Hopefully back on schedule? I try
Armour: Victide Armour (Ranger)
Weapon: Tendon 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: (400/400)
It'd begun to drizzle.
Those cold droplets fell fat and heavily down on the lush landscape, leaking down the shimmering windowpanes and dripping off the castle rafters. The light pattering of rain filled the darkness with a gentle white noise, and she could hear the rolling thunder rumbling out in the distance.
*siiihhh*
She sucked a breath in from between chattering teeth as she watched as the sun's last rays disappear over the horizon. Shit, she was freezing! Why had she waited until now to make a run for one of the houses? She had spent the past three hours trying to decide when she should run across the field, but ultimately couldn't manage it. She was buck naked, for heaven's sake, and she did not want anyone ogling her! Every time she poked her head out the door with the intention of darting across the field, somebody was lurking around the wooden gondola or The Knight was working at his crafting stations. At a certain point, The Stylist was so very annoyed, she had half a mind to try a tear off one of The sleeping Dryad's leaves as a covering. (She didn't, of course. How preposterous to take someone's body parts for her own modesty)
But now, the sun had set. She would sneak out under the cover of darkness and make a run for the third house in that neat row of buildings - before all the lamps that bordered The Compound wall switched on for the evening. Although the building was darkened, and not at all welcoming, it still called strangely to her. Somehow she knew there was a warm bath and a set of dry silken sheets waiting there, and she desperately wanted to be out of this cold, damp castle. The moment the last of the sunlight disappeared over the treeline - she wrapped her arms about herself, fixed her eyes on the third house, and stepped into the freezing rain.
Oh heavens!
It was like she had plunged into an icy river. The gentle evening breeze had kicked up into a stiff wind and it blew against her - freezing her to the bone. How miserable! She wanted to lay down and cry, but doggingly continued to put one foot ahead of the other. She felt her throat burn as her ragged breath stripped her windpipe; her teeth chattered furiously as she made her way across the obsessively manicured lawn. Her bare feet folded the emerald blades of grass and quickly grew numb in the bitter cold and her long pink hair rapidly became waterlogged and tugged heavy and wet against her scalp. By the time she had walked halfway across the lawn, she was shivering so terribly - she feared she might keel over. Since when had she been so weak? She had never struggled so hard just to walk in the rain... ah...
When... when was the last time I've eaten?
She hadn't had anything to eat in... it must have been a terribly long time. Long enough for her body to stop feeling hunger. It appeared The Dryad had restored her physique to some extent, but clearly it wasn't enough. The Stylist lowered her gaze to stare at the ground. She gritted her teeth as she forced her leaden limbs to continue moving. She was walking much more slowly now, but her building was getting closer and closer. If she persisted, she would surely reach her goal.
So she struggled on. Walking through the dim darkness. Braving the bitter cold. Navigating through the white noise of rain pounding down all about her...
(thump-thump)
...
(shiiiink)
...
(thud)
She blinked glanced up. What was that? Noises of... a struggle? were seeping through the screen of the pattering rain. At first, The Stylist wasn't sure she'd heard anything at all, but once she identified the source of the disturbance, she knew something was eerily amiss.
(thump...)
For as she peered through her soaked bangs, her gaze was drawn to a window on the upper floor of the second house. Framed there, in seamless stone measured to the millimeter, she saw two shifting silhouettes backlit with firelight. For a moment, she couldn't tell what they were - but once they moved, the moment a horned figure pulled its blade from the limp form of a bearded man, she knew she had witnessed something dangerous.
...The... The Knight!
There was a long moment before the fire was doused and the window was plunged into darkness, but during that brief second, The Stylist was very conscious of the horned figure turning to look at her. It was the mere shifting of inky shadows, but she felt that alien, dead-eyed gaze prickling her skin. A thrill of panic ran through her, and she quickly looked once again towards 'her' home, desperately begging her feet to carry her more quickly.
Oh no... who was that? What was that? Was that a murder?! And he saw me, that guy - the horns. It's the Knight. The Monster Knight. The Destroyer in The Spider Caves, oh no, he's...
(thump)
She froze as the second house's door swung open and bounced against the opposing wall. She didn't dare turn to look, but was well aware of what had just happened. The Knight had just murdered somebody. She had seen him, he had seen her. Now what?! She didn't know much about The Knight, but she did know he was very violent. She also knew he was very meticulous (she has seen him on his hands and knees, cutting grass with scissors earlier today). He certainly would not leave a body to rot in his beloved compound...
He was going to make the body vanish... Would he make the witnesses vanish as well? She trembled there, frozen in fear as she heard those measured, heavy footsteps approach.
Nonononono-
She clung to herself and stood rigid, as if hoping The Knight would fail to notice her if she didn't move. Of course, it was a vain thought. The horned figure was making his way across The field towards the main gate, and his path intersected with hers. His armour clinked softly with each of his strangely graceful movements. The dim moonlight glinted off the blade he held in one hand. The other dragged The Merchant's lifeless corpse through the perfectly manicured lawn.
...
The rain was coming down more heavily now, and so bitterly cold - that The Stylist feared she could no longer move even if she wanted to. Goosebumps prickled up over every inch of her skin, and she stood there with wide eyes and chattering teeth. She felt her heartbeat accelerate as The Monster Knight drew nearer, and when he halted directly in her line of sight - she thought her heart would stop at well.
...
He didn't turn to look at her. As he spoke, he staring straight ahead at the gate. The quality of his voice was very strange - a flat, monotonous pitch that seemed to speak directly into her brain. There was no threat in his tone, but the drawn blade made The Knight's intentions very clear.
"What did you see."
A question stated like a demand. She stuttered out a response from between violently chattering teeth. She stared straight ahead at the side of The Knight's helmet, not daring to drop her gaze and look upon the corpse he was dragging.
"Nothing. I-I saw n-nothing."
A long pause. The Knight turned to look at her. If any other man had seen her like this, completely naked and outdoors - she might have felt violated or otherwise exposed... but something about The Knight was entirely inhuman. He evaluated her figure as if he were looking at a tree or a stone. Somehow, this was more comforting than otherwise.
He evaluated her then effortlessly lifting the old man's corpse to her eye level. She swallowed a cry, and willed the tears not to spill from her eyes. She hugged herself ever more tightly as the dead man's eyes stared at her accusatively.
The Knight spoke again.
"Tonight, The Merchant has gone away. What did you see."
"T-the Old man... s-stole away in the middle of the n-night... I-I saw him g-go with my o-own eyes."
"..."
The corpse was lowered back to the ground and The Monster Knight nodded slowly. The blade vanished from his hand, and in its place, a heavy furred cloak of waxed blue linen- identical to the one currently draped over his shoulders - appeared. He held it out to her and she received it with trembling hands, clumsily unfurling it and wrapping herself in its warm, dry folds.
They didn't exchange a single word after that. The Monster Knight continued onwards, dragging The Merchants corpse behind him. As he passed her, all the lights of the third building came alive. She could see the flickering of a roaring fireplace. She could see the glint of a golden chandelier. The smell of... soup wafted from inside. The thought of supper made her stomach flip and she quickly hurried towards her new home, eager to enjoy the amenities that her lies had purchased for her.
She would beg forgiveness from the cosmos once she had filled her belly.
Resurrection?
Such a concept was entirely impossible... a fantasy. Absolute nonsense. Perhaps reincarnation was possible. For a soul to be recycled and reused and spit out once more into this chaotic world... but for somebody to die and come back to life with their memory intact?! Such a thing was preposterous.
Completely hogwash... we burned The Merchant's corpse! I saw him die with my own hands. I scattered his ashes!
The idea was completely insane, but The Guide had seen it with his own eyes. He had asked The Merchant every question he could think of, and the old man had proved to himself over, and over, and over again. He indeed was the very same 'Merchant' that had given The Guide that Golden Medallion before expiring.
It was the very same medallion, right down the the imperfections.
And so... There were two iterations of 'Merchant'! Or perhaps more than two. Should The current(original) Merchant die, would the one who had plotted against him in league with Amidas come back to life? Perhaps some entirely new version of the old bearded man would appear and there would be three iterations! How did fate choose for The Original Merchant to come back? Was there some order to it? Was it random chance? The entire concept made The Guide's head spin. He had never heard of such a thing before, but now - he had borne witness to a bizarre miracle.
If... if I die...
If he died, would he be replaced by somebody identical to himself? The Guide had no twin. One would be hard pressed to find somebody indistinguishable to himself in deed and knowledge even if they scoured this entire land... but, perhaps a 'Guide' would appear if he died! Somebody completely interchangeable with him would wander into The Compound, drawn by that strange compulsion each of the townspeople (save himself) had experienced. In that case, would this 'Guide Iteration' realize he had only existed for a few moments? Or perhaps time would have twisted - and he indeed did have a past, a history and a childhood. Would this 'Guide' iteration be a real person, or was it just a clone? Ah - perhaps he himself was an iteration of the title 'Guide'!
Are they more of 'me' stored somewhere?
The whole concept made his impressive brain ache. How incredible. How bizarre. Respawn?! Resurrection?! Doppelgangers and iterations? Utter nonsense, but if he was going to trust his eyes and his ears, then it wasn't nonsense at all. He already knew that souls could exist outside of the body. He had seen the spirits of his family held captive by the Wall of Flesh, and he himself had nearly been torn from this mortal coil. Was it such a leap to believe that even he could be brought back?
No. It was a foolish hope. The Wall wanted him. He had been tied to that horrid monstrosity from his birth and lineage. He has seen the insane power of The Wall. It was a deity unto itself! Its power was surely greater than this strange 'system'. But... but perhaps?
Perhaps... I must ask The Merchant if he remembers anything between his death and resurrection... I must try to discover this!
There was too little information! Nothing like his had ever been recorded before. Never in his twenty six years of existence had he seen or imagined any sort of 'resurrection system'... but now, The Terrarian had come into his life. That almost-man who broke all the laws of this world. The Terrarian who had caused the strange border about The Compound. He produced and reproduced resources endlessly. He defied physics at every turn... This 'respawn function' must likewise be one of The Terrarian's effects on those around him.
And of course, he has no clue about it... In fact, I don't think I've ever told him about The Compound Border either...
The Guide sighed as he stared at his own haggard face in the mirror. Although his appearance had improved drastically since he'd been brought out of that deathly coma, he still looked thin and exhausted. There were bags beneath his eyes and his cheeks were sullen. His left hand still ached badly when he attempted finer motor functions - but at the very least he had regained some use of the last two fingers (the same couldn't be said of The Terrarian, whose fingers were missing entirely - perhaps still in Amidas's possession).
He was getting better... but for what purpose? Soon enough - he and The Terrarian would march out into The Crimson to take down 'The Perforators' and 'The Crimson Brain'... and then, The Wall.
I'm the seal... If I want to kill The Wall, then I need to release it... and if I want to release it, then the seal needs to 'break'.
He had already set his mind on it. He would destroy The Wall, and was well aware of what it took to summon it. He was not so kind that he would sacrifice himself for altruistic reasons. He knew that if he didn't kill The Wall, then it would consume him and he would suffer for time immemorial within that horrid fleshy hell. Could The Terrarian defeat The Wall? He had better. Even if The Guide somehow respawned through these strange resurrection machinations (doubtful, considering his unique circumstances), he only had once chance to accomplish this goal. There was only one chance to defeat the monstrosity. If they released The Wall and The Slayer failed to kill it, then it would roam free - wrecking havoc and spreading its evil throughout the land. Could he trust The Terrarian with such a heavy responsibility?
... I have to... I need to make him stronger, I need to make sure there is no chance that he will lose... for my own sake!
He would trust The Slayer. He needed to. What choice did he have!? There was nobody else he could rely upon to kill The Wall and break The Curse. Time and time again, The Guide had placed his life in his companion's hands... when the time came to fight The Wall, could he likewise entrust his soul to The Slayer?
"ugh..."
The Guide shook his head and rubbed his palm against his cheek, the stubble created friction against his hand and he recalled the sensation of The Wall's needle-like tongue lashing at him. He... he needed to die. For his own sake, for the sake of his family - even for the sake of the world - he needed to die. The Terrarian needed to kill The Wall of Flesh, and The Guide was going to disappear. Could, perhaps, these other iterations of 'Guide' be sacrificed to summon The Wall? He wasn't sure. He wasn't at liberty to test such gruesome hypotheses. And what of The Terrarian himself? Clearly, he had grown quite fond of The Guide. He... he wouldn't take kindly to this news at all. In fact, he might even actively obstruct The Guide's plan.
... So I can't tell him. Agh...
The Guide frowned bitterly into the mirror as his heart dropped.
The moment he died, The Wall would appear - perhaps instantaneously. His death... it wasn't going to be a gentle one. Because he needed to control the timing of it, then the best way to go about it would be... suicide. And if he wanted The Slayer to fight The Wall, then he would need to commit suicide in front of the person who saw him like a parent-
...fuck!
His stomach flipped and a chill went down his spine. How horrid... what a horrible thing he had to consider! What was he thinking! Could he really do such a thing to that man? How dreadfully it would hurt him. How confused he would be! He'd be overcome with shock betrayal. This would most certainly break The poor Terrarian's heart, yet if The Guide tried to explain his plan, The Terrarian certainly would not allow it to happen. His strength was far greater than The Guide's and should he wish to prevent The Guide from slitting his own throat or hurling himself into lava - it was something he could accomplish easily.
I... maybe I'll write him a note...
His heart twisted within his chest as he splashed water into his face. He didn't want to think on this topic any longer. He was interested in resurrection, yes, but first - he had to die, and what a way he would die! What a horrible 'blessing' this was. What a dreadful burden he carried, and what guilt would The Terrarian be subject to once this was all finished. Agh!
I'm sorry, buddy.
He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head, doing his best to cast these miserable thought far off to the back of his memory. He... he still had time. He still had time to spend here on this earth. He could still talk and laugh with The Terrarian. They would fight together a little longer. They would, together, kill The Worms and The Brain...
And then...
The Guide turned to look through the bathroom window's frosted glass. The Dewey morning sunlight filtered in, casting its lovely light across the sparklingly maintained bathroom. He could see The Terrarian's caped figure straddling The Compound's wall. He had occupied himself with installing dangerous looking spikes on the tops of the wall and reinforcing the main gate with steel beams. Yesterday, he had done much the same - working hard to build up the little compound they had started together...
The Guide sighed as he straightened. His time was dreadfully short.
He had planned to leave for The Crimson soon.
Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after...
So, he had best not waste these precious few days.
His own 'end' was just over the horizon.
*Arms Dealer Appears*
PartyGirl: "What did he do?"
Guide: Tried to Kill The Slayer
*Demolitionist Appears*
PG: "And him?"
G: He also tried to Kill The Slayer
*Amidas Appears*
PG: "Let me Guess..."
G: Just assume everyone has tries to Kill The Slayer
Slayer: :smiling_face_with_tear:
-(Thanks, Nam!)
Normally the lights in the compound turn on before the sun sets, but The Slayer turned them off so he could take care of The Merchant's body in silence. Hopefully I am going to speed up a little, but The Guide has vastly overestimated my writing speed with his 'end is just over the horizon' Lmao. But I think you guys all know the boss progression anyways, so things aren't going to go exactly as Guide planned. We still have the Goblin army at the doorstep (which is why T is building reinforcements) and The Party girl who is hankering to go after Amidas so she can secure that promotion with Yham.
Little does she know that there are orders to literally kill her on sight lmao. rip. (she's too busy being drunk as hell right now tho. so lmao)
Guide is actually doing something really fuked. Like he's just going to use The Slayer for his own purposes, save his family or whatever, kill the crimson, and disappear, leaving T all alone like: holy shit wtf what the hell just happened.
Kk leav me rev. much love.
GIVE ME SKITS PLSSSS