25
Prologue
Morning was breaking atop the tall and lush mountains of this fresh new day in the world of Minecraftia; The sun glared down upon the vast, cobble streets - markets bustling with life, laughter and love, the traders of both near and far lands rushing in through the gates followed by large, wooden caravans, escorted by the large armoured men that steadily paced after the caravans. Men, Women and children of all vast ages, each with their own stories to tell and lives to enjoy from the poor street urchins to the mightiest of lords in the land; trade provided wealth amongst the various cities and kingdoms of this absurd land which somehow was emanating with a familiar, home like feeling. The days were long and even as the sun cycled into night, trading places with the ominous moon that shone through the dim clouds, the streets continued to have the odd butcher or villager wandering the streets (usually rushing to their stead).
Life was good for these industrious and prosperous people, food from the fauna of the surrounding twisted landscapes ranging from long windy rivers like the branches on the tallest of jungle trees to the tallest of distorted mountain tops within the horizon of vast and shimmering deserts - though this was of course all because of the actions taken by 'The Founder', The Founder was worshipped by all, in every city, small village and home be it through the praying at a shrine or attending full blown ceremonies within a cathedral (or chapel for the smaller, still developing villages) - the village people from the world of Minecraftia obeyed the laws and choice of lifestyle guidelines set by The Founder. Of course this mysterious, unknown deity known as The Founder had taken name from the vast cultures of Minecraftia: Dominus, simply the word 'Lord' and even in some cases he was referred to as 'master' but the most common and admired name chosen was of course 'Notch', who brought upon a new era of life to the world of Minecraftia when he pleased.
Chapter 1
Over the months that followed the first era, The Classic Era, through to the first sightings of a new found darkness which would be to threaten the entire species of Human along with the world of Minecraftia itself, this was of course in the era of A 1.0.0, The Alpha Era. By now most of the civilizations of the world had grown distant, too distant. Fighting. Battles. Wars. Destruction. Races were wiped out in short periods of time until only the humans remained. The first sighting of the new threat, little be known to the poor soul that set eyes upon it would result in the spreading of a terrible plague that had stricken the land with death, mayhem and fighting. Some say that it was a hunter returning from an evening's good game, wandering through the forest he stumbled across a great regret - mossy rocks forming an evil room of darkness revealing the dreadful eyes of terror itself in physical form, originating from the glowing, thorn covered shrine in the centre of the room, corpses began to rise throughout the room. And so it began. The hunter returned to the village covered in wounds and barely conscious, struggling to walk as he clambered on in through the village gates; it was then that the transformation began - his skin began to rot and turn from a bright pinkie flesh, to an ashy grey to finally a pale rotten green. He was no longer alive, he had died and rotted within seconds of entering the village.
As the first dusk of the new month shattered the once dark sky with its bright and reminiscent glow, a crowd amassed towards the entrance to discover the hunter lay on the ground, rotting, bleeding and barely even recognisable as human. Of course a sense of dread had shivered through the village people's hearts in the dead silence of this horrific scene - a groaning came from the man, bringing relief to all the sweating people who glared eyes upon him. That relief quickly turned to confusion and then fears they begun to realise what was happening - a mass hysteria broke out that day amongst the village as not only was the hunter alive, he was undead. He lunged towards the closest villager, biting at her ankles as she let out a spine tingling scream until the screaming turned into silence and the silence turned into more groaning, this was the outbreak of the first threat of the new world. The dead walk again.
Chapter 2
News had spread amongst the lands of the new invasion of death through the form of a virus plaguing the lands with the undead, however this news was slow spread and help and information was slow received. Villages and bustling cities alike waited anxiously for the new reports each day of the ever progressing, frightening undead menace but it was in vein as death reached them first. The most anyone still alive amongst the remaining settlements knew of this new terror wee that 1, they were the dead arisen to kill them, 2, they thrived in densely populated areas spreading faster and faster the more people were infected and finally, 3, there were reported cases of the dead feasting on the humans and not turning them into zombies but instead gnawing down at the flesh, muscle and organs until there was just bone, a graphic and sickening thought. But what came to a surprise was that not only did this happened to the living humans inhabiting infected settlements but scouts into the lost territories reported cannibalism amongst the horrifying crowds of dead leaving the same, twisted results.
A red-purple flash indicated the next new next threat, it was a cold, wintery night in Minecraftia when the groaning of the dead and the smell of rotting corpses were no longer significant to the inhabitants of the world but instead the fact that the scattered bones of skeletal humanoids both zombie and human alike began to glow with the same daunting and ominous colour of the threatening lightening, these skeletons, the dead of the dead arose once more... Mass panic spread throughout the entirety of the world that un-fortunate night as walking skeletons began to stand, shaking off the dust from their blood stained ribs and cracked skulls. But something different happened to the skeletons that the zombies did not accomplish, the ash grey, silvery iron blades and cracking, old wooden bows that lay rested on the corpse filled, and ash covered floor once again were used but this time not for the good of humanity but for the upcoming evil of what were now skeletal archers.
Villages were wiped out in seconds of contact with this rising, soon to be dominant threat, even the walled stone capitals were tested against the oncoming waves of onslaught and death from both human and monster armies. This terrorising and slaughter occurred for up to a mere half a year before all but the secluded, distant villages far, far away from the dense mainland cities remained. A population of human kind on the world of Minecraftia reduced from 7 billion to an astonishing, mere 10 thousand, the village's in the barren north were safe from the frost that killed the zombies but were left with the waves of skeletons that were inevitably going to cause their demise and soon fall to the might of the undead in due time as they could not ward off the dead forever and with nothing to defend themselves with, even though enemy numbers were thinned down due to the blistering frosty winds killing zombies and even delaying and in some cases immobilising skeletons.
Chapter 3
A small and recently unaware village in the plains of a not so distant island off of the coast of the main continent that resides on Minecraftia enjoyed the peace and bliss, for now, secluded from the death that would surely await them on the mainland. However peaceful it may be, the people of this village could not sleep easy from the dreaded thoughts of death and guilt as they sat back and watched in guilt, unable to do anything at the destruction of life as they knew it. It was only from escaping ships and traders of the mainland who found themselves drifting towards the village that the village became aware of the devastating situation. Dawn, almost a year since the outbreak. The village decided to take action; to avoid extinction as one of the few remaining villages in the world, a small group of intrepid explorers, fighters and survivalists of the best the village the island had to offer set out across the sea searching for new land to settle on and hopefully redevelop and civilize, the head of this group, a natural leader and expert in all fields of craft and mining was known as: 'Steve'.
Months passed travelling across the harsh sea, 2 of the originally 8 men who set out had been killed and rations of the group grew low. Another man died due to heat exhaustion and dehydration having traversed the scorching red sanded desert and gotten separated from the group in a sand storm - Darude, a survivalist ironically, leaving only but 1 survivalist in the group excluding Steve. More men died when the low-morale group were forced to trek across the barren, ice layered, snowy tundra's leaving only Steve and his most skilled guard and best friend - his friend, Herobrine aspired the same goals as Steve and fought alongside and worked with him countless times but this harsh quest was deriving the two of trust and leaving nothing but hatred and of course fear. Another night passed in the new and threatening land as Steve and Herobrine sat by the campfire, delicately enjoying the last of their rations, having seen no sign of life and only death so far, the two men who had come so far were on the brink of giving up. That unfortunate night, a fight broke out between the two resulting in normally major injuries by the end of the fight - nothing good had come from this except the clarification, the clarification that there was no hope left for Steve's one dear friend Herobrine' sanity; though this was not a relief entirely for Steve he was now sure of one thing: he must go on alone.
Having been rendered unconscious from the fight, Herobrine laid in the mud beneath an unnatural looking crag, jagging out of the side of a primarily flat, grassy landscape. Steve took his chance, he ran and ran and ran as fast as his limp leg could carry him across the land, he must get as far away from that enemy friend of his and find hope if not for the village which by know he sought impossible to return to then for himself, he swore to survive and keep on living for the sake of himself, the village and the avengement of humanity. This was the night he would break free of the burden he carried, weighing him down to the pits of hell, this was his time to live. He stumbled and cried in agony as he slipped in mud, tripped on roots and fell down steep climbs until he found himself completely and utterly lost with nothing of recognition except the ocean. He had one choice, to escape, to escape his peril, his worries and all with his life; Steve, the most skilled of his home village, entrusted with the survival of humanity was to be branded a traitor and a coward for the rest of his life lest he redeem himself by avenging humanity.
Epilogue
Steve, awoke in his woollen bed in his crudely made house quickly fashioned for survival against the once mythical threat he heard stories about now in reality coming to continue its cycle of death to him. He gathered up his armour, wielded his sword and stepped outside cautiously, Only since he came to this new land had he seen such a creature to the likes of the undead menace that brought the end to humanity. No, it was worse than that. surveying his surroundings, assessing the environment for the one threat he was never informed about, Green defensive tendrils wrapping around its unknown monstrous nature coloured body, with deep, cracking holes which only saw the sorrows of life bringing only the relief of death walking amidst the oaks ahead of him, he peered over the wheat filled farm, past the doorway to the depths of hellish stone in his mine and through the dark horizon within the tall and windy trees. A grim reminder of how dark and cruel this world is all with the end of the lives of many tortured souls. I am the courier of pain. I bring the destruction of all. I am death.
Well thats my story, summing up to 2,162 words, written within like 2 hours (idk lol) - I hope you like it.
Morning was breaking atop the tall and lush mountains of this fresh new day in the world of Minecraftia; The sun glared down upon the vast, cobble streets - markets bustling with life, laughter and love, the traders of both near and far lands rushing in through the gates followed by large, wooden caravans, escorted by the large armoured men that steadily paced after the caravans. Men, Women and children of all vast ages, each with their own stories to tell and lives to enjoy from the poor street urchins to the mightiest of lords in the land; trade provided wealth amongst the various cities and kingdoms of this absurd land which somehow was emanating with a familiar, home like feeling. The days were long and even as the sun cycled into night, trading places with the ominous moon that shone through the dim clouds, the streets continued to have the odd butcher or villager wandering the streets (usually rushing to their stead).
Life was good for these industrious and prosperous people, food from the fauna of the surrounding twisted landscapes ranging from long windy rivers like the branches on the tallest of jungle trees to the tallest of distorted mountain tops within the horizon of vast and shimmering deserts - though this was of course all because of the actions taken by 'The Founder', The Founder was worshipped by all, in every city, small village and home be it through the praying at a shrine or attending full blown ceremonies within a cathedral (or chapel for the smaller, still developing villages) - the village people from the world of Minecraftia obeyed the laws and choice of lifestyle guidelines set by The Founder. Of course this mysterious, unknown deity known as The Founder had taken name from the vast cultures of Minecraftia: Dominus, simply the word 'Lord' and even in some cases he was referred to as 'master' but the most common and admired name chosen was of course 'Notch', who brought upon a new era of life to the world of Minecraftia when he pleased.
Chapter 1
Over the months that followed the first era, The Classic Era, through to the first sightings of a new found darkness which would be to threaten the entire species of Human along with the world of Minecraftia itself, this was of course in the era of A 1.0.0, The Alpha Era. By now most of the civilizations of the world had grown distant, too distant. Fighting. Battles. Wars. Destruction. Races were wiped out in short periods of time until only the humans remained. The first sighting of the new threat, little be known to the poor soul that set eyes upon it would result in the spreading of a terrible plague that had stricken the land with death, mayhem and fighting. Some say that it was a hunter returning from an evening's good game, wandering through the forest he stumbled across a great regret - mossy rocks forming an evil room of darkness revealing the dreadful eyes of terror itself in physical form, originating from the glowing, thorn covered shrine in the centre of the room, corpses began to rise throughout the room. And so it began. The hunter returned to the village covered in wounds and barely conscious, struggling to walk as he clambered on in through the village gates; it was then that the transformation began - his skin began to rot and turn from a bright pinkie flesh, to an ashy grey to finally a pale rotten green. He was no longer alive, he had died and rotted within seconds of entering the village.
As the first dusk of the new month shattered the once dark sky with its bright and reminiscent glow, a crowd amassed towards the entrance to discover the hunter lay on the ground, rotting, bleeding and barely even recognisable as human. Of course a sense of dread had shivered through the village people's hearts in the dead silence of this horrific scene - a groaning came from the man, bringing relief to all the sweating people who glared eyes upon him. That relief quickly turned to confusion and then fears they begun to realise what was happening - a mass hysteria broke out that day amongst the village as not only was the hunter alive, he was undead. He lunged towards the closest villager, biting at her ankles as she let out a spine tingling scream until the screaming turned into silence and the silence turned into more groaning, this was the outbreak of the first threat of the new world. The dead walk again.
Chapter 2
News had spread amongst the lands of the new invasion of death through the form of a virus plaguing the lands with the undead, however this news was slow spread and help and information was slow received. Villages and bustling cities alike waited anxiously for the new reports each day of the ever progressing, frightening undead menace but it was in vein as death reached them first. The most anyone still alive amongst the remaining settlements knew of this new terror wee that 1, they were the dead arisen to kill them, 2, they thrived in densely populated areas spreading faster and faster the more people were infected and finally, 3, there were reported cases of the dead feasting on the humans and not turning them into zombies but instead gnawing down at the flesh, muscle and organs until there was just bone, a graphic and sickening thought. But what came to a surprise was that not only did this happened to the living humans inhabiting infected settlements but scouts into the lost territories reported cannibalism amongst the horrifying crowds of dead leaving the same, twisted results.
A red-purple flash indicated the next new next threat, it was a cold, wintery night in Minecraftia when the groaning of the dead and the smell of rotting corpses were no longer significant to the inhabitants of the world but instead the fact that the scattered bones of skeletal humanoids both zombie and human alike began to glow with the same daunting and ominous colour of the threatening lightening, these skeletons, the dead of the dead arose once more... Mass panic spread throughout the entirety of the world that un-fortunate night as walking skeletons began to stand, shaking off the dust from their blood stained ribs and cracked skulls. But something different happened to the skeletons that the zombies did not accomplish, the ash grey, silvery iron blades and cracking, old wooden bows that lay rested on the corpse filled, and ash covered floor once again were used but this time not for the good of humanity but for the upcoming evil of what were now skeletal archers.
Villages were wiped out in seconds of contact with this rising, soon to be dominant threat, even the walled stone capitals were tested against the oncoming waves of onslaught and death from both human and monster armies. This terrorising and slaughter occurred for up to a mere half a year before all but the secluded, distant villages far, far away from the dense mainland cities remained. A population of human kind on the world of Minecraftia reduced from 7 billion to an astonishing, mere 10 thousand, the village's in the barren north were safe from the frost that killed the zombies but were left with the waves of skeletons that were inevitably going to cause their demise and soon fall to the might of the undead in due time as they could not ward off the dead forever and with nothing to defend themselves with, even though enemy numbers were thinned down due to the blistering frosty winds killing zombies and even delaying and in some cases immobilising skeletons.
Chapter 3
A small and recently unaware village in the plains of a not so distant island off of the coast of the main continent that resides on Minecraftia enjoyed the peace and bliss, for now, secluded from the death that would surely await them on the mainland. However peaceful it may be, the people of this village could not sleep easy from the dreaded thoughts of death and guilt as they sat back and watched in guilt, unable to do anything at the destruction of life as they knew it. It was only from escaping ships and traders of the mainland who found themselves drifting towards the village that the village became aware of the devastating situation. Dawn, almost a year since the outbreak. The village decided to take action; to avoid extinction as one of the few remaining villages in the world, a small group of intrepid explorers, fighters and survivalists of the best the village the island had to offer set out across the sea searching for new land to settle on and hopefully redevelop and civilize, the head of this group, a natural leader and expert in all fields of craft and mining was known as: 'Steve'.
Months passed travelling across the harsh sea, 2 of the originally 8 men who set out had been killed and rations of the group grew low. Another man died due to heat exhaustion and dehydration having traversed the scorching red sanded desert and gotten separated from the group in a sand storm - Darude, a survivalist ironically, leaving only but 1 survivalist in the group excluding Steve. More men died when the low-morale group were forced to trek across the barren, ice layered, snowy tundra's leaving only Steve and his most skilled guard and best friend - his friend, Herobrine aspired the same goals as Steve and fought alongside and worked with him countless times but this harsh quest was deriving the two of trust and leaving nothing but hatred and of course fear. Another night passed in the new and threatening land as Steve and Herobrine sat by the campfire, delicately enjoying the last of their rations, having seen no sign of life and only death so far, the two men who had come so far were on the brink of giving up. That unfortunate night, a fight broke out between the two resulting in normally major injuries by the end of the fight - nothing good had come from this except the clarification, the clarification that there was no hope left for Steve's one dear friend Herobrine' sanity; though this was not a relief entirely for Steve he was now sure of one thing: he must go on alone.
Having been rendered unconscious from the fight, Herobrine laid in the mud beneath an unnatural looking crag, jagging out of the side of a primarily flat, grassy landscape. Steve took his chance, he ran and ran and ran as fast as his limp leg could carry him across the land, he must get as far away from that enemy friend of his and find hope if not for the village which by know he sought impossible to return to then for himself, he swore to survive and keep on living for the sake of himself, the village and the avengement of humanity. This was the night he would break free of the burden he carried, weighing him down to the pits of hell, this was his time to live. He stumbled and cried in agony as he slipped in mud, tripped on roots and fell down steep climbs until he found himself completely and utterly lost with nothing of recognition except the ocean. He had one choice, to escape, to escape his peril, his worries and all with his life; Steve, the most skilled of his home village, entrusted with the survival of humanity was to be branded a traitor and a coward for the rest of his life lest he redeem himself by avenging humanity.
Epilogue
Steve, awoke in his woollen bed in his crudely made house quickly fashioned for survival against the once mythical threat he heard stories about now in reality coming to continue its cycle of death to him. He gathered up his armour, wielded his sword and stepped outside cautiously, Only since he came to this new land had he seen such a creature to the likes of the undead menace that brought the end to humanity. No, it was worse than that. surveying his surroundings, assessing the environment for the one threat he was never informed about, Green defensive tendrils wrapping around its unknown monstrous nature coloured body, with deep, cracking holes which only saw the sorrows of life bringing only the relief of death walking amidst the oaks ahead of him, he peered over the wheat filled farm, past the doorway to the depths of hellish stone in his mine and through the dark horizon within the tall and windy trees. A grim reminder of how dark and cruel this world is all with the end of the lives of many tortured souls. I am the courier of pain. I bring the destruction of all. I am death.
Well thats my story, summing up to 2,162 words, written within like 2 hours (idk lol) - I hope you like it.
Hey did you find the Darude - Sandstorm reference?
SPOILER
SPOILER
SPOILER
SPOILER
SPOILER
If you didnt understand the epilogue ending: Steve encounters his worst nightmare, a creeper and thats it, the ending could be up to you, does he live or does the creper kill him?
END SPOILER
END SPOILER
END SPOILER
END SPOILER
Also the epilogue is just my little addon for the story as if he found the mainland which is home to all the monsters and has built a home and has set up a start like you do in survival with a mine and farm etc.
SPOILER
SPOILER
SPOILER
SPOILER
SPOILER
If you didnt understand the epilogue ending: Steve encounters his worst nightmare, a creeper and thats it, the ending could be up to you, does he live or does the creper kill him?
END SPOILER
END SPOILER
END SPOILER
END SPOILER
Also the epilogue is just my little addon for the story as if he found the mainland which is home to all the monsters and has built a home and has set up a start like you do in survival with a mine and farm etc.
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Edit: after reading it:
I've seen the "2.158" words now, guess I win in length but yours is kinda beast story! :)
Checking on spelling, grammar etc is fair and normal
but the layout?
Idk man but since I don't care about winning, just wanting to participate I also don't care what they judge on.