A group of people sat around a small fire, the darkness of night a small cocoon around them and the glimmer of the moonlight, a silver streak, reflecting off of one of their tankards. The fire hissed and cracked, a young man, barely seventeen, spoke up. His voice a little raspy from being parched, his brown eyes reflecting the dancing flames.
"So, Marius? You spoke of a Centurion?" The young man asked. A slightly older man brushed his black hair back. His other hand facing towards the fire, trying to catch the heat.
"Yes." Marius said. "His name was Titus, a man of many talents..." Marius shifted a little. The heat a welcoming grace in the bitter cold of the night.
"What was he like?" The young boy asked. Marius sighed and rubbed his hands.
"An egotistical maniac..." Marius spoke with distaste. "Some would call him a madman in civilisation, others would call him a hero... A hero who kills everyone below him." The young boy gasped in shock.
"A madman? A Centurion?" The boy asked, his voice with more intrigue than before.
A cough went out among the group of four. A one eyed bald man tossed another bit off wood onto the fire, the flames engulfing it and cackling in response.
"A madman? More like a bloody butcher." The old scarred man's voice was rough and coarse. "I spoke against him and he sent me to the Cavalry, I saw all my friends who were with me die that day. He's a monster." The man leaned back taking a sip of his Ale.
"One of his favourite punishments..." Marcus added. "Titus is insane, unstable. I once saw him mount someone's head onto his wall, he even calls for hunts against people." Marcus look over to the young boy who listens carefully.
"His ego is the largest thing about him. It's bigger than down there." The blind man said. Marcus laughed and began to speak before being interrupted by their last companion, a woman in her twenties.
"Worse is that THING that copies some of his actions..." The woman pointed out, brushing her long brown hair from her tired eyes. "And joins in on the hunts..." She added.
"The worst part is just when you think you're all nice and safe... Titus sounds his horn..." The blind man added, Marcus shuddered at the thought.
The fire continued to cackle, the party sitting in the silence of the night. One of them peered out into the darkness as black shadow fluttered past some trees.
"Were not alone..." The young boy warned. The party looked around, the black shape jumping between trees. The light catching barely anything of it. They followed were it was leading and through the undergrowth something stepped out. They all gasped and their eyes went wide in shock as a beast, which name is unknown, walked towards them. A polearm in hand it stopped. A horn sounded and it smiled.
Titus sat in his tent, eating the joy of the food before him. Screams off into the distance.
"Anyona's killed some more... Tell her to stop." He ordered to his guards who nodded. Neither of whom dared to say anything. He continued to eat as a mere hundred meters away blood was being spilled. He could hear it and he sat perfectly still, biting into a chunk of beef.
"Am I not the greatest?" Titus asked and his guards nodded. Fearing death otherwise.
"Good. Now, bring me some more food." Titus commanded in a calm tone. The guards nodded and hurried out, fetching whatever the cook had made.