Doombringer's Delight
The soot colored mare bobbed up and down as it moved forward. Castor sat in the saddle, confused. As he moved with the horse, the landscape seemed to spin around him, the mare was going in a circle. Even more concerning was the complete lack of any signs of life from the animal. He put his hand on the mare's neck and recoiled in horror. What should have been firm horse-flesh covered in fur was in fact hard, smooth, and somewhat glossy. Glancing behind him, Castor saw the muzzle of another horse less than half a meter away, it's mouth frozen open mid-whinny. Crying out in terror, Castor lurched forward in his saddle and found that it too was made of a glossy hard material. Unable to find purchase, he pitched off the saddle and fell to the ground, where he curled in a ball, squeezing his eyes shut, waiting to be trampled.
After a few moments without sustaining any hoof related injuries, Castor slowly opened his eyes and was immediately assaulted by the desire to vomit. The world continued to spin around him, as if he were being towed by his horse in a morbid circle. Looking up, he could see a canopy filled with rotating, twisting rods leading to the canopy's center where a pillar filled with fairy-light and mirrors blasted an enchanting melody. Castor stood shakily, grasping a metal rod that extended vertically from the ground, or rather, the metal platform. His mind churned, evaluating his situation; he was clearly a captive in some sort of devilish prison meant to disorient and frighten it's occupants. Smugly, Castor quietly congratulated himself for being able to see through the convoluted machinations of whomever had imprisoned him. Turning his gaze back toward the passing landscape, his nausea immediately returned and he vomited unceremoniously on his boots.
Having managed to pull himself into what appeared to be the upper half of an open air carriage fixed to the platform, Castor was calmly trying to overcome his frustration. He was utterly unable to look away from the center of the prison, lest the nausea return. However, he could not afford to tarry; a city guard had only that morning arrived at his manor with summons from the duke. Castor was certain that the summons meant that he was to be dispatched to… to… he could not recall. Furrowing his brow, he wracked his mind, trying to recall any details of the day following the guard's departure. Nothing, a murky haze of confusion obfuscated any recollection of the day's events. Frustration quickly giving way to panic, Castor attempted to steal another look out at the landscape. More retching, this time over the side of the carriage. He was even unable to discern his location; this was a devilish prison indeed.
Keeping his eyes firmly on the spinning platform, Castor exited the carriage and took awkward, cautious steps sideways until he reached his mare. To his disappointment, he found that this facsimile of his own horse, Doombringer, did not carry his saddlebags. He shuffled uncertainly to the side, slowly circling the platform. Some of the horses bore blocky protrusions that resembled tack, but none had any means of carrying anything useful. Finding another carriage (or perhaps it was the same one), Castor sat and dejectedly shoved his hands in his pockets. His left hand met something hard and round. Curious, he withdrew the object and held it out in his palm to inspect it. A small black orb etched with arcane markings lay in his hand, glowing softly with a faint purple hue. Castor carefully picked the orb up with his fingers and gave it a cautious shake. Despite the blasting music of the prison, he could distinctly hear the sound of a woman shouting incoherently coming from the orb.
Lifting it carefully, Castor brought the orb up to the sunlight, trying to glimpse what it may contain. He inadvertently caught a brief view of the endlessly spinning landscape instead. Doubling over, Castor desperately tried to suppress the urge to be separated from whatever remained in his stomach. His sudden motion brought his hand sharply against the side of the carriage, causing him to drop the orb. Crying out in dismay, Castor reached out to the orb as it hit the hard metal of the platform and shattered.
A cloud of purple mist billowed out of the fractured orb and Castor found himself confronted with the tiny form of a wood sprite who was shouting angrily at him. “Ere now, listen!” she huffed. “You shake me around like that again and I'll go back to the forest.” Castor felt some of the haze leaving his mind. “You're, uh… you're Diasta!” he recalled excitedly. “Oh gods! It is so good to see you!” Diasta gave him a flat stare. “Yeah, very good. I am glad to see ya too. Ya could be a mite more gentle with me next time you find me in yer pocket though.” Immediately, Castor began to apologize. “Sorry, sorry. I had no idea you were in there. In fact, up until just now, I didn't even remember you existed. I am not entirely sure how we came to be here.” Diasta crinkled he nose at that. “I see. Well, I suppose that makes sense, seeing what happened with you and Kait.” Castor furrowed his brow. The name was familiar, but too distant for him to reach. Seeing the look of consternation on Castor's face, Diasta let out an exaggerated sigh. “She's the sorceress ya had dinner with yesterday. I didn't overhear what ya said to her, but she got up real mad and stormed out.” Castor's ears flushed, he was beginning to remember the conversation, and how much ale he had consumed before that.
Diasta continued, clearly enjoying Castor's embarrassment. “Well, this morn, while ya were makin yer way to the dukes manor she stopped ya and yelled something about not wantin to be on the same planet as ya. After that I was stuck in that bauble yellin my head off at ya to let me out.” Castor shook his head. “I see, well I don't suppose you can get us back? I still have to meet with the duke.” Diastra haughtily put her hands on her hips. “Of course I can, idiot. Now, squeeze yer eyes shut, I won't have ya pukin on me while I tow ya back.” Castor nodded, shut his eyes tightly, and abruptly winked out of existence.
At the entrance of the park, a woman stood with her mouth agape, her young daughter at her side. The girl tugged her mother's sleeve. “Mommy? I don't think I want to ride the merry-go-round anymore.” The woman nodded slowly. “I think that is probably a good idea, let's go find a playground instead.” The two turned, and the woman looked over her shoulder at the carousel. She was certain she could almost hear faint laughter echoing from the horses.