hello. first.
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And yes, Chocolate is the clearly the most powerful enemy. You know how kids love chocolate? Well Faze in childish in some ways, and as such he's gonna love candi.
He could feel it.
That nagging sort of discomfort, that sense that once again - he was being manipulated by one with far more intellect than he. The Imposter's voice was as smooth as honey and as clear as silver bells. Just like The Guide, his face was careful and his demeanor was perfectly polite - perfectly convincing. Was any part of him real? Was there a genuine bone in his body? Alas, The Terrarian could not analyze him carefully. Indeed, he could scarcely bring himself to look into that face. It made his heart twist. It made his blood run cold. The face and the voice he once took comfort in was now a source of great anxiety, fraying his nerves and sharpening his bones.
"Oh, Knight... Did your parent treat you so cruelly while he was alive? Was he your enemy, that he would have given his own life to take yours? Surely not, for he prepared you for battle! He entreated you, and you followed him into the depths!"
"..."
The three of them were seated beneath the outdoor gondola, the blazing fire at their backs, and the morning waning into the afternoon. The Imposter's eyes were boring into him - into the darkness of his helmet and tunneling into his brain. Was he like The Guide? Could he likewise read the thoughts straight out of his head? The Terrarian shifted, his hand - beneath the table - repeatedly summoned and vanished his blade. He... had had resolved to slay The Imposter last night, yet... he didn't think he could do it.
He couldn't kill The Guide.
Not again.
"He loved you, didn't he. He loved you like his own child. Surely he despaired at the very thought of being separated from you, but he killed himself regardless. I assure you, he must have been in great pain as he did so. He must have wept terribly. Perhaps you saw his distress. Perhaps he hid it from you. But he must have had a reason. And that reason would have been compelling. Don't you want to know why he did it?"
"..."
The Imposter's face burned with excitement and nervousness. He was fidgeting his fingers in the same way The Guide used to. He made his voice slow and careful, so his words were impossible to misunderstand.
"If you want to know - then I can find the answer for you." He pointed at The Journal. It stank of burning flesh and of fire. It smelled of The Guide.
"The answers are in here, but I cannot decode it alone. I need my resources. I need my textbooks. My magical tools and my codebreakers. I must go to my office in The Capitol. I truly cannot do it here."
"...You cannot?"
"I cannot."
"..."
The Terrarian frowned from behind his visor. He... didn't want to leave his home, but-
"If you need this, Knight, then this is the only way to get it." The Imposter glanced at The Stylist. "Take us away from this place, and get us to The Capitol. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can begin."
The Stylist echoed the sentiment.
"The Capitol is North-West."
Honey and silver. These were the words he was itching to hear. Words of comfort, words that gave him hope of relief. A reason... if he knew the reason, would his despair fall away? Would he understand. Agree? Would he be made whole and happy once more, able to live as if The Guide had never wounded him so?
The answer was no.
Somehow, he knew it. He would carry this pain for the rest of his days. Perhaps it would dull, but it was not disappear.
But the lie was so sweet!
This lie... that if he could find that mysterious reason - that scrap of precious knowledge - it would drain the bile in his heart. The clouds would break from over his head. It would make all old things new. His tears would be a passing dream. His mourning would become dancing. Absolution. Justification. Rapture, even...
It was a false hope - but precious nonetheless, and The Terrarian clung to it.
He could not live without it.
So he raised his eyes and met The Imposter's.
His voice was low and strained. He feared he would sound as pitiful as he felt, so he stood to his feet and turned away as he spoke.
"Very well. Then ...we will leave at once."
The Criminal was no normal man.
They got that sense when they first encountered him in the autumn clearing, staring wide eyed at the fiery leaves as if he'd never seen such a thing before. He was fully grown, but the look on his face was akin to that of a child's - dragon eyes bloomed wide in unabashed wonder as he happily munched on chocolate and all sorts of forest edibles (and inedibles).
Then, they knew he wasn't normal when he shredded The Constable's pistol so quickly, the pieces hit the ground before any of them noticed. His blade was infused with lightning, and so too it flashed like it. His attitude, even with a gun leveled to his face, was extremely flippant. He was not afraid of them at all, and carried an assured victory about himself like a brazen cloak. Although he was dressed like a filthy vagrant, he had the demeanor of a pompous prince and the power of something terrifying.
And finally, they knew he was abnormal because he... did not need to eat. He didn't feel hunger and thereby did not feel full. He ate and drank purely for pleasure, and was excessively indulgent in this particular one. For The Man with Dragon Eyes was well on his way to eating every confectionary in The Chocolatier's shop, and the team The Capitol promised to send was an entire day's away.
But... how else would they detain him? They daren't bind him with ropes nor chains, for they had the sense he'd snap them as easily as sewing threads. They could not attack them, for they would surely lose in a conflict.
As such, they would detain them in this way... emptying their coffers to satiate the appetite of The Criminal.
Was he really a criminal? Could a hardened criminal really be lured into a police station with the promise of candy? Such a thing was almost laughable, but The Constable and his associates didn't care. Their hearts were blinded by greed; their eyes were fixed on the bounty.
They would hold The Man With Dragon Eyes until Yharim's forces arrived.
"A pathetic, disgusting creature. An aberration. A failed imitation and," She sniffed, "Ultimately Shoddy work. I've disowned that monstrosity time and time again, and despite it, The King has granted it my name."
*Grroooooaaann*
*Rumble, creak*
The foul stink of rot. The shimmer of hammered gold. Such were the quarters of The Brimstone Witch. The sorceress herself was lounged upon an opulently patterned couch. Her ashen hair veiled in spun gold, her eyes glowing from the darkness of the quarters. The room was all velvet and embroidery, drapes of scarlet and maroon, rubies and obsidian sewn and sparkling into garments and ornaments.
Two lumbering shape gasped and groaned, emitting a horrendous scent with each of their fell utterances. They were foul, remotely human-shaped, yet aged horribly, desiccated and rotting. Tinny blood and corpse wax trailed behind them as they moved about, yet despite their revolting appearance, they were clothed in silks and gold. They'd been painted and stitched and patched and perfumed, covered in gold and veils of jewels and fiery diamonds... The Witch spoke tenderly towards them. She crooned and cooed - her voice dipping into malevolance and peaking in hysteria.
"Oh, darling. I knew you'd understand. Blood of my blood. My precious brothers... How dare they even call it my 'clone'? It does not even bear passing resemblance to me... look at this nonsense."
The Witch sighed as she passed her hand over a blood-red crystal ball. Within the misty innards, in image appeared. A humanoid, bound and blindfolded was strapped to a chair and was being wheeled into an armored vehicle. The Witch curled her lip as she raked it with her eyes. After a moment she shook her head and dismissed the crystal ball.
"I do wonder... what are they using it for? To quell some little farmer uprising perhaps? Or maybe to light a bonfire? That's all that imitation is good for, as far as I'm concerned."
The Witch laughed. Her Brothers' animated corpses uttered choking gasps, filling the air with such an odour that one of the many kneeling maidens began to gag. At the noise, The Witch stopped abruptly. Her clothing clinked softly as she stood to her feet and stepped off from the couch. She glared out from behind her veil and bared her sharpened teeth.
"You dare mock my brothers? My darling, sweet brothers?! Lowly servant. Pathetic slime..."
The Witch looked wildly between her two brothers before balling her fists and chewing her lip. Quickly, she snatched a perfume bottle from her stand, cracked it open, and dumped the entire thing upon one of her siblings. The other, she took the silken shawl from her own shoulders and placed it on his. When it slid off, The Witch tore off her veil and cast it to the groun. She jabbed a finger at the offending servant and snarled at her - then at the group.
"You lot will serve me better dead. I'll re-animate you to be more useful. Here."
*Clatter*
An ornamental knife. It's hilt was studded in rubies and its blade obsidian. Although it was constructed of winking gold, the edge of the blade was black with the rust from bathing so often in blood. The Witch flared her nostrils and stared down without a lick of pity in her gaze. She approached until the the servants, all young girls, were nigh trembling at her feet. One began to cry softly.
"Go on then... Let the pain overtake you, watch the light fade. That moment is to die for, isn't it? Watching terrified eyes grow dull..."
"p-please... great sorceress. Have mercy-"
"No."
The reply was quick and sharp. The Witch's gaze did not waver.
"Serve your purpose, wenches. Take the knife, each in turn and Entertain me."
Lunatic Cultist: If you don't get back here right now, I'm going to kill you myself!
Faze: (starts running)
LC: No, you little shit!
Short one this time :) But I'm pushing the story along so I'm satisfied. I feel like I need to do less character building cuz yall spent so much time with these dudes, you don't need to me tell you exactly what they're thinking anymore.
For those waiting for Calamitas cameo - here :)
aight to for reading.