I hope you come to enjoy the new series, with weekly parts. Also if there are any writers out there who wana help, feel free to message me :smile.gif:
Part One - Cold milk.
In a part of minecraft sits a town. A town that sits atop a cliff that overlooks a vast amount of swamp, sand and sea. This land and it's town have existed ever since the breaking of the portals and before. Among them their is one boy, only just done with his learning's at the church who doe's not seek fame, adventure or wealth, he seeks knowledge. Allot of the others revel in the thought of learning what lies beyond their forest's and below their cliff but during his learning he became inspired by the ancient story of a massive war between the Pigmen and the Ender-cult, but the remainder of the story was lost centuries ago. He enters the local tavern with his usual garment of Blue robes tied together by a thin strip of red velvet. In his hand, like most others, he has a pickaxe representing his status. His was red, representing that he was an apprentice Cleric. The barkeep who had a wooden one, turned at his entrance. With few to no visitors he could easily attend to his tasks and meet his clientele. Most people of the town doubt the existence of other civilization. Just the odd survivor out in the wilderness. The barkeep handed him a bucket of milk and looked at it sorely.
"Milk?" The cleric looked at it disappointed.
"I cant get any booze for a while, it could be two..maybe three updates till another batch. sorry."
His face sank lower at the taste of the milk. It was warm, and almost had a lumpy feel to it as it went down his throat.
A large amount of whispering was heard about the town, this usually meant one of two things, someone had fallen of the cliff and he would be needed to perform a ritual of passing, or someone new had arrived. He hastened himself away from the unappetizing milk towards the exit door. As he approached it the door swung open, causing him to trip over his robe and landing on the feet of the antagonist of his stumbling. He looked up half expecting the head cleric to be their and asking what he was doing in a bar when such an incident had occurred, instead he saw an unfamiliar face. He was wrong about the death. The hand of this man reached out, stretching the mans lose fitting clothes of a simple light blue shirt, steel pants and hat.
"Sorry about the fella, you right?" the adventurer asked, The Cleric had no idea how to respond.
"Well here, have this snowball I made." he said pulling it out of a hind satchel. The Cleric took it with great discomfort. The coldest thing in their town was when it rained. He walked back to his seat and with no-where else to put it, placed the snow ball inside his milk. The Adventurer sat beside him and just stared for a moment at the empty bar shelves. The barkeep walked up and handed him a bucket of milk. It was the same yellowish lumpy texture. He sniffed it cringing his nose and eyebrows but still smiling as he pulled out a second snowball and placed it in his drink and slurped loudly, not realizing that all eyes were on him. The cleric looked down at his bucket and around the room as the eyes switched to him. He daringly took a large gulp of the drink and was so pleased by the lack of gag or foulness that seemed to penetrate his nose usually that he sculled the rest and placed it down with an overly satisfied "ahhhh"
the other three men who had buckets walked up to The adventurer and waited. The man smirked and raised a hand, almost simultaneously did the men then fall over and fake moaned in pain. He and The cleric smirked after which The Adventurer placed a snow ball in each bucket. Then men hobbled away satisfied with their lack of intelligence.
"Sure is a strange town you have here Cleric, am i right?" He said still thinking about the men and their charade.
The cleric handed his bucket to the Adventurer expectantly.
"That's one way to put it. So whats you're reason?" He said again expectantly.
"Reason for..."
"Reason for visiting Clifftop?"
"You may not have seen it, but about a miles way out there's a strange purple statue.
Cleric had seen it actually, once. An occasional trip that men like to take as a group and view it. He had gone to see the hunt but got caught in a history lesson from the Head Cleric.
"What off it?"
"Well, i heard of it and thought that if it were obsidian, then i could make a killing."
Obsidian he wondered about the same purple on the church, although it was one piece and represented the four plains. One of Grassy earth to represent the World, one of endersand to represent the end, one of netherock to represent the Netherworld and the purple one. He did not know of the purples meaning.
"Yes, i believe there's some on the church. But i see no use of it."
"Really." The adventurer said as he stood. "Goodnight Cleric, thanks for the chat." He said waking up the bar stairs towards the beds.
That night was not a peaceful one for The Cleric. The whole of is dream was of the statue in the swamp, but different. Flames stretched across it, silhouette and shadows fought and clashed. He woke inside the church to a scream that seemed to change as he became more conscious. He hurried outside to see the four blocks missing its purple. He knew immediately who it had been. He bolted over to the inn with his red pickaxe in hand. Furious he burst into the room and found only the note that was hastily written the night before.
"Dear Cleric, thanks for the heads up on the obsidian, you're friend, the Adventurer."
He knew where he was headed, the statue for more obsidian, but if any one else were to go, the Adventurer might notice and quicken. He knew that he would meet the man at the statue much faster and so quickly made a rough-sack of essentials and began off down the cliff.
Part One - Cold milk.
In a part of minecraft sits a town. A town that sits atop a cliff that overlooks a vast amount of swamp, sand and sea. This land and it's town have existed ever since the breaking of the portals and before. Among them their is one boy, only just done with his learning's at the church who doe's not seek fame, adventure or wealth, he seeks knowledge. Allot of the others revel in the thought of learning what lies beyond their forest's and below their cliff but during his learning he became inspired by the ancient story of a massive war between the Pigmen and the Ender-cult, but the remainder of the story was lost centuries ago. He enters the local tavern with his usual garment of Blue robes tied together by a thin strip of red velvet. In his hand, like most others, he has a pickaxe representing his status. His was red, representing that he was an apprentice Cleric. The barkeep who had a wooden one, turned at his entrance. With few to no visitors he could easily attend to his tasks and meet his clientele. Most people of the town doubt the existence of other civilization. Just the odd survivor out in the wilderness. The barkeep handed him a bucket of milk and looked at it sorely.
"Milk?" The cleric looked at it disappointed.
"I cant get any booze for a while, it could be two..maybe three updates till another batch. sorry."
His face sank lower at the taste of the milk. It was warm, and almost had a lumpy feel to it as it went down his throat.
A large amount of whispering was heard about the town, this usually meant one of two things, someone had fallen of the cliff and he would be needed to perform a ritual of passing, or someone new had arrived. He hastened himself away from the unappetizing milk towards the exit door. As he approached it the door swung open, causing him to trip over his robe and landing on the feet of the antagonist of his stumbling. He looked up half expecting the head cleric to be their and asking what he was doing in a bar when such an incident had occurred, instead he saw an unfamiliar face. He was wrong about the death. The hand of this man reached out, stretching the mans lose fitting clothes of a simple light blue shirt, steel pants and hat.
"Sorry about the fella, you right?" the adventurer asked, The Cleric had no idea how to respond.
"Well here, have this snowball I made." he said pulling it out of a hind satchel. The Cleric took it with great discomfort. The coldest thing in their town was when it rained. He walked back to his seat and with no-where else to put it, placed the snow ball inside his milk. The Adventurer sat beside him and just stared for a moment at the empty bar shelves. The barkeep walked up and handed him a bucket of milk. It was the same yellowish lumpy texture. He sniffed it cringing his nose and eyebrows but still smiling as he pulled out a second snowball and placed it in his drink and slurped loudly, not realizing that all eyes were on him. The cleric looked down at his bucket and around the room as the eyes switched to him. He daringly took a large gulp of the drink and was so pleased by the lack of gag or foulness that seemed to penetrate his nose usually that he sculled the rest and placed it down with an overly satisfied "ahhhh"
the other three men who had buckets walked up to The adventurer and waited. The man smirked and raised a hand, almost simultaneously did the men then fall over and fake moaned in pain. He and The cleric smirked after which The Adventurer placed a snow ball in each bucket. Then men hobbled away satisfied with their lack of intelligence.
"Sure is a strange town you have here Cleric, am i right?" He said still thinking about the men and their charade.
The cleric handed his bucket to the Adventurer expectantly.
"That's one way to put it. So whats you're reason?" He said again expectantly.
"Reason for..."
"Reason for visiting Clifftop?"
"You may not have seen it, but about a miles way out there's a strange purple statue.
Cleric had seen it actually, once. An occasional trip that men like to take as a group and view it. He had gone to see the hunt but got caught in a history lesson from the Head Cleric.
"What off it?"
"Well, i heard of it and thought that if it were obsidian, then i could make a killing."
Obsidian he wondered about the same purple on the church, although it was one piece and represented the four plains. One of Grassy earth to represent the World, one of endersand to represent the end, one of netherock to represent the Netherworld and the purple one. He did not know of the purples meaning.
"Yes, i believe there's some on the church. But i see no use of it."
"Really." The adventurer said as he stood. "Goodnight Cleric, thanks for the chat." He said waking up the bar stairs towards the beds.
That night was not a peaceful one for The Cleric. The whole of is dream was of the statue in the swamp, but different. Flames stretched across it, silhouette and shadows fought and clashed. He woke inside the church to a scream that seemed to change as he became more conscious. He hurried outside to see the four blocks missing its purple. He knew immediately who it had been. He bolted over to the inn with his red pickaxe in hand. Furious he burst into the room and found only the note that was hastily written the night before.
"Dear Cleric, thanks for the heads up on the obsidian, you're friend, the Adventurer."
He knew where he was headed, the statue for more obsidian, but if any one else were to go, the Adventurer might notice and quicken. He knew that he would meet the man at the statue much faster and so quickly made a rough-sack of essentials and began off down the cliff.Part 2: Paranioa
The fresh air was a nice change. Usually the air was so thin and stuffy on top of the cliff that you could hardly breath. The further down he got the more he noticed it had changed since he had last been there. The swamp waters had lessened to puddles and the trees had grown higher, it was almost a forest, but it still carried the smell and was thick with fog. Cleric looked around slowly, half expecting to be attacked. His every move was filled with paranoia from the previous nights dream. In his head he kept thinking of worst case scenarios, like what if a skeleton had hid in the water were the fog was extra thick, just waiting for prey to stroll by uncaring, then it could lunge out at its foe and drag it back to the waters were it had hid. Along the way The Cleric continued to worry but only until hunger caught up with him. He pulled out some bread he had taken from the Farmer earlier and sat on the stump furthest from any water. Across the nearby lake he saw a little silverfish trapped on a leaf. He watched it scurry back and forth a bit franticly and thought how I must have fell from an adjacent tree. He contemplated going into the sludge for a bit, but this thought was cut short by the sight of three squid launching their tentacle's out of the water at the little silverfish, and dragging it to the dark sludge without a drop or splash. This caused The Cleric to lose his appetite and decided to continue through the swamp. His paranoia of every tree being a zombie standing with its arms stretched out quickly died when he decided to keep out his pickaxe. Even in the village were the most excitement was the occasional lose cow, he kept it out, he didn't really know why either.
"Okay, the statue should be past the next fog bank." He said allowed.
"Then I can catch up to that son of a ***** that took the purple block."
The further through the bank he got, the more tension he felt. He knew in his head that he would get there before The Adventurer, but he still felt the paranoia creeping up on him, just like how he now crept up to the statue. He finally reached it. A shudder fell down his spine when his eye's looked at its form. It was purple from the ground up. It shaped with one row going straight up and then four rows wavering up and branching out at the top. His shudder returned, this time going up his back.
"So you followed." Said The Adventure. "All for one block.
"One block that has no value to you." The Cleric said angrily, trying to keep his lip from shaking or changing his voice.
"Wrong, it can do more than you simpletons know." He said profoundly.
"Actually, that block is NOT obsidian."
"How do you..."
"I asked the head Cleric. That piece you have is just Stone painted purple. The statue on the other hand is. But this time, I stop you!" He said and lunged at him with his red pickaxe.
The adventurer quickly side stepped the uncoordinated attack and threw an axe past the head of Cleric.
"Back off kid, I need the statue." The Adventure puffed. "There's allot going on.
"No, I need that piece back, and you don't deserve the statue."
"Look, without the statue pieces I cant-" he was cut off by the sound of explosion. The fog was forced away from the area by wind. Atop the cliff, fire fell to the ground.
"What the cra-" thunder struck down on the earth near them and from the smoke men with pig faces and missing chunks of flesh stood.
"Get to the town, NOW!" The Adventurer order'd while throwing steel axes at the heads of the Pigmen.
A shadow rushed over their heads making them slow for only a second. A black dragon flew towards the cliff. Landing just on the ledge and breathed a white flame across the village. Men and woman fled if lucky, some caught flame through falling walls and turned to ash. The Adventurer shoved The cleric into the nearby lake were the silverfish had been take and began digging three blocks down, then two to the side. They his by the light of a torch and waited for the sound of fire and destruction, and the smell of rotten flesh tearing burnt flesh apart with wooden swords.
The Cleric Held back the urge to run outside. The town had fallen.
Part Three:
And from the hole they emerged later on. The smell of ash thick in the air. The Cleric Scanned the nearby swamp to make sure they were alone. Atop the cliff-side town he saw an enormous chunk sheared of the mountain were the bar used to be. He looked at The Adventurer sadly, realizing what it was that blocks were for.
"The Obsidian, its-"
"To help me stop them." The Adventurer quickly replied.
"Lets get started." They walked back over to the Purple statue and began carving away at it. Soon there was only a patch of grey dirt were it once stood and a lone purple obsidian to remind them were it was.
"So were to now?"
"A long time ago, there was someone called Steve. He open'd the gate and sent him back. We must build a portal were he was buried and then it will show us the way."
The two began walking back to the village, once there they gathered all the equipment they could and took of. This story was starting.
Hey, wana help Wright the rest? Send me a message with ideas.
Part One - Cold milk.
In a part of minecraft sits a town. A town that sits atop a cliff that overlooks a vast amount of swamp, sand and sea. This land and it's town have existed ever since the breaking of the portals and before. Among them their is one boy, only just done with his learning's at the church who doe's not seek fame, adventure or wealth, he seeks knowledge. Allot of the others revel in the thought of learning what lies beyond their forest's and below their cliff but during his learning he became inspired by the ancient story of a massive war between the Pigmen and the Ender-cult, but the remainder of the story was lost centuries ago. He enters the local tavern with his usual garment of Blue robes tied together by a thin strip of red velvet. In his hand, like most others, he has a pickaxe representing his status. His was red, representing that he was an apprentice Cleric. The barkeep who had a wooden one, turned at his entrance. With few to no visitors he could easily attend to his tasks and meet his clientele. Most people of the town doubt the existence of other civilization. Just the odd survivor out in the wilderness. The barkeep handed him a bucket of milk and looked at it sorely.
"Milk?" The cleric looked at it disappointed.
"I cant get any booze for a while, it could be two..maybe three updates till another batch. sorry."
His face sank lower at the taste of the milk. It was warm, and almost had a lumpy feel to it as it went down his throat.
A large amount of whispering was heard about the town, this usually meant one of two things, someone had fallen of the cliff and he would be needed to perform a ritual of passing, or someone new had arrived. He hastened himself away from the unappetizing milk towards the exit door. As he approached it the door swung open, causing him to trip over his robe and landing on the feet of the antagonist of his stumbling. He looked up half expecting the head cleric to be their and asking what he was doing in a bar when such an incident had occurred, instead he saw an unfamiliar face. He was wrong about the death. The hand of this man reached out, stretching the mans lose fitting clothes of a simple light blue shirt, steel pants and hat.
"Sorry about the fella, you right?" the adventurer asked, The Cleric had no idea how to respond.
"Well here, have this snowball I made." he said pulling it out of a hind satchel. The Cleric took it with great discomfort. The coldest thing in their town was when it rained. He walked back to his seat and with no-where else to put it, placed the snow ball inside his milk. The Adventurer sat beside him and just stared for a moment at the empty bar shelves. The barkeep walked up and handed him a bucket of milk. It was the same yellowish lumpy texture. He sniffed it cringing his nose and eyebrows but still smiling as he pulled out a second snowball and placed it in his drink and slurped loudly, not realizing that all eyes were on him. The cleric looked down at his bucket and around the room as the eyes switched to him. He daringly took a large gulp of the drink and was so pleased by the lack of gag or foulness that seemed to penetrate his nose usually that he sculled the rest and placed it down with an overly satisfied "ahhhh"
the other three men who had buckets walked up to The adventurer and waited. The man smirked and raised a hand, almost simultaneously did the men then fall over and fake moaned in pain. He and The cleric smirked after which The Adventurer placed a snow ball in each bucket. Then men hobbled away satisfied with their lack of intelligence.
"Sure is a strange town you have here Cleric, am i right?" He said still thinking about the men and their charade.
The cleric handed his bucket to the Adventurer expectantly.
"That's one way to put it. So whats you're reason?" He said again expectantly.
"Reason for..."
"Reason for visiting Clifftop?"
"You may not have seen it, but about a miles way out there's a strange purple statue.
Cleric had seen it actually, once. An occasional trip that men like to take as a group and view it. He had gone to see the hunt but got caught in a history lesson from the Head Cleric.
"What off it?"
"Well, i heard of it and thought that if it were obsidian, then i could make a killing."
Obsidian he wondered about the same purple on the church, although it was one piece and represented the four plains. One of Grassy earth to represent the World, one of endersand to represent the end, one of netherock to represent the Netherworld and the purple one. He did not know of the purples meaning.
"Yes, i believe there's some on the church. But i see no use of it."
"Really." The adventurer said as he stood. "Goodnight Cleric, thanks for the chat." He said waking up the bar stairs towards the beds.
That night was not a peaceful one for The Cleric. The whole of is dream was of the statue in the swamp, but different. Flames stretched across it, silhouette and shadows fought and clashed. He woke inside the church to a scream that seemed to change as he became more conscious. He hurried outside to see the four blocks missing its purple. He knew immediately who it had been. He bolted over to the inn with his red pickaxe in hand. Furious he burst into the room and found only the note that was hastily written the night before.
"Dear Cleric, thanks for the heads up on the obsidian, you're friend, the Adventurer."
He knew where he was headed, the statue for more obsidian, but if any one else were to go, the Adventurer might notice and quicken. He knew that he would meet the man at the statue much faster and so quickly made a rough-sack of essentials and began off down the cliff.
Part One - Cold milk.
In a part of minecraft sits a town. A town that sits atop a cliff that overlooks a vast amount of swamp, sand and sea. This land and it's town have existed ever since the breaking of the portals and before. Among them their is one boy, only just done with his learning's at the church who doe's not seek fame, adventure or wealth, he seeks knowledge. Allot of the others revel in the thought of learning what lies beyond their forest's and below their cliff but during his learning he became inspired by the ancient story of a massive war between the Pigmen and the Ender-cult, but the remainder of the story was lost centuries ago. He enters the local tavern with his usual garment of Blue robes tied together by a thin strip of red velvet. In his hand, like most others, he has a pickaxe representing his status. His was red, representing that he was an apprentice Cleric. The barkeep who had a wooden one, turned at his entrance. With few to no visitors he could easily attend to his tasks and meet his clientele. Most people of the town doubt the existence of other civilization. Just the odd survivor out in the wilderness. The barkeep handed him a bucket of milk and looked at it sorely.
"Milk?" The cleric looked at it disappointed.
"I cant get any booze for a while, it could be two..maybe three updates till another batch. sorry."
His face sank lower at the taste of the milk. It was warm, and almost had a lumpy feel to it as it went down his throat.
A large amount of whispering was heard about the town, this usually meant one of two things, someone had fallen of the cliff and he would be needed to perform a ritual of passing, or someone new had arrived. He hastened himself away from the unappetizing milk towards the exit door. As he approached it the door swung open, causing him to trip over his robe and landing on the feet of the antagonist of his stumbling. He looked up half expecting the head cleric to be their and asking what he was doing in a bar when such an incident had occurred, instead he saw an unfamiliar face. He was wrong about the death. The hand of this man reached out, stretching the mans lose fitting clothes of a simple light blue shirt, steel pants and hat.
"Sorry about the fella, you right?" the adventurer asked, The Cleric had no idea how to respond.
"Well here, have this snowball I made." he said pulling it out of a hind satchel. The Cleric took it with great discomfort. The coldest thing in their town was when it rained. He walked back to his seat and with no-where else to put it, placed the snow ball inside his milk. The Adventurer sat beside him and just stared for a moment at the empty bar shelves. The barkeep walked up and handed him a bucket of milk. It was the same yellowish lumpy texture. He sniffed it cringing his nose and eyebrows but still smiling as he pulled out a second snowball and placed it in his drink and slurped loudly, not realizing that all eyes were on him. The cleric looked down at his bucket and around the room as the eyes switched to him. He daringly took a large gulp of the drink and was so pleased by the lack of gag or foulness that seemed to penetrate his nose usually that he sculled the rest and placed it down with an overly satisfied "ahhhh"
the other three men who had buckets walked up to The adventurer and waited. The man smirked and raised a hand, almost simultaneously did the men then fall over and fake moaned in pain. He and The cleric smirked after which The Adventurer placed a snow ball in each bucket. Then men hobbled away satisfied with their lack of intelligence.
"Sure is a strange town you have here Cleric, am i right?" He said still thinking about the men and their charade.
The cleric handed his bucket to the Adventurer expectantly.
"That's one way to put it. So whats you're reason?" He said again expectantly.
"Reason for..."
"Reason for visiting Clifftop?"
"You may not have seen it, but about a miles way out there's a strange purple statue.
Cleric had seen it actually, once. An occasional trip that men like to take as a group and view it. He had gone to see the hunt but got caught in a history lesson from the Head Cleric.
"What off it?"
"Well, i heard of it and thought that if it were obsidian, then i could make a killing."
Obsidian he wondered about the same purple on the church, although it was one piece and represented the four plains. One of Grassy earth to represent the World, one of endersand to represent the end, one of netherock to represent the Netherworld and the purple one. He did not know of the purples meaning.
"Yes, i believe there's some on the church. But i see no use of it."
"Really." The adventurer said as he stood. "Goodnight Cleric, thanks for the chat." He said waking up the bar stairs towards the beds.
That night was not a peaceful one for The Cleric. The whole of is dream was of the statue in the swamp, but different. Flames stretched across it, silhouette and shadows fought and clashed. He woke inside the church to a scream that seemed to change as he became more conscious. He hurried outside to see the four blocks missing its purple. He knew immediately who it had been. He bolted over to the inn with his red pickaxe in hand. Furious he burst into the room and found only the note that was hastily written the night before.
"Dear Cleric, thanks for the heads up on the obsidian, you're friend, the Adventurer."
He knew where he was headed, the statue for more obsidian, but if any one else were to go, the Adventurer might notice and quicken. He knew that he would meet the man at the statue much faster and so quickly made a rough-sack of essentials and began off down the cliff.Part 2: Paranioa
The fresh air was a nice change. Usually the air was so thin and stuffy on top of the cliff that you could hardly breath. The further down he got the more he noticed it had changed since he had last been there. The swamp waters had lessened to puddles and the trees had grown higher, it was almost a forest, but it still carried the smell and was thick with fog. Cleric looked around slowly, half expecting to be attacked. His every move was filled with paranoia from the previous nights dream. In his head he kept thinking of worst case scenarios, like what if a skeleton had hid in the water were the fog was extra thick, just waiting for prey to stroll by uncaring, then it could lunge out at its foe and drag it back to the waters were it had hid. Along the way The Cleric continued to worry but only until hunger caught up with him. He pulled out some bread he had taken from the Farmer earlier and sat on the stump furthest from any water. Across the nearby lake he saw a little silverfish trapped on a leaf. He watched it scurry back and forth a bit franticly and thought how I must have fell from an adjacent tree. He contemplated going into the sludge for a bit, but this thought was cut short by the sight of three squid launching their tentacle's out of the water at the little silverfish, and dragging it to the dark sludge without a drop or splash. This caused The Cleric to lose his appetite and decided to continue through the swamp. His paranoia of every tree being a zombie standing with its arms stretched out quickly died when he decided to keep out his pickaxe. Even in the village were the most excitement was the occasional lose cow, he kept it out, he didn't really know why either.
"Okay, the statue should be past the next fog bank." He said allowed.
"Then I can catch up to that son of a ***** that took the purple block."
The further through the bank he got, the more tension he felt. He knew in his head that he would get there before The Adventurer, but he still felt the paranoia creeping up on him, just like how he now crept up to the statue. He finally reached it. A shudder fell down his spine when his eye's looked at its form. It was purple from the ground up. It shaped with one row going straight up and then four rows wavering up and branching out at the top. His shudder returned, this time going up his back.
"So you followed." Said The Adventure. "All for one block.
"One block that has no value to you." The Cleric said angrily, trying to keep his lip from shaking or changing his voice.
"Wrong, it can do more than you simpletons know." He said profoundly.
"Actually, that block is NOT obsidian."
"How do you..."
"I asked the head Cleric. That piece you have is just Stone painted purple. The statue on the other hand is. But this time, I stop you!" He said and lunged at him with his red pickaxe.
The adventurer quickly side stepped the uncoordinated attack and threw an axe past the head of Cleric.
"Back off kid, I need the statue." The Adventure puffed. "There's allot going on.
"No, I need that piece back, and you don't deserve the statue."
"Look, without the statue pieces I cant-" he was cut off by the sound of explosion. The fog was forced away from the area by wind. Atop the cliff, fire fell to the ground.
"What the cra-" thunder struck down on the earth near them and from the smoke men with pig faces and missing chunks of flesh stood.
"Get to the town, NOW!" The Adventurer order'd while throwing steel axes at the heads of the Pigmen.
A shadow rushed over their heads making them slow for only a second. A black dragon flew towards the cliff. Landing just on the ledge and breathed a white flame across the village. Men and woman fled if lucky, some caught flame through falling walls and turned to ash. The Adventurer shoved The cleric into the nearby lake were the silverfish had been take and began digging three blocks down, then two to the side. They his by the light of a torch and waited for the sound of fire and destruction, and the smell of rotten flesh tearing burnt flesh apart with wooden swords.
The Cleric Held back the urge to run outside. The town had fallen.
http://www.minecraftforum.net/topic/973658-clerics-tale-sub-forum/
And from the hole they emerged later on. The smell of ash thick in the air. The Cleric Scanned the nearby swamp to make sure they were alone. Atop the cliff-side town he saw an enormous chunk sheared of the mountain were the bar used to be. He looked at The Adventurer sadly, realizing what it was that blocks were for.
"The Obsidian, its-"
"To help me stop them." The Adventurer quickly replied.
"Lets get started." They walked back over to the Purple statue and began carving away at it. Soon there was only a patch of grey dirt were it once stood and a lone purple obsidian to remind them were it was.
"So were to now?"
"A long time ago, there was someone called Steve. He open'd the gate and sent him back. We must build a portal were he was buried and then it will show us the way."
The two began walking back to the village, once there they gathered all the equipment they could and took of. This story was starting.
Hey, wana help Wright the rest? Send me a message with ideas.
http://www.minecraftforum.net/topic/973658-clerics-tale-sub-forum/
Like my ducks?
http://www.minecraftforum.net/topic/973658-clerics-tale-sub-forum/