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[KhrisKruel]

Urist ran as fast as his furry feet could take him down the smooth stone corridor of the Fortress "GearedBalance." He huffed as his breathing began to catch up with him. He swooped by Kas who had stuck his head out to see what the commotion was.

"BLOOD BEAST!" Urist screamed, stopping only long enough to raise his hands over his head as far as he could.

Kas sipped the mead he was drinking. "What's a Blood Beast?" He asked casually.

Urist attempted to get his breathing under control. He bent over and put his hands on his knees. "Blood. Beast. Beast of Blood," he said between breaths.

"Does it have any weapons?" Kas asked, looking around for signs of the beast.

Urist stood back up. "WEAPONS?! The bloody monster has BLOOD in it's name! What more do you want?"

Kas sipped his mead, letting Urist catch his breath, "So it like, told you it was a blood beast? Is that when you ran away?"

Urist's blood began boiling. Why wouldn't you run from a dwarf that had transformed into a blood beast? That kinda is common knowledge.

"Kilrud turned into the damn thing in an explosion of dark magic! He was in incredible pain, and it just formed into this huge nine foot beast of blood and anger. You would've run as well," Urist said finally, crossing his arms.

Kas smiled and finished his drink. "Go grab the troops. We shall have a go at this blood beast."

-------------

Urist put his finger to his lips in front of the other recruits. Half the fortress was here. The leaders had been too busy making lamellar armor that they forgot basic weapons and protection. Daggers mostly, with a few copper axe and battle picks. The poor lads were nothing more than farmers and knew nothing of strategy.

Urist led them to the door to the pantry. They could hear it banging crates and barrels in rage. Kas silently opened the door, leaning against the wall, to get a better picture.

"Yep, definitely looks like a blood beast," he said definitely. Urist rolled his eyes.

"Can you stab a blood beast?" One of the recruits said. He got punched in the back from the dwarf behind him. "Of course. You can stab anything. It's a matter of how hard you stab." The other dwarves all murmured in agreement.

Kas looked at Urist. "So whats the plan boss?"

Urist smiled. He was the military expert here. "We're gonna all run in screaming and stab him."

"Brilliant," the recruit said, his eyes beaming. Everyone nodded in approval. Kas slammed the door open and charged.

[KhrisKruel]

Urist finished his mead and slammed the stone mug on the pine bar top. "Another..." he slurredly demanded.

"Look Urist, I think you've had enough. I think it's time to just find a normal mining job right outside of town and..." the bartender said.

"I'll tell you when I've had enough caravans! You don't tell me when I've had enough! I'll have had enough when we build a new capitol!" Urist screamed.

A dwarf in the corner stood up. "You're just the type of dwarf I'm looking for. Drunk, hot headed, and ready for adventure," he said, walking over to Urist. "I've got barrels of alcohol ready to go. We just need a good miner."

The caravan trip was uneventful. Urist stayed in the back playing with flint. Every night was the same dream. Everything burning. The barrels of alcohol exploding. The masterwork wood crafts burning. Everything burned. The flint burned in his hand. Sparks would hit the cart, but he could put them out in time. There would be no fires again. He would stop them.

Urist would scream in the kitchen when anything was burned. He wanted to eat it raw. Bloody. Dripping. At night, as the other dwarves slept, he would carve fires into the walls. Fires burning the barrels. Burning the sweet alcohol. No fires. Nothing needed to burn.

The caravan leader stopped Urist mining one day. "Urist, you need to get over this fire issue. You're scaring the other dwarves. Look, I bought us a hellfire turret. I placed it in the front of the entrance, nothing can burn but our enemies. Maybe you want to jump on the turret and burn some stuff, help you get through these issues?"

Urist wept in the seat of the turret. He didn't want to burn anything. He just wanted to mine. He just wanted to be near all the stone that couldn't burn. Mud can't burn. Water doesn't burn. He didn't care if no one liked him or talked to him. He could just mine in the dark pits where no one could burn.

The alarm went off. Silhouettes filled the the hill line. Warlocks! The walls the dwarves had built funnelled them into Urist. His hellfire turret! He had to BURN them. Warlocks would BURN URIST.

The fires of the turret burst forth onto the front two. The stone walls and ground didn't burn. Fire was good! It was burning the warlocks! Smoke plummeted out of their bodies as they screamed in agony. Their cries could have been his own. With laughter and a renewed determination, Urist would burn them all.

One of the warlocks slipped past the turret. Urist smirked at the warlocks' feeble attempt to escape him. His turret swivelled as he raced past. Urist saw the fire leap onto the warlock, and then onto the wooden trading post, then onto the Drow that inhabited the tradepost...then onto the grassy fields. Then the farms. Then the cloth stockpiles. Urist stopped firing. In that moment, Urist couldn't distinguish between reality and his dreams. The fires burned everything. The soot and crackle and screams. He closed his eyes but he still saw everything.

Urist ran. He kept running all the way to town. He kept thinking that if he could just get on another caravan...just another one...nothing would burn again...