Character dynamiccss. My Slayer is so sweet. Guide less sweet lol.

Btw, Terrarian is pretty much a speedrunner of this game, cuz he didn't die a single time while mining in the underground. He also maxed his life crystals. It's cuz Arkhalis is OP lol (I know in 1.4 Arhkalis has been replaced by Terragrim, but I'm playing 1.3 modded. In 1.3 you have a 10% change to get Arkhalis instead of Enchanted sword, and I struck gold. so freaking excited when it dropped lol) - also I know copper pickaxe can't mine platinum, but I had a reaver shark so eh.

Armour: Platinum

Weapon: Platinum Bow (Fire Arrows), Arkhalis

Acc (11): Band of Regeneration, Radar, Hermes Boots, Round Shield, Aglet,

Health: 395/400

After spending nearly two straight days mining underground, the surface air tasted heavenly. He drew a deep breath and let the cool, fresh air tickle his lungs, flushing out the remaining coal dust that seemed to permeate the caverns. It was already late afternoon by the time the two men crawled out from the Sky Tree's long trunk, and compared to the browns and grays of the underground, the deep radiant colours of the overworld were so vibrant - The Terrarian couldn't help but remove his helmet to admire them.

"Hey, chop chop, we've got crafting to do!"

He blinked and turned his head as The Guide hobbled ahead of him. The man wasn't entirely healed (he could only down a single healing potion - claiming any more would make him ill), yet there was a bounce in his step that hadn't been there before. The Terrarian didn't know why he'd be in a good mood, but opted not to worry himself about it. Today's display clearly indicated The Guide's thoughts were far beyond his own. That man exhibited not only a shocking knowledge of the world, but also an oppressively powerful control of language. It took only a few moments under that power for The Terrarian's frigid anger to melt into guilt.

...

To be honest, looking back - he was quite embarrassed about it. Guilt? The word never crossed his mind until the stinging emotion jostled his heart. Why did he feel guilty? Not because he had injured someone. Of course not. From the moment he'd been born, he'd been killing creatures one after the other without even the hint of remorse shadowing his conscience. Why would he feel anything? They were mere creatures. They existed to serve a purpose, and their purpose was to be killed by him so he could harvest their remains. That was it.

(Could you grab that mushroom?)

And for the longest time, The Terrarian looked at his Guide through the same brutally utilitarian lens. The talkative man was merely there to dispense useful information when asked. That was his purpose. Nothing more. Nothing less. For all The Terrarian cared, The Guide's personality was entirely extraneous. He might as well be a walking recipe book. If The Guide wasn't as useful as he'd proven to be, The Terrarian would have either killed or abandoned him long ago.

…

But now, things have changed. He'd come into conflict with The Guide, and - to his bewilderment - had been crushed. Although The Terrarian won the physical confrontation, he'd lost the mental one, and lost quite badly at that. It was almost surreal to experience. The Guide, who was so weak he could hardly sit upright, had soundly clobbered him with nothing but uttered noise.

...

The Guide had beaten him. He, who had spent all day tirelessly slaying creatures of all kinds. He, who had blown a great hole in the bowels of the earth to steal the treasures beneath. He had slaughtered everything that moved as he roamed the underground. He had collected whatever his eyes alighted upon. Copper, Iron, Silver, Platinum. Jewels of all sorts. Whatever struck his fancy. Like a raging conqueror, he stood unopposed as he looted the subterranean kingdom…

But… but his rampage finally stopped when he went to retrieve The Guide. He was finally defeated and brought to heel by that man's silvered tongue.

(Hey! Hurry it up! The day isn't getting any younger!)

Had The Guide been reading the thoughts out of his head? It certainly seemed that way. Perhaps his power wasn't that of brute strength, but of knowledge and wit. How had he done it? What mysterious influence did The Guide wield, that he could wrench The Terrarian's heart wherever he pleased with mere words? Could he do it again? Could he do it to anyone?

...

Terrifying. Whatever it was, it merited respect.

A respect The Terrarian was fain to give. He wasn't particularly happy needing to show reverence, after all - he had discovered himself a rather proud man. Still… he couldn't deny the reality of his position. He had walked into a confrontation. He had walked out completely dominated, even carrying The Guide on his back. Someone who could do that to him wasn't a mere creature. He certainly wasn't a recipe book.

...

He was an equal.

"Is… is that all of it?"

It was a rhetorical question. The Guide simply uttered the words because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Perhaps he should have expected this too, but expecting something and seeing it with his own eyes were two entirely different experiences. The Terrarian had already demonstrated his ability to produce seemingly infinite amounts of raw timber. The Guide had guessed he was able to do the same with stone, and perhaps dirt…

But diamonds too? Isn't this a bit... Unfair?

The Guide had never been rich. He hadn't ever been desperately poor, but images of shimmering jewels and gold bars regularly plagued his dreams. Now he was looking at more money than he'd ever imagined. A thousand cut diamonds had been spilled carelessly into his hands. Each shimmering with an entrancing light. Each as large as a robin's egg. The Terrarian stood before him, watching curiously as The Guide gaped at the treasure, clearly not understanding their monetary value.

"Have they any use."

Once again, a question stated like demand. This time The Guide wasn't offended (not that anyone could be offended after being given several hundred diamonds). Although The Terrarian's speech patterns remained as rude and monotonous as ever, something in his demeanor had changed. There was a - perhaps grudging - respect underlying those words. How curious that The Guide was only treated with any semblance of regard after repeatedly punching The Terrarian in the face. It reminded him of the village's strongmen, who would only form a friendship with someone after they spent some time knocking each other's teeth out.

Humph. Bonds forged of barbarism… well, it worked. That's all that matters… ack!

The Guide flinched as several of the diamonds tumbled from his palms and clattered, rolling past his elbows on the wooden tabletop. He watched with bated breath as they bumped into the several pounds of silver ore before finally coming to rest next to the nuggets of Platinum.

I've… I've just become incredibly rich...

The Terrarian, impatient, stated his 'question' once more.

"Use."

"Ah… yes- "

The Guide hesitated before rattling off the recipe for the most expensive hook ever created. Typically a gem hook would be crafted with the much more abundant amethyst, and even those were mind-bendingly expensive. A diamond hook? It was merely a theoretical construct… a construct that The Terrarian had just finished snapping together over the anvil.

What an amazing creature...I'll certainly be able to use him…

As The Terrarian wandered off to test his new climbing hook - The Guide carefully laid the remaining gems down, and stood up to check on his supper.

At the other end of the red-bricked patio (a patio the Terrarian had insisted on building) were the various workstations. A furnace for smelting ore into bars. An anvil, on which one would meticulously shape the metal into swords, armor, helmets and bows. Under The Guide's instruction, his miraculous companion had already made short work of the smelted platinum. He had no qualms about pounding the ludicrously valuable alloy into a matching armour and bow. The process of crafting was just as astonishing as the storage. The finest craftsmanship The Guide had ever seen congealed beneath The Terrarian's hands in a disdainfully short amount of time.

If the village blacksmith saw this… phew… he'd be in despair.

And that was all well and good. Platinum was one of the strongest metals available, and would certainly offer The Terrarian ample protection from the threats in this area. If The Terrarian made sure to wear his armour (something he appeared quite happy to do), then The Guide would have no qualms about leaving him alone for a day or two whilst he made the journey to bury the villagers.

They… shouldn't be undead… definitely not. Zombies operate on the residual life… and the summoning should have consumed it all...

Mood suddenly soured, The Guide sighed as he tapped his makeshift spoon against the cast iron cooking pot. It was a comparatively paltry meal - a soup made of a handful of mushrooms, a bundle of gathered herbs and several small minnows for flavouring - but The Guide was so sick of raw mushrooms he'd rather consume tree bark. The soup would do just fine for tonight… and - if he could convince The Terrarian to come down from that tree (wow he's quite high up) - he'd hopefully sleep between silken sheets for the very first time.

"Terrarian! You're going to kill yourself! Get down! There's more crafting to do!"

The Terrarian ignored him and continued to haphazardly launch himself between tree branches with that sparkling hook. Frankly, even if he did fall - The Guide was convinced he'd get right back up as if broken bones didn't actually matter. After all - The Terrarian still had an arrowhead buried in his shoulder joint, and seemed to have forgotten about it entirely - as it clearly wasn't hindering his range of motion.

Humph...

The Guide watched him for a few more moments, then shrugged and focused back on his supper. He would leave at daybreak tomorrow, his bag was already packed. He wasn't sure how long he'd be gone, so he had prepared provisions and clothing for a week. The Terrarian hadn't asked where he was going when The Guide requested supplies of him. He didn't even show a passing interest. He had simply made The Guide solemnly promise he'd return before creating whatever was requested of him.

I mean… he's not nosy… at least.

The Guide was fairly certain The Terrarian's apathy would be detrimental to accomplishing his revenge. The Guide was certainly motivated. He wanted to kill the Vulture-headed mage more than he loved his own life. The Terrarian - obviously- didn't share this view. He was currently lacking any sort of goal, and The Guide needed to carefully instill his own purpose into the man. Was it manipulation? Yes. Malicious? Probably. But The Guide kept his eyes on the prize. If he wanted a brutal revenge, then surely he needed to resort to brutal means to obtain it. If The Terrarian was hurt along the way - well, that was a sacrifice The Guide was more than willing to make. Hopefully the Terrarian was strong enough to tolerate whatever The Guide used him for.

Humph… I'll have to think about the best way to motivate him. Should I make something up? Spin a couple of lies? Hm…

The Guide exhaled hard, flaring his nostrils. He… didn't like pondering these things. He knew they were wrong, but he also knew it was wrong his village had been destroyed. He was a little man. He was insignificant. If he decided to live quietly, abiding by both the rules of his conscious and those of the tyrannical powers which lorded over him, what could he possibly accomplish? He couldn't obtain revenge without soiling his hands… he knew this.

Focus.

And so, before he stained hishands with blood - he'd first pay respects to his family.

dun dun dun...

shits gonna go dowwwn.