Eyo! Heating stuff up. Still slowish but eh. bear with me.
I'm really excited to get T back into this mix. I kind of miss my poor little homicidal baby.
It wasn't until his home had been thoroughly wrecked that The Guide truly appreciated the luxury he had so quickly grown used to. For the majority of his twenty-six earthly years, he was quite happy to reside in drafty, rural farming hovels (as that was what The Destroyed Village mostly consisted of) and had never once bemoaned the lack of indoor plumbing or hot, running water - until now, that is. In some ways, his standard of living had dramatically risen since meeting The Terrarian, however the price for such luxury was so dreadfully heavy, The Guide wouldn't even subject his worst enemy to such an ordeal.
Except for that Vulture-Headed mage... he can die.
What a terrible trial he had undergone, what misery he had toiled under... but for some reason, he couldn't help but feel the end was near. How unlike him to simply have gut feelings. He had always been logical and scientific, still - he was completely convinced of something based on no evidence at all. As much as he distrusted it, he simply couldn't deny that sentiment within him. There must be a light at the end of the tunnel, and with every step he took, with every day that passed he must be growing closer to it. The Guide didn't know what that 'end' would look like. He wasn't sure whether it would be an occasion for joy, or an occasion for sorrow. All he knew was that it loomed just over the horizon and would soon crash upon him.
Soon I'll be out of this mess... soon.
The Spy would soon come out. The Slayer would soon return. The Crimson would soon arrive. Everything was convening, and when these poignant forces clashed, what would happen to him? Perhaps he would come through a new man with a strengthened conviction. Perhaps he would crawl out, broken and disgusted with everything he laid eyes on. Only time would tell... and although he realized these events were completely outside of his control - The Guide found that his enemies were slowly but surely falling before him.
Amidas is gone. The Demolitionist... is he dead?... I-
The Guide felt a shiver go through him but suppressed a more visceral reaction. Today, he had attacked a man for the first time in his life. No, of course he'd gotten into fights before. He'd gotten into tussling matches with his friends over stupid things. He'd even hit his sister once - and she being older (and stronger at the time) had broken his arm in response, but never had he attacked anyone with a calculated intention to kill... until now.
If... if he dies, what does that make me?
Was it the right thing to do? Absolutely. There was no question that The Demolitionist was threatening his life. The Dwarf was literally holding a gun to his head, and The Guide knew that his violent response was justified by every law in the land. It was absolutely in his right to kill his torturer and would-be murderer... and stabbing the dwarf - seeing his face twist in shock and pain, it didn't even leave a bad taste in his mouth. Despite it all, in that moment, The Guide felt he had crossed some sort of threshold. He had done something he couldn't take back, and he dearly wished none of this was necessary to begin with. Was he overwhelmed with guilt? No, but did that change anything? In fact, whether The Demolitionist actually died or not was inconsequential. From the moment that murderous resolve formed itself in his mind - The Guide knew he had done something irreversible.
... Isn't this what you wanted?
He'd lectured himself on this ad nauseum. He'd repeated it to himself over and over in an effort to settle his heart. He, the gentle and sensitive man he was - could never accomplish the great things he'd set out to do without becoming hardened, right? Didn't he say just this? That he must become ruthless to crush his ruthless enemies? That he would become abominable to face the abominations? Why look back!? Would he rather die? No, for what were morals to the dead? Had he not attacked, he'd now be rotting in the ground. Had he not attacked, those he loved would suffer forevermore in the roiling Crimson Monstrosity with no hope of respite. Perhaps he too would have been consumed by That Wall which plagued his sleep, and whilst he broiled in agony - The Vulture-headed mage would sleep soundly - peacefully knowing those seeking to avenge themselves upon him were safely locked away in the grave.
...
His attempt at self encouragement wasn't effective. Despite his efforts, he remained uneasy, his spirits troubled. The Guide sighed and rested his cheek in his uninjured hand. He could still feel the chisel's rough-hewn iron edges heavy in his palm, but did his best to forget the incident. This wasn't the time for sentimentalism. He must carefully consider his next move. In some ways, he was in a position of power. The Slayer belonged to him, and that man would surely visit a fury on those who had dared to wrong him. He was likewise apparently Yharim's 'Lab Director' and thereby had leverage over this Spy character.
… come on… Where are you…
However, the faraway hope did nothing to stave off the very present dangers. Although the enemy faction's power had clearly waned, they still posed a significant threat to him. With The Demolitionist injured or dying (The Guide was sure The Dwarf hadn't already died. If he had, The Guide's ruined home might already be under siege) there was one less person The Guide needed to worry about. However the remaining members of the group could easily overwhelm him if they wished to do so. By some miserable stroke of luck, the pistol he had snatched up from the ground contained only a single bullet. It wasn't good for anything ... except perhaps to off himself should things become too desperate.
Ridiculous. I'll never kill myself. It won't be much longer. I need to see this through.
With a deep breath, The Guide sat up straight and pulled back his stiff shoulders. He could feel his spine popping with a slight discomfort, but once the tightness faded, he felt -at least partways- refreshed. Raising his eyes to the dusty window, he found that the gray daytime light had grown even darker than usual - yet his clock indicated it was still early afternoon. The Crimson was quite nearly upon them - but such a thing was an inevitability.
Surely... The Slayer has -got- to be faster than The Crimson... I can't believe he's not here yet...
Yet although The Guide knew this would happen, it didn't mean he could endure it any better. He had only lived in this 'half-crimson' land for a bit over a week, but it felt like an eternity since he'd felt the sweet gentle breeze on his cheeks. How long had it been since he had basked in the sun's warm rays? Since he'd heard the twittering of birds and creatures in the undergrowth? Hell, the stink of rotting flesh was so permanent, that The Guide doubted if he'd ever be able to wash away the stench.
I know The Terrarian is quite sensitive to smells. I hope he's not too mad at me for dumping him in The Crimson… but the village isn't that far away from here... what could be taking him so long?
Had… had The Slayer gotten into trouble? Impossible. The Guide had seen him slaughter too many monsters to worry about his health. There was no way he could've been seriously maimed in any way... surely not. He could recover from almost anything given enough time. Sure, The Guide had seen his leg get blasted of... but... No. The Slayer had most probably gotten lost, or… or perhaps he just… left?
He wouldn't. No way… you wouldn't leave me here, right, buddy?
The thought caused a chill to go down his spine. No. Although their last conversation hadn't established any love between them, The Terrarian had declared he'd remain -at least temporarily- loyal to those he deemed useful. He had likewise identified The Guide as an 'exceedingly useful person'. Surely he'd be back. He'd come and kill the dissenters in The Compound, then kill The Crimson derivatives, then the Vulture-headed mage…
Yeah, once The Slayer comes back, everything will be alright…
The Guide pressed his lips together and after a moment, he stood with a grunt to stride across his bedroom. The place was a disaster, everything was strewn about everywhere - and (naturally) not by his doing. The Guide was always painfully organized. He had a system for things and just the very sight of his belongings in a heap was enough to drive him halfway up the wall. However, he had his reasons to leave things as they were. There were clear signs of vandalism as somebody searched through his belongings (most likely The Demolitionist hoping to finding his imperially issued 'communications equipment').
Ridiculous... he tortured me for a passcode without any evidence I was Yharim's agent to begin with... Now, he'd dying with a nail in his gut.
Yet despite the many things The Guide found missing, by some stroke of luck - those precious objects Amidas had supplied unto him remained in his possession. Two schematics - one for a 'Bloody spine', the other a detailed drawing of a 'Perforator Cyst' - and the deadly looking healing rune. He placed them, alongside a half-filled bottle of distilled healing potion on top of his dresser. Everything was set. He raised his head and looked at himself in the mirror. He winced, then offered himself a wry smile.
Phew… I look like genuine hell.
He looked absolutely wrecked, with bruises and cuts marring a great deal of his exposed skin. He had a darkening black eye - which thankfully hadn't swollen shut - several painful looking cuts along his temple (he'd gotten pistol whipped not long ago) and his hands - predictably - were a mess. In fact, his left hand was truly worrisome. The Guide feared he might've lost use of the last three fingers entirely, but that was a problem for later. Right now, he was concerned with appearances.
… damn, that dwarf punched a hole straight through me. I wish it didn't hurt as bad as it looks.
He'd sustained a number of other injuries as well, but since they were to be hidden beneath clothing, The Guide had opted to treat them with the abundance of equipment (healing potions) The Slayer had stored in his bedroom. There was still a deep, persistent ache in his ribcage, but all outward evidence of injury had been wiped away. This too was by design. After all, if he were completely useless, he might make himself odious to his visitor.
*Tap… tap… tap*
For The Guide, looking as pathetic and downtrodden as he did, was expecting a very helpful guest. When he heard the echo of cautious, unfamiliar footsteps in the hallway, he composed himself, cracked open the healing potion, and stared forlornly at the table top - listening carefully.
*Tap...tap…ta- creeeak.*
There was a slight shuffle then a pause in footsteps as somebody entered the room behind him. A moment of hesitance, then a gentle rapping at the doorframe. A shy girlish voice spoke into the room. It was the tone of somebody addressing their superior.
"Sir?"
He didn't turn and neither did he raise his eyes to look at her reflection in the mirror. He knew she was carefully observing him, and raised his badly mangled hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. She saw that too. Her voice grew more urgent.
"Sir! CC Agent #5534 Reporting for duty!"
"CC?..." The test started now. It was time for him - the gentle town bookworm - to walk in the shoes of Yharim's elite agents. Should he fail, his life was forfeit - but he would not fail. With a mock sigh, The Guide brought to memory every scrap of information The Demolitionist let slip whilst pulling out his fingernails and turned to The Spy. He stared blandly at her.
"Took you long enough. I was beginning to fear Draedon's forgotten about me."
"Oh... dammit."
The Arms Dealer twisted his nose and turned away from the poor old man's corpse. He exhaled hard out of his nose and raised his shotgun to high-ready, searching the room carefully for any threats.
Nothing.
It was silent. The room was still and dead. Whatever had killed The Merchant was no longer here and he was free to observe the damage. At his feet, bent unnaturally backwards against the doorframe, lay The Old Merchant. His bloodshot eyes bugged out of his face in terror. A great gash split his neck nearly end to end, and the bloody chasm seemed to leer up at all who gazed upon it. The body had been utterly demolished. it was obvious it had been subjected to a brutal violence long after The Old Man had expired.
Who could have done this?
The Monster Knight? No. That creature wouldn't have kept it's presence a secret. Did it even have the mental capacity to understand stealth? Likely not. When The Monster Knight arrived, The Arms Dealer was certain it would kick down the front gate to begin a frontal attack. As somebody who had spent many a night in the wilderness - oftentimes battling off wild animals - he could tell how a creature would behave on sight. The Monster Knight was the rabid type of creature. When it killed, it would be a loud and messy affair. It wasn't the culprit of this murder... This was The Spy's doing.
Shit... how am I gonna get her...
Ridiculous. How the did this happen? Their team originally consisted of three fighting men, A Strategist, and a Medic. Now, their Strategist had stolen the keys to their prison and abandoned them. One of their men was currently undergoing major surgery. The other was lying dead at his feet. That just left himself and The Nurse to somehow catch The Spy, steal the Arm and escape before The Monster Knight arrived. If they couldn't do that, he'd be forced to fight the Monster Knight himself (a death sentence. completely out of the question).
Dammit... I still can't believe that bastard survived the explosion. What the hell is it made of?
The Arms Dealer gritted his teeth, then bent down to close The Merchant's stiffening eyelids. Although The Old Man had fled in terror under the threat of death (he wasn't a trained soldier. The Arms Dealer felt it was unfair to judge him as one) at least he remained loyal to the end. He looked down on everyone -perhaps by virtue of his age- but he wasn't an evil man. He should be alive to escape this place...
Yes... but how do -I- escape this place...
What a deadly situation he'd found himself in. There were two threats. Two blades swinging for his throat. Two Monsters that wanted him dead. The Spy had killed The Merchant. She would certainly attempt to kill the rest of them. The Monster Knight would return, and it would visit wholesale slaughter upon them. Two blades. Two Dogs on chains... but who wielded them? Who controlled these weapons of war?
... It's obvious who commands The Monster Knight... and The Spy - does she think The Guide is her Superior?! What if-
*BANG BANG*
The Arms Dealer flinched to attention as gunshots - specifically, pistol shots - rang out in the distance. Was that The Guide? Had he wandered into the woods to shoot something? no - The Arms Dealer had only put a single bullet in the revolver he'd handed to The Demolitionist (and was subsequently stolen by The Guide) and he was certain he had heard two bullets discharge. This... this was somebody else.
(Aaagghh!)
A cry. A Death rattle. It carried through the silent mists and seemed to fill the air for a brief moment before finally dissipating with an expiring gasp. Somebody had just died... who had slain them? Zombies? No. It was daytime. Crimson Monsters? Possibly - but it was strange they appeared so close. It's wasn't The Spy... She had killed The Merchant quite silently. She wasn't the type to let her prey scream out and alert everyone of her presence... The Monster Knight.
*shunk-crack*
The distinctive sound of a blade being drawn from splitting bone. A terrific strength was used to - likely - slice through a man's ribcage. The horrible noise echoed out, then - he was once again plunged into that deep, oppressive silence. The Arms Dealer knew what had come upon them. He felt a bead of sweat trail down the back of his neck.
The Monster Knight... it was here!
Demolitionist: "So Basically, um, what I was thinking of, was um-
Guide: *shanks*
D: Ah Fuck - I can't believe you've done this
-RevSaint is a memelord
Slayer: The Guide says you know how infants are summoned to this world. Tell me.
Nurse: pfft, that bastard won't educate you?
S:...
N: When people get old enough, they eventually want little slaves to order around, so they make children.
S:(suddenly interested) They are useful for work...?
N: Yes. You need to get pregnant if you want some.
S: Oh, how.
N: Go ask the Guide to help you get pregnant. Make sure you're -very- serious about it.
S: *nods. leaves*
Arms Dealer: Nurse... that's...
N:*cackling*
Notes: so, um, what I was thinking of was, um-
Yeah so Guide thinks all his issues are gonna be solved once T comes back, but T is pretty much just as jacked up as he is. He also just got shot twice - but I honestly doubt he cares at this point. he's pretty sad. He needs a hug, but he also stinks like high hell lmao. Next Chapter is gonna be more info on Spy. AD is gonna be stealthy lmao. just FYI - Everyone on the merchant's (RIP) faction calls The Slayer 'it'. They disrespect him because that's not his preferred pronoun. but then again, they tried to literally blow him to smithereens, so I guess that's a given. lawl. Also Demo had said a whole bunch of shit while trying to Interrogate THe Guide for info. This is gonna come in handy in a few ^. The Spy can generally see heat signatures, but can't see through the walls of T's magical castle. why? dont ask :gun:
Pay attention to how The Merchant re-spawns (in like 10 chapters lmao who am i kidding im slow asf)... I've been planning this shit forever yeeeaa.
thanks and much love