ayyyyyyy day 1 end. Ngl I don't really have a game plan written out super nice for this. I just want to indulge in world building. Lol. Just watch this story be like 150 chaps long. It'll beat out my 120 ch story 0.0
Armour: Wood
Weap: Wooden Bow (Arrows), Zombie Arm
Acc (11): None
Health: 95/100
Morning crept upon him like a thief, waking The Guide from a vigil he hadn't realized he had broken. Groggy and exhausted, he rolled to his side and sat up, sore from laying asleep on the hardwood floor. He coughed and rubbed his eyes as the chilly morning breeze blew in from the open door, causing the warm indoors campfire to sputter and wildly throw sparks.
Ugh… what's going on…
What happened last night? The Guide's memory had yet to rouse itself. He yawned once more and looked about. He was situated in The Terrarian's boring (but incredibly well built) shed. The room was heated to a comfortable temperature by the roaring - open air - campfire in the middle of the room. It was a curious thing, a flame which seemed to require neither fuel nor oxygen to power itself. Neither did it seem to spread to consume the wooden floor upon which it was so haphazardly lain. How neat and polite of it. Truly an anomaly.
You're talking to a campfire…
The Guide pursed lips, shook his head and climbed to his feet, only then realizing his own condition. He was filthy. Not covered in dirt and twigs, no, that was the least of it. There was blood streaking his arms and knees, blood that had since dried and begun to stink. The same colour stained the floor beside him where he had lain The Terrarian that night. The image triggered his memory, and the events of last evening hit him like a truck.
Ugh! Yuck!
Repulsed, The Guide leapt back - adrenaline coursing through his veins. What had happened last night? Well, The Terrarian had nearly died. Clawed into submission by a mob of perhaps… ten members of the undead horde before The Guide stumbled upon him. The Guide had conducted a less-than-flawless rescue, which (rather shamefully) involved burying an arrowhead deep into The Terrarian's rotary cuff, yet despite the difficulties, he had successfully put down his companion's attackers and extracted his charge before the rest of the horde overran them.
Oh no… where did he go?! Did he drag himself outside to die? Or did… did he just… disappear?
Yet, as dramatic as the rescue was - the true ordeal didn't begin until they had escaped behind the shed's sturdy walls. The Guide didn't have time to check on The Terrarian's condition while out in the woods. He knew well the behavior of zombies. They were attracted by the scent of blood, a scent which would draw every single undead in a mile radius. From the Guide's estimations, that would amount to perhaps a hundred of the ghastly creatures. Considering The Terrarian was spilling his blood quite generously to the ground, it would only be a few minutes before more zombies staggered upon them.
And so, for the second evening in a row, The Guide had hauled The Terrarian over his shoulders and made a mad dash for the shed, the shambling horde fast on his heels. Once safely within, he immediately bolted the heavy doors shut and laid the Terrarian on the ground, intending to perform whatever first aid he could manage. As he stripped the broken armour from The Terrarian, his spirits sank lower and lower.
… nobody could survive those injuries… how did he manage to crawl outside?
The Terrarian had been absolutely brutalized. The flesh on his left leg had been torn so badly, The Guide could see bone beneath the tattered flaps of skin and muscle. One of his arms had been broken and hung limply. The Guide's arrow was lodged in his other arm. There was a great chunk of muscle bitten from his shoulder. A wound that had cut an artery which pumped blood all over the pristine wooden floor. His heart was beating, yes - but for how much longer?
Ugh! Why did you have to go wandering around at night!? You were supposed to take revenge for me!
And so - The Guide, in his despair, had done whatever he could do. He had no potions on hand. He had no stitches with which to sew the wounds. All he had were the clothes on his back and a badly bleeding invalid who would likely never walk - much less fight - ever again. How cruel, he'd thought to himself. Destiny seemed to be mocking him. First it destroyed everything he ever loved, and - in his despair - dangled hope for revenge before his eyes. Yet… now it had snatched even that away.
I guess… I should burn the body… I'd rather not see him join the ranks of the undead.
The Guide gritted his teeth and clutched his stomach, letting out a pained groan. Frustrated anger bloomed in his head as he halfheartedly kicked at the sad pile of bloodstained bandages that lay where his hope had died last night. He had been using them to staunch the blood pumping from The Terrarain's cut artery, and had vowed to stay awake to keep the pressure on. However, he had failed even in this small task.
Can't you do anything right? First you shoot him, then you let him bleed out… all your life you've never done anything but read… looks like it's all you're good for…
Suddenly the room was odious to him. This small, warm shed was a place of death and despair. The bloodstains on the floor were marks of The Guide's failure. The body - which was almost certainly lying cold on the doorstep - was a picture of his helplessness. The Guide clapped a hand over his mouth as his stomach flipped within him. He shut his eyes and pressed his back hard against the wall as if he could sink into it. His breath had grown short, and he gritted his teeth as he heaved under the great outpouring of terrible emotion.
First the village, now the Terrarian… nobody can survive you… you'll be alone until the day you die.
He needed to escape this place. Escape this dark shed and flee… but once he opened that door, he'd see the dead body. He knew he would. He could feel it on his bones. Oh, how he wished he could abandon his memory. How he wished he could forget this experience. Good memories were heartwarming, but bad ones? How they destroyed him. This night would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Face it, coward! Carry your sins...
And so, he steeled himself. He raised his eyes and focused on the light seeping through the gap in the door. The morning sun, which shone cheerfully down upon death and despair alike, was seeping in - almost mockingly beckoning him. Beckoning him to see the results of his ineptitude.
*fwump...thunk.*
The Guide took a deep breath and composed himself. He was a man, no longer a child. The world was cruel and harsh, and he needed to accept it. He set his face like flint and grimly approached the door. Preparing himself for the mental anguish he felt he most certainly deserved.
*fwump...thunk.*
The door was heavy as he pushed it open, the smooth wood cool against his palms. The hinge creaked as it swung wide, flooding The Guide's vision with blinding light. He squinted his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling the cool misty air cool his lungs. Now… now he was ready.
*fwump...thunk.*
He looked about, eyes scanning the clearing for the Terrarian's body. Yet… he didn't see anything. How strange… had the body just vanished? Perhaps the summoning was undone and the Terrarian was returned to the void from which he came? He certainly wasn't undead. His corpse wouldn't rise until this evenin-... What was that?
*fwump...thunk… snap*
The Guide jumped as a noise rang out from behind the shed. The sound of twigs snapping? Was it a slime? The Guide had expended the remainder of his arrows on rescuing the now deceased Terrarian, and thereby lacked any method by which he could defend himself. With a sigh, he pushed his woes aside and circled the building to investigate.
*fwump...thunk…*
…
…
"You!"
The Guide sputtered, completely flabbergasted. His logical mind simply refused to process what his eyes had just alighted upon. In fact, he almost felt offended. Was he crazy? Hallucinating even? Perhaps the stress had gotten to his head. The Terrarian was dying last night. Dying. If he managed to survive the ordeal, he would live as an invalid for the rest of his life. Perhaps he would regain the ability to move once he had healed, but certainly not immediately after. Nobody stood up after suffering such brutality. The Guide had never heard of such a thing happening. Not even the legends of old spoke of miraculous regeneration without the presence of skilled mages.
"Guide."
So… so how on earth was The Terrarian standing there? Not only was he... quite whole, with barely a scratch on him, but he also possessed the rigor to clumsily fire arrows at a target dummy. On any other day The Guide would have scoffed at the man's dreadful form, but today he could do nothing but stand and stare.
"..."
"..."
*fwump...thunk…*
The Terrarian lowered his bow and turned towards him, his thousand mile stare piercing right through The Guide's forehead. They stood in silence for a long moment, before The Terrarian felt appropriate to break it. He tapped the shaft of The Guide's arrow - which (to his horror) remained lodged in The Terrarian's shoulder - and spoke in his flat voice. It was the longest sentence The Guide had ever heard him string together.
"I was impressed by your demonstration last night."
He paused. A long moment passed before the The Guide to manage to stutter a weak:
"D-demonstration?"
The Terrarian nodded sagely.
"I wish for you to teach me."
Guide boutta pass out lmao.
(Terrarian actually just died during the night and respawned. I know we need a bed to set respawn point but just roll with it plss.)
^ Corroded Vortex found me being smoothbrained and this is fake news. Arrow's still there. He just healed. Tkx Vortex :heart:
Say hi if you're reading :)