Wow this ran long e.e

My precious Slayerrr (getting reckt by zombies) lmao

Guide has some srs ptsd

Armour: Wood

Weap: Zombie Arm

Acc (11): None

Health: 20/100

No… it's not her… a corpse couldn't wander this far in a single night...

The Guide sighed from his high treetop perch and looked out over the nighttime forest. Above, the moon was large and low - shedding it's eerie light down upon the corpse infested woods. Demon Eyes zipped back and forth in the open air, occasionally cutting silhouettes across the moonlight. Beneath, the walking corpses wandered by - shuffling and groaning and unable to reach his treetop refuge. The Guide, bow and arrow in hand, watched the nighttime procession with a somber numbness. There were more creatures than expected here… were they somehow attracted to this place?

I wonder if the townspeople rose as zombies… I want to see them again, but… probably not like that...

Sunset found The Guide distraught, frustrated and lonely. He had - rather childishly - run from the safety of The Terrarain's shed and into the dense forest, just to be alone with his thoughts. The Guide never considered himself a particularly short tempered man. Neither did he often find himself controlled by the whims of his own emotions. Typically he held strict control over himself… but something about The Terrarian just annoyed him to no end. Perhaps it was the disdainful silence? The ungratefulness? The rudeness? Likely a combination of all three. The Guide was doing himself no favors - mentally - by staying in The Terrarain's shed. He needed to mourn his family, and The Terrarian was possibly the worst company The Guide could seek out for this particular activity.

Technically the Vulture-headed mage would be the -absolute worst- company, with The Terrarain bringing a close second place… humph...

Besides, judging by the man's few, cold reactions, The Guide was pretty certain The Terrarain likewise wished to be left alone. He didn't seem to crave companionship the same way normal people did, which... wasn't particularly unexpected. Since physically, The Terrarian wasn't a 'typical human', it'd be foolish to expect psychological normalcy of him.

My entire town for this… this… almost-man...

The Guide leaned back against the tree bough and sighed. He has finished crying a while ago, but the outlet didn't seem to ease the pain. It was difficult coming to terms with the fact his old life had just been absolutely and violently demolished. Even now, he felt he was somehow dreaming, like it hadn't actually happened. He had procrastinated all day, keeping himself busy so he didn't think about his hometown. He had indulged in all sorts of mental and physical pursuits to avoid focusing on the grim reality which hovered like a dark cloud over his head. Only now, sitting alone in the dark - could he effectively languish in his grief.

What happened to them? Did they suffer when they died? Was it prolonged? Their faces were so twisted… the pain must have been terrible...

Now that he'd been drawn out into the dark forest by a groan he thought may have belonged to his deceased sister - he could avoid reality no longer. Everyone was dead. Everyone he had ever known. His parents. His siblings. His friends. His hometown was gone. Nothing remained but smouldering ruins…and him.

Why did I survive? I just happened to go fishing that day, and... and I come back to this disaster...what am I supposed to do now… ?

He thought he'd be mentally prepared for this sort of situation. He had gone through the exercises, imagining some calamity befell his town, imagining what he intended to do afterwards. After all, the fact that their current despot seemed to waver between crushing depression and outbursts of megalomania meant the threat of destruction was constantly looming over the horizon. The nearly continuous stream of refugees who stopped in the village to beg food were a reminder of how quickly one's life could be upturned in this chaotic world.

The little happy village, fraught with danger on all sides… finally consumed by the darkness.

So… what was he supposed to do about it? Simply take the blow lying down? Cover his head and flee, cowering into the dark, glad to be spared the disaster which was inflicted upon his loved ones? Was his fate merely to cringe and carry on? To live life quietly as the great forces on high continued to play with the lives of those on the earth beneath, until today's disaster caught up to him?

No! No!

It rankled him. The very idea soured his stomach. Was that little village - the last stronghold at the edge of the writhing crimson - simply to vanish into the annals of obscurity? Nonsense. The vulture-headed mage must suffer. He must pay for the atrocity he had committed! Someone must punish him. Somebody…

But who?... who's going to do that for you?! Where will you find somebody strong enough?

The Guide curled his lip into a snarl, and in his helplessness, wrathfully took aim at an approaching zombie. His hands trembled - but not from the weight of the bow. His vision was blurred, but not from mourning. He let the arrow fly and it grazed the creature before snapping itself uselessly on a tree trunk. The zombie didn't even notice the attack and continued to shuffle along. The Guide glared at it as if he could kill it with his gaze alone.

Yeah. Try that against King Yharim… See how it turns out for you...

Revenge was impossible. What power did he, the town bookworm, have in him to punish anybody, much less the mage who single-handedly demolished his entire village? There were warriors in the town. Strong men who were skilled with the sword. If they could not guard against the Vulture-headed mage, then what hope did The Guide have? Power was everything in this world, and The Guide had simply been born lacking.

Ugh…

So… so now what? Should he kill himself? Just get it over with? It didn't sound so bad. After all, what else had he to live for? A quick blade through the windpipe was a comparatively merciful death. Surely better than what the Townspeople endured at the hands of that mage. Well… first he'd take The Terrarian down to the village and make him bury everyone… he seemed good enough at digging - and although he was rude, he didn't seem bothered by hard, monotonous wor-...

...

"You Idiot!"

The Guide almost slapped himself as he exclaimed the words out loud. How could he be so stupid! The Guide scarcely forgot anything (his memory captured so much, that it had at times become burdensome), yet had managed to overlook the nature of his newfound companion. He had even formed a suicidal resolve whilst a glimmer of hope nigh walked beside him! Gritting his teeth, The Guide berated himself and vowed to never again make weighty decisions while under the influence of such strong emotion.

"Don't be stupid. You have a Terrarian. A mighty warrior!"

He had a Terrarain holed up not a hundred paces away. Someone akin to a legendary creature with the potential to take down gods. If The Guide raised him correctly, and The Terrarian grew to fulfill the legends of old, then surely he'd be able to crush the Vulture-Headed Mage. The Terrarian could be a proxy of The Guide's vengeance… that is, if the Guide played his cards correctly.

I'd better go back… try to teach him some combat… I wonder if he wants to learn archery?

Despair banished and replaced with a new resolve, The Guide quickly stashed away his bow and (after checking if there were any corpses lumbering about) hopped out of his tree. As he padded through the undergrowth, his imagination ran away with him. What could he do with a Terrarian under his command? Conquer cities? Rule nations? Spirits giddy, he was ill prepared for the sight he would shortly stumble upon.

Well perhaps he already knows how to fight… he automatically knew how to chop trees, but archery is much more technica-... Is that a torch?

Startled, The Guide's steps grew hesitant as he peered through the dense forest. There was a light coming from a nearby tree - a torch had been mounted there, doubtlessly by The Terrarian himself. Had he wandered into the night despite The Guide's warnings? Probably. The almost-man didn't seem to take any instruction seriously.

What's he doing out here… I hope he didn't attract the horde… I need this guy aliv- oh no...

The Guide broke into a noisy run. Plowing through the undergrowth, not caring if he attracted any of the nighttime prowlers. After all, it seemed they were all congregated together in the small lighted clearing. He could already see several dismembered corpses scattered amongst the trees (surely the results of The Terrarian's untrained combat), but The Guide knew zombies were never alone. Where there was one, there were a hundred. Had the Terrarian managed to escape? The Guide dearly hoped so, but as he approached, his spirits quailed at the gruesome sight.

Oh no… no no no...

There was The Terrarian, staggering in the lamplight - wildly swinging a zombie arm as undead creatures mobbed him. One was clinging to his back and trying to sink its teeth into his neck. Another had him by the leg, and having dislodged the armour, was clawing great gashes into his calf. Yet another had him about the waist - threatening to drag him to the ground. Had the Terrarian not been dressed head to toe in a now-wrecked set of wooden armour, he would've been long dead. However, the armour was at its breaking point. It was cracked in many places by blunt impacts, and blood leaked out, dyeing the green grass crimson. The Terrarian wouldn't last much longer. If The Guide didn't want another body to bury come morning, he needed to intervene.

I thought he was supposed to be some amazing fighter!? Ugh… No, nevermind… phew… focus...

The Guide took a deep breath and lined up a shot, cheek nearly pressed against the arrow's shaft. He took aim at the Zombie which was chewing its way through the Terrarian's collar plating and willed his heartbeat to slow. When it didn't, haste caused him to allow the arrow to fly anyways. With a satisfying thrum - It sailed rapidly through the air only - (to The Guide's horror) to find it's mark deep in The Terrarian's shoulder. The Terrarian reacted badly to the unexpected impact, and with a grunt - teetered backwards, threatening to collapse beneath the weight of the mob.

Ack! No… okay- careful this time…

Cursing himself, the Guide reached for another arrow… two left - and took aim once again. When was the last time he missed his target?! When was the last time his archery fell short?! He could hardly remember. The shock of this great failure weighed heavily on him as he drew back his bowstring - his breath shuddering all the while. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and his vision growing sharp under stress, he once again took aim. As the fletchings flew past his fingertips, he offered a prayer to whatever gods heard him.

C'mon… c'mon...

This time his shot flew true. The arrow sank into the eye socket of the zombie who had nearly gotten through to The Terrarain's jugular - pinning it to a tree trunk behind. It uttered a final groan before it's twitching ceased. Two more arrows met their marks, and the strugglings of the ghastly undead were silenced, their bodies splayed on the grassy, bloodied ground.

And amongst them lay The Terrarian, who had finally collapsed under the weight of his injuries. He made no struggle. Neither did he make a sound. The Guide rushed to him, only to find him still and silent as death itself.

Haha cliffhanger but not really.

If you're reading let me know.