Terra Nova – Rogue World Asylum
I greet thee, reader! It has been quite some time since chapter two, and it will probably be quite some time before chapter three is going to hit the shelves, but I shall work on it... whenever my internet is dead. Remember? The internet is a scary place. And for some weird magical reason I only work when my internet is down. I also acquired followers! Whoop! Anyways. On with the story! [Post-Edit]: Read the AN at the 'end' of this chapter.
Emanuel's Journal:
07.12.1357: Today I shall venture forth and conquer the evil plagues that torment this very soil. Only a brave man could face the demons roaming the lands. Any lesser person would be left a stuttering mess with a broken mind before being devoured by any hostile creature.
On a positive note, I crafted very sturdy armor made from gold. Gold in Terraria is not as bristle as in other regions of the world... Perhaps it is due to the magical properties of this land? The deep shaft, as I like to call it got pretty heated towards the lower ends. Like stated in previous entries it was quite the challenge to gather that much rope. But there are still remnants of the old civilization here. They probably were eaten too. Thinking about eating made me all hungry. Perhaps I should go hunt, or something. Yes, hunting sounds good.
Carl looked over the forest as he exited the cave he explored. The entrance was slightly elevated, and the path to it was a pretty flat slope that you would not notice unless examining it closely, providing the necessary height to look over some of the treetops. His clothes were still a little wet from the previous night and there were some muddied spots scattered along his clothes, especially at his ankles and boots. There were some holes and rips in his shirt, but his skin was not marred with any wounds. Although he was quite exhausted and overwhelmed from the experiences he witnessed in the previous night his hands still held on to his sword and a new torch firmly. He had not found Wyatt in the depths of the cavity, but some materials he could use to forge a path out of the cavern, mainly some torches left behind by the people who inhabited this region before he stumbled upon it. He expected Wyatt to be dead by now. The storm last night had uprooted only a few trees to Carl's surprise, but there were some zombies squashed beneath those few trees. And it was a truly gross sight to behold. The gargantuan tree, his home, still stood proudly amidst the rest of the woodwork, unwavering. It looked like the howling wind did not even faze the mother tree in the slightest. Sighing, Carl began his march back to his abode. It would be a moderately long trek before he could rest in his bed. After opening the third chest and almost getting chewed on he quickly dismissed the idea of sleeping in the dark. Actually - Sleeping down there was a completely retarded idea anyways.
"Who knew that there was some sort of huge-ass worms out there, having multiple rows of teeth out for some human flesh? I certainly did not, well my reflexes did. Still gives me the creeps thinking about it. Gotta see if there's anything written about those worms in Emanuel's encyclopedia about the grotesque and Terrarian."- damn those worms, indeed! How dare they to be so slippery and hard to anticipate?
While mumbling these words Carl had already entered the forest. The same forest he had fought for his life in merely a few hours ago. The battles had taken their toll on him. His body ached and there really was nothing more he wished for than his bed. When there was nothing out to rip out your entrails, feast upon you, smash your innards to mush or just swallow you in one go Terraria, or at least this forest looked like a decent place. Lush, green trees with the sun lightening up the place. Wild grass, which wasn't too high beneath his feet, wet from the rain. If there was no danger lurking around, Carl would call this place a perfect spot for a carefree and relaxing life. On the other hand... He had all sorts of monsters to battle. That's basically what he set out to do, right? Become a mercenary for hire and beat up some monsters or bad people. In this case it was the undead, green liquids that packed a punch and giant worms. Not the thing Carl had intended when he asked for opponents, but beggars can't be choosers, now can they?
The way back was quite quiet so far. No suspicious movements. No rustling in the bushes. No slimes. No excitement. A moment of clarity for Carl to think about whatever he wanted. While he may not have been the most intelligent person or one to study book after book, our hero had some knowledge of the history of this world, although some of it may seem ripped straight from a fantasy novel. Actually those far-fetched stories didn't seem too unrealistic when thinking about Terraria, but whatever. Back at home, while living with his parents he spent the time not learning how to fight or doing menial chores for his parents, with reading up on the world he lived in. Oh boy, this world was fucked up. No, like really bad. This is not just the choice of words the author would use, but rather what described the world the most. Well to make things short... There used to be this big continent, its name forgotten in the annals of history. Anyways. Back then there were some super duper overpowered old men with gray beards and stuff. If remembering correctly, Carl reminisced thinking about them at one point already. Actually, they were three dudes and one woman doing their business of ruling over the peasantry when some people in the nowadays called continent Astora found some magical fire which could be used to harness the power of magic. Well, Terrarians did just that apparently. Legends of Astora only tell of the king and his knights throwing lightning at enemies, which smote everything in his path. Thinking he was some kind of prophet to the world, a savior to mankind, that he decided to trespass onto Terraria, which is actually a legend where he is from, rumored to be paradise, starting a war with whoever ruled Terraria at that point. Needless to say this king and his subjects got their asses handed to them on a silver platter. Political power was basically drunk at this point and unable to be saved, with the rest of the world being inferior to Terraria, how exactly no one knows nowadays, but Carl, having seen the black majicks firsthand now knows how Terrarian people must have kicked some serious arse back then. Long story short: with the help of their black majicks Terraria suddenly disappeared, everyone forgot it existed or claimed it to be a legend - there was only ocean where it was supposed to be. At least that's what Carl could finally piece together from all the books he had gathered and now experienced. The only thing that bugged him now was: why?
If Terrarians knew their business, how exactly are undead roaming the wilds. Why is there no one on this forsaken continent - at least in his valley filled with forest? It did not make sense at all. Whoever makes whole continents vanish does not simply die to monsters Carl himself is able to fight and overcome with his meager skills.
Whilst pondering about possible reasons for a whole continent suddenly going poof and being populated by man-hating monsters he found himself getting closer and closer to the biggest tree he had ever seen. The sunrise illuminated the place and it made him feel a sense of tranquility. The rays of light pierced through the treetops, making the place look ethereal and unreal. The droplets on the leaves and grass glistered in the light of the sun, providing a beautiful sight to behold. Carl's torch had long since burned out, but he didn't dare toss it aside, while the sword still rested in his firm grip. He would not dare losing his only weapon at any cost. It was his protector from any danger this continent might throw at him. And it was his quest to not die at this point. He still had to apologize to Wyatt for losing his temper and sending him out into the wilds. It was one of his goals to reach while being stuck in this place to make amends. Another one was to become king of this place, mark it as his own to rule over the lesser beings roaming this place as well as humans who would join him to rebuild, or create a society here, if they ever came across his lands.
On the other hand there was nothing more Carl wished than to go back to his homeland, start anew and make sure he reached his original destination.
It was at that moment Carl reached the treeline in the shadow of his home... which reminded him of his current situation. He had nowhere to go to and no means of getting of this continent. He didn't even know where the ocean was! He had no idea how to craft a boat or anything similar. Carl was stuck with his only safe haven being a giant tree in the middle of a valley full of trees. There was no decision for him to make in the first place. He was stuck in a place where you had to eat, in order to not be eaten. He stopped in his tracks short of the middle of the grassy fields of his home to stare ahead at the door. Carl had to plan his next moves. What could he do to help him survive Terraria? He had a home, not a great one, but it would do until he needed to expand it. He had a shoddy sword that looked dull and had taken quite the beaten. He had to perfect his swordsmanship and hone his body in order to survive this ordeal. He had to be a hardened warrior first before anything else. How would he save anything or anybody when his body was in a weak state, unable to fend of something stronger than a bunch of zombies? Next he had to learn a multitude of skills. Carpentry, forging, crafting and foraging amongst others. There was only so much he could learn with the help of Emanuel's books. He would learn whatever he could and the rest would be trial and error. Sighing, Carl continued trotting towards the door of his abode. He fastened the dead torch right next to the door before grasping the handle and opening the sturdy piece of wood to open up to the inside.
"There you are. I was beginning to think the zombies might have gotten you. It would be a most tragic event, but it seems you made it back just fine."
There! Sitting at the table sipping tea or whatever, considering he had a wooden mug with some sort of steaming fluid inside, was sitting the cause, kinda, for his nightly escapade. Carl did a double take in order to confirm what his eyes were seeing. Wyatt didn't spare him one glance, closing his eyes before taking another sip from his tea before lowering it and sighing.
How? Why? Where? How? What? Ho- was all Carl managed to sputter at this moment. His brain was currently overloaded with this information. Wyatt. Was. Alive!? That one person who left the currently safest place in Terraria through the main door and disappeared into the middle of a raging storm at night?
With his mind being in the gutter, he didn't notice Wyatt addressing him. "-I just headed back inside."
He was still struck dumb, openly gaping in Wyatt's general direction, trying to comprehend the events.
Emanuel's Journal:
0: I don't remember a lot. I was on a mountain. But I keep forgetting important stuff. I can't remember. I- what is my name? I...[ineligible handwriting] I used to be genius. Now can hardly write. By God what is [ineligible]? Must know stuff. Must write. Must. [Looks like a 6 year old decided to draw a lot of items, each worse than the last] FLOWERS! FLOWERS IS KEY! MOUNTAIN FLOWER FIELD IS YELLOW IS KEY! IS STOP PAIN! ST[Large stains on the paper, with the bottom third being ripped off]
"Jeez, man. Whatever happened to that guy, I wonder?" sighed Carl as he closed the book labeled "Emanuel's Journal" once again. "He seems to have gone mad throughout his life. Maybe some sort of sickness? Meh, sucks to be me. No freebie info from the mad hatter, I guess."
"Maybe he went to the lake in the middle of the night, dropped his soap and a bunch of zombies took the opportunity" came the smart-ass reply from Wyatt. "Maybe you should try the same, my liege"
"Fuck you too, Wyatt. Why don't you help me out instead of sitting around all day, sipping your hot water? Tell me what to do. Go out, bash some Z's in the head, build a god damn castle by myself or what?"
"Sounds perfectly reasonable to me, Carl." A sweat-drop can be heard forming. "But I have a much better idea. It will help you, my master and me a lot." and in a moments notice, everything had become quiet. Carl's body had froze. His gaze hardened and Wyatt stopped sipping his hot water in order to direct his steely eyes towards his liege. "I suggest exploring to find that hole that leads to hell, the human spoke about in his books. If my guess is correct, it will lead straight to the underworld. Once you find it, gather supplies, upgrade your weapon and prepare the descent. Once you reach the underworld, mine the resources you find and bring everything back to the surface. Once you did that, forge the strongest equipment known to Terraria, as used by the Seekers of Wisdom. We will then proceed down to the deepest layer of the underworld in order to open Pandora's Box so you may acquire the Flame of Life."
Gulping, Carl weakly replied "And what happens then? After I got the Flame of Life? Will that make me a king?"
The guide let his gaze drift away from Carl and onto the wall in front of him.
"I thought you had read about the history of this accursed place. The Flame of Life will give you the power to cast powerful spells. Powerful enough to be considered the strongest human in this world, I suppose. You will smite any zombie with a wave of your hand. Crush slimes by merely looking at them. Once you have that power you are able to do as you wish, and act as you please."
Trying to grasp the concept of such powerful magic was beyond Carl's imagination, as he had never seen a lot of magic, besides his tools, to begin with. "So what's in it for you, Wyatt? Why are you not doing it yourself? Not interested in becoming a mighty wizard or something? Oh, by the way... will I grow a fancy beard?"
Wyatt simply took another sip from his hot water. "It is not in my interests, as I can not defend myself. I don't know how to use a sword properly. I merely wish to see my master ruling over this land, maybe this planet, one day. I simply want to be by his side, when he finally reaches his days of glory."
"A'ight, suit yourself. I'm going outside to see if I can find some food, you know? There seems to be a bunch of rabbits populating this forest." satisfied, Carl left the building and closed the door behind him. Who knew Wyatt had that much knowledge? Seekers of Wisdom? Underworld? Pandora's Box? Carl hardly knew anything about these terms, some completely foreign. "Oh an by the way, try to find some allies" opening and closing the door for that sentence was Wyatt who spooked the living daylights out of Carl, who had just taken the first step down the stairs and into the wild. "Okay, sheesh, gimme a break..."
'Time to hunt some rabbits, maybe find some allies... as if there'd be anyone here to help me out, besides zombies and slimes. And to be honest, I don't think those have the intelligence to be even considered sapient.'
Time-skip: About a week later...
It had taken a lot out of Carl, but he had managed to finish some projects. First of, he had built two buildings all by himself with some pointers from Wyatt, one made from wood, whilst the other was made from stone. He spent the time in the forest not only hunting rabbits, but also mining and woodcutting. This led to an abundance of wood and stone, he put to use by building some necessities. A wooden home for Wyatt with a table and a chair. "This is all I need. Thank you, my liege."
And a workshop made completely out of stone, where he decided to stack his tools for crafting. Right now it sported a work bench, a furnace and an iron anvil used to repair his current set of tools and to craft new ones in the future, like his newly acquired iron broadsword. While smithing the offensive tool, he went ahead and pieced together an armor set made from rabbit hide and wood. It looked really weird, once he put it on, but it was lightweight and the sheets of wood somewhat protected him from damage, while the fur and hide kept him warm in the coldest of nights. Carl truly had been hard at work for the past week and finally decided to rest a bit, under the guise of woodcutting. Lying with his back rested against a tree in the midst of the forest, he was thinking about how far he had come, ever since he woke up in this land.
He had a strange, yet helpful companion, his tools were up to par and ready to be used efficiently. He still had no better understanding on swordsmanship, despite some more battles he had fought. While his armor protected him from the most blunt attacks like the zombies and slimes, he still only flailed about with his sword. His strikes got more precise, knowing when and how to strike both types of enemy for the best results. Carl had acquired a sense for battle. Yet despite all his progress, it still felt lackluster. He had yet to explore the hellevator as he dubbed it in his punposterous antics in order to acquire better materials. Emanuel's journal, despite his descent into madness had proven to be useful in discerning which ore and material was valuable to mine and which ones you should pass up on. Copper is the most basic of materials for forging tools and the most widespread. According to the texts, he would be able to find veins strewn throughout the surface, which of some he actually found and mined from with his beat up pickaxe. It was a highly demanding job and left Carl with severe aches in his arms the next day, but it proved to be invaluable as his reforged tools were making the tasks of his much simpler. Iron is the next tier of ore he could mine in Terraria. Another basic material that is used for forging a wider arrange of tools, like the anvil he had forged to repair his tools. It too could be found on the surface, yet far more sparse than copper. The next one on the list was silver, which to Carl's annoyance could only be found underground. It took more ore to craft a single bar of silver compared to copper or iron, but the material was much more durable than iron and more efficient against the undead that roamed the lands. Back at his place in Mosrak adventurers with silver swords were highly regarded, not for their abilities in combat, but for their fancy equipment as they would slay mythological beasts with it, which they honestly never did. They were just show-offs. He could put their tools to better use here, but alas, he had to find the materials first. The highest tier of material Emanuel had talked about was gold. Gold proved invaluable for tools. It was not only fancy to look at, but it had basic magical capabilities, as this place was riddled with mana, the source for all magical activities. It had been speculated by Emanuel that whoever was born and raised here would have access to magics, if only minor ones. Due to it's infusion with mana gold had become the most durable of the common ores compared to other parts of the world, were it was quite brittle. Of course it could only be found underground, even deeper than silver, and it would require better equipment on Carl's part in order to descend this far. The tools he would be able to craft from it would make up the danger and exhaustion he would feel from doing so, but he called it worth, so it would be worth it.
He still had to examine the rocks he found in the abandoned mine, he had completely forgotten about them until recently, yet had not come around to give them to Wyatt for an inspection. Perhaps they could be forged into something of extreme strength – like a huge stone sword. But who the hell crafts swords out of stone? Maybe in some fantasy block-land, that is...
Carl had already mapped out parts of the valley in his head. He had yet to explore about 40% of the area, especially near the mountains and the ocean, but he knew the landscape around his base. It was, surprise surprise, mostly forest, with some openings for caves, patches of stone, where the earth had eroded to show a layer of stone and sometimes basic ores and some areas where there was only grass. Once he had acquired a good set of tools Carl made a point to climb the mountain ridge to the south, to see if there was anything behind it, since Emanuel obviously did not make a point at that time to write down the things he point. Damn social isolation! It made exploration such a mess sometimes. It had been 200 years ever since Emanuel roamed these lands, with the current date being some day of march or April in the year of 1584. Carl really did not wish the consequences of solitude upon anybody, especially himself. If he was to be a king, he could not be some demented fart, ruling over equally brain-dead subjects clamoring for brains at rare occasions. Not quite befitting, nor a glorious prospect for the future.
Halting his self-evaluation due to the rustling of leaves, Carl prepared himself for battle. The backpack resting against the roots of the tree was picked up in an instant and the sword on his tool-belt was withdrawn with great haste. Out of the woodwork slithered another green slime, not different from the ones he had seen up to this point. Carl raised his new iron broadsword in preparation from battle, holding it in front of him, tip angled diagonally from the ground, the blade poised to strike at the enemy with ruthless efficiency. The slimes always gave away their moment of attack by wobbling in order to generate the necessary energy to propel themselves forward. Once they had beaten their prey to the point of broken bones they would slowly assimilate them into their body by dissolving them inside of themselves. It was a cruel fate Carl had subjected those bunnies to, but it was a necessary evil. Turning around his own body while taking a step to the side, he let the slime fly past him and into the tree, where it bounced off and onto the ground harmlessly. Not wasting any time to let his enemy recover Carl struck a multitude of times, bringing down his sword over and over onto the corporeal form of torch-fuel, not leaving any room for retaliation. His sword vibrated everytime it broke the outer layer of the slimes body, cleaving straight through it. If swords did not vibrate when striking down on any surface, slimes could not be harmed, as they could easily regenerate a clean cut. The vibration of the blade added fine disturbances to the two halves of the slime that would take more effort from the slime to regenerate. In a sense slimes used the surface tension of their own fluid to ward of brute attacks to a certain degree. It took a considerably strong force, like a huge hammer or a falling boulder to harm them with any bludgeoning force. Force Carl would not be able to generate with a broadsword, even if he attempted to strike with the flat part of the blade. In a sense the vibrating slashes only served to wear out the slimes until they expanded enough of their energy to basically die, due to exhaustion. It was to be the last battle of another foolish slime in search of easy prey. It did not even have enough time to attempt another jump before Carl cut it down. Liquefying itself, the slime passed on, with Carl grabbing as much of it's remains as possible, storing it in his back in order to dry it on a wooden platform next to the tree. He had a lot of gel to fuel a great number of torches at this point. And he would use them graciously to lighten his way in the dark.
He sighed a moment, before putting away his sword on his tool-belt. He had to go back to the base. It was time to explore the hellevator not too far from his tree. He had found it in a grassy area whilst exploring the surroundings. Despite not being able to see the far end of it, he could only assume it would take him deep into the earth. He had farmed some sturdy cobwebs found throughout caves and crafted a long and thick rope from them. It was around 200 meters (666ft) long and 30 centimeters (1ft) in width. He had already constructed the anchor for it, using the hard wood from a sturdy tree. He dug a 5 meter (16ft) hole into the ground a few meters away from the hellevator and placed the anchor, an extremely sturdy wooden pole with a width of a meter (3,3ft) and a height of around 7 meters (22ft) inside of it. There he would fasten the one end of the rope, with the other one dangling in the deep end. He would descent by climbing down alongside the wall of the hellevator, hoping to find a ledge to stand on at one point. It would take him a lot of power to stick to the rope without any safety. It was do or die, no second try...
Warning: Lengthy paragraph explaining the state of this story.
It has been over 2 years – 2 and a half to be exact – since the last chapter of Terra Nova. To be frank, I don't think this story will ever be finished. There's no motivation left in writing this story, or any fanfiction in general. "But you just released chapter 3!" I hear you saying.
That's because those 4,5k words were written in my time of absense since chapter 2. Things have changed on my end. I still enjoy writing, but the older I get, the less time I find myself writing, and instead trying to live life. I decided to throw this chapter out here since the only reason I returned was the first review I have gotten in all those years this story has been up on this site. Don't take me for a review-grabbing crybaby, if I was one, I would have written something along the lines of a generic Naruto-Story. I only feel obliged to that one poor soul who told me this is epic and giving me props for a job well done only to never see this work fully finished (unless I somehow decide that this is what I want to do again). I think I have even seen some stories in this section draw parallels to Terra Nova. What can I say? It is an OG story compared to some of the things I have read all those years ago. Sadly the story of Carl has come to an early end. Too early, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste in my mouth to see all this unpublished work go to waste. I had written a lot of stuff for this story. A lot of characters, factions, lore, timelines, weapons, skills and how they work, heck, I even drew an interactive map in even though my artistic capabilities are less than adequate. Whilst all of that is going down the drain now, so to speak, I do not regret writing everything up. It was a fun activity.
As always: I will not „abandon" this story. It will be WIP until the end of my life. You won't be able to adopt it either, as I highly doubt you will take this story to where I had invisioned it to go, even if I decided to give you all the lore, background and timelines I wrote. I won't tell anyone what would happen either, as that would likely just leave you hanging to dry, waiting for more. Let's just assume Carl died while falling down the hellevator :)
CasualAuthor, the laziest existence in the entire universe out!
(For the record, less than 200 people have even read this story over the past 3 years. And less than 50 have even read the second chapter. So I highly doubt anyone is going to read this.)
