#exceptionally poorly made fake shadow

[arenaconspiracy]

made this ages ago and i'm pretty sure i forgot to post it. metadata lists this as being from july 1st 2023

i don't remember but i'm pretty sure i didn't spend much effort on this

@bananaseller2

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 22: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A small, Randomly Colored folded paper bird. When unfolded, it refolds itself and any crumples or tears it has sustained magically fix themselves.

An eyepatch resembling a large flower that covers the entire eye of the creature wearing it. When applied to a creature’s face, the eyepatch grows rootlike tendrils that wrap around the bearer's head to secure it.

A set of fish jaws fashioned into a bracelet. When worn, the bearer has an in depth knowledge of northern pike.

A bracelet made from a lattice of woven brass. It automatically adjusts itself to the wrist size of its bearer.

A shimmery cloak clasp depicting a violin and a sword. It smells vaguely of ash and fire.

A sealed metal tin labeled “Armstrong Mustache Wax”. According to the description, the recipe has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations

A glazed porcelain pipe. Everything about it seems vaguely familiar, but you aren’t sure why.

An old and beaten up steel drinking flask. After carrying the object for more than 1d4 hours, the bearer becomes convinced that the flask has to be kept a secret.

An uncannily familiar face etched into a piece of dead wood.

A marble pyramid, small enough to fit in a human’s palm. When held, shadows seem to flicker in the corners of the bearer's vision.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A small, Randomly Colored folded paper bird. When unfolded, it refolds itself and any crumples or tears it has sustained magically fix themselves.

An eyepatch resembling a large flower that covers the entire eye of the creature wearing it. When applied to a creature’s face, the eyepatch grows rootlike tendrils that wrap around the bearer's head to secure it.

A set of fish jaws fashioned into a bracelet. When worn, the bearer has an in depth knowledge of northern pike.

A bracelet made from a lattice of woven brass. It automatically adjusts itself to the wrist size of its bearer.

A shimmery cloak clasp depicting a violin and a sword. It smells vaguely of ash and fire.

A sealed metal tin labeled “Armstrong Mustache Wax”. According to the description, the recipe has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations

A glazed porcelain pipe. Everything about it seems vaguely familiar, but you aren’t sure why.

An old and beaten up steel drinking flask. After carrying the object for more than 1d4 hours, the bearer becomes convinced that the flask has to be kept a secret.

An uncannily familiar face etched into a piece of dead wood.

A marble pyramid, small enough to fit in a human’s palm. When held, shadows seem to flicker in the corners of the bearer's vision.

A glass marble that looks a bit like a lizard’s eye and is always a bit cold to the touch.

A dried yellow tulip bulb that becomes healthy and opens when brought into especially strong sunlight.

A rather clunky cube of dark wood, engraved with hypnotizing patterns.

A hand sized, grey, stone statuette of a woman. It’s exceptionally detailed for its size, as even the folds in her cloak look almost lifelike.

A sewing needle made from some type of unknown, otherworldly metal.

A maroon eye patch, covered in fine embroidery that depicts tangled rose vines.

A polished wooden carving of a fish that turns a vibrant green when placed in water.

A polished mirror in a simple wooden frame. Looking into it for too long makes people feel uneasy in a way they cannot fully describe.

A crudely made wool, right handed glove, that's always pleasantly warm.

A fist sized crystal that looks like it holds trapped smoke. It is easily scratched.

A velvet pouch filled with coarse sand that feels weightless.

A bronze brooch in the shape of a feather that lets off a faint glow.

A single Randomly Colored dragon scale, worn away by time.

A glass bottle of some type of potent-smelling tonic. It’s taste is gritty and bitter, and somewhat reminiscent of charcoal.

A leaf that never rots, wilts or decays. Purple speckles dapple its surface whenever it’s held in the light.

An empty section of honeycomb. It causes an almost electric tingle if touched to bare skin.

A lock of fur tied into a tight bundle with a parchment scrap beside it. It reads, “Pelt Sample #027”.

A gilded teacup, laced with a spiderweb of thin cracks. Despite the cracks, it never seems to break.

A slip of tattered paper covered in something resembling letters. It seems to be a poem written in an old language.

A tightly rolled scroll. Reading reveals it to be someone’s diary. They apparently had a dramatic life.

A simple, copper belt buckle.

A twisted, grey wooden walking cane sized for a halfling.

An ornate, tarnished key with two prongs. Neither end seems to be able to open anything.

A rich, purple hand fan. Intricate designs of peacocks cover it’s surface when unfolded.

A small piece of dead brain coral. Your mind feels at ease when you hold it.

A tablet of fired clay. Dozens of names are written on its surface.

An iron-bound bullhorn

A small bone whistle carved with symbols and imagery of death. When blown it creates shrill, eerie notes that echos into the distance.

A simple white ribbon. While it is attached to clothing, the bearer finds it difficult to fall asleep.

An urgent letter requesting help. The date indicates that it's from over a hundred years ago, but its linguistics are more suited to more current times.

A used incense burner crafted from a human sternum.

A finely beaded women's handbag. The beads are made of glass, and the different colors have been sewn into an image of a sandwich.

A large, dark blue button. On it is a baby's bassinet painted in gold.

A sewing kit filled with cacti needles with fine holes in the end instead of regular sewing needles.

A set of watercolor brushes perfectly sized for a gnome.

A bronze calligraphy pen covered in filigree patterns. When used as a writing utensil, the bearer will be incapable of stopping themselves from adding an "e", or that languages equivalent, to the end of every word.

A whetstone that will sharpen blades, but only if the bearer asks nicely first. If the bearer does not ask, every blade they attempt to sharpen will become increasingly dull.

A large vial made of smokey quartz, whose plug is comprised of compressed grass and glue.

A deck of well worn playing cards, marked with indeterminable stains and smelling of cigar smoke and whiskey.

A small bracelet made up of a series of interlocking clockwork mechanisms and ring puzzles.

A pamphlet for a new church in an unfamiliar town. It details their strong beliefs in polyamorous relationships and their condemnation for magic of any kind.

A pamphlet for a lecture on the differences between gnomes and halflings in a town not too far away.

A six inch coffin, hand carved from elm. The inside is padded and covered in light pink silk.

A plain oaken case, the inside of which is lined in plush, royal blue velvet. The velvet has three indents on which lie three ordinary looking pine cones.

A poorly made porcelain vase with gold leaf randomly placed on it.

A mason jar with a scattering of unicorn hair across the bottom.

A stuffed toy frog with amber, glass eyes. When in possession of the bearer, they will notice that the air around them is oddly absent of bugs.

A set of fake eyelashes made out of owlbear fur.

A short haired wig made from owlbear fur.

A long haired, black wig made from the hair of a horse's mane. There are strands of gold woven through it.

A fairly unused set of Orcish dentures. The canine teeth are made of silver.

A crystal perfume bottle half filled with a potent, musky scent.

A gnome sized silver hair brush. On it in Orcish script is crudely scratched “Remember Me”

Several dried moose ears sewn together and fashioned into a sheath for an average sized dagger

A black linen sleeping mask that covers the bearer's eyes during sleep to stop light from bothering the bearer.

A clear hermit crab shell made of glass.

A small bowl made of bronze. If any liquid but water is put in it, it will take on a salty taste.

An off-white canvas bag with a green and bronze dragon embroidered on it. It always smells of a campfire that has just been put out.

A small pillbox made out of layered purple, metallic scales. A close examination reveals that the scales are metallic, but even a knowledgeable PC cannot identify what creature they originally belonged to.

A small bag containing a set of a dozen 2x2 cm steel cubes.

A large riding crop with steel studs in it. A creature hit by it immediately develops a series of bloody welts in their skin which spell out the word "Ouch".

A pair of Randomly Coloured silk stockings.

A flute that makes no sound, no matter how it is played. It’s surface is a shimmery grey.

A heartfelt poem about unrequited love on a pristine scroll.

A stone tablet, with etchings of great heroes covering it. All of their eyes are scratched out.

A sketch depicting a wilting rose that causes anyone who looks at it to feel bleak.

A flamboyant masquerade mask with large, rare feathers coming from one side. There’s a small chip under the left eye.

A ragged piece of burlap with the personal crest of a wealthy merchant inked onto it.

A set of smooth iron bangles. They have a decent weight to them, as if they’re pure rather than plated.

A broad cavalier hat that's a bit old, but it’s still fairly stylish.

An ornate saucer painted with scenes of songbirds in flight. Whenever you aren’t looking directly at it, the birds seem to move.

A wooden birdhouse, carved and painted to look like a castle.

A wooden spool with three feet of coiled copper wire.

A specially crafted steel cage that looks like it could hold about five rats. It includes stout leather straps around its open end and a metal crucible for holding hot charcoal or other fuel on its top end. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize this as a torture device used by tightly strapping the open end of the device to a helpless victim’s abdomen, inserting the rats into the cage, and setting the crucible’s fuel alight. The increasing strong heat of the metal crucible causes the rats to gnaw and dig their way through the victim’s abdomen to escape. Panicked rats will chew clear through the victim's body in order to escape the heat.

A deck of illustrated fortune-teller’s cards, used by those in tune with the spirit world to predict the future, and by charlatans to take money from gullible or desperate people. The deck is made of quality wooden plaques with painted color images and is stored in a smooth leather case.

A large suitcase containing a croquet set. It includes four wooden mallets, nine wooden wickets (goals), and four wooden balls.

A suitcase containing a dartboard set. It includes a multicolored board that breaks into four smaller pieces for easy travel and six brass-tipped darts. The board itself consists of a layer of of painted cork on hardwood backing.

A wooden box containing a set of dominoes. There are 28 white marble tiles with pips on each end.

A set of four brightly colored juggling sticks adorned with colorful streamers that can be tossed and manipulated to create displays and patterns.

A leather case containing two iron stakes and four iron horseshoes.

A thin length of rope with many oddly shaped bits of hollow metal fixed along its length. Commonly known as a roar cord, a creature can swing it over their head to generate a variety of eerie noises.

A broad-brimmed straw hat with a green linen band

A cast iron skillet whose perfect mirror surface never scratches.

A wood cased harmonica trimmed in tin

A small sack containing 30 gold pieces. Perceptive PC's will notice that they are all fakes, with thin gold plating over lead coins.

A palm sized rock with a lifelike mouth painted on it. While in a creature's possession, any laugh, chuckle or giggle the bearer utters sounds forced or fake, even if it's genuine.

An anklet made from fresh liquid blood, held together by odd magic.

A strange horn made of a winding pretzel of valves and tubes that according to the maker's mark, was finely crafted by a powerful bard. Knowledgeable PC's will remember that the horn was constructed for one purpose, to lock a terrible beast away deep within the mountain of Redwall. It contains a large portion of the life essence of that bard and to this day it remains as the solitary key to the door that holds the beast at bay. No one knows who this bard was, but he remains an unsung hero of the city.

A demon skin stretched over a black wooden war drum that creates deep growling rumbles when beaten.

A driftwood coin whose color is constantly swirling in different muted hues, from pale gray to seafoam green and even thin stripes of black. The surface of the coin is utterly smooth, as if it has spent an aeon at the bottom of the sea. Despite this, the elven queen and king that adorn its opposite faces are still depicted in perfect detail.

[writeanapocalae]

The Sleeping World

The World of Gray | The Sleeping World | The World of Gray | The World of Gray| The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Falling Plane of Loss | The Sleeping World

Casteval woke with a deep inhale, as if he’d been under water for far too long. There was no one around him though, no one trying to resuscitate him. He was in a back alley, not in a lake, and the only liquid around was the long stream of goo coming from one of the dumpsters. He was behind a restaurant, by the smell of it.

He breathed, trying to catch up, and winced, fire in his belly. He reached down, feeling the sticky heat there, making his shirt cling to his skin. He opened his eyes fully then, looking down himself. Blood. His blood. He could still feel the stab wounds, the four of them, deep, terribly deep, deeper than he though someone could survive.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position, undoing the buttons of his shirt, trying to look at what was happening. He’d never been stabbed before, he didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. The pain was expected , the four half moon shapes dribbling blood were only a surprise because this was real, this wasn’t some weird fake hallucination world. He’d carried this wound from that made up place into the real world. He didn’t think that a stab wound, especially not one in the stomach, would ever feel so cold.

He pulled himself to his feet. Even that was a feat. His muscles ached from climbing a well that didn’t exist and the movement stretched his wounds, making the gush more. He encircled the wounds with his hands, groaning. He had to put pressure on them, had to get to a hospital, but he knew that touching them would be agonizing.

He didn’t even know how he was conscious.

The cold was spreading, like numbness was trying to take him over. As much as he didn’t want to feel the pain of it, the idea of it subsiding was terrifying. If it was all gone, that would mean that something really bad was happening, that it was killing him and his body couldn’t handle it.

He leaned against the wall, breathing, trying to talk himself into taking a step forward. The wound wasn’t bleeding as much now.

He pulled at his sleeve, bunching it in one hand, and wiped at the wounds. He wasn’t imagining it. The wound really wasn’t bleeding as much. The cuts looked smaller, were less inflamed, even though there were angry red veins feeding into it, trying to build up puss and blood to protect him from infection. He was healing, insanely fast, as if his body was just now realizing that it was real.

It was a hallucination, like the rest of that place, and he had carried it with him. He wasn’t actually bleeding. His mind was just trying to fill in the gaps. That was all. He sighed again and buttoned up his shirt. If he wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t hurt. Focusing on it would only make him hold onto the illusion for longer.

Walking was still hard, both because of the residual pain and because the world didn’t feel quite right. He’d felt so much in that other world, both the Falling Plane and that gray place that this world, the real world, felt dulled in comparison.

People were staring at him, everyone he passed took a look at his face and then at his shirt, where he knew there wasn’t a terrible blood stain. He was fine. He breathed through his clenched teeth. There was nothing to stare at him for. They all stared. A few people asked him if he was alright but he just waved them off. More talked after they’d left his eyesight.

Even when he reached his favorite route home, the one that was more back alley than road, the one that left him alone, with no other pedestrians for him to deal with, he could feel people staring at him.

There were eyes in the shadows and he shook his head. They weren’t really there. Nothing was really there. Even though the shadows were darker and longer than they should have been, there weren’t eyes in them. Nothing was watching him, aside from the CCTV and the passerby from the main roads. He was just imagining it.

He hated that he couldn’t trust his own imagination anymore. That his mind lied to him with every side eyed glance.

The world felt heavier too, like he was walking slower than he was used to, that everything was draining him. A side effect of the drugs, he assumed, not that he even knew that they were. He was definitely calling out tomorrow. He’d probably be fired, but he’d been expecting that for months now. It wouldn’t be too big of a deal.

He was almost home. He could see the street that would take him to his apartment complex, just over the next hill. The hill looked like it was not traversable though, his feet too slow and heavy, the pain in his stomach barely present but the numbness having spread to most of his abdomen.

Setting his jaw, he took a step forward, ready for the trial. It was hard sometimes, after work, when all he wanted to do was sleep. This was just so much more than that though, every step feeling like it would topple him over.

“Hey, where you think you’re going?” someone asked and he waved them off. He didn’t have the energy right now for some panhandler.

“Casteval, you’re going to fall,” the someone kept up with him, a hand on his elbow. He was. He was going to fall. He didn’t mind the stranger pulling him into a side street, one that he’d been in a million times before, and pressing him up against a gray brick wall. The stone was cold against his back and he closed his eyes, breathing, allowing himself to relax.

He wasn’t in danger. This other person knew him. His voice was warm and welcome, even if it was a bit predatory. He was helping.

“Now, what am I supposed to do with you?” he asked, and Casteval could feel his callused fingers against his jaw, turning his head one way and the other. “You start feeling things? Seeing things? You’re not part of this world anymore, are you?”

Casteval cracked an eye open, noting his friends face. It was heavily lined, as if he was exceptionally old, but his bone structure was still strong and his hair still vibrant and healthy. He didn’t look old, just textured. He wore a turtleneck and thick black sunglasses, hiding his eyes completely, even though the sun was setting. His hair was a curly mess, hiding his ears poorly. There was something wrong about the way that they were shaped.

Casteval didn’t know him.

@kly-writes, @mynameis3-14, @anhathaway, @writing-at-dusk, @itskassidywrites, @ghost-possum, @blank-nova-trash

[kottsworks]

An Interesting Start

Fifth Tier, Year 425, Day 217

The sun was just hitting the edge of the horizon as Eli made another pass around his cart. He continued his stressful waiting just as he had for the past half an hour. He tightened the straps on the horses. He checked the bars on the cage. Occasionally he even dared a glance at the barracks that he stood in front of. He ran over his checklist again and again. “Just one more check” he kept telling himself. Partly, he did this out of boredom, but he also did it to settle his nerves.

He kept telling himself shouldn’t be worried. There was no reason to be. After all, none of his previous assignments had gone awry. They weren’t very difficult either. Someone would catch important prisoners in newly annexed kingdoms, and they would need to be transported into official Empire lands for “Safe keeping”. All Eli had to do was load prisoners into the back of the cart, and take them all the way back to the other side of the borders. Simple.

At least, it should be.

He figured his best bet would be to act confident, arrogant perhaps. That way, even if he was worried, he can just fake some courage until he finds some of the real thing.  As Eli made his fourth ‘final check’, the door slammed open with a tremendous for, startling Eli out of his skin. When he turned to look he saw a large, grisly looking man step outside.

“So yer the rookie they signed me with this time.” he grumbled as he shuffled his way toward Eli. “Yeh better be a good one, else I’ll have to teach yeh a lesson just like the last two.”

“Maybe I’m just here for the pay. Maybe I don’t care whether you think I’m good or not.” Eli replied with a grin.

The old man huffed to himself. “Just shut up and get on. We’re already late.”

Eli quickly decided that he despised this man’s attitude. He dreaded to even imagine the trip that was ahead of him. Despite this, he knew that what he was doing was important. He wouldn’t want to screw it up now just because of one grouchy old timer. Even if it would be painful, he’d just have to endure. Eli helped the brusque man up onto the front bench of the carriage, and then walked around to seat himself. He snapped the reins, and his two horses began to pull the cart away from the barracks. They continued through the streets of the city on their way to the local prison.

The two men sat in an intense silence. Despite traveling through busy streets and near  bustling markets, Eli’s nervous feelings slowly began to return the longer he sat next to the stranger. After a few minutes, the old man finally spoke. “Everyone calls me Brandy, if you care to know. How’s about yusself, lad?”

“Eli.”

“hmph, alright.”

Eli waited for a further reply. He fidgeted with the reins in his hands as the heavy quiet returned once again. When he realized the man wasn’t going to continue, he wondered if he should start speaking instead. Perhaps if he lightened the mood, he could work get rid of some of Brandy’s poor attitude. “So is Brandy your real name? Or did you knock back one too many glasses on a night out?” He asked with a sort of deadpan humor.

When he didn’t receive a reply, Eli glanced over and noticed that Brandy had his eyes closed. Aside from his slow breathing, the old man made no other move. Eli wondered whether he was being ignored, or if the Brandy had already fallen completely asleep. Eli sighed internally. Great. Not only am I going to have to listen to his cranky prattle when he’s awake, I gotta lug him around when he’s asleep too. I’m getting real sick of all the crap I deal with on these jobs. Next time she asks me t-

“It is a nickname. And I would watch yer jokes there lad. It might sound silly to yeh, but I am quite proud of the name.”

Eli was jolted out of his thoughts at the sudden response to his question. “Is that so?”

“I got it during my earlier years of constant service. I’ve always been working hard to ensure our Empire’s greatness, since before we were even an empire.”

“You’re a full-blooded loyalist, then?” Eli asked.

“And proud of it! I’ve been crushing rebels since before that ‘Great Fall’ of theirs. Boy, was it great alright. Watching those fools getting put in their place was one of the best moments of my life.”

Eli was confused of who these ‘rebels’ were. “Are you… talking about the members of the Grand Knight Order?”

Brandy gave a look of disgusted shock for a moment. His face quickly changed to realization, then utter amusement. He burst out laughing.

“HA! Grand Knight Order, he says!” Brandy roared, “Ain’t that a riot! And I’d be bettin’ that you grew up with stories of their ‘heroics’ too!” Although the elderly man had a smile on his face, it was not a pleasant.

“Well, even now they still seem like the perfect stories for children. Also, this was before they were exposed. You can’t blame me for believing in the Gold Knights when everyone else did too.”

“Listen son, you ain’t gonna last much longer around here of you keep talking like that. We here in the empire knew what they were before everyone else found out. Just call ‘em what they are; damn, filthy rebels that are stuck in outdated tradition. They’re just a bunch of fakes who are afraid of a good, strong power making some serious and much needed changes around here.”

“I don’t necessarily think…” Eli hesitated.

Brandy cut him off. “Save it lad. Different topic for a different moment. Besides, we’ll be riding together for a couple weeks, I’m sure we’ll have a moment to talk if it’s itchin’ ya.”

He straightened himself to sit upright. “Now, back to the topic at hand. Why do they call me Brandy, you ask? Simply put, it was part of my job.”

After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he continued. “You see, back in the day, your ‘Grand Knights’ still had a decent bit o’ power. On top of that, this was back when the empire was only one country, and a rather small one at that.”

Eli was genuinely surprised at this information. “You’re saying you served before Regal Bindings?” he asked.

“Yeah, so what? I know I’m old, no need to rub it in. Just hush up yer mouth while I’m telling my story. Where was I…” Brandy took a few more moments before continuing. “That’s right. You see, at the time, our country didn’t have the power or support to start arresting the knights outright. Too many people believed in the rebels. So when we needed info, we’d send a Shadow to ‘acquire’ an individual of some import. Now, being a Shadow is a horse of a different color, I would know. But all that is beside the point. All you need to know is that the Shadows sent the prisoners to me, and that’s where my work really began.”

Brandy opened his mouth to continue, but stopped when he looked ahead. “We’re here, lad.”

Eli had already had his eyes on the compound the second it came into view. While not exceptionally tall, the large stone walls created an imposing image. The guards gave the carriage a nod as they passed through the gate.

“Look over there. I guess they already brought the bastards out” Brandy said.

Eli looked over the group of prisoners lined against the far wall. Ten prisoners in all; seven men, three women, and two large guards stood at the ends of the line. Every one shackled, and covered in a variety of bruises and cuts. Each had a look of broken hope and despair plastered on their faces. They slouched as they stood, not raising their gazes from the ground. Eli could see their posture was most likely due to the injuries, though he wondered how broken their spirits were as well. As he brought the carriage parallel to the prisoner line, he did his best to direct his gaze at anything that wasn’t the tortured souls.

A younger looking guard stepped away from the line and up to the carriage. “We were expecting you much earlier. The jailor wanted these ones out already, so we’ve been sitting here waiting for you.”

Brandy spoke first. “Aye lad, I’ll take the blame for that. Took me longer than expected to prepare myself this morning. Didn’t cause too much trouble, did I?”

“No Sir, most the prisoners have been quite tame.” The soldier gestured towards the prisoners. “We did have one that tried to run when we brought the group out. He hardly even made it to the gate before he got stuck with an arrow.”

Brandy gave a satisfied nod “Good riddance I say. Still, shame I held up the schedule a bit. I still got good muscles in these here arms, but my legs aren’t the same.” He accentuated the statement with a gentle pat on his legs. Eli noted that his expression looked quite forlorn, most likely reminiscing about his youth. Now that it was being mentioned Eli decided to take a closer look at the aged man. He found that there was a definite truth in Brandy’s statement. He had solid arms that boldly spoke of strength despite his age. His legs, however, told a different story. Rather scrawny compared to his larger upper body, his legs looked sickly and slightly mangled. It almost looked as if, over the course of years, they had been broken and poorly fixed numerous times. Frankly, as far as Eli knew, that could have been exactly what happened.

Brandy spent another moment in thought, then looked back up at the guard. “Hows about we get this show on the road then, right lad? Get those wastes of space loaded in back and we’ll be off”

“Of course, sir. If you could hand us the keys, we will take care of the boarding.” The guard held out his hand expectantly. Eli reached around to his side and unhooked the keyring. He tossed the keys to the guard and watch as they began manhandling the line of prisoners towards the cart.

Brandy eyed the setting sun on the horizon and frowned. He pulled a match from one of his pockets and reached up for the lantern hanging from a hook on the carriage. Eli merely stayed seated. He considered starting a conversation, but dismissed the idea as everyone else was involved in their own activity. The only sounds were that of the guards roughly putting all the prisoners into the cage on the carriage, accompanied by Brandy’s muffled fiddling with the light.

Finally, Brandy lit the wick and set the lantern back on the hook. “Bah. Anyways, long story short, I used a brand.”

“What?” Eli wasn’t sure what he was referring to.

“I used a brand on those special individuals to get them to talk. Then a feller I worked with thought it’d be cute to call me Brandy. I didn’t really mind, I was proud of my job. In fact, it eventually became a feared name to anyone we captured. I was pretty good with a bar of hot metal back then.” He smugly grinned as he recalled his past.

Eli did his best to hide his disgust. “That’s really grim. Don’t you have any regrets of torturing people?”

“Don’t give me that look boy. I might’ve had regrets if I had done it to people who were any sorts decent. Those rebels ain’t decent by any measure, so I got no problem with it.”

Brandy looked away sniffed disdainfully. He faced Eli and leaned in closely. “Listen, even if it was good folk we were workin’ over, I would still do it. I would do anything for our empire. Always have. Always will.” He leaned away from Eli, and reclined against the back of the seat. All the while he never broke eye contact, and he maintained a look of set determination on his face.

“Sir?”

Both Eli and Brandy turned to look. It was the older guard this time. He held out his hand, offering the keys to the cage door. Brandy reached out and took them from the guard and handed them back to Eli.

“Alright lad, are we good to go?”

“Just about, sir” The guard responded. He pointed towards an area around the corner of the prison compound. “The captain is getting the horses. He should be done now, and then you can leave.” Without any sort of dismissal, the guard turned and met with his companion as they walked into the prison.

Just then, three men riding horses turned around the corner of the building and made their way towards the carriage. The two men on the sides wore simple and sturdy looking armor with swords at their sides. They were soldiers escorting a man riding between them. The man in the center wore well-polished and decorative armor, with and an elegant curved sword in his scabbard. The captain.

Alarms immediately fired off in Eli’s head. A captain? What for? No other assignment he had been on required the presence of a captain. Did they have additional instructions after the job? He fought off the initial urge to panic and whispered to the other driver.

“H-hey Brandy. I, uh… could you remind me what we need the captain for?” He asked, desperately trying to keep his nerves in check.

Brandy returned the question with a quizzical look of his own. “Lord boy, do you just clog yer ears when superiors are giving yeh the details of yer work? They’re here for some extra muscle. A couple of other convoys have been raided in these past months. Hopefully, some extra measures will stop it.”

Eli’s heart could not decide if it wanted to beat twice as fast, or to stop beating altogether.

The captain and his two guards stopped in front of the carriage. “Gentlemen.” He spoke. “It looks as if everything is in order. We shall depart immediately then. This way.” He quickly turned back around and began leading the way out of the prison compound.

The older driver held out his hands. “Gimme the reins. I need something to keep my hands busy. ‘idle hands and the devils work’ and all that nonsense.”

Eli, almost completely pale with anxiety, tried to hand over the ropes with haste. His now worry-clumsy fingers tangled and untangled themselves with little progress. Eventually Brandy was fed up enough to just snatch them right out of Eli’s hands. He shook his head and gave the reins a purposeful snap.

“yer going to be a real handful, ain’tcha?”

Eli simply nodded as he did not trust his voice to speak for him. His hands tightly clamped onto each other in an attempt to hide their shaking. Eli kept telling himself that he had to stay calm. He had to adjust to the new circumstances. He had to complete the mission. He had to. But deep in the back of his mind he knew that something felt wrong.

He knew this was not going to end well.