Fates of Grenora: Return of the Night

In the basement of Moira's apartment building, where a single light illuminated the space, leaving shadows in the corners of the stone foundation. Moira drummed her fingers on the wooden table she sat at. Across from her, Aldrin, Jared, Pierre, Evie, Buramog-Kurdan, and Tar-Xur all stared at her expectantly. They were busy plotting and scheming their next move. Unfortunately, they hit a snag.

"So let me get this straight," Moira began, her fingers massaging her temples from the onset of a headache. "You want to start your own crime syndicate but not really be a crime syndicate?" She asked, peering into Aldrin's green eyes that still unnerved her. "Don't look too deep," she constantly reminded herself.

Aldrin sat back and crossed his arms. "I am and I need the information our mutual friend said you would have gathered by now." He fired back. He had seen her try to suppress the shiver that would often make itself known to him. "I need to know the players and who I'm dealing with if I'm going to make this work."

"What's the gain?" She asked, wondering where all this would end. She had guessed two options: it would end in a ton of bloodshed, which would be perfect for the Vampire that sat across from her, or it would be something peaceful judging by the way his friends were sitting at ease.

"Freedom for the oppressed, for one," Aldrin listed on one finger. "Levels for all of us," he raised a second finger. "Not to mention whatever treasure the gangs have hoarded will be returned to the economy and people with us skimming a bit off the top for our hard work," he paused with a smile that set Moira on edge.

She took a heavy breath, dreading the question that burned to be known. "What's the price..?" she asked quietly.

Aldrin chuckled, "There is no price but the price of freedom."

"So, bloodshed…" she quietly finished.

Aldrin frowned at her response, finding it weird for her to be worried about blood being spilled. Especially if it's wretched blood that has been abusing the populace. "You're an assassin? Right?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Moira's eyes tightened around the edges. "Not because I wanted to be but because I had to be," she answered carefully.

Aldrin tilted his head as he stared at her. "Why?" He asked.

"Because it was the only way to survive growing up," she found herself admitting, wondering if she had fallen under his charm again, but when she looked for any alert, there was none.

"Hm." Aldrin grunted. "Well, how about you become an assassin for hope instead of need?" He offered. "Help me rid this town of the gangs that plague it."

Moira stared back at him, seeing the flickers of genuine concern and pity emerge in his eyes along with determination. "Why?" She asked again. "Why go through all this trouble?"

Aldrin broke eye contact and stared down at the table. "Because I have all this power that I could do some good with, real good," his eyes flicked back to hers. "And I haven't been. This town-"

Moira slammed her hand on the table. "Is not an experiment for you to try! These are living people who have only known day-to-day survival! You're not a white knight coming to save the day! Say what you really want and be done with it." She fumed.

Aldrin sat back, his cool gaze sweeping over her, his resolve solidifying from her outburst. "I need a foundation for when I come back. A base of operations, so to speak."

That piqued Moira's interest. "From where?"

"From the Forbidden Continent. My kin reside there, waiting for me to come." He admitted. "I have recently discovered what I want my purpose to be. I want to achieve unity. For too long, this queendom has rotted from the inside out. The Queen hasn't been seen in years, while her people are left to fend for themselves and her inner circle grows fat and wealthy from the suffering. I'm going to build something better, something worthwhile across the sea, and this town will be a funnel point for those who want a better chance at life regardless of who and what they are." He told her with complete sincerity.

Moira sat back this time, mirroring his folded arms. "You're a Vampire. You crave control." She countered.

Aldrin's facade nearly broke. "I crave acceptance." He growled. "I've had to forsake my home, my own sister almost killed me, my grandfather believes me dead, not to mention a father who sits in prison for a crime he did not commit. So, excuse me if I seem a little jaded ‌when this world has taken from me since I've been here." He stood, his vampiric features, specifically his fangs, claws, and eyes, changed to show what lurks beneath.

Moira reacted by drawing her daggers but froze when the Giantess, Evie, placed a gentle hand on Aldrin's forearm, as did Pierre, who stood behind him, placed a hand on his shoulder. Worry and concern etched on their faces as they looked at Aldrin.

"He dreams of a world where everybody can be loved and accepted. I am slowly learning that the more I travel with him. Ebira can be the first start of it all. No more slaves, gangs, or anything. Just prosperity." Evie quietly said, looking between Moira and Aldrin.

Moira sheathed her daggers. "Do you all believe he can achieve this?" She asked the others.

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"He knows our story and still accepts us. It would be rude of us not to do the same," Pierre said.

"And he knows what I am, a princess so far down the line that I would never inherit the throne but never once questioned why I'm out here instead of home with my clan," Evie said next, removing her hand from Aldrin's forearm and clasping them together in front of her.

Buramog-Kurdan grunted and snorted, "He showed us a different path and that's good enough for me."

Each statement ran through Moira's mind as she looked at each of them, wondering what the vampire — no, Aldrin — had done that made them so devout and full of hope, to come to the aid of a presumed monster meant to scare children into behaving.

"I don't want to enslave anyone," Aldrin quietly said. "My nature demands it, but it's not what I want." He sighed. "Truthfully, I'm just here because I need a foundation for my actual goal. Ebira would be a place to test myself. Inevitably, I will eventually be known to the rest of the world." He sat back down. "I would like your help before that time comes." He sighed, a heavy, world-weary sigh that nearly suffocated the room before he collected himself. "If not, then point me to someone who can."

Moira was quiet, lost in her thoughts, and Aldrin let her come to a decision in the lull of their conversation. Finally, she released the tension that had bunched her shoulders. "I'll help on one condition."

That seemed to relax Aldrin a lot more than he thought it would. "A bargain. Good." He thought to himself and nodded for her to continue since that was something he could work with.

"Help me deal with some old friends of mine, and the city is yours," she said.

"Dangerous friends?" Aldrin asked.

Moira nodded. "You were going to run into them in the city anyway, but I figured if you really were serious, then show me by starting with them."

Aldrin nodded and offered his hand for her to shake. "You have a deal."

Moira looked at his hand, debating if she was making a deal with a devil before she relented and shook his hand. She was surprised to feel warmth from it since Vampires were undead, and warmth wasn't one of their qualities. Yet with the man in front of her, there had been nothing but warmth emanating from his words the whole time. The passion and fervor along with the determination that overshadowed the hunger never left his eyes. She could trust him.

Aldrin stood and moved over so he could see everyone's faces. "Before we begin, here is what I truly want Ebira to become in the long run." He waited, making sure everyone was attentive. "First and foremost, Ebira is a port town, meaning trading and smuggling both in secrets and items. We need those if we are going to contend with the other world's powers. Second is clearing Ebira of the gangs will set forth a myth of fear and reputation while creating a haven for those seeking asylum. Third is our first step to shaping the society we want to adopt when the war that is to come truly kicks off. Right now, the other Progenitors are consolidating their realms. I am a step or two behind. I need to catch up."

Jared raised his hand. "We are missing the most important piece of information, though." He said with a wry smile, and that worried Aldrin more than anything as he braced himself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. "We need a gang name," Jared proudly announced. "Something that gives fear and hope."

"No. You're not naming anything. You haven't even named the monsters Aldrin made yet," Pierre interjected.

Buramog-Kurdan cleared his throat. "Actually, he has. We were just waiting for the right moment to tell you."

Everyone turned to look at the Orc in heavy dark plate armor. Jared gave him a wide grin of encouragement. "They will be called Dak-Uetan, or Duskmaws in your tongue."

"Huh… Duskmaws.. that fits them," Evie said, feeling out both the Orcish way and common way.

Aldrin's system pinged in the corner of his vision, but he ignored it for now. He would wait until he was around them again to see what populated the blank spaces. "Alright, so what's our gang name then?"

Jared drummed on the table for dramatic effect, then held his breath, nearly turning blue before exhaling. "The Crimson Street Killers!" He announced with a wide grin.

"Absolutely not." Pierre flatly said.

Evie groaned, letting her head fall onto the table with a thump. "Jared…" she drawled, annoyed and amused at his antics.

"I like it," Buramog-Kurdan chimed in.

Tar-Xur remained quiet, as did Aldrin, but Moira looked at everyone, seeing the camaraderie in full effect. "This is who is going to run the gangs out of town…" she muttered in disbelief.

"Oh, lady, you haven't seen us work yet," Jared wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Somebody stop him…" Aldrin put his head in his hands.

"I'm just getting warmed up!" Jared excitedly said and stood, racing for the stairs. "Come on, Buramog! We've got a town to take over!" He rushed up the steps.

Buramog-Kurdan looked at Aldrin and he waved him off. "Keep out of trouble. I'll contact him when we have something to do." Buramog-Kurdan tapped Tar-Xur and the two Orcs walked up the steps that creaked and groaned under their combined weight.

"Was that wise to do?" Moira asked the rest of the group.

"It was either that or let him keep going down here." Pierre informed.

Moira looked back at the steps then back at the rest of them. "But we didn't even get a name?"

"The town will name us," Aldrin confidently said. "Once we start dismantling the gangs piece by piece, of course," he smiled. Moira wondered what ran through his mind to give such an easygoing smile at the notion of taking over gang territories when they have enough trouble with taking some from each other already.

Pierre produced a map from his inventory. "Before coming here, Evie and I found a little shop that sold us a map of the town." He said, spreading it over the table. "Moira, can you draw out the gang territories?"

"It will take me a minute, but yes," she said, getting up to look over the map.

For the next fifteen minutes, Moira carefully drew black lines on the map that sectioned it off, then she took out colored pencils and colored in the different parts of the city in color. When she was finished, she sat back and took out a brown leather notebook. She flipped through it, labeling the colored parts with the different gang names. Pierre studied the map as she made it, cataloguing everything and mentally filing it away as he memorized street names and which gangs brushed up against whom.

"It's done," Moira said, looking over the new color-coded map. "Everyone ready?" She asked, and everyone nodded their heads. "Good. Let's begin plotting." And everyone present gave her their undivided attention.