The Carnival of the Damned

The door to Dimitri's caravan shut behind him with a click as he flopped down onto the worn cot. A cloud of dust billowed upward, yet did not seem to affect his good mood as he chuckled with glee at his most recent findings. Dropping his cap to the floor below, the gypsy carefully and reverently placed the music box down on a nearby end table.

“Ah, good news shall bring much fortune to my pockets. Why, if Mortis were here, he would say-”

“He would say what, Dimitri?”

The tawny gypsy bolted up to a sitting position, scowling into the inky shadows of the small caravan. A  figure was scarcely discernible, leaning casually in the far corner, watching the other with a curious gaze. Relaxing at recognition of the other, Dimitri sank back to his lounging with a relieved chuckle.

“Ah! Mortis! So it is you! Ha! You must stop your sneaking, my good friend. You are much too silent.” The other shifted his position as well, nodding a slight greeting to the former.

“As the grave, my friend. As the grave.” He did not stray from the shadowy corner, keeping his expression well hidden in it's gloom.

“Now then, it sounds to me as though you have quite the tale to tell. Well? Let us hear it.”

“Ah-ah! Not so fast. You are forgetting something, maybe?” Dimitri waved a hoof in a scolding motion, prompting Mortis to reach to his side and produce a gleaming coin from a satchel beneath his cloak. He tossed this next to the music box with a clatter.

“Let us hear it, 'please'.” He emphasized the last word as the gypsy bent to examine the currency, shaking his head as he did so.

“Oh, I would much like to, my friend. Yet this information I know, it is how you say...'worth a pretty penny...or two...” A jingling crash next to the music box as the full satchel was tossed onto the table, many similar coins scattering out of the opening.

“Ah! Better, much better!” His eyes widened with delight at the sum.

“This information had better be worth it, Dimitri, lest your head fall next.” Mortis frowned, the gleaming yellowed eyes punctuating his threat all the more.

“Of course! Of course, my friend. For you, anything.” Dimitri smiled, bowing his head and snatching up the coins to count them as he gestured to the nearby music box.

“See for yourself. It contains the answer of why this land once dead now lives again. A grand prospect for one such as yourself, sir. You, who deal so much in that which is lifeless.”

As Dimitri spoke, Mortis took hold of the box, opening it to reveal the images of Ancient Blood's thoughts. The music within began once more to play it's eerie tune, the green light playing over the stallion's features to distort them even more in the unnatural light. The mesmeric tune seeming to have no influence over him.

“So I see. Indeed this could be most useful. For what is necromancy without the dead, and the magics without the life for which to summon them? Ah, there is much power here. If a few drops of blood could do so much for a pathetic wasteland... I wonder....”

He snapped the box shut, plunging the room back into darkness and tossed it to the other, who immediately scrambled to keep the relic from hitting the wooden floorboards.

“Dimitri, I have another task for you.” Mortis emerged from the shadows, setting another satchel down near to the first, the opening revealing many types of gemstones in various settings. “Find this 'Rose', bring her here alive to this carnival. I wish to test for myself this 'power'. Blood is life, and we may have it in abundance. Enough for all the deceased in Aelor. An army of death with which to cleanse the land and usurp a most promising throne. It has been a realm of blood for far too long, my friend. It is time for a land of bone. A necromancer's paradise. Do this, and your rewards will be doubled.” Without another word, he stepped out of the small caravan to disappear into the lights and noise of the ongoing carnival, a shadow of death prowling among life.

“Doubled, he says?” The greed in Dimitri's eyes was unmistakable as he  locked up his new found riches and whistled from the caravan's opening. A small filly peered down from the roof, grinning mischievously as she fought to keep her witch's hat in her upside-down position.

“You called?”

She hopped down, her striped socks and excitable nature marking her as one of the circus folk.

“Ah! Excellent! Hazel, dear, I have a favor to ask of you....”