Desert Scoog
For those who've been reading, I'm really interested to see how you've envisioned the slayer to look like(like, his face. yall know what a knights helmet looks like lol). I intentionally left out identifying features, but always had a certain features in mind when writing him. Cuz T is supposed to just be a Player. Drop me a line and describe tkx.
Armour: Platinum
Weapon: Platinum Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(10/11): Band of Regeneration, Radar, Sailfish Boots, Round Shield, Aglet, Rover Drive, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Shackle
Health: (395/400)
Hot…
It was miserably hot, The Desert. The very air seemed to tremble and undulate, as if ready to burst into flames at any moment. Harsh sunlight beat down from the dusty sky and he could almost feel it roasting his eyeballs and slowly blistering his exposed flesh. Heavy sand spilled into his shoes with each increasingly laborious step he took through the rolling dunes. They had only been walking in the desert for an hour, but The Guide was already exhausted. His eyes were smarting and dry from the constant blast of hot wind. His skin was glowing pinkish from the sunburn. His muscles were sore and rubbery from the exertion. His throat was so parched he was afraid it'd scab up and start bleeding with each ragged breath he drew.
Urgh...
The Guide swallowed hard and squinted to glance at the empty glass water bottle strapped to his hip. He had brought three of them and filled them up at the edge of the desert, thinking they would be sufficient for their foray into the dunes. Unfortunately, he was sorely mistaken. He hadn't anticipated the arid heat to be so severe, and had drained all of his reserves in a short period of time.
I haven't seen -him- drink anything… isn't he thirsty? Maybe he has extra water...
The Guide raised his eyes to find The Terrarian marching about with an axe slung over his shoulder, enthusiastically attacking any cacti he came across. He had been crisscrossing the scenery to match The Guide's comparatively slow pace, and was now kneeling a hundred metres up a particularly steep dune, plucking the feathers off a vulture he'd just shot. Per usual, the almost-man was tireless. He didn't seem to be affected by the heat, as he didn't feel the need to remove his armor or that heavy woolen cloak draped over his shoulders. Interestingly enough, although his footsteps always sounded loud and heavy, his armoured soles barely left imprints in the sand. He skimmed over powdery dunes whilst The Guide trudged through them like they were made of molasses.
Must be nice being weightless… now that I think about it, if he were as heavy as he looks, I wouldn't have been able to carry him all that distance the first night.
His pondering did well to temporarily distract him from his current laborious situation, but eventually his thirst overrode everything else in his brain. The Guide called out to his companion over the blasting wind, hoping his voice wasn't swept away.
"Hey! Hey, Terr-" *Cough, cough*
The Terrarian seemed to hear him. He paused from his task of crushing feathers in his fist and turned his visored face to presumably look at him. Yet, seeing The Guide's miserable expression did nothing to stir him to offer any assistance. He simply returned to defacing the corpse of his latest kill while The Guide slowly struggled his way up the steep dune.
I wonder if he'll let me ride piggyback. Ugh, I bet his armour is like a thousand degrees after roasting under the sun though - I'd definitely burn myse-… whoa… wow!
As he crested the steep hill, The Guide was greeted with a tremendous sight. Even as his eyes were stung by the wind and the sun, he couldn't help but drink in the scene.
A Pyramid! An ancient city!
Before his eyes, sitting at the bottom of a great, jagged canyon, stood a great ruin which had been baking beneath the sun for, what must be hundreds of years - seemingly untouched by neither time nor intruders. The structure was composed of tremendous sandstone bricks held together by crumbling mortar. Most of it was buried in the shifting sands, but enough was exposed to indicate the size of the ruins they had stumbled upon. What treasures lay within? What dangers lurked in those dark, ancient corridors. The thought caused him to tremble in excitement.
No way… I never imagined I'd really see one...
Truth be told, The Guide had never traveled far from his village. As pathetic as it seemed, he had spent his entire life in the few square miles around his birthplace. The only time he pushed those boundaries were when he participated in hunting expeditions with the village, but still - had never laid eyes on anything particularly intriguing whilst stalking the forest.
Perhaps his adventurous spirit, finding no outlet in its limited travels, turned him to books instead. He'd been obsessed with consuming any scrap of knowledge about almost everything - including the strange and wonderful places in the land. He'd read about the frigid snowy mountains, the dangers of the sulphuric seas, the horrors of the dungeon, and the dark jungle, in which all sorts of mysterious threats lay hidden beneath the surface.
Maybe I'll see all those places one day...
He recalled the legend of the scorching desert in which long extinct civilizations used to thrive. Many aeons ago, this desert had been an ocean, but had been burnt by the wrath of the Great Witch until nothing remained of that paradise but sterile, white sand. Yet, if the Old Merchant (the one who had died and had been cremated in the clearing last evening, not his puzzling clone) was to be believed, there still lay something beneath. The 'sunken sea' where the desert ruler still resided. Would that ruler accept this medallion as a ticket to safety? Perhaps he would grant an audience in exchange for it? The Guide hadn't the foggiest clue, all he knew was that he needed to convince whatever King resided in these sands to help him eradicate the Crimson.
Hm… I wonder how to use the medallion…
"Ter-" The Guide burst into another painful fit of coughing and instinctively grabbed for the empty bottle at his side. There was the faint taste of copper welling in his throat, and he spat blood, then grimaced. Shit. It's really bleeding…
Instead of yelling, he trudged over to where The Terrarian was staring over the scenery. He cut a rather intimidating figure on the cliff's edge, but the look was ruined by the plucked vulture he was holding by it's broken neck. If The Guide's throat wasn't parched, he may have laughed. The Terrarian noticed his approach and, rather strangely, held out the naked bird, offering it to him. The Guide tweaked an eyebrow and whispered a hoarse response.
"No… no thanks. Have you got any water?"
A light pause. The Terrarian's voice once again overlay the surrounding noises.
"… for what purpose. You are not injured."
The Guide wiped the corner of his mouth and frowned. 'For what purpose?' did this guy not drink anything since arriving in the desert? Perhaps he didn't feel thirst? Now… now that The Guide thought carefully, he had seen The Terrarian neither eat nor drink anything for the past three days save the occasional healing potion.
How interesting, but the least of his worries. He just needed to wet his throat.
"... if you have water, just give it."
"..."
The Terrarian watched him for a moment longer, then appeared to shrug. He pulled a gallon-sized bucket from… nowhere, and held it out at arm's length. His iron-clad fingertips sizzled and steamed as the water licked over them, and The Guide was once again reminded that his companion was only human in appearance. However, for once, he was exceedingly glad for it. He seized the bucket and, with gusto, nigh poured it over his face - only stopping when he had succeeded in drowning his thirst.
"..."
"... Phew, thanks."
The Guide snickered at The Terrarian's startled posture and discarded the bucket to the ground. He reached up and pulled the golden medallion from about his neck to observe it. He… didn't really know how to use it, and there was no engraving with instructions. He pursed his lips and gave voice to his thoughts.
"So, according to the Merchant, this is supposed to summon the Desert Ruler. I don't really know how to use it, but- … Terrarian, are you okay?"
The Guide stopped his sentence short to frown at his companion. The Terrarian had begun to visibly tremble. His eyes seemed transfixed on the golden ingot in The Guide's grasp, and his fingers twitched intermittently as if to grasp it. After a moment, he tossed his plucked bird to the ground and summoned his bow. The Guide blinked. Is...that a threat?
He wasn't about to get skewered for a golden ingot and a pipe dream, so he hastily attempted to diffuse the situation. He waved the Desert Medallion at his companion, whose breath could be heard, harsh against his helmet.
"Whoa… whoa. Did you want this? I'll give it to you, so just calm down. Put your bow away, No need to get viole-"
"G-guide."
For the first time since they've met, The Terrarian's voice shook in excitement. He had begun downing enhancement potions, one after another - all of those the Guide had instructed him to make - and on his bowstring appeared a shimmering jester arrow. A bolt forged from the very essence of fallen stars.
"Guide… t-throw it. Throw it down."
The Terrarian jerked his chin at the canyon beneath, then turned to stare hungrily at the windswept sands. The Guide frowned and narrowed his eyes. The Terrarian was suddenly acting quite strangely. Just a moment ago, he was the same as always - cold, stoic and cautious. Yet, after seeing the Golden Medallion he seemed quite on the border of madness. The Guide countered him in a smooth, even voice - attempting to snap the almost-man out of whatever strange mental state he'd been caught in.
"What for? I don't know what you're getting all riled up about. We're merely here to talk to someone."
"Throw it."
A demand. There was a hint of a snarl behind his voice, so faint it was barely perceptible. The Guide flinched at it, then raised his hands in surrender.
"Fine, fine… I'll throw it, but you have to go pick it up. And, if a guy shows up, you had better not shoot him, understood? That's the King, and I need to talk to him."
The Terrarian sucked another sharp breath and shook his head vigorously. He was drawn, tense as a wire, and was having difficulty forming coherent words. Even from beneath is visor, The Guide could tell his teeth were gritted. Gritted in a grin, or a grimace? He'd never know.
"Not a man…a Mon...ster… I can smell it. Throw it down!"
... Monster?
What? What sort of monster would come for a gold medallion? The Terrarian wasn't one to play pranks. He also wasn't in the habit of making statements he wasn't sure were true. He must be certain there was a monster nearby if he was spending words to make this sort of proclamation, and if The Terrarian saw fit to trust him, he was going to return the gesture. Perhaps… this monster was the Sunken Sea's guardian? Was this the test to gain an audience with the Desert Ruler? Likely… but can we handle it?
The Guide held up the medallion. It glinted ominously in the sunlight, as if it contained some magical quality. He made his voice low and serious. The Terrarian's response was a guttural demand.
"Slayer… are you sure you want to fight?"
"Throw it."
The Guide sighed and nodded. It didn't look like The Terrarian was going to be convinced one way or another. Evidently he seemed to have come under some sort of compulsion, as normally The Terrarian was much more careful, and not nearly this pushy. The Guide cast his eyes over the blustery vista and wound up, poised to throw the flat gilded ingot like a frisbee.
"Alright, Slayer. Don't die on me."
"..."
With a grunt, The Guide flung the Desert Medallion off the cliff with all the strength he could muster. As it sailed through the air, the howling wind abated and went still. The ever shifting sands seemed to freeze and go quiet. The desert paused, waiting, watching for the golden ingot to touch the sand. When it finally did, The Guide could hear the soft *thump* from the top of the cliff face.
"..."
"..."
Heavy, profound silence. Not even the air dared to stir.
Then.
A great rumble from the deep. A deafening roar that sounded like the very earth was splitting in two. The wind kicked up again, becoming more violent than ever, and whipping the sand so viciously it nearly veiled the sun above. The Guide gasped and shielded his face with his hands for fear his skin would be flayed. He could already feel blood trickling down his forearms, and even drawing breath stung his throat. He threw himself to the ground, elbows and knees sinking into the soft sand. It was only then that he realized The Terrarian was no longer standing beside him.
Did he get blown away?
He hadn't. The Guide could faintly make out his Slayer's meagre silhouette standing at the bottom of the valley, poised and ready for action - driven onwards by the compulsion in his blood. There was a monster here… The Guide was sure of it. Yet, what manner of creature could it b-...
Oh… oh gods…
A roar and the sand exploded. A tremendous shape rose from the desert dunes to blot out the sun. A great worm covered in vicious snaggled teeth. Even through the roaring sandstorm, The Guide could make out the rattling it's husk as it reared its tremendous head from beneath the frenzied sand. It rose into the air like a gigantic monolith and released a screeching roar, shaking the very foundations of the desert.
Shit!
It bulk filled his vision.
It's deafening roar filled him with terror.
This… was no Desert Ruler.
This was the Desert Scourge.
She was glad for the rain, it would wash off any tracks she left as she wound her path. Heavy droplets pounded down, loud against the gray raincoat she had procured in her flight. The mud sucked at her heels, and her medical equipment was heavy in her arms. She wasn't foolish enough to run without them. After all, even after she escaped, she still needed to make a living - lest she join the march of starving beggars which seemed to grow ever more numerous in this ravaged land.
Damn… that damn fucking mage, and his damn fucking moon obsession...
As Head Nurse of the Medical Institute, she was very likely the best non-magical medical professional in the land… and that meant the The King's men would soon come looking for her. She never kept her finger on politics, but she was certain King Yharim must have had a falling out with his current head mage - who was responsible for the King's personal health. Only a week ago, rumors began to spread through The Capital Hospital - her hospital - that their department would be promoted to serve the King directly.
A tremendous opportunity to be sure. Serving the King came with some dangers, but the benefits greatly outweighed them. Many of her colleagues were comfortable with the idea, even looking forward to the luxuries the palace brought, but she knew she had to refuse.
That Damn fucking Tyrant bitch! Fuck!
And The Nurse knew refusal to serve meant treason.
And treason meant death.
And so… she fled east.
Slayer: Guide, tell me this...
Guide: wat
S: U were there when I was born, right?
G: uh... kinda? yeah I guess so.
S: Are you my fath-
G: Nooooo, don't ever say anything like that again.
S: :v
Nurse is a pottymouth lmao.
Less buildup now, More moving forward. bout time right? it's been 22 chapters and we're only on the second boss. smh