The Arrival Of The Induction Carriage

The familiar high pitch whistle of a Council “Firstline” carriage is heard before it rounds a corner and changes direction directly towards you. A black steel ox with dim red eyes pulls the carriage to a stop a few feet from you, steam discharging from it’s nostrils. The driver, an elderly half-elf, raises a clipboard of loose pages, squints down his glasses and shouts out your name, clear but mispronouncing the easier portion of it.

_The driver pulls a lever and the luggage doors snap open, he twists another lever and the carriage door swings aside, revealing a six seat compartment. Inside the standard gray military decorated cabin, people recline in the shade of the drawn windows. As you climb inside the cabin, the inhabitants begin to introduce each other. Stacked on a small table and being read by some of the passengers are various publications of the realms.

The carriage doors slam shut and you hear the mechanical ox grunt as the cabin lurches foreword, the force dropping you into your seat. You try to make yourself comfortable in the rigidly firm seat, knowing you have a week’s travel ahead of you before you reach the Induction Ceremony.

The Arrival Of The Induction Carriage

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