the gathered people.

“Yes, yes. I’m glad you asked. You see these are a less complex variant of the communication crystals. While they are in real time and can carry an image, my stones capture a message and send it to a corresponding stone. Then you can send another message after you’re done listening. It’s less convenient but much more cost effective. I’d like to sell them at the guild shop to customers that can’t afford an expensive communication crystal set up. I might become famous from just this little invention alone—” Tantus rambled before Deacon cut him off.

“I get it. The others were right to groan. I see that now,” Deacon said mockingly as he jumped out of the carriage quickly followed by an irate Tantus who swatting at Deacon’s back.

Alfred began collapsing his dimension while he reduced himself down to the dungeon nucleus. Sophie picked him up with care and went to close the door to the carriage. The door ended up closing on its own. Then it locked.

“It appears prolonged exposure to my dimension has left me with a lingering control over this carriage. Curious. Is that an effect of my External Interaction ability. Sadly those details are a mystery to me. Until master Deacon can find the conduits within Philo’s workshop,” Alfred said from within Sophie’s grasp.

“Hey, gimme Alfred. He’s my pal and he rides with me,” Deacon said as Tantus finally stopped smacking him on the back.

“Please don’t fight over me. I’m just a humble dungeon spirit that all you feel comfortable sleeping in. I’m also a lost deity hotel. I have many facets,” Alfred quipped stopping Deacon outright before he began laughing. He was quickly followed by the others.

Deacon said goodbye to Sophie and Ralph as they joined Hani and Jerimiah. They began their trip north but stopped five minutes into the trek as Hani came running up behind them. Deacon frowned thinking that Hani was the best one to guard the newly freed slave so why was he headed toward them?

“Ms. Turner suggested I join you. She also said she could get the information out of the elf and didn’t need psychic intrusion. Her words,” Hani said with a big smile.

“Well come on then. Did she tell you what we’re doing?” Typhus asked.

“Yes, something about undead. I assume this will be standard clear out. It’ll be nice to have a normal battle without intelligent trans dimensional spiders or goblin raids,” Hani replied.

“From your lips to Chimera’s ears, bud,” Deacon commented as he trudged along through the field.

Virges Hascavir was exhausted from his debrief with the main branch of house Hascavir. He returned to his quarters, a simple stone room below a majestic tree that was steeped in earth mana. His reward for completing his mission was hours of complaints from the next in line for house sovereignty, Venita. The questions she asked were almost exclusively about the champion. He didn’t realize Deacon was such a big deal. The champion fell into the dungeon like any other rock dropped from a cliff. Virges could hardly believe all the stories if he wasn’t there for several of them himself. It felt like too easy a kill to him. None the less, he was home now and had earned his rest and relaxation.

The room had fine furnishings. A four post bed with end table, a communication crystal affixed to the wall, even a small table in front of a two seater sofa festooned with fruits and cured meats. As far as rewards went, this wasn’t half bad.

Virges ate his fill before cleaning up in a washbasin. All the while wondering why Venita Hascavir was going through so much trouble to renovate the council chambers in case Deacon lived. She even brought in a few rune crafters to touch up the writing. Seemed like overkill to him. He laid down to have his first restful sleep in months.

“I think he’s asleep,” said the lead Pixie to the others before swinging a sewing needle around in a circle before loosing it toward the wood of the end table next to the bed.

Five small figures began scaling the leg of the end table. Hand over tiny hand, they climbed up the thin tread tied to the needles loop. The first few helping the last. They were all dressed in dark brown leaf cloaks with barest hint of their fibrous clothing peaking through. Two of them had mud under their eyes in brown streaks. They all managed to make the leap to the bed barely disturbing the sheets. The two with under eye marks stood on Virges’s chest and opened a small bag. They stepped forward ignoring the noise from the snoring Deep Dweller before dumping the entire contents of the bag in his nose and mouth.

Virges started to sputter from the powder before sliding into an almost comatose state. He was barely aware of some presences in his room, but he couldn’t move his arms and legs. His sheets were drawn off of him exposing his body in just his small clothes. Virges was confused by what was happening as five brush handles appeared above his chest. He could feel wetness around his body as the small handles moved back and forth in strange patterns. What concerned him more was the amount of mana in the air. It was swirling around the handles and sinking into his skin. Normally that would grant his mana bar a boost if it was earth aligned mana, but this was mixed with others sources and his mana bar was quickly dropping. His heart was beating a mile a minute until he began hyperventilating and eventually passed out.

In the morning, Virges’s eyes popped open. He felt like he’d spent last night at the pub drinking the place dry. He groggily stumbled out of bed and headed toward the wash bowl. His hair was all matted to his face and he had vague recollections of a dream where he was paralyzed. He lifted his head rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes and looked in the hanging mirror. His whole face, chest, arms, and legs were covered in blood red runes. Above all else he noticed his stamina bar was half the size it normally was, and his mana bar refused to fill. It was just zero percent out of one hundred. After a night of sleep it should have filled to full especially under the tree.

Stumbling back from the mirror he raced over to his clothes. It seemed they were altered during the night as well. There was no crotch in his pants and his shirt was expertly tailored to expose his nipples. Then he looked backed at the mirror and screamed. His beard was completely gone. There was no stubble or anything. It was as if he never reached puberty. Just smooth skin from ear to ear. This was all too much for him and he dove into his slate messages.

You have been cursed by the Fae Court: Pixie Runes of Shame- Your stamina and mana will fuel this curse until such a time as you are not a coward. Your cowardice was witnessed by the entire court when you ran from the dungeon after being asked to help. The runes cannot be removed by curse breaking skills. Only by an act of selfless bravery. The court doubts you are capable of such a feat.