The name of the guide is William or Willie, because that is the name of my lusty, lesbian lover and I dedicate this crap to him. I'm telling you this now because sometimes you start reading something with potential that you think you might end up loving, when suddenly something surprises you and you realize it makes the story that you want to like unbearable. There are things non-negotiable in our minds that ruin stories for us and I respect that. So just letting you know in advance … Willie. Also, this Will be a romance story with player and guide, granted that I don't decide to have him grow sincere feelings for Cthulhu for the chance at writing gey tentacle pron (that was a joke.) My writings tend to get a little steamy so … I hope you're having a good winter.

Oh, and I have mixed feelings about my writing style in this story. I keep spontaneously breaking the fourth wall because I chose to write from a storyteller's perspective. I might settle down for later chapters, but feel free to tell me your thoughts?



Getting dropped onto another world was not as smooth as one would hope it to be with god as your driver. For one, it was hard for such a big (in all respects) deity to dedicate itself to the meticulous task of picking up and depositing the microscopic, near inconsequential size of the human female's body into the harsh, needy world of Terraria … Especially at the right latitude, longitude, velocity, altitude, and time, so that she arrived relatively intact if not safely. To smooth things over, the over-glorified and lazy spirit-

« I hear that. »

-and as I was saying, the altruistic and ever competent Being took care into preparing the world and a guide, an exiled man who was not only knowledgeable but susceptible to possession from higher spirits, such as the brilliant and all-encompassing light bulb threatening to banish the story's only narrator into the void right now. Does it really matter that I'm an irreverant heathen? I get the job done! No, sorry, okay, let's just agree to continue the story, and I'll tame my biased descriptions. Happy?

« Not as happy as the majority of readers will be. »

It was a heavy snowfall that winter, especially in the mountains where a guide's meagre lodge of stone, dirt, and wood stood erect, braving the heavy gales and sea of snow that befell it. It wasn't much, and it certainly was lacking in some creature comforts, but it had a fireplace, a bed, and a table in a thickly layered shack.

It had been nearly a year by now for him. The poor, lonely man had been living happily in the town a few kilometres away over hill and vale (mountain and abyss), but after receiving a rather disturbing dream from an impossibly bright light that basically assaulted him with fleeting images that told him to pack up and go, he eventually came to realize he would have no choice in the matter and might as well prepare for the worst. I admire your ability to withstand punishment, my good man.

You may remember a mention that he was exiled. Well, being of a rather primitive and superstitious village, when views of his dream spread, they collectively decided on their own that this was a sign from God that this innocent man needed to die. Originally, he was supposed to be hanged. Hangings were, in these times, unsurprisingly common for this barbaric and god-fearing society. His girlfriend immediately verbally lashed out at him and despised him, his father disowned him, and the town threw rocks at his weeping and broken form. Only his dear, old mama took pity on him; clandestinely she kept these views, for if an impious breath were to discharge from her kind lips, my god, she would be torn asunder by the raging mob. However, he was her only son and she loved him, thus she was the one to help him avoid that early and unfortunate demise by sending him off on arguably a just as unpleasant path into the heart of the hailing mountains. Maybe you're better off without them anyway, man.

It's hard to say whether he was bitter or not toward the higher powers despite the questionable nature of this world's native deity. He recognized the fact that it wasn't god who directed the villagers into doing all those nasty things. It was surely for a good reason that his life led him, willingly or not, to the middle of snowy nowhere.

Then that reason fell out of the sky.

At the time, the guide had been climbing the treacherous slopes and terrain for two simple needs that needed to be addressed … no, make that three. Well, initially he had intended to go out and collect firewood and food, but he then had to pee really bad so he hid behind a tree (disregarding the fact no one would be around to see), and it was around this time that he spotted the body plummeting to the ground in the distance. Startled and instinctively concerned for his fellow man, he rushed over to the impact site.

"Female!" He first noticed with a gaping maw, guilty of excitement fuelled by more than a bit of desperation. "I haven't seen woman," or man, "in months!" This was not only human, but a woman as well. Congratulations! "Praise the Lord!" Woah there, stallion.

He took back the reins on his emotionally charged state over the chance of having human contact again. He had been close to losing his sanity and honestly felt he couldn't last any longer living like he was, alone. But now he had to steer himself back onto the road of reality and seriously consider what had to be done. It was snowing and cold for one, and her tattered clothing, decimated as they were, weren't going to help her avoid a tragic case of pneumonia. Not seeing her stir in the slightest, he stepped forward and examined her closely for breath.

When he felt a weak exhalation against his hand that had been brought up to her lips, he sighed in relief. She was alive at least for now, he concluded. He continued on and examined her body for any injuries. Bruises and cuts, but no broken bones. She had miraculously survived, relatively intact like I had said in the beginning. Though, he thought as his eyes began wandering a little too freely, she was pleasing to the eye even with her clothes ripped like t-

He shook his head to clear it of dishonourable thoughts, and set about the task of carrying or dragging her back with him. The unidentified lady wwas light in weight, though that didn't shock him with her body type. The black-haired woman was thin, shorter than him, and pale as alabaster or ivory. He easily lifted her into his arms. On the other hand … There was one other thing that fell with her, and he attempted to lift it up. Having not put enough effort into doing so, it barely separated from the ground before collapsing onto his foot.

"Ow! What the—why's this so heavy?" He exclaimed.

The handle of a tool poked out of the thick but small, grey rucksack, and he grudgingly looped one strap of the two attached to the burden over his shoulder.

Luckily the landing site wasn't that far from his shack, but after stripping her of wet clothes and settling her into the bed (feeling immensely invasive as he did so but seeing the importance), as well as sparking the fire to dry her body and clothes. The poor guy still needed a meal before dark, and the hunt would take quite a while. Hopefully his guest wouldn't awaken before he was back ready to explain things and get answers.

Then again, he had thought one time "Hopefully no one will freak out over this dream I had" and look where that got him! Sorry, guide.