Fates of Grenora: Return of the Night

"The Horde will do so," the broken whispers of the Zombies tickled Aldrin's ears.

Uncaring of who saw him, he exploded into bats, flying to a nearby rooftop. He felt for Pierre through the Servant bond they shared. Something muffled it, almost as if there was a blockage. He closed his eyes and pushed past the flimsy barrier that dared to obstruct him. There was a sense of direction returned that pulsed like a beacon. With the location in mind, he reformed into bats, headed for Pierre's location.

Down below, he saw people scrambling towards the remains of the inn, trying their best to help. He had also seen some run in the opposite direction with complete fear in their eyes. He stamped down the Human part of him, letting the Vampire take the forefront. In doing so, his emotions for those who would not make it through the night dulled.

He arrived in the area that Pierre's beacon led him to be. It was in a rundown part of the Residential District that he hadn't fully explored yet. Most of the buildings in this part were boarded up and in disrepair. He wondered what Pierre was doing in a place like this.

The beacon he shared went silent, giving him no other direction where to turn. Forgoing any restrictions he placed on himself since being here. He inhaled, taking in the scents of the city. Predatory instincts threatened to overwhelm his mind, but he was too angry, too focused to let it cloud his judgment. From what Aldrin could pick up on, there were people in this area, and now all he had to do was find the ones he needed.

His transformation had elevated his sense of smell, allowing him to pinpoint where clusters of people gathered inside the buildings. Determined to find Pierre, he tugged on their bond again, receiving a pull to his right. He followed it as it led him to a ruined cottage house that was discreetly tucked away behind more abandoned houses. It was rundown, like the rest of the area, dirty and dingy, and parts of it started falling apart. Movement on the roof caught his attention, drawing his eyes to see more robed figures he believed to be the Homunculi. They dropped from the roof, landing with a clank, and disrobed themselves, revealing their porcelain featureless forms.

Snarling, he dashed forward with Shapechange, distracting them with his swarm as he rushed past them to appear behind them. Grabbing them by the back of the neck, he squeezed, making them claw at his hands to break free. Their smooth heads popped off soon after. He whipped around, drawing his sword, and marched up the steps to the rotting wooden door. The door shattered into pieces when Aldrin kicked it. The inside was dusty and old. More Homunculi jumped down from the rafters of the building, obstructing Aldrin from advancing. He made quick work of them when he used Cleaving Strikes bisecting them at the waist.

His vision saw no white silhouettes in the building, making him wonder what brought him here. Taking his first step into the house, the floorboards creaked under his weight. He cautiously explored ‌the rundown house. He inhaled again, breathing in the stale air that had a tinge of something else, something familiar. Outside, he could faintly hear the alarm bells beginning to ring, increasing his sense of urgency to find his friends.

Going back outside, he went around to the back of the house, finding a latched cellar door. He ripped off the door and entered the dark cellar. Blood and rotting meat assaulted his nose when he inhaled, which made his stomach groan and do a somersault at the same time. Coming down to the last step, the cellar was filled with large barrels that were used for brewing at one point.

The rotten smell emitted from the rows of barrels. Carefully and slowly, he opened the barrel, revealing a butcher shop of limbs; arms, legs, hands, feet, and torso were all thrown in regardless of who they were from. He closed it, the image of the mass of body parts seared in his mind. He had done worse lately, but he never dismembered them piece by piece, or at least not intentionally, as he remembered the last guy he fed on when he took his arm. This act that filled the barrel was intentional and out of sheer morbid curiosity. He clenched his fist, drawing blood as his claws punctured ‌his tough skin. He checked each barrel, which numbered six barrels, and each barrel had body parts or mutilated bodies, possibly from the missing people.

He looked down to see a caked trail of dried blood leading behind a wall. He frowned, knowing he had no time to find a quiet approach to unlocking this. Balling up his fist, he struck the wall, making the foundation of the house shake and years of dust fell around him on impact. He pulled back, revealing a small spiderweb of cracks centered on the indentation of his fist. Marveling and appreciating his new Strength, he looked down at his hand, seeing that it was unblemished. He continued to strike at the wall until it crumpled, revealing a dark tunnel and the smell of fresh, spilt blood.

Vampiric instincts edged him towards a frenzy when the smell wafted in his nose. He fought for dominance against whatever mental entity raged within him. "Don't let it win," he told himself when he ventured forth into the dark tunnel. It was a windy path with only one way forward. A burgeoning light source dimly lit the space ahead of him once he rounded the last bend of the tunnel, making him stop in shock.

The dim lighting from dying torches showcased at least eight other people who were hanging on hooks. Each hook was embedded in their shoulders as they hung from the ceiling of the tunnel. Their toes dragged as they swayed, causing each of them to squirm in pain at the discomfort as black sacks Aldrin was familiar with covered their faces. He stepped into the room, wary of anything that deigned to jump out at him. The lighting was barely visible, but to Aldrin it wouldn't matter. Passing ‌between the hanging people, he took it nice and slow to touch them. He made it to the other side of the area without any incident, but it still sickened him to see. Whoever this was knew they would never get caught from the brazen display of his living victims, which made Aldrin clench his teeth in anger.

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Gleeful humming echoed further down the tunnel behind a walled off section. Looking back at the people, the dripping blood from their wounds worked tirelessly to tempt Aldrin into giving in. Unveiling one of them, he came face to face with a beaten Evie.

"Evie?" He worked on the hook in her shoulder. Her face was bloodied and swollen enough that it forced both of her eyes shut.

"'I'm going to get you out of here."

She groaned in response as Aldrin finally got the hook out of her. She tried to hold in her scream through gritted teeth, making the gleeful humming stop. Looking up towards the section of the walled off area of the tunnel, Aldrin watched the door warily then blended into the dark spaces using Shapechange. The door opened, revealing a short, gaunt looking dwarf who hid his features underneath a skull mask. His stature wasn't as surly or beefed up as other Dwarves, but he was more lean and a little slimmer, which Aldrin noted for later.

"Fuck me…" Aldrin thought once he used Inspect.

Still, whatever resided inside him rose to the challenge with malice and ambition. The Vampire demanded blood, and Aldrin wasn't going to needlessly throw his life away over some whim. Fighting the urge to attack, he waited and watched the Dwarf as he came scurrying towards Evie, rubbing his hands together.

"What's this? You got loose?" The dwarf's jovial voice ringed, coming up to Evie and placing her against the wall.

"I needed a new body, anyway. That one in there is going through the finishing touches!" He clapped to himself and began humming again.

Aldrin read the alert before a sudden explosion and earthquake followed suit.

"What in all Abyss!" the Dwarf said before scurrying back into the back room. Aldrin took the chance to move into the shadow above the door. Who knew that the age-old saying of people not looking up would become his best friend during these times. He watched the dwarf run out of the room, followed by three robed figures Aldrin assumed to be where the Homunculi came from.

Waiting until he could no longer hear the footsteps of the four, he dismissed Shapechange, dropping back onto the ground in a crouch. He checked on Evie before he ventured into the back room of the tunnel. The room was filled with tubes leading into an enclosed metal chamber that looked more like a coffin than anything. Bloodied tools were strewn about, as were the strapped chairs that used to keep the unwilling occupants from running. A few of those black silk sacks were hung along the walls, giving the impression that whoever this was had ties with the Research District.

"Tanyth." Aldrin growled once he saw the sacks.

He dreaded opening the metal chamber as the tubes hissed from the releasing pressure. Unlocking it, Aldrin slowly opened it up as steam clouded his vision. He waved it away and recoiled at the sight of what used to be the Bugbear, Khudar. Half of him was converted into the featureless form of a Homunculus, while the other part of him remained disfigured and dissected.

The dwarf had keenly butchered him, giving ground for whatever transformation process had begun. Aldrin breathed in trying to see if the Bugbear still held on to whatever brief life was left in him, but all he smelled were the chemicals and mixtures. He removed the Bugbear that was strapped with needles meant for whatever injections were taking place. Gently laying him on the floor, Aldrin offered a quick prayer and promised that the Dwarf would not get away with this no matter how long it would take him.

"The more I think I know the System, the more it surprises me by letting me know how much I actually don't know," Aldrin said once he finished reading it.

Another explosion from above rocked the ground beneath him as it nearly threw him off his feet this time. He hurried back to Evie, who still sat against the wall, leaning to one side as she struggled to get her bearings.

"Hey," he gently coaxed, placing a hand on her that made her flinch away.

"Evie," he coaxed again but was met with another flinch.

"I need you to take a Health Potion if you have one, okay? I don't have one on me." He cursed himself for being unprepared, something his whole family would have reprimanded him for.

He left her there to focus on regaining at least a portion of herself, since there was no telling what she had been through when they last saw each other earlier. He worked on the other victims, taking them off the hooks that were embedded in their shoulders. A firm hand soon gripped his shoulder. Evie stood, looking down on him, letting the swollenness of her face rapidly recede.

They glanced at each other, at least as much as Evie could glance at him because of the low light. Sharing an understanding, they got to work on treating the victims as the explosions up above became a frequent occurrence.