20 chapters flew by so fast wow
Armour: Platinum
Weapon: Platinum Bow (Fire Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(9/11): Band of Regeneration, Radar, Sailfish Boots, Round Shield, Aglet, Rover Drive, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg
Health: (395/400)
If The Terrarian thought the constant information spew was mind-numbing and difficult to follow, it was nothing compared to what he was barely tolerating now. Earlier in the evening, The Terrarian had made the decision to come clean. He had watched his only companion desperately try (and fail) to save the Old Merchant for several hours, and his mind inevitably wandered in a terrifying direction. What if The Guide was injured in such a manner? Would he have the knowledge and resources to save him? No. What if The Guide simply got up and fled. Would he be able to find him? Likewise, No.
'...just how it is. The strong reign supreme and they prey on the weak. There is no peace in this land. Neither understanding nor diplomacy. The King rose to power about 150 years ago, and...'
And if he really was some monster - an idea that had been lurking in the back of his mind ever since he began noting the difference in physical ability between himself and his Guide - then who else would ever accompany him? The creatures in the underground seemed to despise him the moment they lay eyes on him. In fact, they were filled with some ridiculous suicidal rage that caused them to throw themselves at his blade, even while he stood knee deep in their companion's corpses. They would never accept him.
'...at that point, several resistances rose up against the Tyrant King. Statis and Braelor are the leaders of the most formidable one. They have been fighting constant skirmishes in the northern mountains for the better part of the century - razing down that entire part of the country in...'
Humans wouldn't accept him either. He had done his best to ignore the terrified expression on the face of The Travelling Merchant when he bargained for a night's stay. That man knew he wasn't human, and that upsetting inkling growing in The Terrarian's mind burrowed ever deeper into his psyche. He did his best to ignore it - and when he found The Travelling Merchant had caused trouble for his Guide, he was more than happy to spearhead the plot to do away with him.
'...all the knowledge and wit in the world… but if I have no power, nothing will come to fruition. That's the rule here. Strength is everything, and I need your strength, Terrarian. Have you heard of Crimson? Of course you haven't, but...'
Yet, the foremost question in his mind had been this… Did the Guide know he wasn't human? Half of him said he surely did. The Guide seemed to know just about everything. Yet, The Guide didn't treat him as an 'other'. In fact, he was constantly and eagerly attempting to engage him in conversation. His cheerfulness was fake - however. Every time that man let down his facade, utter sadness and despair clouded his eyes. What did it mean? The Terrarian hadn't the faintest clue.
"...is what the Old Merchant said. I -we- have a decision to make then. Between the Sunken Sea or going directly to the Crimson and risking everything to..."
And the issue had come to a head last night. The Guide had been careless in his panic, and let a comment slip. He had called The Terrarian 'a monster' - which, although unsurprising, still struck him like a great blow to the gut. Having the words spoken aloud seemed to turn his speculations into reality and his mind ran wild with all sorts of theories. It had become far too much for him, he couldn't play mind games with The Guide lest he inevitably lose. He had already decided he would trust his companion one way or another, and now was as good time as any to aire his fears, desires and grievances.
'I think the best route is to go to the sunken sea first… The King there has many more resources than we do, and perhaps he can help us kill the Crimson brain. At least he has connections. King Yharim is all tied up in the north...'
So The Terrarian had done just that. He shelved his pride once more, and laid out the thoughts of his heart… and now, he was regretting it.
'And that's… Terrarian, are you listening?'
Because The Guide, evidently touched by such a gesture of curt honesty (he had said as much), had decided to respond in kind. Well… almost in-kind. The Guide didn't know how to be curt. He had spent an hour talking about the importance of power in politics, then delved into a long winded conversation about the past hundred years of history. He narrated the tales of several races of extinct peoples and their battles with a moon god, whose flesh infected the land with 'Crimson'. He spoke about the current administration and the resistance leaders. Somebody with a vulture-head was apparently to be greatly despised. A desert ruler who would help them in exchange for a certain golden medallion...
"Hello?!"
… and although this information was likely very useful to somebody, it was turning his brains into scrambled mush. The Terrarian didn't understand half of what was said, and had no context for whatever he did catch. The result was a terrifically boring lecture whose topic seemed to shift constantly. The Terrarian had never felt fatigue before. He had subjected himself to hard labour continuously from the moment he was born and was confident he could continue that way for the next hundred years without the slightest strain on his body. Yet… after an hour of this The Terrarian wanted to strip down, crawl into bed, and fall unconscious for a couple of hours.
"Hey!"
Knuckles rapped on his helmet and The Terrarian was stirred back to reality. He blinked a couple of times behind his visor and slowly turned to look at The Guide, who had abandoned his end of the kitchen table to walk over and unhappily stare down at him. He probably thought his monologue was intensely interesting, and was offended when his conservant didn't share his passion. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and pursed his lips - something he tended to do when distressed.
"Are you even paying attention?"
"...No."
"What?"
The Guide blinked at the curt answer. Perhaps he expected a polite lie in response, but The Terrarian was far too exhausted to mind his manners. He had entered into this conversation to make his thoughts plain to his Guide, and in response, the man had (excitedly) blasted him with enough information to fill an encyclopedia. Honestly, The Terrarian would much rather be bashed repeatedly over the head with said encyclopedia then endure this much longer. He exhaled hard.
"You're boring. I don't understand anything you say."
"..."
"..."
"Pffft."
The Guide snorted and broke into a low chuckle. Perhaps he wasn't as offended as he made out to be. He went back to his end of the table and crossed in front of the blazing fireplace before slumping into his chair. The shadows cast by the flames flickered over light brown bangs, intelligent eyes and a good-natured smirk. Just recently the man had gotten significantly more relaxed around him. The Terrarian had no idea why (he didn't pay attention to The Guide's long winded explanation) but it was probably a good thing if The Guide was happy… even if it meant the man talked even more. In fact, the only moment he was silent was whilst eating his supper.
The Guide propped his elbow on the tabletop and leaned his cheek against his fist.
"What? I thought you loved my company?! Fine, I get it. Not interested in history, I see. Let's talk about something more, pertinent. How about it?"
The Terrarian offered a curt nod and immediately The Guide's jolly demeanor began to dissolve. By the time he opened his mouth to speak - he had become dangerously serious. The Guide was no longer playing around. Even as his cadence grew slow and measured, the atmosphere likewise changed, becoming cold and solemn.
"About yourself… You were right. You are not a human… Neither are you a monster… and I have a suspicion 'Terrarian' isn't even your name."
The Terrarian raised his eyebrows, not that anyone could see past his visor. The Guide continued, providing answers for each of the questions that arose in his mind as if he were reading them off the tabletop.
"Of course, you can use it as a name if you like. Your name is something you can change on a whim... But Terrarian is a title… No, more like a legend. The people of this land tell tales of Terrarians to their children to keep them in line. Sometimes they're heroes. Sometimes boogeyman. In all cases, they're frighteningly powerful."
…
A long silence as The Terrarian digested this information. Was he powerful? Yes, to some degree. He had slain the creatures in the underground without much issue. He had also strengthened himself to the point where the zombies who nearly killed him a few short days ago no longer posed a threat to his person. Perhaps this trend would continue. Was this… scaling what The Guide was referring to?
The Guide once again answered the question as soon as it formulated in his brain, confirming The Terrarian's suspicions.
"In the same way you killed King Slime, you'll slay bigger things. More monstrous creatures. It's… I suppose it may be coded into your DNA. All Terrarians follow this path. You'll scale your power with your foe - equipping yourself with the weapons crafted from the remains of your last conquest. Gruesome, I know, but you don't seem too bothered by looting your kills..."
The Guide shrugged and turned to glance out the window. The expression of melancholy once again clouded his eyes as he looked at the blackened pyre in the centre of the clearing. After a moment, he pulled a small, shimmering handheld mirror from his pocket, and slid it across the table. The Terrarian gazed at it curiously.
"It's not the proudest thing I've done… but we would have burnt it otherwise. The Merchant wasn't exactly my... kill, but... I'm sure he would want us to have it. Anywa-"
*BANG*
The impact of rotting knuckles pounding against the heavy iron outer door. The Guide startled at the interruption and turned in his seat to stare at the room's entrance. Outside, the sky had already grown black and the low groaning of zombies filled the murky silence. The Terrarian made a mental note to build a retaining wall about his clearing so the nighttime plague stopped rattling his doors.
After a moment, the zombie left and The Guide continued, albeit shakily.
"The Travelling Merchant called you a Slayer. It's an appropriate name. You appeared in this world only a few days ago - and already you are much stronger than I could ever be. And..."
The Guide drew a sharp breath and glanced up at him. The change on his face was startling - as if he had been wearing a mask, and it suddenly broke off. Had The Guide suddenly lost control? He looked exceedingly nervous. His eyes were unabashedly pleading yet his voice was wrathful and cruel. He whispered, but his tone was filled with vicious determination.
"Terrarian… my family was murdered, my village was destroyed, and the ones responsible are ridiculously powerful. I need to avenge them. I must free their souls…"
"..."
"I remained by your side for one sole purpose. I need your power… even now the situation remains the same. You're my only hope. I need a Slayer."
A heavy pause as The Terrarian processed the statement. Something in him said The Guide was making a confession, and what a bold confession it was. Something like indignance began to bubble in the back of his skull. He stared at The Guide from behind his slatted visor, and clearly the intensity of his gaze was felt. The Guide finished in a small, uncharastically regretful voice.
"So… even knowing that, will you help me?"
The Guide pursed his lips and stared at the tabletop guiltily. He should feel guilty. What a tremendous thing to ask. He wasn't asking for materials. He wasn't asking for time. He was asking for much, much more. If his enemies were powerful, then they were dangerous. If they were Dangerous, then surely The Terrarian would be risking his life to battle them. Would it be the same as with the King Slime? Would he be unable to retreat the moment he laid eyes on those great foes? It was something he couldn't risk, and especially not to accomplish a goal he didn't care a single inkling about. How incredibly brash.
… Yet. Yet...
Yet his blood boiled. He wanted to become stronger. As soon as they idea formulated in his mine, he wanted it more than anything... why? He didn't know. To what end? There was no goal. It was entirely nonsensical. It was completely illogical. Yet, he was still subject to the desire. If he wanted strength, he needed to kill. And if he wished to survive this self imposed gauntlet, he needed somebody to lead him lest he find himself underprepared in a battle of life and death.
...
The Terrarian heard his armour scrape against itself as he folded his arms over his chest. He sucked air through his teeth and observed The Guide carefully through his visor. After a long moment, he loosed his voice - choosing his words slowly and with care. They echoed hollowly around his helmet before escaping into the open.
"Guide, I'm not a generous man. I offer you no promise. Your war is not mine. I will not shoulder your burden."
The words were like a blow. The Guide squeezed his eyes shut and let his arms fall limply against the kitchen table. The Terrarian continued before he could formulate any desperate protests.
"Yet I value your company. I value your knowledge. I also believe your diagnosis about me is correct. If I am to kill monsters, the path of your revenge will be the path I take. However..."
"..."
With a clack The Terrarian pulled off his helmet and sighed. He placed the platinum helm on the tabletop before him and folded his hands atop it, gazing at his flickering reflection in it's polished surface.
…A Slayer.
After a long moment, he raised his head to look The Guide in the eyes - and was reminded why he first feared him. The trembling shadows had carved deep grooves in The Guide's expression. The sparkle of hope glimmered in his eyes - yet that hope was a bloody, desperate one. Dangerous intelligence worked behind The Guide's trustworthy face - a careful, thorough understanding underlaid with extensive knowledge. What an ally he would be. What a companion to have. If The Terrarian would entrust himself to anyone, it would be this man… for he possessed everything The Terrarian lacked.
"Guide… I have a condition."
The Guide sat up, scouring him with that searching stare.
"... a condition?"
A pause as The Terrarian gathered his words.
"I want your life. Tie it to mine. If you send me to destroy a monster, be sure I am well equipped to win, for I will require you to accompany me. If I die, then you will too… I will hang my life by your knowledge. You will wager yours on my strength."
The Guide blinked at him, momentarily startled at such a proposition. His expression shifted from guarded, to confused, to searching, and finally - firm and accepting. After a long deliberation, he nodded solemnly.
"Very well, Slayer. I agree to your terms. Where you risk your life, I will likewise risk mine. As such, you've also made it my responsibility to keep you from engaging in battles you cannot win - and equipping you for those you can. That means you need to listen to me."
The Terrarian narrowed his eyes.
"...fine."
At that word, The Guide suddenly smirked, as if he'd just been given a tremendous amount of power. The cheerfulness reappeared as abruptly as it fell away. The mischievous expression was making The Terrarian nervous. How could somebody laugh whilst laying their life on the line? He was about to demand to be told what The Guide found to be so amusing when he was smacked with a laundry list of tasks for the evening.
"Great. You need Archery potions. Daybloom, Lens. Distill. Go collect lenses tonight. Swiftness and Ironskin potions as well. Daybloom, cactus - which we will collect once we reach the desert. Blinkroot and Iron ore. Distill, prepare three at least. Also fallen stars for Jester Arrows, the piercing is good for- (etc...)"
Obviously, The Guide was not only relishing the opportunity to dispense information, but also to boss him around. The Terrarian sighed and shut his eyes as he did his best to commit the extensive instruction to memory. It was going to be a long, annoying night.
Guide: (smirk)
Slayer: Wot funny
G: Just thinking about all the history lessons imma give u while we're walking to the desert
S: fuuu
Slayer kinda meathead keck.
kk finally gonna go on an adventure - but not before NPC craziness.
yeet