Vintage Story Wiki
The Final Hour (BR)
Lore section: finalhour
betterruins:finalhour
· from betterruins
Story of someones last notes.
Found in structures (3)
bookshelf: a lore bookshelf for this section; placed: this exact book sits in a container or on the ground; random loot: a loot roll in the structure can produce it. Read from the structure's schematics, so it shows where the game can put it, not a drop chance.
| Structure | Kind | How it is found |
|---|---|---|
| largeruins-0201-ifoz-o11 | structure | random loot |
| largeruins-0202-ifoz-o11 | structure | random loot |
| largeruins-0203-ifoz-o11 | structure | random loot |
Text
I am afraid that I do not have much time left. Two of our three doctors have already succumbed to the black sick. One poor fellow tried to cling to life, but my hand was forced. I could not allow myself to become infected, too.
I've been trying to discern the source of the infection, but as I have been working, my own hands have begun to shake. I fear that I am going to become like them. The corpses that we have been examining, the beasts outside our doors.
Yesterday, we received a ragtag batch of refugees, fleeing from some faraway town. I could not afford to let them discover this basement, lest they too become afflicted. I have sealed the way shut with the altar. With any hope, they will think this merely a simple church.
I am watching it take me now. My right hand begins to blacken as I write this, and not from the ink. I can only pray that those above never move aside the altar, and that all of this insanity quickly passes and fades.
If anyone is still alive, reading this, know that I, Auden Hamiltone, did all that I could to protect humanity. It is with my deepest hopes that you will be living in a much better world than I.
I've been trying to discern the source of the infection, but as I have been working, my own hands have begun to shake. I fear that I am going to become like them. The corpses that we have been examining, the beasts outside our doors.
Yesterday, we received a ragtag batch of refugees, fleeing from some faraway town. I could not afford to let them discover this basement, lest they too become afflicted. I have sealed the way shut with the altar. With any hope, they will think this merely a simple church.
I am watching it take me now. My right hand begins to blacken as I write this, and not from the ink. I can only pray that those above never move aside the altar, and that all of this insanity quickly passes and fades.
If anyone is still alive, reading this, know that I, Auden Hamiltone, did all that I could to protect humanity. It is with my deepest hopes that you will be living in a much better world than I.