In our quest for the Swamp Titan of Seasonskunks, we quickly find ourselves passing through Dwarven lands.
I must admit I have little knowledge of them, but they seem a reasonably virtuous people, barring the occasional magma-spewing deathtrap of a fort. Far better than the mad elves who eat the corpses of their fallen foes. As night falls, we stop in one of their hillocks for shelter from the bogeymen. As I no longer have a need for sleep, I pull out the slab I took from Gemmoistens, the necromancers' tower. Perhaps I may gain some insight into why...
Well, shit. I drop the cursed object as quickly as I can and leave in much the same manner.
My companion still suspects nothing. When I must feed I tell him to wait in the wilderness while I do what I must. Often I find my mind wandering to my first drink of life, and the flush of power it granted me. In moments of weakness I even consider breaking my vow to never feed on the good races of this world. Fortunately, this second power has no unholy upkeep to pay. We must press forward, and with haste.
In my rush to continue our journey, I seems to have lost my follower. Whether he deliberately abandoned me or was simply left behind my superhuman speed is a mystery. No matter, this is a matter for me alone, for it was I that brought the swordsman to the cyclops' cave, and thus it is my duty to honour his last request.
My travel brings me to a great mountain range. It takes me the better part of the day to cross it, which would be unbelievably fast for any normal man, but in my current state is painfully slow. I take this irritation out on a wild boar; without even thinking, I strike it down with two blows to the head.
I raise my hand, ready to kill the rest of the herd, before I regain my composure. Am I going mad? I never would have done such a thing before I became a vampire. I feel anger at the smallest of inconveniences and I cannot... No. No, I will control this curse. Risas will give me strength.
Finally I come upon a human settlement.
Seasonskunks is far away and will take many days to reach.
Perhaps these folk have some trouble I might help them with.
This will do. It is on my path to the swamp titan and I have little reason not to deal with the ruffians.
On my way to Gulfpanted I find that a most curious odour pervades the surrounding area.
What could possibly cause bug innards to smell so strongly? Are my prepared damselfly brains haunting me?
As day breaks while I travel, I find a lair in the middle of the plains. No doubt it is home to some foul beast; I make to descend into it, but as I look about for the entrance I am beset upon by a pack of giant lions. Though many of my blows strike true, they are so large that my blade cannot bite deep enough to damage them.
Finally, however, I cut enough for it to fall over.
I drink deep, then finish the savage beast.
My attention soon turns to the other lion that attacked me, who proves less difficult to fell.
No doubt these were the denizens of the lair I sensed. I wipe the gore from my halberd and continue onward.