Fates of Grenora: Return of the Night

Unnerved by the amount of zombies gathered, Aldrin didn't let it show, "How long until you attack?" He hesitantly asked.

The Zombie Giant moaned thoughtfully, "A month and we will have the strength," it answered, making the zombies howl and groan in anticipation.

Taking a hard gulp Aldrin steeled himself, "If I help you I kill the city and possibly cripple the world."

All eyes flickered to him, making Aldrin feel smaller than he already was. "You would side with the Living?" the horde asked.

A few zombies clacked their jaws as if they were preparing to rip into something. "Well, I need the living to live, don't I?" he asked.

The rising frenzy of the horde diminished soon after. "So do we, but the living have made their choice when they declared war on us for trying to live," the Giant replied.

Aldrin could not argue with that, knowing that he would be killed the moment he revealed himself, feral or not. "What if I give you specific targets to destroy?" he asked.

"If it frees those who are captured, we will concede," the Giant spoke for the horde that moaned in agreement.

"I will come back a week before a month is up then," Aldrin offered.

All the lifeless eyes of the horde flickered to Aldrin. "We accept the terms, Midnight Lord," the horde answered before they started burying themselves again.

He watched them all cover themselves, blending into the natural environment. After the last group was buried, he ran, the sunset rays irritating his skin when his hood flopped off in his mad dash. He had to hurry and catch Pierre to adjust their plans as they had decided beforehand to spend quite some time here developing his Profession.

The hues of purple and orange intermixed with the blue sky as the sun let nightfall embrace Grenora. Feeling the beginning of his powers brimming to return to him, Aldrin attempted Shapechange, flickering back and forth between the swarm of bats and himself. Once the last rays of the sun dropped below the horizon, Aldrin took off, flying as fast as he could through the air, careful to avoid prying eyes. He knew people rarely looked up, but that still didn't keep him from being cautious as he traveled over the walled city, fluttering past the still busy streets of people trying to get the last of their shopping done. He aimed for his open window at the Inn, crashing through it before anyone could take a guess at what flew overhead.

Reforming, he attempted to call out to Pierre through the Servant bond. Strangely, a pinging sensation was sent down by an invisible tendril, leaving the mind of Aldrin altogether. He waited for a response, so he drank the last of the blood vial and waited for Pierre.

An hour went by, and Pierre was nowhere to be found still, so he fell into meditation on his bed trying to glean how many potential zombies were in the Research District.

"Help usss," was all he got in return.

He couldn't rightly barge in there as the Research District was restricted to only the Profession or Class of Alchemist. A knock broke his concentration. He hopped up and opened for Pierre to come in.

"What's the emergency?" Pierre hurriedly asked.

Aldrin told him about the meeting with the zombie horde by Karvendal. Pierre's eyes widened slightly at the mention of an impending Undead attack in a month. "So we gotta hurry," he concluded after telling everything.

"That's an understatement," Pierre laughed nervously.

"I am kind of useless here, honestly," Aldrin stated.

Pierre scoffed, "Not necessarily. You're the only one who can talk to the Undead and understand them in equal measure."

"I guess you're right," he nodded.

Looking out the window towards the Research District, "Did you get your Profession by the way?" Aldrin asked.

"I did, but I have to spend a lot of time making specific potions in order to rank up the Skills," He grinned.

"Meaning you'll be in a lab all day?"

"When they assign me one, yeah."

"How did you ‌get it? What was the test?"

"I had to brew Minor Health and Magic potions to be considered, then I had to do it three more times for each before the System gave me the option to pick it as my Class or Profession."

"That sounds like a headache," Aldrin chuckled.

Pierre rubbed his forehead, revealing minor red welts from being burned on his fingers, "You have no idea, man."

"What will you do until Jared comes with your sister?"

He considered the question when he had an inkling. "Probably see what other hidden Vampire tricks I have," he answered.

"So you have thought about what you will do if you can't be cured?"

He scrunched up his face. "No, I haven't gotten that far yet. I'm still trying to adjust to my life now," he chuckled more.

Pierre didn't speak after that, taking the time to go over his to-do list regarding his Profession.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"OH FUCK YES!" Pierre pumped his fist.

Aldrin looked at him, making his face go red from the outburst. "I'm assuming it's something good?" He gently asked.

"Potentially; and this is not to promise you anything, but I have a Skill that would boost my chances of making a cure for you," Pierre announced.

Fully turning around, Aldrin hugged the man who awkwardly patted his back. "Thank you," he pulled back.

"No problem," he replied.

"Now I just hope Adeline comes rushing to the rescue like usual," Aldrin quipped.

"What is she like? You seem to care a lot for her approval, or at least something like that?" Pierre asked.

Aldrin turned to face Pierre again, giving a sad smile. "She raised me practically, and it's her voice I hear in my head whenever I am faced with a choice or unsure of which direction to go."

Pierre sat back, "And would she be proud of you now?"

"That's the thing, I don't know if she would hug me or kill me thinking I am possessed. She's an extremist for the people she loves," he reminisced.

"What about your family?"

Pierre raised his eyebrows. "I don't know. Jared and I looked for them the first thing we could, but this world is massive and easy to get lost in," Pierre quietly said, looking at the floor.

"I will help any way I can," Aldrin offered, staring intently into the brown eyes of Pierre.

"Huh, guess it's my time to thank you then," he nervously laughed off the overwhelming sincerity Aldrin conveyed. "But no, I don't think I want to find them. We left things on bad terms, and I don't know if I can face them after all these years again, here of all places."

"Well, if you ever change your mind, you have my help," Aldrin dropped the subject.

"Thanks," Pierre smiled, grateful he had dropped the subject.

Pierre's stomach growled, forcing him to depart to the first floor of the inn. Aldrin promised he would be down in a bit. Giving a casual wave of acknowledgement, Pierre placed down another blood vial from his inventory.

Pierre saw Aldrin's confused glance. "One day when you're cured, I'll tell you," he smiled and shook his head.

Once the door closed, Aldrin dove deep into meditation again, trying to pinpoint the horde of zombies by Karvendal that constantly sent a pulse back to him. He wasn't sure if it meant that the horde was ever increasing by the amount or pulses or if they were communicating with him. Choosing to think more about it later, he went downstairs, walking into a party.

Bards and Minstrels sang and danced on tables with their instruments. Thakheam was in full swing as he and another Dwarf worked to replenish the revolving tankards that filled the bar top. That didn't stop Aldrin from etching his way to the bar.

Thakheam turned around, "AYE ALDRIN MY BOY! Have a drink!" He bellowed with a happy-go-lucky smile, placing a frothing ale in front of him. It sloshed onto the bar top, but Thakheam paid it no mind.

The inn was packed to the brim as Elves, Humans, a few Dwarves and Goblins drank, danced, and sang their hearts out. Pierre was lost amongst the crowd, setting Aldrin on edge as he hoped he wasn't off having too many drinks. The wrong word of the plans their group possesses and not only would a threat be literally lying in wait outside the city, but the inside would no longer be safe. So Aldrin kept his hearing tuned to listen for Pierre's soft-spoken voice.

The night went on with the party as more tried to squeeze into the inn but failed to do so. Aldrin had to step outside as one too many people bumped into him, making the beast inside rear its ugly head in offense. Choosing to seclude himself away from other people in the courtyard, he hoped no one would bother him as he gained control over himself.

"Enjoying yourself?" A melodic voice tickled his ears.

Picking his head up from staring into his half filled tankard, bright pink upturned almond-shaped eyes filled his vision first. The woman in front of him had glossy amethyst skin that sparkled like she had little rhinestones beneath her skin whenever the light glimmered off her. Long pink-colored hair that matched her eyes draped over her petite frame. She wore leather armor much like his own, but the chest guard was silver, which made Aldrin's skin crawl.

"I needed some fresh air," Aldrin gave an easy smile, which eased her tense shoulders but did not ease the way she kept trying to peer into him with her eyes.

She cocked her head to the side as she stared at him. "I'm sorry to be so forward about this, but are you some type of Fae?" She examined him.

Aldrin laughed. "No, no, I am not, sorry," he waved her off.

"It's alright," she smiled, taking the seat across from him. "I just thought since your skin was glowing that you would be one?"

"My skin glows?" Confusion dawned on Aldrin's face.

The woman's eyes went wide as saucers. "Well, no! Not like actually glow. . .but like shine?" she stammered, trying to place the right word.

"It's just that I'm a Fae," she leaned in and whispered.

"Is that why your eyes are pink and you have amethyst-colored skin?" Aldrin asked, trying to hide the surprise at one of the Fae talking to him. "Oh, smooth, let's just ask the nice woman about her skin," Aldrin mentally kicked himself.

The woman gasped, "You can see through my Visage?" she whispered again.

"Am I not supposed to?" Aldrin whispered back.

"Only a few Races can," she said matter-of-factly.

"So what are you, then? A Moon Elf? Dark Elf? A halfling? You're definitely not part Goblin. . ." She trailed off.

Aldrin scratched the back of his head. "Uh. Well. It's complicated," he dodged.

"I like complicated," Her eyes glinted with mischievousness.

Aldrin nearly spat out his drink. "Oh, trust me! You don't want these complications!" He got up in a rush, speed walking away.

He maneuvered through the throngs of people to get back to the bar.

"Wow, no one's been able to walk away from me before!" The woman sidled up next to him, beaming with excitement.

Aldrin laughed awkwardly. "Listen, it's not that I don't want to; I can't." He took another swig, flaring his eyebrows to get Thakheam's attention, who was promptly ignoring him.

She snorted, "Did you think I wanted to. . ." She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

"You didn't?" he asked cluelessly.

She giggled, running her finger around the rim of her cup, "No."

"Oh, thank god!" Aldrin breathed a sigh of relief.

She gently laughed, "Gee, am I that bad?" she teased.

"Uh. No. Not at all," Aldrin replied, gulping down a big swig of ale to avoid the awkwardness.

"What brings you to Lor-Vold?" he asked, attempting to fix the atmosphere between them.

She bit her lip, then glanced at him. "I'm looking for someone. Someone important," she answered.