So I finally decided to return to writing, knowing how rusty I am. For the last few years I've wanted to write a Minecraft story of my own, but I kept telling myself "once the idea is perfect" or "I don't know if I remember how to write..."
A mentor once told me, write, write, write, and crank your work out. You can go back later and polish it some other time once you've finished the story. And while you're at it, let people read it so they can give you feedback, and ideas.
Getting started is the hardest, yet most important part. So here it is.
I shamelessly present to you, flawed though it is, (because it is a rough draft) my Minecraft story, "Reign of the Damned".
Prologue and Chapter 1, more to follow. This piece is a rough draft and work in progress.
I suppose that was the only way to explain the void that had surrounded us for longer than I can remember. But then again, when you have no planet to live on, that's just sort of how life is, right?
People have often asked... what is heaven like? I can only tell these poor villagers precisely how horrifying it is. Fire. Smoking ruins. The screams of your breathren as the minions of controlling tyrants end their lives in a hail of metal bits, blades, and blood.
We weren't able to hold out long enough. But this, we who think and dream freely, knew. Our day would come. The day the Exterminators arrived. The day the so-called "Peacekeepers" would pound down our doors, and find our sanctum. The day that we Dreamers were nearly exterminated.
"Where did it start? Why were they after you? What evil did you commit?" the elders of the village would ask us.
And the answer was always the same.
We dared to dream. It's always they who dream who are the first to be targeted. The first to be executed or enslaved... take your choice.
We were fools you see, who regard us as wise. And yet here we are, hiding away from the very forces and civilization that had been our life. Forced into hiding with no escape from the void that very technology that had promised to be both our undoing, and our salvation had created.
Do we regret it? Maybe some Dreamers do. Does it matter? Not anymore. Outside the Dream, there is nothing for us. We are forever safe and yet also forever cut off. But when you are surrounded and facing extermination, you can fight or flee, and live. Or you can fight or flee, and die.
We were too poorly prepared, too poorly equipped, and too few.
But in the end, we chose to live.
~Clay Tablet of the Ancients. Circa 001. Sage Jebulon.
Gerffen gave a sigh of relief as the last crop was finally planted. Wiping the sweat from his brow left a brown smear of soil across his forehead, which he promptly tried to erase, only making it worse. The playfully mocking female laughter from his right a few yards away caused his eyes to go wide as he suddenly tried to wipe that away as well, only furthering the mess.
"Try cold water silly!" Remi chidded him. Her green eyes darted playfully in his direction as Gerffen had barely enough time to see the young woman picked up her tools and head down to the nearby river. A golden ponytail bounced and swayed behind her as she made her way down the bank.
Of course he merely sighed in embarassment.
"You never learn do you? The only reason she teases you like that is because she likes you," Matthias gave him a nudge. The white haired youth continued the grueling task of cleaning up the rest of the weeds they had pulled from one of the many village garden plots. Dirt smeared his own undyed brown leather vest, and black dyed wool pants. He was barefoot, lean but solid in muscle.
There was often not enough to go around to eat and Gerffen, like Matthias, showed it. The war had taken it's toll on the village over the last few years, with provisions being shipped out with the few soldiers the village could muster for their own militia. Still, living on the edge of the badlands, the people of Catlan did their best to stay alive. Situated at the base of a mountain range, just on the border, the soil was poor either direction.
"It's too bad her family is leaving for Geddleburg," Gerffen shrugged. "I hear they have better lands there than we do here. Fewer monsters, and more soldiers to fight them off." His own clothing was tattered, thin hides and wool as well. It was honestly all he could afford. Gerffen himself was of average height, dark blue eyes and black hair. He was scrawny and lean for the same reason as Matthias. There often just wasn't enough food to go around. Wrinkling his nose in frustration, Gerffen picked up a broken wooden hoe. "Wish we had better tools." He sighed.
"When you figure out how, I'm sure you'll have people lining up for miles," Matthias gave him that oh so cocky grin once more.
A shrug was all the satisfaction Gerffen would give Matthias. The only thing he knew how to do was plant crops, and maybe hunt small game animals with a club.
The poorly pulled together wooden planks of the settlement only served to remind Gerffen just how dirt poor his village was, if it could even be called that. The luckier villagers had pieces of hide or moth-eaten wool blankets to cover their doors, but as they made their way through, so many undernourished children, men, and women could be seen through wide open doorways. Some had tried to cover their openings with branches, but the leaves always dried up and the sticks often broke. The only ones with any decent tools were the soldiers of the village, armed with the better hide that the village could give, and stone spears, knives, and studded clubs. These few men and women passed the two as they walked up the muddy path to the shanty they both struggled to keep intact.
"You think we should go with them?" Matthias asked.
"Who?" Gerffen's response was, at best, however, distant. His stomach grumbled in protest. The crops weren't ready yet, and all they had at home was a couple slabs of salted meat that had to last at least another couple weeks. Maybe he'd set a few snares, try to catch a few rabbits...
"Remi's family. I bet her father wouldn't mind if we offered to protect them."
Gerffen paused his thoughts of his hungry belly for a brief moment. "Why? He's looking to find her a husband who actually can provide. He's talked constantly about how he wants a better life for her."
Now it was Matthias' turn to raise his eyebrows. "I wasn't suggesting marrying her you idiot! I was suggesting offering to protect them along the way until we get to Geddleburg!"
"Oh."
His friend stopped, laughing just a bit and shaking his head. "You really DO like her don't you?"
Gerffen wrinkled his nose as they pushed their way past a small group of three or four villagers, their own somber mood and stature hunched from hardship.
"You aren't even paying attention, are you?" Matthias sighed.
"I'm too busy figuring out about how we're going to make do until the next moon," Gerffen bit his lip, his tone becoming acidic. Hunger and stress always made him a bit peevish, and this village had PLENTY of that to offer just surviving daily. "No way we'd have enough provisions to make it anyway. What makes you think her father would even share? They barely have enough as it is."
"You don't even dream, do you? Not of a better life than this?" his friend brushed a lock of dirt stained white hair from his eyes. They were a distinct golden color. "I mean really? At least Dante has managed to make something of himself. He was willing to put in the years of practice to learn how to fight, and now he's the head of our militia."
"All ten of them," Gerffen grumbled. But in the back of his mind, he knew Matthias was right. Dante had spent most of his time hunting bigger game, and even slain a few monsters. The sandy-haired youth was reckless, and far more muscular with all the time he spent roving on patrols. Dante was rarely, if ever in the village. It made Gerffen often wonder what an adventuring life like that might be right. Despite this, he was glad Dante wasn't around often, because when he was, Remi was always following him like a love-struck puppy...
"If it weren't for the Catlan Panthers you know we wouldn't have survived all those times that the dead waltzed through here, trying to eat us," a punch in Gerffen's arm brought his thoughts back as Matthias drove the point home. "Why don't you talk to him next time he's in town and see if he'll teach you a few things?"
Hunching and tensing a bit, Gerffen immediately fell silent, as that bit of jealousy nipped at him. While their settlement had maybe a good thirty people, militia included, there were very few young women also of him and Matthias' age. Some were paired off already, some just outright not interested... or interesting. The pickings were slim at best. The few families that made up their settlement were already talking about packing up and moving on.
"I don't like the guy one bit," Gerffen muttered. He paused, shaking the mud from his feet as his foot sank into a sucking puddle.
"So you DO dream, don't you?" Matthias continued to prod, turning around, waiting for his friend, and grinning, of all things. "You're jealous of what Dante has instead of trying to get something for yourself or building a life outside this mess of a village for yourself!"
Gerffen wrinkled his nose, casting an angry gaze in Matthias' direction. Offering a defeated sigh, slump of his shoulders, and then a shrug, he made his way inside the ramshackle, make-shift shelter that only barely resembled a shed.
Screams woke the two. Acrid smoke choked the air, and the sounds of crying children tore through the village. Matthias shoved Gerffen awake, his friend scrambling to sit up with a start, rubbing dirt covered hands in his eyes.
His friend hunched behind the edge of what passed for their doorway, and Gerffen scrambled to join him, as the two peered out, the gruesome scene unfolding. Bodies lay strewn about, half chewed, half torn. Fire ripped through several sheds along the muddy path, and the sound of steel being rammed through flesh, followed by gurgling screams of agony only added to the bewildering din. As Matthias slipped from the shed, as Gerffen huddled in fear inside.
"We've got to run you idiot!" Matthias hissed.
"What are you talking about? It's still night! Gods know what's out there outside!" Gerffen protested, his body petrified in terror, too frightened to even shake.
"We're being attacked! It's better than dying here you-" a yelp of surprise, and a desperate grunt cut off Matthias' reprimand, as a large, humanoid figure smelling of rot clamped it's hands on Matthias' shoulders. Decaying flesh squelched as his friend struggled with the creature, shoving it aside, panting and leaning on the wall. An eerie groan issued from the creature's toothy, rotten maw as the dead walker stood back up, coming at him again. Matthias yelled and gave it a hard shove, sending it wheeling and tripping to fall on it's back. "NOW!" A blast of flame sent Matthias ducking back inside the shed as something obliterated the shanty just a few feet from their own, flaming debris landing on their room. A black figure stood atop the hill, gleaming eyes peering down as if watching the scene unfold. Several more of the dead walkers could be seen now, heading down the mountain path away from the figure.
"We're going to die if we go out there!" Gerffen protested, reeling in shock and locked by the terror that electrified and stiffened his muscled. His heart pounding, his veins feeling icy, he found himself barely able to even talk.
"We're going to die if we stay HERE you idiot!" Matthias cuffed him, yanking him by the collar of his jerkin. Gerffen forced himself to his feet, Matthias practically DRAGGING him out of the now burning shed. His friend clung frightenedly for a moment as they two tried to find their way through the smoke filled air. More rotters closed in now from both sides, several clad in a tunic that suddenly made even Matthias stop.
The Catlan Panthers insignia was painted on the chests of their hide tunics. The red, wild-cat head with fangs bared at the moon now stared back at them, as these corpses shambled their direction.
"How did... what's going on?" Gerffen began panicking, stumbling away from their former comrades. The faces he knew all too well: Eric, Leo, and Martin. Their eyes were milky, glossed over, blood smeared on their faces. Chewed at the neck, and arrows protruding from their torsos, arms, or legs, the dead walkers shambled greedily, their stiff movements even that much more disconcerting.
Matthias felt something in his throat threatening to burst forth, trying not to gag both in horror and from the smells in the air. He turned, dashing past the dead whom had started to creep up behind them.
Gerffen stumbled and fell on his rump, staring up in horror. What had happened? Something about this wasn't even right. Attacks from creatures like this never resulted in buildings burning, and they were often so easily dispatched by their own troops. What was going on? The impact of another blast of flame sent the dead sprawling, as Gerffen rolled for cover on hearing it, bits of burning wood flying everywhere as something obliterated his shack. The dead rose up again, for some reason COMPLETELY ignoring it, fixated on him. Forcing himself to his feet, he dashed for the riverbank, blindly shoving past one or two rotters, his eyes stinging and tearing from the smoke, and from trying not to vomit out of fear and disgust. What was going on?
Further up the mountainpath, the cloaked figure stared, before turning away, the two other figures at its' side following as the village burned below...
This is good, I like it and will continue to read it as you write more. I am interested in what is going to happen next, so you're doing well. I'm not very experienced with writing, so I cannot give you very much advise. I think that the story is good, I didn't notice anything that needed to be evaluated on. I did notice you said 'had', but wouldn't it be 'has', in the prologue. I may be wrong, but it seems as though it should be has. I hope this helped, or at least gave you motivation to write more. I would appreciate if you took a look at my story, and did something similar. Here is a link, http://www.minecraftforum.net/forums/show-your-creation/fan-art/literature/2855838-the-mineverse-story.
Thank you. I have been reading over a lot of my old work before I got rusty, returned with some fresh ideas to blend in with the Minecraft theme. You may see a few "mods" featured in the story along with my own spin on characters such as Notch and Herobrine (creating my own mythology involving them, not your run of the mill "creepypasta" or whatever usage).
I am working on the next chapter and may take a while longer to release it, so that I can improve the quality of writing as well as possibly expanding the first chapter! Be sure to stay tuned!
Sounds good With my story I am also adding extra things which you might see in a mod, and having different 'verions' of Notch and Herobrine. I think that it is better to take longer for something better than less time for something not as good. And I will definitely keep reading
One would think that we Dreamers, experienced as we are in all the things our own civilization did wrong, would be able to overcome such a thing in our own creations.
One would think so. One would VERY much like to think so.
We believed Paradise had finally been reached, that our long trek and flight from our oppressors had finally yielded fruit.
And yet human nature seeps into the very things we seek to create and to perfect.
The Nightmares appeared of course, for all dreams have them. Every human has their fears and we Dreamers are no different. Yet during the Creation, these fears were given form.
It was an easy Mistake to correct. And so we sealed them up in a realm reflecting our own vision of Hell. And so we believed our Creation safe from them, the two realms separated.
Even dreams aren't perfect, I suppose.
The People were born of our dreams and we envisioned them as perfect as we could. Enlightened, wise, and immune to our own failings. We would not let our History repeat itself here.
I suppose that in and of itself was also a Mistake. We did not believe it could happen, at first, but then the first fist was swung against one of our own. We wanted our Dream to grow on its' own, but it was either lose our Paradise, or establish Order.
And so Order was established. We ruled over the People and for a time, peace was once more the way of things, and we believed this Mistake corrected.
Oh, how grave our arrogance, if only we had known how truly wrong we were...
~Clay Tablet of the Ancients. Circa 103. Sage Jebulon
Scraping and clawing greeted Gerffen's ears the next morning when he woke. Peering down through the foliage of the tree that he had stashed himself in overnight, he was greeted by peering, yellowed eyes. The ashen, gray flesh covering the zombie's face was scratched in multiple places, and the neck decorated with a lacerated bite wound, a chunk of flesh obviously missing. The Catlan Panther's tabard still graced it's lumbering form, and he once again recognized Leo's face.
Leo. Gerffen's friend since he had fled to the settlement, trying to escape the war far, far south. The southern kingdom had wanted their land, and there had been so little they could have done to stop it. He and his sister had fled in the night across the Badlands. It was not a journey she had survived, sadly, and after burying her in the sands, he had continued north until reaching the ramshackle camp that Catlan was. A camp that was now reduced to charred lumber and rubble at best.
The realization of the night before hit Gerffen like an Ettin's fist. Despite the horror, revulsion, and bile he felt rising in the back of his throat as he stared down at Leo's reanimated, hungering corpse, the slow dawning that gnawed in the back of his mind hit home. There WAS no home to return too, even if he got out of this one alive.
And yet, here it was, daylight. The safest chance for him to flee. After all, the shambling corpse beneath wouldn't be able to travel in the sunlight. The one thing that kept them safe was Notch's holy rays that cascaded from the sun, giving the land life.
Taking his chance, Gerffen leapt down on the other side of the tree. Leo shambling after him, he bolted and dashed up the riverbank south to the ruins. Matthias would be there... he'd have to, right? He had to find Matthias... and had to find Remi. It had been far too dangerous last night, and Gerffen knew next to NOTHING about defending himself, after all, the Militia had done that for them for so long.
The shambling scrambling pursued his ears, and Gerffen stopped midway, catching his breath, waiting, expecting the undead flesh to burst into flames as it always did everytime one of these things stepped into sunlight.
Except something was wrong. Very wrong. This one did not burn.
Backpedaling slowly as the young man tried to figure this out, his preplexity turned to horror as he began to realize this sudden change in things.
What in the name of Notch was going on?!
Turning, he dashed for the village once more, making his way to the mud and now ash and timbers strewn road. Stinking still of smoke, the smoldering piles of wood that had once been their crude shacks dotted the path. Still running, Gerffen began quickly poking through the wreckage, hastily peering behind his shoulder in frightened, nervous glances at Leo's slowly pursuing form. Someone, anyone had to be alive still! One shack was still intact. Remi and her father's home.
Gerffen ran to this shed, and his blood nearly froze in its' veins as he clamped a hand over his own mouth to silence his cry. Four of the dead, also wearing the Militia tabards, were hunched over and feasting upon something. He bumped into the side of the shed, the wood rattled as Gerffen tried to hastily turn. Four sets of eyes looked up, bloody flesh in their mouths and fingertips as they peered at the fresh, live prey that had delivered itself. On their feet and lurching his direction, they shoved and jostled past each other to be the first out, as he turned to flee. As they made their way out and began pursuing him up the scorched grass hillside, Leo wasn't far behind.
He turned his head a moment to look back, and something slammed him in the face. Something tall, something large. Backing up, Gerffen whirled to look in front of himself, expecting another of the creatures.
"Someone else DID survive, thank Notch!" it was Dante's rough voice. "Get behind me... I see you brought friends."
Gerffen nodded, dipping behind the militia captain, for once grateful to see the Catlan Panther's insignia. "Who else is down there?" he asked, his voice level and cold as he watched the corpses shambling their direction.
Gerffen shook his head. "Remi... I think they... I think..."
Dante paused. "Remi isn't down there. But I know where she is. Or at least I think I do." He peered back, dark green eyes grabing Gerffen's gaze. His blonde hair cut was cut short, and he had a well muscled build from his constant patrols. "Head for the mountains. I'll be right behind you as soon as I deal with these things..."
Gerffen nodded, hope thumping the inside of his ribcage as his heart raced at the thought of Remi's survival. "Careful, they aren't burning like the other ones do. What's going on Dante?" He prodded.
"Now's not the time. Meet me at the base of the mountain paths and I'll tell you what I can. Someone or something managed to give myself and the militia a serious beating... I'm the only one left. Who else is alive?"
"I think Matthias escaped but I didn't see anyone else... only... whatever they were eating in Remi's house..." Gerffen gulped, the memory still kicking him in the gut and making him nauseaus.
"Ok. Just get the heck out of here! I'll hold them off!" Dante whirled and strode towards the village, studded club in hand to meet the shambling horde of rot walkers...
you can fight or flee, and live. Or you can fight and die.
I just noticed this in your prologue. I would suggest that you write it as "you can flee, and live. Or you can fight and die." To me it makes more sense.
I just read the new chapter. It's good, but who's Ettin? I don't recall Ettin in the story, I might remember wrong though. I don't have much else to say. Nice work, keep it up
"An Ettin." an ettin is a kind of ogre like monster in most folk lore. will be expanded on later
as for the quote in the prologue, i've edited it. the point was mostly to emphasize that fight or flee, you may still live or die. which begs the question, what DID they do to live, if the same things could result either way.
also removed the last sentence in this chapter because i felt like it weakened and took away from the hook leading into the next one.
yep no problem. you did catch that right though, I hadn't mentioned them before. i am going to be utilizing Lycanites Monsters (the creator's permission HAS been obtained) as the monster "mod" for this story to add more.
Good... Evil... what difference do these things make?
A good, just person is so easily twisted and manipulated into serving sinister causes, even if they don't realize it. One or two justifications is all it truly takes.
An evil person is, however, far more honest than a just man, in their lack of pretense. And yet even they can be convinced to do good if it profits them.
Altruistic tendencies and selfish urges, forever seen in opposition to one another are actually, in truth, one that is given birth to another, if the scales of value are tipped right.
If only we had understood this when we created the World.
The MOAV's power was great, limitless. The power to bring order to chaos and chaos to order... through it we created the Realms. Through it we created the Core. With it we drew the power of the Bits together into the Voxel, and with the Voxel as our basic particles, we crafted entire worlds.
Imagination is limitless, and it is from imagination and desire that wishes are born. And through these justifications infect even the noblest cause, or purify the most sinister person.
If only we had known how to do the later, for it was the former that became our truest downfall...
~Clay Tablet of the Ancients. Circa 300. Sage Jebulon
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So I finally decided to return to writing, knowing how rusty I am. For the last few years I've wanted to write a Minecraft story of my own, but I kept telling myself "once the idea is perfect" or "I don't know if I remember how to write..."
A mentor once told me, write, write, write, and crank your work out. You can go back later and polish it some other time once you've finished the story. And while you're at it, let people read it so they can give you feedback, and ideas.
Getting started is the hardest, yet most important part. So here it is.
I shamelessly present to you, flawed though it is, (because it is a rough draft) my Minecraft story, "Reign of the Damned".
Prologue and Chapter 1, more to follow. This piece is a rough draft and work in progress.
Cold and dark.
I suppose that was the only way to explain the void that had surrounded us for longer than I can remember. But then again, when you have no planet to live on, that's just sort of how life is, right?
People have often asked... what is heaven like? I can only tell these poor villagers precisely how horrifying it is. Fire. Smoking ruins. The screams of your breathren as the minions of controlling tyrants end their lives in a hail of metal bits, blades, and blood.
We weren't able to hold out long enough. But this, we who think and dream freely, knew. Our day would come. The day the Exterminators arrived. The day the so-called "Peacekeepers" would pound down our doors, and find our sanctum. The day that we Dreamers were nearly exterminated.
"Where did it start? Why were they after you? What evil did you commit?" the elders of the village would ask us.
And the answer was always the same.
We dared to dream. It's always they who dream who are the first to be targeted. The first to be executed or enslaved... take your choice.
We were fools you see, who regard us as wise. And yet here we are, hiding away from the very forces and civilization that had been our life. Forced into hiding with no escape from the void that very technology that had promised to be both our undoing, and our salvation had created.
Do we regret it? Maybe some Dreamers do. Does it matter? Not anymore. Outside the Dream, there is nothing for us. We are forever safe and yet also forever cut off. But when you are surrounded and facing extermination, you can fight or flee, and live. Or you can fight or flee, and die.
We were too poorly prepared, too poorly equipped, and too few.
But in the end, we chose to live.
~Clay Tablet of the Ancients. Circa 001. Sage Jebulon.
Gerffen gave a sigh of relief as the last crop was finally planted. Wiping the sweat from his brow left a brown smear of soil across his forehead, which he promptly tried to erase, only making it worse. The playfully mocking female laughter from his right a few yards away caused his eyes to go wide as he suddenly tried to wipe that away as well, only furthering the mess.
"Try cold water silly!" Remi chidded him. Her green eyes darted playfully in his direction as Gerffen had barely enough time to see the young woman picked up her tools and head down to the nearby river. A golden ponytail bounced and swayed behind her as she made her way down the bank.
Of course he merely sighed in embarassment.
"You never learn do you? The only reason she teases you like that is because she likes you," Matthias gave him a nudge. The white haired youth continued the grueling task of cleaning up the rest of the weeds they had pulled from one of the many village garden plots. Dirt smeared his own undyed brown leather vest, and black dyed wool pants. He was barefoot, lean but solid in muscle.
There was often not enough to go around to eat and Gerffen, like Matthias, showed it. The war had taken it's toll on the village over the last few years, with provisions being shipped out with the few soldiers the village could muster for their own militia. Still, living on the edge of the badlands, the people of Catlan did their best to stay alive. Situated at the base of a mountain range, just on the border, the soil was poor either direction.
"It's too bad her family is leaving for Geddleburg," Gerffen shrugged. "I hear they have better lands there than we do here. Fewer monsters, and more soldiers to fight them off." His own clothing was tattered, thin hides and wool as well. It was honestly all he could afford. Gerffen himself was of average height, dark blue eyes and black hair. He was scrawny and lean for the same reason as Matthias. There often just wasn't enough food to go around. Wrinkling his nose in frustration, Gerffen picked up a broken wooden hoe. "Wish we had better tools." He sighed.
"When you figure out how, I'm sure you'll have people lining up for miles," Matthias gave him that oh so cocky grin once more.
A shrug was all the satisfaction Gerffen would give Matthias. The only thing he knew how to do was plant crops, and maybe hunt small game animals with a club.
The poorly pulled together wooden planks of the settlement only served to remind Gerffen just how dirt poor his village was, if it could even be called that. The luckier villagers had pieces of hide or moth-eaten wool blankets to cover their doors, but as they made their way through, so many undernourished children, men, and women could be seen through wide open doorways. Some had tried to cover their openings with branches, but the leaves always dried up and the sticks often broke. The only ones with any decent tools were the soldiers of the village, armed with the better hide that the village could give, and stone spears, knives, and studded clubs. These few men and women passed the two as they walked up the muddy path to the shanty they both struggled to keep intact.
"You think we should go with them?" Matthias asked.
"Who?" Gerffen's response was, at best, however, distant. His stomach grumbled in protest. The crops weren't ready yet, and all they had at home was a couple slabs of salted meat that had to last at least another couple weeks. Maybe he'd set a few snares, try to catch a few rabbits...
"Remi's family. I bet her father wouldn't mind if we offered to protect them."
Gerffen paused his thoughts of his hungry belly for a brief moment. "Why? He's looking to find her a husband who actually can provide. He's talked constantly about how he wants a better life for her."
Now it was Matthias' turn to raise his eyebrows. "I wasn't suggesting marrying her you idiot! I was suggesting offering to protect them along the way until we get to Geddleburg!"
"Oh."
His friend stopped, laughing just a bit and shaking his head. "You really DO like her don't you?"
Gerffen wrinkled his nose as they pushed their way past a small group of three or four villagers, their own somber mood and stature hunched from hardship.
"You aren't even paying attention, are you?" Matthias sighed.
"I'm too busy figuring out about how we're going to make do until the next moon," Gerffen bit his lip, his tone becoming acidic. Hunger and stress always made him a bit peevish, and this village had PLENTY of that to offer just surviving daily. "No way we'd have enough provisions to make it anyway. What makes you think her father would even share? They barely have enough as it is."
"You don't even dream, do you? Not of a better life than this?" his friend brushed a lock of dirt stained white hair from his eyes. They were a distinct golden color. "I mean really? At least Dante has managed to make something of himself. He was willing to put in the years of practice to learn how to fight, and now he's the head of our militia."
"All ten of them," Gerffen grumbled. But in the back of his mind, he knew Matthias was right. Dante had spent most of his time hunting bigger game, and even slain a few monsters. The sandy-haired youth was reckless, and far more muscular with all the time he spent roving on patrols. Dante was rarely, if ever in the village. It made Gerffen often wonder what an adventuring life like that might be right. Despite this, he was glad Dante wasn't around often, because when he was, Remi was always following him like a love-struck puppy...
"If it weren't for the Catlan Panthers you know we wouldn't have survived all those times that the dead waltzed through here, trying to eat us," a punch in Gerffen's arm brought his thoughts back as Matthias drove the point home. "Why don't you talk to him next time he's in town and see if he'll teach you a few things?"
Hunching and tensing a bit, Gerffen immediately fell silent, as that bit of jealousy nipped at him. While their settlement had maybe a good thirty people, militia included, there were very few young women also of him and Matthias' age. Some were paired off already, some just outright not interested... or interesting. The pickings were slim at best. The few families that made up their settlement were already talking about packing up and moving on.
"I don't like the guy one bit," Gerffen muttered. He paused, shaking the mud from his feet as his foot sank into a sucking puddle.
"So you DO dream, don't you?" Matthias continued to prod, turning around, waiting for his friend, and grinning, of all things. "You're jealous of what Dante has instead of trying to get something for yourself or building a life outside this mess of a village for yourself!"
Gerffen wrinkled his nose, casting an angry gaze in Matthias' direction. Offering a defeated sigh, slump of his shoulders, and then a shrug, he made his way inside the ramshackle, make-shift shelter that only barely resembled a shed.
Screams woke the two. Acrid smoke choked the air, and the sounds of crying children tore through the village. Matthias shoved Gerffen awake, his friend scrambling to sit up with a start, rubbing dirt covered hands in his eyes.
His friend hunched behind the edge of what passed for their doorway, and Gerffen scrambled to join him, as the two peered out, the gruesome scene unfolding. Bodies lay strewn about, half chewed, half torn. Fire ripped through several sheds along the muddy path, and the sound of steel being rammed through flesh, followed by gurgling screams of agony only added to the bewildering din. As Matthias slipped from the shed, as Gerffen huddled in fear inside.
"We've got to run you idiot!" Matthias hissed.
"What are you talking about? It's still night! Gods know what's out there outside!" Gerffen protested, his body petrified in terror, too frightened to even shake.
"We're being attacked! It's better than dying here you-" a yelp of surprise, and a desperate grunt cut off Matthias' reprimand, as a large, humanoid figure smelling of rot clamped it's hands on Matthias' shoulders. Decaying flesh squelched as his friend struggled with the creature, shoving it aside, panting and leaning on the wall. An eerie groan issued from the creature's toothy, rotten maw as the dead walker stood back up, coming at him again. Matthias yelled and gave it a hard shove, sending it wheeling and tripping to fall on it's back. "NOW!" A blast of flame sent Matthias ducking back inside the shed as something obliterated the shanty just a few feet from their own, flaming debris landing on their room. A black figure stood atop the hill, gleaming eyes peering down as if watching the scene unfold. Several more of the dead walkers could be seen now, heading down the mountain path away from the figure.
"We're going to die if we go out there!" Gerffen protested, reeling in shock and locked by the terror that electrified and stiffened his muscled. His heart pounding, his veins feeling icy, he found himself barely able to even talk.
"We're going to die if we stay HERE you idiot!" Matthias cuffed him, yanking him by the collar of his jerkin. Gerffen forced himself to his feet, Matthias practically DRAGGING him out of the now burning shed. His friend clung frightenedly for a moment as they two tried to find their way through the smoke filled air. More rotters closed in now from both sides, several clad in a tunic that suddenly made even Matthias stop.
The Catlan Panthers insignia was painted on the chests of their hide tunics. The red, wild-cat head with fangs bared at the moon now stared back at them, as these corpses shambled their direction.
"How did... what's going on?" Gerffen began panicking, stumbling away from their former comrades. The faces he knew all too well: Eric, Leo, and Martin. Their eyes were milky, glossed over, blood smeared on their faces. Chewed at the neck, and arrows protruding from their torsos, arms, or legs, the dead walkers shambled greedily, their stiff movements even that much more disconcerting.
Matthias felt something in his throat threatening to burst forth, trying not to gag both in horror and from the smells in the air. He turned, dashing past the dead whom had started to creep up behind them.
Gerffen stumbled and fell on his rump, staring up in horror. What had happened? Something about this wasn't even right. Attacks from creatures like this never resulted in buildings burning, and they were often so easily dispatched by their own troops. What was going on? The impact of another blast of flame sent the dead sprawling, as Gerffen rolled for cover on hearing it, bits of burning wood flying everywhere as something obliterated his shack. The dead rose up again, for some reason COMPLETELY ignoring it, fixated on him. Forcing himself to his feet, he dashed for the riverbank, blindly shoving past one or two rotters, his eyes stinging and tearing from the smoke, and from trying not to vomit out of fear and disgust. What was going on?
Further up the mountainpath, the cloaked figure stared, before turning away, the two other figures at its' side following as the village burned below...
Thank you. I have been reading over a lot of my old work before I got rusty, returned with some fresh ideas to blend in with the Minecraft theme. You may see a few "mods" featured in the story along with my own spin on characters such as Notch and Herobrine (creating my own mythology involving them, not your run of the mill "creepypasta" or whatever usage).
I am working on the next chapter and may take a while longer to release it, so that I can improve the quality of writing as well as possibly expanding the first chapter! Be sure to stay tuned!
Sounds good
With my story I am also adding extra things which you might see in a mod, and having different 'verions' of Notch and Herobrine. I think that it is better to take longer for something better than less time for something not as good. And I will definitely keep reading 
Humanity is a funny thing.
One would think that we Dreamers, experienced as we are in all the things our own civilization did wrong, would be able to overcome such a thing in our own creations.
One would think so. One would VERY much like to think so.
We believed Paradise had finally been reached, that our long trek and flight from our oppressors had finally yielded fruit.
And yet human nature seeps into the very things we seek to create and to perfect.
The Nightmares appeared of course, for all dreams have them. Every human has their fears and we Dreamers are no different. Yet during the Creation, these fears were given form.
It was an easy Mistake to correct. And so we sealed them up in a realm reflecting our own vision of Hell. And so we believed our Creation safe from them, the two realms separated.
Even dreams aren't perfect, I suppose.
The People were born of our dreams and we envisioned them as perfect as we could. Enlightened, wise, and immune to our own failings. We would not let our History repeat itself here.
I suppose that in and of itself was also a Mistake. We did not believe it could happen, at first, but then the first fist was swung against one of our own. We wanted our Dream to grow on its' own, but it was either lose our Paradise, or establish Order.
And so Order was established. We ruled over the People and for a time, peace was once more the way of things, and we believed this Mistake corrected.
Oh, how grave our arrogance, if only we had known how truly wrong we were...
~Clay Tablet of the Ancients. Circa 103. Sage Jebulon
Scraping and clawing greeted Gerffen's ears the next morning when he woke. Peering down through the foliage of the tree that he had stashed himself in overnight, he was greeted by peering, yellowed eyes. The ashen, gray flesh covering the zombie's face was scratched in multiple places, and the neck decorated with a lacerated bite wound, a chunk of flesh obviously missing. The Catlan Panther's tabard still graced it's lumbering form, and he once again recognized Leo's face.
Leo. Gerffen's friend since he had fled to the settlement, trying to escape the war far, far south. The southern kingdom had wanted their land, and there had been so little they could have done to stop it. He and his sister had fled in the night across the Badlands. It was not a journey she had survived, sadly, and after burying her in the sands, he had continued north until reaching the ramshackle camp that Catlan was. A camp that was now reduced to charred lumber and rubble at best.
The realization of the night before hit Gerffen like an Ettin's fist. Despite the horror, revulsion, and bile he felt rising in the back of his throat as he stared down at Leo's reanimated, hungering corpse, the slow dawning that gnawed in the back of his mind hit home. There WAS no home to return too, even if he got out of this one alive.
And yet, here it was, daylight. The safest chance for him to flee. After all, the shambling corpse beneath wouldn't be able to travel in the sunlight. The one thing that kept them safe was Notch's holy rays that cascaded from the sun, giving the land life.
Taking his chance, Gerffen leapt down on the other side of the tree. Leo shambling after him, he bolted and dashed up the riverbank south to the ruins. Matthias would be there... he'd have to, right? He had to find Matthias... and had to find Remi. It had been far too dangerous last night, and Gerffen knew next to NOTHING about defending himself, after all, the Militia had done that for them for so long.
The shambling scrambling pursued his ears, and Gerffen stopped midway, catching his breath, waiting, expecting the undead flesh to burst into flames as it always did everytime one of these things stepped into sunlight.
Except something was wrong. Very wrong. This one did not burn.
Backpedaling slowly as the young man tried to figure this out, his preplexity turned to horror as he began to realize this sudden change in things.
What in the name of Notch was going on?!
Turning, he dashed for the village once more, making his way to the mud and now ash and timbers strewn road. Stinking still of smoke, the smoldering piles of wood that had once been their crude shacks dotted the path. Still running, Gerffen began quickly poking through the wreckage, hastily peering behind his shoulder in frightened, nervous glances at Leo's slowly pursuing form. Someone, anyone had to be alive still! One shack was still intact. Remi and her father's home.
Gerffen ran to this shed, and his blood nearly froze in its' veins as he clamped a hand over his own mouth to silence his cry. Four of the dead, also wearing the Militia tabards, were hunched over and feasting upon something. He bumped into the side of the shed, the wood rattled as Gerffen tried to hastily turn. Four sets of eyes looked up, bloody flesh in their mouths and fingertips as they peered at the fresh, live prey that had delivered itself. On their feet and lurching his direction, they shoved and jostled past each other to be the first out, as he turned to flee. As they made their way out and began pursuing him up the scorched grass hillside, Leo wasn't far behind.
He turned his head a moment to look back, and something slammed him in the face. Something tall, something large. Backing up, Gerffen whirled to look in front of himself, expecting another of the creatures.
"Someone else DID survive, thank Notch!" it was Dante's rough voice. "Get behind me... I see you brought friends."
Gerffen nodded, dipping behind the militia captain, for once grateful to see the Catlan Panther's insignia. "Who else is down there?" he asked, his voice level and cold as he watched the corpses shambling their direction.
Gerffen shook his head. "Remi... I think they... I think..."
Dante paused. "Remi isn't down there. But I know where she is. Or at least I think I do." He peered back, dark green eyes grabing Gerffen's gaze. His blonde hair cut was cut short, and he had a well muscled build from his constant patrols. "Head for the mountains. I'll be right behind you as soon as I deal with these things..."
Gerffen nodded, hope thumping the inside of his ribcage as his heart raced at the thought of Remi's survival. "Careful, they aren't burning like the other ones do. What's going on Dante?" He prodded.
"Now's not the time. Meet me at the base of the mountain paths and I'll tell you what I can. Someone or something managed to give myself and the militia a serious beating... I'm the only one left. Who else is alive?"
"I think Matthias escaped but I didn't see anyone else... only... whatever they were eating in Remi's house..." Gerffen gulped, the memory still kicking him in the gut and making him nauseaus.
"Ok. Just get the heck out of here! I'll hold them off!" Dante whirled and strode towards the village, studded club in hand to meet the shambling horde of rot walkers...
I just noticed this in your prologue. I would suggest that you write it as "you can flee, and live. Or you can fight and die." To me it makes more sense.
I just read the new chapter. It's good, but who's Ettin? I don't recall Ettin in the story, I might remember wrong though. I don't have much else to say. Nice work, keep it up
"An Ettin." an ettin is a kind of ogre like monster in most folk lore. will be expanded on later
as for the quote in the prologue, i've edited it. the point was mostly to emphasize that fight or flee, you may still live or die. which begs the question, what DID they do to live, if the same things could result either way.
also removed the last sentence in this chapter because i felt like it weakened and took away from the hook leading into the next one.
Oh, ok. I'm not too informed with much folk lore. Thanks for the information
yep no problem. you did catch that right though, I hadn't mentioned them before. i am going to be utilizing Lycanites Monsters (the creator's permission HAS been obtained) as the monster "mod" for this story to add more.
That's really cool, I'm hyped
it that great thank so much http://moviesonline.ac/watch/kvXRgKGe-jeopardy-season-2017.html
Good... Evil... what difference do these things make?
A good, just person is so easily twisted and manipulated into serving sinister causes, even if they don't realize it. One or two justifications is all it truly takes.
An evil person is, however, far more honest than a just man, in their lack of pretense. And yet even they can be convinced to do good if it profits them.
Altruistic tendencies and selfish urges, forever seen in opposition to one another are actually, in truth, one that is given birth to another, if the scales of value are tipped right.
If only we had understood this when we created the World.
The MOAV's power was great, limitless. The power to bring order to chaos and chaos to order... through it we created the Realms. Through it we created the Core. With it we drew the power of the Bits together into the Voxel, and with the Voxel as our basic particles, we crafted entire worlds.
Imagination is limitless, and it is from imagination and desire that wishes are born. And through these justifications infect even the noblest cause, or purify the most sinister person.
If only we had known how to do the later, for it was the former that became our truest downfall...
~Clay Tablet of the Ancients. Circa 300. Sage Jebulon