Finally! I'm back! Sorry I took a pretty long break for the holidays! It was pretty busy and finally got that summary out of the way. Happy new year to all you beautiful readers. Much love and kiss.
Armour: Victide Armour (Ranger)
Weapon: Tendon Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Amidas Spark, Sailfish Boots, Luxor's Gift, Ocean Crest, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Aero Stone, Shield of the Ocean
Health: (400/400)
The things being said to him were so utterly ridiculous, The Terrarian was hardly able to grasp them. Although he was sure he understood the meaning of each individual word coming from that sprawling mass of shrubbery, he knew he must be misunderstanding... because The Dryad was his friend. Right? And surely The Dryad wouldn't be lying to him.
"-reason, I suspect, that The Blessed one wishes to accompany you into The Crimson. Humans are strange beings I'd say. All wrapped up into irrational anger and pithy selfishness. He most definitely is not thinking clearly, which is why I have put him to sleep for a bit. Somehow, he imagines killing himself will solve everything! Can you imagine that?!"
"..."
Yes. The Dryad wouldn't lie... but if she wasn't lying, then why was she saying such odd things? The Guide killing himself? Nonsense. He had just recently promised, double promised, that he wouldn't die again. Was The Dryad accusing The Guide of lying? Impossible. He trusted The Guide. The Guide had never steered him wrong. The Guide was always right, and The Guide would not lie. The Guide was very goal orientated, and he was very smart. He wanted to destroy The Crimson because... well, The Terrarian didn't really know why - but he was certain that The Guide neither wanted to die, nor believed his death would do anything to accomplish anything.
I think I misunderstand... ah... well... I will ask The Guide about it.
But regardless, The Dryad continued to hover over him, telling him all of these terrible and odd things about 'The Wall' and 'The Blessing' and 'A Seal' and 'The Villagers'. Frankly, he understood none of it, but neither was he curious. He had long tired of these sorts of complicated mental exercises and was more than happy to push these concerns on The Guide. In fact, this conversation would be merely child's play for that man's impressive brain. The Guide would probably already know the correct answer to this sort of confusing diatribe.
He would respond with something even more confusing... I wish he were here, but I don't want to wake him. He will be upset.
The sun filtered weakly down through the stained glass and reflected oddly off The Dryad's many iridescent pieces as she shifted about, gesticulating as she spoke. The bright oranges of sunset cast The Dryad's long and winding form in sharp relief. Her many translucent fluttering wings, decorated with imperceptible veins like cracks in glass, stirred the air hypnotically, casting forth a calming scent. A great myriad of incredible flowers bloomed upon her - or perhaps the blooms were part her? The Terrarian always tried to figure out where she started and ended whenever he visited her, but he had never come to any sort of conclusion. (She didn't seem to mind his staring). Regardless she was like the very essence of the forest, and ever since they had purged The Crimson together, The Terrarian had found he liked her very much... except for the part where she mussed his feathered plume.
...and when she was lecturing him! He was sure the only person who would be giving him lectures was The Guide, but apparently The Dryad wanted him to listen to her as well! Tch.
It was already late in the day, and although The Terrarian never really physically tired, the mental strain of today's (several, rather mild interactions) begged for peace and quiet. His poor brain was doing it best to keep up, and frankly, wasn't doing a good job at all. He felt himself go cross-eyed as The Dryad continued to blast him with unsolicited drabble.
"So, my dear, you had absolutely got to make sure he stays here, safe, with me. You can go ahead and do whatever you may well please, but not The Blessed one. You wouldn't want him to die would you? The Blessing would dissolve and The Wall will break free. We certainly cannot have that, right? Surely you will not let him take advantage of you to allow him to murder himself."
"...no...(?)"
"That's right, Little Creature. Excellent. I knew you'd understand me!"
The Dryad made a pleased noise and reached out a terrifyingly large insect's leg to pat him on the head. The claws got tangled in his feathered plume and he immediately swatted her away before she yanked any of the immaculate feathers out. She twittered and chuckled at his distress, pulling out those great fans of iridescent eyes to hover about him and observe as he fretted over his headgear. In return, he regarded her with two parts annoyance and one part exhaustion. How unfortunate. Instead of exploring and fighting monsters in The Crimson, here he was, listening to barely understandable lectures. This was probably his own fault. The Terrarian supposed that he had taken too long in disposing of The Goblin Tinkerer and The Guide had fallen asleep in his absence. To be honest, that was a little strange, as The Guide didn't usually sleep before sunset, but The Terrarian had activities planned to fill the time.
I wonder what the Workshop can do...
The Goblin Tinkerer had in his pack a strange tabletop machination upon which many odd tools were attached. He never seen such things before. It was akin to an entire miniature workshop, and he was very eager to experiment with it. He sighed as he smoothed down the feathers of his helm before fastening it back atop his chassis with a satisfying click. With crafting on his mind, he turned on his heel and faced the exit.
"Little Creature."
The Dryad called out to him, swooping down and extended herself to block his path. Her voice - normally composed of the twittering of birds and the creaking of boughs - dropped into a more gravelly and booming tone. Something that was much deeper and more serious, as if composed of the rumbling of the earth itself. Her thousands of iridescent eyes shimmered with a hard light as she spoke, and the air and the stone reverberated with the mighty noise.
"Little Creature, promise me that The Guide will not leave The Compound."
"...?"
Now The Dryad was speaking clearly. The Terrarian furrowed his brow beneath his helmet and shook his head.
"The Guide said we will go to The Crimson today, but he fell asleep. We will go when he wakes."
"Ah, Little Creature. You..." The Dryad's entire body seemed to wilt, as if she were mildly disappointed with him. After a moment, she addressed him once more, and with renewed vigor. Thankfully she seemed to realize he required direct instruction, and not a fire hose of information.
"Little Creature. You cannot let him leave. He will die if he leaves."
Oh. What was this? The Terrarian regarded the great mass of woodland with an incredulous gaze. He curled his lip and repeated The Guide's promise emphatically. "He will not die. We will go together and he will not die. He has promised not to die."
"... ah, My Darling. Poor, precious Little Creature..."
The Dryad crooned over him and slithered the majority of her bulk off the ceiling and onto the castle's stone floor. Vines and legs sprouted outwards to keep the mass of fungus, boughs and moss suspended in some sort of reasonable shape. Her form was reminiscent of that night when the two of them rode out along the horizon, banishing The Crimson from the area - and although it was always shocking to see The Dryad unfurl her full glory, he wasn't afraid of her. She was an ally and, although he did not know what she was talking about, he trusted she was on his side.
"Little Creature... do you think The Guide tells you everything?"
There was the noise of stirring and coughing outside the castle. The Terrarian briefly turned to investigate when The Dryad rapped sharply on his helmet to draw his attention. She repeated her inquiry, requiring and answer of him.
"As much as it pains me to say, my dear, you're as dull as a box of river stones. The Guide may have tried to tell you things, but this little head of yours-" she tapped his helmet once more, "Just doesn't hold much at all! There are things you don't know about The Guide, and I assure you that there -are- things that he has hidden from you!"
"..."
The Terrarian blinked and stared at The Dryad through the vertical slats in his visor. The insult stung a bit, but such a statement didn't come as a surprise. He knew he wasn't cut out for these mental gymnastics (although it was a bit concerning that what he considered to be 'gymnastics' appeared to be very basic to everyone else) and that naturally meant he had less information. He was fine with this. The Guide handled the thinking... but if The Guide did not tell him something, he would be none the wiser.
He is hiding something? Something important? About The Guide dying? That's...
The Terrarian's expression tightened and he narrowed his eyes at The Dryad. The coughing from outside of The Castle had ceased, only to be replaced by stumbling footsteps. They were The Guide's, and he was quickly coming here. Frankly, The Terrarian felt a little guilty for talking about his 'parent' without the man in attendance, but nevertheless posed his query.
"Dryad, what is it that is hidden from me... what is so important."
The Dryad responded. She seemed relieved that he was finally listening to her.
"Darling, listen. The Guide... in order to kill all The Crimson, he will need to kill himself. He will use your blind faith to fulfill this purpose - and not only break your heart, but ruin this world!"
*thud... Bang!*
"SLAAYER!"
The Terrarian flinched as a raw voice screamed his name and one of the castle's large doors was thrown open. The Guide staggered inside - the iron gate clanging sharply off the interior stone walls. The man himself was wroth, his face twisted in fury and his eyes burning like live coals. He was breathing hard, his nostrils flared and his eyes so wide, the whites stood out on his face. He stood there in the doorway like a snarling spectre and glared in at them. Behind, The Terrarian could hear The Dryad gathering herself up, as if for a confrontation. She rustled and twittered.
"Don't you see, darling? Look at him. He is desperate. Desperate and suicidal. For his own good, you need to keep hi-"
The Guide sucked air and shifted his gaze to The Dryad. It was a gaze full of unfettered hate. He bared his teeth and spoke once more. He didn't speak loudly, in fact, he almost whispered... but the command, the authority, made his words sharp and forceful. Both of them heard him. Loud and clear.
"Slayer... Listen to me. Right now. Draw your sword."
"..."
He did so. Obeying almost out of force of habit. The Guide raked over him with that blazing gaze and lifted a hand to point at The Dryad. His words were slow and wrathful. There was no mistake. No room for misinterpretation. The words he spoke, the command he gave, filled The Terrarian with a sense of dread he hadn't known before.
"Slayer. Kill The Dryad."
A long and pregnant silence. The order hung in the air like a slew of fog. The Terrarian was stunned. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to make a sound. Finally, he found the voice to raise some sort of query, but was cut off once more. This time, although his expression was fierce, The Guide's voice was calm, his eyes were sad.
"...Guid-"
"Slayer. Now you choose. Choose her. Or choose me. If you choose her, I will surely die. If you choose me, you must kill her. Your Loyalty. Prove it in blood!"
"Hero?!"
His magically enhanced voice echoed, rolling and booming over the blood-red landscape like thunder. His scans zoomed over the landscape only to come back fruitless. The Cultist had not expected this. He had never had trouble scrying out the locations of those he needed to find, but somehow - inexplicably - The Hero had simply disappeared!
Fallen off the face of the earth!
The Cultist gritted his teeth and glared over the stinking, fleshy horizon. There was no evidence of The Hero here. Neither was there any evidence of struggle or a fight. He wasn't here... and he wasn't 'dead' in a traditional sense... so where was he?
... Did The Archmage cast a cloaking spell over him? I never taught him a spell which will shield him from my eyes. He would not have cast it on himself...
The Cultist cursed bitterly as he floated his way over the ruins of The Crimson Village. His mission was to bring The Hero back to his side, something he thought would be reasonably easy - as The Hero had nobody else to cling to... however it appeared The Archmage had really thrown a wrench in the works. What was that old man planning?! Did he hate The Lunatic Cultist so much that he would sabatogue the entire Resistance effort just to destroy him?
Hmph... The Archmage. Antiquated old sorcerer. How dare he accuse me of insanity and tried to strip away my magic! I will never forgive such an affront!
Nonsense. The Lunatic Cultist would not lose to The Archmage, no matter what.
And if they were fighting over control of The Hero, The Lunatic Cultist would not lose.
LC: Faze, come here!
Faze: You're not my real dad!
Archmage: Well... I'm not either.
Faze: AAAaaaa!
Rip Slayer.
I'm hoping to blaze through a bunch of bosses soon, but I dunno if I will manage it.
Say hi to me in comments ty