Fates of Grenora: Return of the Night

Aldrin donned the cloak's hood to block out the stinging of the sun as it beat down on them again. A few clouds passed over, but thanks to the magical smoke being produced in the city, most of the clouds dissipated. Still, it didn't alleviate the effects of Daywalker. If anything happened while in the city when he was this weak, he wouldn't stand a chance, he thought, looking at his reduced Stats.

Soon they were thrown amongst the throngs of people going every way, calling shouts of warning as they ran by. There were Humans walking along with fancy dressed Orcs, Dwarves and Wood elves intermingled as they listed the types of potions they needed, a few glimpses of Half-Elves and Half-Orcs were spotted too. The three had to be quick so they wouldn't get separated and swept away with the ongoing crowd.

People working in shops stood off to the side, calling out wares that were for sale. The factories and laboratories made the streets feel more cramped as a few towered over others, casting long shadows. The streets themselves were a hodgepodge of dirt paths going into cobbled stone as if someone tried to upgrade and gave up halfway through.

Finding an alley that was devoid of people, the three found refuge there, away from the busy street. Aldrin had been holding his breath the whole time, feeling weird because it felt as natural as breathing. His mind still tried to reconcile that it was no longer necessary to breathe. Knowing if he inhaled the scents of the living would make him lose his mind, especially since he hadn't been fully satiated. Once again, the fear of civilization crept into the back of his mind. This was dangerous, but the reward of this all would be worth it.

"Alright, now that we are here, I have the first piece of the puzzle," Aldrin announced. "Heilsdale Flower," he said.

Jared and Pierre looked at him for an explanation.

"It's a poison either to me or Vampires as a whole," he explained.

"That's what took you out last night? How many drinks did you have?" Jared asked, concern laced in his voice.

"It was three shots, and it was enough to take me down," Aldrin remembered.

Pierre huffed, "Heilsdale Flower, huh. . ." He placed his hands on his hips.

"We'll look for it then," Jared said.

All of them stepped onto the road and split up from there. Because it was Aldrin's first time in Lor-Vold, he was lost as to where to start. So he started walking back towards the entrance gate, hoping to hear one of the street vendors advertising something that would be a lead. A part of him wished that Adeline were here with him, knowing she had a knack for finding things that didn't want to be found. Of course, that also made him shudder because of the scout Ingram sent that followed them, which undoubtedly reported back to Adeline as soon as they entered the city. He knew they had to be quick if they were to escape before Adeline marched into town with her men demanding ‌the "Lord" Aldrin played.

Hopeful still, Aldrin walked along, bumping into a group of Dark Elves, who hissed at him even though they were the ones who bumped into him. Trying to keep himself from ripping into them, he hurried away until he saw someone armored like a Paladin head into a shop called The Banished Beast. Intrigued, he window shopped along the street, keeping The Banished Beast within sight until he saw the Paladin walk out and disappear among the crowd.

The door chimed upon entering, alerting the Hobgoblin clerk, who turned around ready to greet the next customer with a toothy smile. Aldrin had to do a double take because the brown scaled Hobgoblin was wearing round, black-rimmed glasses that enlarged his brown eyes to a ridiculous degree and a checkered patterned black and cyan shirt that made him slightly dizzy if he stared too long.

The hobgoblin cleared his meaty throat. "Welcome to the Banished Beast! Where we sell potions fit for a monster's weakness!" Its voice was guttural, like its throat tightened up from speaking.

Blinking for a second, "Uh, hi," Aldrin gave a wave, stepping into the store fully. Glass cases filled with different colored potions were lit up from the inside and lined against the brick walls of the shop.

"First time in the city?" The clerk asked, noticing Aldrin's eyes wander to the glass cases.

Aldrin nodded while the Hobgoblin returned a bigger smile.

"What are you looking for, then? We've got poisons, antidotes, oils, remedies, and resistance potions?" The Hobgoblin listed.

"My village has a Feral Vampire problem, and I need to know if there is anything that will help?" Aldrin lied.

The Hobgoblin tapped his chin with his clawed hand before snapping his fingers. He jumped down from the stool he stood on and ran to the furthest corner of the store, where a stepladder leaned against the wall. Grabbing it and rushing back closer to Aldrin, he stopped at a glass case that held a murky brown colored oil that was in a glass flask and a silver glowing potion. He gently pulled them both out one by one and sat them on the counter.

"These should help," he offered the potions for Aldrin to Inspect.

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"Is there one that cures Disease?" Aldrin asked with hope, seeing that he was on the right track.

The Hobgoblin shook his head. "Only ones that prevent it from happening."

"Do you know where I could go for potions like those?" Aldrin pressed.

"Someone bit?"

"Yes."

The hobgoblin flattened his big, long-tipped ears, adopting a look of sympathy., "Kill them. No hope for them."

Taken aback at the abrupt response, Aldrin figured he wouldn't get any help here. "I'll look somewhere else then, thanks for your time," he said while leaving the store.

"Good luck though!" He heard the hobgoblin say before the door closed.

Back on the street, Aldrin tugged on his hood as a breeze drifted by, kicking up some dirt from the foot traffic. Stepping onto the highway, so to speak, he let himself walk along with the crowd, looking at the various shops, hoping to see something. For five hours, he had walked along his section of the Production District and found nothing but dead ends. What was worse was that his need for blood had grown substantially, and by then, each person he looked at made his stomach erupt in sharp jabs.

He stumbled into the alley between two buildings and sat down as the pain in his stomach grew. "Please, just a little longer," he begged as the sun made its downfall below the horizon, bringing this part of the world into the twilight hours.

Determined to keep heading towards The Gleaming Marigold, with the hope of crossing paths with someone, he braced himself against the wall and pushed himself back onto the street. Soon he felt powerful hands grip both of his arms and drag him off the street. With Daywalker still active, he stood no chance against whoever this was.

"You don't look so good," Pierre addressed once they were off the street.

"How did you find me?" He asked, as Pierre's discovery of Aldrin surprised him.

"I am a Tracker for one. For two, you look like a stumbling old man that's waddling around, and for three I heard you say my name on the wind if that makes sense?" Pierre frowned.

Aldrin frowned as well, "But I didn't. . .well not exactly, I was just hoping to run into you or Jared."

Then realization bloomed on their faces. "Servant," they both said in unison.

"That's a hidden perk then," Aldrin surmised, remembering the wispy light from earlier.

A flask of dark red liquid appeared in Pierre's hand. "Here," he said, offering it to Aldrin.

Aldrin took it and uncapped it, his Thirst compelling him to get every last drop. "Who's blood is this?" he asked after finishing.

"Don't worry about it because you would hate yourself even more and, besides that, any luck with the cure?" Pierre inquired.

"Everything is a dead end on my sections. You?" Aldrin asked.

"Nothing either, BUT! I did find out more about the Heilsdale Flower and the Alchemist Profession," Pierre said, helping Aldrin to his feet again. "We have to go find Jared, though."

Together they strode off towards Jared's portion of the Production district, where they easily found him as he too was on his way back to the inn. They exchanged information; however, Jared had a playful smirk on his face. "Guess what I learned."

"What?" Aldrin asked.

"The Alchemists here have been capturing and experimenting on the Undead," Jared informed.

Aldrin stopped walking as a sense of fear shot up his spine. "That's illegal! Do they want to have another outbreak like Vaultstrand?!"

"What happened in Vaultstrand?" Jared asked.

"Basically, my whole reason for joining the Holy Order to begin with," Aldrin said, still not ready to talk about it.

Both of them looked at each other, then back at Aldrin, waiting for him to explain more.

"Vaultstrand was home to a group of Tier 4 and 5 Mage Classes who sought immortality and turned themselves into liches by capturing the souls of the city in some crazy ritual and created a minor zombie apocalypse," He let out to appease their curious looks.

Both of their eyebrows shot up to the top of their heads as their mouths hung open, "If the Alchemists here are trying to do the same as the Mages in Vaultstrand then we better hurry and get out of here," Jared said after recovering from his shock.

The walk back was silent as each came to the grim resolve that Lor-Vold may be the next cataclysm if things went south. Arriving at The Gleaming Marigold, Thakheam gave them a wave and offered them shots, which Pierre vehemently declined before they went to their usual corner booth. The inn wasn't as crowded as it was last night when they first arrived, but the night was still young before people returned here to unwind. The three of them sat for another hour, with them discussing the potential conflict in the Research District with the Alchemists studying the Undead then they moved on to their next topic; the Heilsdale Flower.

"Apparently, the Heilsdale Flower is the only known flora to have an effect against the Undead. It's instant death if too much is used, but little amounts act as a numbing agent for them," Pierre explained.

"Can it be used to make a cure?" Aldrin asked.

Pierre shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe, but I would have to take the Alchemist Profession and study it."

"Then you would be known as the man that cured Vampirism," Jared teased.

"Would that be something you're willing to do?" Aldrin hesitantly asked.

Pierre studied Aldrin, seeing the hope trying to surface. "I can try, but I can't make any promises," he offered.

"Better than nothing, so I'll take it. Thank you, Pierre."

Thakheam had brought ale to the table this time, as well as grilled wolf's ribs with carrots and green beans tossed in some type of sweet sauce. If Aldrin could cry, he would, as he wasn't able to taste any of it as Jared and Pierre voraciously gobbled it down, describing the flavors to Aldrin. Finishing up, they each paid 55 Bronze coins for it. Aldrin had asked about the fee for the rooms, which Jared ensured not to worry about it.

"Tomorrow, Pierre gets his Alchemist Profession and then we will see about these rumors about the study of Undead here," Aldrin proposed. Both of them nodded in agreement and retired to their rooms. Aldrin went on his own and undressed, dropping his armor on the floor to sleep in his shirt and pants. Closing his eyes, Aldrin got comfy and settled in for the night, ignoring the alert of his Daywalker disabling.

"Help ussss," a disjointed, wispy voice whispered in his ear.

Aldrin bolted up, his sword drawn as the full might of his Stats and abilities flooded back to him. He searched the room but found nothing, even with his predator vision activated.

"Help ussss," the same wispy voice whispered in his ear.

This time Aldrin whipped around, facing the window. He tentatively walked towards it, sword angled for a quick lunge. He slowly opened the window and looked around at the street below, seeing only patrolling guards.

"Help ussss, pleassseee!" This time Aldrin heard the pain in its voice as his gaze locked onto the area where the Research District was located. An intense rage bubbled up and threatened to radiate outwards before it settled back to wherever it had come from.

"Shit. . ." Aldrin's tense shoulders dropped as he lowered his sword.