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Prologue[]
The world of Minecraftia contained the four kingdoms. The North, South, East, and West. The South was the main production of farms. The West had miners who traded with the peaceful citizens of the Nether(known as the Piglins). The East was where all the four kingdoms met together to trade once a year on the 10th of August it was also home to the grey-skinned counterpart of the villager, Illagers. And the North was the institutional kingdom. All students went there. The 'Great' Kingdom(as it was called due to it's astounding cities) was also know for it's warriors, and great cities, as well as armor that could stop the freezing in the End, and thus they were allies to the armies of The End.
There were other islands as well. Such as, the Pirate Islands of the West. Where outlaws and criminals lived, smugglers and bounty hunters, and other treacherous characters, and beings. And finally there was the Mushroom Island of the North. Owned by the richest out of all the rich that exist in this world. Being a private domain, and farm. All mushrooms, and prepared soup, came from that island.
But alas all of that peace was going to come to an end. The necromancer and wizard, Herobrine, who was once known for his scientific research and discoveries in The Nether lost his mind as he needed to satisfy his hunger for power. His heart turned sour and black, and thus the The Great War had started. Wanting to rule all the kingdoms, he allied the Piglins, who were led by Piglin Brutes, a much more powerful, greedier, and spiteful version of the Piglins. They stormed the South, decimating farms and murdering farmers and their families with no mercy. The Wither, Herobrine's creation led the undead and supernatural of the Nether. Causing even more havoc, and as long as it remained active the monsters would always survive.
The Illagers meanwhile were tricked by Herobrine, to believing that the citizens of The East had committed thievery and had stolen all of their precious emeralds. Thus, they became greedy and selfish. They quickly turned on their counterparts and on the men of The East. Led by the Arch-Illager, their forces could not be met with the forces of The East, which quickly fell under the rising pressure of The Illagers.
The West was subdued to Herobrine's zombies and skeletons and monsters of all shape and form. Though that wasn't the worst part. You see, Herobrine had another army. From The End. No, not the Endermen.
The North had been spectating all this horror happen, but nothing came for them. At least not yet. What they first heard of was The End being decimated. And suddenly, they were under attack. It came like a wave, of Endermen. Not their regular Endermen, but one's carrying a purple stripe. They were given the name as Khorzug Endermen.
Herobrine's reign was truly devastating. But a group of six, led by Alex and Steve, quite famous adventurers if I do say so myself, gathered the remaining armies of the kingdoms, and fought back. The six then proceeded to head to The North to deal with Herobrine. Days and nights passed, and soon there were news of Herobrine's defeat. All that was left of him was a severed leg and arm. He was defeated. Yet the two heroes(Alex and Steve) who had ended his terrible reign were nowhere to be found.
And thus, the war was ended. The Arch-Illager disappeared off the face of the world, and the Illagers were scattered throughout the South and East. The armies of The Nether faded as The Wither shut itself off. The Piglin Brutes, too cowardly to do anything, hid away in the deep darks of The Nether. And The Piglins continued their peaceful lives. The undead of The West were stowed away in the deepest and darkest caves. And finally The Khorzug Endermen, were given a small chunk of land that they had to remain. If any suspicious activity occurred, they would be slain.
The stories of the machine known as The Wither, became a legend. Herobrine and the battle between Steve and Alex, became folklore. And thus things were forgotten. But deep down, people knew, this war wasn't over yet.
Chapter 1[]
80 years later[]
'The world has changed. The fires and tyranny were forgotten, and soon they all forgot.'
Van Steymer shut the book, and leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes and letting out a sigh. He sat on his balcony, outside his lovely home. Two-floored, and fitted with everything to his standards. A fine dining table, with more than a couple chairs(even though he himself, and only himself lived there), a living room, with a brick built furnace, a pantry, and two bathrooms which were quite clean, and lets not forget his bedroom, and all of that was over-looking a large and spacious field of sweet yet deadly berry bushes, carrots, potatoes, and other vegetation fit to his diet.
He placed the book down, on a small table, designed out of dark oak, and was quite cute(to his standards). The title of the book read, 'The Legends of Herobrine'. Quite a merry folktale if I do say so myself.
Life in the middle South was peaceful, away from all those traders of The East, The Western miners, and The Northern armies. It was hot at times; sure. But very peaceful. He continued his day by making himself breakfast, and eating it calm fully, staring out the window at certain times.
He continued by going outside and now sitting on his porch to smoke, before getting ready to start farming for the day. He noticed an old man walk by, but took no notice of him, in fact until the old man sat down near him, brown eyes, grey hair, short beard, but long hair. He groaned as he sat down, and his sword was revealed under his robes, as he leaned against his cane. Van didn't quite know this man, and was very suspicious of him eyeing the man. But the silence ended when the man spoke up.
"Hello."
Van looked at him silently before muttering, "H- Hi."
"You have a nice farm, very; organized," the old man smiled, and continued staring off into the distance.
"Th- Thank you, " Van continued staring at his fields, before taking out the pipe from his mouth and turning towards the old man and asking. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"
The man licked his lips before answering, " I know who you are, you don't know who I am."
"Well... then who are you?"
"I am Skizyx, a lone wanderer, adventurer, " he paused for a second. "People call me a hobo as well... but we won't get into that. I am in need of a farmer, for a journey I will be going on."
"Very... well, and why do you need exactly me?" Van asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, you're the best herb specialist in the South, or, the most smartest herbalist in all of Minecraftia..."
"Very, well? What's in it for me?"
The old man went silent for ten seconds, which turned into a whole thirty seconds. And soon into a whole minute. Finally he replied, "I will fund your farm, for..." He paused. "Two years? Which would be equivalent to... four-hundred emeralds."
Van thought for a second silently. "Deal! When do we leave?"
Skizyx took a look at him, before with a blank face saying, "Now."
So thus Van proceeded to gather and pack his stuff, essentials. Clothes, food, water, a cloth to spend the nights, and several utensils. After about an hour he headed back outside.
"Ready?" The old man asked smiling.
"Y- Yes."
"Where's your weapon?"
Van gaped, "W- Weapon? Excuse me?"
"Well yes, we might run into some shady characters along the way. Oh well, I'll ask one of the guys to get you one when we get there."
"Excuse me? Guys? I thought it was only us."
"Oh no, you see. The East needs all representatives. There's going to be the two of us. Two more from the South as well, believe their names were... Nareh and Staje. Three members from the North, Glade, Spade. brothers I believe, and then Koro. And finally three more members from the West. Cheros, Lod, and I believe his name is Pot."
"Is that it?"
"Yes, now. Alas, we must get going, we can't wait for long."
"Why is that?"
Skizyx raised his finger, "We need a farmer for the meeting of the lords! And you will come."
"Why me? And for what reason?"
"Why you?" He chuckled. "Because I chose you, and the reason that you are well known in the upper parts of the East," he muttered. "The reason, Van. There is a crisis, and the king might want to ask you some questions. And; no one else is smart enough to grow crops from our company." He smiled.
"Very well," Van let out a long sigh.
And alas with those words they left Van's home. Van's home was left, almost abandoned. People had wondered where he had gone, there were some that said, 'He was kidnapped!' And some that had speculated that 'He abandoned his home for a new life!' And a lot of wild speculations and crazy theories had gone through his small little town. But thus, as several weeks passed, they stopped caring, some still wondered, but harvest season was coming up, and the farmers and gardeners had to prepare to begin harvesting their stock.
Meanwhile Van and Skyzix traversed the yellow hills of the South, and the Skehrdos(sk-er-dos) woods, tall trees towering over them. Soon, the farms faded away, and they truly had now; advanced into the wild. Soon, the hills turned to towering mountains, and snow could be seen at the very tip, the peaks. The cute little birds that were found in the woods, have turned to hawks and vultures soaring above their heads. The pair continued travelling. Near waterfalls, lakes, rivers, woods, and old shacks that were long abandoned.
But that wasn't it. They passed several towns, and every town they passed, the people became more sour and sour. The towns became darker, the roads, narrower. At times he would see several people gathered in the alleyways. Van remembers how everyone who lived in his would always be welcoming, and glad to have some company. If any that is. These people were rude, often spitting at passing-byres, and screaming profanity. 'Possible psychos' was often Van's thoughts.
The weather also seemed to become more foul, as it was one of these rude and greedy people that settled themselves in this part of the South . Rains were becoming more common, and so was the thunder. They often were delayed because of weather they hadn't predicted. But soon, they finally got to where they were intended to meet with the other members.
The Bridge of Teres.
Chapter 2[]
Upon arrival, they were met with unfamiliar faces. Both, bland, and glad. Some had beards, some did not. Several carried swords. Koro was paired a bow. And a large brute, Pot carried a large mace, twice his size. Nareh smiled at the pair, before turning bland again. "You're late."
"Yes yes. I know," Skizyx replied. "There were several setbacks that happened along the way."
"We could've taken the horses. Or better yet, the Nether. Instead of traversing the lands of the South, West, and North," He pointed to the others. "Just to head to the East. What could be a day's of a journey, turns into weeks! Months! For god's sake, please pick bet-"
"Do not argue with me Nareh Spal-Thrashnos! Would you wish to murder your horses from not only exhaustion but starvation as well!? Perhaps drowning them would cease their suffering! And believe me, the Nether is no place for us! Only foul people and idiots such as you try to thrive there!" The old man interrupted, before letting out a sigh. "We must begin moving. We do not want to be late."
And thus, they began moving yet again. No breakfast, no stop. The party quickly spread into groups of discussion, only leaving Skizyx and Van out. Mostly because no one knew Van, nor wanted to hear about his facts of farming and herbs. And for Skizyx, well he mostly remained up front, silently muttering to himself, different things. Whether it was about the disappointment and stupidity Nareh gave him earlier, or the fact that he decided to bring an out of shape farmer along. Sometimes he wondered if it was even a great idea to head to this meeting. Though he knew he must. He was the South's representative along with the three other Southerners he had brought with him.
But alas, the journey continued. And as the days passed they became more silent and silent, as they began running out of topics to talk about, and no one, I repeat no one still wanted to hear to Van's facts.
"This is it gentlemen," Skizyx began. "Though most of you do not deserve that title... Either way! We have reached the border of the South. From here on we may encounter things we do not wish to bring upon us. The Forests of the East are not forgiving nor friendly. Be wary."
He took a single step, and he was in the East. The others followed, barely recognizing that they had crossed the kingdoms borders.
They set up camp around 32 kilometres east from the borders of the Grand West City; Syzeriea, and 12 kilometres North from the closest Southern Village. They set up camp on a cliff, overhanging a large ravine, which supposedly stretched two kilometres in length. They had dropped their rags, bags, and clothes on the floor; for sleeping of course, and had set up a fire, and a kettle. Where the so called, 'King of Chub' Lod, would cook his famous beetroot soup, designed especially for travel, and used beetroots, which could stay at a good and favorable state for quite some time.
Each one received a bowl, and a spoon, and they all got to eating. While they were eating, Skizyx and Nareh discussed the path that would be taken next. Nareh insisted that they should take the shorter way, going further North-East, but Skizyx forced them to go more North-West.
"And why is that!? Why should we take the longer path. It will take us days just to get around, th- this," he pointed to the map. "Little area!" He scoffed.
"It will take us longer, yet it'll be more safer."
"Yes, but we cannot be late! We're several days behind schedule, and if you didn't forget, but all the kingdoms," he paused. "Except the East, are gathered here being led by you. And if we're late there won't be a meeting of the four kingdoms!"
Skizyx let out a long and deep sigh. "If we go the way you recommend, then we will end up being closer to the Krayment Outpost, one of the largest Pillager Outposts of the East! Hosting more than 200 Pillagers, and enough beasts to devour whole armies!"
"Very well, then. Have it your way, but if we are late, this burden will be on your shoulders."
Suddenly, the whole group was interrupted by a loud growl coming from across the ravine. They all turned to silence.
"What was that?" Van squeaked.
No one answered except Skizyx, "Put the fire out quick!" He hissed. "Then get down near me."
"What was that?" Van hissed again, very silently this time, crouching near Skizyx behind a rock.
And Skizyx without turning answered, "A ravager." Ending with Van sighing.
By now everyone was crouching staring across the ravine. Looking for movement. And out of the corner of Van's eye, he could see the shape of a large bull, a grey-skinned villager wielding a crossbow looked across the ravine. You could hear him softly grunting and the Ravager breathing.
"We have to do this quick, " Skizyx hissed.
Koro jumped out, managing to get onto of the boulder and prepare his bow. He fired. The Pillager couldn't even react before an arrow was in his head. His eyes rolled up and he fell off, dead. The Ravager roared, and three shots were required this time to kill it. It groaned, before turning over and rolling off into the ravine. A large and distant thud could be heard.
They went around the ravine and approached the exact same place the Ravager was standing minutes earlier.
"It's a scout!" Nareh shouted.
"If it's a scout, I believe you should remain silent," Skizyx said scouting the area, before unsheathing his sword.
"If there's a Pillager scout," Spade began.
"There must be an Outpost pack nearby," Glade finished.
"That doesn't concern me my dear Glade and Spade. What does is the fact that these Pillagers are so far West..." Skizyx continued scouting the woods.
Then a glow could be seen from quite far away. A soft glow, not too bright, nor dark. It seemed as if it was a campfire. The group approached the glow, and from what they could tell, it was a large gathering of Pillagers, huddled around the fire, drinking, eating, boasting. Several Ravagers were in pens that were possibly set up.
Skizyx motioned to everyone to get up on the trees, as the gathered Pillagers would eventually notice them if they stayed on the floor. But today luck was with them, the darkness of the night covered them, and they all managed to get up to safety.
Koro, threw his green hood over his head, "This is no group, it's a whole outpost." He wiped his nose staring grimly at the group.
The company sat in the trees for quite a while, some of were calm, some were anxious for their safety, and some were surprised at the fact that they haven't been caught yet. Suddenly the murmuring of the Pillagers went silent. All of them turned their heads to stare down at the Illager-Folk, as a fairly large Pillager opened one of their Mobile Cages. From there he dragged out a tied-up Wanderer. His blue cloak was nowhere to be seen, and his red mouth-covering was gone. Bruises and scratches covered his body. An apple was stuffed in his mouth. He was placed in front of their fire pit.
"Are they going to eat him?" Van squeaked ever so silently out of fear.
Skizyx whispered, "Pillagers are cultists, not cannibals." Thus answering Van's question.
"That explains the llamas," Cheros whispered taking his glance away from the cooked llamas and back to the Wandering Trader.
A Pillager, covered by a red and blue face mask, came forward, pulling out a stone sword, and raising it high over his head as he approached the now whimpering Wanderer. The tension grew, and as the seconds passed the Traders life was coming closer and closer to an end. A terrifying one, not one any man or villager wishes to have. Suddenly, the masked Pillager grunted, as an arrow appeared to have pierced him. His sword fell to the ground, just as he fell to his knees, and then to his stomach, dead.
Koro pulled another arrow from his quiver, shooting another Pillager. By now the enemies had realized where the arrows were coming from, and began to get on their steeds, the Ravagers.
Pot jumped down from the tree, swatting away a couple of Pillagers with his large bare hand, before grabbing the alarmed and panicked, tied up Wanderer, and threw him over his shoulder.
"We must get to the fields! We can take them out there easier!" Skyzix shouted, climbing down the tree and taking out several Pillagers.
Thus the group began scurrying through the woods, while behind them a whole outpost rode on massive beasts, firing arrows, and grunting.
"We have to get out the woods! They're too powerful here!" Staje shouted as he dodged more arrows.
It was a mess. The group was panicking and running, the Wanderer being dragged on the ground, as Pot pulled him. And the Pillagers, on their Ravagers, were slowly catching up. They came across a large field, no trees were to be seen, and to the side a large and steep cliff was extending from the mountains to the left of them. The Ravagers rammed their way out of the trees, and continued sprinting after our heroes.
The party turned around facing the screaming Pillagers, knowing that they had to fight their way out, they began slashing and firing arrows. One by one the Pillagers fell to their death. Staje managed to get a hold of a Ravager, and began slicing and stabbing Pillagers that were mounted on the beasts, before impaling the poor monsters head, and jumping off of it, as it rolled down the little hills of the plain; dead.
Soon, with effort most of the Pillagers were either defeated, or in the process of being beaten. Nareh, being a bit too arrogant, proceeded to boast to his defeated enemies. Skyzix knew that this is not what will bring victory to a warrior, but he was too busy slaying his own enemies.
Suddenly an iron ax makes contact with Nareh's body and sends him flying into the air. He lands on the ground, his sword being no more than 8 metres away; he lets out a grunt, trying to get up, as in his sense of view he sees a Vindicator. Looking exactly like a Pillager, this foul creature wore a different suit, and carried an iron ax. Nareh jumps to his sword dodging another one of the Vindicators's swing. He proceeded to charge the enemy, while the Vindicator muttered something to himself in Illagerish.
While this fight occurred, on the complete other side of the hill, Van stood, in shock. He had no weapon(not like he ever used one), and he never killed a thing, and he did not intend to. While he was spinning in utter fear, hearing and seeing his comrades defeating the Pillagers, he heard a grunt behind him. He turned around and his face went white, a large two block tall Ravager, this one did not have a rider luckily. But what Van didn't realize was that the rider made the Ravager go slightly slower. The beast roared, and Van let out a slight whimper. He began to run the other way, ignoring the shouts of his new friends, telling him not to turn his back to the monster while fighting off the Pillagers. He began running uphill, getting tired as every second passed. The Ravager had no problem though and was catching up with every block it placed it's thick and muscular leg on.
Cheros seeing the situation Van was in flung his second sword to Van, hitting him on the head and making him collapse. He fell with an 'oomph'. But he wasn't out for long. A second passed before he managed to lift his head up, and grab the sword. It was heavier than any hoe Van had ever held. The Ravager did not care though, it was now no more that ten metres away from Van. He continued sprinting. He sprinted past the peak of the grassy hill, past Nareh who was now on the floor, and about to be killed by the Vindicator. Luckily the beast did not stop and let its master finish the job, and rammed him down. Leaving him in a pile of dead and rotting Illager flesh. Thus not only easing up the situation and relieving the company, but it also saved its own enemy. But it's target was still on sight. Van kept sprinting until he reached the wall of the cliff, there was no proper way up, and even then he would not climb such a steep cliff. He knew he had to stand his ground. He faced the roaring and sprinting Ravager, and held out his sword in front with a tight grip, and squeezed his eyes so hard that the eyelids hurt. He felt pressure on the sword, and heard the Ravagers groan, before opening his eyes and realizing that he had impaled the now dead Ravagers head.
The creature was now on its stomach, its legs out stretched and a foul smell began to rise. Van pulled the sword with strength from it's thick skull. And managed to get around safely. The small battle continued, and our group was victorious, the Pillagers, seeing that their leader was dead, and that they were now small in numbers fled.
The poor Wanderer was set onto the ground and untied. He thanked the company for not only saving his life, but his job as well, before offering them to buy something off of him. Skyzix in Villagerish, told him to go home and rest. With those words the Wanderer was left alone, in the East.
The outpost Illagers were recognized to be from the Krayment Outpost in the East. And alas, the whole outpost was gone. But Skyzix didn't care about the fact that the Outpost had been abandoned, and the Pillagers were led by a much more stronger character. What he wondered was why were the Pillagers heading to the direction of the West Mansion?
This puzzled him greatly as the nights and days passed, but he mentioned this to no one, keeping it to himself... for now.
Chapter 3[]
You could tell you were in the East just by looking around. The East-West was colder, and more rigid than the sunny plains and fields of the South. With large Coniferous trees. Life was tough there, which is why the Illagers had been sent there, to live, and hopefully; slowly die out. The side closer to the vast ocean of the East was full of life. Oasis's and large plains were expected to be found there. Small villages, and large towns, full of traders from all over the world. And people, both young and old.
And controlling that side of the East was no greater city found on the right side of Minecraftia. Syzeriea(Sy-ze-ri-ya). Full of lumbers willing to offer a trade from the North, and farmers trying to sell their offerings for a cheap buck from the South. The walls were wooden, but a large moat full of water surrounded the walls. The two entrances(West and North) were the only ways in or out. The city was built on a large mountain. Houses, shops, and villas all resided on the slopes and bottom of the mountain. And at the very top, a large peak extended from the mountain itself stood, shining down bright-white light upon everyone. The castle, and the Tower of Light. Two large statues stood in front of the castle. Known far and wide, as the meeting place of all lords, ranging from the cold North, to the far reaches of the South. The representatives were, Nareh for the South, Glade for the North, and Cheros for the West.
"Soon, the Easterners will join me and Nareh in the meeting. You and the rest will stay here and wait, feel free to do whatever you wish as long as you don't go outside the border. I do not dare lose a single soul while attending these meets... not again at least."
The three representatives and their three supporters entered the peak. Most of them were unhappy, as you had to take a water elevator to reach the top. And water elevators weren't exactly the most comfortable things in the world. But, alas, it was their only way up.
After reaching and passing the elevator, and exiting it being extremely wet, they proceeded to be greeted by Merkin, the East representative, as well as his two supporters, Dane and Zeroh. Then all, nine of them entered the throne room, greeted by the king of the East. Ventur. The throne room was huge, if estimated, it was at least fifteen metres in length, and thirty metres in width. Large sand-green pillars surrounded it, having a rough texture and seemed unpolished to the touch. The floors were clear quartz, and a checkered diorite pattern was added to it and in the very back of the room; was the kings throne. Made out of fine gold, smooth and polished. Shining even to a slight glow, and on top of it was a large and stupendous crystal. A diamond. A table stood infront of the throne, large in size. Several chairs were laid throughout it. It was wooden, and seemed cheap and strange to find it in the household of a rich and fine king.
They all proceeded to sit down silently, before the king spoke, "I expected you six sooner," he pointed his fingers at our hero's. "But, that's not an issue now. The issue at hand now is... Well, you must know why."
Nareh spoke up, " It took us around half a month to get here. We had... lets say some difficulties when we were passing the Woods of Fazeg."
"Well," The king paused. "My contemplation's, either way we have a crisis. How? Well, first off, the East is getting less traders as time passes. Why is that? The South hasn't gathered its harvest yet, why? The West is being lazy in terms of not producing any minerals and ores."
Glade spoke up, "That's really your problem. Everyone is doing completely fine, except the East. You guys will have a crisis, not us. What I think we should be looking at are the Mushroom Isl-"
He was cut off, "Do not dare you mention the Islands to me! They are outside our boundary and none of our concern!"
"Yet, we rely the most on it," Skyzix muttered.
"What I think we should be looking at is the rumors," Cheros finally spoke looking around.
"That is true," Spade spoke. "Glade and everyone here including me were attacked by Pillagers on the road. They were heading towards, the Western Mansion," He whispered.
"And let me remind you Venture," Skyzix said. "That there has been only one time when Pillagers were allowed to enter into the Mansions."
"Yeah, it is nearly November, and the Illager festival, Kuhmmmm(Ku-mmm). Back to the crisis," The king smacked his lips before proceeding. "Either way, I heard you had a fa-"
But he was cut off, "There had been rumors of a Piglin Brute wandering the Nether," said Glade. "Maybe you ar-"
"No more, No. More," The king had put his hand back down before turning to Skyzix and asking. "The farmer, maybe I can get something out of him?"
Skyzix obliged, and left the room to get Van. Everyone sat in silence staring at the paintings depicting great battles and skirmishes on the walls between the columns. Several minutes had passed before Skyzix opened the door, and let Van in.
"Ah Van Steymer, glad to meet you," Van bowed and stood near one of the pillars behind Skyzix's chair, as the king continued. "Tell me Van, why have the crops not been gathered yet? As you know if the harvest in the South is not gathered, some kingdoms will starve."
"Well," Van began. "There's been a slight Mycelium infestation." He chuckled lightly before continuing. "Been devouring whole farms."
"Stop!" The king raised his hand, and Van went silent. "No more about the Mushroom Islands, this... it's all but rumors.
But he was interrupted as murmuring went throughout the room, and that was all a build-up to them all shouting over each other. Some were shouting, "He has a point!" While others "You're a lying coward!"
It was not long before Nareh jumped onto the table, sword unsheathed; and Skyzix sitting near him silent, and disappointed. "You know where the farmers get their dirt from?! You! Your kingdom! And that dirt is gotten from where? Ohh, that's right; the Mushroom Islands!"
The room was silent, but not long after Nareh had finished shouting at the king that the chatter went up again.
"Silence, please," By this point the king was fed up. "Fine, fi-"
But the king was not noticed as everyone began shouting screaming rumors and theories that had been created through the centuries. Merkin was growing impatient, before slamming his sword against the table, " Enough! If you do not listen to the king, I'll gut you and use your insides as wall decoration!"
"Well that's a colorful threat, ain't it!?" Van snorted, before going silent as everyone stared at him.
The king seeing his opportunity began yet again. "Very well, you may head to the Nether, or wherever you wish. All of you! All! Head there, including you Merkin, and your companions." He turned his head slightly to Merkin before continuing. "Physical evidence. Bring it back to me, and we shall prepare. No evidence," he sighed. "And you'll all have a discussion with me, and your leaders... Now go, I have had enough of everyone here."
With those words the group along with Merkin and his two fellows, were escorted out of the kings majestic palace, to re-join the others waiting outside. Pot stood up, "Where are we going?"
But Skyzix, without any hesitation; shouted, "The Nether!" And thus the group were on their journey again. This wasn't what Van had hoped would've happened, and he instead would walk home... if only he knew the way. So instead he stuck with the rest of the company, fearing as to what they might find in the Nether. He knew, only bad things would come from this. The Nether was not for the weak ones.
Chapter 4[]
When the Nether was discovered, people far and wide built portals. Even on the small island of Mercil, two portals were constructed. After the Great War, all portals were forbidden, and banned, everywhere. Now only five portals exist in the Overworld. The portal of Mercil, The Piracian Portal found in the Outlaw islands. The Portal found in the Mushroom Fields, and the Portal Of The Kings. The great portal, found in the West. This portal is the entrance and exit of all men, women, and children. (The fifth portal is found in the South, hidden, and is technically illegal.)
The company had traveled to The Great Portal, they had passed many mountains and plains, peaks and forests, villages and towns. But alas, some were not used to the rough-weather of the West, and the grim Miners of the Caverns. Zeroh had gotten an illness, unknown of what cause. They had to keep moving though, and often Zeroh would say it was just a cold. He held on and marched along with everyone else for three weeks.
Finally he collapsed. From then on, people mourned silently. He had been buried in the exact place where he had fallen. The group had continued their journey eventually reaching Mercil. A small town standing on a large and open field, surrounded by a huge pine forest which contained over a dozen mines; where miners would be obtaining gold, lapis, redstone, emeralds, and occasionally the precious mineral known to mankind as... diamonds. These ores would be sold off to travelers, and the lords and ladies of the town.
The town itself was dark and gloomy, unlike the South-North towns, these would have people trying to rip a cheap buck off of you, and occasionally people would give you looks of death, often leaning against poles. Most of the town was created from stone-bricks and wood as their walls and roofs. Though that beauty was gone as most of it was overgrown with moss and vines. There were also several Horse Stalls, though no horses could be seen. And Van could in the very back, hidden in the dark, see a splotch of dried blood. He whimpered and scampered to the middle of the group.
The stalls were another matter. In other kingdoms players would wait and sit at their assigned stalls, shouting out and advertising from there. But here; in the West, the people would just stuff the materials into other people's faces, forcing them; most of the time, to buy something from them. The stalls were empty over eighty percent of the time.
But all of this mess and chaos was overlooked by a giant portal. It was around forty blocks in length, and twenty-seven blocks in width. It illuminated all, and thus now Van understood why this town lacked streetlamps. The portal was enclosed in a massive mountainous cliff. Miners, explorers, and Nether Dwellers could be seen coming out of it. But the portal was blocked by a large gate, one which you had to pay to enter.
Van was overwhelmed by the portal to even notice, that; to his left in an alleyway a man was being cornered. The three over-looking the poor soul took no notice of the company. Except one, who signaled to the two others before extending his arm, and the sword suddenly dove deep into the heart of the man, who was now laying on the ground; lifeless.
The company approached the gate, and were met face to face with the chubby, rude, and overall pig-looking gate guard.
He approached the group waddling, looking at a sheet of paper, before clearing his throat and looking up at the group, before squeaking out in a tone that would be considered unpolite, "What is your business in The Nether travelers?" He squinted at the group inspecting each and every one of them.
"We want to ask the Piglins if they have heard the rumors of th-" Nareh was kicked and shoved aside by Skyzix.
"We simply wish to see and talk to our old friends."
The guard raised an eyebrow, before getting out a list before asking, "Name?"
"Skyzix Theraos."
"Ohh yes, it says there are 13 of you, yet I see 12," The guard looked up slightly, raising an eyebrow expecting an answer.
"We did lose one on the way here."
"Oh," The guard did a slight bow. " My condolences... And it does say someone is from... the East..." The guards face became full of disgust, almost as if he had stepped in a big pile of poop. He hated Easterners, no he despised them. Everyone in the West did.
You see, the world of Minecraftia used Emeralds as currency. But only the East used Minecoins, which are created when Emeralds are melted and mixed with gold. And because the East only used Minecoins, the West demanded for the East to use Emeralds as everyone else. Thus a treaty was signed. Yet in fifty years that same exact treaty was broken. The West was outraged but alas did not wish to go to war; And even now; each kingdom despises each other heavily, silently, and hatefully.
But the guard remained silent, a sour expression now lay across his face. He proceeded to go back inside his booth for a few seconds, before coming back out. "Four-Hundred emeralds."
Now everyone(including Van himself) knew that the price for a dozen players entry into the Nether was two-hundred emeralds."
The guard turned their back on them, his expression was now overflown with hatred and spite, but no one from the company could see it, as he was now heading back to the booth to grab his payment bundle. But he was interrupted by Nareh who was now looking at him(as he had given his emeralds to Skyzix; who was now counting them by the piece).
"Why double the price?" He tapped on the sheath of his sword, but did not release the sword from the imprisonment of the sheath itself. "We all know you doubled it," Nareh then made a remark he should have kept to himself. "You old sack."
The guard's face became red, and you could almost see smoke blowing from his ears, "Why!? You, You- Pathetic young scum! Do not dare argue with me explorer! I will have the king contacte-" He' unsurprisingly was cut off.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." Nareh scoffs before turning around to face the group.
By now they had collected nearly all emeralds; but Skyzix was still counting. Around five minutes later, they had collected just over four-hundred emeralds. And as the guard collected the emeralds his expression was full with utter hatred, as; not only had Easterners managed to get past the gates so easily, but a rude man had not only insulted him, but ashamed him.
As they went up the stone brick staircase, the heat and glow of the portal slowly approached them more and more, until they were right at the doorstep of the Nether. The sounds of whooshing and faint shouting could be heard from the portal; the portal noises itself. But as Van came closer and close, he began to doubt whether or not it was a good idea for him to go into the Nether. He had heard the stories of Soulsand sinkholes, giant collapsing basalt stalactites, and dehydration, as well as tripping and meeting a a fiery end. He was about to say his thoughts but it was too late.
All he heard was a shout from Skyzix, "Jump!", and as he saw his fellow partners and comrades jump into the portal, he felt a tug on his collar; and before he knew it Staje had pulled him in.
He suddenly felt a slight cramp in his body, then an increasing pain. He screamed distortedly, his mind turning and spinning, he felt something enter his eyes, he screamed, grabbing hold of his head. He was thrown out of the portal and he felt his body touch the stony, yet soft netherack. But his head was still hurting, and his body aching. He stood up, barely able to see, he leaned over and wheezed before beginning to vomit.
By the time he was done, most people were ready and waiting to move on, people like Van could not handle the pressure going through the portal(as going through dimensions takes time to get useful). Van looked around; he was in the Nether.
Huge columns of lava could be seen flowing from the roofs, and a huge lava pool was seen close by with several Striders walking around and groaning. He looked to his right and saw a red forest. He could hear the pulsing of the red wart leaves, as they dripped a mysterious fluid. The logs were quite interesting as well, it looked as if some sort of red liquid was inside. pulsating in different shades of red. Vines ran down the wart blocks, red vines. With orange sharp ends protruding from them. He heard you could climb them, but he doubted it was safe. And all of this was lit up with a huge bunched up group of yellow orbs, known as Shroomlights which glowed and were usually found under the squelching and disgusting leaves of the Crimson trees.
He suddenly felt a great need for water. He settled his bundle down on the ground, searching for a bottle of water. But what he found was disappointing. The water had drained. He wasn't sure what had happened to it, as he clearly remembered that it was nearly full before they had gone in. He frowned as he stared up, puzzled.
While Nareh and Skyzix discussed what route they should take, and everyone else waiting, Van silently crept up to Pot, and silently whispered.
"You got some water?"
But Pot, unable to speak and thus could only let out a couple grunts and groans. He then shook his head, and Van understood that they were out of water. Not realizing that water was unable to exist in the Nether, he went to Skyzix, and explained that someone or something had drunk or emptied all of their water. Skyzix stared at him dumbfoundedly, before letting out a loud and bellowing laugh.
"The water was not drained! Water simply does not exist in the Nether."
Van, dumbstruck, and fear took over his body. "What shall we drink then!?"
Skyzix laughed again, "You will see, you will see..."
They continued walking past huge and tall trees with red veins. Van at some points could see glowstone on the roofs of the Nether and often thought as to how the Dwellers reached it. The ground was soft, and a lot of Nether vegetation was visible. After around an hour walk past cliffs and trees, they had reached a slight slope they had to go down. But before Skyzix could even begin going down, everyone heard a bow string pulled. The company turned around only to hear, "Ah! 'Tis you Skeizex!"
It was a player, one of them Dwellers. He was equipped with an iron sword which was located in its sheath, and the bow had; by now; gone around his shoulder and was hanging off. He wore light clothing, created from a slight leather tunic and pants. By now three other players had gone out from hiding. Two men and a woman. They were outfitted with the same fashion as the first man.
"I t'ought you were d'em passers, we were gon' to loot you," He softly laughed, before turning to Nareh. "I believe we haven' been introduc't yet. M' name is Charas, this," he pointed to the man furthest away who was now climbing a tree trying to reach a Shroomlight. "Is Deb. That do be Soren," He pointed to the other man, who was leaning against a tree swinging an ax. "And that is Terah."
"Yes, I know her," Nareh replied. "Thank you for the proper introduction." He said before slowly walking up to the female player. "Sister."
"Brother," she cried, before they interlocked in a sibling hug. "Fancy meeting you! It has been; what? Nine years?"
"Yes," He smiled slowly. "You left right before mom died."
They continued talking about their past life, while Charas crept up to Skyzix, "Shall we be on ou' way?"
Skyzix let out a slow laugh, "Please no, we are quite busy an-"
He was interrupted as Charas shouted, "Well whateva' you need help wit', I thin' I can certainl' help!"
Skyzix agreed and they were on the way. Van was puzzled as to who these people were, Skyzix seemed to know them quite well, and Nareh had been just reunited with his sister. Everyone else just walked in awkward silence.
They soon reached a shack. Old, originally made from Polished Blackstone Bricks, but it seemed that over the years it was patched with crimson planks, and some spots were patched with warped planks. The style was interesting. The windows were made out of fences, and the building seemed to be planted inside a Netherack mountain. Inside were huge rows of shelves, full with shroomlight, and potions, and gold, and other necessities needed in the Nether. They went past several people who were comparing similar things to each other, and were paying in emeralds quite slowly. The prices were high. Van stopped at one point to read a price of one Fire Resistance Potion.
'10 emeralds for 1 Potion'
Van's eyes widened as he realized that the price was overpriced. But he continued, and eventually caught up with everyone else as they entered further into the mountain. By now they were in the private quarters. The walls were made out of polished blackstone brick, they seemed to be old as some were cracked. The rooms were outlined with basalt pillars which had a rough texture. Small holes covered the surface of the pillars. Soon they entered a large dining room, created from Warped Planks, and yellow banners. A simple design and very bland. A large table sat in the middle outfitted with different types of carpet and leather backs.
"Please, fello' guests, take a seat'."
Van took a silent seat near Skyzix as the others leaned back and plummeted onto the chairs. Van leaned to Skyzix, "You seem to know these people well, and so does Nareh. Yet who are they? I assume they own a shop judging by the front. But are they raiders!?" Van cried.
"These people are very important to the Nether," Skyzix replied. "As they own the largest and most useful shop in the Nether, hundreds of sales every..." He stopped. "I'm not exactly sure if they have days or not. I do not know as to why they raid and rob people."
Suddenly Charas leaned in resting his elbows on the table. "I couldn' help overhearin' you' conversation o'er here, an' not answe' you' question. Min' if I do?"
Van looked around thinking for a second, "Sure, go ahead."
"Our sto'e is the mos' popu'ar because we ke'p a mid'le p'ofile wit' the peopl'. So we 'ob 'em and we sel' 'em important materia's. That way we can ke'p a medioc'e profil' wit' the people. That way they have to buy from us, ye' the' fear us."
He smiled as Van leaned back in his chair; trying to make out what Charas had told him. He was interrupted as Nareh rushed in placing pots of weird orange water on the table. Being strangely enough, extremely nice and cheerful. Nareh proceeded to pull a chair back near Van and fell into the seat, leaning back and placing one leg on the table.
Van turned to him, "What is this?" He pointed to the orange liquid, poking the cup and sniffing it momentarily.
"This," Nareh spat, smiling. "Is Nether water." He laughed before beginning to sip it loud and sloppily, blending in along with the other company members.
Now what Nareh called 'Nether water', is actually known as Shroom Juice. The water of the Nether. Created from obtaining a Shroomlight and ripping a Shroomfruit from the bundle. Cutting the fruit open will reveal liquid from the inside. Which is quite refreshing and a great replacement for water in the Nether,
And when Van swallowed his first gulp of the liquid, his pupils widened, and the sweetness felt greater than anything he had ever tasted. He completely drunk the whole pot in less than twenty seconds. He then turned his head and peeked through the fence. As he heard shouting outside.
He let out a frightened gasp as outside the window, a large lava pool lay. Three dwellers rode on Striders. Their grey hair waving, and their faces bouncing up and down as they groaned and sloshed through the lava. Suddenly, one of the riders managed to cause his strider to trip falling over into the lava. His screams could be overheard as Van froze in fear and returned to reality. He was still in the Nether.
By now everyone was nearly finished with the Shroom juice and Skyzix and Charas had begun talking.
"Anyway Skyzix, wha' can I help ya' wit'?"
Skzyix reached inside his cloak and puled out a map. Laying it along the table. It was a map of the Nether. Skyzix pointed to a spot on the map, "We are heading towards the Piglin Soul-Vilahe. to gather information on a topic I wouldn't dare wish to discuss here."
"Ah, Piglins'," Charas clicked his tounge as his face became gloomier. "Not very kind folks, hear' that the' be'n gettin' pret'y aggres'ive in the past months or so. I se' you'v' also chosen the vil'age furthest' and most' dif'ciult route to get to from the West portal."
Skyzix sighed deeply, "Well, I've known their chief since he was a youngling. I trust him with my heart and my life."
"Yet you' know that Piglins' are unpredictabl' and lyin' characters'."
Skyzix leaned back in his chair, sighing and rubbing his temples, "Just show us the route."
"Welp," Charas clicked his tounge yet again. "I ain't good wit' no maps. Maybe I can ask Soren. Yah, he pret' good at 'em."
Charas silently stood up and strode towards the check-outs, leaning in and asking Soren to help. He returned with a serious-expressed Soren. Who sat down across from Skyzix, before asking. "What are we looking for?"
"Well," Skyzix began. "The Soul-Vilahe, a Piglin village. Should be easy to spot on the map if you know the Nether well..." Skyzix stare slowly shifted towards the right-side of the room as awkward silence filled the room, while Soren looked over the map.
In about five minutes he replied, "You're heading South. I would say a fairly short journey. You will have to go through the Soul Sand Valley, but I assume that should be something you can work out easily."
He marked a point on the map with an arrow, before lifting his head to Skyzix. "You're ready to go."
Skyzix blankly stared at Soren, silently, before shouting and using the table to lift himself off the chair, "Yes. I am afraid we have lingered here for too long. And it is time we begin on our journey yet again."
Both Terah and Charas hesitated towards Skyzix's and Soren's statements, trying to stop them and often said, "You've only been here for an hour. How 'bout one mo' cup o' Juic'?"
But eventually, they had quit. The company had now made their way to the entrance, with Charas and Terah both standing near the door, wishing everyone a farewell. Since the next time they will possibly see each other might be in years. Soren and Deb were nowhere to be seen, but no one really paid attention nor cared, as they've been recently, just two sour apples.
Skyzix eventually came up to the front, he shook hands with Terah and came up to Charas. The two friends gave each other a slight hug, before Skyzix silently told him, "Don't worry, old friend. This isn't the last time we will meet. And I know what you're going to ask. Yes, I will keep funding your shop." They smiled, before Skyzix patted Charas on the shoulder and continued going.
Van had passed shaking both hands, and causing extreme awkwardness, as his hands were profusely shaking. Nareh had been passing behind Van, and silently shook Charas' hands. Though when he came up to his sister, they exchanged a hug.
By now everyone was outside. Back on the soft yet hard Crimson Nylium, and away from the comforting stools, drinks, and floors. The doors were shut and they had continued their journey. They didn't know how long it would take to reach the village. Hours? Days? Months? Then the question came if the Nether had days, before of course Charas had explained that the Nether didn't have time.
...
Deb and Soren came into the backrooms of the store. Where no one except the two of them would ever head to. Only occasionally Charas, who would come in for extra stock if it ran out. But the store was fully stocked, and it would stay like that for a while.
Soren silently shut and locked the door behind him, asking Deb. "Did you see them?"
"Yes."
"Pathetic humans," spat Soren.
"What now?"
"Send word to Master that we have located them. We wait for him, and trail them."
Deb scratched his head, before asking, "What do we do about, them?"
"Brutus will deal with them. As for the dead ones..."
He looked down upon two lifeless bodies, while Deb slowly took of his clothes and mask, revealing an emerald skin and face. While Soren silently opened his red eyes, and put on his white, shredded hood.
"... They won't be found."
Chapter 5[]
The company soon left the red and hot woods of the Crimson Forest, and had stepped foot into a new biome. This one was unusual to Van. As it was chilly, and felt like it didn't belong in the Nether. It was a large valley of sand, surrounded by the same sand on the walls and ceiling. This wasn't your regular warm, tan, sand, no. It was brown, cold, and had an unusual feel to it, as if you were stepping on dirt. The sand lay in a sort of wavy pattern. At points they would come to areas were the sand would feel like mud. Your legs would be half encased in it, sloshing around. And there were faces in it, as if souls were trapped inside and were groaning and moaning for you to help them out.
A blue mist covered the entire biome, and you would often see bones. Whether they were player bones, possibly someone who had died there; or large, monster-like one's. Ancient creatures. Their skeletons being twice or thrice the size of an Ender Dragon's complete skeleton. Sometimes you would see large basalt pillars, often reaching from the floor to the very tip-top of the ceiling. This was something Van had never expected, and something very strange and interesting to him, as he looked around wide-eyed.
By now they were in a straight line following each other. Daring not to step out of boundary. As if you do, you may end up at the bottom of the sand, and suffocate. Skyzix led the way, poking the ground with his stick, as he sloshed around the soul sand, making sure he was creating a safe path for the others. As they made their way through, eventually each one jumped from the soul sand back onto the soul soil.
When Glade and Spade came up Skyzix had stopped them, "I need you two to scout ahead. Find us a safe path."
They did not hesitate, and both had begun to sprint past the tired and cold members of the company. Around five minutes later they were around one-hundred or so, blocks in front of the company. So far, they had seen nothing serious.
Glade was in front and Spade led the back, often closely observing the surroundings, while his brother mindlessly sprinted forward. Suddenly Glade yelled, as he realized that he was at the edge of a soul sand ravine. Leading around one-hundred blocks down, lava at the very bottom. The walls created with layers of basalt, netherack, and soul sand. A basalt pillar laid in front of him located in the middle of the ravine. The ground gave beneath him, as he yelped and leapt back. His brother was now already behind him, grabbing him by the hood.
Koro had heard all the commotion, and was soon to be seen from behind the corner. Most other members came running after him not too long after.
"What happened?!" Nareh shouted as he stopped for a breath. "Di- Did someone die?!"
"No," Glade proceeded. "But it seems as if the ground in front of us had disappeared into a lava pit."
"Is there no way around!?" Dane had shouted.
"By the looks of it," spat Merkin. "No, there is no way around. We have to head back!"
"I am not so sure, my dear Merkin." Skyzix pointed to the pillar. "We can use the basalt pillar to jump over the ravine."
"Wh-" Van squeaked. "That doesn't seem safe!"
"It's the only way around Van. You can either head back, or move forward."
"Very well, I'll go last."
"No," laughed Staje. "Pot and Lod will."
Van looked behind him, at the two enormous characters, and gulped. One by one everyone jumped over the ravine, using the pillar as support. Balancing and helping each other out. Suddenly, when Staje was crossing(having Van, Pot, and Lod remain behind him), the pillar could take no more. It crumbled at the very bottom before beginning to collapse in the steaming lava. Staje jumped, Skyzix and Merkin catching him, and making sure he was on steady ground. The last three jumped over, with Van being thrown across by Lod.
They had continued after, not encountering any issues in the Soul Valley past the ravine. Soon they were at the end of the immersive and gigantic cave. A wave of heat was approaching them, and soon they went from being cold to extremely hot. They were back in the red forest. The blue mist faded and a more-reddish one settled in. But what really stood out, was the large village in front of them. The Piglin village. They had found it.
The village was located in the middle of a lush and vividly red, Crimson Valley. To one side, was a large, netherrack mountain, hosting homes and shops of several Nether-Dwellers. To the other, was a small hill, in the background it contained a large Crimson Forest. And to the East, was located the large and massive, Soul-Sand cave. The village was made up of a dozen of huts, and pens. The huts were made from Crimson planks, the Crimson trapdoors acted as their windows. The roof's were made from the red logs, as they illuminated soft, red light. They were simple homes, and represented the Acacia Villages of the South greatly, to Van at least.
As they approached the village ever so closely, eventually ending up inside it; Van could make out what was what much more clearer. He could hear the roars and grunting of the Hoglins, inside their ditch pens. Several Piglins were tending to them, carrying water and food to breed and slaughter them later for food. As they passed by the pen, a Piglin was launched by a Hoglin out of the pen. It squealed as the Piglin crashed through someone's roof, causing the whole hut to nearly collapse. Van's eyes were wide open, being both surprised and shocked.
As they continued, they got strange glances, and looks from the Piglins. Soon, they had reached the heart of the village. A large Crimson plank platform, where Piglins were busy trading materials with each other. A large staircase from the center led to the very top of the hill, near the Crimson Forest.
"Skyzix!" A large and booming raspy voice came from the staircase. Everyone turned towards the voice.
An old Piglin, outfitted with red and brown robes, and a strange wood crown, made his way down the stairs. Grunting as he used his staff, to make his way down.
By now, everyone was fascinated by all of the new characters and buildings around them. Some had started to wander. Skyzix, before coming with the Chief to the throne room, realized what could happen if his friends got in trouble with the Piglins.
“Everyone!” He snapped, ushering all of them to come near him. “Do not wander, stay here. Do not move, do not do anything. You do not want to mess around with the Piglins.”
He leaned away from their huddle, and shifted his direction towards the chief. Climbing up the seventy-five stairs that lead to the hall of the chief. When they had reached the end of the climb, Skyzix looked back. He could see his company now sitting on some netherrack. But something else had caught his eye right before entering the hall. In the very back, on the right, closest to the mountain, a large group of Piglins were training. Swords, crossbows, and bows.
If you did not know, after the war, the Piglins vowched never to wield a weapon, unless it was for hunting Hoglins, or doing the monthly slaughter of the Nether Pigs. And even in that case, they do not have full blown practices and training in large groups.
As they walked in and sat down, on a couple of fine, Hoglin leathered chairs. The room was made of polished Blackstone bricks, possibly remains of the ancient Bastions. The outer rims of the room were made from Crimson logs, the room was lit up with several glowstones, no windows could be seen in the room. A large table sat between them, hosting candles and several scattered papers. Then, the chief had begun.
“Skyziks!'' Piglins jaw was stretched out, as two large tusks portruded from his mouth. As he talked, spit flew out in all directions. Skyzix took no notice.
“Haglog! What has it been?” He smiled, softly chuckling.
“A while, a while,” Haglog trailed off. “Ethier vay, vat bhginssssss you here? Out of nowhere, quite tuly a surhprhising visit.”
He smacked his lips, as Skyzix continued, “I have come here to,” he paused, as one of the servants offered him a cup of Shroom Juice. He took it with delight, “Oh thank you. Either way, I have come here to ask you a question. A small one, shouldn’t be a problem to answer for you.”
“Yef?”
“There have been rumors of a Piglin Brute, supposedly roaming this very area. As you are the chief of this village, and a good friend; I trust you. And I hope you trust me, for I seek the truth.”
The Piglin paused for a long time. His expression changed. It went from being delightful, to quite… truly, in disgust. He raised his head slightly upwards, “No. I haf not seen or known about; this.”
His tone had shifted, Skyzix had noted this. Going from a cheery, friendly tone, to a tone of spite, hatred.
Skyzix stroked his mustache, “No need to be so aggressive. I was simply asking a question, and you have answered that question.”
“Very well then, le-”
“But! I do have one last question that has puzzled me greatly, ever since I came here,” Haglog let out a quiet growl. “What are your men doing, way in the back, training, as for it seems like; war?”
“Enouf!” Haglog roared, standing up, smacking his cup to the corner of the room, spilling the Shroom Juice. “You! You, Skyziks! Are intrhuding, on something that concerhns me! Not you! Me! It is none of yourh concerhn as to what my men arhe doing! None!”
Skyzix leaped up as well. Facing Haglog. The two stared off at each other, grim looks, Haglog, was huffing as well. You could hear him breathe deeply in the silence. Skyzix then silently spat in Piglish, “Kelg-Kuch-Ul Fehtehreh Chel, Can-Tul Rescech do-Tehr Kilekis!?(transll. How can you disrespect me, a man who responds to the kings?!)”
“Gah! Jod do-Tehr Hil! Ul-ad Chibs Ulr-Kilekis! Dray chibs-Chokolls Dup-hiup Tehr Hil!(transll. Ah! Go to the void! You and all your kings! May all humans end up in the Void!)”
Skyzix scoffed, silently grabbing his cane, hood, and sword, leaving the Piglin chief behind. He walked down silently, and as he passed his group, they all turned their heads towards him.
Cheros stood up, “Well? How’d it go!?”
Skyzix didn’t answer, and just walked straight passed, with an annoyed and angry face. Cheros shrugged as Nareh leapt from the seat, and ran after Skyzix. Everyone else remained seated, and Cheros looked off. Soon after, Nareh had gestured, for everyone to follow him. As they caught up, Skyzix was seated on some basalt, and Nareh was leaning against the pillar as well.
“Well then!?” Van asked.
“We’re heading home,” Skyzix stood up again, with the help of Nareh. “I’ve had enough of Piglins, and their idiocy. Something is going on, and they are hiding it! Lets go!”
They began moving, yet Van realized that he and the rest of them were not heading the same way they came from. Instead of entering the Soul cave, they had entered another Crimson forest. He began jogging up to the front, to Skyzix.
“Wh- Where are we going?!”
“To the South portal, to get you and everyone else home.”
Van stopped, as everyone else passed by him, not paying any attention to him. Suddenly something blocked Van’s view, a blinding light. He spun around facing the village. It was as if, in the very back, he could see someone up on the large mountain. Two figures, a character with something that looked like two hoes, dressed in something white. The other figure was green, and lit up their area quite well. Van was puzzled, but decided to continue, and catch up to the rest of the party.
Eventually after passing a large majority of this forest, and the edge of a Basalt Delta, they eventually reached a small cave. No more than five blocks wide and six blocks tall. A ledge around three blocks tall, leading to a large netherrack plain and several netherrack hills and cliffs. A path which seemed similar to where they were ambushed by Charas.
A small nether portal laid ahead of them. As Skyzix leaned against the side, while everyone proceeded to exit the Nether Merkin grabbed Skyzix by the sleeve.
“I need to talk to you, urgently, in private,” he whispered ever so slightly.
Skyzix nodded before telling Van, who was in the back and was leaving the Nether as of now, “Lead them to your home, Merkin and I will meet you all there in several minutes.”
Van grinned and nodded before disappearing from their eyes. Merkin proceeded to walk from Skyzix, before spinning around and by now he had begun pacing. Skyzix still leaning against the portal.
Merkin halted, they stood in silence for several seconds before Merkin had begun, “They are following us.”
“Yes,” Skyzix had replied, with the most bland and monotone voice, his gaze had not shifted from the floor as he was stroking his mustache.
“They will kill us, that won’t be a problem for them.”
Skyzix stood silent for another second, “Yep.”
“So, what do we do?”
“I- I do not know,” He looked up at Merkin. “We need more time…”
“We do not have time Skyzix! And you know that the Piglins are hiding something!”
“It is best if we discuss this inside the walls of Van’s house.”
Merkin did not refuse, and the two disappeared into the portal and back into the overworld. And outside the tunnel, crouched on the ledge, were the same figures that Van had seen earlier.
The hooded figure stood up, placing the two Netherite hoes behind him. The green one kept crouched.
“What do we do know?” Asked the green one.
“Send word to the ‘Shadowed One’, that we have found his prize,” hissed the one in the hood. They proceeded to wait for several more minutes, before going inside the portal.
Chapter 6[]
Skyzix and his company had left. Haglog took a deep sigh, and walked up several stairs hidden across the table behind a couple of redbanners. The stairs were old, created from Crimson stairs, creaking as he walked up. It led up high, around fifteen blocks. He then entered a small room, a door lay infront. He opens the Crimson Door, beautiful curves and shapes carved on it. He opened the door, and now had entered a large room. Pillars of blackstone held up the ceiling, which was made from Polished Blackstone Stairs. Across from the door was a large balcony, overlooking the village, barely seen by those below though.
A large figure stood on the balcony. Around half a block higher than a regular Piglin. It was outfitted in black clothing, and was leaning on a gold axe. It’s arms crossed. Haglog had walked up to the Brute.
“Hloe-Tehr Gigeleks Hoolti?(Transll. Did the guests leave?)” Asked the Brute asking in a booming and raspy voice, shaking the room.
“Pyl.(Transll. Yes.)”’
“Jodde, Werq-pip-liep Tuul Schtilg.(Good, now it is our turn.)”
Soon, large groups of Piglins had begun to gather, in fact those from other villages had arrived too. Equipped with crossbows, swords, bows, and axes. All were chanting, and the Nether wanderers from the mountains had begun to gather too, watching the commotion. A booming voice then came from the palace, shaking the walls and trees of the village.
“Gull-tehr Chokolls-ad Piguchil Stepto Quoill! Gull-Aglog! Gull-Aglog Chibs!”(Transll. “Kill the humans and decimate their homes! Kill them! Kill them all!”)
The Piglins all let out roars, before beginning to scale the mountain like spiders. The Nether Wanderes, knowing Piglish, were now scattering, trying to get their valuables, and their Striders. Though most were already overrun before they could even get on the lava. Those that did manage to escape from the land, were shot down, along wiht their Striders, meeting a pitiful end. The homes on the mountains were destroyed, looted, windows broken. Bodies laying on the floor lifelessly, as the Piglins scattered over them.
Slowly the Nether was slowly covered by a blanket of Piglins, moving from one place to the other, killing each and every player. Eventually reaching Nether Necessities, Charas’ shop. After looting it, they had finally captured the owner.
He was dragged outside, being held by both arms, and soon; he was finally face to face with the Piglin Brute. The large Piglin let out a mocking laugh, before crouching. Charas could smell his foul breath. It stenched like something had died in there.
“Fo, Ip-Corrf Kocholii-Pichil,(Transll. So, I heard that this,)” he points towards the shop. “Koho Pohh-Chibs-Tehr Huapp Zirippt-Tehr Chokoll Koho Dinehor. (Transll. Was what all the talk amongst the players was about.)”. He lets out a snort and hoarsely laughs.
“Ul-Stra Hoolgompolke. Ul-ad Chibs Uli Koloke! Ul Pilli Hollrh Guhi! (Transll. You are a monster. You and all your kind! You will never win!)” Shouted Charas, his face red, still being held by the soldiers.
The Brute snorts and lets out another chuckle before crouching. His face right infront of Charas, his blank look almost as if he wasn’t a breathing monster. His breath smelled of rotten flesh and spoiled meat, “ Stioekr-plo Jord, Sujuhf Piglish Yogre, (Transll. Look at him, a fluent Piglish speaker,)” He paused.
“Speh Degorm-Liep Havrveri-Ner-Tehr Putl. Ul Pilli Shpick(Transll. My friend’s already on the move. You will fail.)”.
He spits, and everyone goes silent. The Brute stands up, his golden axe glimmering like sunlight, still being held in his left hand. His face fades from a sneer, to and expressless stare. He then roars all of a sudden, releasing his rage, bringing down the golden axe. A large thud shakes the platform, Netherrack flying into the air. His soldiers shield their eyes from the flying debris. A large thud of flesh could be heard. The axe was then finally removed. The Brute turned around, facing his counterparts.
“Kopelep-Tehr Fielusch. Jod! (Transll. Continue the attack. Go!)” He roared. His soldiers scatter once again. A large blanket of flesh spreads, slowly. The Brute now had gone to the Fortress. The guards had been slain and the Wither was able to be activated once again. The Star had been inserted and the undead and supernatural of The Wither had risen; and after eighty long years; they could cause havoc.
The portals had been closed off. The Southern one shut instantly, though no one was there to see it. Then the Main Portal had been shut. Those in the town panicked as the large magnificent portal closed, it’s purple light disappeared. The obsidian had begun to rot. Liquid had begun to drip.
Those that went into the Nether would not be able to leave now, and were eventually massacred. And those on the other side; remained safe, for now.
...
Van had walked up to his home, seeing Skyzix nowhere in sight. The members of the party leaned against the birch white fences surrounding his house, and some sat on the bench. Van was relieved that no one had gone to his crops. Even though his crops were dead. Three months had passed, and winter was upon them. The rain and snow were soon to come. Harvesting had passed. Van was disappointed, realizing that months of nourishing, and nothing had come out.
In the back he could hear Merkin and Skyzix trotting up the small rocky path leading to his house on the hill. Skyzix had by now reached the fence, and everyone stood up.
“Very well,” he muttered. “Our task is complete, everyone will now head home.”
“Van,” he motioned to the horse stables. “Mind fetching two horses?”
Van did not hesitate yet began to worry if his horses would be returned.
“The Northeners will leave first,” He motioned to the two brothers and Koro.
By now Van was bringing the horses back by lead. All three were brown, and saddles were already mounted on them. Van handed them the leads, and they were off, riding off into the distance.
“Now the Westeners, Cheros, Lod, and Pot. You will leave soon,” he paused. “As for the Easteners… we have something we need to discuss.”
Skyzix had opened the door as Merkin and Dane had gone inside. But before Skyzix headed in, Van had stopped him before the door, reaching his palm out.
“The emeralds?”
Skyzix chuckles, “Right… Right…”
…
Koro led the front, being on the fastest horse, while the brothers were in the back, passing around apples and berries. Their horses trod through the woods, as the large Acacia trees slowly became the cool-green Spruce. As they got further into the North, a slight wind began to form. Then… It began to rain. Koro took no notice of this, as he always wore a hood, but Glade and Spade were both cold down to the core. As they continued going it became awfully quiet. Only the falling rain and the footsteps of the horses could be heard.
Suddenly a large twig cracked. Koro’s instincts kicked in, as he pulled out his bow, armed with an arrow, and pointed it towards his left side. It was a woman. Fairly the same age as Naher. She seemed homeless. Cold, shivering, bruises and scratches were all over her body.
“Lady you good?” Asked Glade, who was slightly concerned as to what a random person was doing in the middle of the woods, during heavy rain. Without answering she collapsed. Her hood came off, and everyone realized who this was.
“Oh god.”
She was carried onto a horse, and all three had once again returned to Van’s home. They knocked quite loudly. It seemed as if everyone was still there. Van and the Westeners were downstairs, discussing something, while Pot enjoyed a large pie. Merkin, Skyzix, and Dane were in Van’s office, discussing something. No one seemed to notice them, so Spade knocked again, kicking the door several times as well. The fancy Dark Oak Door was finally opened.
…
“I think I can handle it.”
“I think not, but I’ll leave it up to you to make your own cho-”
Skyzix did not have time to finish, as Van rushed in. He was panting, and had a concerned look on his face. “We- We have a problem.”
Skyzix rushed downstairs, nearly tripping while going down. Downstairs, everyone was gathered around something. Skyzix rushed in, pushing everyone apart. “Move, give her some space!”
In the middle laid Terah, her brother lifting her head very slightly. Staring at the floor grimly. She was hoisted on a small table, made from soft and comforting scaffold. Nareh looked up, in anger. “She’s dying. The Nether’s been raided. Your Piglish scum did it.”
Skyzix stroked his mustache, “Van… do you know what sweet berries are?”
“Yes.”
“Fetch some. As for you Nareh, let her rest. She needs it. Do not bother her right now. Everyone else… gather at the table, including you Nareh.”
By now Van had rushed back in with several sweet berries. He placed them in a bowl, and Skyzix had begun crushing them, forming some sort of juice, before giving it to Terah. The rest of the company was at the table. Sitting. Waiting. They all had looks of concernment, fear, and anger. Skyzix had finally sat down, as did Van.
“Nareh, explain what happened.”
Nareh spat, “Your Piglish scum looted the Nether. Everyone’s dead. The portals have closed.”
“So we can confirm, he is back?”
“Yes. You should’ve killed that pig when you had the chance Skyzix.”
“No need to take out your hatred right now Nareh. If he is back, war is coming. We must warn them,” He paused, yet again stroking his grey mustache. “Dane, Pot and Lod. You head to the East. Warn them. As for everyone else I need you here. If war is upon us, we must prepare.”
He stood up as Dane, Pot, and Lod exited Van’s home. You could hear the gallipoling of horses in the distance.Skyzix paced around the room for several minutes, before sitting back down.
“Yes, there is one place where Piglins can enter our world,” He paused again as the tension grew. “Red Dragon Hill. Van; do you know what I am speaking of?”
Van pondered for several seconds, “Red Dragon Hill, Red, Dragon, Hi- Of course! It’s not far from here. It’s where the great Red Dragons of the South resided, yes I know.”
“Good, they will enter from there soon. I cannot give you a precise time, but soon they will strike the South. We must prepare. Van and Nareh, make sure your,” He points towards Nareh. “Sister recovers, she will not be part of this battle though. Gather up the villagers in your town Van, and bring those willing to fight to Red Dragon Village. We will meet there.”
Everyone had begun to leave for Red Dragon Village, as Van and Nareh stayed behind. Little did they know, the South wasn’t the only kingdom ravaged by the enemies spiteful and burning power. The War had now begun.
Chapter 7[]
After most of the villagers who had volunteered agreed to participate in the battle and defend their homes, they began walking to Red Dragon Village. It wasn’t a long walk. Several hundred blocks Southeast of Van’s village.
Now Red Dragon Village was no village like any other found in the South. It was small, yet had more than one-hundred players residing in it. Their architecture was also different. Similar to the North. Having roof’s made of red blocks, and dark prismarine. Their roads were clean and made from fine, hand-cut polished basalt bought from the West. And in the middle of their village stood a large monument. A dragon. Large, slightly larger than the Dragons of the End; the horses of the Endermen. It was a Red Dragon. Made from andesite and stone, it loomed over most buildings, standing up and spewing fire. The village itself was located around fifty blocks from the hills of the Red Dragon. In the back of the village between two large hills, stood a large wooden wall; blocking a river from rushing in and destroying the village.
The hills themselves were quite small, yet there were so many of them that it seemed like large bumps in the ground. The surrounding area was mostly forests and large Oak trees. It was quite a sight.
By the time Van had arrived, most villagers were equipped with hoes, shovels, and anything they could lay their hands on and use as weapons. Some had crafted bows from thin branches and tight-string. For arrows they used stones as the tip. The children were hidden in the houses though, and most women stayed behind as well.
As Skyzix rode down and up from the hills on his horse, he came up to Glade who was leading several children to the safety of their homes.
“Glade!” He shouted. “You must head home! You and everyone else who is not from the south!”
Glade smacked his lips, “I’m afraid; Skyzix; that I’ve discussed this already with the other members. We’re staying. The South is the main source of food for all the other kingdoms. We cannot let our people starve.”
“Very well. I’ll leave it up to you.”
By now everyone had gathered on top of the highest hill. It was located in the center, and took a second to climb. Everyone was now at the top. Those with melee weapons stood at the front, most of them panting from fear. Gripping their weapons. In the back stood those that knew archery and had made themselves bows. At the front stood Nareh.
“When they come through!” He roared. “Fire at them! Give them all you got! Lets bash these pigs!”
He roared again pulling his sword out, his face in anger. And then… silence followed… they stood for several minutes.
Nothing.
Happened.
“Skyzix?”
“Yes Van?”
“Are you sure we’re in the right spot? This is taking up some time.”
“You cannot rush a battle. The Piglins will decide to attack when they decide. We may be standing here for hours, days… or minutes.”
As he finished that word. A block of obsidian appears around thirty or so blocks in front of Nareh. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another. And around a dozen more appear. And as time passes. An obsidian block is added to each portal. And as they are being constructed, everyone slowly begins to walk backwards, realizing how much they truly underestimated the Piglins.
“Hold you ground! Hold your ground!” Shouted Nareh holding his arm into the air, clenched in a fist.
The portals were finally complete. But they did not light up. Instead, they began to cry. The same purple liquid that Van had seen earlier when they were entering the West Portal. The obsidian was bleeding, and as it bled each portal was slowly lit up with the purple matter which plunged you into the depths of player’s worst nightmares. They gave off a small light. Then… silence followed, only the eerie sounds of the portals could be heard, and the dripping that came from the bleeding obsidian.
Suddenly a barrage of Piglins riding on Hoglins tore through the portals roaring and snoring. The archers in the back fired, managing to take out most of the riders sitting on top of the large Hogs. The Hoglins themselves though were unharmed, and tore through the large crowd of armed villagers. Players and villagers began flying into the air, dying. Some managed to survive the tear of the Hoglins, and had by now; begun bringing the Hoglins down. Most archers were killed as they had no melee weapons and were killed.
Nareh slaughtered the Hoglins and their riders, one by one, he sliced, and stabbed, and slit their sides and throats. He was in such anger and fury, no words could properly describe his emotions. And as the group of Hoglin riders were slowly wiped out and the villagers got back into position; a barrage of arrows suddenly came out of the portals. And a wave of Piglins, roaring, and groaning; swords, crossbows, and axes all equipped; they came flying out of the portals.
The surviving villagers from the first attack charged at the Piglins. Both sides roared as they clashed, and fought. This wasn’t the end though, following the Piglins came out a dozen Wither Skeletons. Being weak yet powerful enough to overtake a weak villager in a matter of seconds, it truly seemed like the Nether were the victorious one’s in this battle. What made the situation even worse, was a large Piglin Brute exiting the portal, with a crooked and old Haglog by his side.
And as Skyzix slew the Skeletons, a realization came over him. The Wither had been activated. Face red, wheezing and gasping, he shouted over to Cheros who was closest to him, crushing a Piglin with his club. “We need someone to head into the Nether! To deactivate the Wither!”
“Understood!” Shouted Cheros whacking and then proceeding to bash a Piglin to the head.
He then motioned to Koro, Glade, and Spade to come with him. They didn’t hesitate, and slowly proceeded to make their way through the horde of Piglins towards the portals. Meanwhile Van was trying not to get stabbed, bitten, and shot by the Piglins. He then saw Koro, and the three others, making their way to the portal, they were back to back with each other. Seeing in all directions. But he saw what they didn’t see. The Brute, making his way slowly to them. He ran towards them, shouting, trying to get his voice across the wave of screaming and roaring. But alas, he could not do it. So he did the next best thing; to fight off the Brut e himself. He started running across the hills, prancing around and dodging all the fighting surrounding him. He then snuck up behind the Brute, and right as he was about to swing his club at the four members of the group, Van had stabbed his left leg. The Brute roared, before looking back and pushing Van aside; into the portals. But when the Brute had looked back, all four were entering the portals as well. He roared once more, spit flying out of his mouth, as he reached his arm out, trying, hoping; to grab one of them, and end them. He now began to advance, one step at a time; towards the portals. Black blood trailed behind him as he took each step, his axe clenched in his hands.
Skyzix had seen what had happened, and knew he had to help. And before the large Piglin entered the portals, he leaped in front of him, holding his ground; sword raised. The Brute chuckles, before swinging his axe and throwing Skyzix to his right.
The Brute turns towards Haglog, who is currently, slowly, and enviously impaling a villager with his staff.
“Kego-Wie Jord.(Transll: Deal with him.)” He sneered, kicking Skyzix aside ever so slightly, before entering the portal and disappearing into the mist of purple.
Skyzix stood up, groaning, cluthicng his stomach with one hand; and in the other, his sword. Haglog growls, removing his staff from the now limp and dead villager. He approaches Skyzix, keeping two or so metres away from him, as Skyzix is now on his feet.
And as they circled, Skyzix managed to ask, “How could you do this? How could you betray your friend, our trust?!”
“Hah, you pafetic fool. You never wondered wot the meaning, ‘never trust a Piglin’ mint? You are noting but an old fool,” Haglog boasted.
Then in a moment of rage Haglog burst at Skyzix, beating him down with his staff, before stabbing the ground as Skyzix rolled away, and once again got up on his feet. Haglog, enraged by this, charged at Skyzix, only for him to move away. He then felt a certain pain. It was stinging and burning his entire body. His staff fell to the floor, as he now had trouble breathing, he looked down. Skyzix had impaled him. His black lifeless eyes seemed even more lifeless as he fell to the floor, now dead.
…
Van felt that feeling again; the feeling of misery, as the heat became more intensive as he fell to his knees, while flying through the purple mist of nothingness. He clutched his head, as the pressure became more intense.
Then… the pressure vanished, though the heat remained. He was once again in the Nether, beside him lay, groaning Cheros, as Koro, Glade, and Spade were getting up slowly but surely. He managed to open his eyes, and his breath stifled as a realization came over him. This wasn’t the same Nether he was in several days earlier.
They were located on a large netherrack platform, a bridge made from the Nether Bricks of the deep connected to the platform, stretching all the way into the mountain, several dozen blocks away from them. The Nether Fortress. One one side of the bridge was a large mountain, Piglins were mounted on it, chanting, slowly marching towards a separate set of portals. One the other side stood a Crimson Forest. Unlike the previous one’s Van had traveled in, this one was dead, darker, gloomier. The Shroomlights were drooping, and falling out of their bunch, cracking; losing their light.
There were unfamiliar monsters as well, large white creatures were flying around. Whimpering and screeching. Tears rolling down their eyes, and long grey strands of hair tapping on the side of their heads, and long white tentacles hanging off their bottom. While on the bridge, stood and floated Blazes and Wither Skeletons.
The fire was what most Nether dwellers called Blazes, made from flame and fire they were. And stories were told, that their heat was so intense, that you would begin melting before they even attacked you with their barrage of fireballs. And the Wither Skeletons were a different matter, they were Fallen Dwellers who worshiped Herobrine during his reign; those who created the Wither, the Nether Star, the power of these Hellish monsters. When they were defeated, they became one with the Wither, trapped in the Nether for eternity.
By now everyone was on their feet, as a Ghast had noticed them. They began running as a fireball hit the very end of the bridge, causing a small gap between the bridge and the netherrack platform. The Piglins had also noticed them and those with bows had begun firing at them. Meanwhile, Spade and Glade were in the front as always, knocking the Skeletons off the bridge and into the lava, though they crippled long before reaching the scorching lava below. And though they had managed to hold off from the Wither Skeletons and the Piglin Archers, the Ghast was still hot on their tail. And as it fired and missed every time, they were approaching the inside of the fortress every block they took.
This was becoming excessive and irritating, and something had to be done. Koro, while having a bow, was too busy fending off them from the Piglins, who surprisingly were not giving up, and were chasing them on the other side of the lava. So when the Ghast had come close enough, Spade turned left from the group, hopping over the side of the Bridge, and leapt onto the side of the Ghast. Stabbing the Ghast quite deeply and hanging onto the sword, before it began to go down the side of the Ghast, eventually lodging itself inside the Ghast. The Ghast, about to shriek again and fire a fireball, moaned. It’s eyes rolled up, as cyan blood dripped from the side of it’s head onto Spade and into the lava. It begins falling towards the Crimson Forest.
Meanwhile the other four players stopped, fighting off the hordes of Skeletons, and the barrage of arrows. While the sword, lodged deep inside the Ghasts head, had lost it’s grip. Spade grabbed onto one of the Ghast’s long, silver, hair, above the fuming lava. In the meantime, the Ghast had plummeted into the blood-red trees, and Spade disappeared out of sight, as several trees fell over. A large thump could be heard.
…
As Merkin tore through the hordes of Piglins, rushing through roaring. The hill’s now on fire. But what had caught Merkin’s attention was fume’s, and thick smoke coming from the village. The church now on fire, and the top slowly crumbling from the fire, coming from the underneath. Several portals lay in the center of the village, with Piglins slowly rushing out of them; weapons high, crossbows loaded. He begins sprinting downhill, past the villagers and the Piglins, swords and weapons rubbing against each other, creating sparks. He storms into the village, the center burned, the statue of the dragon burning, it’s head on the floor, shattered into a million pieces.
He then slowly turned his head, as a sound of whimpering and growling came. A Piglin, sword held high, drool ploping on the ground. The unarmed villager lay on the floor, leaning against the back of a house. The Piglin then stops, his sword drops to the ground, clattering. It looks down; the end of a sword is sticking out from it’s chest, it then is taken out from the back. The Piglin lets out a groan, and a final breath before plopping to the ground; dead.
The villager lets out a relieved sigh, before getting up with the help of Merkin. The villager thanked Merkin. The villager then became pale, as white as a ghost. He sputtered, before screaming and running off to find shelter. Something had scared the villager off. And then Merkin heard it. A roar, and a clatter of stone; something being ripped up from the ground. He turned his head ever so slightly, before jumping off to the side, as a huge log crashes into the house, creating a hole in it. He gets up, clutching his sword, as a large, sparkling, emerald brute tears his way through a crippled building. It looked very much like Steve, yet it wasn’t him.
It roared, “Merkin! At last we have found you! At last we will end what your line has started!” The Emerald Man then began to charge at Merkin, using it’s arms as front legs, similar to Gorillas. Merkin leapt off as it punched the ground, where he once stood; creating a large ditch in it, several blocks deep. It roared once again, before grabbing the log and tearing it out from inside the house, causing the back to collapse. Now when a usual player would show signs of fear, Merkin did not. He stood his ground, sword held high. They paced in circles several times, before the Emerald Man swung the log, causing Merkin to tumble, and nearly lose his balance. Merkin was about to defend himself again, when he was caught off guard. The log came from the side causing him to fly several metres into the air, and crash through the roof of a building, his sword clattering onto the edges off the roof, and into the underbush below.
He groans, trying to get up from the rubble and out of the house; suddenly a huge hand tears through the side of the building, grabbing him and tearing him out of the house. He lets out another groan as he is tossed over the large brute character, landing on a tough rock. He lets out another groan, before lifting his head just ever so slightly to see his sword lay, it’s handle sticking out of the bush. But standing between him and the sword was the Emerald Man. It grabbed Merkin by the foot, slamming him against the ground, opposite of the boulder he was just sprawled over on. This though, gave him the upper advantage. Even though he was badly injured the sword wasn’t out of reach and he managed to grab hold of it. And as he came back around for another toss, he swung his sword out, causing the Emerald Man’s right arm to shatter in a million pieces. Merkin fell to the ground, exclaiming joy and relief. The Emeralg Man clutched it’s stub of a right arm, moaning. Though it could feel nothing.
It had no neutral system. It was all emerald.
...
Silence ensues, especially Glade and Van. The thought of his brother, gone… was something that he could never imagine. He had lived with him, and he had helped him become the warrior Spade was… his entire life. But there was still hope. And an arm reached from behind the Ghast. Slowly but surely a figure rose, Spade. Injured, but alive. His brother let out a worried laughter.
“Follow me!” He shouted, continuing to laugh. The other three slowly follow him, with Koro using up his arrows, trying to take out the Piglins perched on the ridges on top of the mountain.
They began to head further into the Nether, eventually finding a crossing in the Bridge. They turned left, not stopping, thinking, hoping that the bridge would lead them to the Crimson Forest. But their happiness, and joy did not last for long. As when Spade began to head towards the bridge, leaning on his sword; which was just barely shattered at the very tip of the blade, the shards were nowhere to be found… Possibly deep inside the now rotting corpse of the Ghast. All of a sudden a large golden axe hits him in the side, causing him to fly, ragdoll. He hits a tree, causing a small dent in it, before landing on the ground, his blade landing several blocks beside him. The Piglin Brute roars, running out of the brush, revealing himself. The four other players start speeding up, realizing the danger that Spade is in.
Meanwhile Spade drags his body, clenching his hand around his sword, and bringing it above him to cover the blows of the Brute. Though it was not enough, the blade shatters before a large ax is brought down where Spade once laid. He rolled to his side, just missing the blow. The Brute roars again, now slamming Spade against his leg, sending him flying into the air and hitting yet another tree.
Spade groans, reaching his hand out; leaning against the tree; trying to get his balance back. The Brute laughs, clenching Spade by the throat with his free hand, raising him high in the air and carrying him over to a ledge overlooking the rest of the forest.
“Ul-Stillut Chokoll,(Transll: You pathetic Player,)” his grip tightens. “Kooolk.(Transll: Diiieee.)”
Spade hovers over the ledge, with the Brute laughing. He then uses the Piglins arrogance to kick him in the stomach. The Brute roars, clenching it, before swiping his ax at Spade; who had begun to fall down. He lands in the brush with an off, getting up as quick as he had fallen, as the Piglin Brute jumps down, slamming his ax into the ground creating a large dent in it. It lifts his head up ever so slightly, growling in anger at the now fleeing Spade. The Brute then leaps, lifting his ax high into the air, and bringing it down on his opponent.
By now the other four players had reached the small clearing(caused by the destruction of the Brute) in the forest. But they did not stop, as screaming could be heard from up ahead. Spade was on the floor. Body mangled, one hand outstretched grasping onto the blood red Nylium. Trying to get away from the large monster. But he fails. The Brute crouches, laughing and boasting. He grabs Spade's head and lifts it; before slamming it onto the rocky surface.
It had won, Spade was dead. His body mangled, head bashed, bones broken. The fight had been won, but the battle had not been ended. A vicious and red-eyed Glade jumped from the top, landing on the back of the Brute, stabbing it several times in the neck. It roars, grabbing Glade and tossing him over his side, before shielding itself from the ranged attacks coming from above from Koro. Meanwhile Cheros had found a way down, and had snuck up on the enraged Piglin. He then struck, bashing at the Brute’s leg with his club. The Brute roars, before getting a beating to the chin from the club. It stumbles moaning and groaning, trying to take back it’s balance, eventually leaning against a tree. Only to feel sharp pain in it’s lower stomach. The Brute opens its eyes only to find that a sword had been stabbed through it by Glade. It groans, as the sword is plummeted deeper into it. Its legs weaken, as it starts dropping, but the strength of the sword is only becoming stronger and stronger.
“Die.”
The Brute chuckles, before coughing up black blood, “Ul-Zschulk,” laughing once again. “Tehr-Foir o-”
But the blade had stopped him from finishing the sentence, as it was dug deeper. All of that hate had to come to an end, as a large Magma Cube snuck up in front of them. Though Glade had noticed the beast at the very last second, managing to jump away at the very last second as the Magma Cube consumed the Piglin general along with Glade’s blade. A sizzling sound of flesh could be heard, as the Brute’s entire body got incinerated.
The enemy was gone. The Piglins general was dead, but the threat of the Wither had not ended yet. They had no time to mourn the loss of Spade, that would be a matter for another time. With the help of Van, who was still on the top of the cliff, they got back up. And thus, in no time, they were back on the bridge, running past the fireballs and arrows; and slowly… into the depths and darkness of the Nether Fortress.
...
It’s limb was dismembered… but it didn’t stop the rage. In fact, even more rage was fueled. Merkin began running, but he wasn’t fast enough. He was grabbed by the beast and pummeled into the thick dirt. His head was lodged in there, and the Emerald Man wouldn’t take it out anytime soon. Merkin was suffocating, as every second passed, he was closer to death. His sword lay several blocks in front, out of his reach. It seemed as if the Emerald Man would end up victorious.
The village was nearly gone by now. Most of the buildings have been burned to a crisp, or have been crumbled. The dragon statue was toppled over and laid in thousands of pieces. A lot of the villagers taking shelter in the homes were now dead. The only thing that stood in one piece, was the rickety, wooden, dam; blocking liters and liters of water. Which, if demolished, would release a rage and fury of water onto the remains of the village.
But alas, Merkin was saved, and at the very last second too; as another sword slashed the Emerald Man by the head, leaving a crevice in the side of it’s head. The Emerald Man stumbles back, grabbing its head with its last remaining arm.
And as Merkin stared, a figure leaped in front of him, reaching its hand out.
…
The Nether was dark, deadly, and would strike fear into any soul new to it. The fortress was much more than that. Constructed during the reign of Herobrine, it served a single purpose. To protect the Wither, the heart of the Nether monsters. It stands high, 40-50 blocks off the surface of the lava, and most of it being concealed in the Nether mountains. The Wither itself, lay deep within it, several layers beneath doors.
This is the same fortress our heroes are currently sprinting through, trying to evade the barrage of arrows from the Piglins who have managed to make their way onto the bridge. Most of them were still shocked by the death of Spade, but knowing they had no time to mourn for their loss, they continued running. They then came across an intersection. Three different hallways lay infront of them. With the Piglins slowly catching up they had to choose one. And eventually they did; leading to a large rounded door, made from the blackest and purest of blackstone. Blending in with the Nether Bricks surrounding it. Near the door, stood two large statues. Frozen in time; it seemed as if they were made from stone, which they were. Cracks had formed in them overtime from the heat that the Nether produced, giving them a rough feel and look. Both held swords, the blades pointing towards their feet. The sculptures had been sculpted with no face, and a large hood and robe covering everything, with just a bit of chainmail armor poking out from underneath.
But Cheros and Koro had no time to ponder and see the exquisite detail of the statues, and already had begun to pry the large door open, as a glow and the shrieks of the Piglins were coming closer and closer towards the intersection. The pushed and pushed, and it proved to be quite easy to open, as it slid towards the wall, leaning just slightly over to knock over the sculpture on the left, causing it to collapse and shatter into a thousand pieces. By now the Piglins had turned the corner, and were firing arrows and shouting all sorts of slurs in Piglish at our heroes. The four players rushed through the door as Koro and Cheros were now closing the large boulder. They had trouble though, as the door seemed to not budge, that was; of course; before Van had noticed a small little black button hidden on the wall, blending in with the surroundings. He of course clicked it without a second though. The boulder then began to shake, and slowly closed, entrapping our heroes inside, as the Piglins roared and scraped on the other side.
The four turned around to face a large hallway, made from Polished blackstone, and the floors; from the blood-red stripped Crimson wood. Ten pedestals outlined the room, with five being on each side. All ten supported the same sculptures that Van had seen outside previously. All having cracks, all being stone-frozen, and all having a large hood, no face, and a large unidentified sword. On the other end of the hallway stood another large circular door, except this one had a carving, spreading from one end to the other. It was a carving of the Wither. The room was lit by four large blue torches, giving off just the slightest light, enough for players to see.
Koro and Cheros had already begun trying to open the door, with Glade sitting on the floor, right next to them, leaning against the wall; completely fazed and no emotions could be seen from him. Meanwhile Van was pacing back and forth, occasionally looking towards the boulder separating them from the Piglins, which were currently clanking away and roaring at the large stone door.
At that moment a short and quiet snap could be heard… and as it echoed throughout the room, only Van seemed to notice. He stopped, turning his head ever so slightly, to inspect where that sound came from. He walked over to a stone sculpture, frozen, as if time had stopped. He inspected it, watching it ever so carefully. But he gets sidetracked, as the dust, coming off the statue lands on his feet. He crouches; touching it. But no one notices as the statue lowers its head ever so slightly, and raises its sword high.
Then it strikes, impaling Van through the shoulder. He lets out the most blood-curdling screech. By now the other nine have walked off their podium, their swords right by their side. Glade had leapt off the floor by now, sword unsheathed. Koro has also stopped working on the door, ordering Cheros to continue. Van began crawling from the statue, as it stepped off it’s podium and by now had begun approaching him. Only to be impaled through the back of it’s head with Glade’s sword. It then collapses, breaking apart into hundreds of hard stone pieces.
But by now two more had snuck up on Glade and begun to weaken him, but he prevailed, blocking each attempt. On the other side of the room, Koro was wasting each of his arrows. Shot after shot, nothing had happened; it seemed as if his arrows were too weak to penetrate the stone of the sculptures; the Guards of the Wither. By now four were approaching him and Cheros, who was currently opening the door as fast as he could. He stood up, and faced Koro.
“Get the door, hurry! I’ll handle these monsters.”
Koro gave up his position with Cheros filling in. But his senses and strength weren’t strong enough to stop the attack. His arm was instantly cut, and he let out a scream; dropping his club had begun to fall. He tried picking it up before it even touched the floor, but he was pushed towards the wall, with one of the guards foot. They raised their swords over him, high, and menacingly. But before they could end him, one of them was impaled through the torso. Van had managed to find his strength, and had used his blade to impale one of the guards. It crumbled to the floor. Another one was then taken out by Koro, who had managed to unlock the door, and was now defending his friends; smashing one’s head with Cheros club, and like the other two who fell to our heroes previously; it too crumbled. In the back, two more had fallen to the strength and rage of Glade. The two who had tried to end Cheros, were now dodging attacks from Van and Koro, straying their attention from Cheros, who had gotten the upper hand, and with his leg he pushed one into the other, causing both of them to crumble.
The remaining three, had begun to charge at them. Van dodged out of the way, his strength now weakened. Giving Koro the chance to swing Cheros’ club at one of the guards, crumbling its head along with the rest of its body. The other two had cornered Glade, who was blocking their strikes, but was becoming weaker by the minute. In fact, one of them managed to stab him in the leg. But it seemed to do nothing, as he took out another guard, impaling it through the torso. But he had met a setback, as the sword had seemed to get stuck inside the still moving statue. The last one, has struck at Glade, who dodged it, managing to get his sword out of the torso, causing the statue to crumble. The very last guard had begun approaching Glade, who was currently on the floor, trying to get up. But its efforts failed as its torso was shattered into pieces by Koro. And with the final sculpture crumbling, the guards had been defeated. They all had finally managed to catch a breath; forgetting all about the Piglins who were still trying to make their way in. The Wither was their main objective now…
Chapter 8[]
The Wither. Standing four blocks tall and three blocks wide. Its three heads, lifeless as ever, loomed over the four. Its skin was rough, and when Koro reached out his hand and touched it; he felt only the softness of soulsand.
He spat, “It’s made out of soulsand. What a vile thing.”
And in the middle, where the heart should be, lay the Nether Star. Now illuminating the two rooms, its soft glow was so mesmerizing that Van stood there for minutes, staring at it. Just staring, while everyone was trying to pry it out of the Wither’s body, and it wasn’t a difficult task. And as soon as the Star contacted Glade's flesh, Van was out of the trance. He fell limply to the floor. The others stared, not knowing what was happening to Van.
Meanwhile Van was now in an endless void. Nothing existed here but him; the darkness consumed him . A soft glow then appeared as well as a hill, blocking it. Van ran to it, and up the hill to see what the light was, and what he saw made him scream. His shrieking was so powerful, that he had woken up from that terrible nightmare… Shivering even though it was steaming hot, and clawing at his face. Eventually he had come back as his old self, and stood up from the floor.
Everyone was staring at him, and only after a bit did Cheros ask, “What happened?”
“I didn’t feel well, and had a bad nightmare after I fainted.”
He decided to keep everything he just saw to himself. And face the problem at hand. Not only was the Wither still activated, but the door blocking them from the wrath of the Piglins. And with every blast they heard, the room shook more; and more; and more. Until you could see cracks starting to appear in the now thin layer of rock. Holes had now begun to appear, and through these holes you could see a minimum of at least twenty Piglins working away.
Koro dodged an arrow as a Piglin shot one through one of the miniscule holes. Commotion started within the Piglins as they realized they have almost reached their goal. But then it all went silent…
…
Skyzix trudged past all the broken trees, and the crumpled lush-red plants that surrounded him. He walked downhill, carefully, not daring to slip and tubmle down below. He came upon a large corpulent and large Magma Cube. It’s flesh was so transparent that you could see the still decomposing bones of a Brute. But Skyzix didn’t mind the overweight creature nor did he come for it. He came for something else; he trodden past Spades mangled body, and walked over to something shiny and large. He lifted it up with a heave, and took a peek at it. It was large, and well crafted. With a golden axe head, shining under the light of the Glowshroom. The handle had imprints and carvings on it; depicting something Skyzix dare not remember. He stood up, sliding the weapon inside his robe. Walking away with the very weapon Spade was murdered with.
He was now entering the fortress, slowly but surely he made his way through the infinite rooms and tunnels of the cursed structure; slaying any foe he identified. And as he walked past, the bricks underneath him let out a quiet crack, as the age has made them worn out and old.
He had now reached it. Hearing explosions and the banging of picks against the stone made him slide back to the hallway from whence he came from. He dare not be seen by the Piglins. At least not yet. Then when all went silent. He slid out, caressing his sword against the walls of the fortress; causing sparks and an irritating sound to happen. And when he had the attention of the monsters; he charged.
Swinging his sword left and right, Skyzix sliced through many of the Piglins necks and bellies. It took a while for most of them to realize what was happening up front. But before the majority could fire their arrows at Skyzix and possibly injure or even kill him; the large boulder slid away from it’s position with a large thud, shaking the hallway; and before the Piglins in the back could even show the slightest reaction to this, their heads had been diattached off their necks as the four rushed out of the room slashing at the Piglins.
The panic had now settled; and with panic came chaos. The Piglins, panicking, tried escaping the swords and weaponry of the players. But alas, all of them fell. Eventually all that was left of the Piglins were their dead rotting corpses.
...
Skyzix walked past the corpses of the Piglins, past Van; who was delighted to see him, but it seems that Skyzix’ mind was not on a reunion. He strolled past Koro and Glade; and even though he felt sorrow for Glade, he did not mutter a word to him. Instead he walked up to Cheros, and without hesitation swung his sword at the Star in his hands, causing not only the player to jump back in fear. But for the other three behind him to tense up.
But before Van could even shout, ‘No!’ Skyzix had already unsheathed the Brute’s axe; and then he had struck the Star. A blinding light then beamed throughout the entire Nether.
Everyone was dumbstruck.
Koro muttered, “Why?”
And before he could finish, Skyzix stated, “To kill a Wither one must break it’s star; and the Star itself can only be shattered with an axe made from pure evil. A Brute’s axe. Now; we run.”
He stared at the Wither, collapsing, crumbling into a million grains of soul sand; and as soon as the Wither was truly gone, the shaking had begun. The fortress shook, no; it crumbled.
“Run. Run!” Skyzix shouted, beginning to turn towards the hallway and sprint.
The others followed without hesitation; and as soon as Van, who was last, had run out of the room; it crumbled, giving way for the mountain to consume it. As the group ran into the intersection and towards the hallway leading out of the fortress. Van stopped, looking into the other three hallways. But only for a split second as his adrenaline kicked in as he saw all of them collapse, giving way to hundreds of blocks of netherrack.
They were all now on the bridge as behind them the mountain collapsed onto the dozens of rooms and hallways found within the fortress. And all of that pressure was now ontop of the bridge; and thus; it had begun crumbling too. In fact; the destruction of the Wither had caused its own creatures to experience such chaos and destruction .
The Piglins were panicking as everything around them was falling, crumbling. Occasionally a large chunk of netherrack from the ceiling would fall on some and crush them. The Blazes and Magma Cubes faded into magma and fire, almost as if they melted away from the intense heat. The Wither Skeletons fell apart, turning into soul sand and disappearing, flying off through the hot winds of the Nether. As for the Ghasts, well… they imploded, their flesh drifting off into lava or onto the thick leaves of the trees.
The bridge now felt the impact of the destruction of the fortress, as it as well; had begun to collapse. The brown and coarse Nether bricks had begun to fall into the flaming ocean of fire below. And the crumbling of the bridge was now catching up to Van; who was in the back of the group. Meanwhile Skyzix had crossed the bridge and had made the jump over the crevice(leading to certain doom), and was now on the platform; which hosted the masses of portals used to infiltrate the hills.
By now Cheros has also caught up, and had crossed the gap; Koro was not far behind. Meanwhile Van was slowing down, as he was not used to this running, and his breath was running out; but he couldn’t stop as the crumbling was catching up. By now everyone was on the platform, onlooking the horror Van was experiencing. The tip of the bridge was at the very heels of Van. But he continued sprinting, giving in all his power to continue running. And he made it, as soon as he jumped, the bridge was no more. The legend of the Fortress now lay desolate, destroyed, and melted.
…
Terah grabbed hold of Merkin and pulled him to his feet, handing his damaged sword to him. Cracks had begun to appear in it from the battle; he didn’t know if it would pull through. The Emerald Man was now enraged. All he saw was red. He charged at them, head first, managing to grab Terah and fling her into the air behind him. He looked up, his solid green eyes were fixated on Merkin. And even though Merkin had tried to swing his sword and deal damage to the green beast, he was kicked in the stomach. He stumbled backwards, dropping his sword to the ground. He then was pounded once again in the stomach, he sputtered, falling to his knees. He lifted his head just a bit higher, looking, watching, his enemy make the killing move.
Right as it was about to end Merkin, it felt a large crunch at it’s neck. He reached over with his one arm to touch it, he could feel something cold and sharp. It was a sword, that sword was connected to a hilt, and the hilt was connected to an arm, Nareh’s arm. He swong his sword again, creating another crack in the emerald. It moaned, before roaring and scampering off. Nareh watched it run off into the thick woods that surrounded the village.
Tareh managed to get up herself, while her brother helped Merkin.
“He’s injured. He needs help, and quickly.”
“What sort of medicine?”
“I’m not sur-” They were interrupted with a loud and deafening thud; the portals; they were collapsing.
A shriek followed, the Piglins. Eyes shut and ears covered, with their large hands. Many of them sprinted blindly towards the portals, not caring about the victory they could’ve had with this battle. Climbing and trampling each other as they tried to enter the crumbling portals, not knowing what awaited them on the other side. And as the mound of Piglins got smaller and smaller, the surviving archers began to shoot some of them, as they tried to enter the portals, trying to make sure that this would never happen again. After the Piglins had cleared, five figures emerged from underneath, torn and battered.
The Battle of the Red Dragon is over, but the war had only begun.
Chapter 9[]
Merkin, heaved himself off the ground with a heavy groan, shoving away the dumbfounded Nareh and Tareh as they stared at the five survivors that had come from within the Nether, “I’m fine”, he moaned, limping towards his damaged weapon.
While everyone were tending to Merkin and mourning for the loss of Glade, Van had taken a look around the battlefield. Dead bodies of players and piglins covered the hills and roads, now rotting. Their weapons usually near them. The buildings were burning, and most had holes and were severely damaged. The statue of the red dragon, crumbled; the 240 year old statue build by the old ones was gone. And as Van stood there, looking at the village, once vibrant, now the face of death; someone came up to him; joining him.
“It is a large shame, what this village has gone through,” Skyzix uttered. “From the famine happening 100 years ago to its end.” He patted him on the shoulder, before leaving.
As he traveled back uphill towards the group, he could hear Van running into the woods; and without stopping him Skyzix let out a long sigh. He then stopped, and looked puzzled at the ground. Something shone into his eye, yet he couldn’t see it. He slowly walked towards the spot, before stepping on something hard and sharp. Letting out a short yelp, Skyzix bent over picking up a couple of Emerald shards. They gleamed, and felt smoother than emeralds that would be found deep in the mines. It smelled of flesh as well, as if it was rotting. Rotting flesh.
Van sprinted to his house, anguished and angry. He tumbles out of the woods, tripping over a lareg root sticking out of the ground. And while laying, he takes a glance of what remains of his home. Nothing. It was all rummaged and destroyed, with his farms trampled, and his stables shattered. He groaned, before starting to sob. Uncontrollably, and he sobbed and sobbed. Till it became dark.
…
Van awoke as the rectangular sun shimmered and shone down its rays on him, and the grass around him. He sniffled, heaving himself off the ground. The fire had now settled, and the burnt wood had turned to ash. He stared at his burnt house blankly, before swiveling around to stare back at the woods he had emerged from the previous evening. He was immensely surprised that his friends hadn’t come looking for him yet. Therefore, he decided to look for them.
He trodded back through the woods for a couple hundred blocks, taking him approximately five to eight minutes. He tore through the thick undergrowth, which returned him back to the remains of the village.
Everyone sat on stones, surrounding a custom built campfires. Some were smoking, some were staring into it. No one but Nareh paid attention to Van.
“There you are!” he exclaimed, getting up from his current position.
He embraced Van in a hug, patting him on the back. “How are you?”
Van didn’t respond, he had other thoughts on his mind, “I’m good… Where is Skyzix and Merkin.”
Nareh paused, staring blankly past Van, still gripping him by the shoulders. “Right.”
Everyone was gathered into a small group, as Nareh began explaining what was to happen now…
…
Merkin and Skyzix rode to the East. Both on horseback that they had found the night before at a nearby remaining stable. They were good horses too, not the one’s that would go at a slow pace, taking forever to get across the rough terrain. Though the terrain had changed a lot in the past days. The villages that were full of life and farmers, were now desolated. Buildings crumbled, bodies sprawled across roads. A lot of the farmland has been trampled, burned. Thick smoke filled the skies. The sun could barely be seen, as black smoke covered the land. Ash. The forests were burning too. Fallen trees, ash, and a couple of burnt trees was all that had remained from the once lush, dark green spruce forests of the Upper-South. The people there, that were foul, were now scared. Fear filled their hearts. They no longer spat, but whimpered and sobbed. It seemed as if the weather was a person as well; where there would be rain and thunder here, was now silence, and strong wind.
But as they went further North, the smog faded, the burnt villages were no longer seen. Everything was back to normal, as if nothing had happened.
They were approaching Syzeria, the white beam could be seen, shining down on the land surrounding it. They could see the gate opening, the drawbridge slowly lowering and the rusted gate behind it rising. They gallopped on in, the usual chatter between villagers could not be heard anymore, and only the galloping of the horses, wind, and the leaves flowing could be heard. They departed their horses, tying them up near the water elevator up to the throne room. Skyzix could hear Merkin take a large breath before entering the water elevator, then he disappeared from sight.
…
Ventur sat in his throne, blank-eyed, staring at the wood that made up his table. His feet hoisted up on it.
‘How nice of a tree it was, never harming anyone, yet we harm them. Make them into fine products like these. And what good they are; oh what good. What good weapons this tree would make as well. What good weapons to clobber these monstrous creatures roaming our lands, oh what good weap-’
His thoughts were interrupted as a wet Skyzix and Merkin entered the chamber, the heavy Spruce doors shuddering behind them. The king lowered his foot to the floor, staring at them as they quietly walked to some seats, with Skyzix placing a couple of Emerald shards on the table.
“Ventur. Hi,” muttered Skyzix, taking a seat right next to the king, Merkin sitting across from him.
“Hello. I had heard what happened to the South. What a shame.”
“Indeed,” Skyzix agreed, sighing. “Indeed.”
“What happened to the rest of your company?” Ventur questioned, tilting his head to one side.
“We have had a few losses, but; the rest have remained in the South and will be here shortly. The reason we’re here is to discuss something privately with you, something that I find very concerning,” Skyzix uttered.
Ventur sat up and caressed his chin; intrigued.
And with silence filling the room, Merkin began. “At the end of the battle I was attacked by an emerald man,” Ventur raised one eyebrow, still caressing his chin. “He was quite strng, ‘bout the size of an iron golem, not any larger nor smaller. I had injured him; yet it seemed to do no affect on him. I was almost defeated; but alas I was saved by Nareh and his sister.”
The king stared at the doors; now rubbing his temples. Silence once again ampled the room. Then, he finally spoke, “And you’re sure of this… character being all emerald. Perhaps it could be armor? After all the West has recently started to produce weaponry and armors made from the fine mineral.”
“Well…” Merkin paused. SIlence once again filling the room for the third time.
“If you excuse me Merkin,” Skyzix spoke up. “No player is able to achieve the size of an iron golem. Let us also not forget that the armor and weaponry produced by the West are in their early stages and extremely unreliable.”
Ventur slightly nodded. “We all know who this was,” Skyzix declared. “If they are once again hunting you and your men; it is a concern to us all.”
The king sighed, “Green Steve… was defeated, a long, long time ago Skyzix. It can’t be him.”
“Oh really?” expressed Skyzix. “And what do we know about this person who supposedly defeated Green Steve?”
“W- We don’t…”
“The group has revealed themselves to us, yet we have not seen the other two. Keep an eye out; both of you. Especially for their leader, it is not a shock after all that they call themselves the Hunters of Gradhug. If they catch one of us alone even once, it will be the end of us,” Skyzix spat. “I’m afraid we have to end this conversation here for now though. Our party has finally arrived.”
Chapter 10[]
Lanos was a small fishing village, located on the South side of Parshen Gulf, about 20 kilometres to the East of Syzeria. One of the very first fishing villages, it was well known for having one of the finest ports throughout the world. Of course recently, since the Plantation Explosion, fish have become less of a food source, and more of an enjoyment. The village was littered with docks, and the entire beach covered with old cobblestone pavement and rotten wood. About a dozen fishermen were littered throughout the docks, fishing, as the waves rolled up; thumping the old logs that were the support of the docks. Behind the beach were a line of houses, ranging from stores that sold the finest fishing rods, to fish stores, selling fish from all ranges of the world. They were all mostly made from wood and andesite, mined out from the West and transported to the East.
Behind the store front were several small hills littered with houses for the people of Lanos. By now, about all but two individuals have left for dinner. These two individuals were called Jens and Reyes. Both were in their mid-50’s and had hit a goldmine. Catching about 7 fish in one day. But alas their fishing rods wouldn’t last forever, and Jens fishing rod had broken. He heaved himself off the dock, sighing at his splintered rod.
“Well… looks like Imma have to go get anotha’ rod,” murmured Jens. Turning around and starting to head towards the dash of shops.
“Okaee, just make sure to get back quickly, ‘tis gonna be dark soon; and we still got many a fish to catch!”
And with those words, Jens continued walking towards the storefronts grudgingly. Meanwhile Reyes continued fishing, humming a soft tune to keep himself entertained while Jens was gone. Suddenly his rod stiffened, he yelped, leaping to his feet and hoistening his grip on the fishing rod. He had caught something big, something mounstrously large. He couldn’t see what it was, but it was definitely not something he knew of. He groaned, pulling as hard as he could yet it wouldn’t budge. Then; his rod snapped. He fell to the ground, with half of his rod still in his hands, the other half; gone. He sighed, being mildly disappointed at not only losing this monstrous opportunity but also having his rod snap. He groaned in anger, then he was blindened.
He shrieked, falling to the ground; his eyes burning and his vision gone. A beam of light had gone up to him. That he knew, but he had other questions, such as what he was being attacked by. He heard Jens scream and wail, but he couldn’t comprehend it. Then he felt the floor underneath him give way, and he felt the cool water splash against him. That would be the last thing he would feel, before a large spike impaled him, and then retracted back from where it came from.
Jens began running, as the massive fish now turned his attention to him, but alas, he was blinded just like his partner was. But he would not feel the sharp pain and sudden death that his partner had. No. He heard watery gargles, and knew that he was going to be murdered by something far worse. The dead men of the sea surrounded him gargling, as rain began to pour. He could smell their stench for just a second, before he was consumed. By now the village was under attack as the glass at the store fronts exploded from the beams and people were blinded and burned. Several guards had come out from within, prepared to defend their lands to the death. Though as agonizingly as it would be, they would not be able to hold back the horde, even with full iron armor and halberds made from the strongest steel. They were all quickly injured by a trident which flew from within the horde, breaking their armor and giving way for the horde to overtake them.
And as the horde advanced, with the rain protecting them, it cleared up the beach. The very last thing to rise from the water was a large drowned. Its body was covered with drooping seaweed, its crown rusted, and no longer gleamed with light. The hair and clothes were matted and rotting; and its face no longer represented a player that actually lived. It lugged itself out of the water, supporting itself with the one trident it held, rusted it was; yet it still gleamed with enchantment. The monster's belly was exposed, and showed scars and bite wounds from all monsters of the depth; its eyes shone in the midst of the rain. Not a good shine this was, but a dark and horrid shine of death and villany.
Thus, the village of Lanos fell, and a quick fall it was. The power of the drowned men lost at sea and the monstrous fish which shall be known as guardians within a couple hundred years, it was overwhelming. But our heroes would only find out about this within a couple of days…
…
Ventur caressed his beard, “If Herobrine is truly back; and this attack from the Piglins was not an unplanned attack, then we must look for the next region that will be ambushed.”
“Indeed,” muttered Nareh.
“Has anything been heard from the West or the North?” Asked Skyzix, repositioning himself in his seat and releasing a slight cough.
“Not that I am aware of, I’m currently concerned about my area, not the land of others. I currently want to make sure that the Illagers are where they belong; in hell; isolated from society.”
Merkin spoke up, “We did tell you about that one group that we met far from their lands on our way here.”
“Right…”
Silence consumed the room, and consumed it for a long time it did, as the four players sat; and pondered.
It was only when Ventur spoke up again, that it finally broke. “Very well, Merkin and Nareh.” both men looked up. “Mind you take Lod and two of my men and traverse the forests to investigate what is of the current mansion now?”
“That is dangerous, but it is for the greater good.”
All four stood up, retreating the room, and headed to the bottom. They were greeted by friends and guards as they exited the column. But they wasted no time. The plan was explained to the company and two guards(going by the name of Pint and Quint) as well as Lod were retrieved. The five were given each a fine horse, food, water, and other necessities to survive for a couple days.
“How much do you need?” Asked Skyzix.
“Give us at least 4 to 5 days, if we’re not back by the early light of the 6th, issue a search party,” Merkin patted Skyzix, before signaling to the others to start riding.
As they rode off, Van looked at Skyzix, “What now?”
“Now, Van… we wait...
Chapter 11[]
And so they rode. Through the plains and fields; forests and swamps. As Merkin rode through the East with his partners, he noticed that things have begun to change. People were more cautious and often sounded agitated. The weather had begun to go cold; winter was coming; fast. As they approached the Illager woods; it was immediately noticeable that there were no guards. For such a treacherous forest which was to be monitored at all times; things seemed… very quiet. They retreated from their horses and tied them to a stump on the outskirts of the forest before heading in.
The air felt thick, with a thin layer of fog covering the forest floor; causing the dirt to be wet and sloppy. The trees seemed distorted and bent; as if the evil inside had consumed them too. There were no bushed or other greens to be seen. So far no guards had been seen, nor any foul creatures. Nareh unsheathed his sword, the loud noise breaking the silence of the woods; causing Lod to leap. They had begun reaching the outskirts of the mansion. The old wood that had once been fresh gave off a smell of death. The cobblestone that made up the supports of the mansion was unidentifiable. It looked unnatural. The glass was dusty and it seemed to be dark inside.
‘If the illagers are still here, we are certainly being ambushed,’ thought Merkin to himself.
Quint and Pint were now gripping their halberds, their hands sweating, and their faces ghastly. The five creeped around the back and made their way to the front. Approaching the large door; the only thing on the outside that still seemed to be intact and in good condition.
Merkin stopped, before turning around and loudly-whispering to the five, “If we are to be ambushed, fight, do not run. Their ravagers will run you down and their arrows will pierce your flesh if you flee. I recommend unsheathing your weapons now if you haven’t yet. May luck be with us.”
He whirled back towards the door as Lod agreed with a grunt. Merkin heaved his foot onto the door, before pushing it with a groan. The large door creaked open, revealing a set of staircases leading upstairs and a thick red wool carpet leading down two hallways. It smelled of mold, and no sound could be heard other than their footsteps landing softly on the carpet.
“Where are the illagers?” asked Pint.
“Shh!”
But indeed it seemed as if the mansion was empty. They had walked around for a bit now, and were certain they would’ve been ambushed; but alas nothing came. They had begun to let their guard down and investigate what laid inside the rooms. One room had a large farm inside it, growing potatoes that seemed to have rotted and carrots which were eaten out by ravagers. Another room contained pots of flowers and other dead and unidentifiable plants. They were all placed neatly on wooden shelves, which seemed brand new and untouched. A different room contained rows and rows of chests leading from top to bottom. Once again, laying neatly on shelves. Yet further exploration led to them discovering that the chests were empty. A different room seemed like a boxing room, with a ring in the middle covered in wooden fences and balconies located around.
They had reached the stairs. There was no evidence that the Illagers were in their mansion so far, And if they weren’t; where did they head off to? They continued advancing to the second floor, continuing to explore more rooms. Dining rooms and kitchens they passed, being messy as if all the Illagers had just eaten, yet they were empty. No sign of life could be seen. Eventually they had reached the final floor. This one was smaller, more compact, the rooms seemed to be more empty. They were nearing the end of a corner and were about to start investigating the very last hallway of the mansion when Nareh had noticed that Pint was missing. The stubby guard had vanished. No one knew where he had gone off to or when he had left them. They started retracing their steps; calling out to the king’s guard.
…
Back when they were coming up the stairs to the third floor, Pint was in the back. Grudgingly thinking to himself as to why he had come here and what they were looking for. He wasn’t very good with other races, nor was he good with places. As he was determining this, something caught his eye, but before he could tell any of his buddies it was long gone. He trodded down the stairs, unnanouncing his departure, his mind conjecturing and putting together as to what he had just seen. He turned the corner and saw it as clear as daylight. It was a small fairy, about the size of his hand. He stared at it in awe. It was pale, its wings fluttered, letting it hover midair. It stared at him with its pale eyes. Tilting its head, before giggling.
Pint then heard fluttering behind him, he whizzed around to see nothing. And as he turned back he saw an extra three fairies by the original fairies side. They were all mimicking each other; tilting their heads back and forth, giggling at the same time. Pint begin to wonder if he had made a grave mistake. He backed up towards the stairs only to see that there was another group of fairies, they formed a circle around him; surrounding him. The all giggled, their grins revealing sharp teeth, their soulless eye’s fixed on him. He swung his halberd, trying to make himself seem less terrified. But they seemed to not really care, they approached him at a constant rate. He could see small daggers in their small hands appear, they gleamed in the sun’s rays as it shone through the large windows positioned throughout the empty and silent hallways.
He groaned fearfully, swinging his halberd back and forth once again; spinning around in all directions. But they continued advancing, then a loud shriek filled the hallway. He saw the fairies turn red, their eyes as black as the pits of hell themselves. They stopped hovering and rushed at him. He felt pain ravaging his body. He roared, dropping his halberd, before sprinting back towards the stairs and falling to his knees…
…
They had heard his screams. The four rushed downstairs; expecting the worst. They heard him scream again, this time it was ear-piercing. They ran out to the hallway of the second floor to see pint, on the ground, face down. Scratches and bruises covered his body; his clothes torn and matted from whatever had attacked him; his halberd lay a couple metres away from him. He wasn’t moving; nor breathing. He was dead. They heard shrieks come from down the hallways.
Nareh suspired, “We’re not alone.”
They all kept quiet, not daring to be caught by whatever evil was hid within these walls. Little did they know they were watched, and have been watched; ever since they took their very first steps inside.
They proceeded to back up, with Lod and Nareh having their weapons drawn out; ready to be used against whatever comes at them. They continued walking back from whence they came from. That is to be said, very cautiously. Things began easing up when they started approaching the hallway to the third floor once more. The beams of the midday sun shining through the large open windows. The darkness of the enclosed staircase began fading away as they were engulfed in light. By now Lod had eased up, though Nareh was fully aware that easing up now would put them at a vulnerable position. He remained with his weapon drawn, and motioned to Quint to make sure he’s on guard. He nodded.
Finally, they had come to the final room. Unlike others, this had a particular door; with writing and pictures carved into it.
‘Hugmphe ryghimpie morpho liem brieg nyh ‘Glof - hiahraverg’
The door was made from dark oak, it was old; and moldy. The iron hinges that held the door in place were seemingly rusted. Without hesitation they heaved the door open. It opened inwards, and as it did, it let out a loud creak; tensing being put on the hinges once more.
…
Inside lay a throne room. Decorated with Illager propaganda, torches, and raid flags and trophies that had been kept since the age of the Great Wars. The windows were tinted with black dye, and it seemed as if no light was passing through. The walls were made from old stone, covered with thick moss; and wood; old, rotted wood. Their only source of visibility now were the torches. At the end of the large room sat a throne, decorated with emerald blocks and artifacts that are unbeknownst to the player race. On the throne sat a small Illager, about twice as small as a regular player. His skin was dark grey, as if it was rotting, his eyebrows bushy and rising onto his forehead. He wore dark blue robes, and a red amulet lay over his chest. By him was a golden staff, it gleamed as the torches continued lighting the room, a red crystal floating over it. He also wore a tall and small crown. It was once again gold, at the front of it were two crystals positioned into the crown. The bottom one was blue, as if it was the sea itself, the top crystal was once again; red.
He giggled, sounding snotty. They approached him slowly, as he kept his eye contact on them; reaching for his staff.
Quint, gripping onto his halberd; approached the shortened illager. “W- Wh- Who are you?” He was trembling, the fear could be heard within his voice.
The illager giggled again, by now, the staff was in his hand.
“Who are you!” Quint continued approaching the illager, his halberd position in front of him; ready to impale the small creature if needed.
The illager let out a loud bellow, before staring at Quint with a devious look. It was as time had frozen, no one moved, nor talked. Suddenly a red beam of light illuminated the room with a bang, as Quint was catapulted across the room. When all was clear, it was evident that Quint was dead. There was a hole in his chest; he was positioned by the door; his body slouched over before sliding onto his side; his halberd laid on the other side. The illager repositioned his weapon, a smell of burnt flesh now encompassed the room.
“I am the Arch-Illager,” he spoke in a high-pitched voice, with a very strong and heavy accent. “I do not find guests such as you to be very welcome here; especially those that come into my home with weapons, ready to kill me.”
Merkin approached him, his sword drawn. The Arch-Illager giggled once again, before silencing as Merkin positioned the tip of his weapon to the Illager’s throat. He growled, sneering at Merkin.
“Tell me, you soulless scum; what has happened to your men, and your son. Now!” Merkin roared, stiffening his weapon.
“They’ve departed to kill off your kind, human,” the Arch-Illager sneered as he smiled at Merkin, tilting his head slightly back.
“To where?!”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question, you lowlife mortal.”
“Then, you shall die,” Merkin spat. The Arch-Illager bellowed, stiffening his staff. Merkin readied his sword, ready to cut the Arch-Illager’s throat. But before he could the red light had filled the room once more. The beam missed merkin, as he was flung back a couple of blocks, instead the light had directed itself to Lod, hitting him in the thigh. He roared, dropping his mace and falling to his knees; gripping his leg.
After the strength of the explosion passed, and Merkin had gained his footing again, he lunged at the Illager. Another explosion went off; this time hitting the wall, causing the inner layer to crumble and a small fire to start; luckily Merkin had dove to the floor. Being underneath the Arch-Illager now, he raised his sword before he could strike again. All of a sudden he felt heavy pain on his face, as the Arch-Illager loosened his grip on his staff, letting the bottom of it smack Merkin in the face. Merkin recoiled; groaning from the pain as the Illager battered him again. He rolled over, loosening the grip on his sword; shielding his face from another attack.
…
The Arch-Illager had enjoyed this far too much. He wobbled his small legs from joy, preparing to incinerate Merkin.
‘How stupid and weak players have become. Unable to tolerate any pain; this is far too easy.’
The Arch-Illager giggled again before looking up, and seeing a furious Nareh position a sword against his chest and thrust. The sound of flesh being pierced filled the room. The Arch-Illager gargled as his staff fell to the ground; the crystal shattering. His head and eyes rolled up as he continued garling. Nareh pushed further, cracking the amulet, the Illagers arm went loose as they dropped limply to his sides. Nareh then released the sword from his chest. The Arch-Illager fell off the throne, and to the floor next to Merkin. His crown had fallen off, and the robe was now stained with grey blood. He continued gargling for a couple seconds, before it all went silent.
Nareh turned around; rushing to Lod’s side. Helping him stand up. His leg hadn’t been fully pierced, and only a bit of flesh had been burnt off. Merkin had also by now stood up, one arm gripping his sword; the other his face. He looked down blankly at the dead Illager kind, kicking his crown across the room.
“Well then that’s that,” He uttered, limping to open the door for an injured Lod and Nareh. “We need to leave quickly, we do not know the location of the Illager army, nor do we want to remain here and be burnt alive.”
The fire had begun to spread quickly, and as Lod and Nareh emptied the room, Merkin stared at Quint’s lifeless body, and thought about the two guards who had fallen that day. He watched, as the fire engulfed Quint and began to creep up and burn him; listening to the sound of fire crackling.
‘Weaklings.’
With those words he sneered, leaving the room; and the door shutting behind him with a loud thud. The throne room continued burning; the glass shattering, as it all collapsed. Even if the Illagers were to win their battle; wherever they were; they would return to absolute incineration, and their leader… nowhere to be found.
…
The messenger blared his goat horn as he rode into the capitol, with Nareh and Merkin departing just less than five minutes ago; most of the company were still not inside, including the king. The messenger blared his horn again before stopping his horse and retreating off of it. He sprinted up to the king before pulling out a slip of paper from his coat pocket and began to frantically read off of it.
“The fishing village to the East, Lanos was attacked about a day or two ago by dead men of the sea and large fish. The East is under attack and request the support of the armies!” With those words he retreated.
Ventur seemed dismayed as he stroked his beard for a solid couple of minutes before turning to Dane, “Gather the men, tell them to prepare for battle. They cannot stray far from water; we will come to them, and kill them; whatever these dead men are.”
“Drowned,” muttered Skyzix. “Men that fell into the water, and haven’t seen the light of day since. As for the big fish… I am unsure; most likely they are the guardians from the Monument of the West? I don’t know.”
“Either way; we will defeat them and bring back peace to the East!”
And thus the army of Syzeria began to gather.
WIP