These guys are kinda incompetant w/o eachother lol. how sweet.I still hope to maintain my 2 ch/week, but no promises. I can't really imagine going to 1 ch/week so hopefully i can keep up the pace. I normally try to keep these guys pretty careful and cool headed, and not crazy stupid. Sometimes Slayer has baby rage tho lol.

Armour:

Victide (Ranger)

Weapon: Mandible Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis

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

Health: (400/400)

He wasn't sure what he hated more, the fact he'd innocently jumped into a pool of molten lava, or the stinging pain from the horrid burns he was nursing as a result of his ignorance. How was he supposed to know that glowing pool was hot? It was a complete anomaly to him. He'd never encountered any sort of liquid that wasn't cold. Water, potion, ale… rain? all were cool to the touch and utterly harmless. He'd expected exactly the same when he blasted his way through the bedrock and saw an inviting orange glow from below. Thinking he'd use the natural pool to break his fall, he hopped down into it only to be surprised in the worst of ways.

… tch.

It had been hot. Hotter than torches, campfires, furnaces and… and…what other hot things were there? Regardless, hotter than anything The Terrarian had yet encountered. In a few short seconds, the lava had melted through his armour and caused the skin beneath to blister and blacken in a frightfully grotesque manner. Fortunately, the pool was shallow, only submerging him to his knees before he managed to rappel away with his gem hook. If that deathtrap had been any wider or deeper, he might have expired right then and there, drowned in a viscous pool of molten stone.

Pathetic.

He sighed as he continued to peel the warped victide greaves from his legs. He was sitting a safe distance from the molten pool atop a shelf of rough, porous rocks which scratched at his wounded skin with silent malice. Glowing orange moss coated the surrounding area. It was spiny and warm to the touch. A snail kept him company, crawling its way up the blackened stone before losing its grip and falling back to the dusty floor to repeat the looping process. It was a strange thing, seemingly made of fire - yet it didn't burn… not like he had, anyways. The Terrarian gazed at the magma snail for a bit longer, before refocusing on the task at hand. His natural regeneration wouldn't take effect if his armour was melted into his wounds. He needed to dig it out. How he knew this? He wasn't sure. In fact, this whole 'swimming-in-lava' thing was making him doubt himself at every turn. How he wished he could simply ask and receive answers instead of experimenting and testing hypotheses with his own body.

… haah. The one with answers...

He had ...taken his companion for granted. As much as he was fain to admit, even he realized that the only reason he had survived so many misadventures was due to The Guide. The man - simpering worm he was - had proven himself immensely helpful wherever they went. In fact, when they stumbled upon a fresh new difficulty, The Terrarian didn't even need to ask The Guide about it. The information was always readily and eagerly provided, and a brilliant solution already devised. Had The Guide come along today, The Terrarian was absolutely certain he wouldn't be in this situation - listlessly ripping slices of armour off his knees and scrunching his nose at the smell of his own burnt flesh.

How frustrating. He had come down here after losing his temper in a fit of infantile rage, and found himself deeper underground than he had ever ventured before. He knew how to deal with the forest, The Guide had explained to him the dangers that lay there. The underground desert as well. Little surprised him, for he'd been briefed about the majority of the hazards beforehand. But now, he was alone in a new place and suffering the poignant consequences of knowing next to nothing. It was painful. It was lonely. It was frustrating. He was miserable.

But he was still mad.

He'd sooner butcher Amidas then build him a castle. Even The Guide, who was the first and only person to call him a friend - the one who had given him his name - had been affected by the Sea King. How he hated what The Guide had become. How he despised this new, wretched personality! What had The Guide said to Amidas about him? "I'm sorry your Majesty, 'My Slayer' is misbehaving," What an insult! To be spoken of as if he were a rowdy child or some mindless pet. It struck him like a blow to the gut, and he knelt on the ground, wide eyed and trembling with the weight of the offense.

What was he supposed to do in response? Simply kneel there like a good little slave and do what he was told? Certainly not. He wasn't nearly docile enough for that. He would never kneel before anyone again. From this day forth, he resolved in his heart that he would no longer bow his head nor bend his pride. Then The Guide had the gall to request he build a castle for that fish-man? (he had a murky idea he'd become a bit obsessed with this whole debacle) surely that was unforgivable.

And he stirred the scene over and over in his mind. He thought it over, became indignant, then thought it over again, inflicted another wound on his pride. Over and over and over and over. Like this, his anger brewed like some deadly concoction until every fibre of his being called for some violent, unreasonable rebellion. Violence… against townspeople? Certainly. Was it justified? That no longer mattered to him. Was he being fair? He didn't care at all. He hadn't ever felt pointed rage like this before, and he had some murky idea he shouldn't be making decisions while so emotionally charged. He had difficulty enough with a clear head and a cautious demeanor. If he did anything now, it would surely result in horrid consequences.

But he was still going do it.

Because he wanted his friend back.

He was going to murder Amidas.

… then, things will return to normal.

He reached down and seized the largest piece of armour, that misshapen hunk of red and blue victide which used to be his shin-guard, and deftly yanked it off his leg. Flesh tore from muscle with a horrid sucking noise, but it, alongside the unpleasant muted sting, was something The Terrarian had long become used to. He had already chopped into innumerable types of different creatures, and the sound of flesh rending was always the same.

His flesh. The Guide's. Amidas'. All the same. All were just as easily rent.

Now, all he needed to do was wait until his burns healed and he'd be on his way to fix everything.

"Thank you for coming, Guide."

"Of course, your Majesty. How can I help you."

The Guide was standing, leaning on the bathroom's doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and looking down at him as they spoke. Since their first encounter in the depths of the Sunken Sea, the man's behavior had gotten less reverent and more predatory. Now, although he still used honorifics when addressing The Sea King, his look and demeanor was clearly not that of a humble servant. Today, he didn't even incine his head in greeting.

How worrying. The Sea King didn't think his glow of respect would fade so quickly, but he wasn't relying on The Guide's fealty to survive. He was a King. He was used to the rigors and power-play in a royal court and was confident he'd be able to hold his own in the politics of this small compound. He still held important information that The Guide needed, which would hopefully buy him enough time to either grow a faction of his own, or to pull The Slayer to his side.

The second option was preferable. Having a Terrarian under his command was like having an army at your back. If he could just do away with the conniving Guide, drive a wedge between the two, then that army was all his.

And once The Terrarian belonged to him, he would have his revenge against The Tyrant.

He propped his chin on his clawed hand and re-adjusted his lengthy tail in the bathtub, flicking water across the floor to get The Guide's attention. He offered an understanding smile.

"Tell me, Guide, for somebody as sharp and capable as yourself ... I couldn't imagine how you tolerate so much disrespect from your Slayer. Listen, let me teach you how to handle a military..."

Guide: *looking at bloodstains on The Nurse's Kitchen Table* Uh, have you ever heard of the Hippocratic Oath?

Nurse: Hippocratic Oath? What's that to a non-human. Fuck off before he starts to think he has rights.

Slayer: o_o

Notes: 1) Hi this chapter went through edits after posting. Pertty much cut it in half sorry early viewers lol. 2) Amidas is making my politics messier than they already are ughhhh. 3) EOC soon. Once we get out of this funk, we're back on the road to kill crimson & upgrade armour. Also Goblin army soon as well. Don't worry lol, I haven't forgotten about progression. 4) Totally gonna make Slayer drop the F bomb at the worst time possible :) kids like to use the new words they've learned. 5) T would rather rip the skin off his legs himself then visit the nurse. He has some powerful pain tolerance. I pulled this from the games, because even at 1 hp, you are still just as capable as at full HP. characters clearly don't feel pain significant enough to limit them. 6) that being said, some buffs and debuffs won't work exactly like in game. don't at me.

Thanks for all you wonderful people who left me reviews! I read them all and are very happy that you took the time to drop me a note. For anyone else that's reading, I'd love to hear from you. drop me a line and say hi :)

Much love.