SilverHexxitFights
Terrarian
Rules:
- Open the spoilers after reading the first chapter.
- At the end of each, they will tell you where to go. Go there.
- You cannot go back until the story is complete - then you can play it again.
- Have fun and tell me how you liked it!
The land of Terraria was aflame with renegade magic. If one were to look over it from above, they would see the flames and anger raging from the exact middle - white light on one side, dark purple on the other. It all soared out of a breach in the center.
All across the land, creatures were hiding and battling. The bodies of a few humans lay twisted and broken on the ground not far from the chasm; flames exploded near the Dungeon as brotherhood faced brotherhood, millennia of tension unleashed in but a few seconds.
Deep inside the chasm, forces of energy battered at the hard purple and white stone. All the force was emanating from two centered points: the blades of two swords that stood, facing each other, in the hands of two beings of immense power.
"You will not try this," the light one hissed. "You will not try to dominate us."
"You have grown weak, brother," his opponent snarled in a rumbling voice that shook the earth. "Now is my chance." His blade flashed forward, purple and green light soaring, but was blocked midway by a gold and red wave of energy. The air hummed with energy as the two swords clashed, seemingly fusing...
All across the land, creatures were hiding and battling. The bodies of a few humans lay twisted and broken on the ground not far from the chasm; flames exploded near the Dungeon as brotherhood faced brotherhood, millennia of tension unleashed in but a few seconds.
Deep inside the chasm, forces of energy battered at the hard purple and white stone. All the force was emanating from two centered points: the blades of two swords that stood, facing each other, in the hands of two beings of immense power.
"You will not try this," the light one hissed. "You will not try to dominate us."
"You have grown weak, brother," his opponent snarled in a rumbling voice that shook the earth. "Now is my chance." His blade flashed forward, purple and green light soaring, but was blocked midway by a gold and red wave of energy. The air hummed with energy as the two swords clashed, seemingly fusing...
Dorgrim straightened up, dusting his hands of the powder that coated them. He eyed the lone torch that lit his house with great distaste. Were he to draw any nearer, the chances were high that he and the entire town would go up in a mushroom cloud.
As the explosive powder was disposed of properly, a knock came at the door. He answered it, hands still wet.
"Dolgrim, we have a problem..." Xylia the Dryad started. "You need to help us. Come outside, please."
Dolgrim sighed drearily, took off his safety goggles and followed her outside, trying not to glance any lower than her hair. He was a well-respected gentleman, after all.
In the center of the little village there were three figures, each with weapons pointed at them. Dolgrim surveyed them: a demon, a hornet and a wraith. They were all eyeing the Pirate, Arms Dealer and Party Girl, who were pointing weapons: a cutlass, a strange shark/gun weapon and a confetti gun.
As everyone watched tensely, Zach came running up, brown hair blowing in the intense wind that came off the tundra when it was cool. Shivering in just his shirt and pants, he called "Weapons down! Everyone! Greet these adventurers with peace!"
They all lowered their weapons except the Party Girl, Isis. Terra the Mechanic pulled her away gently. Almost everyone listened to Zach - he'd been here for years longer than most of them. Dolgrim had been one of the earlier arrivals to the town, and he was still several months junior to Zach and respected him accordingly.
At the silence that had fallen, the demon spoke up in a guttural, garbled version of English: "You are the inhabitants of Borgsville, I do believe?" He signaled behind him to another party, who came forward. It was a Nymph - a relative of the Dryads. She carried something in her arms.
Dolgrim turned to mutter to Xylia, but before he could, Zach and Terra both let out gasps of horror. Dolgrim looked a little closer and saw that the limp bundle in the Nymph's arms was a body. It was long-dead and marred by blood, but it was still recognizable as Borg, the founder of the village. He had been a mighty warrior.
With great trepidation, Jake the Pirate spoke out. "He's dead, aye? So what does this mean?"
The demon spoke up again, hesitantly. "Who... is the Guide here?"
Zach stepped up, pulled a green cap out of his pocket. The Guiding Cap. He said nothing, just held the cap.
The demon angled its head. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Flametongue, a major demon in the Underworld. A scouting party of ours found this man on the way to visit your village. And you, the Guide, must take command of the village."
Zach said nothing, just looked worried. Then, his lips barely parted, he murmured "I accept."
Everyone knew a major event had just taken place. It was very rare for the founder of a village to die - and Borg wasn't about to die, it seemed. A mighty warrior in his prime, he had carried a battleaxe of Palladium and an armor set of the same. It was said that, so long as he could strike a blow, he would never die. But he had.
Zach seemed to be having these thoughts, too. He finally spoke. "What is the occasion that brings our founder to us in death?"
Flametongue paused, out of respect for the dead, and then said loudly and clearly: "The land of Terraria is in civil war."
Almost everyone gasped, except Wilbur the Merchant, who was eyeing Borg's pockets hungrily. "We need your help," continued the demon. "Your village is the one situated closest to the point where the Hallow and Corruption are farthest from each other. In short, it is directly in between them and will be the last one to fall when they reach you. Yes, it will reach you - it has broken its bonds, killed our king. It will reach all through this land before long. And much anger has been wrought as a result, too much magic unleashed; balances of power tipping.
"Your village," he continued, "will need to stand against the threat for as long as it can. The demons are mustering below, but we are kept in our Underworld home by the undead creatures of the caverns. They have sided with the Corruption, the stronger partner, and seek to keep the allies of the Hallow trapped beneath the earth. In addition to us, the Hallow is protected by its own creatures; the Dryad and Nymphs, who are fighting their own battles in the Jungle; and the creatures of the skies and ocean. On the other hand, everything else - excluding the Dungeon, which is so wrought by inward strife that we fear its downfall at any moment - is on the side of the Corruption."
Zach looked terrified, but a gleam of stoicness eased its way to the top of his features. "Then we must help. Is there anyone - anyone! - in this village that is willing to travel to the Jungle or to the Underworld? The rest will be chosen to stay and defend the village."
Slowly but surely, everyone chose a spot. Xylia immediately traveled to stand by the hornet and Nymph, hoping to protect her Jungle home. The Witch Doctor, whose name no one could pronounce, followed her shortly.
Wilbur, Terra, Isis, Hannah the Nurse and Zach chose not to move quite yet. Grog the Goblin Tinkerer chose to travel to the Underworld, as did Jake and Alpha the Cyborg.
Finally, everyone had made their choice: hell, hostility or home. The only two left to choose were Dolgrim and Hanno, the Dye Trader who had moved in shortly after Borg complained loudly about the lack of color in his armor.
While Dolgrim considered inwardly, Hanno thought out loud. "I am but a lowly dye trader; I do not think I would provide much to any force."
Zach extended a hand. "You understand pigments, don't you? Understand plants and camouflage?"
Slowly, it dawned on the Dye Trader, like Zach had the power to give knowledge. "I will go to the Jungle, then."
Dolgrim was still considering, everyone's eyes on him. Where would he go?
If you want to go to the Underworld to help the demons, choose Chapter 2.1.
If you want to go to the Jungle to help the Dryads and Nymphs, choose Chapter 2.2.
If you want to stay and protect the village, choose Chapter 2.3.
As the explosive powder was disposed of properly, a knock came at the door. He answered it, hands still wet.
"Dolgrim, we have a problem..." Xylia the Dryad started. "You need to help us. Come outside, please."
Dolgrim sighed drearily, took off his safety goggles and followed her outside, trying not to glance any lower than her hair. He was a well-respected gentleman, after all.
In the center of the little village there were three figures, each with weapons pointed at them. Dolgrim surveyed them: a demon, a hornet and a wraith. They were all eyeing the Pirate, Arms Dealer and Party Girl, who were pointing weapons: a cutlass, a strange shark/gun weapon and a confetti gun.
As everyone watched tensely, Zach came running up, brown hair blowing in the intense wind that came off the tundra when it was cool. Shivering in just his shirt and pants, he called "Weapons down! Everyone! Greet these adventurers with peace!"
They all lowered their weapons except the Party Girl, Isis. Terra the Mechanic pulled her away gently. Almost everyone listened to Zach - he'd been here for years longer than most of them. Dolgrim had been one of the earlier arrivals to the town, and he was still several months junior to Zach and respected him accordingly.
At the silence that had fallen, the demon spoke up in a guttural, garbled version of English: "You are the inhabitants of Borgsville, I do believe?" He signaled behind him to another party, who came forward. It was a Nymph - a relative of the Dryads. She carried something in her arms.
Dolgrim turned to mutter to Xylia, but before he could, Zach and Terra both let out gasps of horror. Dolgrim looked a little closer and saw that the limp bundle in the Nymph's arms was a body. It was long-dead and marred by blood, but it was still recognizable as Borg, the founder of the village. He had been a mighty warrior.
With great trepidation, Jake the Pirate spoke out. "He's dead, aye? So what does this mean?"
The demon spoke up again, hesitantly. "Who... is the Guide here?"
Zach stepped up, pulled a green cap out of his pocket. The Guiding Cap. He said nothing, just held the cap.
The demon angled its head. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Flametongue, a major demon in the Underworld. A scouting party of ours found this man on the way to visit your village. And you, the Guide, must take command of the village."
Zach said nothing, just looked worried. Then, his lips barely parted, he murmured "I accept."
Everyone knew a major event had just taken place. It was very rare for the founder of a village to die - and Borg wasn't about to die, it seemed. A mighty warrior in his prime, he had carried a battleaxe of Palladium and an armor set of the same. It was said that, so long as he could strike a blow, he would never die. But he had.
Zach seemed to be having these thoughts, too. He finally spoke. "What is the occasion that brings our founder to us in death?"
Flametongue paused, out of respect for the dead, and then said loudly and clearly: "The land of Terraria is in civil war."
Almost everyone gasped, except Wilbur the Merchant, who was eyeing Borg's pockets hungrily. "We need your help," continued the demon. "Your village is the one situated closest to the point where the Hallow and Corruption are farthest from each other. In short, it is directly in between them and will be the last one to fall when they reach you. Yes, it will reach you - it has broken its bonds, killed our king. It will reach all through this land before long. And much anger has been wrought as a result, too much magic unleashed; balances of power tipping.
"Your village," he continued, "will need to stand against the threat for as long as it can. The demons are mustering below, but we are kept in our Underworld home by the undead creatures of the caverns. They have sided with the Corruption, the stronger partner, and seek to keep the allies of the Hallow trapped beneath the earth. In addition to us, the Hallow is protected by its own creatures; the Dryad and Nymphs, who are fighting their own battles in the Jungle; and the creatures of the skies and ocean. On the other hand, everything else - excluding the Dungeon, which is so wrought by inward strife that we fear its downfall at any moment - is on the side of the Corruption."
Zach looked terrified, but a gleam of stoicness eased its way to the top of his features. "Then we must help. Is there anyone - anyone! - in this village that is willing to travel to the Jungle or to the Underworld? The rest will be chosen to stay and defend the village."
Slowly but surely, everyone chose a spot. Xylia immediately traveled to stand by the hornet and Nymph, hoping to protect her Jungle home. The Witch Doctor, whose name no one could pronounce, followed her shortly.
Wilbur, Terra, Isis, Hannah the Nurse and Zach chose not to move quite yet. Grog the Goblin Tinkerer chose to travel to the Underworld, as did Jake and Alpha the Cyborg.
Finally, everyone had made their choice: hell, hostility or home. The only two left to choose were Dolgrim and Hanno, the Dye Trader who had moved in shortly after Borg complained loudly about the lack of color in his armor.
While Dolgrim considered inwardly, Hanno thought out loud. "I am but a lowly dye trader; I do not think I would provide much to any force."
Zach extended a hand. "You understand pigments, don't you? Understand plants and camouflage?"
Slowly, it dawned on the Dye Trader, like Zach had the power to give knowledge. "I will go to the Jungle, then."
Dolgrim was still considering, everyone's eyes on him. Where would he go?
If you want to go to the Underworld to help the demons, choose Chapter 2.1.
If you want to go to the Jungle to help the Dryads and Nymphs, choose Chapter 2.2.
If you want to stay and protect the village, choose Chapter 2.3.
Not too far from the village was Borg's old hellevator - the term for a shaft that led straight down to the Underworld. "It should be safe at the bottom, but we can't be sure. Who will go first?"
The Wraith had left their company moments earlier, seeking out more help in the lands. At no volunteers, Flametongue sighed. "I'll go, then. Be careful, and take these..." He pulled a knapsack out from his wings and handed each member a blue potion. "Feather falling," he explained. "Makes you fall slower." Then he jumped, his large wings making him glide downwards.
Grog decided to go next, hoping to get it over with. Jake, Dolgrim and finally Alpha followed, leaving Bri the Stylist at the top. Finally, she drank the potion and dived in too.
For a few seconds, all Dolgrim could hear was the wind whistling past his ears and tugging at his helmet. His vision cleared a little, and he could see the sides of a rocky shaft rushing past them, soon turning off into a few caves. Glinting red eyes glared out of the darkness.
Below him, he could see Jake flailing, his cutlass whipping in the wind but still strapped to his belt. He was yelling a half-challenge, half-scream of fear.
Then the wind whistling stopped. Dolgrim was jerked to the side, his hat nearly falling off, and into the arms of Grog.
"I saw zhis," Grog explained, "and had to investigate. You'll stay with me, right?" He reached out to grab Bri as she plummeted past. The three were clutched together as Grog pointed at a golden chest glinting in the dark depths of the cave. Being so close to the others made Dolgrim a little hot in the face, as he had always fancied the pretty Stylist.
The Goblin Tinkerer crept closer to the chest and, seeing no traps or monsters, opened the lid a crack. As his face was lit by the riches within, the chest slammed its lids together and jumped.
Grog tumbled backwards, landing on his rear, and rolled, tumbling down the hellevator. At least his potion would protect him - if it hadn't worn off yet. Dolgrim and Bri were faced with two choices: jump, or destroy the monster. The first option was cut off as three skeletons appeared at the mouth of the cave, hissing and clacking their age-worn jaws.
Bri turned away from the Mimic, trying to break free of the skeletons. Dolgrim reached into his knapsack with a long-practiced motion, snatched a bomb, and lobbed it straight into the Mimic's mouth.
A violent explosion ensued, throwing them out into free fall once more. Dolgrim blacked out, the pain from the explosion overwhelming him.
When he woke, he was lying on a bed of obsidian with his companions looking over him. They looked a little different. Flametongue held out two different artifacts: a blue glove glowing with power, and a golden dagger. "Which one?" he asked.
If you choose the Titan Glove, advance to 2.1.1.
If you choose the Magical Dagger, advance to 2.1.2.
The Wraith had left their company moments earlier, seeking out more help in the lands. At no volunteers, Flametongue sighed. "I'll go, then. Be careful, and take these..." He pulled a knapsack out from his wings and handed each member a blue potion. "Feather falling," he explained. "Makes you fall slower." Then he jumped, his large wings making him glide downwards.
Grog decided to go next, hoping to get it over with. Jake, Dolgrim and finally Alpha followed, leaving Bri the Stylist at the top. Finally, she drank the potion and dived in too.
For a few seconds, all Dolgrim could hear was the wind whistling past his ears and tugging at his helmet. His vision cleared a little, and he could see the sides of a rocky shaft rushing past them, soon turning off into a few caves. Glinting red eyes glared out of the darkness.
Below him, he could see Jake flailing, his cutlass whipping in the wind but still strapped to his belt. He was yelling a half-challenge, half-scream of fear.
Then the wind whistling stopped. Dolgrim was jerked to the side, his hat nearly falling off, and into the arms of Grog.
"I saw zhis," Grog explained, "and had to investigate. You'll stay with me, right?" He reached out to grab Bri as she plummeted past. The three were clutched together as Grog pointed at a golden chest glinting in the dark depths of the cave. Being so close to the others made Dolgrim a little hot in the face, as he had always fancied the pretty Stylist.
The Goblin Tinkerer crept closer to the chest and, seeing no traps or monsters, opened the lid a crack. As his face was lit by the riches within, the chest slammed its lids together and jumped.
Grog tumbled backwards, landing on his rear, and rolled, tumbling down the hellevator. At least his potion would protect him - if it hadn't worn off yet. Dolgrim and Bri were faced with two choices: jump, or destroy the monster. The first option was cut off as three skeletons appeared at the mouth of the cave, hissing and clacking their age-worn jaws.
Bri turned away from the Mimic, trying to break free of the skeletons. Dolgrim reached into his knapsack with a long-practiced motion, snatched a bomb, and lobbed it straight into the Mimic's mouth.
A violent explosion ensued, throwing them out into free fall once more. Dolgrim blacked out, the pain from the explosion overwhelming him.
When he woke, he was lying on a bed of obsidian with his companions looking over him. They looked a little different. Flametongue held out two different artifacts: a blue glove glowing with power, and a golden dagger. "Which one?" he asked.
If you choose the Titan Glove, advance to 2.1.1.
If you choose the Magical Dagger, advance to 2.1.2.
Dorgrim slipped on the blue glove. "That is the Titan Glove," Flametongue advised him. "Be careful. It lends you great strength, but that must not be misused."
Dorgrim's burns had been healed by the demons, and it was time to travel onwards to the demon stronghold. Everyone had survived the encounter with the Mimic, although Grog was constantly berated by other members of the party.
In the distance, Dorgrim could see obsidian pillars rising out of the red landscape; he was given a grappling hook to assist in traversing the hellish terrain. As the small group grappled slowly over the burning land, the obsidian towers grew larger, more distinct, until finally they reached the nearest one.
Opening a hidden door in the wall, Flametongue ushered them in. "We have armaments here. Don them now or you will not see the next day."
Everyone in the group was given a pair of lava-walking shoes; a full set of a burning orange armor that was surprisingly cool on the inside; and either a large greatsword, a flaming bow or a small stick that burned with a fierce flame at the end. Dolgrim chose the greatsword; he looked down into its orange surface and saw lava burning slowly through it, coursing through its veins. He experimentally swung it, surprised at the strength that came from the Titan Glove.
"It is time for us to do battle," Flametongue commanded when the group had gotten their gear on. "You, there, Demolitionist! Prepare some bombs. They will come in handy in blasting through the ranks. To battle!"
The group trudged out of the obsidian tower and was greeted by the sight of pure hell.
Across the lava oceans, battle raged, tearing at the land with such force Dolgrim was surprised his eardrums didn't burst. Bats of all kinds soared in the sky above; armies of skeletons adorned the land, firing arrows and swinging maces. There were other creatures, too: globs of slime that caught fire and burst into the demons' lines; more Mimics that waited, unseen, in the crevices; a disturbing creature that appeared to be a walking suit of armor with no body.
"Demolitionist and Cyborg, it's your time to shine. Go, go, run to that building over there." Flametongue indicated a huge house made of burning brownish-red rock. "Bomb it, burn it down, kill everyone inside. Use your strongest weapons. Go."
Alpha and Dolgrim dashed across a small lava lake and toward the building. Dolgrim admired the Cyborg; he was tough, a ready worker and a strong fighter. He never seemed to tire, either, and carried a huge mine launcher. That was what he held now in his hands, shooting mines at the doorway in preparation for their arrival. Dolgrim tossed a bomb - a small charge, the one he had made that morning before everything changed.
The explosion rattled the battlefield, blowing a hole in the structure and causing it to sway menacingly. They dashed through the hole created and were engulfed in battle.
More of the haunted armor suits were inside, swinging dark swords and spears at them. The fiery greatswords came out, parried the dark ones, and slashed through the ranks of the enemy.
Dolgrim barely heard Alpha cry out as the skeleton archer's arrow pierced his breast.
Dorgrim's burns had been healed by the demons, and it was time to travel onwards to the demon stronghold. Everyone had survived the encounter with the Mimic, although Grog was constantly berated by other members of the party.
In the distance, Dorgrim could see obsidian pillars rising out of the red landscape; he was given a grappling hook to assist in traversing the hellish terrain. As the small group grappled slowly over the burning land, the obsidian towers grew larger, more distinct, until finally they reached the nearest one.
Opening a hidden door in the wall, Flametongue ushered them in. "We have armaments here. Don them now or you will not see the next day."
Everyone in the group was given a pair of lava-walking shoes; a full set of a burning orange armor that was surprisingly cool on the inside; and either a large greatsword, a flaming bow or a small stick that burned with a fierce flame at the end. Dolgrim chose the greatsword; he looked down into its orange surface and saw lava burning slowly through it, coursing through its veins. He experimentally swung it, surprised at the strength that came from the Titan Glove.
"It is time for us to do battle," Flametongue commanded when the group had gotten their gear on. "You, there, Demolitionist! Prepare some bombs. They will come in handy in blasting through the ranks. To battle!"
The group trudged out of the obsidian tower and was greeted by the sight of pure hell.
Across the lava oceans, battle raged, tearing at the land with such force Dolgrim was surprised his eardrums didn't burst. Bats of all kinds soared in the sky above; armies of skeletons adorned the land, firing arrows and swinging maces. There were other creatures, too: globs of slime that caught fire and burst into the demons' lines; more Mimics that waited, unseen, in the crevices; a disturbing creature that appeared to be a walking suit of armor with no body.
"Demolitionist and Cyborg, it's your time to shine. Go, go, run to that building over there." Flametongue indicated a huge house made of burning brownish-red rock. "Bomb it, burn it down, kill everyone inside. Use your strongest weapons. Go."
Alpha and Dolgrim dashed across a small lava lake and toward the building. Dolgrim admired the Cyborg; he was tough, a ready worker and a strong fighter. He never seemed to tire, either, and carried a huge mine launcher. That was what he held now in his hands, shooting mines at the doorway in preparation for their arrival. Dolgrim tossed a bomb - a small charge, the one he had made that morning before everything changed.
The explosion rattled the battlefield, blowing a hole in the structure and causing it to sway menacingly. They dashed through the hole created and were engulfed in battle.
More of the haunted armor suits were inside, swinging dark swords and spears at them. The fiery greatswords came out, parried the dark ones, and slashed through the ranks of the enemy.
Dolgrim barely heard Alpha cry out as the skeleton archer's arrow pierced his breast.
Coming soon!
The darkness of the Jungle soon overwhelmed them as the company traveled eastward. Huge mahogany trees arched across the sky, blocking out most of the light. The company that had chosen to travel to the Jungle consisted of Mario the Painter, Dolgrim, Phoebe the Steampunker, Xylia, the Witch Doctor, Jamal the Arms Dealer and Gandalf the Wizard. Each was putting up with the mosquitos, humidity and muddy ground.
"Seems like nothing could ever destroy this place..." Phoebe mused. "I can't imagine it ever falling."
The Nymph, whose name was Felicitae, answered. "Nothing can, except the Corruption. We've never seen something of this strength before."
"So why aren't we being attacked?" Jamal interjected angrily. "I came for the glory, not for the mosquitos!"
"Most of the fighting is below the surface, where the hornets and dryads used to rule," she answered. "Though we must be wary aboveground, too. Ah! Here is the entrance. Are you ready?" She handed them each a glowing green potion. "An antidote. Touch nothing - not friend nor foe," the instruction came. "Everything down here is to some degree lethal, and it is advised not to touch it."
With that ominous proclamation, they descended into the Jungle.
They were met almost immediately with battle: in a massive cavern lit with poisonously glowing green plants, fighting raged. As balls of acid cut through the air, fired by strange worm-like creatures, the Jungle's creatures - Dryad, hornets, carnivorous plants of all varieties - parried and counterattacked with their own skills. As they watched, a nymph pulled a green sword out of her scabbard and parried a ball of acid that flew off to the side and hissed through the shell of a vine-like creature.
Beside Dolgrim, Felicitae and Xylia looked stricken. After some prodding, the hornet (who had not yet spoken) showed them a stockpile of weapons and ammo. Once they were all down to it, Felicitae motioned for them to choose something unless they already had a weapon. Dolgrim looked in the chest, saw a fishing pole, and grabbed it on a whim with the thought "Tyler will like this."
"This is where we split up," Felicitae instructed. "Xylia will lead one party, and I will lead the other. Choose now."
If you choose to go with Felicitae deeper into the Jungle, advance to 2.2.1.
If you choose to go with Xylia into battle, advance to 2.2.2.
"Seems like nothing could ever destroy this place..." Phoebe mused. "I can't imagine it ever falling."
The Nymph, whose name was Felicitae, answered. "Nothing can, except the Corruption. We've never seen something of this strength before."
"So why aren't we being attacked?" Jamal interjected angrily. "I came for the glory, not for the mosquitos!"
"Most of the fighting is below the surface, where the hornets and dryads used to rule," she answered. "Though we must be wary aboveground, too. Ah! Here is the entrance. Are you ready?" She handed them each a glowing green potion. "An antidote. Touch nothing - not friend nor foe," the instruction came. "Everything down here is to some degree lethal, and it is advised not to touch it."
With that ominous proclamation, they descended into the Jungle.
They were met almost immediately with battle: in a massive cavern lit with poisonously glowing green plants, fighting raged. As balls of acid cut through the air, fired by strange worm-like creatures, the Jungle's creatures - Dryad, hornets, carnivorous plants of all varieties - parried and counterattacked with their own skills. As they watched, a nymph pulled a green sword out of her scabbard and parried a ball of acid that flew off to the side and hissed through the shell of a vine-like creature.
Beside Dolgrim, Felicitae and Xylia looked stricken. After some prodding, the hornet (who had not yet spoken) showed them a stockpile of weapons and ammo. Once they were all down to it, Felicitae motioned for them to choose something unless they already had a weapon. Dolgrim looked in the chest, saw a fishing pole, and grabbed it on a whim with the thought "Tyler will like this."
"This is where we split up," Felicitae instructed. "Xylia will lead one party, and I will lead the other. Choose now."
If you choose to go with Felicitae deeper into the Jungle, advance to 2.2.1.
If you choose to go with Xylia into battle, advance to 2.2.2.
Coming soon!
Coming soon!
Zach stepped up onto the platform in the center of the village.
"You were all there," he instructed. "You all heard the threat we face. But if we can do anything about it, let us do so! In memory of our founder, Borg!"
Everyone gave a halfhearted cheer: Wilbur, Dolgrim, Isis, Terra, Hannah, Tyler the Angler, Shinto the Truffle and Edmund the Clothier. They were all the village had. They would do it. If it killed them.
Zach began assigning duties. Terra and Dolgrim were assigned to trap duty. Gathering up materials, Terra paused and turned her head to face him.
"Don't you get the feeling we're not going to survive this?" she asked. "I'm a little worried, myself. But I suppose we have to do what we can."
Dolgrim didn't answer, and Terra didn't expect one. She just turned away, green eyes glinting with pain. "I guess we'd better go."
Fifty yards from the village, the first traps went up; Terra's wrench skillfully manipulated the wire between the pressure plates and Dolgrim's explosives. Dart traps followed, ready to poison anyone in the way. Their farthest line of defense was made up of massive flamethrowers, each several feet wide, that would deliver a gush of red-hot flame at any provocation.
Just as the sun was beginning to turn orange on the horizon, Terra gave a yell from five feet behind Dolgrim. A hole appeared in her shoulder, the yellow Mechanic's shirt quickly becoming red with blood. Dolgrim's head whipped around, surveying the area. There! On a hill, three figures stood. One held a rifle of sorts.
Dolgrim threw a grenade, more as a distraction than an attack, and whirled around. He attempted to stem Terra's bleeding while thinking furiously. Should he fight or run for help from the village?
If you choose to stay and attack the sniper, advance to 2.3.1.
If you choose to run to the village for help, advance to 2.3.2.
"You were all there," he instructed. "You all heard the threat we face. But if we can do anything about it, let us do so! In memory of our founder, Borg!"
Everyone gave a halfhearted cheer: Wilbur, Dolgrim, Isis, Terra, Hannah, Tyler the Angler, Shinto the Truffle and Edmund the Clothier. They were all the village had. They would do it. If it killed them.
Zach began assigning duties. Terra and Dolgrim were assigned to trap duty. Gathering up materials, Terra paused and turned her head to face him.
"Don't you get the feeling we're not going to survive this?" she asked. "I'm a little worried, myself. But I suppose we have to do what we can."
Dolgrim didn't answer, and Terra didn't expect one. She just turned away, green eyes glinting with pain. "I guess we'd better go."
Fifty yards from the village, the first traps went up; Terra's wrench skillfully manipulated the wire between the pressure plates and Dolgrim's explosives. Dart traps followed, ready to poison anyone in the way. Their farthest line of defense was made up of massive flamethrowers, each several feet wide, that would deliver a gush of red-hot flame at any provocation.
Just as the sun was beginning to turn orange on the horizon, Terra gave a yell from five feet behind Dolgrim. A hole appeared in her shoulder, the yellow Mechanic's shirt quickly becoming red with blood. Dolgrim's head whipped around, surveying the area. There! On a hill, three figures stood. One held a rifle of sorts.
Dolgrim threw a grenade, more as a distraction than an attack, and whirled around. He attempted to stem Terra's bleeding while thinking furiously. Should he fight or run for help from the village?
If you choose to stay and attack the sniper, advance to 2.3.1.
If you choose to run to the village for help, advance to 2.3.2.
Coming soon!
Coming soon!
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