Hello, and welcome to the tale about quests, villains and beaurocratic debacles. I am MadScientist, your generous host. Worship me, NAOW!
Also, please note that Herobrine does not exist. AND NEVER WILL EXIST. AND NEVER HAS.
Factions in "Back to the Cavegame"
The Notchly Department:
The Notchly Department is the secret beaurocratic administrative body of Minecraftia, under the leadership of ???. The Notchly Department for Epic Quests Ages 11-21 is a subsection of this administrative body that distributes quests all over Minecraftia. Sir Fertig is employed here.
Character applications and things that must be noted in connection with that
Once you apply a character, I, and only I decide if it gets accepted. To accept a character, he must fit in this story, the application must be written with a minimal amount of grammar (punctuation and not-1337speak), and I must like him. Once the character gets accepted, I can let him die by the purple flu if I want to, you loose all rights fir that character. You may suggest what he does, but it is ultimately me that writes this story, understood? Furthermore, I reserve the right to cap character applications if the characters reach an unset limit (my decision) or if people whine about me not accepting characters. Understood? Thank you.
Name:
Age:
Appearance: (must be written in a way that I can picture him before my eyes. He wears a green shirt does not suffice. Is it grassgreen, are there any damaged parts, is there something depicted on the shirt)
Bio: (please write as exact as you can)
Profession: (what does he do)
Gear: (may be anything from a minigun that shoots purple ten-ton hippos (will not be accepted, I don't want assault rifles and the likes) to an ordinary sword.)
Moral orientation: Good or Evil or Neutral (neutral characters will help both sides/ be not helpful to both sides. A neutral character should have a reason to be neutral, he should be a Han Solo so to speak.)
Other:
Legal things
Minecraft is property of Mojang AB
I do not own Minecraft, although I claim ownership of this fanfiction and all characters in it.
This story isn't affiliated with Back to the Future in the slightest.
Have a good day.
Now, here comes the story, but first a quote for no reason: "Beaurocracy fixes problems beaurocracy caused." (I do not have negative feelings towards beaurocracy).
BACK TO THE CAVEGAME
Chapter 1: In which weirdness happens and I forget to write a prologue.
The forest was dark. The branches and twigs of the many, many trees intertwined, creating a roof that blocked out even the small amount of light the stars and the moon may have provided. I could hear the zombies groan in the distance, thankfully. There would be zombies no matter what, so hearing them would give me an advantage, if they did find me.
I suffer from somnambulia. You know it probably better under the name sleepwalking. I actually am a very heavy case, I once ended up 500 metres away from my house.
But this forest, I have never seen. I could be anywhere, from the farlands up to my house. I had no idea how I should find back.
Crap.
Then I turned around, and things escalated. Behind me was an Enderman. A prime-example of an Enderman. Three and a half metres tall, skin like obsidian, so slender, he could have fit through my room's window (which is really quite small), these creepy overly long limbs, the feets that ended in tips, the hands with the three claws, with edges that outmatched that of a razor. The mouth with these unnaturaly sharp teeth, needles moreso, that looked like a wound rather than something a living being would have. But the scariest were those unnerving, bleak, purple eyes. They knew things humans shouldn't see, and had this cruel, unorganic glimmer in it. The worst is that they try to kill you once look at them.
You probably expect me to have an epic battle to the death with this dark reaper of the night, this harbinger of the void, this ambassador of bad stuff and yadda yadda. I didn't though, which people may view as a tragic mishappening of fate, that these sharp claws would probably tear my insides out. Which did not happen, otherwise I wouldn't be telling you this. That was for various reasons, valid and logical reasons I assure you. Maybe not logical. The first was, that I am about 14 years and a couple months old and didn't have anything resembling a weapon in the slightest, and the second, that this Enderman didn't mind being stared at. How did I know?
He was wearing a snow white tuxedo with a bright red scarf. A tuxedo, for Notchs sake. A snow white tuxedo, fitting pants, a monocle in the left eye, no shoes and a ridiculously big white topper with a crimson hatband. This Enderman dressed up especially for being stared at. Did I mention he was sipping tea out of a porcellain cup, decorated with flowers? Leaning against a tree? Not to forget the overlengthy iron scythe that he apparently used as a walking cane. All in all, extraordinary.
And then he spoke:" Why are you staring at me? Do I have a slime in my face?"
I didn't know what I expected, a deep growl, a sinister whisper, but definitely not this refined british accent and smooth baritone.
"Now what is that scared face there? I don't bite!" His voice sounded calming.
Nonetheless, I was shivering from fear.
"But are you not an Enderman, a harbinger of the endless void and-"
"Cut that garbage!" He interrupted me.
"I am no harbinger of nothing. After all, I am Sir Fertig. The only suit-wearing, tea-sipping and timetravelling Enderman in the darn universe! That should count for something I believe."
Timetravel?
"Can you really, uh, "jump" through time?" I wanted to know.
"Of course! It is easy. You just wait till you get older. BAM! Timetravel!" He nearly killed himself laughing over his mediocre joke.
Naturally, I put on my Not-amused face. My Not-amused face was quite ordinary, like so many other Not-amused faces people put on everyday. It was nothing fancy, but it did the job, and it did it good.
Sir Fertig frowned:"You seem not amused."
"Oh really?"
"That shall be fixed!!! With another joke!"
"Please kill me now, Notch."
Fertig seemed sad. "You are unfriendly. I will cry now." And so he did, purple tears.
Of course I couldn't let him just there, so I apologized:"I am so-"
"I TRICKED YOU!!! HAHAHAHAAA YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES! DÜMMY!!!1!" Sir Fertig was going down my I-respect-you-scary-individual scale rapidly, and now I was near crying, because of the absurdness.
"You are below me, and so is your humor. I am outta here."
I turned to leave.
"Please don't depart. I am sorry, I will troll you nevermore."
"Too late."
"I implore you. If you go, I will be fired." He was crawling through the grass, grasping my ankle.
"I. Hate. My. Life." I sighed, and asked what this had to do with his job.
Sir Fertig seemed re-energized immediately. He shot into his standing position and buried me under an avalanche of way too fast spoken words.
"Good question. I am employed at the Notchly Department for Epic Quests, age 11-21. You wished for an epic quest at your birthday. Today is your birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" He squealed in delight. If he would clap his hands, it would be perfect.
There was just an ever so slight problem: I didn't wish for an epic quest.
The Enderman shook his head in a reproachful way.
"Of course you did. I noticed myself. You clearly wished for an epic quest!"
"I did not. I wished for the epic adventures of St. Que. The novel."
"Close enough. Every boy wants an epic quest, right?"
"I don't. Questers usually die or get nearly killed, whilst experiencing severe agony. Something I don't want to pay emeralds for."
I read enough books. I know my quest stuff, so don't look at me like I am a chicken, yes?
"Our service is free."
"A bucket of water in your face is free too."
Sir Fertig let out an earthshattering laugh. "My dear customer, a deal with a bunch of eldritch gods that costed me the sight of my left eye, which is also the reason you may call me Odin of Minecraftia, made me absolutely immune to liquids. Very practical for drinking tea. Luckily -" his head bowed down to my ear, and he continued his sentence in a more silent manner."I found a way to trick them. This monocle is actually an implant that acts as an eye replacement. But don't tell them. They might resurrect my former employer, Sarro Hien Elvestevesz Bre, more known as Elvestevesz, whom I accidentally dropped a ceiling onto. Do you want to know under which name he was even more known?"
I did not.
Fertig made a sad grimace. "But surely you would like to know about your epic quest?!"
Slowly but surely, this was infuriating me:" I don't know what kind of netherwarts you ate, but even with that you should be able to recognize a simple ******* NO!" I believed that now only swearing would prove my point. Nope.
Apparently that should have done something, atleast, that was what I could hear from the annoyed "Darn, the console is off".
"As you wish, boyo, but remember, I WILL kill your pet zombified dog if you do not want to conform to the rules of our service! Which include it being a must to be fullfilled if the universe shall not be destroyed by an armor wearing villain that may or may not open rifts to destroy the universe and it not being refundable. The latter of the rules I do not understand, for we are not taking payment.""Highly peculiar. I should do research on that." He scratched his chin.
I raised my brows in amused confusion.
"Are you sure you aren't mental?"
Fertig was baffled. It took about ten seconds until he found his voice again, only to let out a very sure "I AM, DÜMMY" shout. Just. My. Luck.
"So" he asked,"any questions?"
"What is a console?"
"A stuff you mustn't know" he replied with his so ever posh accent.
Why do they always say mustn't? I think about mustard then and get hungry.
The Enderman swiftly fished a small book out of a pocket in his jacket. How did a whole book fit in it? It was a very big pocket, and a very tiny book. He then flew through the pages until he found what he was searching for:
"Dear customer, you have been chosen to be given a quest by the Notchly Department for Epic Quests Ages 11-21™. We are the best sorted (and only) quest-gifters in all of Minecraftia. Our assortment is highly customizable, you can, for example, choose to fight your after your exact psychogram -"
"What is a psychogram?"
"I don't know. Although yours would probably contain the word uneducated."
I know his would then contain the word hypocrite.
"Your after your psychogram created villain" he continued "on a volcano, deep under the sea or high up in the air. You may also choose the weather conditions (we recommend meteor showers for authenticy), or to fight with blade or arcane spells. We hope you enjoy the narration/lore our highly trained and not at all demented and/or mentally ill personnell will provide. And happy questing!
The Notchly Department for Epic Quests Ages 11-21™ and affilliated Logos such as The Notchly Department for Epic Quests Ages 11-21® are property of the Notchly Department. All rights reserved. We are not responsible for eventual loss of limbs, traumatic experiences such as causing new phobias of various words, elements and animals, smiting, possible infections and painful death."
I felt a bit cold.
"You are in knowledge of the fact that the whole we-are-not-responsible-for-death-thingamajig does its best to make me the opposite of eager to go on this quest?"
"I am not and am not willing to acquire it. And if you do die, do it in silence, yes?" He nodded his head in approval.
"I am just going to assume you agreed with me, so I can say thats the spirit. Thats the spirit!"
What was I doing here, why was I not in my bed? Why didn't I think of locking my door? Why? Because it would have spared me a lot of trouble.
"Don't I need a sword or something?"
Fertig facepalmed.
"Thank you kind person for reminding me. Exterminatus!" He clapped his hands and everything went dark. The last thing I heard was that Sir Fertig mumbled something about wrong words and death curses.
Chapter 2: In which our hero apparently died and got clonesurrected.
Darkness. The endless black pitch. Then a voice. A british accent. A light. I was swimming through water. Icecold water. It froze me from the inside out. I couldn't move, was sinking. Airbubbles were flowing up from my mouth."No", a voice shouted in my head, "swim up.". So I fought myself the way back to the surface, and then, then I awoke.
And looked right into the face of a grinning Sir Fertig, which is a creepy sight indeed.
"Iiiieeh!" I screamed.
"You sound like a three year old girl.", he noted headshaking.
"I did not. And where am I, may I ask you?"
Fertig smiled. "This", he exclaimed proudly as he turned around himself, arms outstretched, " this is the Ma.Trix."
I was confused to say the least. I seemed to have been laying on a white floor in a seemingly infinitely wide and tall room. I could only assume that the ceiling and the walls were also colored white. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. I didn't know where the light came from.
"The Matrix, so so. And where is this so called Matrix?"
"It is called Ma.Trix., dummy" chided the Enderman, "or with its proper name, Magical Trix and simulation room of the Notchly Department, and is situated in a pocket universe which is situated in my pocket. Understood?"
"Barely not. Rather no. Is it important that I do?" was my disinterested answer.
He shrugged. "Not really."
"How did I come here anyways?"
"Oh", responded Fertig dangerously cheerfully," I accidentally killed you and then cloned you with foul magic, and your life-force is only bound temporarily to your body now except in this dimension and if I would want you to serve me some plates with lobster ragout you would serve me because you are now technically a zombie but I am not cruel, so I will only use this to force you to go on a dangerous quest. Which is probably deadly. Actually, this quest is rated impossible, which means that if you succeed you will be granted immortality which is what you need right now. Great, isn't it?"
That was, in no way at all, great. Not. At. All. Nada. Niente. Nope.
"Are you serious? You killed me? YOU KILLED ME?!!!??" I have never been angrier than now in my hole entire life. This madenderman or however one would call that just walks up to me and kills me out of accident! When I still had a lot if years to live a happy life, I wasn't even finished with school, and I didn't sit through all these hours just to now DIE.
"Yes", he said aghast," please try not to spit."
But because saying don't to a 14 year old boy that has just been killed by an idiot through his idiocy is the perfect way to make this 14 year old boy do the things he shouldn't, I spat. In his tea.
"Great" was his remark," now it is spoiled! Have you atleast calmed down enough?" He threw away his cup.
"So, to go on this quest, you need gear! Me dona!"
Nothing happened.
"Me dona!" Said Fertig, more energetic this time.
"It isn't doing anything." There was still only the whiteness of this extremely large room.
Fertig had seemingly chosen to ignore me.
"/create physical GUI questgear" he commanded.
Suddenly, a large shelve with all weapons you could imagine plus a bit more appeared in midair, where it stayed floating.
"The realtime latin commands plugin is still buggy."
"May I know what a command is?"
"You mustn't."
"I want mustard. So, what did you summon this impressive array of killing tools for?"
Fertig regarded me with a gaze like I was a total imbecile:"To equip you for helping you survive this quest, of course?"
"Do you have radishes in your ears? I will not go on no quest."
"Then be mine guest forever, for in thy first day on Minecraftia after your death thou shall speak in the tongue of thy arthropods, thy second day thou shall speak in thy tongue of thy creatures of thy Nexus Nether, thy third day in thy tongue of thy undead, the fourth in thy tongue of thy scaled stalkers, thy fith day in thy tongue of thy ghosts of decay, thy sixth day in thy tongue of thy dragons, and on thy end of thy seventh, thou shalt roam the earth forever as an unliving thing, no more a human, but a shadow if thyself. You could say as an Enderman. I don't know why it is a punishment though, I like being me."
That was quite the monologue, but I did not understand what the hell he was talking about.
"I am talking about the fact that you will slowly turn into an Enderman and be stuck in that form. Which should give you pain without relent, for human minds can't handle the dimensional planes an Enderman exists on. Or you stay here in this pocket dimension forever. Your choice only!"
Suddenly, the cheerful smile of Sir Fertig was triumphant, even a bit sinister.
"This accident is really convenient for you, is it not?"
"Oh my, the amount of vitriol in your voice could melt bedrock! But yes, I can't deny that your sudden death is an overly tragic event for my cause. Which is to save the multiverse from utter destruction, so if you had guts you would help me anyways."
"I hate you." With these words I threw myself at him. He evaporated in a puff of violet smoke and I landed hard on the white floor. My jaws crunched together and my teeth hurt. Red dots danced over my vision. I forced myself to stand up. Then I examined the shelf with the weapons.
"There is no use to that. You won't even touch me. Now, let us look at the problem with reason! You are going to die permanently after 7 days. If you go on this quest and complete it, The Notchly Department for Epic Quests will fix this. It is a win-win."
"Or you could give my life back now. There is no real danger anyways, am I right?"
Fertig sighed." Usually, the quests are simulated. But not this one. This one is not. How should I explain this." He searched for words.
"The Notchly Department is more like a security. The quest-giving is just something that we do out of, passion you could say. Now, there is a prophecy-"
"Keep away with prophecies." I demanded.
"There is a prophecy that says that the living dead who is not born in the year must travel to the gate of Altropius and travel back to the Cave Game. So, I have done research about you. You were born on the 31th of February, a day that will never ever happen again, and you are a zombie, technically. You fulfill the prophecies description of the valiant hero."
I did not feel valiant nor heroic.
"What is the Cave Game, what does this have to do with me and who is Altropius?"
"Questions, questions, questions. These will be answered soon enough. But one thing before I bid you farewell. Here." He gave me a dented sword with a dull blade. This is Smite. Speak [reason],and whoever is guilty will be struck by lightning and banished into the void where he or his soul shall never return. And be good to Mr. William."
"Wait, a second?! Mr. William-"
Fertig clapped his hands, and the white room faded away, to make place for a forest. It was nothing alike the forest I awoke in. This forest was filled with light, and animals and it was day and tgere were no zombies. And a saddled pig. It grunted. It had a name-tag around his neck. I assumed it to be Mr. William.
"A pig." Mr. William grunted, obviously pleased to meet me.
"A pig." I said again. "My steed is a pig. Great. Now my artist name shall be Sir Porky from the Pigforest." I had this sudden urge to laugh maniacally, but a high pitched scream interrupted me:"Heeeeeelp, a smelly dead thing wants to eat me!"
Chapter 3: The Undead rises and a five year old testificate saves me from certain doom.
I sprinted into the direction the scream came from. Mr. William sprinted in the opposite direction, as soon as he saw the zombie.
"Real nice buddy."
I couldn't blame him though. The zombie was really yucky and scary.
Its one eye that it hadn't lost to decay was hanging out of its skull, which only a third was covered in skin. Its flesh had a brown tone, like beef jerky, and its blood was a dark rotten green. There were only bones left from its right hand, and its left had no thumb. It wore a torn chainmail shirt with a lot of holes in it that was covered in the same goo of rot and blood that was its face. Its feet were stumps, the color of its trousers was grey, but not from fabrication than moreso from the clay that clung to it. And the smell. I can't describe it really, you must have smelled a zombie to understand how bad it is. Foul eggs, old fish, it was the scent of putrefaction. Every other while it let out a degenerate, hungry growl that was twisted by his decomposed throat into a wet, sickening noise.
It was trying to climb a thick old tall oak with a wide protruding crown. I almost felt sorry for this pitiful creature, until I saw the 5 year old girl it was trying to eat. She was sitting on a branch that would be just out of the undead's reach if it could stand up. She had a muddy torn skirt that was white under the dirt and grass stains and an evenly muddy red shirt. Her face was cute but dominated by an absurdly big nose. She had to be a testificate. Her eyes were green, like all of their people, but there was a spark in them that I had never seen before in one of them. Which wasn't often, to be honest. I had only visited twice a testificate village, and that was in school, so my mind hadn't been focused exactly. Like not. But now all I saw was a five year old girl that was in danger of being eaten by a zombie. I did the sensible thing.
"FOR GREAT JUSTICE!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, charging with Smite drawn over my head. My feet flew over the ground. And then I stumbled over a root and fell on my face for the second time this day.
The zombie turned around and opened its mouth. It was filled with black teeth.
It slowly started crawling towards me, and I had the impression that it grinned. It was a knowing grin, knowingful of its victory it was. I was its next meal, and nothing would change that. I frantically tried to stand up but my head was filled with hammers ringing on anvils and the world was spinning around me. I searched for my sword, but it lay behind the zombie, out of my reach.
The Zombie reached for me with his skeletal hand. In return, I squashed his eyeball with my foot. I expected it now to wail and growl in pain, but the loss of his left eye had as much impact on him as a mosquito on steel.
It arounded himself and again clawed for my face. I gripped his arms and tried to hold it away from me. Then they both broke off and fat worms and maggots fell on my shirt. They were white and squishy and they squirmed and wiggled and squiggled, deprived from their feast as they were. Blank horror overcame me. I tried to swish the parasites away. The zombie crawled onto me. He opened his mouth to take a big nice bite of fresh meat. And then a sword split his head right in half.
"I saved your life. Now you must serve me!" the five year old girl ordained. Of course, I heavily protested, because not only did I run to her rescue in the first place, but I am also in no way going to be a five year olds servant.
"Sorry, but no matter how much you rescue me from certain doom, I will not read you bedtime stories or the like and be commanded by a small child."
She held the tip of Smite under my chin:" Who has the sword here?"
That was an argument. Still I disagreed:" Even if you had a lightning bolt, you don't have the guts to use this sword on a person."
She made an angry face:"I killed more growlers than I have fingers and toes."
"Those aren't people."
"Yes they are!" She shouted with trutz. "Yes they are!"
She raised the blade again.
"Now come with me or I poke you!"
"Hah. You can barely hold this sword and I am 9 years older than you." I remarked derogatory.
"Shut and stand up." she commanded.
And so I did.
"Good jimmy!" she praised me.
That confused me.
"My name is not Jimmy!"
The girl didn't seem to care much.
"Be quiet you jimmy!"
"I already told you that my name is not Jimmy!"
We began walking in a direction I deemed to be south. In the meantime, Mr. William had returned.
"I needed you over there, piggy. Where were you?"
The pig grunted playfully.
"Is that your pig, you jimmy?" asked the little testificate intrigued.
"My name is not @&/;$£# Jimmy."
"Then what is it?"
I immediately saw my chance.
"I am Sir Porky of the Pigforest, and this is Mr. William, my mighty steed!"
I exclaimed with pride.
The small girl scratched her head.
"He is a pig."
"He is a fearstriking boar! Wild and savage and blood-addicted."
As I was saying that, Mr. William began chasing a butterfly around in circles.
"He doesn't seem very boarlike. Do you think I can pet him?"
"Yeah" I sighed discouraged," go ahead."
Mr. William licked the girls face.
"Anyway, my point is that I am a valiant knight that came to the rescue and now you treat me like your slave. I must ask you why!"
"That is the way the rules work. You are a knight, you should know them."
"Well, I do not, apparently."
"My mummy used to tell me the old legends of Minecraft. About Notch, the first human and his friend Steve and Steve's shadow Herobrine, and how the evil people of the darkspires were punished because they were His servants, about the river of ghast tears that flows in the Nexus Nether where the souls of the dead must cross the border, about The High King Altropius that burned because he tried to tame the fiery lands of the Nexus Nether and take back his queen and-"
"Wait a second!" I shouted.
"And the point is that in the legends, if someone has his life saved then he must serve his savior. Case closed."
"No" I retorted, "you said something about Altropius. I was actually on my way to the gates of Altropius when I had the unpleasant honor of trying to save you."
"Well, mummy never told me about some door."
"Maybe she knows someone who has a map with that location marked on it."
"She won't." snapped the small girl.
"Well, then maybe your daddy?"
"They won't tell you anything. They, they, they don't like me."
"Ah. You ran away? May I ask why?"
"Just. Be. Quiet." She growled through clenched teeth.
"So, could you kindly bring me to someone who knows where these gates are? Because I have about one week until I die a second time. It was a quite unpleasant sensation."
She just stared at me, like I had emerged from lava.
"Undeath." She whispered.
"Excuse me?"
"You know what?" She said with false enthusiasm, "I do remember someone who knows anything. Now let me sit on your steed and you walk!" And she waved the rusty and way too heavy sword at my face.
Okay. Sudden change of mood? Lucky turning? I hoped for it. Because, I had this distinct feeling that she somehow was exploiting me. And nothing is as evil as a five year old person outsmarting you.
Chapter 4: In which I walk and find out nobody cares about me.
It was about 4 o' clock pm, the sun was descending from its midday throne, and the moon would soon rule the sky. We had been riding for about 5 hours. Well, "she" had been riding, I had to walk the whole time. Why do these things never happen to the people that deserve that kind of treatment instead of a 14 year old boy who never even fathomed something like this? Maybe I had been a naughty child and santa had thought of something new? Whatever the case, I hated it. That is still not counting the nonstop comments and questions from "her". I still refuse to tell you her real name, mainly because I still want to write a lot of "'s. But then, if you want so: her names is Myna, she is indeed 5 years and 7 months old, she likes poking cows with sharp sticks and climbing onto trees to drop small stones on people she seems unfit to exist without a massive headache, be it for petty revenge, pure "I-do-what-I-must-because-I-can" logic or just by a very vile destiny and accident. And she likes burning things, too.
Great. I am travelling with a psychopathic, pyromanic and sadistic 5 year old girl, and she has the sword (and the right to tell me how much I suck). I ask you again: why does this happen to me? Quantum science, reasons, killer bunnies from space? Nope. A very certain Enderman in a suit. And his oversized topperyness was standing right infront of me right now, just suddenly materializing and giving me a heart attack, aswell as causing several questions a la "Is this the grim reaper that has come to take away Mr. William?". Oh, how I would love to close my hands around that slender throat and squeeze until his eyes popped out.
Please refrain from calling me a hypocrite. I did indeed just judge Myna, and basically in the same breath, admitted my wish for brutally slaughtering Sir Fertig. Just let it go. By doing that, you take away from the epic story. And you will probably miss the Zombie Ninja Mechas. I don't know how they fit into here, but I will make it work. Promise.
Anyhow.
I expressed my anger in an appropriate manner.
"So, you dare show up again? Could you make yourself a bit useful for once and get my sword back from this pest?"
Fertig looked back and forth between me and Myna.
He did not really believe what he saw.
"Look, I have probably napped away, but in case that this is real, you my friend, are a moron. I gave you a magical sword and a fierce steed! And you loose it to the first bandit that crosses your way!"
He turned to Myna:"So, you are a bit puny for a bandit. Did you summon a giant skeleton with four arms and explosive arrows or something along those lines? Because if you didn't, then he really deserves getting robbed, or you are a demon. And because I apparently am classed as a demon, which I don't understand because I am friendly and stuff, I can see that you are not. Which means our friend is an idiot."
"Hey!"
That was me.
Myna hopped off Mr. Williams back.
"It was really easy. He fell on his nose. And then I saved him from a zombie." she said casually, like she did that for a warm-up for her day that included evil-god slaying.
"Whatever." answered Fertig,"I am just here to supervise. Carry on!"
"So, you are coming with us?" I asked, hoping the contrary would be the case.
"Indeed. But act like I didn't exist."
That wouldn't be particularly hard for me.
I turned to Myna:"So, your pettyness, how far is this person that knows so much?"
"Actually, he lives just behind the hill where you found me, but I have lead you around in a big circle so I could ride longer."
That was mandatory, of course. Just keep making me angry. It is allright. I can take that. Apparently.
And onwards we went. Me at the front, Myna in the middle and Sir Fertig last. He did his best so we couldn't ignore him, admiring every single square metre of grass, praising all the trees in the forest for asthetical superiority and all that other crap. The landscape was gorgeous, I must admit in retrospect, but at that time my vision was shrouded by a big cloud of violent thoughts and good ol' rage.
"So, Sir Moron, you ruin peoples day often?" I asked with appropriate acid-dripping speech.
"Or have you even considered informing my parents about my untimely demise?"
Sir Fertig finished examining a rose petal and exploded into purple before re-materializing right behind me.
"Only on mondays, Jimmy, only on mondays. And about your question, I have deleted every memory that your parents have of you, and given them a bonsai instead to take care of. So they won't miss you if you die, far far away without friends and in agony and probably very stupidly. I am great at handling social stuff, am I not?"
There is only so much weirdness a mind can take. This border had just been nuked down into the Void. It was almost comical. I just slumped my shoulders in resignment and continued walking, as if walking would bring me back to my warm fluffy bed, my pillow and my room. My lovely room, where I would wake up at a lovely summer morning and spend a lovely day at my lovely school... Yes, I am that desperate.
"You seem depressed?!"
Sir Fertig blurted out.
"Just leave me alone."
I responded reluctantly.
"And my name is not @))€(636&€*#>£#} Jimmy."
i am now reading the chapter 2 of your story. i loved everything so far. Mr. fertig seems to be a nice and funny character, i didn't know Endermen could be so interesting like him haha
great job
Also, please note that Herobrine does not exist. AND NEVER WILL EXIST. AND NEVER HAS.
Factions in "Back to the Cavegame"
The Notchly Department:
The Notchly Department is the secret beaurocratic administrative body of Minecraftia, under the leadership of ???. The Notchly Department for Epic Quests Ages 11-21 is a subsection of this administrative body that distributes quests all over Minecraftia. Sir Fertig is employed here.
Character applications and things that must be noted in connection with that
Once you apply a character, I, and only I decide if it gets accepted. To accept a character, he must fit in this story, the application must be written with a minimal amount of grammar (punctuation and not-1337speak), and I must like him. Once the character gets accepted, I can let him die by the purple flu if I want to, you loose all rights fir that character. You may suggest what he does, but it is ultimately me that writes this story, understood? Furthermore, I reserve the right to cap character applications if the characters reach an unset limit (my decision) or if people whine about me not accepting characters. Understood? Thank you.
Name:
Age:
Appearance: (must be written in a way that I can picture him before my eyes. He wears a green shirt does not suffice. Is it grassgreen, are there any damaged parts, is there something depicted on the shirt)
Bio: (please write as exact as you can)
Profession: (what does he do)
Gear: (may be anything from a minigun that shoots purple ten-ton hippos (will not be accepted, I don't want assault rifles and the likes) to an ordinary sword.)
Moral orientation: Good or Evil or Neutral (neutral characters will help both sides/ be not helpful to both sides. A neutral character should have a reason to be neutral, he should be a Han Solo so to speak.)
Other:
Legal things
Minecraft is property of Mojang AB
I do not own Minecraft, although I claim ownership of this fanfiction and all characters in it.
This story isn't affiliated with Back to the Future in the slightest.
Have a good day.
Now, here comes the story, but first a quote for no reason: "Beaurocracy fixes problems beaurocracy caused." (I do not have negative feelings towards beaurocracy).
BACK TO THE CAVEGAME
Chapter 1: In which weirdness happens and I forget to write a prologue.
The forest was dark. The branches and twigs of the many, many trees intertwined, creating a roof that blocked out even the small amount of light the stars and the moon may have provided. I could hear the zombies groan in the distance, thankfully. There would be zombies no matter what, so hearing them would give me an advantage, if they did find me.
I suffer from somnambulia. You know it probably better under the name sleepwalking. I actually am a very heavy case, I once ended up 500 metres away from my house.
But this forest, I have never seen. I could be anywhere, from the farlands up to my house. I had no idea how I should find back.
Crap.
Then I turned around, and things escalated. Behind me was an Enderman. A prime-example of an Enderman. Three and a half metres tall, skin like obsidian, so slender, he could have fit through my room's window (which is really quite small), these creepy overly long limbs, the feets that ended in tips, the hands with the three claws, with edges that outmatched that of a razor. The mouth with these unnaturaly sharp teeth, needles moreso, that looked like a wound rather than something a living being would have. But the scariest were those unnerving, bleak, purple eyes. They knew things humans shouldn't see, and had this cruel, unorganic glimmer in it. The worst is that they try to kill you once look at them.
You probably expect me to have an epic battle to the death with this dark reaper of the night, this harbinger of the void, this ambassador of bad stuff and yadda yadda. I didn't though, which people may view as a tragic mishappening of fate, that these sharp claws would probably tear my insides out. Which did not happen, otherwise I wouldn't be telling you this. That was for various reasons, valid and logical reasons I assure you. Maybe not logical. The first was, that I am about 14 years and a couple months old and didn't have anything resembling a weapon in the slightest, and the second, that this Enderman didn't mind being stared at. How did I know?
He was wearing a snow white tuxedo with a bright red scarf. A tuxedo, for Notchs sake. A snow white tuxedo, fitting pants, a monocle in the left eye, no shoes and a ridiculously big white topper with a crimson hatband. This Enderman dressed up especially for being stared at. Did I mention he was sipping tea out of a porcellain cup, decorated with flowers? Leaning against a tree? Not to forget the overlengthy iron scythe that he apparently used as a walking cane. All in all, extraordinary.
And then he spoke:" Why are you staring at me? Do I have a slime in my face?"
I didn't know what I expected, a deep growl, a sinister whisper, but definitely not this refined british accent and smooth baritone.
"Now what is that scared face there? I don't bite!" His voice sounded calming.
Nonetheless, I was shivering from fear.
"But are you not an Enderman, a harbinger of the endless void and-"
"Cut that garbage!" He interrupted me.
"I am no harbinger of nothing. After all, I am Sir Fertig. The only suit-wearing, tea-sipping and timetravelling Enderman in the darn universe! That should count for something I believe."
Timetravel?
"Can you really, uh, "jump" through time?" I wanted to know.
"Of course! It is easy. You just wait till you get older. BAM! Timetravel!" He nearly killed himself laughing over his mediocre joke.
Naturally, I put on my Not-amused face. My Not-amused face was quite ordinary, like so many other Not-amused faces people put on everyday. It was nothing fancy, but it did the job, and it did it good.
Sir Fertig frowned:"You seem not amused."
"Oh really?"
"That shall be fixed!!! With another joke!"
"Please kill me now, Notch."
Fertig seemed sad. "You are unfriendly. I will cry now." And so he did, purple tears.
Of course I couldn't let him just there, so I apologized:"I am so-"
"I TRICKED YOU!!! HAHAHAHAAA YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES! DÜMMY!!!1!" Sir Fertig was going down my I-respect-you-scary-individual scale rapidly, and now I was near crying, because of the absurdness.
"You are below me, and so is your humor. I am outta here."
I turned to leave.
"Please don't depart. I am sorry, I will troll you nevermore."
"Too late."
"I implore you. If you go, I will be fired." He was crawling through the grass, grasping my ankle.
"I. Hate. My. Life." I sighed, and asked what this had to do with his job.
Sir Fertig seemed re-energized immediately. He shot into his standing position and buried me under an avalanche of way too fast spoken words.
"Good question. I am employed at the Notchly Department for Epic Quests, age 11-21. You wished for an epic quest at your birthday. Today is your birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" He squealed in delight. If he would clap his hands, it would be perfect.
There was just an ever so slight problem: I didn't wish for an epic quest.
The Enderman shook his head in a reproachful way.
"Of course you did. I noticed myself. You clearly wished for an epic quest!"
"I did not. I wished for the epic adventures of St. Que. The novel."
"Close enough. Every boy wants an epic quest, right?"
"I don't. Questers usually die or get nearly killed, whilst experiencing severe agony. Something I don't want to pay emeralds for."
I read enough books. I know my quest stuff, so don't look at me like I am a chicken, yes?
"Our service is free."
"A bucket of water in your face is free too."
Sir Fertig let out an earthshattering laugh. "My dear customer, a deal with a bunch of eldritch gods that costed me the sight of my left eye, which is also the reason you may call me Odin of Minecraftia, made me absolutely immune to liquids. Very practical for drinking tea. Luckily -" his head bowed down to my ear, and he continued his sentence in a more silent manner."I found a way to trick them. This monocle is actually an implant that acts as an eye replacement. But don't tell them. They might resurrect my former employer, Sarro Hien Elvestevesz Bre, more known as Elvestevesz, whom I accidentally dropped a ceiling onto. Do you want to know under which name he was even more known?"
I did not.
Fertig made a sad grimace. "But surely you would like to know about your epic quest?!"
Slowly but surely, this was infuriating me:" I don't know what kind of netherwarts you ate, but even with that you should be able to recognize a simple ******* NO!" I believed that now only swearing would prove my point. Nope.
"/start stackcommand, /cuelightning, /booming voice, /execute stackcommand!"
Apparently that should have done something, atleast, that was what I could hear from the annoyed "Darn, the console is off".
"As you wish, boyo, but remember, I WILL kill your pet zombified dog if you do not want to conform to the rules of our service! Which include it being a must to be fullfilled if the universe shall not be destroyed by an armor wearing villain that may or may not open rifts to destroy the universe and it not being refundable. The latter of the rules I do not understand, for we are not taking payment.""Highly peculiar. I should do research on that." He scratched his chin.
I raised my brows in amused confusion.
"Are you sure you aren't mental?"
Fertig was baffled. It took about ten seconds until he found his voice again, only to let out a very sure "I AM, DÜMMY" shout. Just. My. Luck.
"So" he asked,"any questions?"
"What is a console?"
"A stuff you mustn't know" he replied with his so ever posh accent.
Why do they always say mustn't? I think about mustard then and get hungry.
The Enderman swiftly fished a small book out of a pocket in his jacket. How did a whole book fit in it? It was a very big pocket, and a very tiny book. He then flew through the pages until he found what he was searching for:
"Dear customer, you have been chosen to be given a quest by the Notchly Department for Epic Quests Ages 11-21™. We are the best sorted (and only) quest-gifters in all of Minecraftia. Our assortment is highly customizable, you can, for example, choose to fight your after your exact psychogram -"
"What is a psychogram?"
"I don't know. Although yours would probably contain the word uneducated."
I know his would then contain the word hypocrite.
"Your after your psychogram created villain" he continued "on a volcano, deep under the sea or high up in the air. You may also choose the weather conditions (we recommend meteor showers for authenticy), or to fight with blade or arcane spells. We hope you enjoy the narration/lore our highly trained and not at all demented and/or mentally ill personnell will provide. And happy questing!
The Notchly Department for Epic Quests Ages 11-21™ and affilliated Logos such as The Notchly Department for Epic Quests Ages 11-21® are property of the Notchly Department. All rights reserved. We are not responsible for eventual loss of limbs, traumatic experiences such as causing new phobias of various words, elements and animals, smiting, possible infections and painful death."
I felt a bit cold.
"You are in knowledge of the fact that the whole we-are-not-responsible-for-death-thingamajig does its best to make me the opposite of eager to go on this quest?"
"I am not and am not willing to acquire it. And if you do die, do it in silence, yes?" He nodded his head in approval.
"I am just going to assume you agreed with me, so I can say thats the spirit. Thats the spirit!"
What was I doing here, why was I not in my bed? Why didn't I think of locking my door? Why? Because it would have spared me a lot of trouble.
"Don't I need a sword or something?"
Fertig facepalmed.
"Thank you kind person for reminding me. Exterminatus!" He clapped his hands and everything went dark. The last thing I heard was that Sir Fertig mumbled something about wrong words and death curses.
Chapter 2: In which our hero apparently died and got clonesurrected.
Darkness. The endless black pitch. Then a voice. A british accent. A light. I was swimming through water. Icecold water. It froze me from the inside out. I couldn't move, was sinking. Airbubbles were flowing up from my mouth."No", a voice shouted in my head, "swim up.". So I fought myself the way back to the surface, and then, then I awoke.
And looked right into the face of a grinning Sir Fertig, which is a creepy sight indeed.
"Iiiieeh!" I screamed.
"You sound like a three year old girl.", he noted headshaking.
"I did not. And where am I, may I ask you?"
Fertig smiled. "This", he exclaimed proudly as he turned around himself, arms outstretched, " this is the Ma.Trix."
I was confused to say the least. I seemed to have been laying on a white floor in a seemingly infinitely wide and tall room. I could only assume that the ceiling and the walls were also colored white. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. I didn't know where the light came from.
"The Matrix, so so. And where is this so called Matrix?"
"It is called Ma.Trix., dummy" chided the Enderman, "or with its proper name, Magical Trix and simulation room of the Notchly Department, and is situated in a pocket universe which is situated in my pocket. Understood?"
"Barely not. Rather no. Is it important that I do?" was my disinterested answer.
He shrugged. "Not really."
"How did I come here anyways?"
"Oh", responded Fertig dangerously cheerfully," I accidentally killed you and then cloned you with foul magic, and your life-force is only bound temporarily to your body now except in this dimension and if I would want you to serve me some plates with lobster ragout you would serve me because you are now technically a zombie but I am not cruel, so I will only use this to force you to go on a dangerous quest. Which is probably deadly. Actually, this quest is rated impossible, which means that if you succeed you will be granted immortality which is what you need right now. Great, isn't it?"
That was, in no way at all, great. Not. At. All. Nada. Niente. Nope.
"Are you serious? You killed me? YOU KILLED ME?!!!??" I have never been angrier than now in my hole entire life. This madenderman or however one would call that just walks up to me and kills me out of accident! When I still had a lot if years to live a happy life, I wasn't even finished with school, and I didn't sit through all these hours just to now DIE.
"Yes", he said aghast," please try not to spit."
But because saying don't to a 14 year old boy that has just been killed by an idiot through his idiocy is the perfect way to make this 14 year old boy do the things he shouldn't, I spat. In his tea.
"Great" was his remark," now it is spoiled! Have you atleast calmed down enough?" He threw away his cup.
"So, to go on this quest, you need gear! Me dona!"
Nothing happened.
"Me dona!" Said Fertig, more energetic this time.
"It isn't doing anything." There was still only the whiteness of this extremely large room.
Fertig had seemingly chosen to ignore me.
"/create physical GUI questgear" he commanded.
Suddenly, a large shelve with all weapons you could imagine plus a bit more appeared in midair, where it stayed floating.
"The realtime latin commands plugin is still buggy."
"May I know what a command is?"
"You mustn't."
"I want mustard. So, what did you summon this impressive array of killing tools for?"
Fertig regarded me with a gaze like I was a total imbecile:"To equip you for helping you survive this quest, of course?"
"Do you have radishes in your ears? I will not go on no quest."
"Then be mine guest forever, for in thy first day on Minecraftia after your death thou shall speak in the tongue of thy arthropods, thy second day thou shall speak in thy tongue of thy creatures of thy Nexus Nether, thy third day in thy tongue of thy undead, the fourth in thy tongue of thy scaled stalkers, thy fith day in thy tongue of thy ghosts of decay, thy sixth day in thy tongue of thy dragons, and on thy end of thy seventh, thou shalt roam the earth forever as an unliving thing, no more a human, but a shadow if thyself. You could say as an Enderman. I don't know why it is a punishment though, I like being me."
That was quite the monologue, but I did not understand what the hell he was talking about.
"I am talking about the fact that you will slowly turn into an Enderman and be stuck in that form. Which should give you pain without relent, for human minds can't handle the dimensional planes an Enderman exists on. Or you stay here in this pocket dimension forever. Your choice only!"
Suddenly, the cheerful smile of Sir Fertig was triumphant, even a bit sinister.
"This accident is really convenient for you, is it not?"
"Oh my, the amount of vitriol in your voice could melt bedrock! But yes, I can't deny that your sudden death is an overly tragic event for my cause. Which is to save the multiverse from utter destruction, so if you had guts you would help me anyways."
"I hate you." With these words I threw myself at him. He evaporated in a puff of violet smoke and I landed hard on the white floor. My jaws crunched together and my teeth hurt. Red dots danced over my vision. I forced myself to stand up. Then I examined the shelf with the weapons.
"There is no use to that. You won't even touch me. Now, let us look at the problem with reason! You are going to die permanently after 7 days. If you go on this quest and complete it, The Notchly Department for Epic Quests will fix this. It is a win-win."
"Or you could give my life back now. There is no real danger anyways, am I right?"
Fertig sighed." Usually, the quests are simulated. But not this one. This one is not. How should I explain this." He searched for words.
"The Notchly Department is more like a security. The quest-giving is just something that we do out of, passion you could say. Now, there is a prophecy-"
"Keep away with prophecies." I demanded.
"There is a prophecy that says that the living dead who is not born in the year must travel to the gate of Altropius and travel back to the Cave Game. So, I have done research about you. You were born on the 31th of February, a day that will never ever happen again, and you are a zombie, technically. You fulfill the prophecies description of the valiant hero."
I did not feel valiant nor heroic.
"What is the Cave Game, what does this have to do with me and who is Altropius?"
"Questions, questions, questions. These will be answered soon enough. But one thing before I bid you farewell. Here." He gave me a dented sword with a dull blade. This is Smite. Speak [reason],and whoever is guilty will be struck by lightning and banished into the void where he or his soul shall never return. And be good to Mr. William."
"Wait, a second?! Mr. William-"
Fertig clapped his hands, and the white room faded away, to make place for a forest. It was nothing alike the forest I awoke in. This forest was filled with light, and animals and it was day and tgere were no zombies. And a saddled pig. It grunted. It had a name-tag around his neck. I assumed it to be Mr. William.
"A pig." Mr. William grunted, obviously pleased to meet me.
"A pig." I said again. "My steed is a pig. Great. Now my artist name shall be Sir Porky from the Pigforest." I had this sudden urge to laugh maniacally, but a high pitched scream interrupted me:"Heeeeeelp, a smelly dead thing wants to eat me!"
Chapter 3: The Undead rises and a five year old testificate saves me from certain doom.
I sprinted into the direction the scream came from. Mr. William sprinted in the opposite direction, as soon as he saw the zombie.
"Real nice buddy."
I couldn't blame him though. The zombie was really yucky and scary.
Its one eye that it hadn't lost to decay was hanging out of its skull, which only a third was covered in skin. Its flesh had a brown tone, like beef jerky, and its blood was a dark rotten green. There were only bones left from its right hand, and its left had no thumb. It wore a torn chainmail shirt with a lot of holes in it that was covered in the same goo of rot and blood that was its face. Its feet were stumps, the color of its trousers was grey, but not from fabrication than moreso from the clay that clung to it. And the smell. I can't describe it really, you must have smelled a zombie to understand how bad it is. Foul eggs, old fish, it was the scent of putrefaction. Every other while it let out a degenerate, hungry growl that was twisted by his decomposed throat into a wet, sickening noise.
It was trying to climb a thick old tall oak with a wide protruding crown. I almost felt sorry for this pitiful creature, until I saw the 5 year old girl it was trying to eat. She was sitting on a branch that would be just out of the undead's reach if it could stand up. She had a muddy torn skirt that was white under the dirt and grass stains and an evenly muddy red shirt. Her face was cute but dominated by an absurdly big nose. She had to be a testificate. Her eyes were green, like all of their people, but there was a spark in them that I had never seen before in one of them. Which wasn't often, to be honest. I had only visited twice a testificate village, and that was in school, so my mind hadn't been focused exactly. Like not. But now all I saw was a five year old girl that was in danger of being eaten by a zombie. I did the sensible thing.
"FOR GREAT JUSTICE!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, charging with Smite drawn over my head. My feet flew over the ground. And then I stumbled over a root and fell on my face for the second time this day.
The zombie turned around and opened its mouth. It was filled with black teeth.
It slowly started crawling towards me, and I had the impression that it grinned. It was a knowing grin, knowingful of its victory it was. I was its next meal, and nothing would change that. I frantically tried to stand up but my head was filled with hammers ringing on anvils and the world was spinning around me. I searched for my sword, but it lay behind the zombie, out of my reach.
The Zombie reached for me with his skeletal hand. In return, I squashed his eyeball with my foot. I expected it now to wail and growl in pain, but the loss of his left eye had as much impact on him as a mosquito on steel.
It arounded himself and again clawed for my face. I gripped his arms and tried to hold it away from me. Then they both broke off and fat worms and maggots fell on my shirt. They were white and squishy and they squirmed and wiggled and squiggled, deprived from their feast as they were. Blank horror overcame me. I tried to swish the parasites away. The zombie crawled onto me. He opened his mouth to take a big nice bite of fresh meat. And then a sword split his head right in half.
"I saved your life. Now you must serve me!" the five year old girl ordained. Of course, I heavily protested, because not only did I run to her rescue in the first place, but I am also in no way going to be a five year olds servant.
"Sorry, but no matter how much you rescue me from certain doom, I will not read you bedtime stories or the like and be commanded by a small child."
She held the tip of Smite under my chin:" Who has the sword here?"
That was an argument. Still I disagreed:" Even if you had a lightning bolt, you don't have the guts to use this sword on a person."
She made an angry face:"I killed more growlers than I have fingers and toes."
"Those aren't people."
"Yes they are!" She shouted with trutz. "Yes they are!"
She raised the blade again.
"Now come with me or I poke you!"
"Hah. You can barely hold this sword and I am 9 years older than you." I remarked derogatory.
"Shut and stand up." she commanded.
And so I did.
"Good jimmy!" she praised me.
That confused me.
"My name is not Jimmy!"
The girl didn't seem to care much.
"Be quiet you jimmy!"
"I already told you that my name is not Jimmy!"
We began walking in a direction I deemed to be south. In the meantime, Mr. William had returned.
"I needed you over there, piggy. Where were you?"
The pig grunted playfully.
"Is that your pig, you jimmy?" asked the little testificate intrigued.
"My name is not @&/;$£# Jimmy."
"Then what is it?"
I immediately saw my chance.
"I am Sir Porky of the Pigforest, and this is Mr. William, my mighty steed!"
I exclaimed with pride.
The small girl scratched her head.
"He is a pig."
"He is a fearstriking boar! Wild and savage and blood-addicted."
As I was saying that, Mr. William began chasing a butterfly around in circles.
"He doesn't seem very boarlike. Do you think I can pet him?"
"Yeah" I sighed discouraged," go ahead."
Mr. William licked the girls face.
"Anyway, my point is that I am a valiant knight that came to the rescue and now you treat me like your slave. I must ask you why!"
"That is the way the rules work. You are a knight, you should know them."
"Well, I do not, apparently."
"My mummy used to tell me the old legends of Minecraft. About Notch, the first human and his friend Steve and Steve's shadow Herobrine, and how the evil people of the darkspires were punished because they were His servants, about the river of ghast tears that flows in the Nexus Nether where the souls of the dead must cross the border, about The High King Altropius that burned because he tried to tame the fiery lands of the Nexus Nether and take back his queen and-"
"Wait a second!" I shouted.
"And the point is that in the legends, if someone has his life saved then he must serve his savior. Case closed."
"No" I retorted, "you said something about Altropius. I was actually on my way to the gates of Altropius when I had the unpleasant honor of trying to save you."
"Well, mummy never told me about some door."
"Maybe she knows someone who has a map with that location marked on it."
"She won't." snapped the small girl.
"Well, then maybe your daddy?"
"They won't tell you anything. They, they, they don't like me."
"Ah. You ran away? May I ask why?"
"Just. Be. Quiet." She growled through clenched teeth.
"So, could you kindly bring me to someone who knows where these gates are? Because I have about one week until I die a second time. It was a quite unpleasant sensation."
She just stared at me, like I had emerged from lava.
"Undeath." She whispered.
"Excuse me?"
"You know what?" She said with false enthusiasm, "I do remember someone who knows anything. Now let me sit on your steed and you walk!" And she waved the rusty and way too heavy sword at my face.
Okay. Sudden change of mood? Lucky turning? I hoped for it. Because, I had this distinct feeling that she somehow was exploiting me. And nothing is as evil as a five year old person outsmarting you.
Chapter 4: In which I walk and find out nobody cares about me.
Great. I am travelling with a psychopathic, pyromanic and sadistic 5 year old girl, and she has the sword (and the right to tell me how much I suck). I ask you again: why does this happen to me? Quantum science, reasons, killer bunnies from space? Nope. A very certain Enderman in a suit. And his oversized topperyness was standing right infront of me right now, just suddenly materializing and giving me a heart attack, aswell as causing several questions a la "Is this the grim reaper that has come to take away Mr. William?". Oh, how I would love to close my hands around that slender throat and squeeze until his eyes popped out.
Please refrain from calling me a hypocrite. I did indeed just judge Myna, and basically in the same breath, admitted my wish for brutally slaughtering Sir Fertig. Just let it go. By doing that, you take away from the epic story. And you will probably miss the Zombie Ninja Mechas. I don't know how they fit into here, but I will make it work. Promise.
Anyhow.
I expressed my anger in an appropriate manner.
"So, you dare show up again? Could you make yourself a bit useful for once and get my sword back from this pest?"
Fertig looked back and forth between me and Myna.
He did not really believe what he saw.
"Look, I have probably napped away, but in case that this is real, you my friend, are a moron. I gave you a magical sword and a fierce steed! And you loose it to the first bandit that crosses your way!"
He turned to Myna:"So, you are a bit puny for a bandit. Did you summon a giant skeleton with four arms and explosive arrows or something along those lines? Because if you didn't, then he really deserves getting robbed, or you are a demon. And because I apparently am classed as a demon, which I don't understand because I am friendly and stuff, I can see that you are not. Which means our friend is an idiot."
"Hey!"
That was me.
Myna hopped off Mr. Williams back.
"It was really easy. He fell on his nose. And then I saved him from a zombie." she said casually, like she did that for a warm-up for her day that included evil-god slaying.
"Whatever." answered Fertig,"I am just here to supervise. Carry on!"
"So, you are coming with us?" I asked, hoping the contrary would be the case.
"Indeed. But act like I didn't exist."
That wouldn't be particularly hard for me.
I turned to Myna:"So, your pettyness, how far is this person that knows so much?"
"Actually, he lives just behind the hill where you found me, but I have lead you around in a big circle so I could ride longer."
That was mandatory, of course. Just keep making me angry. It is allright. I can take that. Apparently.
And onwards we went. Me at the front, Myna in the middle and Sir Fertig last. He did his best so we couldn't ignore him, admiring every single square metre of grass, praising all the trees in the forest for asthetical superiority and all that other crap. The landscape was gorgeous, I must admit in retrospect, but at that time my vision was shrouded by a big cloud of violent thoughts and good ol' rage.
"So, Sir Moron, you ruin peoples day often?" I asked with appropriate acid-dripping speech.
"Or have you even considered informing my parents about my untimely demise?"
Sir Fertig finished examining a rose petal and exploded into purple before re-materializing right behind me.
"Only on mondays, Jimmy, only on mondays. And about your question, I have deleted every memory that your parents have of you, and given them a bonsai instead to take care of. So they won't miss you if you die, far far away without friends and in agony and probably very stupidly. I am great at handling social stuff, am I not?"
There is only so much weirdness a mind can take. This border had just been nuked down into the Void. It was almost comical. I just slumped my shoulders in resignment and continued walking, as if walking would bring me back to my warm fluffy bed, my pillow and my room. My lovely room, where I would wake up at a lovely summer morning and spend a lovely day at my lovely school... Yes, I am that desperate.
"You seem depressed?!"
Sir Fertig blurted out.
"Just leave me alone."
I responded reluctantly.
"And my name is not @))€(636&€*#>£#} Jimmy."
TT2000, you are genius.
TT2000, you are genius.
Feedback is appreciated.
TT2000, you are genius.
TT2000, you are genius.
I do believe this story is some of the good stuff.
I will stop now. You may quit readying cyber rotten tomatoes.
TT2000, you are genius.
Interesting at the very least.
To everyone else: Feedback feedback and feedback is what I eat!
TT2000, you are genius.
TT2000, you are genius.
great job
TT2000, you are genius.