Matt, Winston, and Kuckers have been best friends for years. The group had fought off Endermen together, mined for materials, and even just relaxed with each other. This, in particular, was one of those nights. After a long day, the friends decided to watch 3AM Challenge videos online. The videos were by far all of their favorites and always were fun to watch.
Matt turned to the rest of the group after glancing at the time on the computer. “It’s pretty late, do you guys want to try to do something like this?”
The other two nodded. “Um… How about we do it at that Freddy Fazbear’s place? I know a way that we can easily get in,” Kuckers suggested. The others agreed and they decided to head out.
The walk was fairly short and before they knew it the group was standing in front of the building. Kuckers helped everyone inside with the current time being 2:53 AM. They decided to poke around the building for a while.
Winston ended up finding a Freddy Fazbear fidget spinner and started spinning it while they were exploring around and casually noted that the animatronics on the stage weren’t in the same place as they previously were. They shrugged it off, as it was so late they thought their eyes were playing tricks on them. However, this was not the case.
The friends were going down a long, dark hallway when suddenly they heard a scream. Matt and Kuckers watched helplessly as Winston was being dragged back into a room by the same purple bunny on the stage earlier. Kuckers threw Winston’s fidget spinner at the animatronic but it didn’t seem to harm it in any way. The door slammed shut and a bloodcurdling scream rang through the whole pizzeria. The two had no choice but to run. They stopped once they reached a bench by the play area. They both decided to go back to Matt’s house together.
They headed for the way they got in before realizing it was blocked off. Looking at each other in disbelief, they both split up and looked for another way out. About ten minutes into the search, Kuckers found another way they could get out and was about to dial up Matt on the phone. Before he could do that, however, he felt two arms wrap around him. Kuckers struggled against whatever was grabbing him but it was too strong. The last thing Kuckers ever saw was the face of a yellow animatronic.
It was now 3:47, Matt had given up on calling his friend and he assumed that he was gone just like Winston was. It was all his fault. He was the one who came up with the idea. Matt started to cry, he never felt as defeated as he did tonight. He sat down in front of a purple curtain and thought over the night. Matt felt a hook grabbing his shirt but he didn’t care. He sighed softly and let the hook pierce his body. The night had gone terribly wrong.
The two combatants charged towards each other. Ye-Zon went for a killing blow, bringing his blade sideways in an attempt to decapitate Mob. He ducked as the zombie king’s blade whistled above his head. He swung his weapon at the legs of his opponent, but only manage to carve a hole in his iron leggings, revealing tender flesh. Before he could attack that weak spot, however, the user-that-is-not-a-user received a punch to the gut. He was thrown a few blocks backward. He landed a few blocks backward. Looking down, he saw the armor had taken most of the damage; it was now partially cracked. Pulling himself to his feet, Mob spotted something shocking. Ye-Zon’s iron armor was putting itself back together! It looked like a scene straight out of Terminator 2. Mob leapt up into the air, determined to strike. He thrust his blade forward, straight at the repairing section of the armor. The zombie king moaned in pain as Mob’s sword found flesh. In retaliation, the decaying monster slashed at his enemy with an iridescent iron sword.
Pain exploded in his gut as he flew into a wooden tendril. Stars flashed across his vision as the zombie king lumbered towards him. His enemy raised his sword and jumped, bringing a would-be killing blow with him. Mob barely rolled out of the way as wooden splinters flew everywhere. Looking back at Ye-Zon, he smiled. The zombie king’s sword was trapped in the wood block! Seizing the opportunity, he hacked at his golden armor until it finally cracked and broke. He then slashed at the exposed shoulder. Ye-Zon moaned in pain as he flashed red. Roaring with pain and determination, the zombie king pulled out his blade and slashed at Mob’s exposed flesh. The user-that-is-not-a-user yelled out in pain as his enemy slashed at his partly broken chestplate. He brought his blade up as his enemy attempted to attack. The two attacked one other as they climbed up the tendril, only to be foiled by the other’s defense. The sound of the two swords smashing together was louder than thunder. Daring to look behind him for a second, his entire body shivered with terror. He was ten blocks away from the edge! Fighting with renewed strength and the instinct to survive, Mob launched an offensive against Ye-Zon, only to have him block his attacks.
Attack… Block… He was three blocks away from a certain death.
“The enemy of The Maker has nowhere to go,” the zombie king rasped. “Surrender and I will make this quick.”
“Never!” Mob said, launching a final, desperate offensive.
“Then you invite your doom.” Ye-Zon drew his blade and charged towards Mob. The sheer force of the blow drove him to the edge.The two opponents put all their strength into their weapons, causing them to be locked in a stalemate. Mob gritted his teeth as his feet slowly slipped into open air.
“Enjoy your final moments.” Ye-Zon sneered.
“No. Enjoy yours.” With that, Mob jumped out of the way, grabbing on to a wood block. With his opponent gone, the zombie king, eager for victory, had put too much force into his blade and skidded to the cliff side, teetering on the edge.
Then gravity took over.
Ye-Zon yelled in pain and fear as he fell to grassland below. His screams echoed all the way as Mob climbed back up and sheathed his sword.
By: Andrew W
Chapter 1 (More on the way!)
Chapter 1: Memories.
Rain fell from the heavens as if the Creator himself had dropped a bowl of tear-shaped glass beads onto the world. It splattered on his iron helmet and the iron helmets of the other NPC’s next to him with a quiet plunk, proceeding to run down the sides of their protective headgear and fall onto their shoulders, neck or back whenever they tilted their heads any way. It was quite an annoyance, but the fear and trepidation emanating from them all made them ignore it; the task on hand was more important. Out on the soon-to-battlefield it was pitch black. Only some moonlight helped to see through the dense, depressing fog smothering the lovely green blanket that was the grassy plains; the strongest light coming from torches placed here and there on the wall that would’ve been more preferable out there instead. Peering forwards he attempted to see through the fog a little better. His grip tightened on the enchanted diamond sword in his left hand and the enchanted bow in his right.
A line of archers, clad in iron armor, stood in a row of one on either sides of him. The dull grey and white colors provided little eye candy, but the way the rain created a wet mirror on their armor was a beautiful sight to behold. He was an exception from this iron wall, clad in ¾ of a suit of diamond armor, with cracks and chips here and there from the last battle he had fought through. His helmet-which was the ¼ that was not diamond-was merely iron, but he wore it with pride. The dents and shreds in it did not faze him as what that helmet had been through with him was legendary. He stood at the middle of the wall, trying to be as tall and proud as he could, as if a conductor preparing to conduct his orchestra.
Bows creaked as their owners notched an arrow and breathing became heavy. Each of the archers were positioned behind a two-block tall sanctuary, one block apart from the brave soldiers next to them. Their plan was to notch an arrow, poke out from behind their blocks, fire at the shortly oncoming horde, then duck back behind, hopefully unscathed.
The boy’s body seemed wiry and short, but his skill and behavior told a different story. He was a boy who was mostly judged by his cover, like a book, because being not as tall as the other villagers around him made him look like just a young teenager. But his brave NPC army he led was not fooled. They had seen his true skill.
This boy’s name was Ruse.
Ruse was not a normal NPC. He came from the jungle, and not born in a normal village like all other NPC’s. In addition, all villagers were named for their jobs, like his friend Stonecutter who worked to create stone bricks and other stone goods for the village. His name was special, and he was proud of it. But oh, how he missed his old friend Stonecutter…
The comforting static-like sound of the downpour pressed in upon his ears, relaxing his mind. Raindrops thudded against the stone brick wall and his helmet and in some way made Ruse think of his wooden home stuffed in amongst the other village houses behind him. He leaned against one of the two-block pillars next to him sleepily and began to daydream of his rough beginning in this blocky world.
Ruse could remember his rescue clearly. However, he didn’t remember how he got where he began… a flash of white light… Hmph. In addition, he somehow came in to this world understanding it. He knew what was what. How he knew what was what, he didn’t remember either! What he did remember, however, was stumbling blindly through the shady darkness of the jungle as sunset approached. He was growing desperate and could feel his hunger bar growing low…
The branches of dense jungle foliage reached out at him like little knives, proceeding tearing his clothes to pure shreds. He sprinted towards a decently sized clearing in the distance… Salvation. His feet squished against the wet mud and grass on the jungle floor. He narrowly avoided slipping in his haste to escape.
“Hey!” Shouted a wary voice.
Ruse spun around towards the noise, his fists raised in a defensive position. He had no hope to fight against any enemies, as he was too weak from his travel. But he had to do something. The leaves in front of him shook with unseen movement, and suddenly-
The mysterious being gasped with surprise. He had jolted through the bushes with the force of a creeper blast, skidding to a halt approximately three or four blocks in front of Ruse. It was a human, definitely, in full iron armor and clenching an iron sword-which had seen a little bit of wear and tear from cutting through the multitudes of thick jungle undergrowth-in his left fist. His entire set of iron armor had a few scrapes in it here and there, as cutting back the bushes with his sword seemed to have still not stopped their ravaging branches. His lower half was splattered with mud, boots brown like leather. Clearly he had been out here as well-exploring or doing some other activity. Shocked by the sudden appearance of this other person, he raised his sword defensively but soon lowered it as he noticed Ruse was relatively harmless. Ruse, after quickly recovering from this jumpscare, observed his post-assailant’s bodily form warily.
He was a regular NPC with a long rectangular nose and a tall bald head, his iron helmet securely resting on top. His smock was obscured by the armor he wore, but Ruse could see the frayed hem of it-a light grey, the color of stone, with a darker grey stripe running down the middle. His arms were scarred here and there, likely from flying chips of stone as he mined downwards, gaining the-to him at least-valuable raw cobblestone which he could smelt, craft, and turn into beautiful stone goods for his village. His strong muscles bulged slightly under the skin of his rectangular arms from cutting into the flesh of Minecraft for so long, and his foggy grey eyes observed Ruse up and down. Everything about him seemed slightly sad.
“Who are you? Are you a new mob or something?” He questioned, still alert despite Ruse’s dilapidated form. Stonecutter’s grip tightened on the blade, his voice deep.
I’m… I’m,” Ruse stuttered with a quiet and hoarse voice, “I’m not quite sure who I am exactly. Who are you?” He replied nervously.
The NPC peered down at Ruse quite curiously (As he was much taller than him), making a thoughtful “Hm!” at the thought of someone not knowing their own name.
“’Names Stonecutter. I live in a village somewhere over to the East,” He said, waving a blocky hand in the general direction. “I was out here working on a new jungle temple for the users to explore. That’s my job… to build and create with stone, not to mention mine it,” He said upon noticing Ruse’s also curious gaze. “Hence the name. Anyways, introductions over, follow me. You don’t look like an NPC, but I’m sure the Crafter has to do something with you. He’s got a warm heart.” He added.
Before Ruse could reply, Stonecutter had grabbed his hand and was leading him through the route he had cut to get into the jungle-now going out of it.
Who was this Crafter? Ruse wondered. He stumbled once or twice behind Stonecutter (Who was easily walking his way through the path), the jungle tree roots sticking up here and there in the path making it hard not to. Glancing up into the sky whenever there was a clearing between the towering jungle canopies, Ruse could see it was becoming night. Eventually, he could see a dim light ahead, and suddenly-after forcing their way past some overhanging tree branches-were out. Ruse put a tan hand up to his face and looked away, as the sky was still bright despite the setting sun. It hurt his eyes. A horse was tied to an oak wood fence with a lead and hungrily munching on some grass just outside of the opening. A grassy plains biome stretched out into the distance behind it, a river somewhat visible in the very background. The steed eyed Ruse with interest.
Stonecutter let go of Ruse’s hand then jumped on the horse’s back, putting a hand out. “Get on kid, this is our fastest means of transportation here,” He said. His eyes were scanning the jungle behind them, and Ruse could see he was getting nervous at the approaching darkness. A blazing sunset, muffled by the dense foliage of the jungle, still managed to light up the tops of the tall trees and spread throughout the sky, giving the appearance of a orangey-yellow fire blossoming somewhere in the biome. Night time meant monsters.
Snapping out of his awe at the beauty of the sunset, he sprinted forwards, jumping-and landing neatly behind his savior. For his first time mounting a horse, he wasn’t sure how he had done it, especially in his weak condition. Ruse assumed he was all of a sudden natural at this. How he was, he was again not sure. Once upon the back of the horse-Which was incredibly comfortable to him-he grabbed onto Stonecutters’ waist in front of him and wearily rested his head on his newfound friends’ cold armored back, staring out into the sunset as his eyes adjusted to it. Stonecutter smiled and lightly kicked the steed into a gallop towards the distant village.
The Greifer’s War In the Perspective of Hunter
A Fan-Fic by Summer S.
I impatiently gazed into an empty room, Gameknight999 should of gotten here by now. He was late. Suddenly, a ball of light appeared and Gameknight came with it. The room we designed was meant for Gameknight to spawn.
Long story short, Gameknight and the crew left Crafter’s server in search of adventure. We found a village in wreckage, and there were two brothers underneath the wood. Smithy and Blacky. The looked exactly alike, so we gave one a gold sword and one a gold sword and a wooden pickaxe. Smithy only had one weapon. We found a flat area and we built a base and a backup bases to sleep in and hide if needed.
I tossed Gameknight his diamond gear and diamond swords. He pulled on his iron pants and boots, the rest was diamond.
“Thanks, Hunter. Um. There’s a problem.” Gameknight said, his voice trembling.
“What!” I exclaimed. Gameknight rarely is scared, telling me this was a serious problem.
“It’s Grief Week in the physical world. A bunch of griefers get together and destroy a server.”
“I found the server IP address. It’s this one. The coordinates match the ones in the front of the fortress. I was in Grief Week once. We crashed the server and there was no land anyway. All water and air. No villagers either.” Gameknight said.
“They play in survival. They respawn. They re-stock. They fight again. They repeat. Mackerel668 is leading the army. He is my neighbor. His fighting tactics are simple. He will shoot arrows from the back, then hit his own troops with his bad aim. Hopefully he hasn’t changed much.”
“Oh.” I said. “We better warn everybody to be ready. Go grab Chestnut. Saddle her up. Me and Stitcher will be in the towers. Crafter will work with the TNT cannon.” Gameknight took off, and I left to grab Stitcher.
Chestnut was our horse. Since we only had one, Gameknight was always the rider. Crafter had built a TNT cannon. We were low on gunpowder, so he only had 4 pieces to work with.
“Stitcher!” I yelled. My sister ran over to me. I explained Grief Week, and how we needed to prepare. She nodded.
“I will get more arrows.” Stitcher said. She ran off.
Suddenly, I remembered Herder. I ran over to him and explained why we needed him. He had one wolf (Wolfie), a ocelot (Ocey), an Iron Golem (Iry), and a Snow Golem that liked warm weather (Bella).
“Ocey, Wolfie, Iry, Bella, come here! He called. His four friends were over in a second.
“Hunter, you are right. We need all hands -and paws- on deck. This is worth it.” Herder rushed off, and his team went with him. When each member was added to the team, they were given a job. Bella had all Nether mobs under her belt, while Ocey had creepers. Wolfie had skeletons, and Iry took care of the rest. If there were no skeletons, Iry and Wolfie were a tight team, and they always looked out for each other. I assumed with mostly users, they would be a team again.
I searched for Gameknight through all the chaos and trouble. The twins were running around, adding simple defenses to the lawn in front of the fortress. Smithy’s favorite was the 6-block-deep hole. Usually, multiple mobs (in this case, users) would fall in, and they can’t dig or place blocks because the others in the hole would be in the way.
Blacky liked tripwires equipped with arrow dispensers. They were annoying if you had armor, but if not, fatal. Smithy would then put his holes, known as Sixes, in front of the tripwires so the users cannot jump over them. Sometimes, Sixes were made with lava at the bottom. This would speed up the process.
After the Sixes were done, I walked up to the blacksmiths. “Guys, we needs dirt walls here and there. 3 by 3 should be good enough. Just to confuse them.” I assigned.
“Okay!” Smithy replied, and the brothers took off, making the walls.
I readied my bow, notching an arrow. Holding the weapon firmly in my hand, I ran over to Gameknight, who was discussing something with Stitcher.
“Hunter! Right on time!” We need you and Stitcher to-” Gameknight was interrupted by a small villager running toward the fortress. “Help! HELP!” he yelled, causing Digger to turn his head. He was talking with Crafter. Suddenly, the villager fell to ground, out of breath. Digger ran over to pick up the young boy. He carried him over to Gameknight, then set him down on the grass.
The boy looked up at Gameknight and said ” I’m Watcher, and my village has been destroyed by a group of about 50 users. The leader was on a horse in the back. His name was Mackerel, or something like that.”
“Watcher, I am Hunter. This is Gameknight, Digger, and Crafter. Over here is Stitcher, and out in the field is Smithy and Blacky, and Blacky has the pickaxe.” I said. I switched my gaze Gameknight. “One more warrior never hurt anybody.”
“Hunter, your right.” Gameknight said. He looked down at Watcher. “What is your best weapon?”
Gameknight tossed him an iron pickaxe, and Watcher caught it with one hand.
“You should play baseball.” Gameknight said.
Watcher looked up at him, confused.
“Never mind.” Gameknight said, but I knew that it was a sport in the physical world.
Watcher pushed himself up, and practiced swinging his pickaxe. His small form was a blur as he swung, narrowly missing Stitcher’s head. I pulled her closer to me, letting the small villager rush through the opening.
“Watcher, you have remarkable skill with that tool!” Crafter said, stepping over to the panting boy.
Considering he almost hit my sister, I ignored the praise he was getting and pulled on my armor. Stitcher followed me into the fortress, and we each climbed into a separate tower. At the front of the fortress, two archer towers had been built for us, in which we were standing.
As I looked down on the group, I noticed Digger standing apart from the group, looking ashamed and grim. Then he turned and trudged away. Stitcher looked over to me, obviously watching the same scene as me. I watched Digger sit down and set down his pickaxes next to him.
I looked over to Stitcher, and said “Digger is mad someone else is good with a pickaxe. Tell him to show off.”
Stitcher looked down the battle tower and said to Digger below: “Hey Digger, how about you show off to the group. That will show them.”
Digger looked up and smiled, then grabbed his pickaxes and jumped up.
“Hey Watcher, you want to see my pickaxe skills?” Digger offered.
Not waiting for a reply, he leaped into action, slicing the air and throwing himself toward Watcher, who was watching in amazement. Digger threw a pickaxe high in the air, sliced a blade of grass with his other one, then caught the first one and triumphantly held it in the air.
“Digger I…” Watcher said, but didn’t continue his sentence, as everyone began to clap for Digger’s show.
Watcher waited for the clapping to end, then said: “Digger, we should work together. Pickaxe and Pickaxes. We could save people…And this world.”
Digger didn’t even look at the boy. “That could work.”
“GAMEKNIGHT!!!!!! THEIR ON THE HORIZON! LET’S GO!!!!” Stitcher yelled, and readied her bow. I did as well, and quickly, below us, Gameknight had guided the group into a formation, and swords and pickaxes were drawn. By now, Smithy and Blacky had retreated to the group, Gameknight had mounted Chestnut, Herder had collected his friends, and got them into the formation.
“Gameknight, does Mackerel know you won’t be on his side?” I shouted to him.
“No, and hopefully that will help. But they will respawn, so we have to work hard.”
“How will we survive if they can respawn?” I asked, hoping his answer won’t be idiotic.
“Well, the easiest way to handle this is for you to get off the server and me to undigitize and delete the server, but I won’t do that. Another way is to kill them over and over again until all their armor breaks, almost impossible. The best way is to switch it so they can’t respawn, and we need a command block for that. Or, I could use a command.”
“Gameknight, if you do that, will they be kicked from the server when they die?” Crafter asked, waiting for the swarm to arrive.
Gameknight didn’t say anything. He was trying to switch the command. Finally, he looked at Crafter and nodded. “Let’s do this!”
The Griefers were about 100 blocks away when our side rushed forward, swinging blades and ducking under attacks. Me and Stitcher were firing a volley of arrows, aiming for one target at a time to take them out. We killed 4 or 5 before the front lines got to close to aim at. We both aimed for the troops around Mackerel, knowing Mackerel was armored better then the rest. All had to do was guide Stitcher to a target and fire.
We killed about 10 users before we had to aim closer to the fortress to help our side. We had expected about 50, but we got 150. By the looks of it, our team had killed about a third of the griefers, which was good. Only 100 left.
Me and Stitcher were too focused to break, so we were a whirlwind of arrows and a song of bowstrings. Me and Stitcher hadn’t taken a single bit of damage, because the warriors either didn’t have bows or were too focused on Gameknight and the other melee fighters to hit us. Or they didn’t care.
Me and Stitcher fired enough arrows to supply 50 skeletons for a lifetime. Arrow after arrow, griefer after griefer, death after death. We were winning, now there were only about 75 griefers left, and the numbers were shrinking by the moment.
With less and less, the griefers were putting less and less effort into the battle. Instead of dodging arrows, they calmly let themselves get hit, and they seemed to care less about where they were.
The only one not to follow this suit was Mackerel668. He sat on his steed with anger, glaring at Gameknight across the battlefield. He shoved his own forward, letting them take damage if they fell.
The lava Sixes proved effective. Many users had been killed from them. I glanced around the area, looking for a new target. I found one, and me and Stitcher let a volley of arrows, destroying him in seconds. The field was a litter of items and XP, and with only about 10 users left, our success was almost guaranteed. Now, me and Stitcher aimed at Mackerel.
“Girls, stop!” Gameknight called, as he killed the last of the users. “I have to talk to him.”
“What, Gamenoob?” Mackerel said.
“Us. We were friends. When you saw me defending the NPCs, who are my friends, I could see you fight harder. Were you scared? Were you mad? Why?” Gameknight said, anger pulsing in his voice. “Answer ME!!!”
“We never were friends. That was an act to get you on our team. You were a record griefer. We wanted you. So us griefer faked you, and now, we shall duel, for the best gamer title.”
“Mackerel, no gamer would let his troops fight while he sat in the background, letting them die! You are not a gamer! You will always be a griefer!” Gameknight yelled. “Girls! Fire!”
We let a volley of arrows fall on Mackerel, being careful not to hit his horse. He glared at Gameknight. But he couldn’t stop his doom. He went up in smoke, and his items spilled out into the horse.
“Yes!!!” Crafter exclaimed. I leaped off the tower into a pool of water at the bottom. I gave Gameknight a tight hug, then pulled away. But I found him giving me a small kiss.