Everyone is having depressive crises at the same time
Cnidarian - Calamity Mod underground Desert miniboss.
Armour: Victide (Ranger)
Weapon: Barinade (Fire Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Radar, Sailfish Boots, Round Shield, Aglet, Rover Drive, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Aero Stone, Shield of the Ocean
Health: (400/400)
Their footsteps echoed loudly in the dingy, narrow corridors. With each step they took, billows of dust puffed up from the ground as if nobody had walked these halls for centuries. The darkness was almost palpable, seeming to absorb the paltry light which The Terrarian carried ahead of them.
Who knew the underground desert would be so cold...
The earth which enclosed them on all sides was quietly watching them, much unlike the mindless heat and noise of the raging sandstorm above. The Guide was unsure which he disliked more - the blasting, disorienting chaos of the shifting sands, or the dark silence of this jagged underground tomb, but after the third time stubbing his toe on the uneven sandstone bricked flooring he gave vent to his frustrations.
"Gah!... Why couldn't they build these floors smooth!? I thought tomb raiding would be so much more glamorous!"
"..."
Per usual, The Terrarian didn't respond, not that The Guide expected him to. Ever since getting his guts stuffed back in by The Nurse last night, the almost-man had hardly uttered a word. Was he traumatized by the medical procedure? Because The Guide sure was. Even if The Terrarian had some sort of monster pain tolerance, the way he twitched and groaned while that diabolical woman scrambled his insides - then stitched him up like he was a patchwork teddy bear - was enough to make The Guide lose sleep. He dearly wished he hadn't remained in the kitchen to watch, but alas his gruesome fascination with gory things kept him there.
Bleah… so nasty...
But no matter how violent the 'healing' process had been, it appeared The Terrarian had recuperated entirely from The Desert Scourge battle by this morning. His walk was no longer a painful, bleeding stumble, but had regained its strange weightless gait. The various cuts and perforations he'd suffered were likewise nowhere to be seen. Even though his recovery was completely expected, it was still an astonishing miracle. A miracle that The Nurse was quick to take credit for. She seemed to enjoy the process of invasive surgery so much, The Guide silently prayed he was never injured in any meaningful way - lest he wake with somebody else's brain rattling about in his skull.
That Nurse… she was just looking for reasons to cut into him… man, I completely forgot about my arrowhead until she went for it...
And so, the following morning, The Guide wasn't surprised when he was shaken awake at the crack of dawn and nigh pushed out of his front door. The Terrarian was so eager to get going he had packed provisions and cooked breakfast in his haste to expedite their escape from the compound. The Nurse had woken just as they were about to leave, and upon seeing her yawning out her bedroom window - The Terrarian panicked, picked him up bodily, and sprinted them both fifteen miles until they reached the edge of the desert. The Guide thought the entire ordeal was terrifically funny, and told his companion just that.
I've seen a knight's helmet pout, hehe...
Henceforth, The Terrarian didn't speak a single word to him - but The Guide perceived he wasn't as miffed as he was making out to be. In fact, judging by the way he kept admiring his new Victide bracers, (part of the new set of armour The Guide had helped him craft last night) The Guide guessed he was rather glad to be out and about, flaunting his rather gaudy red-and-blue outfit and terribly mismatched cloak to the birds and the hares.
A bit of a fashion disaster, really.
In any case, he was more or less happy. That was good, because The Guide knew The Terrarian wouldn't listen to anyone while pissed off. The almost-man had already proven himself cripplingly stubborn - and if The Guide was going to put him to work blasting holes into the desert caverns until they found The Sunken Sea - it was best to catch him in a pleasant mood.
Hopefully The Sunken Sea 'king' can tell me about how to stop the Crimson… urg...
As that fleshly hellscape burst upon his mind's eye, The Guide sighed. His cheery demeanor abruptly broke in favor of the depressive state that constantly bordered on the edge of his consciousness. There was little time to play around. No time for sightseeing. No time for treasure hunting. Even though he was walking through the halls of a literal pyramid - ripe for the looting - he felt as if he needed to run down to the Sunken Sea as quickly as his feet would carry him. With every passing moment, The Crimson spread, consuming the good land and expanding its power. The Guide wasn't sure the inner workings of that great and terrible eldritch infection, but he was certain that so long as it flourished, his loved ones would suffer in its hellish grip.
Am I really up for this… The entire Dryad race tried and failed to fight The Crimson. What am I, a single man, supposed to do?
The Guide gritted his teeth and shook his head violently. No. Failure wasn't an option. He couldn't give up. He needed to move forward even where there was no clear path in sight. The Sea King, The Guide had pinned his hopes on that mysterious entity - yet there was no guarantee he would extend any help. In fact, it was possible The Sunken Sea's ruler didn't have the knowledge The Guide was looking for. What if he'd never heard of The Crimson at all? It wasn't out of the question, after all, even in legends of old, the ocean kingdom didn't concern themselves with their land-dwelling neighbors. Still… I can't give up. I need to do this.
"...!"
He sighed and continued walking, his heels making muffled beats against the sandstone brick until suddenly - the bricks ended. He felt his stomach shoot straight up into his throat as he started on the very beginnings of freefall. Luckily, a cold, armored hand grasped him tightly on the arm and wrenched him backwards before he plunged to what very well might have been his untimely death.
"Ah! Whoa… t-thanks."
The Guide panted and gulped air as the adrenaline slowly siphoned from his bloodstream. Once he had composed himself, he looked down into the cavern which dropped abruptly at the passage's end. The darkness was so thick, that nothing could be seen above or below. The only noise that rang out was the slow echoing of their breath against the sandstone walls. Yet, although there was no sign of life, The Guide still felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as if he were being watched.
Stop it… you're scaring yourself…
The Guide patted The Terrarian's shoulder plating in a shaky gesture of gratitude - a gesture that wasn't responded to. Even so, although The Terrarian provided few words of comfort, his actions made it clear to The Guide that he wasn't alone on this mission. He had an accomplice watching his back. Even if the Dryads couldn't defeat The Crimson, The Terrarian might be able to. There was no need to fall into despair. The Guide glanced over to his companion and observed him for a long moment.
Yeah… he, he can do it. My hope is standing right here…
Invigorated with new resolve, The Guide tapped his companion's armour again, and whispered into the darkness.
"Hey, Slayer did you see anything move down there?"
"...Nothing lives, yet smells of death."
The Terrarian responded promptly. His voice flat, bored, and unintentionally loud as it echoed in the chamber. The Guide hushed him before silently requesting custody of the torch. He wasn't sure how The Terrarian was 'smelling' death, Crimson, monsters or anything else, but thus far that sense had yet to fail them. If there was nothing alive here, it was unlikely they had reached the antlion infested caverns. They had most probably arrived at the pyramid's burial chamber.
Treasure! There's gotta be treasure here… but why does it smell like death?
The Guide deliberated, then pursed his lips and tossed the torch into the abyss. Whether this was a burial chamber, an antlion nest, or the pits of hell itself didn't much matter. The goal of their mission was to reach the Sunken Sea and collect information on The Crimson. The Guide just needed to find the best way to descend from here. Treasure sounded fun, but they could come back for it some other time.
A mummy maybe? Or walking skeletons guarding the grave… those make noise though, and I haven't heard anything since we've arrived.
The Guide watched as the torch plunged through the inky darkness where it briefly illuminated all manner of sparkling riches. Intricately cast precious metals flashed in the firelight. Finely set jewels shimmered - as if attempting to dazzle after languishing in darkness for so long. The Guide chose to ignore them - solely searching for evidence of tripwires, pressure plates, and the like. Eventually the torch hit the bottom with an audible *clack*. It appeared the area was free of traps… but-
What's that?!
There was… something there, at the bottom of the chamber. The torch had fallen beside a gilded chest stuffed with scrolls and trinkets. Wrapped about that chest was some sort of creature - or perhaps the remains of one. A great ugly lump, serpentine and covered in all manner of jagged aquatic spines. From what The Guide could see, it looked to be a dried out husk, reminiscent of the Desert Scourge, but much smaller and about the size of a large horse. Was it alive? Likely not in the traditional sense. No creature could survive hundreds, if not thousands, of years in this sealed chamber… yet, The Guide felt that thing watching him.
It's guarding the chest… If we go down there, it will certainly kill us…
"Slayer."
He didn't take his eyes off the creature when he gave the order. Even in the darkness, he knew The Terrarian had already summoned his weapons in preparation for battle. Nothing needed to be said out loud. All he needed to give was an indication to begin, and that insane battle spirit would once again possess his companion to butcher whatever stood before them.
"If you would..."
The Guide turned to meet the gaze behind the visor, then gave a subtle nod in the direction of the creature. He didn't feel powerful when The Terrarian sprang down into the darkness to kill on his command, but neither did he feel he was overstepping his bounds. This is what The Terrarian had brought him here for… to plot their path forward. To play strategist in this game of monsters and legends. To choose all their steps, then sit back and pray he had made the right decision.
And it seemed he had.
He'd been drooling. He didn't remember drooling before.
It was sticky and disgusting, and something told him it was 'bad' to want something quite so desperately. Something told him he should be 'ashamed' of it. To cringe and hide it from others.
...
He was glad The Guide had taken the torch and tossed it away - otherwise the light might have revealed just how terribly excited The Terrarian had been to engage in battle. The moment he saw that mummified creature, he was filled with craven bloodlust, only barely containing himself as he clung to his bow and gasped, doing his best not to simply hurl himself at the monster below. It was dangerous! He knew this. He was pretty certain he wasn't suicidal, and was absolutely certain he wasn't a masochist (his encounter with The Nurse assured him of this). Fighting normal monsters didn't drive him to the brink of insanity. No… Only those which posed serious risk to him. How incredibly stupid! What a crippling disability! Yet…
*shunk*...*shunk*...*shunk*...
Watching the shining bolts fly from his bowstring to slice into that strange, spiny husk. Seeing the bits and pieces fall off the creatures and it staggered and howled… it was nearly euphoric. It lit his nerves on fire, and he felt his cheeks stretching in what was most certainly some horrid expression. Did The Guide know about this? Would he find it abhorrent? Maybe, but he wasn't a human. Why was he being plagued with questions of morality?
...
These were thoughts for another time. Below, the dried out beast continued to shoot streams of high pressure water to defend itself - and supposably it's treasure - but none of them managed to hit him. His compulsion didn't demand he charge wildly at his enemies. He was allowed to battle intelligently, so long as in the end, he saw blood.
*splat*...*splat*
It was dying. It hadn't managed to touch him, but he had already slain it. As the creature writhed in its death throes, The Terrarian slowly rappelled down from the ceiling, waiting for it to expire. The torchlight was dim and the body was still thrashing, but some inner sense told him the creature was no longer a threat. He could have just fired a couple of bolts into its skull to finish it off, but he... wanted to watch it die...
ugh...
Was… was he getting worse? Had he always been so cruel? Cruel... what did that mean? He had been born into this world with a tremendous vocabulary, but no real understanding of many things. Was he cruel? Was it bad to be cruel? Should he even be concerned with 'good' and 'evil'? Who judged these things?
"Hoi! Slayer, can you help me down? I can't see a thing."
He flinched as his inner dialogue was interrupted. The Guide was waving wildly at him from the darkness of the corridor and requesting assistance. Clearly, he was eager to proceed. He had debriefed The Terrarian earlier about the urgency of reaching the Sunken Sea as quickly as possible in order to save his family? The Terrarian was fairly certain they had already died, but didn't care enough to pry and get the details.
"..."
The Terrarian hung there, suspended by his hook, and regarded The Guide silently. His goal was to 'save' his family. That was a 'good' thing. That was a 'noble' thing. Did that make The Guide good and noble? Was a person defined by his goal? If so, what of him? His Goal was merely to grow stronger for… for no reason whatsoever. What did that make him?
His brain supplied the word: 'Pathetic'
"Hey? Hello?"
How depressing. The Terrarian sighed and disappeared his bow to summon a torch to his free hand. He tossed it toward The Guide, who clumsily caught it. The man looked a bit annoyed, perhaps he wanted to be carried down to the chamber floor, but The Terrarian was too engrossed with watching the beast draw it's last shuddering breath to help his companion any further. If he was going to be pathetic, he might as well enjoy it.
But he shouldn't have indulged his compulsion.
Because The Guide had already begun climbing down the steep chamber walls. He was digging his fingers and the tips of his boots into the grooves between crumbling brick sandstones, plotting his way with the light emanating from the torch he gripped in his teeth. The Terrarian saw the disaster before it occurred, but his exclamation never reached The Guide's ears. A brick slipped out of place. A foothold came loose.
A sharp cry, quickly silenced by a dull thud.
And for the first time… The Terrarian truly knew the meaning of 'dread'.
Slayer: Guide, how are infants summoned to this world.
Guide:...y-you're asking -me- where babies come from?!
S: yes.
G: uh... dammit man, sometimes I forget you're only a week old... go, go ask the nurse
Nurse: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
More Nurse Shenanigans next chapter. I think I have a few NPCs who need to show up but still debating what sort of screentime imma give them.
T needs some huggies :/