The orange rays of the late evening sun color the eastern lands of Terraria with its last shreds of warmth before the inevitability of nightfall.

A small town is positioned within a mildly dense forest, guarded by large stone walls, which, in turn, are overseen by armored individuals. Two guards are locked in conversation at the forefront of the settlement and just above the town’s gate and entry point.

“Got that new Cobalt Armor strapped on tight, Joffrey?” A male guard inquires while donned in dark-blue attire. “You don’t want a repeat from last time.”

“Yeah, yeah, Phillip,” Joffrey responds. “And that was a one-time thing, ok?”

“It never should’ve happened in the first place.”

“But I’m still alive, right?”

“You’re only alive because your flaming armor fell off due to you slacking on the straps, making you butt-ass naked. And the demon you were fighting laughed at your idiocy. But, hey, it bought us enough time to save your dumb ass.”

“Look, whatever. Shit happens. Man, I can't believe it's been eight whole months since that whole demon invasion thing. Hey, how’d we even get supplied with this Cobalt stuff, anyway?”

“Don’t know who sent it, but a large wagon arrived before the town entrance about two months ago, although some of us chalked it up as the dwarves further down east feeling generous. Some of the townsfolk have some good ties with them. It even had a small note calling this stuff ‘Cobalt.’”

“I’ve heard rumors-”

“Rumors? My guy, Terra herself practically broadcasted a message across the whole frigg’n planet. ‘Your world has been blessed by’ yadda yadda yadda.”

“Thanks, smartass. I was going to say that all those ores used to exist hundreds or even thousands of years ago. And only a very select few still had them in possession. Then they just returned out of freaking nowhere. Poof. Come get your powerful ores, everyone.”

“This is Terraria, dude. This shit happens all the time.”

Suddenly, a series of clopping hooves and the sounds of rolling wooden wheels garners the attention of the two guardsmen and several others. All eyes lay on an approaching wooden wagon with a white tarp covering its rear, likely to hold storage. A large light-brown horse pulls the wagon as an individual wearing a brown cloak - which covers their features - is sat at the reigns.

“Halt!” Phillip exclaims as the wagon comes to a stop. “State your business-”

“Calm your tits, Phillip!” The cloaked individual interjects. Male, going by his voice. And as this individual lifts off his hood, a white-skinned terrarian male with blond hair is on full display.

“It’s just me. Seriously, though… I’d think you guys would recognize my wagon by now.”

Phillip sighs. “It’s protocol, Luschian.”

“Yeah, I got ya. Now, you gonna open this gate, or do I have to sleep with someone just to get in?”

“Right, right. Get in here, you cheeky bastard. Open the gate!”

A brief moment ensues following Phillip’s exclamation, and the large wooden gate with reinforced metals engraved into the barricade opens wide, revealing the vibrant town within.

“Thanks, guys!” Luschian shouts with a raised and waving hand. “Try not to suck each other off too much!”

“Fuck you,” Phillip, Joffrey, and several other guards respond in unison.

Luschian chuckles. He then whistles while gently cracking the horse's reigns, causing the equine to proceed into the town.

Luschian’s wagon proceeds further and deeper into town, terrarians, beastfolk, elves, and dwarves going about their daily lives all around him.

Luschian had considered stopping by the town’s tavern for a drink or even visiting the market to procure home supplies but decided against it. An urgent matter needed his attention, and his destination was seemingly coming into view. However, he takes note of a wanted sign being plastered on a giant wooden billboard set just above a building that acts as the guard barracks:

After some time, the wagon slowly stops before a single-story home made of stone and wood with a fairly large horse stable beside it. Luschian dismounts the wagon and unstraps the light-brown horse, effectively disconnecting the equine from the transport.

“Easy, boy,” Luschian coos as he rubs the base of the horse’s neck. “You did well today. Come on, let’s get you into your stable.”

The horse bumps Luschian’s back with its muzzle, causing him to stumble forth, although he quickly corrects himself lightly. He looks back to the horse and seemingly catches onto its meaning after a grunted neigh.

“Sorry, bud. Today got a little busy, what with my little side project going on. But I promise to take you out for a stroll tomorrow, alright?”

The horse clops its left forelimb repeatedly as it raises and lowers its head.

“That’s a promise. Alright then. Come on, let’s turn you in.”

The wooden door of the home is pushed open, followed by Luschian’s entering form before he kicks it close with his left leg, locking it for good measure. He removes his cloak and hangs it on one of the mounted clothes hooks etched into the nearby wall, revealing a simple brown cloth shirt and shoes with blue pants.

The terrarian performs a quick stretch. “I think I’ll make a quick stop before turning in.” He said before walking down the hallway.

The home itself was pretty simplistic as Luschian made his traversal. It sported a cozy living room with basic furniture, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a single bedroom - of which the terrarian had in his sights. But the entire room sported electricity, as evidenced by various switches positioned at the entrances to each room, along with appliances and electrical outlets.

Entering the bedroom, Luschian flicks the switch as white lights illuminate his surroundings. A large wooden bed with blue coverings and a small nightstand beside it is the first thing that comes into view. A closed closet, a large mirror, and a bookshelf can be seen to Luschian’s right, with a table and singular chair to his left and the room’s singular window.

The room was as simplistic as the rest of the home, but that’s how Luschian liked it. However, rather than resting on the bed, the terrarian approaches and stands in front of the eight-foot tall mirror.

“I hate this disguise,” He comments, then shrugs. “But I guess it doesn’t help that I’m a wanted man.” He turns his haze towards the nearby bookshelf. “Now then, let’s see how Gideon's doing.”

The terrarian approaches the bookshelf and leans towards the left side of the literature storage. He drapes his hand along the wood-comprised left side of the furnishing before coming to a stop, and a beeping sound goes off. Suddenly, light-blue hexagons appear in that specific location.

“Verification complete. Welcome home, Pomp Neigh,” A feminine mechanized voice greets. “Did you procure everything that you needed for your operation?”

“Sure did, Gideon. I even got some other necessities, just in case things go south.”

Gideon giggles. “Always the cautious one. Alright, then. Please, stand back.”

As requested, Pomp takes a few steps back, and steam escapes from the bookshelf before it begins to recede to the floor and vanish behind a closing hatch. As a result, a metallic door with a blue pad on a pedestal positioned on its right side reveals itself.

Pomp approaches the door and places his right hand on the pad. A scanning process ensues, and a ‘ticking’ sound is let loose after a mere moment. The metallic door recedes into the upper portions of the metal doorframe, and after Pomp enters what seemingly is an elevator with its lights beaming to life, the entrance seals itself shut behind him. And the bookcase rises from the floor once again, hiding any proof of the entrance’s existence.

“Take it down, Gideon.”

“Of course, Pomp. Also, If I may, why are you still using that disguise? You’re constantly complaining about how much you hate it.”

“...Shit. Guess I’ve used it so much; I tend to forget to shed it.”

A light-pink and blue aura surrounded Pomp’s body, and where once a white-skinned blond male stood, a tanned individual with brown hair and blue eyes had replaced them. In addition to wearing very particular apparel, one that has ties to slimes, ninjas who fought and befriended the gelatinous lifeforms, and a certain pegasus who is revered as their goddess:

Statigel Armor.

“You look dashing as always, Pomp.”

“Heh, thanks. But I always prefer the term:” In one swift and fluent motion, Pomp spins in place, conjures forth a unique blade and a pistol of fiery origins, and poses with the blade going across his chest with the gun-like weapon raised above his head.

“Dangerously sexy. Bang.”

Hello, ladies and gents! The story is still on hiatus, but as promised, here's another chapter as to keep interest flowing.

Also, here's the Guide: