This chapter isn't the most well written :( I might double back to polish it one of these days. Sorry if its a bit long winded.
08/03: Its changed and pretty much entirely new so just read it again lmao sorry
Armour: Aerospec Armour (Ranger)
Weapon: Galeforce (Ichor Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(11/11): Charm of Myths, Ankh Shield, Terraspark Boots, Luxor's Gift, Deific Amulet, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, MOAB, Harpy Ring, Aero Stone, Skyline Wings
Health: (400/400)
The air stank of blood.
Blood and ash and burning flesh. The Guide's scent. The scent of dirt and books and ink and fire.
The fire has gotten noticeably stronger as of late. Did The Guide always stink like a chimney? The Terrarian wasn't sure. After The Crimson, his memories had been shaken all up and poured out of his head; he sadly retained very little. And although he mourned the loss, he wasn't the type to wallow in misery. He immediately set about making new memories, carefully observing everything and everyone around him with an impolite nosiness that was uncharacteristic of him. So when he observed The Guide, he was quite astonished to find something else buried deep inside of the man.
And whatever this foreign something was, it was burgeoning stronger with each passing day.
And it stinks.
Today, the smell of ash was so strong The Terrarian returned home fully expecting his entire compound to be set aflame. Had somebody decided to immolate themselves? Maybe they were burning a corpse? Instead, when he pushed open the gates, he was met with not an inferno - but (more distressingly) a few unfamiliar faces.
('W-who's that'?)
(That's The Monster Knight, ma'am. He's a powerful soldier, healing incredibly quickly and - I suspect, is able to raise from the dead. Excellent research material for Draedon, yes? You still have contacts there, I assume. After all, even a lowly agent like me recognized Draedon's missing star-apprentice.)
(...s-star apprentice? hah... if Draedon counted me v-valuable, he would have r-rescued me long ago...)
(Nonsense, ma'am! the sooner you fix that, the sooner we can get home! And we'll even have a gift for Draedon to garner favour. I heard he was creating A Terrarian! Surely this specimen will be of use.)
Muffled voices carried on the slow breeze, mixing with the gentle sounds of the evening chorus. Crickets, cicadas and frogs were beginning to sing their nighttime songs. Fireflies flitted about as dusk began to settle over them, glowing and pulsing in a mesmerizing manner. To his right was his patio and the wooden gondola. He made a beeline for the many crafting stations he had installed there too offload the bounty he had fished from The Crimson depths just this afternoon. It was only then that he saw The Party Girl and an unknown orange-haired woman staring at him. There was a mass of wires between them connecting to the skeleton of The Party Girl's Communications equipment.
(A-a Terrarian? M-merely creatures of legend, Agent. It's debatable i-if they even exist. W-why does Draedon w-want to make one?)
(The Resistance scum had created one, and are currently engaged in war with The Empire.)
(T-they made one?! Impossible?)
The Terrarian blinked as he eavesdropped on their conversation. What were they talking about? Who was 'Draedon'. Terrarians were creatures of legend? What did they mean by 'specimen'. It was all quite mindbending, but he focused all the more keenly. Normally, he would have ignored them (the speech of his seniors had a penchant to give him a headache) but he was adamant in his quest to gather as much information as possible to make up for his lost memory. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he covered the patio in Crimson Crates as high as his waist and began to crack them open.
(W-what?! What is that! H-how did he do that!)
(I told you he was interesting, didn't I? He can duplicate just about anything. Food, resources, armour, precious metals. He probably only fished up three of those crates - and now there are three hundred. Useful, wouldn't you say? Especially towards a war effort?)
(...you've f-found something astonishing i-indeed, Agent.)
"..."
They... were talking about him. He could feel their gazes prickling the nape of his furred muff as they muttered to each other. What 'War Effort' were they referring to? Was there a war going on? Could they were referring to The Guide's campaign against The Crimson? No - the orange haired woman wouldn't know anything about that. Who were 'The Resistance'. Wasn't The Demolitionist and The Arms Dealer part of that group? Had they made A Terrarian too? He was A Terrarian and The Guide had made him. So that meant there was another 'him' out there, right? A Twin, or a sibling... or at least a companion that shared his constitution. He wondered as he crunched his way through the flesh-covered crates- scattering potions and loot all about him. Would he ever meet this sibling of his? What was he like?
*crack*
Would he be strong? Perhaps just as strong as he was. Maybe stronger. Did he also like to kill monsters? Perhaps they could kill monsters together. He and The Guide 'killed' monsters, but if he had a brother, it'd be different. Both of them would partake in the joy of battle, leaping about and cutting down all that stood before them. He wouldn't be lonely in this anymore - no longer in fear that his existence was utterly unique and therefore utterly misunderstood. He was comfortable around The Guide, yes - but he was also expressly aware of the differences between them. There was nobody in This Compound that had not feared him at one time or another. Indeed, the stench of fear filled The Compound. It clung to him. It followed him. It set him apart.
But...if he could meet The Terrarian in The Resistance...
Well, perhaps he'd be happier.
He really did think so.
*crumble*
As the fifth crate dissolved between his fingers, a gun clattered to the ground beside a smattering of gold coins and a handful of iron bars, adding to the already impressive pile of loot heaped up. He stooped to pick it up and turned it about in his hands, watching the lamplight reflect off of its metallic surfaces. His attention was rapidly slipping from the women's conversation and into his own introspection. They continued to mutter at him, but his interest was spent. The items in The Crate were far more engaging than whatever political mumbo-jumbo they were on about. Wars... they didn't concern him. Maybe The Guide would find it interesting (the man seemed to find just about everything interesting) but certainly not he. He knelt on the floor and began destroying the articles of everything not already thoroughly researched. The voices of the women were drowned out by the crunching of items between his palms.
(S-so... how do you propose we transport him to c-central?)
(Transporting him... is not easy. He isn't somebody that can be simply bound and carried off - not even by me.)
(Ah. Do you suppose we call in a s-strike team? Perhaps we drug him?)
(We can try. The Guide had mentioned just a whiff of Glowing mushroom is enough to lay him flat.)
For as much as this idea of a 'brother' excited him, there were far more important things to tend to. He must prepare to battle 'The Wall'. The Guide had given him a great deal of instructions last night before sending him off to wander the lands. He'd been tasked to go into The Crimson Caverns and collect the burning ichor from within floating squidlike entities. The fluid was lurid and burned terribly as he tipped all his arrows in it. He was likewise instructed to fish up crates until he was flush in potions and oddities. He was sent deep underground to search for a Hellwing Bow (Thankfully, The Guide somehow knew the exact location of where to find one) By the time he finished all of these tasks and crawled up to the surface, it was already late afternoon. Actually, The Terrarian was a bit surprised The Guide hadn't come out to greet him, considering how eager he was to go battle 'The Wall'. Was that odd? Perhaps his lethergy was related to the increased presence of the stench of ash.
In any case, he had best find The Guide...
With the flick of his hand all the the debris he'd scattered on the ground disappeared, leaving the patio as spotless as he'd found it. He swept to his feet and clacked away, following his nose to The Guide's residence. Behind him, The women's chittering grew excited. In retrospect, it would have saved him a great deal of suffering had he paid attention.
(Ah! Ma'am, you got the radio working?!)
(N-naturally Agent. T-this is simple stuff you know... I assume you w-want to contact CC Central c-command?)
(No, No... why don't you call your contacts at the lab first. I can give you The Zoologist contact-... let's get Draedon on the line and work out a deal.)
"Yes, I too find him extremely suspect. What a coincidence it is that The Archmage - who has been bound for a hundred years, only is released upon the beginning of this war!? Granted, The Archmage has insisted he was freed by The Hero - but has any one of you seen The Hero since?! For all we know, our Terrarian is sitting in Yharim's cells whilst The Archmage plays saboteur!"
(low murmuring)
Really... The Hero was a blessing. How good it was that he had hidden his presence! What a wonderful turn of events! Even after having his Doppelganger sealed, The Hero had continued to go by his self proclaimed moniker - 'Faze' (pompous, hah!) - for fear Braelor would discover him. It was that very fear of Braelor that would now allow The Cultist to slay his longtime enemy. Because truly, none of the brass knew of The Hero's whereabouts except for himself. None have seen him, and The Hero was far too terrified of getting killed again to allow himself to be seen.
"Hmm... To image The Archmage falling. A shock indeed." It was The Sea King who spoke now, his long reptilian claws tapping thoughtfully against the tough scales on his snout. "I would think the old man was made of tougher stuff than that. Despite his strictness by which he insists to fight his battles, it is that strictness which does not allow him to succumb."
The Cultist interrupted again, doing his best not to sound as eager as he was.
"Perhaps, but that was The Archmage of The Past. He was trapped for a hundred years, yes? A hundred. I have worked under The King for years and years. I watched him shatter Calamitas's mind and take control of The Witch of Massacre such that she is now his loyal dog... It only took a year for him to bring her beneath his banner, friends... Do you imagine a hundred years couldn't break The Archmage?"
(murmuring)
The Four of them were seated in The War room, encased on all sides by stone and anti-scrying spells. With Braelor's return, their council was once more complete - and they could vote concerning whether or not to kill The Archmage for treason. Of course, The Cultist had quite a grudge against the frosty old man. Years and years of grudges, in fact. He wasn't above fibbing a bit to watch The Archmage's head roll.
"Look at it from a neutral standpoint. The Archmage arrives, causes Braelor to go to The Front lines. Parks his enormous castle right on our doorstep... and in short order, we begin getting reports that CC agents are infiltrating our expedition crews? Next, he calls Braelor back and asks that all the troops be sent away from the Headquarters with a threat that The King himself will strike us down? Perhaps you are all blinded by his heroics in the past, but I see from a completely objective standpoint. The Archmage's behavior is suspect in the extreme. He is most certainly a traitor."
"..."
The Three Resistance Heroes sit about grumbling. The light from the fireplace flickers off the smooth marbling and illuminates The faces of each of them. Braelor had gathered them all upon his return, giving report of his odd conversation with The Archmage. He seemed to be relatively suspicious of him... although Statis was the ice mage's staunch defender. Even The Sea King seemed to be pondering things over very carefully, but the facts The Cultist had fabricated should be convincing enough. Given enough time they would surely come to-
*Bang*
He jumped as the door at the far end of the hall was slammed open in a panic. One of the guards scurried in - spewing apologies as he nigh sprinted across the room.
"Lord Braelor! Lord Braelor! I-m sorry to interrupt, but they've found us! Eight CC corpses were found in the tunnels beneath the eastern tower! Their communications equipment are undamaged! The Empire... The Empire is upon us!"
Faze & Slayer: *screaming*
Guide: *runs into the room* Slayer?! What's wrong?!
F: Wait, why are you asking Bitch only? i was also screaming!
G: Because The Slayer wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You scream whenever you see anything resembling a worm.
~Nam
I cut out all the wack.
lmao.
So Quick notes, PG's Equipment has been broken even since The Arms Dealer shot a hole in it. (That was a long time ago lol) She tried to make Slayer fix it, but bae don't even know what he's looking at. mechanic has got this.
Mechanic was kidnapped by Resistance and given to LC and forced into slave labor to raise The Moon Lord as a contition of LC's betreyal. (if you read the previous iteration of this chapter, you would know this, but it was mentioned by LC earlier, an I will elaborate later. She built Skelly prime as support of ML's body). She's mostly sane rn.
So if you recall, Faze had actually freed the Mechanic while killing all of Cultists for fun.
Guide is all laid up because he just got 3 teeth pulled out, his thumb-bone taken and one of his ears sliced off per the Voodoo Doll recipie.
I know ichor arrows aren't until post WOF, but Faze killed Plantera already so imma bend the rules very slightly.
much love.