The Two Guards

"They're all nothin' but trouble makers. The lot of those folks." Owen sunk deeper into his chair as dusk slowly set. He looked at this younger friend. Lefty was decades younger, but stuck manning the old and crumbling walls of Saltmarsh because of his affliction. Owen had heard rumors about how the young man lost his hand, but hadn't bothered to ask.

"Ain't the same as it used to be."

"Light of the wrong moon." He spat, shaking his head slowly. "First the dwarves come in. Then they put a bunch of their folk on our town board. Hell, why did the king wanna stick his nose in a little town like this? And now strange folk can't help but show up. Ratcatchers with nothin' better to do than steal and plunder. Carrying weapons openly. This was a peaceful town when I grew up here. Nothin' but fresh air and fishin'." Owen looked off far into the distance, not seeing the horizon but a better time.

Lefty nodded. "I just wish things went back to bein' a bit more peaceful. Don't like all the turmoil and folks gettin' so worked up. Certainly doesn't help with these odd types showing up now. Suppose that's how the world is movin' though, ain't it? Turning with or without us, hell."

"Won't be no peace with all these outsiders. Ain't the same no mo'. Not the way I see it. Best we can do now is keep our head down and get our jobs done." Owen pulled out the bottle of brandy he kept stashed at the bottom of the guard post. He took a sip, and passed it to Left who did the same. "Haunted houses. Strange folk. Them strange scaled folk. Sheesh."