TheJoekster
Dungeon Spirit
I've put the writing in a spoiler for the sake of organization.
*exhales* This is my first thread post on TCF - I hope someone enjoys the story. Criticism is most welcome.
They are coming. That was the voice I heard as I saw Cthulhu's eye get brutally ripped into shreds by this imperialistic warrior.
I hopelessly watched, wishing nature would defeat this lunatic, but every single time, he slipped through their grasp. A boulder falls and misses. A slime charges in suicidally, in an act of sacrifice. And every time, this madman wins. I tried to look away as he massacred Cthulhu's brain and intestines down inside caverns of blood and decay. I stared into this person's soul as he walked into the entrance of the Dungeon, seeing greed, envy, and empowerment in his mind. And I watched as he killed the keeper of the Dungeon without remorse.
As this selfish character continued to grow in power, he found himself in the Underworld, where a trap was waiting to spring. As he indiscriminately killed off a daemon of the Underworld, Cthulhu himself - or what was left of him - appeared in a mortal form in front of the warrior, as an impenetrable wall of flesh and blood, to remind him of all he had killed, that he is ultimately powerless against nature. Against all odds, the warrior killed Cthulhu's embodiment. Cthulhu remained in a state between life and death for much after that.
The warrior then faced the rebellion of us, unleashing our fury against his imperialism. We created guardians of the sky that hunted down those in its precious territory. We created stallions that mercilessly struck down those who entered their Hallowed land. And we created worms that feasted on the decay of the warrior's mortality. Out of what we had lost, we gained so much.
The spirit of Cthulhu's eye returned in the form of two omniscient watchers to remind the madman that he was never truly alone. The spirit of Cthulhu's intestines returned in the form of a mechanical serpent to remind the madman that there was always a stronger enemy to strike him down. And the Dungeon's keeper returned in the form of an iron skull, to remind the madman that they are not in control of what does not belong to them. These three beasts kept the lunatic warrior in a battle, whilst goodness and evil spread over the world in an insurgence against the madman. I watched as this all unfolded, thirsting to see the warrior be brutally dismantled. But this did not happen. The warrior seemed to have a hopelessly indomitable spirit.
And the warrior engaged against the queen of the Jungle, Plantera. In her blaze of glory and death, my importance was recognized. I began to guard the Dungeon, the single place of faith in the world at this point, as the foolish combatant struck down Lihzahrdia's Golem. The lunatic warrior had a thirst for more and more strength, and at this point I knew I alone could not defeat him.
As I remain cloaked and silent in the Dungeon, I see the warrior's impending arrival on us as he approaches the ancient catacomb. He walks up the steps, brandishing a green blade. As he sweeps his sword through my comrades, I awake, shooting my bow at him. The warrior drives his sword into my chest, and I fall. Just another victim to a genocidal lunatic. As I lie here, waiting to die, I look up at the sky. I see the color of nebulae. As flashes of orange, blue, pink, and purple illuminate the sky, I hear the defiant roar of a creature from another world. I smile; my job is completed.
My vision fades...
I hopelessly watched, wishing nature would defeat this lunatic, but every single time, he slipped through their grasp. A boulder falls and misses. A slime charges in suicidally, in an act of sacrifice. And every time, this madman wins. I tried to look away as he massacred Cthulhu's brain and intestines down inside caverns of blood and decay. I stared into this person's soul as he walked into the entrance of the Dungeon, seeing greed, envy, and empowerment in his mind. And I watched as he killed the keeper of the Dungeon without remorse.
As this selfish character continued to grow in power, he found himself in the Underworld, where a trap was waiting to spring. As he indiscriminately killed off a daemon of the Underworld, Cthulhu himself - or what was left of him - appeared in a mortal form in front of the warrior, as an impenetrable wall of flesh and blood, to remind him of all he had killed, that he is ultimately powerless against nature. Against all odds, the warrior killed Cthulhu's embodiment. Cthulhu remained in a state between life and death for much after that.
The warrior then faced the rebellion of us, unleashing our fury against his imperialism. We created guardians of the sky that hunted down those in its precious territory. We created stallions that mercilessly struck down those who entered their Hallowed land. And we created worms that feasted on the decay of the warrior's mortality. Out of what we had lost, we gained so much.
The spirit of Cthulhu's eye returned in the form of two omniscient watchers to remind the madman that he was never truly alone. The spirit of Cthulhu's intestines returned in the form of a mechanical serpent to remind the madman that there was always a stronger enemy to strike him down. And the Dungeon's keeper returned in the form of an iron skull, to remind the madman that they are not in control of what does not belong to them. These three beasts kept the lunatic warrior in a battle, whilst goodness and evil spread over the world in an insurgence against the madman. I watched as this all unfolded, thirsting to see the warrior be brutally dismantled. But this did not happen. The warrior seemed to have a hopelessly indomitable spirit.
And the warrior engaged against the queen of the Jungle, Plantera. In her blaze of glory and death, my importance was recognized. I began to guard the Dungeon, the single place of faith in the world at this point, as the foolish combatant struck down Lihzahrdia's Golem. The lunatic warrior had a thirst for more and more strength, and at this point I knew I alone could not defeat him.
As I remain cloaked and silent in the Dungeon, I see the warrior's impending arrival on us as he approaches the ancient catacomb. He walks up the steps, brandishing a green blade. As he sweeps his sword through my comrades, I awake, shooting my bow at him. The warrior drives his sword into my chest, and I fall. Just another victim to a genocidal lunatic. As I lie here, waiting to die, I look up at the sky. I see the color of nebulae. As flashes of orange, blue, pink, and purple illuminate the sky, I hear the defiant roar of a creature from another world. I smile; my job is completed.
My vision fades...
*exhales* This is my first thread post on TCF - I hope someone enjoys the story. Criticism is most welcome.
I thought a Cultist's perspective would be an interesting dynamic. Nice to hear that was played out right.