Sep 15, 2026 · 1 hr 4 min · 12 segments
Dropping into the feed to spread the news about a friend of the show! Created by Connor Bushoven, *Welcome to the Brass Eagle* follows a teleporting tavern and the dangers its inhabitants face in…
Miles pass as the caravan travels day and night away from the city of Tabria.
One night, ahead of the wagons, the road stretches ever on, and as the wheel of her car catches on a rut, Amara is shaken awake.
She mutters a curse and tries to regain her position on the thin mattress, but falls silent when she glances over at Vega's bunk.
The other performer is still asleep, invisible beneath a messy pile of quilts and blankets that rise and fall with each breath.
With no one to talk to, she turns to her thoughts.
The first week on the road has been hard on her.
Her fingers ache from long hours of rehearsal, her muscles sore from the rigorous training of unfamiliar dance routines.
Compounding on that, the cramped interior, uncomfortable bedding, and the ever-present rocking of the wagon have slowly chipped away at her resolve and left her feeling ragged and hollow.
Her mind races, and her heart pounds as she thinks of the night's upcoming performance, her thoughts tinged with dread.
She is roused from her wallowing by the sound of a whistle and the whinnying of horses as the caravan begins to slow.
The wagon train rumbles to a stop, and she hears movement as Vega stirs to life.
We're finally stopping.
Oh, good.
Good.
You rested up, kid? Big night ahead.
Yeah, I...
I'm good.
Doesn't sound like it.
What's on your mind? I've been...
thinking a lot... about things.
My family...
I don't know if I'm actually... supposed to be here.
What makes you say that? I just...
I don't feel good enough.
I've been practicing non-stop, but I haven't gotten any better.
Miles pass as the caravan travels day and night away from the city of Tabria.
One night, ahead of the wagons, the road stretches ever on, and as the wheel of her car catches on a rut, Amara is shaken awake.
She mutters a curse and tries to regain her position on the thin mattress, but falls silent when she glances over at Vega's bunk.
The other performer is still asleep, invisible beneath a messy pile of quilts and blankets that rise and fall with each breath.
With no one to talk to, she turns to her thoughts.
The first week on the road has been hard on her.
Her fingers ache from long hours of rehearsal, her muscles sore from the rigorous training of unfamiliar dance routines.
Compounding on that, the cramped interior, uncomfortable bedding, and the ever-present rocking of the wagon have slowly chipped away at her resolve and left her feeling ragged and hollow.
Her mind races, and her heart pounds as she thinks of the night's upcoming performance, her thoughts tinged with dread.
She is roused from her wallowing by the sound of a whistle and the whinnying of horses as the caravan begins to slow.
The wagon train rumbles to a stop, and she hears movement as Vega stirs to life.
We're finally stopping.
Oh, good.
Good.
You rested up, kid? Big night ahead.
Yeah, I...
I'm good.
Doesn't sound like it.
What's on your mind? I've been...
thinking a lot... about things.
My family...
I don't know if I'm actually... supposed to be here.
What makes you say that? I just...
I don't feel good enough.
I've been practicing non-stop, but I haven't gotten any better.
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