Fates of Grenora: Return of the Night

Ruthik had explained to Grimhaven what Aldrin wanted for the Orcs while they sipped their tea. Aldrin was busy doing stretches in his new armor to figure out its limitations. "So he's the one ya saw during tha first war?" Grimhaven whispered, and Aldrin pretended he didn't hear.

"Aye, he is. He's got the same aura around him as the vision back then, and if I know, then others who have foresight know too," Ruthik replied, then took a sip of his tea.

Grimhaven looked back at Aldrin, his face was hard as his thoughts ran through his mind. "Think tha Elves know?" He turned back to ask.

"They do. At least the Moon and Dark Elves do," Aldrin answered, walking back up to them.

Grimhaven slammed his hand on the table, making the drinks wobble. "Those uppity sycophants! They think they have some claim on ya already!"

Aldrin chuckled, "They actually attacked the city I was at, all in my name thinking it would please me." He rolled his eyes. "It obviously didn't, so I sent them on their way. They had a seer with them, so I'm pretty sure they know where I'm going, anyway."

Grimhaven blinked then laughed, slapping his hand on the table once again. "Serves 'em right!" He stood grinning proudly as he looked up at Aldrin. "Clan Grimhaven will see to all your desires," he stuck his hand out.

Aldrin smiled and shook the hand of Grimhaven. "Like I told them, if there is anything I can do to repay you, big or small, just let me know."

Grimhaven's grip tightened, and his grin turned into a full-blown smile. "I'll hold ye ta that. Now come to the workshop and meet the clan."

"Right now?" Aldrin asked, looking at the tired faces of Ruthik and Svestra. "But they haven't recovered yet?"

Grimhaven waved his hand dismissively. "Not them, you," he jabbed a finger at Aldrin. "Ruthik's shop is good fer small quantities like yer weapons and personalized armor, but if ya want mass production, then Hall Grimhaven is yer best bet." He proudly grinned and puffed his already large chest out even more.

"Ruthik, Svestra, are you going to be alright?" Aldrin looked between them with a concerned gaze.

Ruthik gave him a tired smile. "We will be fine. Nothing her tea can't fix." He grabbed Svestra's hand and kissed it, making Svestra's pale cheeks darken as she tried to hide her smile. "Go on and get your armors made, son."

"And ol' Grimhaven's been waitin!" Grimhaven rubbed his hands together as he grinned. "Now come along, lad," he said, giving a wave to Svestra and Ruthik as he tugged Aldrin along.

Instead of going back the way Aldrin came, they went further down, and he marveled at how steadily the small shops changed to decent-sized shops then to workshops the size of warehouses. "Tha further ya go, the bigger tha shops. I think tha largest one I've been to was about the size of a castle. Think they made appliances?" Grimhaven tasted the word like it was sour.

"Another person from Earth then," Aldrin surmised. He would have to check it out one day.

"They like to say they are a lot of ya but I ca' count on one hand how many people from Earth I met," Grimhaven said as they passed by a textile workshop.

Aldrin took a quick glance to see Kobolds manning the sewing machines, throwing bolts of cloth and leather into large vats filled with viscous liquids. His view of the inside was cut off when a walking scarecrow with a carved pumpkin for a head stepped into view, promptly shutting the door with a menacing laugh.

Grimhaven grunted, "That's Hallow's Bane. A golem that gained sentience through dark magic. He's an alright fellow, but he doesn't like it if ye stare too long. A bit insecure if ya ask me." He told Aldrin without stopping.

They passed a Gothic cathedral next, where two heavily armored guards made of polished bone stood at the entrance. While they didn't move their heads, Aldrin could feel their piercing gazes on him. "An exiled lich lord from Vaultstrand lives there," Grimhaven told Aldrin and had to step back when Aldrin snarled.

Aldrin stomped forward, but Grimhaven caught him before he could get any further. "Don't. While the Black Bazaar may seem like there are no rules. There are and picking a fight will bear its creator on ya. Something I wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy." He held firmly onto Aldrin's arm

Aldrin looked back and forth between the cathedral and Grimhaven. "Who-"

The cathedral door opened, revealing a levitating skeleton in a silky black bathrobe, a martini glass in one hand and a heart in the other. "Go fetch, boy!" He threw the heart and floated aside, letting a small skeleton dog rush past him. The skeleton dog clamped the heart in its jaws and happily trotted back, dropping the heart at the skeleton's floating feet. "Who's a good boy?!" He bent down, patting down the spine of the dog who wiggled and yipped with its bony tail wagging back and forth. The skeleton looked up, its pink eye flames glancing at Grimhaven and Aldrin. The flames brightened, noticing the two. "Well, hello there!" He gave a friendly wave then shooed the skeleton dog back into the cathedral and followed it in, closing the overly large door behind him.

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"That was unexpected?" Aldrin said, confused about how to process the interaction.

Grimhaven chuckled and shook his head. "Told ya, exiled," he said, still smiling.

They passed more shops until Aldrin realized he had seen something similar. This was exactly how Waesmenor's shop worked. The shops were their own pocket dimensions, which floored Aldrin. "How does someone get a shop here?" He asked Grimhaven as they neared a stone mound that sat between a wizard's spiral tower to its right and a harbor to its left that was filled with Scalekins, or Lizardmen some would say.

"Invited only by the creator himself. We usually get one or two new places a year. I got mine when ma clan and I broke free from our chains from a pack of Gnolls. It saved us, teleporting us here, with a place to call our own that resembled our Great Hall." He pointed to the mound they were approaching. An intricately carved door stood between two Dwarven statues holding their arms open wide. "Come on, let's get started."

Grimhaven pushed open the large stone door with ease, and a faint burst of heat, roaring laughter, and the smell of booze drifted out from the thin barrier that separated it from the outside. "Sounds like they started without me!" Grimhaven grinned wildly. He rushed in, Aldrin not too far behind as he stepped through the thin film at the entrance. They went down some steps alight with small hearts in the walls. At the bottom, where it opened, they stepped into a massive room with long tables filled with beer, food, weapons, tools. Dwarves sat shoulder to shoulder, both talking to the ones closest to them and shouting across the hall to another table. It was chaotic until Aldrin stepped into view with a proudly grinning Grimhaven at his side.

Grimhaven cupped his hands around his mouth and cleared his throat. "CLAN GRIMHAVEN!" he shouted, making everyone stop what they were doing. "This here is the Lord Progenitor that was prophesied by Ruthik!"

Cheers erupted as every Dwarf raised a mug of ale, sloshing it over and onto the table when they clinked them together. A few burly ones rushed over and hefted Aldrin onto their shoulders, carrying him over to the nearest table. Another dwarf had slid a chair at the head of the table where the dwarves carrying him deposited him. A mug of frothy golden ale slid in front of Aldrin, followed by a freshly grilled steak and veggies with a slice of freshly baked bread drizzled with melting butter.

The Dwarves quieted down and watched with bated breath. Aldrin took the mug and raised it, then took a sip. Much like before, he couldn't taste or feel it, but he pretended to enjoy it. Something he would have to get better at if he intended to infiltrate the corrupt gangs and syndicates that run Ebira.

The Dwarves being Dwarves loudly cheered and raised their own drinks, spilling more than they drank as they downed their cups. They used the ends of their long beards to wipe their mouths before another large barrel was placed at the other end of the table, opposite Aldrin. The Dwarves around Aldrin passed their cups down towards the barrel as the brewmaster at the end filled each cup and sent it on its way, much like a rotating conveyor. Aldrin's own cup was taken away to be refilled, and during that time, a fork and a knife were placed beside his plate of food.

A sinking feeling arose within Aldrin as he realized that these Dwarves, unlike Ruthik and Grimhaven, had no idea that he was a Vampire. Dread filled him as he wondered how they would react. "Excuse me." Aldrin cleared his throat, silencing the conversations, which was a feat in itself of how unassuming attentive Dwarves were. "I have a confession." Aldrin stood, and some of the Dwarves looked at each other, confusion crossing their features.

"I am not what you think I am," Aldrin emphasized, looking at each Dwarf he could. Grimhaven came to stand beside Aldrin.

"Are ye not thy progenitor?" A Dwarf with hair and a beard as black as coal asked in a thick accent.

Aldrin frowned, trying to find the words within his mind that, hopefully wouldn't get him killed. "I am, but I am also not."

Some Dwarves heartily chuckled. "He thinks he's a fairy, twinkling around the subject!" One Dwarf interrupted, causing others around him to laugh.

"AYE! BE SILENT OR I WILL RAKE YE OVER THE COALS LIKE I DID YOUR GRANDPAPPY!" Grimhaven thunderously bellowed, silencing the laughter.

The Dwarf in question gave Grimhaven a cheeky grin. "He more than likely needed it!"

Aldrin snorted, trying to stifle the laugh that escaped him. Grimhaven shot him glare then refocused back onto the black-haired Dwarf. The Dwarf was about to say something else before an old Dwarf clobbered him on his head. He was about to whip around until he saw who was standing behind him, and all fire died as he paled. "Gran-Granddad!" He stammered, holding one hand to the top of his head.

"Ye lucky yer mom's still alive or I would have shaved ya to make a nice blanket for Ol'Ben," the old Dwarf threatened, silencing the black-haired Dwarf as he turned back around in shame. Others chuckled at the chastisement before returning their focus back to Aldrin. The old Dwarf gave Aldrin a curt nod for him to continue until he really looked at Aldrin.

The old Dwarf slowly knelt with his head bowed. "Forgive me, Old One. Mah progeny lacks the respect and decorum yer kin desire."

Most of the Dwarves except for the other greybeards looked stunned to see one of their elders kneel to a Progenitor. The scraping and screeching of wood on stone broke the silence as the other greybeards stood and knelt. Aldrin watched them kneel one by one, his stomach coiling like writing snakes at the display. Most of him was revolted at the reverence, but now, there was a small part of him that wanted to relish ‌it, in the power of what he was accepting.

"Speak yer true name, Lord. The one that was promised to be born of death yet retained his soul," the old Dwarf solemnly said, snapping Aldrin out of his reflection.

Aldrin looked at Grimhaven, who subtly nodded. He sighed deeply, closed his eyes to recenter himself then stood tall when he opened them. "I am Aldrin Ravindra, the First Vampire." He announced and waited for an outburst, but all the younger dwarves stared at him with gaping mouths and wide eyes. One dropped his fork, letting it hit against his plate and onto the stone floor with a clang.

"Well, fuck me," the black-haired Dwarf whispered, staring at Aldrin with an unreadable expression.

Grimhaven turned to face the rest of his clan and grinned, "Ruthik was right after all!"