The dead man’s head sat on Kenan's lap for a long while. He felt, in a different sense other than mana and physical touch, the man’s soul leave his body. As the essence escaped its confines of flesh, Noctis used mana to grab it, and leave his mark before letting it go. Doing these actions on instinct that went deeper than the most animistic part of his psyche. He knew, somehow, that this person was going to escape Nonesthic and arrive in his paradise unmitigated.

A large hand landed on his shoulder. “Notin’ you could’ve done mate.” Kenan heard.

“I know.” Noctis responded. “Just honoring his soul.” He heard a grunt in appreciation behind him. The body that belonged to the hand kneeled, head down and silent. Noctis felt another do the same to his other side.

Eventually, Kenan laid the head back down. Then stood from his knees. The other two did the same. Noctis finally got to look at them without the haze of adrenaline. Both of them were huge. 8 to 9 feet tall. They were as wide as they were tall. They each wore a gallimaufry of thick leather and hides. Their skin is faintly gray with symmetrical vertical black lines originating from their eyes. One was completely bald, while the other had thick dreadlocks tied back.

Kenan took a few steps back so he could properly look them in the face. Hesitation crept it’s way to him gripping his sword. The last person he saw that was remotely this big was green, ugly, and dead. “You're wicked.” the haired one said. “You human?”

“Are you?” Noctis said, slowly backing up even more.

The two gray-skinned looked at each other. The bald one grunted. “No. Well, partly. Half-giant. Man, your eyes are badass.”

“Half-giant?”

“Goliaths.” A voice said behind Noctis. Kenan gave a quick glance behind him. Doco on his horse and Jefned’s reins in his hands. “They lived in Shrigor. Tulgon tried to annex them into his horde. Their stone giant blood didn’t allow for that. Similar to the orcs, for the first time all of the goliath tribes formed into a singular mass.”

The haired goliath spat on the ground. He accidentally hit a dead person on the forehead. “Sorry mate.” With his foot he wiped the saliva off. “Would’ve won if it wasn’t for the ogres. “

Doco began to get off his steed. Giz and Jorun came up from behind. “Once the ogres were convinced to join the horde, things started to go down for the previously winning goliaths. If they had a better reproductive rate, well, they would’ve won. Now, they are protected in both Shio and Gethen. Some are adventurers, others mercenaries, most are still in a large force sticking thorns into Tulgon’s side. All hate orcs.”

“Don’t forget the ogres, or the goblins. Also the atla, I don’t like those fuckers especially.” The haired one responded once again. The other grunted in agreement.

“Atla?” Noctis turned towards his uncle. He let his guard drop under the information of shared hatred.

“Ugly and mean creatures. Another time.” Doco switched his gaze to the speaking half-giant. “The atla have joined the horde of Shrigor?”

“Yeah. Only last year or so. More like an unsteady alliance. Heard talks of duergar and drowes too. Apparently they tried the drengr also. Well, that went as well as you could imagine.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Drengr? Duergar and drowes?” Kenan continued to ask.

Doco was about to speak again when the half-giant intervened. “The three dicks of the Underdark. Look, it’s great and all that we're talking about our enemies. But like, we still got work to do and we haven’t even shared names yet.”

With his gaze still on his uncle, Noctis watched Doco nod at him. Kenan looked towards the goliaths. “That is Jorun.” He pointed to the bard, who was busy detangling himself from Giz. “That's Doco. My uncle. I’m Kenan Noctis.”

The two half-giants looked at each other in surprise. “I’m Oz.” The haired one said. “That’s Ozzy.” Oz bumped the bald one. “Wait. Doco? As in Doco Auditamor?”

Kenan’s uncle sighed. “Afraid so.” Noctis looked at his uncle in confusion, Doco waved it down.

“And like, Kenan Noctis of the Sorrowful Night?” Oz asked once again.

“Yup.” Noctis responded. Jorun laughed. Then stopped, as his heel was nipped by the upcoming large dirus.

“That’s a wicked wolf.” Oz said. Ozzy got big eyes and suddenly looked a lot less intimidating. ”What do you lads say about getting drinks later? Swap orc killing stories too”

“Drinks, as in an inn?” Jorun said, coming up alongside Kenan.

“More like a pub.”

“Will they still allow a bard to play?”

“Well yeah…”

“Yes, we're going.” Jorun cut the gray-skinned off.

“No hold on…” Kenan began.

“Nope, we're going.”

Noctis looked back at his uncle, who shrugged. Suddenly Dion sneezed, sending a small fireball hurtling between the heads of Oz and Ozzy. The goliath's jaws dropped in amazement. “Wicked.”

***

Doco and Jorun went ahead into town, trying to find a proper inn to stay the night. Also searching for a stable for the steeds. Kenan chose to stay and help with the battlefield clean up. The townspeople either didn’t care for his eyes, or they were too ridden with depression and loss they couldn’t give much thought to it. Whatever the reason, Noctis was thankful they didn’t want to hang his black eyes as soon as he delivered a corpse.

He formed a team with the two goliaths. It was actually quite nice to be in a group with two other people who got stares. The impromptu alliance proved to be quite useful. With both Kenan’s and Dion’s senses, they were able to easily pick apart the battlefield for the wounded instead of the dead. With the enormous strength of Oz and Ozzy, the lifting of such paralyzed people was a breeze.

Soon, people still alive became harder and harder to find. They circled the wall twice without finding another before they decided their work was done. The new group started to walk into Banburn. “Oi’, Kenan.” Oz started.

“Yes?”

“My brother wanted to know… god's this is going to sound odd. He wanted to know if you wanted a tattoo.”

“Ummm.” Noctis cocked his head in confusion. “No.” Ozzy grunted in response.

“I know Ozzy. Sorry, I should explain a little bit further. You see all the black shit on our skin?”

“Yeah.”

“Not tattoos. Natural. However, in each goliath there is a spot that is blank. Just gray.” Oz began to say. Ozzy Grunted. “I know, brother. Anyway, in our, uhh, way. We get names, true names. We call them Nomens. We get them when we do something. That something changes for each person, right. See, in our tradition, when a goliath gets their true name, that blank space is filled with a tattoo according to the nomen. Ozzy here is a goliath tattoo artist.”

“I still don’t understand why I would want a tattoo.”

“Right. I forgot. A goliath has the ability to sense Nomens. When we heard your name, we sensed a true name. As tradition, all Nomens get tattoos.”

“Oh. I mean… Can I think about it?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Ozzy grunted. Oz punched his brother in the shoulder. “Ozzy agreed.”