Ahhhh. Okay, Politics! I needed to put it all together here, because stuff is going to start happening - and I wanna make sure you guys know why. Poor Guide. He's so confused. Poor bby.
Armour:
Victide (Ranger)
Weapon: Mandible Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Amidas Spark, Sailfish Boots, Luxor's Gift, Ocean Crest, Amidas Pendant, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Aero Stone, Shield of the Ocean
Health: (350/400)
Tension.
It was strung taut in the air. The seemingly peaceful compound was growing more tense and hostile by the day. Nervous looks were passed back and forth. Awkward, testing conversations. The air itself was antagonistic. Strife was looming over this place.
But why?
The atmosphere fit for a war zone… but there was no war here. There was no obvious reason for conflict. No matter how hard he pondered, The Guide couldn't figure it out. Why would anyone want to harm him? He hadn't done anything that warranted retaliation … at least not yet.
Strange… is somebody out to get me? Ugh… it's giving me the heebie-jeebies.
The Guide hadn't laid a single brick in this compound, but it was his crafting knowledge that allowed The Terrarian to build this place. He was just as much of an owner as The Terrarian was, and both of them acknowledged this. Besides, although The Terrarian took care of the upkeep (he was something of a neurotic janitor. He had demolished House #4 and rebuilt it ten inches to the left several days ago) he absolutely did not want to handle the townspeople. Perhaps he was too shy. Maybe he just hated people. Regardless, he couldn't even be bothered to introduce himself to the new freeloaders, and unceremoniously dumped the mess of 'Camp Politics' on The Guide.
Thanks buddy. Appreciate that.
So while The Terrarian was throwing a baby fit in the underworld, The Guide was here - trying to figure out just what had happened while he was gone.
Why do people keep showing up? Is somebody inviting them?
He sighed and furrowed his brow, propping his elbow against the patio table and swirling his tea as he swirled his thoughts. Several days ago, when he and The Terrarian had set off to The Sunken Sea, the only people left in The Compound had been The Nurse and The Merchant.
The Guide was more or less comfortable with The Nurse. She was enamored with The Terrarian's physiology and she didn't seem ill disposed towards either of them. She was also Yharim's fugitive and had agreed to work to avoid eviction. She posed no danger to them, and seemed content to peacefully chase The Terrarian around with a fistful of scalpels and a hungry look in her eye.
The Merchant, however, was a different story. The Guide knew his repertoire with the old man wasn't good. They had started off on a bad foot. Still, he didn't bother trying to repair that relationship. He hadn't the time nor the energy, and was far too busy with more urgent matters. The Merchant is merely a helpless old man, he'd rationalized. What threat could he possibly pose?
But much to his displeasure, over the past several days The Merchant had made a couple of very capable friends. Exactly two: The Arms Dealer - that exceptionally dangerous looking fellow who had introduced himself earlier this evening (and was currently lurking about the red-bricked patio in an extremely suspicious manner), and a stout red-bearded dwarf of rough demeanor. The Guide had only seen him in passing, but it was clear from his scars that he was no stranger to combat. The three of them had been sneaking and snooping about, hurriedly moving things back and forth, and casting shifty looks at him wherever he chanced near. This behavior was all very dubious and it put The Guide on edge.
They're planning something… I know it...
There was a plot afoot and it… wasn't just his imagination. The Guide knew how to read people. He'd done it since young, and had only gotten better at it as he aged. Not only was this motley trio dangerous, but they were well armed and firmly set against him as if he were some sort of grave enemy. Enemy? Him? For what? Neither he nor The Terrarian had met either of these newcomers until today. Why did they look at him with such sharp eyes?
I already have too much to deal with.
The Guide placed his cup down with the clack and leaned down to rest his chin on the smooth polished wood. He exhaled hard and stared deeply into the ceramic, watching the blurry lights shift about on its glossy surface. It was late evening and he was sitting alone under the pavilion, gazing at the lightning bugs and warming himself near the fire. He had already tried to sleep, but the stress was keeping him wide awake. He hated not knowing what was going on. He was a bit nosy, yes, but better to be nosy than caught unawares. The stakes were getting higher. He could feel it in his bones.
I need to be careful…
How many conflicts was he now involved in? How many different groups had he pitted himself against? He'd made an enemy of almost everyone he'd met since that fateful day his village was destroyed: The Vulture-Headed mage, The Travelling Merchant (whom he'd asked The Slayer to kill), The monstrous components of a lunar deity… now The Merchant's faction? Was he… no, was The Terrarian strong enough to handle all of this at the same time?
Ridiculous.
If The Merchant was so pissed at him, why didn't he just leave and take his gun-toting buddies with him!? The front gate had no lock. One could come and go as they wished. In fact, The Guide would be happier if they simply packed up and left. Perhaps he could even ask The Terrarian to give them several gold bars as incentive (the almost-man had thrown three full sets of platinum armour into the wastebin several days ago. Gold was like dirt to him). The Guide didn't need any further conflicts. He had already made an abundance of promises to The Sea King, and really didn't want to juggle anything else.
I need to confront them. Try to convince them to go... but I'd better wait for The Slayer to return and play bodyguard. I don't want to get tied up and interrogated…
The Guide blinked and cast a sidelong glance towards the red-bricked patio. The Arms Dealer was pacing about, pretending to be occupied but very clearly doing surveillance. He had mentioned wanting to meet The Terrarian as his excuse for staying up late, but clearly his intentions were more nefarious. Was he going to try to attack The Terrarian? The Guide almost wanted him to try. If The Slayer had managed the Desert Scourge and Crabulon in short succession, The Guide was fully confident he'd be able to take down a single gunman.
Then, maybe these people will get spooked and run off… where are you, Slayer? Can you come back already? What do you even want!? A hug and a kiss? Ugh… such a child…
Unfortunately, The Slayer wasn't available. He was pissed off and had gone underground to decimate whatever wildlife populations he chanced upon. Why was he mad? The Guide wasn't entirely sure. He had raised some complaint about The Guide's behavior around The Sea King… but clearly had no idea what people normally did to get favours out of royalty. Did he think The Guide really enjoyed kissing up to Amidas? Honestly, he's probably just jealous and wants attention…
Whatever it was, The Guide needed to handle as soon as he could. Still, although The Terrrarian's words were scathing, The Guide didn't take them too harshly. What was he going to do? Drop everything and leave? Abandon everyone and start somewhere else just because he got annoyed? No. The Terrarian wasn't nearly dumb enough to do that. He'd be back sooner or later; and hopefully when he returned, he'd be more open to conversation.
Hm… I… wish I'd read some parenting books. Maybe The Sea King is right. Do I just need to be more stern with him? Yell at him a bit?
Earlier, The Sea King had given him some tips about how Kings dealt with their rebellious military officers. His advice was to swiftly and brutally punish anyone who stood out of line. This advice, although coming from the most reputable source imaginable, simply didn't sit right with The Guide. Of course, he'd never raised an army - and he'd never raised children either - but something felt amiss. Should he really be going to such extremes to assert authority?
The Sea King… he knows The Slayer hates him. It's in his best interest that I maintain a good relationship. Right? ugh… I still need to get him to build that stupid castle… maybe it's worth a shot.
The Guide sighed and pursed his lips, annoyed with his situation. He raised his eyes to the dark sky and stared deeply into the endless expanse. Owls hooted in the distance. The noise of crickets gently floated over the compound. Against the far wall, five neat houses stood in a row, their lights shining peacefully in the still night. A cool evening breeze blew; he took a deep breath.
"Hurk!"
Then grimaced, startled as the tang of foul rot assaulted his nostrils.
Shoot… the smell is getting stronger. How much longer do I have?!
The Crimson was drawing closer. Every day, it crawled nearer and nearer, slowly consuming the good land. The Guide knew it would soon reach the boundaries of The Compound, bringing with it not only the vile smell, but vicious monstrosities as well. There was a means to stop it… a theory, at least. If The Terrarian could kill this 'Eldritch Eyeball Monster' then a Dryad might seek them out who, according to The Sea King, would know how to stop The Crimson's spread.
But there's no guarantee… what if The Dryad doesn't come? What if she comes, but can't do anything?
He shook his head. There was no use worrying about this. These were things out of his control. He could only do the best with what he was given, and pray that everything else sorted itself out.
He was the captain at the helm of this ship. The Slayer was the engine driving everything forward. What was a captain without his ship? Merely a man who longed to reach his destination. What was a ship without its captain? A derelict wreck, ripe for looting and hijacking. He needed The Slayer as much as The Slayer needed him… so please hurry it up and come home!
This place… it was truly an anomaly.
No matter how The Arms Dealer looked at it, this compound was most certainly built by magic. How did one manage to mount an anvil on a thin wooden shelf? The platform was only about an inch thick, yet was supporting the collective weight of an anvil, a workbench, a table and chair and some tremendous machine which pumped and clattered even with no visible power source. It was obvious that the shelf was built to be climbed upon, but was it really alright? Wasn't this a disaster waiting to happen?
It's floating too… too weird.
It was already late, perhaps three in the morning. The Guide - who had been seated under the pavilion with a cup of tea - had since retired for the evening. To be completely honest, the longer The Arms Dealer observed the supposed 'wicked sorcerer' the more confused got. According to The Old Merchant's, The Guide was their prison warden - but he certainly didn't behave like one. He didn't seem malicious either. In fact, he was rather disturbed at his and the Demolitionist presences' - as if recognizing them as a danger and wondering why they had come to his home.
… I don't think The Merchant is telling us the whole truth…
Yet, as much as The Guide's behavior didn't match that of 'Evil Wizard' there was hard evidence to back The Merchant's claim. This compound was clearly made from magic. The physics defying nature of… almost everything made this fact undeniable. There was an invisible border that prevented anyone from escaping - The Arms Dealer had tested it himself. The moment he wandered too far, he was inexplicably teleported back within the confines of the prison. Only The Guide and The Monster Knight could come and go freely.
And to make things worse, they were short on time. The Crimson was coming. He could smell it in the wind. The Old Merchant had suggested the reason The Guide had trapped them here was to study how men and women were transformed into those Crimson monstrosities.
No way that guy is capable of such evil…
But even if The Arms Dealer had some reservations about their plans, what could he do? The Guide seemed to be a reasonable and kindhearted person, but it was foolish to ignore the facts in favour of a gut feeling. This was self defense. The Guide and his Knight were enemies… he mustn't forget that.
*tzzzzt*
"Wha-?!"
He was caught completely off guard. He'd been waiting so long for The Slayer to return, yet when it actually happened - he was completely unprepared. There was a sudden burst of light. A change in the atmosphere. As he jumped back, he felt adrenaline flushing through him. The air crackled against his skin as if it'd been electrified. He took a battle stance, instinctively drawing his firearm and pointing into the blinding glare.
*thunk*
"... you."
The Arms Dealer flinched as a voice seemed to speak directly into his ear. It wasn't loud, but seemed to overlay the surrounding noises in an otherworldly manner. A man's voice, but monotonous and flat - as if it were an alien attempting to mimic humanity.
The Slayer!
The glare vanished as soon as it'd appeared. In its place stood an impeccable suit of strange red-and-blue armour. The person within wasn't particularly tall (nearly a full head shorter than him), nor particularly imposing, but somehow The Arms Dealer knew this creature was feral and dangerous. He quickly holstered his pistol and showed his palms before he invited retaliation.
"Sorry… you startled me."
He fought to keep his voice from shaking as he stared down at The Monster Knight, who had thankfully put its blade away. Strangely, it didn't even crane his neck to meet his eyes - as if unused to interacting with somebody as tall as he was. It just stared pointedly at The Arms Dealer's collarbone before turning away. It was only when the knight began to walk did The Arms Dealer realize it was dragging the corpse of a tremendous spider by the jaws. For a moment, he was curious as to what The Slayer was doing with it - but the moment the Monster Knight began stuffing the spider into the cooking pot, The Arms Dealer decided he didn't want to watch anymore.
Oh god.
Feeling a bit ill, The Arms Dealer quickly noted where The Monster Knight had appeared, and made a beeline for his house.
Nurse: He what?
Arms Dealer: He's eating spiders. This thing was the size of a bowling ball, and was leaking all sorts of caustic venom. He's broke all it's legs and stuffed it into the cooking pot.
Guide: *puts down his bowl of soup* Wait, what happened to the Cooking pot?
Lmao.
I wonder why Slayer's cooking spiders now? oof. lol.
Anyways. I know I promise every chapter to push stuff along faster, but it never really happens... so I'm going to stop promising. I'm deffo not trying to drag this though. It's just that I'd rather have an extra chapter, than have any of you getting confused.
GIVE ME SKITS
much love!