The Kingdom of the Emerald Hills

He stood on a distant hill staring at the freehold, nose twitching in the warm breeze as the smell of gangrene drifted across the area, better than roses. These people had not fared well in their last battle against the forces of the kingdom. The Rat stood tall under the shade of the lone tree, other abominations near him, waiting patiently for the barbarian general to call the attack towards them. The Rat turned to his second in command and nodded, this would be a crucial battle in their plan.

Finally. The poorly armed and trained fighters fell beneath the monster horde quickly in the first push. The dark cleric keeping the invaders alive and powerful. On the second push their plan started to come to fruition. The Rat stood there watching the plague work its way through a chosen few as they began to scream in pain as their body started to heat up and shift. Their comrades around them jumping back in confusion. That moment was enough. Before they could comprehend how two wererats had infiltrated their ranks they were upon them.

More pushes happened and more wererats sprung from the defending army. Near the end it was a swarm and The Rat simply stood and watched, the malicious grin of satisfaction on his face. He had his army now and he knew it would keep growing. His work was done. The Rat stood, watching his creations do exactly as he planned. He turned around and left, he would call upon them later.

The infestation had begun.

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I have centuries to discover the things that make you whimper and millennia to make you enjoy them.

Falador, worn from his recent visit in tanglewood sat under a tree to rest, as he sat, mind deep in thought, he reflected his time there and realized that the realm was changing, "changing for the better!" he thought as he faded unconcious into sleep.
There was a distinct smell of immense fear and blood seeping from the scattered memories of what Falador knew to be dreams. flashes of heavy claws from tattered beasts, and jagged teeth. Falador felt cold. Cold, now shivering in his sleep his dream transitioned into a calm peaceful state, where he appeared to be delighted and showered with an abundance of allies and smiling faces....faces smiling, but not peaceful. estatic emotions from carnivirous monsters glowing with death. smeared visions of wererats ripping through an army of prey, ravishing in their blood and a malicious red haired man overseeing it all. an army of beast rose and marched, as his dreams left him he began to feel cold again, then pain, deep pain, splintering pain, aching in every spot of the barbarians body. aweful gutbusting pain, pain from plague leaving the body. Falador's brow wet from the fading memories that left him with an uneasy uncertainty about what was instored for the future, is this battle going to happen? has it happened? why was his dreams like this? Falador asked himself in an array of confusion.