• 1

    posted a message on Minecraft Fan Fiction, You Pick the Ending

    I'd vote for the romance ending just because of how freakin weird it is. No story ever ends that way! Second choice would be for the mystery ending, as it has the most potential.


    Also your writing is colorful and easy to follow but you have a huge problem with tense. You keep mixing past and present tense. Probably stick to past tense, which is normal for third person stories. For example, "There WERE (past tense) quiet whispers spreading throughout the village as everyone WATCHES (present tense) the spectacle that HAD (past tense) become Molly and her moms argument."


    The easiest and most sensible solution for this is to change watches to watched. Check through each sentence and look at each verb. If it ends in "s" or "es" then it should probably end with an "ed" instead.

    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on To Kill a God

    Thanks again for the awesome and detailed reply :) stuff like that is what keeps me writing haha. I will give you more of my feedback on your story soon, since I've been busy (I'm posting this on my lunch break haha).


    I edited the chapter a little for formatting and typos, and incorporated a bit of what you said about his father's axe. As for the critiques, the story is far from the end haha. I've got a lot more planned than just this next battle.


    Yeah, Tom is a little hard-headed and motivated by anger. That's why he trudged right back, hes short sighted, which I think might not be as problematic when I write the next few chapters. Itll be a hurdle he'll have to overcome! :)

    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on To Kill a God

    The third chapter is up, and it's a good one :)

    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on The Griefer Attack: Adventure Journals (chapters 1-3)

    This was quite good! Your writing is very clear, I can picture everything easily and the fighting is especially well-described. I like how the narrative changes from first person to third when the griefers are attacking and abducting people. In fact, chapter 2 is my favorite because of those separate paragraphs describing each user and how they get abducted! Each little piece of the story shows how each character is different and we get a small hint of each of their personalities, occupations, strengths and weaknesses. You're better at making characters actual characters than I am, for sure. That's what I struggle with the most, to be honest :)


    What I didn't like was how much the story felt like it was a regular Minecraft game with "dolts staring at a computer screen," as you say, instead of regular characters. There are some elements of the story which makes it sound like an actual story in an actual fictional world, and other elements that make it feel like it's just more server shenanigans written into a story, and the mix doesn't sit well. It reminds us, the readers, that there are no actual stakes in the conflict. I thought this was supposed to be lore, not a server adventure!


    Here are the elements which makes the story feel like server shenanigans and pulled me out of the story:


    -Instead of names there are usernames, with all the numbers and bottom-dashes and everything. Why not just use yours and your brothers' actual names (first names)? No one really knows who you are, so there's no harm in it. Just invent names for everyone else. As it stands, your story could have a character named "xX_dickypr0state69_Xx" and everyone would have to call them by that name and take them seriously.


    -People in general are referred to as "users." Users of what? If this story takes place inside the minecraft world, then there's no reason to call them users. This also applies to the next point.


    -The griefers say they will capture everyone on the "server." Again, why would the characters in the minecraft world call the world they're inhabiting a server? If the name of the land is called "The Server" then that's okay, it would be a clever way of incorporating real-life terms into the world of the story. As it currently sits, however, it's just another reminder that these characters are just dolts staring at a computer screen.


    That's all I can think of for now. Despite my criticisms I really did enjoy the story, and there's definitely more good than bad here. I'd say to definitely keep writing, as I want to know more about what happens

    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on To Kill a God

    Hey thanks dude! I couldn't have hoped for a better reply! The characters are a little wooden at the moment, yes, but I hope to reveal more about them in the future. Good catch on my being inconsistent with the Murderer vs The Murderer.


    Also I tried to find your story but it seems the post is gone. Did you remove it?

    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on To Kill a God
    To Kill a God
    By PopRocks

    Hello everyone! This is a continuation of my other story "The Illager Tragedy", which you may or may not have read (Link: http://www.minecraftforum.net/forums/show-your-creation/fan-art/literature/2814276-the-illager-tragedy-short-read) I decided to expand on it and give it a different title. As with most fanfictions, I WILL change a few rules of Minecraft for the sake of plot! :)

    I don't know how long this will end up being, but for now enjoy the story and give me feedback!


    Chapter 1: The Illager Tragedy

    Tom tightened his grip on his axe, knuckles whitening. The the tip of a tall spire had just come into view above the horizon of endless treetops, a tiny thin line of black that protruded into the bright blue sky. To be visible from this distance, the tower must have been enormous. That was it, that was the village Tom had spent his entire life trying to find. He dragged his boat onto the sandy shore, a small distance away from the forest that hid the fated village in his depths. He would never need to sail again.


    Tom was an Illager. Cursed with unsettling gray skin, a hairless head, and a droopy nose, he was a repulsive sight. Tom was muscular but lean, in early adulthood. And he was the last of his kind. That night, as Tom burned another plank of wood from his boat on the campfire, he looked up at the smoke rising into the starry void and remembered the day that his life was ripped to pieces.


    Tom was Tommy then. He was the only child among his massive family of adult Illagers. They treasured him beyond the worth of diamonds and taught him everything they knew. They taught him about the exile of their kind from the village long ago. They told him that he was their hope, the only sign that the race of strange Illagers would continue on. His mother would sing to him on the balcony of the top floor as the sun would set - beautiful melodies passed down through generations would color the world like the panoramic orange sky. He spent his early childhood exploring and running among the wooden corridors of the massive woodland mansion they called home. It was a gorgeous sight to behold, a marvel of architecture. It was big enough to hold the entire family of dozens of Illagers with room to spare, yet still felt warm and familiar, like the tiny cozy shacks Tom had seen dotting the landscape during his travels.


    Tom stared into the fire and bit hungrily into some cooked meat. He felt his heart beat faster.


    The Murderer had come without warning. A wet slash and a bloodcurdling scream echoed down the hallways, and all the men and women immediately stood up and grabbed their axes. Tom spent the day locked in a secret room with his mother, listening to his family get murdered one by one. "It's just one man!" they had shouted, as the men and women tried to overwhelm The Murderer. The clash of metal and screaming of Illagers inched throughout the halls around Tom and his mother, and continued for hours until finally the mansion was silent. Warm tears ran down his face and onto his mother's hand, who was covering his mouth, trying to muffle his whimpers. In a shaky voice she tried to console him when the crack of a board made her squeal involuntarily. The Murderer was hacking his way into the room from the wall to their right. "Hide!" she whispered desperately. "Get in one of the chests!" Tommy nodded urgently and ran down a corridor of chests and climbed into one on the top row. He curled into a ball and pressed his hands hard against his ears, trying to block out the cracking of The Murderer's axe against wood. He heard heavy footsteps, then a scream from his mother. Silence. Tommy shook uncontrollably and breathed silent ragged breaths. The Murderer began to open the dozens of chests that lined the walls of the room. Tommy heard the squeaking of their rusty hinges get closer and closer until The Murderer was one chest away. Tommy tensed up and braced for his death, but nothing happened. The Murderer let out a frustrated huff as he realized that all the chests were empty. The thudding of footsteps and the cracking of another wall signaled The Murderer's exit.


    Tommy remained in his chest and cried silently until he fell asleep. He laid there in the cramped darkness until his hunger pains forced him out. He walked out to an uncharacteristically bright day and an empty ghost of his former home. All the chests were raided, his family's treasures gone. Walls were broken through with abandon, and even the crops and saplings in the farm rooms were torn from the very soil. And all the books, the shelves upon shelves of books that were once filled with all the knowledge and history of their people, they were all were gone. His family and his legacy were inexplicably torn from him in a single night and by a single terrible person. Tommy curled up in what was once his room, on what was once his bed, and tearfully mourned the loss of his entire race.


    -


    Tom woke from his troubled sleep. The sun had barely come up over the ocean and was gracing his face with warm light. He stood up and brushed the sand from his clothes and scattered the still-warm coals from his fire last night. He slid his axe firmly into the holster on his belt and set into the woods towards the village. The Murderer had been careless in his slaughter and had left a few items from his own pack scattered among the chests in the Mansion - among them was a map. It was an old crumbled map by now, and hadn't served Tom much while he was learning to survive on his own. But it was a constant reminder of what happened, of the promise Tom made to himself as a teen that he would find The Murderer again and kill him. It had taken him years of wandering and surviving, but now the map was describing the landscape around him, and he knew The Murderer's village was nearby. Tom quickened his pace toward the village where he would take his revenge.


    There it was, in full view. On the top of a tall hill, Tom peeked through tall grass at the massive village before him. This must've been the birthplace of his ancestors long ago - he could tell by the familiar architecture of a few of the buildings that peeked over the top of the city walls. A gigantic church dwarfed even the tallest buildings - an excessively ornate structure with stained glass windows and slender pointed spires. At the front of the church, the central tower stretched impossibly high into the sky, such that the clouds themselves passed gently across its cobblestone edifice. This was the spire he had spotted from the shore last afternoon. It must've been built by The Murderer. His ancestors would've never built such a thing.


    Coming in and out of the city gate were villagers, and they looked much like him. There was no doubt that this is where his people once lived, among these fleshy tan people with noses like Tom's who had forced his ancestors into exile. He felt anger at the normal way they walked around, families and friends, not knowing the pain they had caused his race. He stood up and walked down toward the city gate.


    He tried to blend in with a group of villagers that were coming in through the gate. He made it into the city without much problem, but the villagers were beginning to take notice of him. The crowd grew silent as they walked, and the mass of people on the street began thinning around him. As he got closer and closer to the central church, the population of the village seemed to shrink as doors locked around him and villagers peeked anxiously out their top-story windows at him. The church was at the end of the street now, its colorful stained windows gleaming in the sunlight. He eyed the buildings around him. Many of them had been corrupted by The Murderer's overbearing architecture. Unnatural and bulging cobblestone rooms jutted out from the sides of the once-simple buildings, and many houses had been appended several more floors than any Illager or Villager would ever build. The Murder was surely the master of these people. He had taken over their home and redefined all of their culture and belongings as his own. Tom wondered if the fate of his people was better or worse than this.


    A glimmer of bright blue caught Tom's eye. A figure had just walked out of the church and was now looking at Tom. It was The Murderer. He was clad in gleaming diamond armor, ornately interlocking pieces coating his entire body. His face was bearded and slightly tan like the villagers, but with a small nose and blue eyes. He looked surprised. He stepped towards Tom and unsheathed a brilliant diamond sword. The blade itself glowed, not just from the sunlight, but perhaps from countless enchantments stolen from the books of his own people. His other arm bore a heavy wooden shield lined with iron studs. Still, The Murderer looked more confused than hostile.


    Tom's blood came to a boil. His face grew red and he bore his teeth. This was the killer of his entire race! And he didn't even seem phased by Tom's appearance! Tom hoisted the axe out of his belt and held it in both hands. He roared as he charged towards The Murderer. The Murderer took a few steps back and raised his shield against the deadly downward swing of the axe blade. Tom's axe crashed down onto the shield with terrible strength and sent The Murderer staggering backwards, chest exposed. Tom lifted the axe again and put all his fury and power into the next swing. The blade of the axe shot bright sparks in all directions as it buried into the diamond armor. The axe cleaved a clean line diagonally across the chestplate and The Murderer fell backwards.


    The Murderer looked annoyed. He was prepared for the next blow. He blocked the axe swing deftly and this time it was Tom who stumbled back. The Murderer swiftly stood up and slashed at Tom with a quick sideways slice that created a bright blue afterimage as the blade arced sideways through the air. Tom barely managed to jump backwards and dodge the swipe when another glimmering slash sliced across his ribs. Tom cried out in pain and fell to his knees. A heavy diamond boot kicked Tom over onto his back and pinned his chest onto cobblestone ground. Tom coughed and looked up at the point of the diamond sword, inches from his face. He looked into The Murderers eyes and cried in anguish "How could you do this to us!? How could you possibly be so cruel! You've murdered us! You've murdered us!!"


    The Murderer's face showed no sympathy. It didn't even show understanding. In fact, he acted as if Tom had merely uttered an an unintelligible grunt. In a motion that was smooth and natural, as if it had been done a thousand times before, The Murderer pulled back his sword and thrust it effortlessly into Tom's torso. Tom felt an intense hot explosion of pain across his chest, but it quickly vanished. He was slipping away, joining his family. His final thoughts turned towards his mother and the beautiful melodies of his childhood, his bitter pain and anger dissipating effortlessly into the peaceful ocean of death.


    Chapter 2: Resurrection


    A consciousness appeared. From out of the void came a tiny spark of life, an indivisible and dimensionless being. It lingered in the void for a moment, only existing and nothing more, when suddenly and violently it exploded outwards. The consciousness was growing rapidly, spreading everywhere it could, filling the fire of life into the limbs of a body which had appeared out of thin air on an empty beach, near the outskirts of a forest. The body's once-dead brain had ruptured back into existence and his awareness seemed to be screaming a single concept:


    LIFE. LIFE. LIFE. LIFE!


    The idea pronounced itself with increasing strength with every new thump of his heart.

    Tom gasped and opened his eyes. Seared into his vision was a glowing image in the shape of a rectangular totem with emerald green eyes. Tom grimaced and stared at the totem's image speechlessly, his whole body alight with intense pain. Finally, the image dissipated, leaving only the blue sky and treetops in his sight. The burning energy in his limbs had finally subsided, leaving an afterglow of renewal and vigor his muscles. Tom leapt onto his feet and found himself on the same beach he slept last night. His dead fire was still on the sandy shore. He reached into a pocket of his jacket and pulled out the small totem he had hidden there since childhood. Tom yelped and immediately dropped it into the sand where it glowed red-hot. This was the totem he had been given as a child. Its emerald eyes seemed to stare up at him, glinting in the sunlight as the metal cooled down. The totem was silver instead of the usual gold his elders had forged. And it had brought him back from death.


    Tom stood tall and closed his eyes, appreciating the simple feeling of the sun on his face, the crashing of waves in his ears. He reached down towards the holster on his belt and ran his thumb along the familiar curved blade of his axe, and smiled. He was back. He would always be back.


    Chapter 3: Return


    Once more The Murderer's city stretched out before Tom. This time the rooftops were bathed in moonlight, the ominous church tower looming over his head, shimmering with inner torchlight into the starry night sky as far as Tom could see. Crickets chirped and lights in the villagers' obtuse houses went out as the redstone lamps dotting the streets cast their soft yellow light on the last few villagers making their way home.

    The night was exceptionally quiet despite the crickets and the occasional footsteps of a single sheep nearby. It was probably separated from its herd, thought Tom. The city gate was closed tight. Tom scanned the city walls from his grassy vantage point on the hillside he had sat earlier that day. It seemed like the gate was the only way in or out. There were a few quick footsteps in the grass behind him. Tom didn't bother to look. It was the inhuman crawling of a spider. Tom could subconsciously identify all the footsteps that came creeping through the night without bothering to look. The creatures of the night never bothered him if he didn't bother them first. Tom didn't understand that fact as a child. He thought back to his first encounter with a spider, his first real kill.

    -

    Tommy's second night alone in the mansion was cold. A chilly night breeze was filtering through the mansion, wafting through the holes that peppered the outer and inner walls. He sat in his bedroom on the third floor and shivered under his sheets. A pile of stale loaves of bread sat on his bedside table, the only food he had been able to scavenge out of the derelict ruins of the giant wooden mansion. Tommy had found his father's axe lying on the floor near the entrance of the mansion, among dozens of other axes nearby. Tommy's father must have been one of the first Illagers to die when The Murderer had burst in two days prior. Along with the loaves and the axe, Tommy was in possession a single totem that the magic-wielders of his kind, Evokers, had invented. They had called it the Totem of Undying.


    "If you are ever pushed over the brink of life into death, the totem will push you back /ever so slightly!/" One of Tommy's mentors had said, smiling and handing the totem to Tommy. "But don't get too comfortable!" He laughed, "The totem will only push you back once!"


    That was years ago. The mentor had never explained, however, why Tommy's Totem was silver instead of gold like every one else's. And now as he was shivering on his bed he held his Totem and his father's axe next to him, restlessly trying to sleep, when he was startled by a sound. A frantic, sticky thumping of many legs on wood. Tommy stiffened. A creature was scuttling through the halls of the mansion. Tommy pulled the covers over his head and tried in vain to ignore the sound. He held his breath and heard the creature's quick inhuman footsteps echoing its way through the halls of the empty mansion, growing ever louder and stopping right outside his room. His eyes wide, Tommy slipped his Totem into his jacket pocket and gripped his father's heavy axe with both hands. It was still too big for him to hold comfortably in one. He slowly and carefully sat up, the covers of his bed slipping off his head and revealing a horrifying sight. Tommy stared into eight bright red eyes glowing back at him from the blackness of the hallway, and watched in horror as they entered his room on the body of a huge slimy black spider. Tommy's horror was joined by disgust at the hairy alien creature slowly entering his room. Then, the Feeling. Tommy instinctively drowned his fear in anger and felt a jolt of energy course through his limbs. Tommy clenched his teeth. How dare this stupid, disgusting creature invade his people's home after all that had happened! Before the spider could step any further, Tommy, crouching on his bed with his axe in both hands, screamed and jumped at the spider with the axe above his head. He swung down on the spider's head as he landed, and with a wet CRUNCH the axe blade buried itself between the two clusters of red eyes on the brittle arachnid's head. Tommy let go of the axe and stumbled back against his bed, hyperventilating.

    The spider's red eyes were now dark and its limbs were jerkily crumpling up against its body until it was finally still. The creature was dead. It disappeared in a puff of smoke and Tommy's axe clamored to the floor. Tommy sat and sighed, his energy drained. Though Tommy didn't know it at the time, the spark of anger inside him had ignited. Anger would become his companion, mentor, and savior through his lonely journey to come.

    -

    Tom stood up from his grassy perch on the hillside. He had noticed a tree overhanging the city walls and a tall square building directly beneath the overhang. That was his ticket in. He made his way down silently from the hilltop and creeped along the base of the city walls until he found the tree. He jumped up and grabbed a low-hanging branch with both hands and easily pulled himself up. As he climbed, he thought of The Murderer. The monster had been so careless in the way he killed Tom. Not even bothering to comprehend his anguished final words. Well, Tom would surprise him tonight. Maybe then The Murderer would be a bit more comprehending.


    Tom clung to a branch that was suspended over the square building. He hung from it with both hands and let it sag downwards as much as possible, then let go. He felt the rush of wind around him as he fell five or six meters and landed with a loud thump on the roof of the building. Lights came on in the top floor of the building and a young male villager soon came up on a ladder through a trap door. The villager looked around at the rooftop of his home but saw nothing. Tom had already lowered himself over the edge of the roof and had started climbing down the side, silently using the cobblestone trim of one of the corners of the structure as handholds and footholds on his way down. When he was about meters above the street below, Tom pushed off the building and rolled as he hit the ground, still silent as ever. The empty streets were illuminated by moonlight and dotted with spotlights of yellow from the street lamps which ran up and down the streets' lengths.


    Tom creeped between buildings, making sure to stay out of the glow of the streetlights in case any villager was still out and about. He stopped before the grand church once more. It was a humongous cathedral. Aside from the tower which stretched endlessly into the night sky, the rest of the building was a multi-floored marvel of intimidating gothic architecture. Any amount of chambers with secret rooms could be hidden within its depths. Tom's own woodland mansion could have fit within the outer walls of this monstrous building and would've still had room to spare. The tall arched stained glass windows filtered out torchlight from within the church so that the images in the windows were clearly visible. Tom studied each one carefully.

    Window upon window depicted The Murder dressed in full diamond armor in various settings, conquering different monsters. In one window The Murderer was defending a village from an army of zombies, then in another he was in a strange red landscape firing arrows at floating white monsters with crying faces. Were these all imaginary events? Tom snuck around to the other side of the church to see what other information the stained glass might show him. A window with The Murderer and others like him, surrounded by tall slender black creatures with purple eyes. Tom didn't recognize those creatures. Another window showed The Murderer, standing with arms stretched out atop a church - one much smaller than this one - villagers bowing at him on the streets below. Tom guessed he must have saved this village from the zombie horde depicted in that other window, but how long ago? The final window. The Murderer standing atop a wooden mansion, sword in the air high above his head, a pile of dead Illagers at his feet. Tom felt a rush of blood through his body and his heart thumped in his ears. The Feeling. Anger shot through his limbs and burned hot in his chest. The Murderer celebrated the genocide of Tom's people and it made him burn furiously inside.


    Tom slipped the axe out of its holster and paused for a brief moment. His father's axe would be the weapon to do the deed. The Murderer would be dead and Tom's father would have a small piece of his vengence. Tom charged up the steps of the church and burst through the front door. The slamming of the door on the inner wall echoed throughout the stone structure. The cavernous main chamber of the church stretched out before him. The curved vaulted ceiling of the humongous chamber was barely visible from where Tom stood, as the torchlight would nearly fade completely before it could illuminate the stone archways overhead. Rows upon rows of seats lined the chamber on either side of a central aisle, and at the end of the aisle was a tall ornate wooden pulpit, from which The Murderer would no doubt stand. Behind the pulpit Tom could barely make out a spiral staircase through an archway, leading both up and down into places Tom could only guess.


    Metallic footsteps began echoing from out of the spiral stairwell. Tom readied his axe and started walking forward. The Murderer - The God of this land was coming to meet him. And Tom would kill him.

    Posted in: Literature
  • 1

    posted a message on The Illager Tragedy [SHORT READ]

    Tom tightened his grip on his axe, knuckles whitening. The the tip of a tall spire had just come into view above the horizon of endless treetops, a tiny thin line of black that protruded into the bright blue sky. To be visible from this distance, the tower must have been enormous. That was it, that was the village Tom had spent his entire life trying to find. He dragged his boat onto the sandy shore, a small distance away from the forest that hid the fated village in his depths. He would never need to sail again.


    Tom was an Illager. Cursed with unsettling gray skin, a hairless head, and a droopy nose, he was a repulsive sight. Tom was muscular but lean, in early adulthood. And he was the last of his kind. That night, as Tom burned another plank of wood from his boat on the campfire, he looked up at the smoke rising into the starry void and remembered the day that his life was ripped to pieces.


    Tom was Tommy then. He was the only child among his massive family of adult Illagers. They treasured him beyond the worth of diamonds and taught him everything they knew. They taught him about the exile of their kind from the village long ago. They told him that he was their hope, the only sign that the race of strange Illagers would continue on. His mother would sing to him on the balcony of the top floor as the sun would set - beautiful melodies passed down through generations would color the world like the panoramic orange sky. He spent his early childhood exploring and running among the massive wooden corridors of the woodland mansion they called home. It was a gorgeous sight to behold, a marvel of architecture. It was big enough to hold the entire family of dozens of Illagers with room to spare, yet still felt warm and familiar, like the tiny cozy shacks Tom would occasionally see dotting the mountains of islands he had sailed past.


    Tom stared into the fire and bit hungrily into some cooked meat. He felt his heart beat faster.


    The Murderer had come without warning. A wet slash and a bloodcurdling scream echoed down the hallways, and all the men and women immediately stood up and grabbed their axes. Tom spent the day locked in a secret room with his mother, listening to his family get murdered one by one. "It's just one man!" they had shouted, as the men and women tried to overwhelm The Murderer. The clash of metal and screaming of Illagers moved through the halls around Tom and his mother, and continued for hours until finally the mansion was silent. Warm tears ran down his face and onto his mother's hand, who was covering his mouth, trying to muffle his whimpers. In a shaky voice she tried to console him when the crack of a board made her squeal involuntarily. The Murderer was hacking his way into the room from the wall to their right. "Hide!" she whispered desperately. "Get in one of the chests!" Tommy fiercely nodded and ran down a corridor of chests and climbed into one on the top row. He curled into a ball and pressed his hands hard against his ears, trying to block out the cracking of The Murderer's axe against wood. He heard his mom scream and go silent. Tommy shook uncontrollably and breathed silent ragged breaths. The Murderer began to open the dozens of chests that lined the walls of the room. Tommy heard the squeaking of their rusty hinges get closer and closer until finally The Murderer let out a frustrated huff as he realized that all the chests were empty. The thudding of footsteps and the cracking of another wall signaled The Murderer's exit.


    Tommy stayed in his chest and cried silently until he fell asleep. He remained in his chest until his hunger pains forced him out. He walked out to an uncharacteristically bright day and an empty ghost of his former home. All the chests were raided, his family's treasures gone. Walls were broken through with abandon, and even the crops and saplings in the farm rooms were torn from the very soil. And all the books, the shelves upon shelves of books that were once filled with all the knowledge and history of their people, they were all were gone. His family and his legacy were inexplicably torn from him in a single night and by a single terrible person. Tommy curled up in what was once his room, on what was once his bed, and tearfully mourned the loss of his entire race.


    Tom woke from his troubled sleep. The sun had barely come up over the ocean and was gracing his face with warm light. He stood up and brushed the sand from his clothes and scattered the still-warm coals from his fire last night. He slid his axe firmly into the holster on his belt and set into the woods towards the village. The Murderer had been careless in his slaughter and had left a few items from his own pack scattered among the chests in the Mansion - among them was a map. It was an old crumbled map by now, and hadn't served Tom much while he was learning to survive on his own. But it was a constant reminder of what happened, of the promise Tom made to himself as a teen that he would find the Murderer again and kill him. It had taken him years of wandering and surviving, but now the map was describing the landscape around him, and he quickened his pace toward the village where he would take his revenge on The Murderer.


    There it was, in full view. On the top of a tall hill, Tom peeked through tall grass at the massive village before him. This must've been the birthplace of his ancestors long ago - he could tell by the familiar architecture of a few of the buildings that peeked over the top of the city walls. A gigantic church dwarfed even the tallest buildings - an excessively ornate structure with stained glass windows and slender pointed spires. At the front of the church, the central tower stretched impossibly high into the sky, such that the clouds themselves passed gently across its cobblestone edifice. This was the spire he had spotted from the shore last afternoon. It must've been built by the Murderer. His descendants would've never built such a thing.


    Coming in and out of the city gate were villagers, and they looked much like him. There was no doubt that this is where his people once lived, among these fleshy tan people with noses like Tom's who had forced his ancestors into exile. He felt anger at the normal way they walked around, families and friends, not knowing the pain they had caused his race. He stood up and walked down toward the city gate.


    He tried to blend in with a group of villagers that were coming in through the gate. He made it into the city without much problem, but the villagers were beginning to take notice of him. The crowd grew silent as they walked, and the mass of people on the street began thinning around him. As he got closer and closer to the central church, the population of the village seemed to shrink as doors locked around him and villagers peeked anxiously out their top-story windows at him. The church was at the end of the street now, its colorful stained windows gleaming in the sunlight. He eyed the buildings around him. Many of them had been corrupted by The Murderer's overbearing architecture. Unnatural and bulging cobblestone rooms jutted out from the sides of the once-simple buildings, and many houses had been appended several more floors than any Illager or Villager would ever build. The Murder was surely the master of these people. He had taken over their home and redefined all of their culture and belongings as his own. Tom wondered if the fate of his people was better or worse than this.


    A glimmer of bright blue caught Tom's eye. A figure had just walked out of the church and was now looking at Tom. It was The Murderer. He was clad in gleaming diamond armor, ornately interlocking pieces coating his entire body. His face was bearded and slightly tan like the villagers, but with a small nose and blue eyes. He looked surprised. He stepped towards Tom and unsheathed a brilliant diamond sword. The blade itself glowed, not just from the sunlight, but perhaps from countless enchantments stolen from the books of his own people. His other arm bore a heavy wooden shield lined with iron studs. Still, The Murderer looked more confused than hostile.


    Tom's blood came to a boil. His face grew red and he bore his teeth. This was the killer of his entire race! And he didn't even seem phased by Tom's appearance! Tom hoisted the axe out of his belt and held it in both hands. He roared as he charged towards The Murderer. The Murderer took a few steps back and raised his shield against the deadly downward swing of the axe blade. Tom's axe crashed down onto the shield with terrible strength and sent The Murderer staggering backwards, chest exposed. Tom lifted the axe again and put all his fury and power into the next swing. The blade of the axe shot bright sparks in all directions as it buried into the diamond armor. The axe cleaved a clean line diagonally across the chestplate and The Murderer fell backwards.


    The Murderer looked annoyed. He was prepared for the next blow. He blocked the axe swing deftly and this time it was Tom who stumbled back. The Murderer swiftly stood up and slashed at Tom with a quick sideways slice that created a bright blue afterimage as the blade arced sideways through the air. Tom barely managed to jump backwards and dodge the swipe when another glimmering slash sliced across his ribs. Tom cried out in pain and fell to his knees. A heavy diamond boot kicked Tom over onto his back and pinned his chest onto cobblestone ground. Tom coughed and looked up at the point of the diamond sword, inches from his face. He looked into The Murderers eyes and cried in anguish "How could you do this to us!? How could you possibly be so cruel! You've murdered us! You've murdered us!!"


    The Murderer's face showed no sympathy. It didn't even show understanding. In fact, he acted as if Tom had merely uttered an an unintelligible grunt. In a motion that was smooth and natural, as if it had been done a thousand times before, The Murderer pulled back his sword and thrust it effortlessly into Tom's torso. Tom felt an intense hot explosion of pain across his chest, but it quickly vanished. He was slipping away, joining his family. His final thoughts turned towards his mother and the beautiful melodies of his childhood, his bitter pain and anger dissipating effortlessly into the peaceful ocean of death.

    Posted in: Literature
  • 0

    posted a message on 100% Pure Vanilla Survival Server

    (Optional) Real Name: E
    In Game-Name: ICE
    Age: 21

    Time Zone: US mountain time
    How active Do You Plan To Be?: few times a month

    Any Talents You'd Like To Share?: good at building, never leave things ugly, like playing cooperatively

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on 13w36a Snapshot Ready for Testing!
    Welcome back, awesome terrain generator. We've missed you since alpha.
    Posted in: Minecraft News
  • 0

    posted a message on Looking to make a small community server of youtubers
    I have skype and a youtube channel, but I don't have any recording software. Is it okay if I'm not gonna be recording or uploading? I have a few players I'd bring along for the ride, but they don't have recording capabilities either.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on DevoutPvP - Hardcore PvP [Factions] [Semi-Vanilla] [1.6.2]
    Very good server! It isn't bogged down with tons of unnecessary plugins and shops and etc; it's basically just regular minecraft with factions included. And it's very good! The world map is beautiful (at least the parts that I've seen), the community is small-ish but pleasant, and the staff is competent and mature.

    I'd reccomend this server to anyone who wants to enjoy some good-and-pure minecraft with their friends. If you want to go and grind your axe skills for 5 straight hours with Mcmmo, however, this is not the place for you.

    5/5
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on The Endure Server-Pure Vanilla{16+}
    Ouch, that youtube LPer requirement is harsh, bro. I'd happily just be a tagalong and build and play with you guys, but all that recording stuff gives me a rash. You sure I can't just be a background player? :)
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on StalCraft: New MindCrack Inspired Vanilla Server!
    Nickname:
    ICE

    Age:
    18

    Location:
    USA

    Would you roleplay?:
    Perhaps; depends on the setup.

    How long will you be play a week?:
    Probably like 5 days a week or so.

    Secret Word?:
    Potatoe!

    Will you record?:
    I can record game footage with fraps, if needed.

    Add anything extra!:
    Been playing since before the game had multiplayer!
    I love building, especially with others. PVP servers can be very depressing when you're on your own, or the only builder, etc.
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Leetcraft-[24/7][Survival][NO WHITELIST][Anti-Griefing][LWC Protection][Economy]
    No whitelist? Why am I being disconnected with the message "You are not white-listed on this server!"?
    Posted in: PC Servers
  • To post a comment, please .