Hope everyone has a happy holidays!
Armour: Brimflame (Unequipped)
Weapon: Winter's Fury(Unusable), Stormfront Razor
Acc(10/11): Celestial cuffs, Mana Flower, Sorcerer Emblem, Celestial Emblem, Ankh Shield, Deific Amulet, FrostSpark Boots, Grand Gelatin, Amalgamated Brain, Evasion Scarf. (Unlimited Buffs)
Health: (500/500)
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)
The sun was setting; a deep, glaring orange peeked over the dark curve of the earth, casting everything it touched in black shadows and dark neon.
The sounds of nighttime chittered and rustled. Crickets and critters rustled about, taking their places to herald the night.
Trees stretched their branches to the sky like sinister fingers, those benign boughs now appearing sharp, grasping and predatory in the dying light. It gave a somber feel, and The Terrarian gazed into the sunset as was his fashion. He observed this cycle daily. As the heavenly bodies rotated in a strict, almost religious manner, so did he stand and watch its procession. In the morning, the light was soft and bright, warm and lovely. A blessing to all its rays touched. In the day, it shone down powerfully, sometimes its touch was gentle. Sometimes it was so harsh, it caused all that was beneath it to shrivel and blacken. And in the evening, without fail, it spreads glorious colours over the sky until it sank lower and lower. And as it sank, so did the colours die. Pinks and blues became glaring red. The shadows grew long. The Night fell upon them.
"..."
It happened every day. The darkness covered the earth and the undergrowth stirred with the grunts and moans of the undead. Ever since The Crimson was driven from these lands, The undead slowly returned to the area. The Terrarian made an effort to slaughter a good number of them each evening to keep their population low. He had done well in this endeavor, and was quite proud that when he walked home that evening, there wasn't a single shuffling corpse the be found.
*creak*
The front gate made a noise as he pushed it open. The hinge slid smoothly, heavy, dense wood reinforced with steel beams - and balanced so perfectly The Terrarian couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride each time he passed through those gates. In fact, The Compound, in its current state, was his pride and joy. Everything had been successfully repaired from its previously dismal state. Everything had been swept clean, all the cracks had been repaired. The chipped paint was stripped and reapplied. Everything broken had been fixed. Everything worn had been made new... and The Terrarian didn't necessarily like that people were living here, making messes and scratching things, but it was something he tolerated. He tolerated The Guide because of course he did, and he tolerated the rest of them because The Guide asked him to. Besides, the maintenance gave him something to do when the place was quiet and everyone had gone to sleep for their allotted eight hours per day.
Very Inefficient...
Well, regardless, soon night would fall and everyone would be going unconscious. Having been banned from killing any more people without explicit permission, The Terrarian had to make do with disposing of The unconscious bespectacled goblin via non lethal methods. After looting the body, he had dragged it a few miles out and left it in a clearing near a large beaten path. Hopefully zombies would consume him during the night, or if he somehow survived, he would flee away from this place and not towards The Compound.
... Its good The Guide put my fingers back on...
Frankly, The Terrarian didn't care either way, so long as The Goblin Tinkerer never returned. The Terrarian wasn't a forgiving man by any measure of the word. Even if he had eased off his... strictly utilitarian way of thinking, he was by no means kind nor charitable. He felt no kinship with anyone in The Compound save The Guide and - more recently - The Dryad. It would have been extraordinarily easy (and tempting) to kill The Tinkerer, but after receiving such a tongue lashing from The Guide, The Terrarian really didn't want to push his luck. Ultimately, although he was so angry he was seeing red, he was willing to forget when asked to.
As pathetic as it sounded, The Terrarian was willing to overlook just about anything for The Guide. It was strange how things turned out. As prideful as he was, he had found himself willing to lay his ego down at his parent's behest. He knew he was young. He had long accepted that he didn't understand The Guide's plans - but he didn't need to. He trusted that man with life and limb. The Guide almost always knew what he was doing... even if it seemed odd.
...?
So when he arrived at The Compound and found The Guide sleeping soundly on the lawn, he didn't even give it a second thought until The Dryad beckoned him into her castle.
I'd been stupid.
How in the world did I manage to think of every situation except for the most obvious one? I had a story for where I came from. I had a story for how I got here. For the 'family' I left back home and the life I'd led before I came to The Resistance... I had even prepared a greeting (which must have been from the wrong region, as the reactions were not what I had expected)...
But I failed to prepare a name with which to call myself.
And in the heat of the moment, under the pressure of time and the risk of rousing suspicion, I snatched the most odd and pompous sounding name from the lips of The Steampunker... and regretted my decision immediately. 'Faze'? Ridiculous! I wish I had somebody to complain to that I needed to call myself this until I accomplished my goals as a Resistance Peon, but this error was entirely of my own doing. Agh... what a pity. Well, I suppose I'll have to get used to it.
Phase, Faze... she said 'phased' tch, if it had been somebody's else's name, they would have absolutely known I was lying.
Still, although I'm not a humble man, being dressed like a pheasant and introducing myself with a given name is... is just a bit much. Given names are reserved for only the very rich or very powerful, and very few people have them. Most people are referred to by some personal characteristic or their occupation, but rarely - one becomes prominent enough to be granted a unique place in history. Names, figues who are irreplaceable in this world. The Tyrant Yharim, The Witch Calamitas, The Commander Braelor, The Sea King Amidas... There is much honor associated with a given name, and although I wholeheartedly believe I am well deserving of one, it isn't something befitting my alibi.
"Alright you scum! Get in line! Move Move!"
I berate myself one final time before sighing and raising my head to take in the cold winter dawn. After that embarrassing display with The Bandit and The Steampunker, I cannot help but feel inadequate. The Archmage told me there would soon be some sort of political struggle and I needed to make allies inside The Resistance. Initially, I had brushed off the task as negligibly easy. It's shocking how quickly my ego has inflated itself. Only a day ago I was dying on the plains of Permafrost... yet look at me now? Already, I'm beginning to see that man who had marched into Braelor's court demanding to be set free - and suffering the consequences thereof.
Pride goes before the fall... don't make the same mistake twice...
The cold stings my cheeks, the air flowing freely through the gashes in my ragged clothing and causes my body to shiver. It's not an intolerable cold, not like before - the small rune tattooed into my shoulder keeps the worst of the bite at bay, but its cold enough for me to feel small and exposed before the great expanse of the sky. I've lived here my whole life, but for the very first time, I see this sunrise as a free man. There is nobody watching over my shoulder. There is nobody to whom I am beholden to. I'm alone... I've been given advice, but whether I follow it or not is entirely up to me, for I alone will suffer the consequences of failure. In some ways, this is better. In others it is worse... but I will never become a follower. Never!
I need to make allies... I need to forge my own path. I'll make this work...
And 'making allies' turned out to be dreadfully difficult. I am well learned in one subject. I know the deep intricacies of magic, but that's about it. Everything else are just the random factoids I've picked up from neurotically read every book in the library alphabetically from A to G. And these men and women that I must deceive? They have the experience of decades. All of them do. All of them have seen and heard and lived a hundred times what I have. They've spoken millions of words between each other and will easily discover I am but an infant...
Tch... fighting is easier... so much easier.
I stand to my feet and suck in a long breath. The cold chills my lungs and fills me with a strange longing. I'm standing on the top of one of the tall castle towers, having activated invisibility to escape and ponder. Fighting, combat, is easy. It's simple. Crush the enemy with overwhelming power. Rain knives from the heavens. Slash the necks or bisect the chest. It was pure and simple and I am good at it... But making allies? ugh...
"Move it you useless wretches! Alright. We've got a mission listen up!"
A man is barking orders in the frigid courtyard below. His voice carries easily over the silent snowy landscape. The dawn is pale here. Pinks and shallow blues filter through the high clouds above. The jagged mountain range cuts the horizon with a vicious sharpness. An eastern wind moans over the land, kicking up the powdery snow and filling the air with white noise. It's a beautiful sight, if not barren and harsh... I wonder, what does the dawn looks like elsewhere?
The man below continues to bellow.
"We're running an expedition to the Southern Jungles! Got to collect wood and magical resources for The Resistance Mages! They said they needed... eh, Queen Bee Honey and Blue Sky Flowers. Well, don't worry! You'll have a senior scout with you so y'all don't get lost and eaten by derplings and trappers!"
I feel my ears perk up. The Jungles in the South?! I've read of those! A world of lush greenery, vines and twisting nettles. Mahagony trees that spring up from the mud and whose canopies hosted a great myriad of teeming life. Bees, Grubs, Slugs, Crawdads - Insects of all sizes and shapes. Fantastic Birds. Fantastic Beasts. Turtles, that although slow - launched themselves at dangerous speeds as means of attack. Plants that writhed and moved, man eaters! Trappers! Fish of all make and manner. And The Jungle does not only contain dangers, but Jungle spores that glow and pulse in the deep underground. Beautiful blue flowers that glowed serenely in the caverns. Life Fruits - I am familiar with these... but finding one myself would be a different experience entirely. I had longed to see the world, and this may very well be my chance! I quickly equip my armour beneath my rags and watch as the 'vanity' enchantment causes the Brimstone robes to vanish to nothing. It's odd that I cannot see my own armour, but I'm assured that it's there; I feel its power coursing through me. In my excitement, I summon The Winter's fury to my hand, but-
"gkkk!"
But almost immediately, something sharp and prickly slithers wetly down the nape of my neck. I shiver and am seized with a strange irrational terror. Hot breath tickles my jaw and the flat surface of teeth presses against the back of my ear. With trembling hands, I stash away the magic weapon in favour of my throwing knife, and my Doppleganger fades... Perhaps I imagined it, but I'm sure I heard a bestial chuckle cackling from the dark recesses of my mind. It mutters something before fading, and I'm glad I cannot understand what it says. I wrap my arms about myself and shiver. Not from the cold, but from the dread that fell over me like a heavy blanket, easily extinguishing all the wonderous joy I'd lost myself in just moments before.
...tch... I cannot use magic...
"Ah! And remember y'all. Our Hero still needs Life Fruits! It's a great honor to contribute to the invincible warrior! Isn't that right? And to make the deal even sweeter, anyone who brings one will be given a cash reward! Now, who's up for it? Come on now!"
The man below continues on cheerfully. I can see him gesticulating from the corner of my eyes as the expedition slots fill up. The Steampunker and The Bandit have joined. I see them looking about. Are they looking for me? Well... they seemed accepting enough, and - although my short interaction with them had been intensely stressful for me - I perceived that they didn't particularly dislike me either. With considerable effort, I take several deep breaths and compose myself. My Doppleganger has long faded, but it appears whenever I even think of using my mana, it surfaces to haunt me...
That is not sustainable. How will I fight with no magic? No, that's an issue for another time. I'm going to The Jungle.
"Anyone else? Step up now!"
Last chance! Still invisible, I hop off the top of the building and drop feet first into a freefall. The sensation of all my innards pressing against the top of my skull and the dizzying noise of air in my ears fills me with apprehension. The magical rune The Archmage had given me is incredible. I can fall from a dreadful height, yet land on the ground as lightly as a feather. I know I won't be hurt purely as a matter of fact, but despite that I've already tested the rune many times, I cannot shake the feeling of panic as the ground rushes up to meet me.
*puff*
Its uncanny every single time. There's barely a noise when I hit the gray cobbled floor. The sensation in my body is nothing more than as if I'd hopped down from a low ledge. After a month of living under the effects of gravity, my brain is certain there must be some terrible impact in my knees after a two hundred foot fall, but instead, I feel nothing at all - as if I were completely weightless. Its strange, but I'm sure I'll get used to it quickly. Ah, I should have chosen a more shadowed landing spot. When I deactivated invisibility, a number of my fellow Resistance Peons jumped in surprise. I ignored them and walked through the crowd, quickly making my way to the front to take a place on the expedition team. A number of people give me strange looks (Including The Bandit... The Steampunker waves at me with a brilliant smile). I can hear them muttering to each other about me, but I choose not to listen. I'm going to The Jungle. I'll make allies later.
"Hm... alright, that's seems about enough. What do you think?"
The man nods at his companion as he counts us off. He's standing on a scaffolding and looks down at us with a snotty look in his eyes. Beside him is a large man with a bald head and an impressive moustache. He is hardily built, sporting a set of heavyset eyebrows and squashed features. His voice is gruff and low, and although his demeanor is militaristic, his uniform is moreso that of a chef than of a scout. He glances at me with a bit of suspicion before shrugging and addressing our group.
"Alright all of you... I'm gonna lead your crew over the next week! You will call me 'Officer' on the field. You can call me Tavernkeep in the bar. Nothing goes on tab. Cold Hard cash only... And if you wanna stay alive, y'all better listen to every word that comes outta my mouth. Now follow me. We're taking the tunnels."
Bandit: So what's your name?
Hero: XxX_FaZeLeader69NoScopes42069FuckedUrMom_XxX
Bandit: what?
Hero: Do you like it? I came up with it myself
Actually no joke that XxX_FaZeLeader69NoScopes42069FuckedUrMom_XxX is his original name when we made the character. That's what on the birth certificate. His Gamertag is just Martin