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.”

“So?”

“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?”

“Pickaxe.”

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. 

I smiled.

THE END