Chapter 15: The Well Dressed Gentleman
His guide stopped, giving him an amused look, "Why ever would I walk with you behind me? How do I know I can trust you?" he asked, clear mockery in his tone.
"You can't," he answered, standing there glaring at Guile.
"Hmmm..." an unfriendly smile touched the corners of Guile's expression, "What if I refuse to walk before you? What will
you do?"
"Nothing," he answered back, un-moving.
"So we'll stand here all day then?" Guile asked, "You do realize that while you act out your foolish fear induced fantasies, the gentleman back at the structure slips slowly further from your wasted efforts?"
Un-moving, but not as sure, he continued to glare at Guile, "You've proven time and time again that I can't trust you. Why would I walk with you behind me?"
"In darkness, surrounded by the walking dead you cannot escape
me," he responded, his voice cutting through him with that final word, the ambient threat affecting an almost physical sensation in him, "What makes you feel any safer with
me in your sight? If
I chose to end you, what could you possibly do to stop
me? Do you truly believe yourself safer anywhere in Terraria? My reach extends from one end of this world to the other. Where
I am matters not." he answered, his expression dominated by an almost casual violence.
Realizing that he was right, and that this was truly a futile effort, he slumped against the tree and wondered if he should just give up. His life was the plaything of this obviously deranged person, and there really was nothing he could do about it. Every step he took was just one more step towards whatever it was that Guile had planned for him. What was the point?
"It is good to see you realizing your place in this world," Guile added, before slouching again, "Now if you're done trying to antagonize...
me, why don't we continue on to the structure, so that you can satisfy your wasted curiosity and be on your way to regathering your things."
"What's the point?" he asked.
"That is for you to decide," Guile answered.
"If you're just going to kill me, why not just do it, and get this over with. Or do you get some kind of sick pleasure out of playing around with people before you go in for the kill?"
"If I wanted you dead, you would indeed be dead. That is not your role, unless you choose it for yourself. Why, do you
want to die?" Guile asked, that infuriating almost smile on his face.
"Of course not!" he yelled, "But I don't want to be toyed with either! What I want is to figure out what's going on, where I am, and how I can go back wherever it is I belong!"
"What you
want is to keep talking in the same circles over and over again," Guile responded.
"I'm not the one who talks in circles!" he yelled, springing from the tree towards his G
uide. "I'm not the one who wigs out and starts making threatening innuendo every time I'm asked a question I don't feel like answering! In fact I'm not the one who's suddenly gone from creepy to violent, so would you please just cut the crap and walk in front of me!" he finished, desperate to have some control over even just this little pointless interaction.
"No," Guile unsurprisingly answered, that horrible self-indulgent smile touching on the corners of his face.
Taking a deep breath, he turned and stormed off towards where Guile had pointed. He was tired of this, of all of it, and the closest thing he had towards hope for something different... if nothing else, was probably dying with the gentleman. Coming up to the structure in short order he didn't pause, and just went straight through the door.
Lying against the opposite wall, looking no better than the previous day, was the well dressed gentleman. Realizing how unlikely it was that Guile had brought him something to eat, he rushed back out the door, almost knocking it into Guile on the way out, and foraged until he found one. Returning to the structure, he went over and kneeled beside the gentleman, rolling him over to face him and cringing at the sight before him.
The gentleman looked precisely as bad as he remembered him looking, and this was after having a full day to recover. He didn't know why he was able to wake up without his injuries from the night before, but this guy wasn't, but he hoped that the healing potion would fix him up anyway. Not for any reasonable reason, more so just because it gave him something to be working towards that wasn't aligned with Guile's machinations.
Shaking the gentleman, he was relieved when he got a response, even if it was just a grunt. Trying a little harder to rouse him, he succeeded in getting the gentleman to open his eyes, though even that looked as if it took an enormous amount of energy.
"What..." a voice that came out as little more than a whisper asked.
"You need to eat something," he replied, and realizing that he should probably get the gentleman a drink as well... he realized that it had been quite some time since the last time
he'd had a drink...though... he wasn't thirsty. The mushrooms must have somehow taken care of his thirst as well. A boon he was thankful for at the moment, as he had nothing to carry water in.
"Uhh..rrrr..." the gentleman moaned, trying to turn back over. Holding him put, he broke a piece of the mushroom off and placed it in the gentleman's mouth, surprised that the rest of it didn’t vanish as it did when he ate them. He watched as the bite dissolved, and the gentleman swallowed, which seemed to encourage him to open his mouth without resisting this time. After feeding the gentleman the entire mushroom, he was pleased to note that even just that seemed to improve his shallow breathing.
"Where am I?" the gentleman asked him, his voice still weak, but stronger he thought, realizing that it might just be his hopeful thinking.
"I don't know," he answered.
"Where is that other guy?" he was asked, "The one who has been watching over me."
"I'm right here," Guile answered from the doorway, his tone carrying none of the concern that one would associate with someone who was
watching over someone.
"Stay away from him Guile," he said, knowing how futile trying to threaten him was.
"Didn't you hear the gentleman," Guile replied, a mocking tone entering his voice, "I've been
watching over him, and all this time you've been accusing me of something dire." a smirk that only served to aggravate him more touching his face.
"I don't think you realize how little he cares for your wellbeing," he said to the gentleman, or at least he was trying to say, but the gentleman had drifted off again.
Getting up, he walked out the door and around the back of the structure, heading towards where Guile had left his pouches, while ignoring the closed mouth chuckle that followed him out the door. He was going to go straight back to where he'd last been, grab his pouches, return with the healing potion to hopefully cure the well dressed gentleman, and then he'd plan out from there. That was all assuming Guile hadn't done something to the potion when he came for him.
Something about that bothered him though. It was obvious Guile didn't want him dead.
Painfully obvious. But he didn't really seem to want to help him either. While Guile's words seemed to indicate a lack of concern for his wellbeing, the simple fact that he rescued him from the zombies sent an entirely different message.
As he reached the rocky, levitating, terrain, he stopped for a moment to let a wandering slime pass. Watching it, as the sentient blob of goo bounced along its way, he was almost envious. That slime had nothing to worry about. No strings being pulled by some kind of twisted puppet master, no concern for where it was, or where it was going. In fact, remembering that the slime was simply a bi-product of the world's magic, he realized that it probably didn't even really have the ability to think about any of that. How nice that must be for it...
Realizing that he'd just been standing there staring at a bouncing blob of goop for the past few minutes, he looked over the edge to make sure there wasn't anything threatening below, and finding the platform he'd made before, lowered himself down. Getting to the ground from the platform, he tried to remember which fissure he'd crawled into. Walking over to look down them, he found the fissure with his torch set down in it, and considered that this would be a good way to keep track of his exploration going forward. The supplies for making torches weren't that hard to come by after all.
Looking down into the fissure, trying to ensure that there was nothing of concern waiting for him there either, he took a deep breath, and climbed back down into it, his stomach turning to lead as he did. At the bottom, he quickly pulled out the torch fastened there, so as to dispel as much of the shadow as possible, and the fear of what happened the last time he was down here began gnawing at him. Taking the first few shaky steps into the crack in the wall, his ears were strained to the point he was surprised they hadn't exploded from his skull by now as he forced himself to continue forward.
Passing the second torch, his entire body taunt enough that he was surprised his muscles were still capable of movement, he had to almost drag his every step forward as if his legs were hundreds of pounds each. His ears straining to hear any sound outside of his own, he was surprised at how loud his torch was down here, even though its noise still wasn't enough to cover the pounding of his heart, a noise he wished he could soften, as what better advertisement to the walking dead than a warm, rapidly beating heart, that was surely pounding loud enough to rattle the walls. A headache began to develop, which did nothing to encourage him.
Coming up to the third torch, and the bend in the passageway, he paused before rounding the corner. This was is, this is where the zombies attacked him. His plan, that rapidly came tumbling from his subconscious where he hadn't realized he'd been considering it, was to round the bend, grab his belt and his sword, check for the potion, and run back for the surface, not stopping to even breathe if he didn't have to.
Taking a slow shuddery breath, and holding it as he tried to listen for anything outside of the pounding of his heart, he counted down,
One... Two... Three! before racing around the corner looking around frantically for anything at all beyond the empty tunnel, and hopefully his pouches and sword. A dark hunched over shadow almost halfway down the corridor stopped him dead in his tracks, and a strangled scream slowly seeped out of him as his heart stopped... at least that's what if felt like.
Everything seemed to pause for a moment, and then move forward as if the world had suddenly begun to move in slow motion. The torch fire even submitted to this new speed, and delicately swayed in the darkness, as if moving to slow deliberate music that only it could hear in the emptiness left by the silencing of his heartbeat. For what seemed like an eternity he stood there, frozen, his gaze focused on the crouching shadow, as if he could will whatever it was away by raw fear alone.
One breath, barely inhaled through a throat that he hoped would one day loosen, slowly seeped out, and he could feel his head growing lighter. Knowing that if he didn't start breathing again, he might not ever again do so, he took a deep painful breath, and fell coughing to the ground, sure that whatever that hunched shadow was would now descend upon him. Several deep rough cough addled breaths later, and still going, he dared to look up towards the shape, and wondered at why it simply sat crouching where it was.
Forcibly getting his breathing back under control, and hopelessly trying to slow the beating of his heart, he dared stand again and holding the wall for support, took a step toward the shape, his torch miraculously still in hand. The edges were too clean for it to have been a person... or zombie, as he'd initially thought. Another step, and staring at the thing as if it were the only shape he could see... which wasn't far from the truth, he tried to make out more from the shape, but could only tell that it had a rounded top, and flat sides.
Another shaky step, followed quicker than before by another, and he was approaching the shape... not believing what his gut initially told him he was seeing. His gut in this case was not mistaken, and after a few more steps, he was within arm's reach of what was undeniably a headstone.
What the hell...
Crouching down to look at it better, his body slowly trying to work out the tightness fear had gripped in his system, he held the torch where he could read the inscription.
You were slain by a pack of Zombies.
This was obviously Guile's idea of a joke. And it was just as twisted and messed up as he would expect, coming from Guile. Standing back up, he kicked the tombstone, and was less than pleased when it didn't fall over. In fact, it looked like it had been there for quite some time, as if it had been permanently placed. Muttering under his breath at what constituted as humor in Guile's world, he looked around for his pouches, and found them lying not too far away with his sword beside them.
They looked like they'd been somehow removed from him without having unfastening them. Putting the pouches back on, he checked for the potion, and was relieved to find it within. Going through the rest of what he was carrying he didn't
seem to be missing anything. Picking up his sword, he took a moment to listen for any noises outside of his own.
It was kind of funny. This was probably meant to shake him up, but it actually helped calm him down a little. If Guile had enough time to mess around like this, then that meant it hadn't been as bad as he'd thought down here. His
guide had probably been following him, just waiting for a chance to do something obscene, and the walking dead had provided that. A small part of him wondered if it hadn't been Guile who had brought the walking dead... though that had implications he didn't want to consider... He did say he
had nothing to fear from the walking dead...
Hearing nothing other than the low sound of the torches, and his thankfully slowing heartbeat, he attempted to loosen his muscles a little further before heading back to the surface. Simply holding the sword did also help a little with his fear. Not that it had done him too good before, but at least he wasn't as helpless. The trip back to sunlight was quicker than coming down had been, and he even paused for a few moments to look around as his eyes readjusted to the brightness at the top of the fissure, which was considerably brighter, even with the overhanging dirt all around.
There was a clear opening further along that seemed to drop into another passageway headed into the darkness. A small part of him considered glancing down there before heading back, but he didn't want to risk being out too late again. Turning for the overhang that led to hill towards his structure he continued his surprisingly uneventful trip back.
Letting two more slimes pass as he made his way up the hill a thought occurred to him and he checked the coins he was carrying. 2 Silver Coins, and 55 Bronze ones. Pulling the bronze coins out, he noticed that they
bundled together in a small pile of coins, looking almost immaterial and solid simultaneously. Moving them around in his hand, he wondered at what he could possibly need coins for. Even if he did manage to find another survivor struggling to get by, why would either of them possibly want coins?
Shaking the thought, he put the coins back in his pouch and finished his trip back to the structure. A small excitement had begun to build up in him. He was hoping this potion would help the gentleman recover, and then he'd finally have someone other than Guile to help him figure things out. Perhaps the gentleman knew more about what was going on than he did... which was almost nothing. Trying to keep his excitement to a reasonable level, he opened the door and entered the structure.
As he entered, he was surprised to see that Guile was not hovering menacingly over the gentleman. Walking over to where he was lying, he crouched down and turned the gentleman back towards him and shook him in an attempt to rouse him again. After a little bit of shaking, the gentleman came too and looked weakly up at him.
"Who are you?" he was asked again.
"Listen," he said ignoring the question, "you need to..." he stopped. Did you drink a healing potion, or was is some kind of salve that you poured onto a wound to help it recover. Pulling the potion out, he looked at it. The liquid wasn't
too watery... but that didn't mean anything by itself. "Dammit Guile!" he shouted, figuring that this was the reason his
guide was missing.
"Hey, I'll be right back," he told the gentleman before standing and exiting the structure. "Guile!" he shouted when he'd walked a few steps from the building. "Where are you hiding now?!" Silence was his answer.
Looking around, he didn't see Guile hovering nearby like he usually did. "Damn you Guile!" yelled again.
"It's a bit too late for that," the low and usually frustrating voice came from almost directly behind him.
Spinning and jumping back, he bumped into something that hadn't been there seconds before when he turned, and leaping forward with a shout he turned back around to see Guile standing there with nothing nearby for him to have come from behind, for all the world as if he'd been waiting there the entire time.
"You shouldn't be wasting that on him," his
guide informed him without waiting for his question.
"Yeah, I know your thoughts on the matter. Just tell me how I use this," he responded, holding the potion up.
"On yourself," Guile replied, that infuriating smirk almost there.
Nodding as he took a deep breath he asked again, "And let's just pretend that I need to use it, how would I go about doing that?" he asked.
"You shouldn't waste it now. You look perfectly fine to me."
"Do we
have to play this game!" he shot back, "I just want to know how to use this stupid potion!" he ended in a yell.
Guile narrowed his eyes, almost as if thinking whether or not he should answer before responding in a tone that sounded... resigned? "He should drink it. It's a potion, they're to be drank," shaking his head as he answered.
Turning back to the structure he went in and back over to kneel next to the gentleman, who thankfully was still somewhat conscious. "Here, drink this," he said, lifting the gentleman's head before holding the strange shaped vial to his lips.
"What..." the gentleman asked, an almost concerned expression on his face.
"I think it'll help you recover from that attack. It's strange for you to be so out of it still, and this is a healing potion," he responded, hoping that he wasn't wrong.
Still wearing an expression that didn't seem too comfortable with this, the gentleman closed his eyes and said, "Okay..."
Tilting the vial up, he watched as it smoothly poured almost straight down the gentleman's throat, leaving not even a drop behind. He was surprised the gentleman hadn't choked on it as quickly as it poured. The effect it had though was instantaneous. From weak and helpless, to only a little tired looking, the gentleman took a deep contented breath and closed his eyes, before lying his head back down noticeably better off than he'd been just moments before.
