“Isn’t it funny?” Drakthareon the Grim, formerly known as [Retired Professor] Jeremy, was saying. “I’m the farthest thing from grim these days, but back then was a different story...Anyways, all my friends call me—well, all my friends called me Drak, before…well never mind that. So if you’d like to…”

Drakthareon rattled as they walked, and Kalin wondered if it would be rude to suggest placing some rags in the man’s ribcage to stop the noise. Probably. What would you think if someone asked you to swallow a towel to soak up all that liquid sloshing around in your—

Okay, that didn’t make sense, but Kalin still didn’t think it would be polite, so he didn’t say anything.

As Kalin tried to decide how exactly he was going to explain the presence of an undead creature to the city of Krinth, Sam chatted with said creature. After the initial shock, she seemed more curious than anything. Kalin remembered his initial, not quite cordial encounter with the [Tanner], but found himself too tired to be properly offended by her easy acquaintance with a [Bloodthirster], Sanctified or not.

Apparently Drak had once been an unthinking servant to a powerful [Lich], obediently serving his master and rising up the ranks until he was bestowed a new class. [Bloodthirster]s got some semblance of cognition and free will, and, well, Drak had made use of it to get the hell out.

Kalin gathered that it involved a rousing night-time escape and a down-on-his-luck [Holy Priest] with a heart of gold.

He wondered if Drak wasn’t just some sort of high-level [Actor] with a talent for disguises and a love for tricking people.

As the two of them got to know each other like old pals, Kalin tried to [Meditate] as they walked back down the sewer to the inn’s cellar. And to solve the issue of bringing an undead creature into Krinth. Undead were killed on sight without exception as far as he knew, and even though they’d tried that to little effect…

He listened in as he heard Sam ask how exactly Drak had managed to sneak himself into the town and stay disguised. That would be relevant, at least, and he was curious himself how he’d managed to spend a full day with an undead creature without even suspecting anything.

Drak gave a tinkling little laugh that reminded Kalin of someone pretending to be a [Noble] or [Aristocrat] in a play.

“I hunched, my dear. You know, like the weight of the world is just sitting there on your back? All the expectations, failures, petty disappointments of life…”

Sam grinned and gave the eight-foot tall Bloodthirster a light shove. Smiling back with his rows of evil teeth, Drak shifted the large burlap sack on his back to one shoulder and gave her a playful flick with a long index finger-bone.

Kalin tried to ignore the sack and focus on his Mana recovery. But it was dripping, and every time it did…

Drip….drip…….drip.

Unable to take it any longer he sped up, shouldering past the two new friends to get some distance. He needed to think, to focus. He heard Drak’s snicker as he passed.

“Well, someone’s had a bad day.”

“A bad—”

Kalin fumed. If it hadn’t been for Sam’s assurance that being “Sanctified” actually meant something, he would have fought Drakthareon to the death, and one of them would be laying back in the fetid green sludge of the sewer. He wasn’t having a bad day, he was having…some sort of crisis of perspective. Kalin had sworn to defeat the Scourge, and he’d said that assuming it meant all undead. Yet here he was, walking alongside one like it was no big deal. Sure, Drak seemed like an intelligent, if somewhat over-the-top, sentient being, but…

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Tears pricked at Kal’s eyes, and he swiped his face with the back of his sleeve before realizing it was filthy. He stopped walking for a moment and closed his eyes, leaning up against the stone wall in absence of his staff.

He had sworn. His family and all his friends had been murdered by the undead, and here he was—

A large, cold hand dropped onto his shoulder, and he heard Drak’s voice, uncharacteristically serious.

“Are you alright, Kalin? Truly, I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just, well honestly it’s been so long since I’ve been able to talk to someone, you know, and I do get carried away. I know—” Drakthareon’s voice caught in a hitch, though how that happened without a throat Kalin had no idea. “I know many humans have been…horribly wronged and hurt by my kind, and I—I am sorry, for what it’s worth.”

Kal nodded, then stared at the sack over the Bloodthirster’s shoulder. “Are you going to eat the rest of him?” he asked quietly. Even in the dripping, stinking sewers, it felt profane to even voice the words.

Drak nodded. “I am. He was an evil man, Kalin. I feed like this when the opportunity arises.” He shrugged. “It is…my nature.”

Kalin had long thought that no-one was just purely “evil.” Life was too complicated for that.

But wasn’t that exactly what he thought about the undead? Even with proof laid bare to his living eyes that a sentient and rational undead being stood before him?

Kalin sighed. This was not an issue he was going to resole tonight, so he let it go. Soon they were at the entrance to the [Innkeeper]’s cellar, and they needed to decide what to do.

“We’ll have this talk another time,” he said eventually. “We’ve got more pressing concerns right now, like how to explain to the town that there’s a friendly Bloodthirster moving in. Unless you’re going back to your [Retired Professor] disguise?”

Drak shook his head, then turned back the way they’d come. His glowing eyes left little blurring afterimages in Kal’s vision in the dark. “I have, err, put that disguise behind me, as it were. It was a temporary solution.” Kal nodded. He’d expected as much when the flesh started coming off. Drak hesitated.

“Ah, there’s just one thing,” he said, looking for the first time rather uncomfortable. “I can taste—that is, when a [Bloodthirster]—a [Sanctified Bloodthirster] rather…well, it’s true for regular ones too, but when we, ah, taste flesh…consume it, I mean…”

Kalin waited. The point would come eventually. Or it wouldn’t, and he would stand there waiting until the stars fell from the sky and the gods came back to claim their home. Either way, there was nothing to do but watch the show.

Eventually, Drak got to the point, and Kalin shot a look at the Bloodthirster.

“Wait. Just to be clear. You can taste…memories?”

Drak bobbed his head side to side. “Mmm, not quite. Intentions, yes. Memories are more…you know when you eat a rotten piece of meat, there’s that certain aftertaste, er, after? It’s more like that.”

Kalin nodded like that made any sense to him.

“Anyways, like I was saying. I can taste intentions, and, well—our friend here wasn’t just a [Bandit] I believe. He was something of a [Bandit Lord] as far as I can tell. Or [Commander] or something. It seems there’s something of a plot afoot involving Krinth. The taste was smoky, which often implies…”

Even after the very long day he’d had, Kalin found himself listening with no trouble to Drak’s rambling message. An unfamiliar wariness or reticence had entered his tone, and a shiver went up Kalin’s spine. He didn’t know exactly what being a [Bloodthirster] meant, but he assumed it wasn’t a push-over class.

“So there’s just one thing. About going up there, I mean. There, ahh—might be more bandits waiting for us…one or two, maybe three,” Drakthareon said.

“Companies, that is. Two or three companies. Of bandits. So…maybe we…shouldn’t?”

Kal’s face would’ve been bloody and bruised if he had slapped himself in the forehead every time he’d wanted to in the past hour.

“Drak, are you saying that there are three hundred bandits outside of this cellar?”

“Well, I’m not sure exactly how many, but…something like that, yes.”

“Why,” Kalin managed to grind out, “didn’t you mention this earlier?”

The Bloodthirster looked affronted. “Why, we were having such a nice time!”

Sam looked thoughtful and only slightly panicked, which Kalin admired. “Could you tell what sort of plan the bandits had? I mean, they weren’t just planning on taking over the whole town I assume, right?” It came out like a nervous joke, but Drakthareon winced.

“Err, no, by which I mean yes, that’s exactly what they seem to be planning.”