By Terrarian Pony
WARNING: Content of this story may include violence, gore, romance, same gender romance, Minecraft, Terraria, and references to several other video games and TV shows. This series is also written in script format. If anyone is offended by any of the content listed above, than please turn back now. You have been warned.
Author's note: Please note that even though Terraria is often mentioned in the series, this is a Minecraft AND Terraria crossover series. So please do not be offended. Instead, enjoy!
Story:
Terrarian Pony presents...
Land of the Champions
Episode 3
The Gunslinger
...
Woodstock was in a huge field of wheat, just like the one he and his sister used to play in. Something was off about it, though. He couldn't remember how he got here. Grey clouds were coming in on the horizon. A mature feminine voice spoke from somewhere around him, but he couldn't figure out where.
???:" Woody! Over here!"
Woodstock tried to follow the voice of his elder sister, but as he listened, it became more distorted. Something was wrong. Suddenly, a large shadow was forming from behind him. Woodstock felt a chill down his spine and turned around to see what it was, and was shocked at some revelation.
Woodstock woke up in his room, not remembering what happened next. It's always the same dream, but he couldn't ever remember what he saw at the end. He felt trapped in a loop. He was trapped in a loop. Everyday, he would wake up from that strange dream, get ready for the day, ask for another bounty, blows a head, get paid, fall asleep and repeat. Sometimes, but rarely, the dream would be different though. He would notice things that weren't there in the previous dream. Maybe the dream would take place in a cave instead of a field. Or maybe the voice he heard was different. There was one night he didn't have the dream at all, or at least he couldn't remember having it.
Woodstock got up got dressed in his tee-shirt, brown trench coat, and orange poncho. He took a long look at his black fedora before placing it atop his head. The hat was his father's, and he wore it everywhere he went.
His room wasn't anything fancy. It suited the lifestyle of a bounty hunter perfectly, decorated with bear traps, animal heads, and guns... lots of guns. Inside of his closet, was a chest filled with even more guns and ammunition, including his two trusty revolvers. He made them himself, and even named them Mick and Ralph. He holstered them at his sides, and picked up the shotgun, along with a bag of ammo. He hid the shotgun in a compartment in his coat, and took one of the strapped hunting rifles mounted on the wall, and slung it over his shoulder, onto his back.
Woodstock finally strapped on his boots and headed outside the shack he called home. Summerville wasn't a bad town to live in, if you like living in a town where everyone owns a gun or two. Summerville was home to many bounty hunters. Specifically the kind whom hunt rogue champions, and big league monsters for money. All bounties are approved by the Enforcers of Far North Organization, which means they are only allowed to hunt champions whom are legally criminalized.
Woodstock had no love for champions, not since he was a kid. His older sister went hunting in the woods, and didn't return. Later he would get vengeance over the armor-clad "champion" who killed Lanette. He remembered aiming down the sights of his custom revolvers at the bastard, and killing him with a single shot from both pistols. Woodstock kept a picture of his older sister hidden in a compartment inside Mick's grip, and in Ralph's compartment, a single bullet, with the name of the leader of the Order of Faith's name on it. Everyone called him the Light Bringer, even his enemies, for the simple fact that he wielded a weapon of light. The sword, Excalibur. Woodstock one of the few who knew his true name.
The bullet was forged from ichor, a hollow point round that would eventually make it's way through the Light Bringer's helmet, and straight through his skull, and he would die with all of his sins to haunt him. It is said that an ichor bullet could kill almost anything, with the exception of a behemoth, or being of equal or greater power. But until the day comes, when he would meet the man himself, and kill him, the bullet would stay in it's hidden compartment.
Woodstock made his way to the Wolfgang building, where the big boss of the Wolfgang Bounty Company operates. Wolfgang Company is a family business, bound by contract to the E.F.N.O. (Enforcers of Far North Organization) to hunt champions outlawed by the E.F.N.O. Hunters would get good reward for each bounty captured dead or alive. Woodstock always opted for the kill, weather the target were worth more alive or not.
The building itself wasn't very large, but it was bigger than all the others in Summerville, and it stood out. The house itself was made of painted concrete. There were no windows, and barely any vents, in an attempt to keep spies away. Richard Wolfgang is highly paranoid and uses runes all over the building to keep out things like demons, spirits, magic users, and other paranormal entities. He turns away psychics, and has a high distrust for religious types. He is suspicious of everyone, including his own agents and business associates. Guarding the door is a "welcoming" fellow sporting a black leather coat, and a pair of shades. He has clean cut and shave, and likes to call everyone "baby", regardless of their gender, except for children. This is Thomas Bishop, or Tom for short, one of Woodstock's competitors.
Tom:" Hey baby. Ya goin' over to see the ol' boss? Good. He's expectin' ya."
Woodstock:" He is? I don't remember makin' an appointment."
Tom:" To be fair, you never make an appointment."
Woodstock:" Fair enough. He got you pulling guard duty today? What'd ya do?"
Tom:" May have clocked one his men in face without knowin'. Can ya blame me though? He thought he could con me into sellin' him a pistol for a ridiculously low price. No one cons the conman."
Woodstock:" So you punched the guy over a pistol?"
Tom:" Hey, he started that scrap, said things about my sister. Guy's momma oughta wash his mouth out with soap."
Woodstock:" Yeah... think I heard 'bout enough. Can ah just go in?"
Tom:" Go on in, baby. Ain't nobody gonna stop ya."
Woodstock:" 'Preciate it."
Woodstock walked in through the door. He was immediately met by six armed guards wearing black suits, and shades. Each one stood at attention, three on either side of the hallway, each holding a gun in front of them, pointing down. Once you enter the first hall, there is a foreboding feeling, like walking into a place where you know death likes to stand around, with his hooded skull face, and his deadly scythe. Or at least that's how Woodstock imagined him to look. He figured red glowing dots inside the eye sockets was a bit too imaginative. This place... it reeked with the stench of sweat and blood, and not the kind that comes from hard work, but the kind that comes from retribution. That's what Richard stood for. He was judge, jury, and executioner all in one. If you crossed him, you would mysteriously disappear, without a trace.
In the next room, was a casino, with rich folks gambling, and causing a stir. Few individuals would even gain access to the casino, and even fewer could afford to stay. The secret is, all of it is rigged. Woodstock didn't have to play to figure that out. For example, he's seen how things go in the boxing ring. Bets are placed on who would win, and whoever has the highest bets on them, would barely even fight, allowing the other fighter to win, resulting in more money towards the boss man.
Wolfgang. It's always something when Woodstock goes into his office. Woodstock often wanders why he even comes here. The money is good, and less monsters are in the world with Richard Wolfgang around. But Woodstock often questions just how many skeletons the man has in his closet. Questions how many of them are human.
Woodstock approached the armed guard protecting the door to Wolfgang's office. The guard pressed a button on a speaker device and next to the door.
Guard:" Mr. Wolfgang, Woodstock is here to see you."
A voice came from the speaker moments later.
Richard's voice through the speaker:" Send him in."
The guard nodded to Woodstock, and continued standing at attention. Woodstock pushed the door open, and arrived in a large, completely empty room. Large enough to fit at least six hot tubs. The only thing that filled it was Richard Wolfgang himself, two of his most trusted armed guards, and his desk. The only other thing in there was a man in a white business suit that Woodstock had never seen before, coughing and hacking on the ground, in front of Richard's feet. Richard was a man of average heights, and wore a black suit with a black tie, and he always kept his black hair neat and tidy. He was smoking a cigar. Richard sighed.
Richard:" Now why you gotta go and do that, huh, Ozzy? These are nice shoes."
The mystery man was bleeding from mouth, and had no doubt taken a blow from Richard's brass knuckles.
Richard:" All you had to do, you had one job. One job, Oswald! And you blew it!"
Richard put the cigar back his mouth, looked at the pathetic, groaning man for a moment, and kicked him in the jaw, forcing him onto his back.
Woodstock:" What'd this guy do to tick you off?"
Richard blew a puff of smoke, and looked at Woodstock, pointing the cigar at him.
Richard:" Don't worry about it. You just wait your turn."
He crouched down to the man's level, who was coughing and spitting on the floor.
Oswald:" L-look, I-I'll get it back for you. I know a guy. He's reliable, he's... he's discrete."
Richard:" Sounds like you shoulda hired him the first time. No. No, get this trash outta here. I got business to conduct."
As Richard walked back to his desk, one of the guards punched Oswald in the nose, knocking him out cold, and began to dragging him outside.
Richard:" Hey uh... listen. I appreciate your discretion here. I really do."
Woodstock:" Sounds like ya lost something."
Richard:" Now don't you worry your little head about that. I got it covered, alright? You just remember that deal we had? Whatever happens in this office stays in this office, and I slip the Enforcers a few coins, make 'em forget about your case. Eh?"
Woodstock:" You don't got to remind me. Ah know my place."
Richard:" Good. Good. Now, onto business, eh?"
Woodstock:" Just here for my bounty. Nothing more."
Richard:" Nah, nah. I got something different for you today. Now, you're not gonna want to listen, but hear me out."
Woodstock:" I'm not taking the minotaur case. You and I both know it's a joke."
Richard:" No, no. Just hear me out, okay? I got something different. I've got twenty gold in it for you."
Woodstock:" Now that's a load of minotaur crap. No champion is even worth that much."
Richard:" Just listen. Alright? King slime."
Woodstock:" Ah'm out of here."
Richard:" Seriously. Our rep will go through the roof! Your rep will go through the roof!"
Woodstock:" Yeah, that's the problem. I'm a hunter. I don't care to be noticed. King Slime? I think I'll let the self-proclaimed champions deal with that one."
Richard:" That's the problem, Woody. The champions are running the show! We gotta keep up. These guys are going unchecked, and stealing what's ours. Doesn't that bother you?"
Woodstock:" When ah first signed on, ah asked for two things. Silver bullets, and discretion. Your job is to make sure nobody knows my name."
Richard's arm opened wide as if he waiting for a hug.
Richard:" Alright, alright fine. I take the credit. You take the fortune. Win-win."
Woodstock:" Yeah, that doesn't work for me."
Richard:" Face it, Woody. You need the money, and I need the support. We've been taking small fries all this time. Cuttley the Cutlass, The Wendigo Brothers, The Fantabulous Jester? Harpies, all of them. The Enforcers are starting to talk about shutting down our operations unless we can prove to them that we aren't just lawfully contracted champions."
Woodstock:" Which we are. I'm not going fall into that pit again."
Richard:" Would you listen to me, just once, Woodstock? Just once? Please? I need this. You need this. I'll make it thirty gold. How's that? Come on, I'm trying to help you. Plus, we can prove for once, that Mythrolhia doesn't need champions."
Woodstock:" Oh, but it needs a bunch of mercenaries?"
Richard:" Ah ah... you know I don't like the 'm' word, Woody. C'mon. If you can't do it for me, do it for yourself. That's what you're good at."
Woodstock folded his arms with a silent sigh. He bit his lip for a moment and then answered.
Woodstock:" Fine. I'll do it. For forty gold."
Richard:" Forty!?"
Woodstock:" I may be indebted to you, but Ah'm no boot licker. Forty. That's my play. You want mah help or not?"
Richard:" Alright. Alright. Forty. I can do that. And you're absolutely right. I hate boot lickers. Just get me the king slime's crown, and I'll get you your money.
Woodstock:" Good. Now, about this king slime."
Richard:" Right. One of the trade routes to Terrainville has been blocked for a good bit, now. Reports say it's a king slime."
Woodstock:" Terrainville? I thought that place was dead."
Richard:" You'd be surprised how a civilization holds itself together. Listen. One of these days, I'm not gonna be in this world. That's when Terraria falls to people who are too spineless to even realize the problem. But until that happens, it falls to people like us to make the world a better place. A safer place. A place where little Timmy can kick his soccer ball around, and not have to worry about going into the woods to get it back. Where Ol' lady Brenda can stare into the mirror, without seeing ghosts. Where people don't have to be afraid of the boogeyman stomping out of their closet, and snatching them up in the night. We need real people for that. Not some... self-proclaimed champions."
Woodstock:" You done? I know you don't do what you do as good will, and you know better than anyone I could give two pig butts about the fate of Mythrolhia. Mythrolhia is already dead, we just don't know it yet."
Richard:" Please don't turn this into a knife fight."
Woodstock:" Wouldn't matter at this point. There's already blood on your marble floor."
Woodstock turned and began to walk out the door, but stopped with it open so others could hear what he was about to say.
Woodstock:" You can preach the good word, Wolfgang. But if you do, you should be prepared to tell others why you don't practice it."
Richard sat up out of his chair with a very displeased expression.
Richard:" Now hold on. You ca-"
But Woodstock shut the door before he could finish, a cocky grin on his face. Woodstock liked leaving him like that. It was something he did quite often to show that he wasn't going to deal with Wolfgang's crap, and to teach him what he is doing wrong. The door guard gave him an indignant look, but he didn't care.
...
Before going out to Terrainville, Woodstock went to the local tavern, "The Hanging Witch". He wasn't going on a hunt without some whiskey and some food in him. Looked like he wouldn't be drinking in peace, though. The tavern was filled to the brim with customers. Demetrius was among one of them. He is an arms dealer, supplies hunters with guns and ammunition, for a price. He has brown skin, grey hair, a trench coat, and blue eyes. Demetrius is one of the few hunters who agreed with the beliefs of the champions. These hunters are referred to as "dumbbells" by other hunters, on account of them enabling champions, making their beliefs all the more stronger.
Woodstock often hung around Demetrius, even though they were two sides of the same coin. Unlike most hunters, they respected each other's ways. Even though Woodstock saw champions as unchecked, and unpredictable, Demetrius knew that he would never let his hatred get the better of him. Even though Demetrius sympathized with the champions, Woodstock could understand why. Demetrius' father was known as the Blind Sniper, on account that he was blind, and he could shoot a man from fifty meters. No one knew how he did it.
Demetrius:" Woody. How's my favorite customer?"
Woodstock:" I'm running errands for that sleaze bag, Wolfgang again. So nothing new there."
Demetrius:" I don't know why you work for him. There are others in Summerville you can go to for work."
Woodstock:" None of 'em can hide my mistakes like he can. The Enforcers find evidence of my past... I'm done for."
Demetrius:" Come work for me. I can afford it."
Woodstock:" I couldn't do that to you, D. I got too much respect for ya."
Demetrius:" Then do it because of your respect."
Woodstock:" I... I'll think about it."
Demetrius:" Tell you what. I bet he's got you going after that king slime, right?"
Woodstock:" How'd you know that?"
Demetrius:" Gotta keep an eye on my competition, right? I got a contract for you. Just as a consideration, bring the slime's crown to me in Sandy Shoals, and I'll have your answer, and a whole platinum coin waiting for you."
Woodstock:" Platinum? You'd go that far?"
Demetrius:" For you, dawg? Anything."
Woodstock:" Well, like ah said. Ah'll think on it. I don't want to get you wrapped up in my mistakes."
Demetrius:" Hey Woody... you trust me, right?"
Demetrius was one of the few hunters Woodstock did trust.
Woodstock:" Yeah, man. How 'bout I buy ya a drink?"
Demetrius:" Ah no. I already had my fill."
Woodstock:" Ah'll be back, then."
...
After grabbing a bite, and something to drink, Woodstock headed out into the forest. From Summerville, it's a day and a half worth of walking to Terrainville. He would have to go all the way around the Hand of Carnage, a settlement built around werewolf culture. Summerville has a peace going with the Werewolf pack, and a Draycora tribe to the south east, who occupy the crater remains of a mountain filled with lava pools. Each party has to stick to their own land to hunt for food. If one of the other parties is caught hunting in the other's territory, they risk breaking the peace, which also risks intervention by the E.F.N.O., which results in a full investigation, which results in less freedom for each party during E.F.N.O. occupation.
Summerville, Hand of Carnage, and Mount Ember all favor independence. If anything were to go down, and eventually involve the Enforcers, it's likely they won't leave, and they'll become settlements controlled by the E.F.N.O., which would not go over well for any party involved. Some would likely take up arms and revolt.
Woodstock eventually made it past Hand of Carnage, and began towards Terrainville. It was nightfall by this time, since Woodstock usually wakes up in midday. Woodstock only allows himself eight hours of sleep because of his profession. Woodstock felt as though his legs were about to give, so he set up a campfire next to a rock where he would sit and stoke the flames. He sat there, contemplating himself. Contemplating weather this job was worth doing. The champions would eventually go after it, if not some champion wannabe, trying to prove themselves. Woodstock didn't much care for champions. All of them wanted fame and glory. They picked up a sword only for a false sense of honor. There was no honor in killing another, Woodstock thought. It's about weather the object deserved death.
Woodstock heard a twig snap, followed immediately after an "Eep!", and instinctively pulled Ralph from his right hip.
Woodstock:" Who's out there! Show yourself, coward!"
Out of the bushes, came a woman, with tan-yellow canine ears and a single tan-yellow fox tail. She was wearing a topaz-jeweled robe, and yellow eyes, and she was holding a staff up in defense. Well, it really looked more like a slimey old cane than a staff. The woman was a fennec kitsune, a lesser species of kitsune whom can only have one tail, and not as powerful as most other species of kitsune. Their illusions are less then impressive, and their offensive magic isn't very powerful either.
Their supportive magic however, is more focused than other species of kitsune. Fennec kitsune are really good at healing, and providing warding spells. Just touching another individual allows them to share their own strength with them. Their charm ability is also extraordinarily impressive. Next to her, was a baby slime minion.
???:" P-please don't shoot. I don't mean any harm. I'm just looking for food. Berries and such. My name is Star. Star Fenhill. Please put your weapon away. I-I don't want any trouble."
Woodstock saw no threat in a fennec kitsune. He put his gun away and pulled out an apple, throwing it away from his camp. Star watched the apple roll for a second, and then chased after it in her fox form. Her fur was entirely a tan-yellow color. Her tail was bigger than her entire fox body. Woodstock pulled out an apple for himself, only to find the fennec curled up next to him, munching on the apple he gave her with a joyous expression.
Woodstock:" Hey. Do you mind? I don't quite enjoy the company of other people."
Star looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. But charm didn't work on Woodstock. He raised his left hand up, showing off the anti-persuasion ring on his his ring finger, next to the garlic-scented ring on his index finger. Star made a pouty face.
Star:" But I don't like being chased by zombies. Can't I stay the night? Pleeeease?"
Woodstock:" No."
Woodstock took a bite out of the apple he was holding. Star curled up next to him, rubbing up against his coat.
Star:" I'm staying anyways."
Woodstock sighed, rubbing his eyes, and pulled his hat down, and laid back on the rock, simply giving up. Star grinned, and giggle quietly at her victory.
...
Woodstock:" Why you followin' me?"
Star:" Why not?"
Star had been following Woodstock in her fox form, since he woke up in the middle of the night. The slime minion followed close by as well.
Woodstock:" One: I'm a hunter. Two: Ah'm armed to the teeth. Three: I don't like stalkers."
Star:" Well I'm no stalker. I'm just a scavenger."
Woodstock:" Ah don't like scavengers, neither. Bottom feeding is just as bad."
Star:" I don't have a choice. It's how I survive."
Woodstock sighed again, for the fifth time this trip.
Star:" Where are we going anyways?"
Woodstock:" Ah am going to Terrainville to kill a king slime."
Star:" Why?"
Woodstock:" Ah... ah don't know. Ah need the money."
Star:" So you and I are both surviving."
Woodstock:" Nah-uh. Mah situation is totally different. Ah work for a livin'. What do you do?"
Star:" Hey. Begging is hard work, too."
Woodstock:" Oh yeah, ah'm sure it is."
Star:" Hey, what's that noise?"
Suddenly, a pure-white fox came running towards them, squeaking and squealing in a panicked way.
Woodstock:" Ugh. What now?"
Star:" She's... asking for help. Someone is in danger."
The fox turned around and began running.
Star:" She wants us to follow her."
Woodstock and Star followed, and eventually heard a voice.
???:" You should have taken my deal."
Woodstock peeked around a tree, and saw what looked like another kitsune, purple ears and three purple tails with white tips, on the ground, coughing and bleeding. In front of him, a man in a black suit, standing next to a large, red, winged hunchback creature, holding a doll. Voodoo demon. And the one in the black suit is an arch demon.
Arch demon:" Now... let's make a new one."
...
To be continued...