Soon, the party would begin. Rowan wandered the town he had built from the ground up. Luigi, the painter, supervised the tying of balloons to various locations, in purple, green, and red varieties. Trixy, the party girl, was having a blast. She bounced up and down the street with party items. Already, bubbles started to rise over the rooftops of houses. She passed out party hats to all the guests, in a multitude of colors.
“Catch!” She threw a cyan hat at Rowan, which he just barely caught.
“Thanks,” he said.
“No problemo!” she shouted before heading over to Leonardo and his crew.
Eventually, Rowan had wandered far enough to the point where he was nearing the edge of town. Suddenly, there was a BOOM!
“What the heck?” Rowan shouted. He, along with a few other guests, ran over to the sound of the explosion - a field at the side of town.
There, Beldin sat in a small crater. His yellow construction helmet, now charred, sat in a pile of dirt. His orange beard was singed.
“Note to self,” he said, looking at Rowan, “Don’t stand next to your about-to-blow up firework display test.”
“Are you okay?” Abigail said, adjusting her white cap. “You’re seriously going to burn down all our homes at this rate.”
“Uh-huh,” Beldin patted his pants down and stood up. “So is the beer ready yet?”
“Nope, William is still cooking food,” Rowan said.
“Figures,” Beldin replied. “I suppose I’ll go detonate some more bombs or something.”
“NO!” Abigail shouted.
“I’m kiddin’,” Beldin said. “Bombs are way too pre-hardmode. It’s either dynamite or bust.
“Oh, come on, now I know you’re joking,” Rowan said.
“Ah, you figured it out, wise one,” Beldin said. “Well, I’m going to go see what old’ Shooter McShooty Face is up to.”
“Is that your nickname for Andre?” Abigail asked.
“The guy is always guns’a blazing.”
“Right,” Rowan said. “Do you guys have any idea where the heck Ryan is?”
“Mr. Know-it-All? I dunno. I saw him over by the blacksmithin’ place, but that was a while ago.” Beldin picked up his helmet and shook the dirt out. “Crud, my helmet is ruined. Where the ‘eck is that clothier guy?”
Rowan set out for the blacksmithing hub. Since defeating Cthulhu, its usefulness had waned, but they still kept it around in case something broke. Finally, he spotted Ryan standing outside the front door, with a mug of pale yellow liquid in it.
“Ahh,” Ryan said after a sip, “Good ol’ champagne.”
“Oh, the alcohol is ready?” Rowan asked.
“Oh, by the way, did you manage to get the traveling merchant to come on over?”
“Oh yeah, of course,” Ryan said, “He’s setting up an exotic food and goods stand by town square.”
“Alright, thanks,” Rowan said.
Town square was much more colorful than the last time he had seen it. The balloons and streamers were now all over the place. Machines spat out columns of bubbles and it seemed like Trixy had set up some moody, orange lava lamps. Green cannons shot out blasts of confetti, which now coated the ground. There was even a colorful pigronata tied to a balcony. It sort of looked like a pigron, and Rowan hated those things. He was glad he would be able to beat the heck out of one.
For a couple of hours, they partied. The traveling merchant’s sushi instantly made him incredibly popular (although, he made them pay). William had cooked up all sorts of food, from jello to ice cream to lasagna, and all of it tasted delicious. And of course, there was beer. Lots of it.
The whole time, the Angler was having a blast pranking everyone. He seemed to have saved dozens of fish for this one event. It seemed like Rowan couldn’t turn the corner without running into a bumblebee tuna, skeleton fish, or even a bloody manowar. (Those things were disgusting and ruined his appetite.) By the time he got a slice of anniversary cake, he had learned to check all his food for fish.
“You know,” Omicron said, tapping his visor, “there are some flashing lights up in the sky over there. Looks real suspicious, if you ask me.”
“Huh?” Rowan looked up. “Just probably some party gimmick.”
“No, wait! UFOs!” Omicron pointed. Three large, motherships were approaching.
“Martians? Are you kidding me? I thought we killed the Moon Lord!” Rowan muttered.
“Just when I thought I could spend a day relaxing, without doing surgery,” Abigail said.
“Well at least we get to blow things up!” Beldin cackled.
“I brought plenty of ammo!” Andre said.
All the while, Omicron’s visor glowed red. But, it wasn’t just three motherships. As the minutes passed more seemed to appear from thin air - five, then ten, twenty, fifty, even more. By the time they had gotten ready for battle there seemed to be thousands.
“What the hell?” Ryan said.
“Hold on a minute, is the Moon Lord getting revenge or something?” Andre asked, cocking his shotgun. “Even I can’t deal with this… oh god.”
“We’re DOOMED!” Abigail shouted.
“HAHAHAHA!” Omicron said, buckling over in laughter.
“What the heck, dude!” Andre said. “There’s a freaking horde of- wait…” He looked back up at the sky. Indeed, there was nothing there.
“It was a HOLOGRAM! A HOLOGRAM! HAHAHA!” Omicron said. “All of you guys fell for it!”\
Andre pointed his shotgun at the cyborg. “Get out.”
“Oh, come on. Let’s go destroy the pigronata, guys,” Abigail said.
All the townspeople gathered around the pigronata, except Omicron, since Beldin had chased him out with a stick of dynamite. Everybody took turns hitting at it with a zombie arm, but it was as tough as luminite. Finally, it was Andre’s turn. He smacked the pigronata several times, but it wouldn’t break.
“Screw this zombie arm!” He tossed it to the side, and pulled out his S.D.M.G, a dolphin shaped machine gun with a bionic casing. He adjusted the blindfold and pointed the gun at the pigronata.
“KA-POW!” he said, as a stream of colorful bullets poured out. Confetti. It was confetti.
“Ah-hah! That pigronata is dead for sure!” he said. Everybody burst out in laughter. “What’s so funny?” He pulled off his blindfold. “Hey, now wait a second. Why is it still there? And what’s with all the confetti?”
“Man, you should’ve seen the look on your face!” Luigi said.
“Well, too bad. I have more guns. My flintlock, for instance.” He reached into his belt and pulled out a small, green pistol. Everybody started laughing again. “Oh come on, what is it no- Seriously, a water gun? WHO TOOK MY PISTOL?”
Omicron walked into the crowd, twirling a flintlock in his hands. “You mean this one?”
“Hey, I thought Beldin blew you up. That’s it, I’m using the Star Cannon.” He grabbed his star cannon - a large, bulky purple gun with a star emblem and a gray barrel. He aimed it at the pigronata. “FIRE!”
Something shot out of the barrel, but instead of hitting the pigronata it blasted up into the sky, before exploding into a colorful display. Just then, more fireworks started to rise, in all sorts of colors and shapes. One even depicted Cthulhu being slain, honoring the 1st anniversary of his death.
“Do any of my guns work?” Andre asked.
“Not anymore,” Beldin said.
“I hate you all.”
Rowan walked over and slashed the pigronata with his Meowmere. It collapsed into a heap on the ground. And in the middle of the pile of paper mache, there sat only one item.
A pulsing, oozing, bloody manowar.