Deacon greeted both Amanda and Hani. After a few words were exchanged they both headed up the stairs to Deacon’s apartment. Then next group of adventurers stepped up to the Chimera shrine before disappearing in a flash of light. That’s when Jacob turned back to Deacon with a serious look on his face.

“I received Sophie’s message a couple weeks ago. She did not go into great detail, and I don’t see her with you. Is there something you’d like to tell me? We were all quite worried when we found the state of her quarters the next day. What happened?” asked Jacob, as he lead Deacon down the hall leading to his office.

Deacon’s eyes were cast down to his feet. Jacob opened the door to his office and Deacon flopped down in one of the cushioned chairs before Jacob’s desk. To his credit, Jacob did not press the issue. He just poured himself a drink and gestured to the bottle with raised eyebrows. Deacon shook his head before Jacob sat down.

“Efimeo Cullep.”

“Efimeo Cullep? He’s been missing since the invasion. What’s he got to do with this?”

“He’s had some kind of race change, kind of like me but much more monstrous. Efimeo now has a pair of black and white wings. He wears a cloth over his face with some symbol I don’t recognize. The part that really gets me is I let him live. He was just a kid when we fought the day of the invasion. I knocked him out of his damn boots with one backhand. I figured he’d had enough, so I left him there to stew in his own juices. The creature formally known as Efimeo Cullep claims he’s Fates Chosen. Whatever that means. He said that when I encountered him next. That was in the Coliseum in the capital. I had just gone through some grueling battels and my energy was low. He swooped in on these wings with a chained up Sophie at his side. She looked pretty beat up. That guy is sick. Through a series of events, I managed to rescue her and defeat him. Although I have it on good authority he isn’t dead. I should have put him down during the invasion. This is all my fault.”

Jacob just stared at Deacon with the glass halfway to his mouth. The Canidae’s eyebrows furrowed as he slammed the glass down, shattering it. The rumble growing from his chest was even louder now and Deacon was startled out of his self-loathing. He even thought he saw some of Jacob’s hair on his shoulders changing color before it stopped. Then Deacon received a new prompt.

Guild Wide Quest: Find Efimeo Cullep- One hundred silver pieces and a thousand Guild Renown is offered for the location of Efimeo Cullep. Efimeo Cullep is accused of abduction and torture of a guild official. He is described as having one black wing and one white wing, face obscured with a bloody cloth. Once verified the reward will be granted. The Adventurer’s Guild defends their own.

The entire building erupted in chants of, the Adventurer’s Guild defends their own. Deacon hadn’t heard anything like it before. The building itself practically buzzed with energy. He was slightly emotional when he really thought about it. Deacon couldn’t help thinking this was what Armand meant all those weeks ago when he insisted, he join their guild.

“If he’s still out there, we’ll find him and make him pay. I promise you that. The guild is not a place to get drunk and make a little coin. We are a brotherhood. One you both joined when you accepted your tattoos,” Jacob said as he cleaned up the mess he made of his desk.

“Glad to hear it,” Deacon replied straightening his posture with pride.

They talked for a few more minutes before Deacon excused himself. His next stop would be the cantina to stock up on stews and road bread. When he was done with that, he headed over to the Guild Shop to investigate the skill books they had available. Deacon was specifically looking for passive skills. Things he didn’t have to use soul energy to activate. Most of the books on offer were level one trade and survival skills. Few of them were passive. Two did catch his eye though. There was a mountain climbing skill book as well as a distance swimming skill book. They were advanced versions of the climbing and swimming skills. He knew Typhus’s plan relied on him being able to climb the cliff side to aid the twins. Basic climbing he could do but that seemed like it would be more complex than the large hillside he scrambled up in the Wode.

After a little more deliberation he decided to take both of them. They were five silver each or ten guild points each. Deacon opened up his slate to check his guild point balance. He had over eleven hundred guild points. The books quickly went into his bag. His next stop was Finley the Teller.

“Greetings chosen representative of the Fae. How can I help you today?” rhymed Finley.

“So you did have something to do with that! What’s the deal with the Centennial games? Why am I wrapped up in it?” Deacon barraged Finley with questions.

“You are a hero in good standing. The Fae are proud to send you as their representative in this cross plane tournament. All those that show promise from the Mortal Plane and the Earthbound Plane will compete in a series of events to be crowned The Hundred,” explained the Teller.

“What is that?” questioned Deacon.

“Well it’s a legendary title that can only be obtained by wining the competition. The last winner went on to accomplish great things throughout the planes. A true legend that one. I’m sure you’ll at least place,” answered the Teller.

“What do the contestants get that place?” Deacon asked frowning.

“As long as they survive, they get to go home. There are multiple factions sending representatives and they don’t all get along. You’ll learn more when the time comes. I have a few things for you while you are here. This one is from your apprentice and here is your profit and loss statement. You will want to pay attention to line twenty three. This is a package from your tailor. They started to stack up while you were away,” stated the Teller.

Deacon took a minute to step to the side and read the message from Anry, his alchemy apprentice, and shove his new clothes in his bag. Apparently, the reduction in potion vials has hit a critical mass. The Tower has been buying up every vial or flask they can from every glass blower in the city. Effectively freezing out our ability to provide potions for the guild without buying them from the Tower. Deacon knew he had that problem on lock now, so he moved on to his P and L. Line twenty three showed his expense in the recurring quests for low level adventurers was now exceeding his profit. It seems all the ingredients he had them hunting down were just stacking up in the alchemy lab in boxes waiting for potion making to resume. Even the harder to get ingredients for the more advanced potions had started to come in. It was time to nip this in the bud.

Deacon finished setting up the deal with his new glass smith through the Teller and then on to the Alchemy lab. He knew he was in danger of defaulting on his deal with Jacob so the potions would have to start flowing. As he made his way back to the great hall, he spotted Tarik wheeling a cart of tinkling glass his way. Deacon felt his luck was working overtime to make that happen. Tarik got held up by a fellow adventurer asking him what his purpose was before he locked eyes with Deacon. A quick wave and a head nod and Tarik was let through.

“Champion, I thought I could run over what I had available now. I started out toward the Ascend road before turning around using your freight elevator. It cut the trip down considerably,” Tarik said while painting.

“That’s great. Feel free to use that whenever possible. What did you bring me?” Deacon asked inspecting the small cart with four boxes filled with hay. The hay cushioned the glass which was situated in individual tiny crates with wood shavings on the bottom. It smelled like freshly split wood.

“I’ve been making some flasks and vials for practice. Working with the local supply of sand to see what the best mix is. They aren’t my best work, but I figured you could use them until we exchange that high quality sand,” explained Tarik.

All the vials and flasks floated into the air and down into Deacon’s bag. Then took out the much lighter crates and stacked them against the wall. Tarik looked at Deacon quizzically and tilted his head to the side like dogs do when they don’t understand something.

“You’re going to need the room for the barrels of sand I’m about to provide you. While I get that ready, head down that hall there and speak to Finley the Teller. You can’t miss him. He’ll be the Fae stuck behind the countertop. That’ll be your contact for payment while I’m gone,” directed Deacon as he headed toward the Alchemy lab.

Anry was not in the lab but there were boxes galore stacked up everywhere. Deacon got to work dumping the contents of all of them in his bag figuring he’d sort it all out later. The majority of them were healing potion ingredients anyway. Once the contents were emptied Deacon began stuffing the boxes themselves into, he bag. That made a lot more room in the lab. The equipment hadn’t changed much since the last time he was here. It still smelled of crushed leaves and honey in the lab. Two of the more common variants of ingredients for healing potions. The slabs used for countertops were pitted and coarse. He owed Anry a big thanks for taking care of things in his absence. With that he began floating all the equipment he acquired from the Gnomish lab. This would surely give Anry a surprise once he returned. Deacon took some time to write him a note explaining how the pipets and tubes worked in hopes Anry could improve his recipe even further. All the while Haunted Craftsman was busy making potions to fill the meager five crates worth of glass ware he’d just received.