Nurse snarks at people. Merchant plots. Arms Dealer thinks he's a ladykiller. Guide loses his mind. Slayer fails Masterchef

Armour: Victide (Ranger)

Weapon: Mandible Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis

Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Amidas Spark, Sailfish Boots, Luxor's Gift, Aglet, Rover Drive, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Aero Stone, Shield of the Ocean

Health: (350/400)

He yawned loudly as he walked from under the spacious outdoor pavilion. His worn leather soles clicked against the masterfully paved red brick patio as he made a beeline for the row of houses. All about the clearing, lightning bugs floated about idyllically. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. It was quiet, peaceful… beautiful...

Artificial.

Fake. That's exactly what it was. Everything felt artificial here. Plasticky. Unnatural. Too perfect for reality. Not a blade of grass was out of place. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere in sight. The sky was already dark, but the compound was lighted with completely identical iron wrought lamps, placed equidistantly about the wall's perimeter. The Wall too, composed of sturdy, double layered gray brick - cut to perfect right angles and mortared together so evenly, one couldn't distinguish one area of the wall from another. The gates had been closed shut for the evening, and if The Arms Dealer listened carefully, he could make out the zombies scrabbling and pounding at the door. That gate had no lock. No bolt to ensure it even remained shut, yet although any one of them could easily push it open - it didn't even tremble as The undead horde hurled themselves at it.

This place is definitely really suspicious…

During dinner, The Old Merchant had told him this compound was built by magic - something The Arms Dealer was quite willing to believe after examining the area. An evil magician (who called himself 'Guide' to hide his identity) was using this place to collect all manner of diverse people to use as experimental subjects. He was currently on a long journey with his wicked Monster Knight, but once they returned, The Merchant would enact his plan to free them all from this prison. The only thing he lacked was firepower, and after listening to the Kindly Old Man's plea for help, The Dealer had whipped himself into a frenzy and eagerly volunteered to participate in the operation. He had never fought for justice before. He mostly sought after profit. But now that he had a new lease on life, perhaps it was high time he turned over a new leaf. He'd use his skills to help the weak, to free the captives, to slay monsters and uphold justice.

I need to step up to the plate! I need to be a hero...

He did have the necessary skills, after all. He was a tough-as-nails fighter, a gun runner, an amazing gunsmith, and an expert shooter as well. He also liked his freedom. He had spent two long years locked in a prison, and knew how precious freedom was. He would certainly help these poor captives escape the clutches of the wicked sorcerer.

I just escaped a Resistance Jail… I'll definitely break out of this one too and free everyone! Watch out Monster Knight! The Dealer is coming for you!

He made a fist and stared at it in dramatic fashion. It truly was a blessing he didn't know how silly he looked, gesticulating in the dark as he monologued. It always caused bystanders to give him strange looks, but The Arms Dealer was convinced it was part of his charm. He was charming, of course. The ladies loved him. All of them loved him. The Dealer cleared his throat and raised his fist to knock on House #3 and introduce himself to the lady within. He'd been instructed to do so, but likely would've been here even without The Old Man's suggestion. After all, he was feeling lonely, and although The Merchant was entertaining to talk to- he lacked the… ehem, femenine appeal The Arms Dealer sought after.

*Knock-knock*

"..."

*Creeak*

The door opened and he was greeted by one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. Well, actually, she was probably the only woman he'd seen since he was arrested, and he couldn't really remember the names and faces of his previous lovers - but regardless, he found her to be amazingly attractive. She was a petite woman with a pair of tremendous assets bursting out of her white blazer and a sour expression on her face. She wore striking cherry red lipstick and had particularly fierce eyebrows decorating her forehead. The moment she laid eyes on him, she exclaimed:

"Now that's amazing!"

At that, The Arms Dealer smiled charmingly, dramatically flipped his hair, and leaned over her, propping an elbow against her doorpost. He had, quite embarrassingly, failed to detect the sarcastic sneer in her voice. Looking back on the incident, The Arms Dealer would attribute his bullheadedness to being drunk. The Ale Kegs here simply didn't run dry, and The Dealer hadn't had a drop of liquor for his entire prison stay. His tolerance just wasn't what it used to be.

The lady snickered cruelly. She appeared amused, and curled her lip into a sneer.

"Fucking amazing! Not only do you smell like a sewer rat, you look like one too! You must think you're hot shit if you'd come to me without washing yourself you little bitch! Have you any idea who I am?"

The Arms Dealer froze - his grin faltering as he blinked down at the fiery woman. She clacked up to him and jabbed a fingernail into his chest to enunciate each of her words. This woman… she wasn't swooning for him. Was she picking a fight? She didn't seem to care that he was carrying an entire garrison's worth of firearms beneath his coat. She likewise failed to recognize that The Arms Dealer was nearly twice her weight and four times as strong. It didn't matter to her. She was fully assured of her victory.

...who the-

She sized herself up (she was a full head shorter than him, and needed to crane her neck to look him in the eye) and planted her hands on her hips.

"People save up for years to get a single fucking consultation with me. The least you can do is to smell better than you look! Out Mister Rat! Shoo!"

The Arms Dealer stuttered, incredulous. He wasn't a particularly vain man, nor was he offended - just surprised. He knew he was good looking. Back before he'd been arrested, wherever he went, he had women climbing over each other to get at him. 'The local heartthrob' they called him - a nickname he liked. 'Himbo Supreme' they giggled. He didn't like that one nearly as much.

But, Mister Rat?

He was stunned. Stunned to the point where the small blonde woman - who was much stronger than she looked, was able to spin him around and push him clear of her doormat. She had no qualms about getting handsy, and - with a cool, professional disdain - lashed him with a few parting comments about body odour before slamming the door. The Arms Dealer had been so used to having women fawn over him, he didn't even remember how to act when somebody wasn't being accommodating. It was… a strange feeling, but somehow, real and refreshing. He looked over his shoulder to stare at the brick facade of House #3, not knowing what sort of expression he wore.

Whoa… wow… she's-

Suddenly, the woman's face appeared in the window. Her expression was stern, yet her cheeks were coloured. She threw the glass panel open and stuck her (sizable) upper body out to point at the house next door.

"Go take a fucking shower then get back here. I saw that nasty cut on your ankle - which you completely failed to treat by the way, and I'm telling you it smells of tetanus. Yes, I'm a medical professional, The Nurse is what you'll call me. You may introduce yourself once you no longer smell like a garbage heap. I haven't worked for free in ten years, so hurry up before I change my mind."

*bang*

The window closed shut and The Nurse disappeared from his sight.

The Arms Dealer stared blankly at the window. After a long moment, his vacant expression became a grin. Excited, he hurried toward his new residence to wash up. What an incredibly interesting neighbor he had. She… wasn't like anyone he'd ever met before. Who was she? Where had she come from? The Arms Dealer wasn't sure why he was smiling, nor why he was obeying her instructions so eagerly. All he knew was he needed to wash up as quickly as possible so he could go spend some time with The Nurse.

He was in a bad mood.

A downright awful mood.

For some reason, reading that stupid scroll threw him so far out of alignment he wanted to scream his head off and punch his knuckles bloody on the rough hewn sandstone. Had he gone mad? Was this what it felt like to go insane? He had tried crying, but it didn't make him feel any better. He'd yelled expletives at the wall for a bit, but that didn't do it for him either. He was seriously considering challenging The Terrarian to a fistfight, when the man in question crawled up into the burial chamber with a twenty foot long desert worm gnawing on his leg.

How that guy manages a straight face while he's getting eaten alive is beyond me.

Of course, he helped. Even if his head wasn't screwed on right, he still knew who his friends were. He faintly remembered seizing some golden scepter from amongst the treasure trove and going absolutely ballistic on the creature. He bludgeoned that thing until it was long dead and he was exhausted. Only then did the maddening itch in his brain begin to subside and he was able to calm down.

Phew…

Of course, The Terrarrian thought he'd gone completely insane. He had given The Guide a wide berth as he sorted his inventory, looted the valuables from the burial chamber, and waited for the holes in his leg to heal. He didn't attempt to speak to The Guide, and for once, his silence was appreciated. The Guide was altogether consumed with trying to decipher the connection between himself and the entities described in that scroll.

Why did I have such a bodily reaction to those final words? Who, or what is 'The Wall'?

According to the information written on the old parchment, The Dreaming god had been torn asunder and divided into several monstrous components. The Roaming Eye, The Crimson Brain, The Intestinal Perforators. These three caused him substantial mental anguish, as they were the ghastly prisons where his loved ones languished this very moment. Yet, 'The Wall' was... different. Learning of The Wall had nearly killed him.

It still aches...

He shivered and rubbed his sternum. He cast his mind back to when he first read the words off the ancient parchment. His bones had trembled, rattling against each other. His fucking heart nearly exploded. He thought he was going to die right then and there. Something like that didn't happen by coincidence. Absolutely not. It wasn't his imagination either, it hurt far too much. The Guide was young and healthy. Not prone to seizures, unexplained aches and pains, and definitely not heart attacks.

This… this is ridiculous… what happened back there?

The Guide took a deep breath, ground his teeth and cast the thoughts from his head. The more he mulled over these things, the more confused he got. If he persisted, he would gain nothing but a worsening migraine. Right now, he simply didn't have enough facts to piece together the puzzle. The Sea King could help him with that. He needed to find Amidas.

I hope The Slayer found the Sunken Sea…and I hope the King is still there...-Tch!

He exclaimed and cursed himself as he nearly twisted his ankle on a jagged stone. The path The Terrarian had cleared through the underground cave systems was a hard one, littered with crumbling rock, infested with horrible creatures, and so dusty he swore his lungs were already coloured a sandy tan. He snagged hold of The Terrarian's cloak to balance himself, before swatting a spiny cholla cactus off his pant leg. He wasn't in a great state of mind. He had just had an encounter with an eldritch god, then he had stabbed a giant worm to death, now he was descending through a narrow shaft rife with danger… And, on top of it all, he was starving.

I can't believe he thought people could eat hay...

The Terrarian, who had packed provisions this morning, had somehow gotten it into his head that 'organic' meant 'edible', and failed to bring anything remotely palatable on this trip. He had attempted to rectify this mistake by presenting The Guide with the local cuisine. Namely: several Antlion Corpses, (No) A fistful of squirming worms, (also, no) some poisonous mushrooms (are you trying to kill me?) and a thousand pieces of spiny cactus (this isn't funny, Slayer). Eventually, The Terrarian shrugged, accused The Guide of being difficult, and began leading the way down into the bowels of the earth.

Sometimes he's so capable… and other times he acts like this...

The Guide followed unenthusiastically, doing his best to focus on the treacherous footing and ignore the rumbling in his belly. He had a goal to fulfill: To receive answers from the Sea King. He could tolerate a couple of hours of hunger pangs for that - right? After all, his family was certainly suffering far more than he was. This is the least I can do.

He set his eyes forward, hardened his resolve, and continued deep into the bowels of the earth.

Slayer: Guide, your age.

Guide: Huh? um, I'm 26.

S: Five times older than me.

G: uh... more than five, actually.

S:...

G: a -lot- more than five.

Notes: 1) T weighs like 30 lbs (13kg). How else do you expect him to fly later on? 2) Think he's 5 days old atm? If Guide is 26 yrs- that's like 9500 days. Guide is just shy of 2000x older. 3) Merchant is an important character. Pay attention to the commands he's giving to those in his faction. 4) Demolitionist & Crabulon soon. 5) I decided that Slayer got a dictionary downloaded into his brain when he first appeared in the world. It's kind of an outdated dictionary that doesn't include slang. 'edible's entry just says suitable to be eaten, lol. 6) Arms Dealer is actually a really good guy with a rough background. He's also absolutely shredded (heart) - no wonder Nurse has a soft spot for him lol.

Aight, thanks all for your reviews! much love.

Also I freaking beat Supreme Calamitas in Death Mode on my Ranger run. I started a new character to follow this Fic - so I can get all the armour and accessories right.

Photoviscerator is too op lol.