ThisIsntNotJT

Chapter 1 - August 6th, 1986 Alice Auma stood as a woman for a brief moment in the streets of Gulu, Uganda, staring at the cart which stood in front of her home. Her hands trembled at the site of nearly a dozen young boys piled lifelessly, limbs and heads hanging limp from the wooden framing. The donkeys stood silently as they waited for their master, as though they knew the sad account of their cargo. Up and down the narrow street people went about their business, dust kicked off the ground marking each of them while keeping track of the bicycles and trucks in the distance. The sun beat down on the heads of passers-by, the town unprotected

Isaak Brauer took another glance through the sight of his long rifle, knowing the enemy would be in range at any moment. His handgunners were itching and nervous, a dangerous thing considering the devices in their hands. It wasn’t the same as leading a unit of crossbowmen; if one of their weapons fired early, you would be missing a finger or an eye, or perhaps just an impaled limb or jaw. If a handgun went off unexpectedly you have quite a mess. Isaak had seen a man last year double check his packing. Then he triple checked it. It was on the quadruple check that the gun became few up with its master, rebelling in a cloud of smoke and bra

Since I left Tilea to seek my fortune in Nuln, responding to the letter of a man named Brendis who claimed to be the friend and partner of my recently deceased uncle, I have witnessed a great many things I doubt most of my kinsmen would have hoped to see in their lifetime. It's true that my people are well known, some would say infamous, for our love of trade and travel. Unfortunately this is a simple stereotype, a brand placed upon the actions of our mercenaries and merchants, their reputations more prevalent than their actions. It's a tool we Tileans use to work our way into advantageous and profitable positions; our word is our favored wea