With dreams of building a pimped-out mansion befitting a sultan of carnage like himself, DankBlazer420 stepped out of his crumbling shantytown with sweaty manual labor on his mind. He knew that the first principle of making a sick-ass bachelor pad was location, as evidenced by his killer man cave back home wherein he had spent many a night making love to his wife while watching the Masters on his cable television set. This sweet altar of jackedness was conveniently located betwixt two titty bars, "La Flama Blanca" and "The Chocolate Monsoon". "Location, location, location," he chuckled to himself, wiping a single tear from his eye as he remembered his and his wife's late nights at the La Flama Blanca, playing video poker over undercooked buffalo wings and absolutely hurling half-dollar coins at the dancers.
So it was that he set out westward upon a scouting mission. In his travels, he ran, jumped, and flew (it should be mentioned that he'd abruptly sprouted wings at the outset of his time in Terraria; the lack of mention of this fact is a grievous narrative oversight for which we have already had our original writer destroyed) across arid deserts, humid jungles, and through horrid patches of corruption, eventually reaching an ocean which appeared endless, spanning out for what must have been hundreds of miles to the west. So this was the edge of the world. DankBlazer420 felt vindicated in that moment, as back home he had always known the world to be flat despite what the throngs of doubters and marital counselors had to say. He looked out upon the glassy surface of the sapphire waters and smiled.
But the satisfaction following Dank's discovery, while sweet, was not the highlight of the journey. No, reader, the highlight of his westward journey, was a discovery made in the jungle: a handful of small floating islands deep in the heart of the rainforest. He did not know why they were unaffected by gravity. He did not care, as he was not one of those pencil-pushing dorks who cared about "scientific theories" or "empirical methods" or "hand-washing". All he knew was that the lack of connection to the ground make them perfect for defending against zombies, and the access to water meant that he could finally fish in peace.
I should make a note at this point. I have cited DankBlazer420's two great loves, his cable television set and his wife, but there was a third, a dark mistress, if you will: fishing. Dank was a man of simple pleasures, and he knew that two of those three would not be accessible in this accursed realm. To be able to finally fish was a blessing beyond belief.
However, he knew that there was work to be done before he could play, and so he started his eastward journey. He had been further east than west, so there was less ground to cover, but he saw much more: arctic wastelands, a strange dungeon guarded by an old man and a massive floating skull, and at the eastern edge of the world, a strange acidic sea, populated by mutated beasts with twisted leathery skin and sharp brown teeth. He decided the western half of the world was probably the safest.
There was one more point of interest however - a large oak tree whose towering branches were arranged in the shape of a heart. Its roots stuck halfway out of the ground, providing a great source of protection against the elements. He decided in honor of his wife to build here as well.
He had decided to build several smaller outposts rather than one large base camp, in order to spread his influence and more easily purify the large area. He would build at the heart tree, at the floating islands, and in the area of the greek shrine, for starters (as much time as he spent underground, he had the rare wise thought of putting a base there as well). With these sites in mind, his pickaxe polished, his new mace tucked into the pants pocket of his solid platinum armor, and a blood pressure which Nurse Kathryn described as an obscenity, our intrepid and morally upright hero set off to build his kingdom.
He decided to start that night to hopefully have more space for freeloaders (which he'd learned had their *occasional* uses), but as he sprinted off into the forest, he heard a booming voice, the same that had announced the slime rain, shout "YOU FEEL AN EVIL PRESENCE WATCHING YOU!". Dank was confused. He didn't see anything out there. He shrugged, deciding to ignore the voice, but just as he turned his back and started to walk, he heard a terrible laugh pierce the sky. The laugh had come from somewhere in the stars above, but despite his squinting he could not discern its source. Just then, another laugh. This one louder. Dank began to grow concerned. He had heard that laugh before. His eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed to the ground, falling into memory.
DankBlazer420 stepped into the kitchen, breathing in the aroma of meatloaf that permeated the air. He had ignored his mother's shouts as long as he could, but when it became apparent that she might actually reach the count of 3, he decided that his comic books would have to wait until after the meal. Taking his seat, he smiled at his mother, who returned the expression, her face glowing with kindness in the fluorescent kitchen lights. "Ahem". A man at the head of the table cleared his throat. Dank turned, reluctantly looking the man in the eye. The man was dressed in combat fatigues, a red beret, and a black eyepatch, his face gnarled as his one good eye glared at Dank. This man was his stepfather, Dr. Harold "Smooth Delicious" Clayton. Dr. Harold "Smooth Delicious" Clayton was a forklift operator at the local Lowe's . Dank did not think that he had ever been in the military, and he most certainly was not a doctor. "Aren't you going to say hello, boy?" the man barked. "Hello, Dr. Harold "Smooth Delicious" Clayton", Dank replied. "Is that lip I hear? Are you trying to sass me, you son of a bitch? You profligate hog! I work day and night at that damn Lowe's providing my expert service with a smile, all to pay for this house you sit around in and this food you're wasting! You think we talked back to our lieutenant at Da Nang? Charlie would have cut our cocks off if they heard us talking back to our lieutenant at Da Nang! Do you think I talked back to my professors at Harvard medical school? The board of admissions would have cut my cock off if I talked back to my professors at Harvard medical school!". "I'm sorry, Dr. Harold "Smooth Delicious" Clayton, I'm sorry!" Dank sobbed, frightened of what was to come. "Sorry doesn't un-waste the meatloaf, boy! I think you need to be taught a lesson! For your little antics tonight, you'll be rewarded with FIFTEEN MINUTES OF LOOKING AT THE EYE!" Dank screamed, overcome with sheer terror. His stepfather slowly reached toward the eyepatch and began to lift it up as Dank continued shrieking with fear.
Dank awoke with a gasp, seeing the eye hanging above him as it had all those years ago, only this time it was much larger. The eye must have been the size of a small house. It was streaked with bulging red veins, and it dripped mucous-laden tears incessantly. The viscous tears stunk as they puddled on the ground. This was the fabled Eye of Cthulhu, somehow the very same eye which had hung for decades behind his stepfather's eyepatch.
Dank felt fear for the first time in years and thought of running. Just then, he heard shrieks coming from his house - basketball-sized minions of the great eye had broken in and were tormenting the denizens of his shack. They squealed in fear as they fled the beasts. At the sound of this, the cacophony of voices in Dank's mind fell silent, the tumult of his soul coming to a blessed stillness. He looked at the villagers. He looked down at the flaming mace hanging from his hand, resting on the ground like a tiger preparing to pounce. With steel resolve and feet planted firmly on the soil below, he turned his adamantine glare upwards. For the first time, he met the eye not out of compulsion from his stepfather, but of his own free will. He knew all at once who he was. He knew all at once why he had been brought here. He was DankBlazer420, herald of the demise of the wicked. This land would be free again.
He screamed like a panther, leaping into the air and swinging his fiery mace in a tremendous arc before bringing the red-hot morningstar down, directly onto the eye's obsidian pupil. The beast shrieked in pain and rage, unable to comprehend what was happening. Dank retrieved a javelin from his backpack and flung it with impossible force through the air. The javelin whistled at it speared through the air before piercing the eye through the front and all the way out through the retina, sending black blood pouring through the exit wound, flooding the earth with gore. The beast cried out, shaking the ground with its horrible scream. It spun in the air at an unbelievable velocity, and when it stopped, the front of the eye had become a gaping maw lined with razor-sharp teeth as long as spears.
Dank reached into his bag for the final time, retrieving his trusty spear. He leapt into the air, holding the spear over his head with both hands, flying directly into the monster's abyssal mouth. He stabbed downwards, shattering its teeth, boring through it's tongue. He turned the spearpoint and began to stab upwards through the beast's palate, piercing it's uvula. Blood filled the mouth as the eye, flailing about in the throes of death, fell to the cold ground. Dank crawled out, covered in quickly coagulating blood and thick, foul saliva, coughing to clear the filth from his mouth and lungs. As he collected himself and clambered up to his feet, he saw the villagers standing around him in a semicircle, their eyes wide and mouths agape. Silence met him as he looked into their unbelieving eyes. One of the villagers began to slowly clap. The rest followed suit, cheering and clapping in thunderous applause. They hoisted him onto their shoulders as they sang with joy, carrying him back to his house. That night, Dank and the villagers reveled long into the wee hours, dancing the dance of hope. That which they had been suspecting had revealed itself to be true - a hero had arrived to free them from their wicked masters.