Deacon dropped the shattered pieces of ice that used to be a slavers leg. After slurping up their souls, he turned back to the makeshift rock igloo he hastily constructed. Carefully Deacon transferred all the stones back into his bag. Some of them were fist sized while others would need to be held with both hands. This revealed the citizens of Crok’s Landing huddled together. Some of them were at odd angles as the shelter was built around them.

“Are you alright? Is everyone accounted for?” asked Deacon as he reached down to start snapping chain links. Apparently, his Slave Masters Bane title only worked on slave collars. Not chains and manacles.

“Just before you got here, we managed to free Mrs. Palander’s little one. He ran into the fields. A fat one of the bastards went chasing after him. You must hurry, that way… Where did all this snow come from?” replied the villager that was previously being whipped before he got distracted.

The captives took an active roll in freeing each other from the chain that Deacon broke as he sprinted off into the rain. Deacon didn’t want to think what could happen to that little kid if he didn’t find him. He checked his soul energy bar to see it was down to two hundred fifteen percent. That should be more than enough. Peering out into the field he spied a bale of hay pushed over onto its side. He proceeded in that direction. A few minutes later he noticed fresh muddy prints in the ground. They were deep and filling with water fast. Deacon knew a deep footprint was an indication of weight just based on logic. He didn’t have any tracking skills, so he decided to rely on his high luck. He took a deep breath and tried to focus beyond the constant patter of rain.

That was when he heard the snap of leather coming from a grove of trees to his right. He would never have heard that if he was still running and slogging through the rain. Deacon hurried toward that sound hoping he wasn’t too late.

“You see little one. You’ll sell at a premium if your unspoiled. That rule only really applies to your outside. Take off your shirt. This time I get first dibs,” said the corpulent slaver.

He had his belt off and looped slapping it into his own hand. The boy was practically clawing his way through the trunk of a tree. As the boy grabbed for the underside of his shirt, Deacon ghosted his way through the tree and the boy. He stood sentinel, like a colossal statue of strength to the small gnome boy who then balled up his fists.

The slaver grabbed at his crotch before an apparition with shinning green eyes appeared in front of the boy. The ghost solidified into a man just over six feet tall with white dreadlocks. The thing that really didn’t make sense was the ghost was wearing sandals. The slaver shook it off and attempted to sidestep the spirit so he could grab the boy and run. At the same time the spirit backhanded him, sending him spinning into the mud.

“You are soaked. Here put this on. I want you to go back to town. Your momma’s waiting for you. I’ll deal with the pig in the mud,” Deacon said to the boy as he took off his hoody and gave it to him.

Deacon watched as the boy ran back to town wearing a sweater that would always be too big for him. Now it was time to deal with the swine that was still here.

“I don’t know who you are but you’re messing with the Sharkfin privateers. That succulent piece of meat is worth a fortune at auction. I’m going to take every coin out of your ass. Don’t think we don’t have magical collars for the likes of you. Come quietly and maybe I’ll go easy on you,” spoke the slaver none too confident in his words as he got up.

“You don’t deserve the quick death I was going to give you. Thanks for letting me know who you work for, now I know what organization crush under my feet,” said Deacon before triggering Palm of Damnation.

Deacon shot through the mud like a jet ski, complete with wake. Mud sprayed into the air with Deacon’s slide as his open palm strike landed directly on the fat man’s chest. Red orange energy suffused the slavers body as his scream reverberated between this dimension and that of the Infernal plane. The muddy wake crated by Deacon’s passing instantly dried out, creating a trench with clay walls between Deacon’s back foot and where he started the strike. The fat pirate turned to ash and began to mix in with the boiling pools of water around where he previously stood.

That ability cost him two hundred soul energy. Now he was working with only fifteen and he knew he couldn’t go down to zero or he’d risk letting Sun Wu loose creating a whole new problem. Considering Sun Wu probably cost the gnomes everything before, he was positive it would not go over well. Deacon then noticed he didn’t get a quest complete notification. That made him worry so he turned toward the village and sprinted in that direction.

Back at Crok’s Landing, Alfred, Tantus, and Hani ushered people back into the tavern out of the rain. There was no sign of Amanda, but the tavern owner assured them everyone except Mrs. Palander’s son was here. He had run off in the commotion at the front gates.

“The white haired one went after him,” said a gnome who had just come in from the rain.

“That’s Deacon. He won’t come back without him,” added Tantus as he attempted to manage morale.

Above lighting crashed and a stiff breeze blew in through the door. It managed to blow out the torches on the sconces. A shadow not unlike a floating specter projected through the doorway as lightning struck again. It had no discernible hands and it’s head was pointed and floppy. Everyone in the tavern collectively gasped as it spoke.

“Mom?” asked the boy while struggling with the oversized sleeves of Deacon’s hoody.

Tantus cast a spell and tiny globes of light, not all that different size and shape than Ignis, floated to darkened corners of the room lighting up the tavern. While he did that the tavern keeper ran from sconce to sconce relighting the torches. Mrs. Palander raced toward the door and scooped up her son in a sweeping hug. That caused Deacon’s hood to fall away from his head. She immediately began peppering him with kisses as he tried to squirm out of her grasp.

That caused a round of clapping to break out in the now re-lit tavern. Hani nodded to Tantus as several of the gnomes surrounded the clanking metal body of Alfred. The automaton with the top hat made of metal looked toward Tantus.

“Alright folks step away from the emergency fighting gentleman the guild so graciously leant to us. It was an emergency and we figured now would be a good time to turn it on. We’ll be putting him back into storage shortly,” said Tantus as he tried to shoo the townsfolk away from Alfred.

“Emergency fighting gentleman my smooth round butt. I know Gnomish engineering when I see it. But here is not the time nor the place to get into where you found that,” whispered the tavern owner to Tantus, as he handed out drinks to help calm his patrons.

“Yes, yes. You’re right. Now is not the time,” responded Tantus happy to not cause more conflict.

Alfred left the tavern and stood guard outside the door. He was now covered in mud from the fighting and feeling like a million gold. He was out on the material plane in a body. Sure he was severely limited in this metal shell, but he was outside of his dungeon and interacting with people. He had so many questions about how the rain fell and ran randomly between his metal fingers. He obviously couldn’t feel it, but he could observe the natural order of the real world. It was then that he was sure he didn’t want to go back into Deacon’s bag.

Deacon could finally see the lights of the tavern as he walked into town. He hoped his team had gotten all of them. It would be a shame if they missed anyone. Just as he had that thought he received a slate notification.

Quest Complete: Crok full of Slavers- Stop the slavers from ransacking Crok’s Landing and return the boy back to his mother. Rewards; Title upgrade for Slave Masters Bane.

Slaver Masters Bane II- with this title equipped you receive a bonus twenty percent damage and damage resistance when fighting slavers. It also allows you to destroy mundane and magical slave collars on contact. Hunters become the hunted; you can now sense slave owners and slave masters in a five mile diameter centered on you. Range will be extended by one mile with every ten killed slavers. No cost.

“By the ten hells! That is a sweet upgrade,” Deacon spoke aloud before coming across a pacing Amanda a few feet past the entrance to Crok’s Landing. She was talking to herself.

“You’re finally here. I’m not waiting anymore. I can all but feel her presence in that city. I’m sorry but I’m not going to wait. Please find Ralph for me and tell him where I’ve gone. I know if I stay with you, I’ll get caught up in more of this insanity. I’m out of time. I’m sorry,” she said before pushing past him then breaking into a run.

“Amanda wait! Let me help you... and she’s gone. Fuuuck!” yelled Deacon.