"Your friend, the bard. Is actually quite good." Oz said as his brother grunted in agreement.

As soon as the troop entered the establishment, named simply "A Pub". Jorun went to the barkeep and asked to play. After a quick showing of his skill and some finagling of his price, the bard entered his first gig. At first the winds only whispered as his diddle was nothing more than background drinking music.

"He hasn't stopped practicing since he picked up the damn thing." Kenan said. He lifted the large cup in front of him. Noctis made eye contact with Doco, his uncle shrugged. Tipping the tankard, his countenance crunched to a cringe when his tongue met the bitter, wheat filled taste of beer. Kenan set the cup down, trying his best to hide his face.

Ozzy audibly laughed, making the most sound since Noctis had met him. "You'll stop tasting it eventually" Oz said. He leaned forward, using his shoulders as something of a barrier to contain his words. “Say Kenan, is it true that you killed an orc? In the plains.”

Noctis looked at Doco, who curtly nodded. Kenan understood the reasoning, shared hatred is the equivalence of shared trust. “Yes. A green-skinned named Roshu.”

Oz’s eyes widened for a moment. “The bloodzeker? Impressive.” Ozzy grunted in agreement.

“Now can you tell me how you knew my name, and that I killed an orc?” Noctis leaned back and tried another sip. As bad as the last.

“Some dingo came around preaching about a reaper or somethin. Couldn’t make heads or tails of it until the guard calmed him down. He claimed a kid, named Kenan Noctis of the Sorrowful Night, with a black sword and blacker eyes came to kill anything and everything.” Kenan and Doco shared a very worried look. At the feet of his master, Dion felt Noctis’ unease. While not moving an inch, his muscles tensed, ready. “Well, he really tried to get the guard to set up a bounty and what not. There almost was. Then about seven people from the plains came, looking to sell goods. They said you were the opposite, well sorta. A dark vestige to take all evil and vile down back with him.” Noctis didn’t think the second opinion was much better.

The winds picked up. Many people were seated and more were coming in. Much of the food and nicer alcohol was put away. Grog was being poured for men to swill as they cared less and less about what they actually drank, as long as it got the job done. Jorun’s song picked it’s pace up to energize the crowd. Getting them rowdy to the point of drinking more. Yet, instead of the crowd getting aggressive or violent, they became friendly and stupid. As if the song was a baptism to wash away all the built up pressure of the past grizzly days.

“Well, that raving mad guy has been in the dungeon for a few weeks now. After the help you gave today, he’ll probably stay there until they find his skeleton a couple years from now.” Oz looked around, just to get a good sense of the area. “What is the Zorain Hero doing in Banburn, and is the Auditamor active again?”

Doco finished his drink and loudly tapped the empty cup twice, a waitress came and quickly took it. “To the second question, not quite. As for the first.” He shrugged at Kenan, shoving off the responsibility.

Noctis looked around, and again. He squirmed in unease. “Don’t worry Ken’.” Oz began. “The ears around here are too worried trying to hear the slosh of bear coming their way. Too much has happened for them to be able to try to eavesdrop.”

Kenan hunched over. Trying to find the area between hiding his voice but being loud enough to be heard by half-giants. “The orcs have… invaded Gethen. Shio to our knowledge too, but we can’t say how deep they are. Tulgon has commanded to weaken the nations behind the fronts of war.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The half-giant brothers looked at each. Noctis noticed the complete lack of surprise on their faces. “That, well, makes some things make sense.” Oz said

“What?” Kenan looked between the two.

“Looks like we're going to stay here for a few days, nephew.” Doco said. Confusion further bloomed on Noctis’ face. “I suspected it, but I couldn’t actually make sure. The thing infecting the animals, making them stronger and crazy, is orc shaman magic.”

Kenan leaned backward and huffed. “Of course it is.” He quickly took another swig of the rancid liquid. He was surprised with it’s taste. It was different, less potent.

***

The door opened eerily. As if purposely rusted and oil neglected to help produce the dark feeling of the area. Underneath of the guards barracks, was a large, complex dungeon. Mostly they held drunkards and petty thieves. Occasionally rapists, murders and other dangerous offenders. It was said the deeper they were placed, the worse the crime was committed.

Kenan was thankful that the guard appreciated his help in the gathering of wounded. If it wasn’t for him, many of their brothers would be dead and on a pyre. Also, the stories of his encounter with Roshu gave him a measure of respect. Not in the sense of authority, but of danger. It didn’t matter, because it meant the same. The combination of those two reasons led to a much easier time asking for a visit to the dungeons.

Oz helped too, putting in sweet words into the right ears. He and his brother had been aiding Banburns efforts against the mutated monsters for weeks now and had gained positions as honorary guardsmen, as Oz put it. Doco said they were more like contracted mercenaries. It didn’t matter, the effect was the same.

Besides the torch of the solemn escorting guard, there was no light. Kenan followed an unnamed guard and the large Oz. Dion followed at his master's side. Through their connection Noctis felt the dirus’ animalistic instinct of unease, and through it was a request. “When is his cell?” He asked the two ahead.

“Bout’ five cells.” The guardsmen answered. Oz nodded.

“Hold up.” Noctis stopped walking. “Do you mind If I go ahead? Alone?” The two stopped and turned.

“What’s the reason?” Oz asked. Dion growled. Kenan checked the air, sniffing at it. Moss, stone, dirty humans, feces, and death. Underneath it, laced between the scents, undetected to normal sentient senses, was the stench of rot.

“Trouble.”

“You can’t kill him.” The guard warned.

“I won’t.” Kenan said. Oz shrugged and whispered to his companion. Who also shrugged. The goliath nodded. Noctis stepped forward between the unnamed human and the Ram-Lord creation. He was offered the torch, in which he declined by simply walking into the darkness.

At first he was unsure of himself, as after a few seconds he assumed that he was still in the torch's radiance. When he realized the previously colored moss and other shade grown greenery had turned to a gradient of gray, he marveled at his dirus given night vision. Yet, his amazement was tempered. There was a feeling that tried to take over, find, hunt and kill. Noctis had to actively peel back the emotion, and pull Dion from the edge. Not only that, but the rot was setting off all of Kenan’s danger senses.

The duo slinked further into the darkness. When they passed the third cell, a pit grew inside of Kenan's stomach. Vines started where some of the moss should have been and the rotting smell grew to a constant. When they got to the fifth, he drew out his sword. The halls were infested in vines and who-whatever resided in the cell no longer was there. As the vines pulled back the thick iron bars to make room for a body. In fact, peering deeper into the dungeon, he could see all of them were.

The dirus looked at his master. Another request was sent. With it received and understood, Kenan let it happen. Noctis and Dion barred their teeth, let their noses guide them, and crouched low so the darkness could aid them. As for a split second Kenan lost rational thought for a beastial notion. Kenan saw a sliver of power be introduced to him and Dion's as a guiding force. Noctis didn’t know who or what gave it. The dirus did, he knew the Amarok was not happy with forces tampering with nature's flow.