The newcomer’s command sent a shiver down my spine.

Get the knife?! The fucking knife?! What the hell did I do to deserve a request like that? I was just engaging in harmless musical voyeurism!

This was turning out to be way worse than the other time I’d tried to see a free show. I’d snuck into a bar to see Cherry a few years ago, and I’d gotten caught almost immediately. But, even though they were willing to just kick me out with a slap on the wrist… I’d tried to sneak in again. The exact details don’t matter, but I learned that night that in a scuffle between a slow, fat, slightly-inebriated teenager and a gigantic, fit, straight-edge bouncer–the chubby guy gets tossed on his ass in front of a crowd of attractive metalhead ladies.

I think they call that a parable.

My loud breathing alone disturbed the silence that followed the man’s statement. None of the others gathered around me had said anything, nor had they moved. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten so drawn into the camaraderie. I’d relaxed, let my guard down, and almost definitely dropped out of stealth. That must have been how he’d seen me. Whoever he was.

Just as I was about to start throwing every vicious insult I could muster, the blond-haired man–known as Calden–spoke.

“My apologies, Virgil–welcome back by the by,” he said. “But to which knife are you referring?”

The man holding me down made an angry noise, pressing his boot a bit harder into my back.

“The knife, Calden,” he grunted. “Get the knife.”

I couldn’t see the man, but I could tell by his tone that he attempted to relay information that Calden apparently didn’t have access to. Almost as if there were no knife…

“A moment,” Calden said. “Virgil, are you implying you are going to torture this poor creature?”

“Dammit, Calden, stop sayin’ my name!” Virgil said. “Ain’t you never engaged in cloak an’ dagger afore? This ain’t no monster with pityin!’ They was lurkin’ with clear nefarious intent! Oh, blast it all! Get me the knife.”

“What’s going on here?” I demanded from the ground. “If you think capturing me is gonna be easy, then you’ve got another thing comin,’ motherfuckers. I’m gonna bite your ankles!”

“There are many knives within our congregation, Virgil,” Calden continued, ignoring me entirely. “In fact, I can think of three or four beautiful specimens within snatching distance at this very moment. You may need to be more specific, friend.

Virgil made another frustrated noise.

“You seem to have an idea but are unable to properly find the words to make the matter more clear,” Calden said. “I am unsure as to your intentions or what wildly disparate memory you seem to be straining to recall. Is it a bread knife? Are you hungry? Do you–”

“Why do you have him bound up?” Came Jes’ deep slur, interrupting Calden’s obfuscating diatribe. “Was he primed for an attack? He is not acting out–as it stands.”

Are these guys… not going to try to kill me?

“Aye,” came Frida’s measured burr. “Seems t’orc dinnae intend te attack.”

“I didn’t!” I shouted. “I was just trying to listen to the song!”

“There you have it, Virgil,” Calden said kindly. “From the mouth of the beast himself. It appears that this has all been a dark misunderstanding. You cannot fault our guest for wanting to steal a bit of melodic respite. Despite Jes’ many flaws, his voice is quite nice.”

“Mind yourself, Calden,” Jes warned. “One flaw I embody is letting irritants have too long on their podium without striking them down. I could do with a bit of personal growth at the moment.”

“Intrigued, though I am, to see the true and unbridled power of the unparalleled Jesimir Carandalon,” Calden said. “I am quite confident that I can run faster afraid than you can angered.”

The group, save for Virgil, laughed at that.

This was confusing in so many ways. These people, whoever they were, seemed to act as though my presence was… irrelevant. Like this wasn’t even the weirdest interaction they’d had today, and I was just a usual suspect of their typical routine. Why were they here in this dungeon? I’d been led to believe that no one had been in this dungeon in possibly hundreds of years.

What gives?

The southern gentleman kept his boot on my back but slightly lightened the push. Enough that I no longer felt like my coccyx was grinding against my gooch anymore.

“I’m only tryin’ to keep an eye on any dangers what might present themselves,” Virgil stated soberly.

“And we salute your dutiful pursuit,” Calden said. “But, perhaps you might be inclined to have a rest, my friend? Kick back, as they say, and chase down the illustrious perfection of a drunken stupor–like the rest of us.”

“Speak for yourself, coxcomb,” Merra said.

“Our marvelously teetotaling companion notwithstanding,” Calden corrected, then his voice softened. “Unwind, Virgil. You’ve been gone longer and longer these days.”

I could feel Virgil’s tension diminish as he relaxed his boot’s position until it was just casually resting on my back. Eventually, he spoke again, but his voice had lost a lot of its original conviction.

“I been nearby,” he said. “Keepin’ an eye out, but never so far that I’d lose sight o’ y’all. What’s the verdict on the orc, then?”

“It appears,” Calden began, “that his only folly was not knowing that Vengeful Virgil was stalking him. Poor eyesight is not a cause, however, for whatever you wanted that knife for, no?”

After a moment, Virgil’s boot disappeared from my back, but the restraint remained.

“So, are you guys going to take this off of me, or what?” I asked, still lying on my stomach in the dirt. No one responded. The group had begun drinking again, just fucking leaving me where I was.

“Seriously?” I demanded. “I’m not a piece of useless furniture! I’m like a… refrigerator.”

A pair of strong hands lifted me gently and set me upright. I looked right into the eyes of Dedyc, the lizard… thing. He smiled at me. I think.

“You look funny for an orc,” Dedyc said. “Weird clothes.”

I let my gaze fall on Dedyc’s own outfit, which was partially obscured by his enveloping animal skin. Beneath, I could make out just the hint of clothing that I’d be tempted to call “poverty caveman” fashion. A leather bandolier crossed his bare, scaly chest diagonally, laden with trinkets, stones, and bottles. Around his waist was more animal skin–seemingly some sort of tribal skirt–trimmed with fur. He was exposed to the world from thighs down, and his legs ended in a pair of large, clawed feet. I noticed that the hands that held me had three fingers each and were also topped with razor-sharp talons.

I smiled back at him.

“Yeah, your fit is totally normal.”

Dedyc leaned forward.

“Thank you.”

Everything about this guy sets me on edge.

He felt like a wild animal just pretending to be a sentient being. There was a feral threat in his eyes and movements, and I couldn’t trust that at any moment, he wouldn’t just go berserk and start tearing into me.

“Can you release me?” I asked him.

The lizardman shook his head.

“Not my spell.”

“Well,” I began. “Could you convince the guy who cast it on me to uncast it, possibly?”

Dedyc shook his head again.

“No.”

This is frustrating.

“Why not?”

Dedyc stood up, staring down at me.

“You don’t uncast it. It fades on its own in twenty minutes. Sorry.”

I sighed.

“That’s alright. Thanks for propping me up.”

Dedyc nodded and staggered away. I didn’t have anything else to do, and it seemed everyone else was just going to ignore me–so I just watched.

They continued carousing and drinking and joking, gathering closer and closer to the fire and paying me no mind. As I spectated, I finally got a chance to see what Virgil looked like. He was a lean, muscular human and older than I expected. His hair was gray and long, reaching just above his shoulders, and he sported a pencil-thin mustache that didn’t seem to fit the motif of the world. I judged him to be near fifty. He wore leather armor dyed pewter, and a green fabric headband was nestled above his brow. I didn’t see any weapons on him at all.

I’m not sure where the idea came from, but it stuck in my brain like a festering parasite–I couldn’t help it. The man's accent, the way he moved, his look of being slightly out of his element. It didn’t make any sense, but I was confident about one thing: Virgil was like me.

A sojourner.

–

Eventually, the merriment wound down, and it was clear the group had all been considering my fate. They clustered around me, with Jes taking point as their primary speaker–which surprised me. I’d expected the loud-mouthed Calden to lead the charge. Still, he seemed perfectly comfortable hanging in the background while the entire party took up all my available breathing room.

“So,” Jes said, giving me an appraising look while my hackles raised. “What is your name?”

“Loon,” I said quickly. “And I’m not a fucking bandit or something if that’s what you guys were thinking. I’m just a guy who is trying to survive this dungeon as best I can.”

“Well met, Loon,” Jes said politely. “I am Jesimir Carandalon, but you may simply call me Jes if it suits you.

“Well… uh, met,” I returned. “Are you the one that was appointed to break the bad news?”

“I’m sorry?” Jes asked. “Which bad news would that be?”

“That you guys are gonna eat me.”

There was a long silence as the group drank in my words. Then, all at once, they began to laugh.

I sat there in silence as they built into a crescendo of mirth. I very casually breathed a sigh of relief.

Well, shit. I’d been serious.

I cracked a grin, pretending that it had been my intent all along.

“...you know, eat my bones, turn my skin into handkerchiefs?”

More laughter.

“...I mean, you guys look like you might enjoy taking a bite out of ole Loon, is all I’m saying.”

They kept laughing.

I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m going to roll with it.

I pointed at Dedyc.

“I know this guy eats orc steaks.”

As they continued in their hysteria, I had to think for a second. This wasn’t even particularly clever as far as I was concerned. It didn’t use a variety of comparisons to body parts or ugly animals or any of my usual hallmarks of what I considered good humor. But for them… it was funny.

Just as I was winding up another joke about them nibbling on my tender innards, there was a flash of light as the magical shackles disappeared. This caused me to change directions.

“Uh oh,” I said in a sing-song and peered around mischievously. “Looks like I’m free now. Guess you guys are going to have to take your meal to go–that is, if you can catch me!”

This had caused an eruption so strong among the group that I literally saw gobs of snot shoot out of Merra’s nose.

What the fuck is this? Is there a fucking gas leak?

“You’re… hehe. Not a normal…ha. Orc.” Jes said between hiccups of laughter.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” I said, standing up and pulling the party hat out of my pack. “Check this shit out!”

They began laughing the moment I placed it on my head.

“What in the realm is this?” Calden chuckled. “We have stumbled on to a jester of some variety! This is stupendous!”

Then the slime began, sliding down my body like molasses. Rather than laughter, though, this prompted the group to grow very intrigued, leaning forward to examine me, each speaking at once.

“Goodness,” Calden said.

“Et’s a neat trick,” said Frida.

“That is a might curious,” Virgil drawled.

“Looks sticky,” Dedyc hissed.

“Now that is a wonder,” said Merra.

“Is that slime?” Jes wondered.

I beamed.

“You’re all correct,” I said.

“Could I trouble you for a sample?” Jes asked. “To examine more closely?”

“Do your thing, Jes,” I said.

Jes rushed over to his pack and procured a jar. He uncorked the lid and shook something solid out that tumbled to the dirt, then picked up a stick from the ground and returned. I and the others watched as he pressed the stick to my flesh, delighting as the goo ran over it. Then he pulled the wood back, and the slime created a long, viscous strand as it clung to both the stick and my skin like a baker making caramel. He placed a portion of the grossness in his jar and corked it before smiling up at me.

“The College of Redmark thanks you,” he said with a smile.

My stomach fell.

“The what, now?”

Jes waved his hand dismissively at me.

“My apologies, Loon. I may have imbibed too much,” he said.

However, Calden interrupted him before he could say more.

“No one–least of all this fine and upstanding orc compatriot–wants to hear about your hoity-toity universe-oity,” he said, slapping Jes on the shoulder lightly. “He’s obviously traveled a long way to get away from concepts like that–to a dungeon, no less. Look at him–he’s free of the burden your beleaguered lot have tried for centuries to rope him with. Is there nowhere safe from the misgivings of such a tenured institution as your scholastic prison?”

Jes let out a groan and rolled his eyes.

The College of Redmark? What the fuck? They’re educating these people? I’m guessing Stinky didn’t get into the group on a scholarship. Did they follow us in here and somehow get ahead of us?

Something about all of this was off. They didn’t strike me as similar to the Redmarks I’d just tangled with. Still, if there was an entire institution devoted to them, that spelled trouble.

Jes appeared to be a type of wealthy nobleman or something–which seemed not to jive too well with the creed of Commander Fawn and her posse of misfit dipshits. Especially considering they wanted to dismantle the current ruling class, or whatever.

I also reasoned that they could have been wholly dissimilar, and their only relation was the name, much like in my world. For instance, our school mascot was the mustang, but we had no relation to the famous car model. It would be ludicrous to assume otherwise. I felt like maybe this was a similar situation that I just didn’t have the full context for.

Is Redmark a location? A type of plant?

I missed a bit of their conversation because of my quiet pondering, but Virgil got it back on track by asking me a question directly.

“So, you fancy y’self a dungeoneer then, friend?

I shrugged.

“Honestly, we just sort of stumbled into this place unintentionally and have been just trying to survive. It hasn’t been the worst thing to deal with, but it hasn’t been fun by any stretch of the imagination.”

Calden laughed.

“Oh, we understand that all too well,” he said, gesturing to his companions. “Though, we initially did seek the innards of this dungeon of our own volition. It has not been the most fortuitous endeavor thus far, and this chamber in its own right is confounding.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Et’s been keepin’ us from advancin’ farther,” Frida answered.

“We lost our navigator and have been wayward an’ rudderless since.”

“Oh, shit,” I said. “Did he die?”

“We do hold out hope that he still lives,” Jes said. “Though, with each day, it seems less and less likely to be the case.”

“My apologies… Loon, did you say?” Calden asked.

“Yeah, that’s me, alright,” I said. “What’s up?”

“I couldn’t help but notice you used the plural when discussing your origin. You came in here with others? Have they gone the way of our noble navigator?”

I shook my head.

“Actually, no,” I said. “My group is still intact–as far as I know. I was just moving ahead to check out the song–which I’m still waiting to hear, by the way. I have some opinions and some questions.”

“Like any true patron of the arts,” Calden said. “However, are the remaining members of your cortége… also orcs?”

His tone indicated a hint of concern. I couldn’t blame him. Seeing one of me was bad enough, I’m sure, but if I was rolling deep with an entire cabal of boulder-shouldered savages… that might change their friendly tune toward me quickly. I wasn’t sure I could trust this group, but I also didn’t want to give them a reason to start getting aggressive or slap another pair of shackles on me again. So I opted for a little bit of honesty.

“No, I’m the only one,” I said. Then I winked. “Limited edition. The… uh, gods broke the mold when they made me.”

The group chuckled, but I could tell there was tension in their humor, so I continued.

“I’m traveling with a matau–have you heard of those?”

This got a laugh larger than anything else I’d said so far today.

“Oh, we’ve heard of mataus,” Dedyc hissed. “But, why would you want to travel with one?”

“Whatcha mean?” I asked.

“Well,” Merra said, flashing me a quick smile. “They’re awfully… simple, aren’t they? I’ve always considered them sort of vacant creatures since rumors say they spend all their time locked up in their cities pouring over their archives.”

“Is that right?” I asked.

“If the tales are to be believed,” she continued. “They rarely venture out–is what I was told–and you wouldn’t catch any of them in a dungeon on account of all the grime and filth.”

“...they don’t like dirt?” I asked, hardly able to contain my laughter.

“Oh, Chendra, no,” Merra exclaimed. “They are notoriously hygienic and clean. A place like this would probably lend one an awful experience.”

I couldn’t help it. I began to laugh, doubling over so hard that I was forced to prop myself up with a hand to keep from falling on the ground. After a moment, I was able to catch my breath and looked up at the group.

“Is… everything alright, Loon?” Merra asked.

“Yep,” I said. “Just fine. I was just thinking about something funny from earlier.”

“I would be very interested in meeting your matau companion,” Jes said earnestly. “If one has made the journey all this way and entered the Crypt, I should like to see very much how they are adapting.”

I kept grinning.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “You can definitely meet him. In fact, I am going to request that you make it a priority.”

“Splendid,” Jes said.

Oh my god. I can’t wait to use this new information to hassle Stinky with. His people are a bunch of nerdy clean freaks! How far he must have fallen.

“Oh,” I said. “You mentioned you guys had lost your sherpa a few days ago, right? How long have you guys been in here? I was under the impression this thing had been locked up tight for a while now, possibly centuries. We actually believed we were the first to enter in a long time.”

Calden nodded.

“Yes, it was our understanding as well that the Forbidden Crypt was long cold before we arrived. It is quite interesting that both of our groups arrived within such a short time from one another, don’t you think? Perhaps the fates at work?”

“Yeah, super fucking weird,” I said. “You guys don’t know a guy named Zeol, do you?”

They all shook their heads, save for Jes. The elf tilted his head at the name.

“Zeol,” he asked. “As in Zeol the Capricious?”

I sighed.

“That’s the one. You know him?”

“I am not intimately acquainted with the being, no,” he said. “But I have heard of him–and of course, his followers. Are you one of his disciples?”

Something about that question set off an alarm bell in my head, and I knew that I needed to be very careful about my next choice of words. An association with Zeol seemed like it would not work in my favor in this instance, and that was something I was happy to shrug off.

“Oh, absolutely not,” I said–to Jes’ visible relief. “I just heard that there’s an artifact of his in here that might be worth some serious change.”

“Ah,” Jes said. “Perhaps that is that case, though there are quite a few high-tier objects rumored to be within these walls. Unfortunately, most of our information regarding such items is enigmatic or incomplete. I would be wary of an item of the Capricious, however.”

“Why’s that?”

“An object belonging to a being of such an iniquitous reputation–especially where his tribe is concerned–would likely have an equivalently vile nature. If you happen upon such a piece, it would be best to disregard it or obliterate it. Nothing prosperous would grow from obtaining a keepsake of such ill-repute.”

Uh-oh. Zeol had a rep for being disgustingly evil? Color me surprised.

“You will have to excuse, Jes,” Calden said. “Informative, though he may be, his is a countenance wrapped in superstition.”

“That is enough from you, Vick,” Jes said. “I am merely making a cautionary–”

“Please, Jes,” Calden interrupted. “Do not bandy my family name about so flippantly. Are we not tried and true friends and colleagues? I note a particular sense of propriety and station in your words. Call me Calden, please. Lest I believe you perceive your worth higher than mine own.”

“I do not perceive–”

“Wonderful,” Calden beamed. “All is right with the world then, no?”

“So, why don’t you guys tell me a bit about yourselves?” I asked. “I already know you’re all ridiculously good-looking with great senses of humor. But, if you don’t mind, you wanna give me some hot deets on why you’re all on this little holiday? Do you have a group name? Are there any love triangles? Who snores?”

Surprisingly, Frida was the first to speak. She’d struck me as the type to hang back and let the others do the boring explanations, but I could see that she was delighted to have something to contribute.

“We’re here attemptin’ to unlock an item,” she said, her blue eyes dancing.

“That’s a feature of the dungeon?” I asked.

“Aye,” Frida said, nodding excitedly. “For this object, et’s a requirement.”

“It must be some big-ticket prize to stuff yourselves deep into this dumpster like you have,” I said. “Is it some thematic, world-ending weapon of mass destruction?”

Jes leaned in.

“It is most decidedly not any–”

“It very well could be!” Calden announced, earning a glare from Jes. “We do not know exactly what will happen when we rouse the malignant arcana embedded within. Though I hope that in whatever manifestation the power takes, it will be a colorful display.”

“We’ve been a crew foor a bit o’ years now,” Frida said. “Used te be just me, Jes and Dedyc. Then we met Merra durin’ a stint in Feistorel. Unfortunately, Calden came along with ‘er.”

Calden cleared his throat, but Frida plowed right through it.

“Virgil’s our newest ‘ddition. Picked ‘m up near on a year back.”

“Wow,” I said. “You guys just kick on the reg, doin’ hoodrat shit nonstop? Sounds like the life.”

“We work well t’gether,” Frida confirmed. “This doonjon presented an’ opportunity we couldnae pass up. No’ te mention, the Quest rewards are staggerin.’”

“Damn,” I said. “You guys’ adventure is way cooler than anything I’m working on. The best Quest I’ve got under my belt is returning goblin ears to some mad scientist. Granted, I’m gonna get paid–according to the note I found–but I’d much rather be slinking along with y’all, poppin’ open magic trinkets or whatever.”

“Ye should join us, then,” Frida said. “Always room foor ‘nother pair o’ hands.”

“Frida,” Calden admonished. “You cannot request that of someone who we are still only warming up to.”

The blond man turned to me.

“I apologize on her behalf, good fellow. Do not feel any obligation to entertain such flights of fancy. Please forgive her lack of manners–have I mentioned that she’s been bashed over the head many times?”

I chuckled.

“No worries,” I said. “Honestly, if I wasn’t so concerned I’d get immediately maimed or killed, I’d probably take you up on that offer. However, I am more interested in getting out of here than going deeper. But, look me up when you’re finished kicking the shit outta this place, and I’ll absolutely consider tagging along.”

I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t outright refused. It wasn’t my usual style. The group seemed nice enough, but I also didn’t fully trust them–and it would be foolish to do so. Something still didn’t smell right about their entire operation, and the Redmark mention only made me more hesitant. No, better to let this be a simple exchange in a spooky crypt and leave it at that.

“You can plan on that,” Calden said. “Oh, I’d only just thought about it now, but has the new year dawned outside yet? We entered only a week before the Winter Turn, and it might be nice to gather our orientation as the days in here bleed into one another.”

“Uh, I dunno,” I said. “The… climate here is different from where I’m from.”

“Where would that be?” Jes asked curiously.

“I’m from…” I paused, trying to remember my conversation with Fawn. “The Territory of… Kursk.”

“Bloomin’ shite!” Frida exclaimed, reaching forward to grab me around the shoulders. “A’m from Kursk ‘swell!”

Oh, fuck.

“Whaur ye fae? Broggek? Dain sechlach? Surely, not Yorbin?”

I just forced myself to smile, my mind racing.

“You’re telling me you can’t tell?” I finally breathed.

This should buy me some time. Hopefully.

“Dinnae take ye foor a coy,” Frida said with a wink. “Hard te say–accent an’ all–b’ef I had te guess…”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip thoughtfully before finally popping them open with a smile.

“Medlyre?”

“Yep,” I said. “Near there, but still a-ways out. A little no-name hamlet off the beaten path.”

“Nae shite?” Frida gushed. “An orc an’ a Hammie? Bad bit o’ luck, then!”

I nodded sagely, though I was on fire with anxiety on the inside.

“There isn’t a sadder tale to be told,” I muttered.

Behind me, I heard Calden whisper to Jes.

“This makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Are the dates different as well in Kursk?” Merra asked. “That would be interesting!”

Frida made to respond, but I cut her off with a wink like I was up to something.

“Might be,” I said. “You tell me the last date you remember it being, and I’ll tell you if it matches.”

Merra chuckled.

“I’ll take a bite of that bait,” she said. “We entered the fifth day before the Turn, Year Three-thousand, six-hundred and eleven. So, how long have we been here?”

“Oh, it feels like a decade or two at least,” Calden cracked. Jes nodded his agreement.

“Especially with you and your insufferable gnashing of teeth.”

I paused at that.

“Well…” I said, trailing off. I had no idea whatsoever, but that had never stopped me before. Just as I was opening my mouth, another voice interrupted me.

“Four hundred and sixty-one years.”

As one, everyone turned to the trees, where the voice had originated.

Standing just at the cusp of greenery stood Stinky, flanked on either side by several possessed roe. He looked haggard like he hadn’t slept in three days, and he was covered in an array of new scars.

Somebody tripped and fell in the brambles.

“My apologies, friend,” Calden said. “But, who are you?”

Stinky just shook his head.

“Orc,” he said. “You’re alive.”

“Of course I’m alive,” I said, looking back at the group as though Stinky was a crazy person. “I was just ahead of you. These guys aren’t as murder-y as they look.”

“This chamber softens your sense of time,” he announced, looking more at the group than at me. “I hate to bear the brunt of the bad word, but if you claim you entered in 3611, that will put you in before the Gaier Dynasty. It’s a new age now, has been for almost a hundred and eighty years.”

“How would that even be possible,” I asked. “I think I would have noticed if these guys were zombies or ghosts or something. I’ve spent over an hour teaching them what actual jokes sound like. You should have been here–you might have learned something.

Stinky spat, then wiped his mouth with a hand covered in dried blood.

“Not an hour, orc,” he said. “You’ve been gone five fuckin’ days.”

“Exsqueeze me?”