Story The Accidental Terrarians

Miziziriz

Skeletron
If you're an old TO member, you may have seen this story before, but I'm going to post it anyway, for the benefit of any new members.

Summary: Two teenagers are accidentally teleported into Terraria, where they must save a hostage who is being held in the Dungeon to get back home. But there are things the friendly NPC's aren't telling them...

Prologue
Anthony McCrowley woke up and stretched. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, the birds were singing, and the smell of blueberry pancakes wafted up from the kitchen. Anthony should have been excited- it was his first day of high school, after all. He wasn't.
Groggily stumbling down to the kitchen, Anthony ran the day’s challenges through his head. It would be the first time his overprotective parents would let him walk to school alone. Anthony also knew for a fact that Mrs. Faulkner was to be his math teacher. Mrs. Faulkner was the kind of teacher with the memory of an elephant and the pride of a lion, so she had held a deep grudge against the McCrowleys after Anthony’s older sister, Angela, proved that Mrs. Faulkner had done an algebra problem incorrectly.

Angela McCrowley. The very words sent shivers down Anthony’s spine. In the eyes of her parents, Joseph and Rebecca McCrowley, Angela was a perfect angel. But remove Joseph and Rebecca for two minutes and she underwent a horrifying transformation. Rather than the perfect angel she had been a few seconds ago, she was now a demon, the likes of Hell itself. It seemed like Angela’s favorite thing to do in the world was to torture poor Anthony. And it was nearly impossible to stop her.
Meanwhile, oblivious to her son’s worries, Rebecca McCrowley set about preparing breakfast. Within a minute, she had set a steaming plate of pancakes in front of each child. “Dig in!” she encouraged. “Don’t want to be late for the first day of school!”
“Sure don’t, mommy,” Angela replied. A sickening smile spread across her face and her voice dripped with sarcasm.
Of course, Rebecca ate it up and came back for seconds. “ You’re going to make tons of new friends, right?”
“Of course, mommy.”
“And you’ll do your best, no matter what’s thrown at you?”
“Definitely, mommy.”
Anthony sighed disgustedly. Why couldn't his mother see what lay behind the thin curtain of perfection?
Suddenly, Joseph spoke up for the first time all morning. “Anthony?” he asked. “Angela? Your mother would like to speak to you.”
“Oh, yeah,” Rebecca remembered. “Anthony, we know you’re growing up and getting more independent, but we thought that since you’ll be new at Riverside High, it would be a good idea for Angela to walk with you on your first day.”
There was a pause. Then Anthony and Angela simultaneously shouted, “WHAT!?!”
“Is there a problem?” asked Joseph.
“No. There is no problem,” Angela seethed. She glared at Anthony with a stare of pure hatred.
“Well, then, look at the time!” Rebecca called cheerfully, trying to break the deadly silence. “You two should be getting ready to leave- you don’t want to be late!

Chapter One
The walk to high school with Angela was the most painful fifteen minutes of Anthony’s life. The walk back was even worse.
Acting on her parent’s orders, Angela gave Anthony some advice. Her three words of wisdom about high school to were “Don’t raise your hand, don’t draw attention to yourself, and NEVER say you have to use the bathroom out loud. Oh, yeah, and skip Mrs. Faulkner’s class.”
“That was four things!” Anthony protested. Angela slugged him.
“And don’t say anything smart-aleky,” she said as she began to run to the school.
By the end of the day, Anthony had broken all five of Angela’s rules, and was now a social outcast. Angela , of course, knew all about it, and made sure to stay a full block ahead of Anthony, while occasionally glancing over her shoulder and giving Anthony the foulest of stares.
Anthony, of course, had other things to worry about. Already he had two algebra worksheets, a book report, a writing assignment entitled "The Coolest Thing that Ever Happened to Me", a science worksheet, and a report on the colonists of America in his backpack, and all were due sometime in the next week. He was considering asking Angela for more advice when he heard her say, “Aww. What are you doing all alone out here? Come on, come on, come home with me.”
Anthony would have thought she was talking to an injured chipmunk or a homeless baby bird, but the sad fact was, Angela was too hardhearted to care for anyone but herself. But when Anthony caught up to her, even he was surprised to see her stroking and hugging a dollar bill.
When she saw him staring at it, Angela grinned wildly. “Not just any dollar bill,” she gasped. “A hundred
-dollar bill.”


Meanwhile...
Sitting on a tree branch directly over Angela’s head, Maxwell put down his binoculars and sighed. “Fools,” he muttered. “Money gets them all the time.”


“Okay, weirdo,” Angela said. “I’m going to run home before someone tries to take this from me. You make sure no one follows us. Got it?”
“Got it,” Anthony replied, astounded that Angela had entrusted him with responsibility.
“Okay. Here goes,” Angela whispered, and took off running. She hadn't run two steps when a hole opened up underneath her and she fell through. Anthony, who was naturally uncoordinated, followed suite. Neither of them noticed when Maxwell silently dropped into the hole behind them.
“Now look what you've done!” Angela cried staring up at the circle of daylight that was twenty feet above them.
“What did I do? You took the bill and insisted on running! We might have been more careful if we walked!”
Angela slugged him again. Anthony fell silent.
“Now what do we do?” Angela groaned.
Carefully, Anthony searched the dirt wall of the hole with his hands, as it was much too dark to see. Eventually, he found a lever, and he pulled it. A section of the dirt disappeared, revealing a tunnel. Light streamed into the hole.
“What are you waiting for? Come on!” Angela shouted. The two took off running down the well-lit tunnel.
“Hmm... maybe they aren't fools after all,” Maxwell whispered. He carefully followed the two down the passageway.
It turned out that the reason the tunnel was so brightly lit was because of the glowing yellow box at the end of it. It pulsed with a supernatural force.
“I wonder what happens if you flip this switch,” Anthony mused. He tried, but couldn't reach the switch from where he was standing.
“Stand on the box, you idiot,” Angela offered, back to her normal self.
Anthony stepped onto the box, and with the added height boost he could barely reach the switch. He flipped it and promptly disappeared. Angela screamed and backed up right into Maxwell, who turned as white as a ghost and quickly vanished in the same manner that Anthony had.
Angela’s eyes welled up with tears. She was all alone now, in this hole! She would starve! And who was the man who had disappeared? Had he been following them? Angela shuddered. She needed to meet up with her brother, but how? He could be dead, for all she knew. If she followed him, she could die!
Still, she reasoned, it was better to be dead than to be accused of murder. So, hands shaking, Angela stepped onto the box and flipped the switch.

Chapter Two
Anthony opened his eyes. He was standing on another one of the pulsating boxes. However, this time there was no switch or lever. The terrain looked odd- it seemed boxy and unnatural. And something else was seriously wrong...
Anthony tried to walk off of the box, but was unable to. Turning to his left, however, he found that he could walk freely. And them the truth of it hit Anthony like a full-force blow: wherever he was, it was two-dimensional.
Anthony stepped off of the box and began to search for somebody, anybody, that could help him. He needed to get home. This alien world was not meant for him. Maybe if he could get back on the box and flip another switch, he could get home. But there were no switches in sight.
Lost in thought, Anthony didn't realize that he was on a cliff until he was halfway over the edge, and by that time, it was too late to stop. The ground was extremely far away, and Anthony was sure he would die. His life flashed before his eyes. He remembered his sixth birthday party, when he had smashed the cake in his sister’s face. Despite his predicament, he laughed. Then everything went black.
Meanwhile...
“Arrgh! There are green blobs everywhere!” Angela cried, prodding them with a shortsword she had found in her purse.
“They’re called slimes,” Maxwell said helpfully.
“I don’t care what they’re called, you creep!” Angela sobbed. “You made my brother and I fall down a hole and I think I twisted my ankle and then we got on the box-”
“It’s a teleporter.”
“Well, that makes sense. Anyway, we got on the teleporters and we ended up
here!”
“Well, yes, but-”
Suddenly tiny voice whispered into each of their ears, “Anthony fell to his death.”
Angela’s eyes filled with tears, and she punched Maxwell in the stomach. “And now my little brother is dead!” she wailed.

Chapter Three
Anthony woke up lying in a bed of grass. He stretched, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and prepared to get dressed when he realized he was already wearing clothes. In the distance, he could see the mysterious yellow box, and suddenly he remembered where he was. “But I’m supposed to be dead,” he thought to himself. “I know I fell off a cliff. I know landed on a stone surface. So how in Minecraft am I not dead?”
“Stop! Don’t say thatever again!” a strange man yelled. He ran toward Anthony. A young woman who resembled his sister followed him.

“Oh my God, Anthony, you’re alive!” the woman, whom Anthony had realized was Angela, sobbed. She hugged him as hard as she could and planted kisses all over him.
“Wait. Forget the tearful reunion for a second.” the stranger said. He stared Anthony in the face and growled, “Don’t. Ever. Say. That. AGAIN.”
“Don’t ever say what again? And how did you hear me?” Anthony questioned.
“I have good ears,” the man said. Then the man shuddered and whispered, “Minecraft.”
“Where could I possibly be where Minecraft- sorry, the M-word- is bad?”
The man puffed up his chest with pride. “You’re in Terraria.”
“Terra-what?” Angela asked.
“Terraria.”
“Aah.” Anthony said. “And who are you? Did you get stuck in Terraria just like we did? Can you help us get out?”
The stranger laughed. “Maxwell, no, and yes. My name is Maxwell, but if you want, you can call me Max. I did not get ‘stuck’, in your sense of the word, here, although it is difficult to leave. I live here- I’m the guide. And I can help you get out, just like I brought you in. You’re here for a reason, you know.
“Tell us,” Angela encouraged. “I’d like to get home- my mom’s cooking meatloaf for dinner.”

Max laughed. “You don’t get hungry in Terraria,” he said. “And you don’t have to sleep at night either. Speaking of night... you can use your pickaxe to dig through dirt, and your axe to chop down trees.”
“What good does that do us?” asked Angela, fishing her pickaxe out of her purse. Anthony found a rather large- in fact, massive- axe in his backpack.
“You can build a shelter by placing wood or other blocks in the world. Don't forget to create and place walls.”
“Wait a moment... how do we create walls? And what are you trying to get us to do?” Anthony was now pretty suspicious.
“When you have enough wood, create a workbench. This will allow you to create more complicated things, as long as you are standing close to it. And if you want to survive, you will need to create weapons and shelter.”
Quickly, Anthony took his axe and chopped down the nearest trees. Angela did the same. Soon, when they pooled their wood together, they had more than one hundred.
Anthony used ten pieces of his wood to craft a workbench, and when he did, he realized that he could craft tables, chairs, doors, and walls. He crafted a chair, a table, and a door. It used up eighteen wood, and when you added the ten wood he had used for the workbench, he had used twenty-eight wood. He was almost out.
In a clearing, Angela was building the outside of the house. With some of the gel she had from killing slimes earlier that day, she had made twelve torches. After making another door, Anthony dug a six-foot high hole on either side of the house and fitted a door into each one. He then put the table and chair in the house while Angela put torches all over the ceiling. Finally, Anthony and Angela made their extra wood into walls and plastered them into place. Just as they finished, the sun set and zombies began to roam the land.
“Just in time,” Angela puffed.
“So,” Maxwell began, “It’s going to be a long night, because we don’t sleep. So should I tell you why you’re here?
“Yes!” Anthony cried. When Angela agreed, Maxwell began. “Now listen carefully...”

Chapter Four
“Long ago, there was no such thing as ‘bloodshed’ or ‘war’. At least, not among the Terrarians. They live peacefully with each other. Slimes hopped about in my garden, playing happily with bunnies. Some villagers would keep jungle bats as pets, or use skeletons as housekeepers. All was harmony, at least for a while.
“One day, a fine lady named Marshanna had a dispute with her skeleton. Skeletons were treated as slaves, and they were okay with that, as long as they got a few rights. Well, Marshanna was a kindhearted person, and she treated her skeleton as an equal. At first the skeleton was thankful, but eventually he took advantage of Marshanna. Marshanna became a slave to the skeleton. How ironic! Anyway, one day, the skeleton told Marshanna that he wanted some ale. Well, Marshanna was fresh out of ale, so he was about to force Marshanna to walk across town to the brewery when Marshanna finally lost her temper.
“‘Enough is enough!” Marshanna roared. “William (for that was the skeleton’s name), I will treat you as an equal. If this behavior persists, I may treat you as a lesser. But William, you will never, never be my better! Now go to the brewery and get the ale yourself!’
“Marshanna’s words frightened her poor skeleton, and he ran off to get some ale. That night, he presented some of it to Marshanna, to regain her trust. Already she seemed to have forgotten about the incident. But the skeleton had not.
“That night, after Marshanna, had left to meet with some friends for the night (for, as you know, there was no need to fear demon eyes or zombies) and the skeleton had had quite a bit more ale than he should have had, a wacky idea popped into his head. Under the influence of alcohol, he called a secret meeting of all the skeletons. They all immediately agreed with his plan, but, after all, these were kindhearted, well-meaning skeletons who had been mistreated their whole lives and wanted revenge. The skeleton had chosen his army well.
“That night, when Marshanna got home from exploring vast caverns with her friends, she found three dozen skeletons at her door. Before Marshanna could react, the skeleton army picked her up and dragged her away from the village. Nobody dared to help poor Marshanna, because everyone in the village knew that one skeleton took no less than fifteen villagers to overcome it when it became very angry. So Marshanna was carted off by the wayward skeletons, and nobody made any attempt to stop them.
“Marshanna was carried through frozen wastelands, parching deserts, and lush forests until her skeleton stopped his army. He looked around, grinning as best as a skeleton can grin, when he spotted a large pink structure. ‘This is the place, men,’ he instructed his army. ‘Make sure she doesn’t get away. I’ll be back soon.’
“At the time, despite the peace that had settled most of the land, the Dungeon was still corrupt (no, not that kind of corrupt!) and vile. Anything in there would attack without a second thought. Luckily, the Master of the Dungeon was enjoying the moonlight at the entrance, and the skeleton was able to talk to him without putting himself in peril.
“‘ I would like your help,’ the skeleton told the Master of the Dungeon.
“‘Oh, really?’ The Master of the Dungeon asked. ‘And why would that be?’
“‘ I need your help with a curse.’
“‘You want to curse someone?’
“‘Yes. Come with me.’
“So the skeleton led the Master of the Dungeon to the place where Marshanna lay helpless in the hands of the skeletons. ‘Put a curse on her,’ the little skeleton commanded.
“There were only a few more seconds until daylight, so the Master of the Dungeon put a simple curse on poor Marshanna. She would live forever, but she would never leave the dungeon. She would forever bear the pain of the relentless attacks of the Dungeon’s inhabitants.
“One thing Marshanna learned quickly was that the Dungeon was full of traps. Poisoned darts would be shot at everything that triggered the trap. And Marshanna also learned that all of these traps were triggered by wires. Marshanna experimented with the wire and became an expert at manipulating it. This annoyed the Dungeon monsters, however, so they tied her up and left her for dead. The only way to rescue her is to kill the Master of the Dungeon.
“After the incident with Marshanna, the skeleton felt horrible. What had he done? But it was too late to change anything. Overcome by grief, the little skeleton took his army far underground. Their bitter rage came to be so strong that they would attack, just like the foul Dungeon creatures. Eventually, their feelings took form, and formed the corruption. Any unfortunate creature that wandered in here became evil, and their children would be evil, and their children’s children would be evil. By the time a few months ad passed, every creature in the land of Terraria was a mindless attacker.
“If you two want to get home, you will have to find Marshanna. Teleporters use wires, many wires, and Marshanna could help you get home.”
“That was an excellent story,” Angela said politely.
“It’s not just a story,” Maxwell said. “It’s history. If you want to get home, you must find Marshanna. And look- the sun is rising. You should do some mining to find metal ore. You can craft very useful things with it."
As the two left to explore a cave system, both were wondering the same thing- was Maxwell’s story true? Could they defeat the Master of the Dungeon? Would they ever get home?

Chapter Five
After wandering around for a while, Anthony and Angela came upon a large hole in the side of a hill. It was pitch-black inside, and both Anthony and his sister were worried that they might never find their way out.
“We could always leave a trail of torches,” Anthony suggested.
“I’m fresh out of torches,” Angela sighed glumly.
Suddenly, a pink blobb jumped off the hill and landed on Anthony’s head. “Ow!” he cried. “It hurts! Get it away from me!”
Angela stabbed the slime with her copper shortsword. It jumped off of Anthony’s head and chased Angela. She stabbed it a few more times and it died, leaving before more gel and a gold coin.
After chopping down a tree to gather more wood and lighting it on fire to make torches, Angela inspected the gold coin. “This must be worth a lot,” she mused, admiring how the sun reflected off its perfectly round edge.
“Hey,” Anthony said, bringing Angela out of her trance, “What was that thing that attacked me?”
“Oh,” Angela thought for a moment. “That looked like a slime of some sort. It was particularly powerful, but it gave good rewards.”
“A slime?” Anthony asked.
“Yep. A slime. Maxwell taught me about them. They give you money, and sometimes gel. It tastes good, though it has no nutritional value, and it’s highly flammable.”
“Coins taste good?”
“No, gel. Let’s get some more.”
Anthony and Angela ruthlessly stabbed slimes with their copper shortswords until together they had enough gel for each of them to have a full stack of torches. Then, they dropped into the hole and began to explore.
Before they had gone very far, the path split into two. A brief conversation decided that Angela would continue to explore to the right while Anthony would go left.
Anthony was the first to find treasure. A bright red crystal that seemed to be shaped like a heart sat at the bottom of a deep lake. He remembered from Maxwell’s incessant chatter that these crystals would allow you to live longer, so he took a deep breath and jumped into the lake.
The water felt cool and refreshing against Anthony’s sweaty skin, and he savored the feeling until he reached the bottom. Once there, he freed the heart with his pickaxe and tried to swim back up. But he couldn’t. It was only then that he remembered Maxwell telling him not to try to swim. He sighed, and everything went black.


A tiny voice whispered, “Anthony has drowned.” But Angela wasn’t worried. She knew that Anthony would reappear back at home and continue exploring. Besides, if she dug a little further, she’d be able to open a chest. Just a little bit more... yes! Angela reached the chest and opened it. Inside was a night owl potion, seventy silver coins, an angel statue, seventeen torches, and a mirror.
Angela examined the mirror. It seemed ...odd. She stared at her reflection for a moment, studying her face, which was smudged with dirt. Just as she resolved to continue exploring, however, her reflection became warped and the cave vanished. Instead, she was standing not twenty feet from her house. It was very dark, she noticed. Time sure flies when you're underground.
Suddenly, Anthony sprinted out of the house where evidently he had been chatting with Maxwell since his death. "Hurry!" he called. "Get inside!"
"Why?" asked Angela, clearly confused.
"It's almost night!"
Angela had just slammed the for against a hoard of slimes when zombies started pounding on the door.
"Wow," Anthony breathed. "That was close!"
It was only then that they realized that Maxwell was still outside.

Chapter Six
"Wait a second,"Angela mused. "If you were talking to Maxwell, how come he's outside?"
"Well, I was talking to him," Anthony protested. "But he noticed how late it was and went to find you. I waited here."
Angela signed. Then, copper shortsword at the ready, she opened the door and left to rescue Maxwell.
Not fifteen minutes after she had left, the whispery voice reported that Angela had been impaled by a zombie. It also reported that it had been working way overtime for the last two days and was going to take a well-deserved break, thank you very much.
Maxwell chose that exact moment to walk in through the door, a little bruised but otherwise none the worse for wear. Anthony had to resist the urge to punch him.
"What?" Maxwell asked, wearing his best innocent face.
Angela burst through the door and slammed it shut behind her. "I can't find him anywhere!" she cried breathlessly. "I'm afraid... oh." Her gaze fell on Maxwell and her words stopped almost as quickly as Anthony had drowned. "How long has he been here?"
"He just got here," Anthony replied, giving Maxwell a distasteful stare.
"What?" Maxwell repeated.
After resolving to ignore him for the rest of the night, Anthony turned to Angela. "Do you still have that gold coin?"
Angela searched her pockets, then turned pale. "I can't find it," she moaned. "I must have lost it when I died."
Maxwell piped up. "I forgot to tell you," he called. "You lose half your money when you die."
Angela rolled her eyes. "Thanks a lot. What other useless information do you have for us, genius?"
"Well, I could tell you how to make armor so you would die less often, but you obviously don't want to hear."
"Fine," Angela gave in. "Tell us. But don't expect us to thank you or anything."
"Well, first you need to pile together everything you collected from mining," Maxwell instructed. "Then I'll tell you what you can craft."
After a long and exhausting day of mining, Angela and Anthony had 252 pieces of gold ore, 172 pieces of iron ore, 220 pieces of silver ore, one heart-shaped crystal, a chest that appeared to be made of pure gold, eighteen blinkroots, two orange bloodroots, a teal mushroom, two hooks, twenty-seven strange-looking blue mushrooms, a mirror, a Night Owl Potion, an angel statue, thirty-four torches, five bright red potions, and a good amount of dirt, stone, clay, and spiderwebs.
The sheer mass of all that had been collected had not quite hit Anthony while he was underground. "Wow," he breathed. "We had a successful mining trip."
Maxwell studied the crystal with interest. "Who found this?" he asked.
"I did," both siblings said at the same time.
Anthony wasn't surprised. Angela was slowly reverting to her old ways. If it took a near-death experience to get her to show even some compassion, it couldn't be expected to stay long.
"No, I did," Angela and Anthony repeated simultaneously.
"Well, if you two can't decide who gets it, I guess I'll eat it." Maxwell prepared to swallow the crystal when Angela, without thinking cried "Wait! First tell us how to get them!"
Maxwell smiled and handed the crystal to Anthony, who devoured it as if he hasn't eaten in a week. Angela was enraged.
"What was that for?" she screamed at Maxwell.
Maxwell replied, "If you had found the crystal, you would know how to get it. By the way, they are commonly found underground. Now, let's do some crafting."
Maxwell examined their stockpile of materials. He counted out twenty fragments of rock and put them in a pile. He then added torches and pieces of wood. Maxwell gave the pile to Anthony and told him to use the workbench to make a furnace. While Anthony set off to take on his task, Maxwell leaned closer to Angela and asked, "Why did you say the crystal was yours?"
Angela was not expecting this. "Uh... um..." She fidgeted around in her chair.
"It's okay," Maxwell consoled her. "No one will be angry. It's common for people to get jealous of other people with better gear."
"Me? Jealous? Never," Angela said, laughing nervously. "It's just that..."
At this moment, Anthony reappeared, staggering under the weight of the furnace. He dropped it on the floor with a thud and asked brightly, "What do I do now?"
Maxwell handed Anthony all of the ores that had been mined that day. "Go smelt these into bars," he instructed Anthony.
Anthony was perplexed. "Where?" he asked.
"The furnace," Maxwell said, a hint of annoyance tainting his normally pleasant voice.
Always eager to please, Anthony lit a fire in the furnace and set to work. Meanwhile, Maxwell abandoned his conversation with Angela, leaving her to stew silently in a corner.
In a couple of minutes, Anthony had come up with gold bars, silver bars, and iron bars. Maxwell studied them intently.
"You have enough gold for a breastplate and a helmet," Maxwell calculated, "and enough silver for a set of greaves and a helmet, and enough iron for a breastplate and greaves, with three gold bars, five silver bars, and nine iron bars left over. Who will take what?"
Angela immediately claimed the gold breastplate and helmet and the silver greaves, but Maxwell laughed and told her that that wasn't how it worked. He then gave Angela enough gold for the breastplate, enough silver for the greaves, and enough iron for a helmet. He was about to distribute Anthony's share when he slapped himself, called himself stupid, and cried, "I forgot! We need an anvil. Luckily, it seems that we have enough iron."
"What's an anvil?" Angela asked.
Maxwell was about to answer, but Anthony spoke up first. "I remember seeing one at the old blacksmith shop, at the museum. You use it to shape metals."
Maxwell smiled. "Exactly!" he cried. "What's a blacksmith?"
"A person who-oh, never mind. The question is, how do we make an anvil?"
"You need eight iron bars," Maxwell instructed. Without hesitation, Angela grabbed all of the iron and ran to the furnace.
"You don't need all that iron," called Anthony.
Maxwell patted his back gently. "Leave her be," he told Anthony. "She'll figure it out."

Chapter Seven
Angela returned a few minutes later, with an armful of iron. Anthony winced.
"She's going to kill herself doing that!" he whispered to Maxwell.
However, before Maxwell could reply, Angela dropped the entire stack of iron bars and the anvil on her foot.
"Told you," murmured Anthony.
Angela stood still for a moment, then pulled her foot out of the pile of wreckage and took off her shoe. It was already beginning to swell.
"Are you okay?" asked Maxwell.
"Yes," Angela gasped. She began to hobble towards the table and collapsed in what had previously been Maxwell's chair.
"Are you sure?"
"Well, to be fair, I think I broke it. But I can still go mining and-"
"You're not going anywhere," Maxwell said firmly. "And Anthony, neither are you."
"But... but... don't we need more stuff? Like, more mirrors and potions and coins?" Anthony protested.
"Actually, you probably do," Maxwell admitted. "But you need to build houses so more people will come to live with us."
"Wait," Angela interrupted. "You mean, we're not completely stranded in the middle of nowhere?"
"If your definition of not being in the middle of nowhere is having a random guy selling useless stuff come by and taking advantage of your hard labor by settling in a house that you built, you are absolutely correct," Maxwell stated flatly.
Not picking up on his sarcasm, Anthony pumped his fist into the air. "We're gonna be rich!" he shouted. "We're gonna build houses and attract other people and keep them safe from zombies and they'll give us anything we want!"
"I... I don't think that's the way it works," Angela said.
"I know."
"Then why'd you-"
"Shut up."
"If you two are done arguing, I think we have some building to do," Maxwell called from the corner. "I mean, it's fine if you don't want to take my advice and all, but you won't get very far without it."
"Yes, sir," Anthony murmured weakly. He left the tiny cabin and, a few minutes later, Maxwell and Angela could hear him brutally attacking trees.
"So," Maxwell turned to Angela. "Why'd you say that heart-"
"I REALLY don't want to have this conversation right now," Angela interrupted.
"Okay, so, why'd you take all that iron-"
"Can't you just tell me what to do and leave me in peace?"
"Just... make whatever you can. Let me know if you need help. I'll be outside so I don't annoy you."
"Wait, Maxwell, I-"
"I can't hear you!"
"Maxwell, come-"
"La, la, la, not listening, la, la, la!"
Angela gave up. She sighed in exasperation and cried, to no one in particular, "I can't craft things if I can't walk to the crafting stations!"

Chapter Eight
"Take that, tree!" Maxwell cried as he drive his axe into the trunk of one of the many trees near the house. The tree groaned, then have a shudder and exploded into twenty-eight logs. Anthony collected them and shoved them into his satchel.
He was about to move on to the next tree when he heard shouting from the house. He went over to investigate and pressed his ear to the door. It was eavesdropping, he knew, but what if Angela was planning to explore without him?
"-REALLY don't want to have this conversation right now," Angela was saying.
'Okay, so, why'd you take all that iron-"
"Can't you just tell me what to do and leave me in peace?"
"Just... make whatever you can. Let me know if you need help. I'll be outside so I don't annoy you."
Upon hearing this, Anthony quickly stepped away from the for and lifted his axe. Maxwell opened the door just as he prepared to strike another tree.
"Wait, Maxwell, I-"
"I can't hear you!"
"Maxwell, come-"
"La, la, la, not listening, la, la, la!"
Anthony's mind raced. Why was Maxwell acting like this? He had known that Angela would be in no state to craft. Yet he was forcing her to create armor, weapons, and furniture. He had given her no instructions and, what was more, she could easily hurt herself. Making up his mind, Anthony put away his axe and slowly approached Maxwell, who was leaving against the house and muttering to himself.
"-and then, maybe, we can get rid of- Anthony, what do you want?" he asked.
Under Maxwell's steely gaze, Anthony became nervous. "Um, could I, you know, go in and help Angela? I've got plenty of wood and it's barely, uh, noon."
Neither of these statements were true. Only twenty-eight pieces of wood rested in Anthony's satchel, and the sun was rapidly sinking into the western sky.
Maxwell noticed these things as well, and said, "Of course you can. But the sun, contrary to your beliefs, seems to be falling. You could visit Angela, but then you'd never finish the house. And if you complete a house, there's a chance a nurse might come. She could help your sister."
"Well, I guess that makes sense." Anthony admitted.
"Good. Now go ahead. Hurry. The house needs to be finished by dark."

Meanwhile...

An agonizing pain shot through Angela's right foot. Grimacing, she lifted it and the pain dulled. Leaning on the bit of wood that served as a makeshift crutch, Angela took another painful step forward.
It had been this way for the whole day. Ever since Maxwell had abandoned her to make rhyme and reason out of the giant pile of materials, Angela had been making steady but slow and painful progress. She had no idea what time it was, but reasoned that it had to be close to night. After all, she has been here for hours. Or at least it seemed that way.
By now, she has two golden pieces of armor, one silver piece, two grappling hooks, and a bed. Maxwell would be impressed.
But her achievements had come with a price. Her foot was extremely painful, and it was an ugly red. She had stumbled and fallen several times. Angela would have given all the gold in the world for an hour in the new bed.
At this moment, Anthony burst through the door with an armload of wood, followed by Maxwell.
"Is it night yet?" Angela asked hopefully.
"Almost," Maxwell said gently. "Anthony just needs to finish the house because -"
"Maybe then a nurse will come and help you!" Anthony finished.
Angela was skeptical. "How will a nurse find us out here?" she asked. "And why a nurse? Why not just a businessman or banker?"
"You clearly don't quite understand how Terraria works." Maxwell sighed. "But, if we hurry, we can still finish the house by nightfall."
With that, Maxwell, Anthony, and the newly created wooden furniture left.

Angela decided to take a break. After Maxwell and Angela left, she has crafted the last silver piece and one of the iron ones. Anthony and Maxwell would be elated. She wasn't, though. Sure, the armor was very strong and sure to help them survive, but it didn't seem worth a broken foot. And Angela was pretty sure the hard work had only make it worse. It was throbbing like crazy now, and was turning from an angry red to a sickly purple. Angela decided that she wouldn't put any more weight on it until the nurse came.
Speaking of which, Angela noticed, she heard the dull thumping of Anthony's hammer. He was putting walls in. The house would be done soon.
After a couple of minutes, the hammering stopped. The new house was finished. Angela waited eagerly for the whispery voice to tell her that a nurse had arrived.
It never did.
A couple of minutes later, Maxwell and Anthony slowly entered the room. "It's too late," Anthony said softly. "It's night now. The nurse won't come today."

Maxwell could tell that Angela was crestfallen. He could also tell that Anthony could tell. Maxwell felt almost sorry for them. Almost. He couldn't let soft feelings get the better of him, he reminded himself.
Everything was going according to plan. A few weeks and they would be gone.
Sometimes Maxwell wondered why the boss made him bring all these innocent people to lands that would be completely alien to them, only to exterminate then later. He never thought about it long, though. The boss had to have his reasons.
Those reasons would be the death of Angela and Anthony.
Not the illusion of death, a temporary unconsciousness that came when your strength was drained. Real death, cold and black, it's icy fingers gripping at one's heart.
He wondered if Anthony or Angela had experienced it before. After all, it was possible to die inside, but still keep living.
It didn't matter. They would find out first-hand soon enough.
 
If you're an old TO member, you may have seen this story before, but I'm going to post it anyway, for the benefit of any new members.

Summary: Two teenagers are accidentally teleported into Terraria, where they must save a hostage who is being held in the Dungeon to get back home. But there are things the friendly NPC's aren't telling them...

Prologue
Anthony McCrowley woke up and stretched. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, the birds were singing, and the smell of blueberry pancakes wafted up from the kitchen. Anthony should have been excited- it was his first day of high school, after all. He wasn't.
Groggily stumbling down to the kitchen, Anthony ran the day’s challenges through his head. It would be the first time his overprotective parents would let him walk to school alone. Anthony also knew for a fact that Mrs. Faulkner was to be his math teacher. Mrs. Faulkner was the kind of teacher with the memory of an elephant and the pride of a lion, so she had held a deep grudge against the McCrowleys after Anthony’s older sister, Angela, proved that Mrs. Faulkner had done an algebra problem incorrectly.

Angela McCrowley. The very words sent shivers down Anthony’s spine. In the eyes of her parents, Joseph and Rebecca McCrowley, Angela was a perfect angel. But remove Joseph and Rebecca for two minutes and she underwent a horrifying transformation. Rather than the perfect angel she had been a few seconds ago, she was now a demon, the likes of Hell itself. It seemed like Angela’s favorite thing to do in the world was to torture poor Anthony. And it was nearly impossible to stop her.
Meanwhile, oblivious to her son’s worries, Rebecca McCrowley set about preparing breakfast. Within a minute, she had set a steaming plate of pancakes in front of each child. “Dig in!” she encouraged. “Don’t want to be late for the first day of school!”
“Sure don’t, mommy,” Angela replied. A sickening smile spread across her face and her voice dripped with sarcasm.
Of course, Rebecca ate it up and came back for seconds. “ You’re going to make tons of new friends, right?”
“Of course, mommy.”
“And you’ll do your best, no matter what’s thrown at you?”
“Definitely, mommy.”
Anthony sighed disgustedly. Why couldn't his mother see what lay behind the thin curtain of perfection?
Suddenly, Joseph spoke up for the first time all morning. “Anthony?” he asked. “Angela? Your mother would like to speak to you.”
“Oh, yeah,” Rebecca remembered. “Anthony, we know you’re growing up and getting more independent, but we thought that since you’ll be new at Riverside High, it would be a good idea for Angela to walk with you on your first day.”
There was a pause. Then Anthony and Angela simultaneously shouted, “WHAT!?!”
“Is there a problem?” asked Joseph.
“No. There is no problem,” Angela seethed. She glared at Anthony with a stare of pure hatred.
“Well, then, look at the time!” Rebecca called cheerfully, trying to break the deadly silence. “You two should be getting ready to leave- you don’t want to be late!

Chapter One
The walk to high school with Angela was the most painful fifteen minutes of Anthony’s life. The walk back was even worse.
Acting on her parent’s orders, Angela gave Anthony some advice. Her three words of wisdom about high school to were “Don’t raise your hand, don’t draw attention to yourself, and NEVER say you have to use the bathroom out loud. Oh, yeah, and skip Mrs. Faulkner’s class.”
“That was four things!” Anthony protested. Angela slugged him.
“And don’t say anything smart-aleky,” she said as she began to run to the school.
By the end of the day, Anthony had broken all five of Angela’s rules, and was now a social outcast. Angela , of course, knew all about it, and made sure to stay a full block ahead of Anthony, while occasionally glancing over her shoulder and giving Anthony the foulest of stares.
Anthony, of course, had other things to worry about. Already he had two algebra worksheets, a book report, a writing assignment entitled "The Coolest Thing that Ever Happened to Me", a science worksheet, and a report on the colonists of America in his backpack, and all were due sometime in the next week. He was considering asking Angela for more advice when he heard her say, “Aww. What are you doing all alone out here? Come on, come on, come home with me.”
Anthony would have thought she was talking to an injured chipmunk or a homeless baby bird, but the sad fact was, Angela was too hardhearted to care for anyone but herself. But when Anthony caught up to her, even he was surprised to see her stroking and hugging a dollar bill.
When she saw him staring at it, Angela grinned wildly. “Not just any dollar bill,” she gasped. “A hundred
-dollar bill.”


Meanwhile...
Sitting on a tree branch directly over Angela’s head, Maxwell put down his binoculars and sighed. “Fools,” he muttered. “Money gets them all the time.”


“Okay, weirdo,” Angela said. “I’m going to run home before someone tries to take this from me. You make sure no one follows us. Got it?”
“Got it,” Anthony replied, astounded that Angela had entrusted him with responsibility.
“Okay. Here goes,” Angela whispered, and took off running. She hadn't run two steps when a hole opened up underneath her and she fell through. Anthony, who was naturally uncoordinated, followed suite. Neither of them noticed when Maxwell silently dropped into the hole behind them.
“Now look what you've done!” Angela cried staring up at the circle of daylight that was twenty feet above them.
“What did I do? You took the bill and insisted on running! We might have been more careful if we walked!”
Angela slugged him again. Anthony fell silent.
“Now what do we do?” Angela groaned.
Carefully, Anthony searched the dirt wall of the hole with his hands, as it was much too dark to see. Eventually, he found a lever, and he pulled it. A section of the dirt disappeared, revealing a tunnel. Light streamed into the hole.
“What are you waiting for? Come on!” Angela shouted. The two took off running down the well-lit tunnel.
“Hmm... maybe they aren't fools after all,” Maxwell whispered. He carefully followed the two down the passageway.
It turned out that the reason the tunnel was so brightly lit was because of the glowing yellow box at the end of it. It pulsed with a supernatural force.
“I wonder what happens if you flip this switch,” Anthony mused. He tried, but couldn't reach the switch from where he was standing.
“Stand on the box, you idiot,” Angela offered, back to her normal self.
Anthony stepped onto the box, and with the added height boost he could barely reach the switch. He flipped it and promptly disappeared. Angela screamed and backed up right into Maxwell, who turned as white as a ghost and quickly vanished in the same manner that Anthony had.
Angela’s eyes welled up with tears. She was all alone now, in this hole! She would starve! And who was the man who had disappeared? Had he been following them? Angela shuddered. She needed to meet up with her brother, but how? He could be dead, for all she knew. If she followed him, she could die!
Still, she reasoned, it was better to be dead than to be accused of murder. So, hands shaking, Angela stepped onto the box and flipped the switch.

Chapter Two
Anthony opened his eyes. He was standing on another one of the pulsating boxes. However, this time there was no switch or lever. The terrain looked odd- it seemed boxy and unnatural. And something else was seriously wrong...
Anthony tried to walk off of the box, but was unable to. Turning to his left, however, he found that he could walk freely. And them the truth of it hit Anthony like a full-force blow: wherever he was, it was two-dimensional.
Anthony stepped off of the box and began to search for somebody, anybody, that could help him. He needed to get home. This alien world was not meant for him. Maybe if he could get back on the box and flip another switch, he could get home. But there were no switches in sight.
Lost in thought, Anthony didn't realize that he was on a cliff until he was halfway over the edge, and by that time, it was too late to stop. The ground was extremely far away, and Anthony was sure he would die. His life flashed before his eyes. He remembered his sixth birthday party, when he had smashed the cake in his sister’s face. Despite his predicament, he laughed. Then everything went black.
Meanwhile...
“Arrgh! There are green blobs everywhere!” Angela cried, prodding them with a shortsword she had found in her purse.
“They’re called slimes,” Maxwell said helpfully.
“I don’t care what they’re called, you creep!” Angela sobbed. “You made my brother and I fall down a hole and I think I twisted my ankle and then we got on the box-”
“It’s a teleporter.”
“Well, that makes sense. Anyway, we got on the teleporters and we ended up
here!”
“Well, yes, but-”
Suddenly tiny voice whispered into each of their ears, “Anthony fell to his death.”
Angela’s eyes filled with tears, and she punched Maxwell in the stomach. “And now my little brother is dead!” she wailed.

Chapter Three
Anthony woke up lying in a bed of grass. He stretched, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and prepared to get dressed when he realized he was already wearing clothes. In the distance, he could see the mysterious yellow box, and suddenly he remembered where he was. “But I’m supposed to be dead,” he thought to himself. “I know I fell off a cliff. I know landed on a stone surface. So how in Minecraft am I not dead?”
“Stop! Don’t say thatever again!” a strange man yelled. He ran toward Anthony. A young woman who resembled his sister followed him.

“Oh my God, Anthony, you’re alive!” the woman, whom Anthony had realized was Angela, sobbed. She hugged him as hard as she could and planted kisses all over him.
“Wait. Forget the tearful reunion for a second.” the stranger said. He stared Anthony in the face and growled, “Don’t. Ever. Say. That. AGAIN.”
“Don’t ever say what again? And how did you hear me?” Anthony questioned.
“I have good ears,” the man said. Then the man shuddered and whispered, “Minecraft.”
“Where could I possibly be where Minecraft- sorry, the M-word- is bad?”
The man puffed up his chest with pride. “You’re in Terraria.”
“Terra-what?” Angela asked.
“Terraria.”
“Aah.” Anthony said. “And who are you? Did you get stuck in Terraria just like we did? Can you help us get out?”
The stranger laughed. “Maxwell, no, and yes. My name is Maxwell, but if you want, you can call me Max. I did not get ‘stuck’, in your sense of the word, here, although it is difficult to leave. I live here- I’m the guide. And I can help you get out, just like I brought you in. You’re here for a reason, you know.
“Tell us,” Angela encouraged. “I’d like to get home- my mom’s cooking meatloaf for dinner.”

Max laughed. “You don’t get hungry in Terraria,” he said. “And you don’t have to sleep at night either. Speaking of night... you can use your pickaxe to dig through dirt, and your axe to chop down trees.”
“What good does that do us?” asked Angela, fishing her pickaxe out of her purse. Anthony found a rather large- in fact, massive- axe in his backpack.
“You can build a shelter by placing wood or other blocks in the world. Don't forget to create and place walls.”
“Wait a moment... how do we create walls? And what are you trying to get us to do?” Anthony was now pretty suspicious.
“When you have enough wood, create a workbench. This will allow you to create more complicated things, as long as you are standing close to it. And if you want to survive, you will need to create weapons and shelter.”
Quickly, Anthony took his axe and chopped down the nearest trees. Angela did the same. Soon, when they pooled their wood together, they had more than one hundred.
Anthony used ten pieces of his wood to craft a workbench, and when he did, he realized that he could craft tables, chairs, doors, and walls. He crafted a chair, a table, and a door. It used up eighteen wood, and when you added the ten wood he had used for the workbench, he had used twenty-eight wood. He was almost out.
In a clearing, Angela was building the outside of the house. With some of the gel she had from killing slimes earlier that day, she had made twelve torches. After making another door, Anthony dug a six-foot high hole on either side of the house and fitted a door into each one. He then put the table and chair in the house while Angela put torches all over the ceiling. Finally, Anthony and Angela made their extra wood into walls and plastered them into place. Just as they finished, the sun set and zombies began to roam the land.
“Just in time,” Angela puffed.
“So,” Maxwell began, “It’s going to be a long night, because we don’t sleep. So should I tell you why you’re here?
“Yes!” Anthony cried. When Angela agreed, Maxwell began. “Now listen carefully...”

Chapter Four
“Long ago, there was no such thing as ‘bloodshed’ or ‘war’. At least, not among the Terrarians. They live peacefully with each other. Slimes hopped about in my garden, playing happily with bunnies. Some villagers would keep jungle bats as pets, or use skeletons as housekeepers. All was harmony, at least for a while.
“One day, a fine lady named Marshanna had a dispute with her skeleton. Skeletons were treated as slaves, and they were okay with that, as long as they got a few rights. Well, Marshanna was a kindhearted person, and she treated her skeleton as an equal. At first the skeleton was thankful, but eventually he took advantage of Marshanna. Marshanna became a slave to the skeleton. How ironic! Anyway, one day, the skeleton told Marshanna that he wanted some ale. Well, Marshanna was fresh out of ale, so he was about to force Marshanna to walk across town to the brewery when Marshanna finally lost her temper.
“‘Enough is enough!” Marshanna roared. “William (for that was the skeleton’s name), I will treat you as an equal. If this behavior persists, I may treat you as a lesser. But William, you will never, never be my better! Now go to the brewery and get the ale yourself!’
“Marshanna’s words frightened her poor skeleton, and he ran off to get some ale. That night, he presented some of it to Marshanna, to regain her trust. Already she seemed to have forgotten about the incident. But the skeleton had not.
“That night, after Marshanna, had left to meet with some friends for the night (for, as you know, there was no need to fear demon eyes or zombies) and the skeleton had had quite a bit more ale than he should have had, a wacky idea popped into his head. Under the influence of alcohol, he called a secret meeting of all the skeletons. They all immediately agreed with his plan, but, after all, these were kindhearted, well-meaning skeletons who had been mistreated their whole lives and wanted revenge. The skeleton had chosen his army well.
“That night, when Marshanna got home from exploring vast caverns with her friends, she found three dozen skeletons at her door. Before Marshanna could react, the skeleton army picked her up and dragged her away from the village. Nobody dared to help poor Marshanna, because everyone in the village knew that one skeleton took no less than fifteen villagers to overcome it when it became very angry. So Marshanna was carted off by the wayward skeletons, and nobody made any attempt to stop them.
“Marshanna was carried through frozen wastelands, parching deserts, and lush forests until her skeleton stopped his army. He looked around, grinning as best as a skeleton can grin, when he spotted a large pink structure. ‘This is the place, men,’ he instructed his army. ‘Make sure she doesn’t get away. I’ll be back soon.’
“At the time, despite the peace that had settled most of the land, the Dungeon was still corrupt (no, not that kind of corrupt!) and vile. Anything in there would attack without a second thought. Luckily, the Master of the Dungeon was enjoying the moonlight at the entrance, and the skeleton was able to talk to him without putting himself in peril.
“‘ I would like your help,’ the skeleton told the Master of the Dungeon.
“‘Oh, really?’ The Master of the Dungeon asked. ‘And why would that be?’
“‘ I need your help with a curse.’
“‘You want to curse someone?’
“‘Yes. Come with me.’
“So the skeleton led the Master of the Dungeon to the place where Marshanna lay helpless in the hands of the skeletons. ‘Put a curse on her,’ the little skeleton commanded.
“There were only a few more seconds until daylight, so the Master of the Dungeon put a simple curse on poor Marshanna. She would live forever, but she would never leave the dungeon. She would forever bear the pain of the relentless attacks of the Dungeon’s inhabitants.
“One thing Marshanna learned quickly was that the Dungeon was full of traps. Poisoned darts would be shot at everything that triggered the trap. And Marshanna also learned that all of these traps were triggered by wires. Marshanna experimented with the wire and became an expert at manipulating it. This annoyed the Dungeon monsters, however, so they tied her up and left her for dead. The only way to rescue her is to kill the Master of the Dungeon.
“After the incident with Marshanna, the skeleton felt horrible. What had he done? But it was too late to change anything. Overcome by grief, the little skeleton took his army far underground. Their bitter rage came to be so strong that they would attack, just like the foul Dungeon creatures. Eventually, their feelings took form, and formed the corruption. Any unfortunate creature that wandered in here became evil, and their children would be evil, and their children’s children would be evil. By the time a few months ad passed, every creature in the land of Terraria was a mindless attacker.
“If you two want to get home, you will have to find Marshanna. Teleporters use wires, many wires, and Marshanna could help you get home.”
“That was an excellent story,” Angela said politely.
“It’s not just a story,” Maxwell said. “It’s history. If you want to get home, you must find Marshanna. And look- the sun is rising. You should do some mining to find metal ore. You can craft very useful things with it."
As the two left to explore a cave system, both were wondering the same thing- was Maxwell’s story true? Could they defeat the Master of the Dungeon? Would they ever get home?

Chapter Five
After wandering around for a while, Anthony and Angela came upon a large hole in the side of a hill. It was pitch-black inside, and both Anthony and his sister were worried that they might never find their way out.
“We could always leave a trail of torches,” Anthony suggested.
“I’m fresh out of torches,” Angela sighed glumly.
Suddenly, a pink blobb jumped off the hill and landed on Anthony’s head. “Ow!” he cried. “It hurts! Get it away from me!”
Angela stabbed the slime with her copper shortsword. It jumped off of Anthony’s head and chased Angela. She stabbed it a few more times and it died, leaving before more gel and a gold coin.
After chopping down a tree to gather more wood and lighting it on fire to make torches, Angela inspected the gold coin. “This must be worth a lot,” she mused, admiring how the sun reflected off its perfectly round edge.
“Hey,” Anthony said, bringing Angela out of her trance, “What was that thing that attacked me?”
“Oh,” Angela thought for a moment. “That looked like a slime of some sort. It was particularly powerful, but it gave good rewards.”
“A slime?” Anthony asked.
“Yep. A slime. Maxwell taught me about them. They give you money, and sometimes gel. It tastes good, though it has no nutritional value, and it’s highly flammable.”
“Coins taste good?”
“No, gel. Let’s get some more.”
Anthony and Angela ruthlessly stabbed slimes with their copper shortswords until together they had enough gel for each of them to have a full stack of torches. Then, they dropped into the hole and began to explore.
Before they had gone very far, the path split into two. A brief conversation decided that Angela would continue to explore to the right while Anthony would go left.
Anthony was the first to find treasure. A bright red crystal that seemed to be shaped like a heart sat at the bottom of a deep lake. He remembered from Maxwell’s incessant chatter that these crystals would allow you to live longer, so he took a deep breath and jumped into the lake.
The water felt cool and refreshing against Anthony’s sweaty skin, and he savored the feeling until he reached the bottom. Once there, he freed the heart with his pickaxe and tried to swim back up. But he couldn’t. It was only then that he remembered Maxwell telling him not to try to swim. He sighed, and everything went black.


A tiny voice whispered, “Anthony has drowned.” But Angela wasn’t worried. She knew that Anthony would reappear back at home and continue exploring. Besides, if she dug a little further, she’d be able to open a chest. Just a little bit more... yes! Angela reached the chest and opened it. Inside was a night owl potion, seventy silver coins, an angel statue, seventeen torches, and a mirror.
Angela examined the mirror. It seemed ...odd. She stared at her reflection for a moment, studying her face, which was smudged with dirt. Just as she resolved to continue exploring, however, her reflection became warped and the cave vanished. Instead, she was standing not twenty feet from her house. It was very dark, she noticed. Time sure flies when you're underground.
Suddenly, Anthony sprinted out of the house where evidently he had been chatting with Maxwell since his death. "Hurry!" he called. "Get inside!"
"Why?" asked Angela, clearly confused.
"It's almost night!"
Angela had just slammed the for against a hoard of slimes when zombies started pounding on the door.
"Wow," Anthony breathed. "That was close!"
It was only then that they realized that Maxwell was still outside.

Chapter Six
"Wait a second,"Angela mused. "If you were talking to Maxwell, how come he's outside?"
"Well, I was talking to him," Anthony protested. "But he noticed how late it was and went to find you. I waited here."
Angela signed. Then, copper shortsword at the ready, she opened the door and left to rescue Maxwell.
Not fifteen minutes after she had left, the whispery voice reported that Angela had been impaled by a zombie. It also reported that it had been working way overtime for the last two days and was going to take a well-deserved break, thank you very much.
Maxwell chose that exact moment to walk in through the door, a little bruised but otherwise none the worse for wear. Anthony had to resist the urge to punch him.
"What?" Maxwell asked, wearing his best innocent face.
Angela burst through the door and slammed it shut behind her. "I can't find him anywhere!" she cried breathlessly. "I'm afraid... oh." Her gaze fell on Maxwell and her words stopped almost as quickly as Anthony had drowned. "How long has he been here?"
"He just got here," Anthony replied, giving Maxwell a distasteful stare.
"What?" Maxwell repeated.
After resolving to ignore him for the rest of the night, Anthony turned to Angela. "Do you still have that gold coin?"
Angela searched her pockets, then turned pale. "I can't find it," she moaned. "I must have lost it when I died."
Maxwell piped up. "I forgot to tell you," he called. "You lose half your money when you die."
Angela rolled her eyes. "Thanks a lot. What other useless information do you have for us, genius?"
"Well, I could tell you how to make armor so you would die less often, but you obviously don't want to hear."
"Fine," Angela gave in. "Tell us. But don't expect us to thank you or anything."
"Well, first you need to pile together everything you collected from mining," Maxwell instructed. "Then I'll tell you what you can craft."
After a long and exhausting day of mining, Angela and Anthony had 252 pieces of gold ore, 172 pieces of iron ore, 220 pieces of silver ore, one heart-shaped crystal, a chest that appeared to be made of pure gold, eighteen blinkroots, two orange bloodroots, a teal mushroom, two hooks, twenty-seven strange-looking blue mushrooms, a mirror, a Night Owl Potion, an angel statue, thirty-four torches, five bright red potions, and a good amount of dirt, stone, clay, and spiderwebs.
The sheer mass of all that had been collected had not quite hit Anthony while he was underground. "Wow," he breathed. "We had a successful mining trip."
Maxwell studied the crystal with interest. "Who found this?" he asked.
"I did," both siblings said at the same time.
Anthony wasn't surprised. Angela was slowly reverting to her old ways. If it took a near-death experience to get her to show even some compassion, it couldn't be expected to stay long.
"No, I did," Angela and Anthony repeated simultaneously.
"Well, if you two can't decide who gets it, I guess I'll eat it." Maxwell prepared to swallow the crystal when Angela, without thinking cried "Wait! First tell us how to get them!"
Maxwell smiled and handed the crystal to Anthony, who devoured it as if he hasn't eaten in a week. Angela was enraged.
"What was that for?" she screamed at Maxwell.
Maxwell replied, "If you had found the crystal, you would know how to get it. By the way, they are commonly found underground. Now, let's do some crafting."
Maxwell examined their stockpile of materials. He counted out twenty fragments of rock and put them in a pile. He then added torches and pieces of wood. Maxwell gave the pile to Anthony and told him to use the workbench to make a furnace. While Anthony set off to take on his task, Maxwell leaned closer to Angela and asked, "Why did you say the crystal was yours?"
Angela was not expecting this. "Uh... um..." She fidgeted around in her chair.
"It's okay," Maxwell consoled her. "No one will be angry. It's common for people to get jealous of other people with better gear."
"Me? Jealous? Never," Angela said, laughing nervously. "It's just that..."
At this moment, Anthony reappeared, staggering under the weight of the furnace. He dropped it on the floor with a thud and asked brightly, "What do I do now?"
Maxwell handed Anthony all of the ores that had been mined that day. "Go smelt these into bars," he instructed Anthony.
Anthony was perplexed. "Where?" he asked.
"The furnace," Maxwell said, a hint of annoyance tainting his normally pleasant voice.
Always eager to please, Anthony lit a fire in the furnace and set to work. Meanwhile, Maxwell abandoned his conversation with Angela, leaving her to stew silently in a corner.
In a couple of minutes, Anthony had come up with gold bars, silver bars, and iron bars. Maxwell studied them intently.
"You have enough gold for a breastplate and a helmet," Maxwell calculated, "and enough silver for a set of greaves and a helmet, and enough iron for a breastplate and greaves, with three gold bars, five silver bars, and nine iron bars left over. Who will take what?"
Angela immediately claimed the gold breastplate and helmet and the silver greaves, but Maxwell laughed and told her that that wasn't how it worked. He then gave Angela enough gold for the breastplate, enough silver for the greaves, and enough iron for a helmet. He was about to distribute Anthony's share when he slapped himself, called himself stupid, and cried, "I forgot! We need an anvil. Luckily, it seems that we have enough iron."
"What's an anvil?" Angela asked.
Maxwell was about to answer, but Anthony spoke up first. "I remember seeing one at the old blacksmith shop, at the museum. You use it to shape metals."
Maxwell smiled. "Exactly!" he cried. "What's a blacksmith?"
"A person who-oh, never mind. The question is, how do we make an anvil?"
"You need eight iron bars," Maxwell instructed. Without hesitation, Angela grabbed all of the iron and ran to the furnace.
"You don't need all that iron," called Anthony.
Maxwell patted his back gently. "Leave her be," he told Anthony. "She'll figure it out."

Chapter Seven
Angela returned a few minutes later, with an armful of iron. Anthony winced.
"She's going to kill herself doing that!" he whispered to Maxwell.
However, before Maxwell could reply, Angela dropped the entire stack of iron bars and the anvil on her foot.
"Told you," murmured Anthony.
Angela stood still for a moment, then pulled her foot out of the pile of wreckage and took off her shoe. It was already beginning to swell.
"Are you okay?" asked Maxwell.
"Yes," Angela gasped. She began to hobble towards the table and collapsed in what had previously been Maxwell's chair.
"Are you sure?"
"Well, to be fair, I think I broke it. But I can still go mining and-"
"You're not going anywhere," Maxwell said firmly. "And Anthony, neither are you."
"But... but... don't we need more stuff? Like, more mirrors and potions and coins?" Anthony protested.
"Actually, you probably do," Maxwell admitted. "But you need to build houses so more people will come to live with us."
"Wait," Angela interrupted. "You mean, we're not completely stranded in the middle of nowhere?"
"If your definition of not being in the middle of nowhere is having a random guy selling useless stuff come by and taking advantage of your hard labor by settling in a house that you built, you are absolutely correct," Maxwell stated flatly.
Not picking up on his sarcasm, Anthony pumped his fist into the air. "We're gonna be rich!" he shouted. "We're gonna build houses and attract other people and keep them safe from zombies and they'll give us anything we want!"
"I... I don't think that's the way it works," Angela said.
"I know."
"Then why'd you-"
"Shut up."
"If you two are done arguing, I think we have some building to do," Maxwell called from the corner. "I mean, it's fine if you don't want to take my advice and all, but you won't get very far without it."
"Yes, sir," Anthony murmured weakly. He left the tiny cabin and, a few minutes later, Maxwell and Angela could hear him brutally attacking trees.
"So," Maxwell turned to Angela. "Why'd you say that heart-"
"I REALLY don't want to have this conversation right now," Angela interrupted.
"Okay, so, why'd you take all that iron-"
"Can't you just tell me what to do and leave me in peace?"
"Just... make whatever you can. Let me know if you need help. I'll be outside so I don't annoy you."
"Wait, Maxwell, I-"
"I can't hear you!"
"Maxwell, come-"
"La, la, la, not listening, la, la, la!"
Angela gave up. She sighed in exasperation and cried, to no one in particular, "I can't craft things if I can't walk to the crafting stations!"

Chapter Eight
"Take that, tree!" Maxwell cried as he drive his axe into the trunk of one of the many trees near the house. The tree groaned, then have a shudder and exploded into twenty-eight logs. Anthony collected them and shoved them into his satchel.
He was about to move on to the next tree when he heard shouting from the house. He went over to investigate and pressed his ear to the door. It was eavesdropping, he knew, but what if Angela was planning to explore without him?
"-REALLY don't want to have this conversation right now," Angela was saying.
'Okay, so, why'd you take all that iron-"
"Can't you just tell me what to do and leave me in peace?"
"Just... make whatever you can. Let me know if you need help. I'll be outside so I don't annoy you."
Upon hearing this, Anthony quickly stepped away from the for and lifted his axe. Maxwell opened the door just as he prepared to strike another tree.
"Wait, Maxwell, I-"
"I can't hear you!"
"Maxwell, come-"
"La, la, la, not listening, la, la, la!"
Anthony's mind raced. Why was Maxwell acting like this? He had known that Angela would be in no state to craft. Yet he was forcing her to create armor, weapons, and furniture. He had given her no instructions and, what was more, she could easily hurt herself. Making up his mind, Anthony put away his axe and slowly approached Maxwell, who was leaving against the house and muttering to himself.
"-and then, maybe, we can get rid of- Anthony, what do you want?" he asked.
Under Maxwell's steely gaze, Anthony became nervous. "Um, could I, you know, go in and help Angela? I've got plenty of wood and it's barely, uh, noon."
Neither of these statements were true. Only twenty-eight pieces of wood rested in Anthony's satchel, and the sun was rapidly sinking into the western sky.
Maxwell noticed these things as well, and said, "Of course you can. But the sun, contrary to your beliefs, seems to be falling. You could visit Angela, but then you'd never finish the house. And if you complete a house, there's a chance a nurse might come. She could help your sister."
"Well, I guess that makes sense." Anthony admitted.
"Good. Now go ahead. Hurry. The house needs to be finished by dark."

Meanwhile...

An agonizing pain shot through Angela's right foot. Grimacing, she lifted it and the pain dulled. Leaning on the bit of wood that served as a makeshift crutch, Angela took another painful step forward.
It had been this way for the whole day. Ever since Maxwell had abandoned her to make rhyme and reason out of the giant pile of materials, Angela had been making steady but slow and painful progress. She had no idea what time it was, but reasoned that it had to be close to night. After all, she has been here for hours. Or at least it seemed that way.
By now, she has two golden pieces of armor, one silver piece, two grappling hooks, and a bed. Maxwell would be impressed.
But her achievements had come with a price. Her foot was extremely painful, and it was an ugly red. She had stumbled and fallen several times. Angela would have given all the gold in the world for an hour in the new bed.
At this moment, Anthony burst through the door with an armload of wood, followed by Maxwell.
"Is it night yet?" Angela asked hopefully.
"Almost," Maxwell said gently. "Anthony just needs to finish the house because -"
"Maybe then a nurse will come and help you!" Anthony finished.
Angela was skeptical. "How will a nurse find us out here?" she asked. "And why a nurse? Why not just a businessman or banker?"
"You clearly don't quite understand how Terraria works." Maxwell sighed. "But, if we hurry, we can still finish the house by nightfall."
With that, Maxwell, Anthony, and the newly created wooden furniture left.

Angela decided to take a break. After Maxwell and Angela left, she has crafted the last silver piece and one of the iron ones. Anthony and Maxwell would be elated. She wasn't, though. Sure, the armor was very strong and sure to help them survive, but it didn't seem worth a broken foot. And Angela was pretty sure the hard work had only make it worse. It was throbbing like crazy now, and was turning from an angry red to a sickly purple. Angela decided that she wouldn't put any more weight on it until the nurse came.
Speaking of which, Angela noticed, she heard the dull thumping of Anthony's hammer. He was putting walls in. The house would be done soon.
After a couple of minutes, the hammering stopped. The new house was finished. Angela waited eagerly for the whispery voice to tell her that a nurse had arrived.
It never did.
A couple of minutes later, Maxwell and Anthony slowly entered the room. "It's too late," Anthony said softly. "It's night now. The nurse won't come today."

Maxwell could tell that Angela was crestfallen. He could also tell that Anthony could tell. Maxwell felt almost sorry for them. Almost. He couldn't let soft feelings get the better of him, he reminded himself.
Everything was going according to plan. A few weeks and they would be gone.
Sometimes Maxwell wondered why the boss made him bring all these innocent people to lands that would be completely alien to them, only to exterminate then later. He never thought about it long, though. The boss had to have his reasons.
Those reasons would be the death of Angela and Anthony.
Not the illusion of death, a temporary unconsciousness that came when your strength was drained. Real death, cold and black, it's icy fingers gripping at one's heart.
He wondered if Anthony or Angela had experienced it before. After all, it was possible to die inside, but still keep living.
It didn't matter. They would find out first-hand soon enough.
I saw this before and I loved it!
 
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