The loud calls around, emboldened by adrenaline and aggressive vigour rocked Trodden as he was held by one of the soldiers.
He saw the cheering, well-built men and women that shouted with their fists raised and quivered in the wake of their collective valour.
The pride and joy burning in the hearts of the soldiers before him was a marvel that he had not needed while trying to fasten the remainders of his courage.
The remnants of his hope.
For this night was written to be his last.
After the bald man had informed his soldiers of the good news, he then addressed the centrepiece of the good news, the one who sparked the early incitation of this merry, all eyes turning to stab at Trodden who shrank under.
"This man is the sacrifice that the lord has chosen. He shall be kept here for the night. Treat him as you would a rat at the end of its life," Derrecks said with a sneer.
Raucous laughter boomed from the soldiers.
For they saw Trodden as naught but one of the many anomalies in the Outer Ring.
Derrecks turned to a few other soldiers and whispered to them instruction.
These soldiers then gazed at Trodden and nodded towards Derrecks, acknowledging his words.
There were roughly eleven buildings, some larger than others as they appeared to be where the soldiers lived while others were for formal gatherings.
One of the larger buildings was a prison where offenders who broke the law would be held, the differences in their crimes warranting different punishment, from starvation to whipping to skewering.
Beside the barracks was a large construct in a shape similar to a coliseum, but with an olden build.
Rough, broken and pale blocks made its height and girth but it looked too fragile for use.
For the strength that the men and women who had used it exhibited, far exceeded its maximum tolerance.
Trodden was dragged over to one of the buildings by the soldiers who had been addressed by Derrecks, the cruel and callous gazes of malicious men that had lost the light roaming over him.
This was made more unnerving when Trodden spotted the portions of their bodies that featured hard, brown barks, symbolising their ties to an obscure power which he did not fully understand.
His vision darkened as they entered a place that reeked of rotting flesh and human waste, the young man's eyes turning watery as they were overcome and burnt by the vile mix which created a profound stink.
Unlit torches nested in arc-shaped bars attached to the cold and grey walls, this being visible to Trodden only a few paces into the building where the lights from outside illuminated.
Small, barred cells littered either side of the corridor that Trodden and the three soldiers that went with him passed, within them grotesque figures that gasped for air or emitted low grunts of extreme pain.
Trodden could not see their faces nor their bodies but the unholy melodies that spawned from their voices echoed enough for him to know that they were barely living, trudging the borders of life in death as their flayed and skewered flesh screeched.
The party descended down a flight of stairs at the end of the long corridor that led into an even darker space with an eerie silence that caused Trodden to hyperventilate.
It was cold for a space hidden underneath and it was only by the guidance of the soldiers that Trodden navigated, feeling the endless stretch of hard steps that descended into an unknown place.
No matter how long the party trekked, the young man could not find his vision adjusting to the dark. Everything before him remained pitch black.
After what seemed like an eternity, Trodden's ears finally picked up something that wasn't their footsteps and breaths.
A shrill noise like the growl of a rabid dog.
Then another... and another.
The tumultuous sounds of potentially tens of these creatures that called echoed in the cold and dark, the clanging of thick iron being heard as whatever it was that made this noise, seemed to be bound.
The party finally came to a stop, with Trodden realising that they had reached their destination.
PFSS!
The sound of something being lit afire, along with the emergence of an orange light which illuminated the immediate surroundings showed.
It was a wooden torch.
Trodden's eyes shunned the light for but a moment but his curious mind forced him to struggle his eyes gazing around as his vision first caught sight of the two men and one woman around him.
One was a man with short, grey hair and a round face, his brown eyes looking with a grimace of disgust to his left and right.
The other was a bulky man with flowing havana brown hair that reached his chin, his satin grey eyes turning to Trodden with disdain and when he noticed the young man staring, he spat in his face, his coloured saliva sliding off the side of Trodden's face.
The last was a rather tall woman with a lean build. Her face lacked any semblance of femininity, lost to the likes of delicate cheekbones and soft lips.
She had shaved her head, having only shot tufts of blonde hair left at the very top of her head while the sides remained bald.
Trodden turned his gaze after being spat on. He looked ahead and could vaguely make out a small cell l the end of this strangely small space.
However, there appeared to also be two other cells at the ends.
The light from the torch that had been lit did not reach enough to show anything about them, but the cacophony of noises that grew more intense with the appearance of the light came from these two cells.
Trodden could not see what banged against the thick bars of these cells which seemed to be reinforced by materials he was not privy to.
He was led to the centremost cell where chains that draped from above were fastened onto his wrists, squeezing at his flesh so brutally that he could already feel his blood pooling.
His legs were left as they were, as one of them was only kept intact by the cloth that had been tied around his knee, bloodied and worn it was.
"Sate the remnants of your worthless life with the estranged noises you hear around you. There will not be anything left for you to appreciate come first light," the tall woman said, her particularly aged-looking face looking all the more intimidating over the flames from the torch.
"Derrecks says you have the strength to rival our own. Ha! From what I see you are but a pup with teeth it can't use! But don't fret. There are dogs with canines that can bite through steel hidden behind iron bars to your sides. They will rip you apart if you become brave enough to raise your head," the man with the long brown hair said with scorn.
He grasped the end of the torch where the flames danced with his palm, killing the fire immediately. Darkness returned to the space and Trodden heard the three leave his presence and lock his cell afterwards.
A bit later, he heard a few clinks from either of the cells at his sides and all hell broke loose!
Whatever it was that had been held in the cells was set free and he felt the air blow every which way as the creatures rushed to his cell and banged against it!
Tens of them threw their bulk at the prison that held him, but failed to make dents in it.
They failed to intrude and tear apart this new entrant they smelt.
An entrant with a peculiar odour.
Amidst all of this, Trodden shook like a leaf, a warm liquid running down his leg as what lay beyond the bars of this cell were monstrosities he could not see but which possessed an inhuman strength.
His fate was sealed.
Trodden's breath trembled as he felt the ground quake from the strength of these creatures' steps.
There was no way he could escape.
He was bound.
He was surrounded on all sides by brutal enemies.
The turmoil that gushed in Trodden's body slaughtered his meaningful thoughts and culled his ability to speak.
Yet...
The young man heard a faint voice whose call was lesser than that of the beasts hammering at his cell, but many folds soothing.
'Find... the Bringing...'
Nay.
It was not the voice of the screeching menace that shouted threats in his mind before but the voice of his mother.
A lone voice that had the power to rejuvenate his wiry soul.
A bud of hope and confidence rose as in that moment, Trodden sank into recollection, seeking strength from the past instinctively.
***
Balgruum walked into the room that nested his two sons and found them tucked into thick blankets that warded off the cold.
A few thick candles lit their room, bringing to light its spacious nature and the assortment of clothing as well as toys that were strewn about; wooden swords, a wooden horse and the likes.
The beds of the boys were arranged side by side, and Balgruum went on to sit in the space between them on the floor, his height allowing him to still gaze upon his sons over their beds.
The two boys smiled as they knew that today was one of the few nights a month when their father was free enough to tell them a story or sing them a ballad for the night.
Many a tale had been spoken from the man's mouth and each gave the boys a last dose of raging adrenaline before they retired to the embrace of sleep.
Balgruum also smiled, caressing the boy's heads, his marble grey eyes alternating between the two children while his burgundy hair danced with this motion.
"Which tale would you have me tell? A new or an old?" Balgruum asked in a voice devoid of the authority of a lord, but the reliability and comfort of a father.
"Oh, oh, father can we hear Ruined King at the Noose?" one of the boys with reddish hair rose from his covers and leapt up and down with pleading eyes.
"Whichever you tell is fine, father," the other boy with dark hair as dark as the night said with a calm visage as he continued to lie in his bed.
"Very well. Since your Bargit really wants that old tale, I shall retell it," Balgruum said with a barely noticeable flicker of his eye before clearing his voice.
The young boy with an enthusiastic zeal finally settled down and listened attentively while his brother also peeled his mind of any distractions, drawing in his father's voice religiously.
"Risen are you, sworn are you, O Ruined.
O unpitied child of the scattered lands, how deep can thee fall?
O desperate soul surrounded by darkness, can ye be delivered while ye stand trial for no folly at all?
O ye giant of a man, strength and all, can ye accept eternal rest without beholding the prior call?
Nay, says the Ruined man as he rises from the fold.
Yea, says the evil as it strengthens its olden hold.
All might he secures, all riches he plunders, all fall down as his fate is rendered cold.
O ye man who rises without the Bright Star, a noose at thy neck, what hast thou left to live for?
Is a dangling fate all that is left to stand before?
O tall personage, who hath lost thy shame, shall ye stake it all for a cause, if I give thee my wooden claw?
...