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Armour: Victide Armour (Ranger)
Weapon: [UNUSABLE]Mandible Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Amidas Spark, Sailfish Boots, Luxor's Gift, Ocean Crest, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Aero Stone, Shield of the Ocean
Health: (300/400)
By now, she thought she'd grown used to the sound of screaming.
She was a nurse after all, and for the majority of her tenure as a medical professional, she was a field medic, a battlefield doctor. She had learned to tune out the sounds of agony. She could barely hear the low groans of despair which echoed about her clinics. In fact, she worked best while surrounded by the noises of anguish. Of course, this wasn't out of some sick sort of sadism. She wasn't some sort of mad doctor (her science experiment might contest this, but her oath didn't apply to whatever he was). She was simply used to it. Wailing, sobbing, screaming... all it meant was 'I'm at work'.
Holy fucking shit!
But never had she heard a sound like this.
Fucking bloody hell!
It sounded like literal, actual hell. Not one voice, but an entire chorus. A chorus of raw, bloody rage sung by a thousand screams. A deafening noise that wormed into her brain and struck her first in the heart, then in the liver. It made her blood curdle. She felt her heart palpitate. A cold terror slipped into her innards and caused her body to stiffen and go rigid. What the fuc-
"Nurse! Nurse! What the-... what is that!"
The Arms Dealer was crouched, frozen and wide-eyed across from her. Even his impressive frame seemed to shrivel at that monstrous noise. The two of them were stowed in Amidas' castle, carefully packing up everything they felt was essential to their journey. They had almost finished too, and had expected The Dwarf to return from his 'errand' and finish his portion. However, he was taking longer then they had anticipated. The Nurse felt herself becoming more and more angry with him as the time ticked by. Was that bastard's little torture project more important than getting The Arm and getting out?! The Spy Bitch had been screaming for what felt like an eternity already. Was he skinning her alive or something? He could have ended this quickly. He had a gun; they could hear the gunshot ring out through the mists (The Arms Dealer seemed offended that The Demolitionist hadn't disclosed he had a gun. Men were sometimes strange). Why didn't he just kill The Spy and get it over with?! Just yesterday, wasn't that idiot moaning about The Monster Knight coming to kill them all? Now he was wasting time by playing games...
That was what she thought.
It wasn't until that awful scream rang out that the two of them realized something was amiss.
The Arms Dealer was staring out the window as he addressed her. She saw his hands tremble as he gripped one of their leather rucksacks.
"Nurse, was that The Monster Knight?!"
She shook her head as she clutched her medicine bag.
"N-no. I don't know... I've dissected that little shit and he never made a noise like that. It... it sounded like The Guide."
"The Guide?"
It looked like the horrendous noise effected The Arms Dealer more strongly than she. His face was twisted in fear, but despite this - he stood shakily to his feet and reached for his shotgun. It was very clear to her what was going through his mind. The Demolitionist was as good as dead. It was only the two of them now. If The Arms Dealer didn't go out there, than he was asking her to. The Arms Dealer was a bit old fashioned with his chivalry, and although The Nurse appreciated it - this wasn't an appropriate time for her to hang back. Time was of essence.
As he passed her by, she reached up and gripped The Arms Dealer firmly about the wrist. She could feel him trembling beneath her palm. When he turned to glance at her, his eyes were filled with trepidation.
"Let's go together."
"No, Nurse it's dange-"
She sharpened her gaze and cut him off before he could deny her. She put on her 'listen to me you stupid fuck, I'm a doctor and you're an idiot' voice. It always worked when she wanted something done. Besides, she knew he didn't want to go out there alone.
"We have no time, Dealer! Whatever that is, is fucking dangerous. We need to grab The Arm and get the hell out. We bring our stuff. We cross the field. We pick up the arm, and we go straight through the front gate. Thirty seconds and we're out. Okay?"
He made a few polite protests, but in the end was more than eager to agree and stooped to pick up the bags they had packed. He glanced at the pink-haired woman's still-unconscious body and the provisions they had separated for The Demolitionist. For a moment, he paused as if he were going to say something, then shook his head silently. The Nurse was glad he didn't raise any objections. She had no reply to them.
"Okay. We make a beeline to the exit."
She nodded and did her best not to wince as she stood. Most of the venom in her blood had been neutralized by her medications, but there was still enough residual to make her ache and sting as she moved about. With her teeth gritted, she grabbed her medical bag and strode out ahead of him - masking her discomfort with exaggerated, almost violent movements. She paused at the threshold of the castle and peered into the thick, blindingly bright mists. She couldn't see far ahead of her. Smog hemmed them in on all sides. The beastly scream had faded into silence and the only noise that she could pick up was The Spy's broken weeping and the soft crunch of uneven footsteps in the distance.
Footsteps... sounds like a limp... The Dwarf? humph.
The Arms Dealer had taken a moment longer to collect his luggage and when he finally caught up, stopped behind her. He likewise peered into the mist and muttered under his breath.
"Smells worse by the day."
There was a moment of silence. The Nurse responded in a gravely serious voice.
"You better not be talking about me, bitch."
The Arms Dealer looked startled. It took a few seconds for him to process the joke, but once he did the anxiety in his expression broke and he huffed in silent amusement. He bumped at her with one of the many luggages strapped to his person.
"Well maybe I am. Whattaya gonna do 'bout it."
She elbowed him and rolled her eyes. His accent was coming out. It meant he was feeling more relaxed. That was good. Being stiff and wound up in situations like these wasn't good for performance. She stepped out of the building, expressly conscious of her stilettoes sinking into the peat.
"Whatever, Shitface. Now, quiet. Lets go."
"Guide."
...
"Hello, Guide."
...
Silence.
Nothing.
Strange.
Had his sense of smell likewise been crippled? No. He tasted the air and found he still had his senses about him. The Dwarf smelled like ale, stone and dirt. His flesh and blood was... mixed with that of grass and rot. He must had been rotting for many days. He was dead. The tall dark skinned man. He smelled like gunpowder and iron. His scent was mingled with that of needles and scalpels and chemicals and fea- The Nurse.
Ah... she will probably take out my intestines again...
And The Guide, prior to their descent to The Burial Chamber, smelt of plants and paper and ink. Afterwards, his scent was that of flames and lava and - now that he thought carefully about it - was strikingly similar to that of The Crimson. It was distinctive. It was clear. The Guide was close by... so why wasn't he responding?
The Terrarian sighed and quickly hopped over the gray brick walls. He had run here as fast as his feet would carry him, through the dense infected forests and over ghastly open fields. Now, he had finally arrived home... but what sort of welcome would he receive? As he vaulted over the retaining wall, his thoroughly bloodied feet crunched in the sharp grass. The weight of his fall shocked through his knees and his hips and his re-attached leg complained, but The Terrarian was far too focused on his goal to allocate any attention to his own injuries.
"Guide?"
...
Where was he? He was close. Very close. If there weren't any mist, The Terrarian would certainly be able to see him. But even so, surely he was in shouting distance... was he asleep? No. The Guide didn't sleep outside, but even if he did - The Terrarian would be able to hear him. That man didn't even sleep silently. He talked all day, and he made strange groanings all night. Is he dead?
A thrill of terror scurried through him.
Dead? Dead?! The Guide? Impossible. He didn't smell like rot - well only a bit. Living people... could living people smell like rot? Maybe a little bit was okay. Surely... surely he was alive...
Fear rose like bile in his throat. He began to walk quickly, not minding the sharp thorns and thistles that tore into the soft skin of his feet. As he carefully navigated the blinding mists, the smells became far more clear. The dread in his guts grew more potent by the second.
Rot, blood, flesh... The Guide.
He stumbled onwards, eyes fixed on the ground just ahead of him. The grass was no longer lush and green, but had calcified, becoming sharp and thorny; dry and whitish, stained with scabs and red splotches of disease. He also left a trail of blood behind him, but when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the ground shifting as tendrils snaked out and drank it up. This land... it wasn't so different from The Crimson at all. He had come home expecting lovely lush sights - but it seemed that hell had followed him.
But... at least The Guide was here.
That was supposed to make it all okay.
But... but...
"Guide! Where are you!"
He began to run. His breath came in short bursts, and he felt his chest tighten. He watched the writhing ground fly beneath him as he barreled through the mist, scanning the ground desperately for any sign of-
...!
A hand.
There was a hand resting there in the slurping, predatory grass.
It was pale and covered with bleeding punctures. The skin was peeling off in thin flaky sheets.
The hand was attached to an arm, and the arm to a shoulder which was hid beneath the collar of a familiar green shirt.
And a head of brown hair, it lay facedown and unmoving as tendrils crawled and roiled over and about it.
The Guide.
The Terrarian was frozen rigid. He gazed upon the form splayed out before him in disbelief.
He wasn't confused. No. It wasn't difficult to understand what he was seeing. It was quite simple. Very simple. He had slain hundreds of creatures. He knew what a kill looked like... but surely The Guide wouldn't die. That was ridiculous. That was... that was an impossibility. He had been his companion since the beginning. He was just always there... for him to die was simply wrong.
Absolutely wrong.
"G-guide... Get up."
He hardened his gaze and knelt down to shake The Guide by the shoulder. He didn't often raise his voice, neither was he accustomed to giving commands, but in this case, he did both. He called out, almost snarling.
"Why are you here. Get up!"
...
"Guide! Listen to me!"
...
"Guide!"
The body didn't respond. A part of him knew it wouldn't.
But what could he do?
He tried again.
And again.
Until tears streamed down his face and his voice was but a whimper.
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Okay so I know Nurses and doctors aren't the same thing and I've been using the terms interchangably. But I'm not gonna do anything about it. The Nurse is gonna be called The Nurse and also Physician and Doctor don''t at me.
So The Terrarian has really soft skin. he has no callouses on his hands or feet so he gets fked up pretty bad by thorns and stuff. He should really put on his shoes.