Finally, after hours and hours of walking over the mountains and admiring the dull landscape of the Prime Crest, at night Aran arrived to the hamlet of Callblockades, barged into some crude dwarven shack and immediately went into the world of dreams.
He had a strange set of dreams, something he has never experienced or, rather, that never really bothered him: he recalled the days of his childhood, when the world was brand new and promising something, and the new race was finding its way in peace. Then he recalled the days he spent gazing onto the Ashen Ocean, hoping to find something interesting in the dark, endless waters. Aran recalled the dim images of his friends, killed ages ago, be it a minotaur rampage or goblin assault. He even catched
her glimpse, before everything fading away...
And so he woke with a terrible fever. He swore his skin was lava-hot, and that his head was going to explode. Some of the most poor and dirtiest dwarves he had ever seen had that grave fever too, moaning from time to time in their sleep
'Where did I end?'
The Fatal Wastes opened before him as he opened the door. The red, furious sun was rising up, illuminating the boring wastes of bones and brown filth and grime. If only it could purge the evil...
He heard a soft cracking in some of the houses. He opened the door to see the most shocking picture: a rotting body of some dead dwarf was mauling other, living dwarf to death. And then the freshly-killed body would stand up too, and maim the living, spreading the disaster. Aran had no choice but to put those monstrosities down, to no awail, as they kept raising up and up. Soon the citizens woke up, and with terrible screams they started to fight.
'Could the vampire be the source of this?' - he thought as he ran off from one house to other, seeking the rogue miner vampire.
It was standing in a corner, smirking at the despair of others. Aran called him out on his depraved nature, and the enraged townfolk, that before might've been scared or not, quickly disposed of the vampire, while having to deal with newly raised corpses.
The outbreak had no brakes, and Aran did not want to end up like the zombies, forever doomed to wail around in this cursed land. He decided to flee, as he couldn't help them yet, and frankly, it wasn't his personal problem. The agonizing screams were pretty horrifying anyway.
There was an other place to check, some werebeast cave.
'This shouldn't be a big problem' - he thought, but something wasn't quite right.
And indeed, when he approached the beast, it was killed by Aran with no much effort, with swift and precise stabs of his trusty dagger. But as he ventured further into the dug out lair the creature called its home, he heard strange sounds. The massive bleeding body, partially covered in fur, which was partially plucked out, stood up behind him.
Aran tried to stab it with his hefty steel spear, but it merely tore some muscles. Immediately he received a bone-shattering punch into his right shoulder, causing him to endure the pain he has never known before. He tried to run away, but the steel clench of the beast was unbreakable, and Aran was too weak and soft, and already bleeding out, and he was losing his conciousness under the strikes...
'Did it really have to end like this?'
I will upload the turn save later today, sorry for the inconvenience