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The Continuation of the Mark of the Enderman

“Do you know of any nearby dungeon?”  Gameknight asked Morgana. The witch sighed in exasperation. “Finally! You’re getting there. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask me that! I’ve forgotten how innocent and oblivious villagers are!”

The NPCs looked at both of them, from one face to another, unsure if he had just been insulted or complimented.  Eventually, they decided the latter. “There’s a treble dungeon about forty-five blocks deep somewhere in this swamp. When I first got here I found it and I use it for XP farming. But then, something went wrong and the farm exploded. I managed to cover it up, but it would never be used again. I think there’s some melons in there. I might have used them for healing potions.”

Gameknight took an iron sword out of his inventory. “Let’s do this!”

He and a group of about fourteen NPCs crawled through a small tunnel. After years of climate and weather, water had eroded the soil to reveal a small cramped gap leading straight to the dungeon. If they had the coordinates, they could possibly have built a more comfortable passage, but thanks to the witch’s forgetfulness, they were all sweaty and hot.

“How did Grassbrin and Treebrin get infected?” Gameknight asked curiously. The NPCs suddenly had a grim look. “It was our first time facing an Enchanted Enderman. They were targeting Farmer. Treebrin, one of Farmer’s good friends saw and tried to help. It was too late, but Treebrin dived in front of Farmer and – and…”

The NPC burst into tears. “The enderman’s hand cut straight to the bone, I mean, the root. Treebrin started bleeding sap, and Doctor bandaged it for him. We tried everything. Morgana’s potions delayed the infection, but it didn’t last. In the end, we had to chase him out. Farmer – he could not bear it any longer – he tried to stop them – the NPCs. Digger slammed a shovel into his skull so hard, he died instantaneously.

Gameknight instinctively patted the NPC’s back as he sobbed. The others carried a grave look on their faces. Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to fall – a map glitch when gravel is spawned in the air. The ground gave way and they fell into a deep ravine.

There were hundreds of groans coming from the monsters that inhabited the ravine and its many labyrinth-like passageways, but that wasn’t what scared Gameknight. It was the fact that the ravine was so obviously manmade. The side were perfectly straight, the chambers a square hole. It reminded Gameknight of a beehive that he learnt about in Science lesson.

“Each hole in a beehive is exactly the same as the next. They’re perfect shapes, and all identical. We do not know how this happens, but scientists have theories. The bee’s body is used to shape it? But each bee has a different size and shape. It is a mystery – such is the power of nature.”

Gameknight was so caught up in his memories, he didn’t notice it – the approaching skeleton army. About a thousand skeletons, ranging in rank from infantry to brigadier generals, some on horse and others on foot, or rather bone, and at the head sat Fewd, the skeleton king.

Gameknight gasped in horror. “I thought you gave up! What made you turn against us?” He shouted at the king. The king’s voice, once a clattering sound was guttural and primal.

“That was once before, when we were outnumbered and…” The skeleton king shuddered, as if possessed, and continued. “Without the help of Herobrine. We were convinced so utterly by those sunflower zombies that we gave up. Then.” Gameknight was not convinced.

Did anything happen between then and now? Gameknight asked himself. He ran through his minecraft memories again and again, and something caught his eye, but it wasn’t from Minecraft. It was in reality, while reading a magazine, PC Daily. The latest 1.9 Minecraft Update!

Somehow, Marcus Persson’s team managed to reprogram the mobs to make them more ferocious than ever – and this time, with every inch of peace sucked out. He had thought that the update only applied to boats, and the End. He was so caught up that he didn’t realise that the skeleton army was approaching and his fellow NPCs were looking at him for orders. After all, he was the User-that-is-not-a-user.

 

Subject: The Continuation of the Mark of the Enderman 2

Hundreds of bones – some gnawed clean, some still with decaying flesh hanging on them, some broken, others ivory-white, closed in from all sides. Gameknight looked around, bewildered. What was he going to do? How was he going to escape from such a bony situation?

Then, he caught glimpse of a lost horse, possibly wandering around the cave system, with a saddle on. Gameknight borrowed a bow from one of the NPCs and shot the horse. He wasn’t aiming for the horse. The arrow was a grappling hook, like the one that brought him into the village. The horse saw his opportunity, and jumped on it. Literally. Its slid down the rope and Gameknight quickly got on. He took out his iron sword, and already he felt invincible.

The next few minutes were used to crush skeletons. His horse broke lines and Gameknight picked the skeletons off easily as they confusedly looked around. The other villagers burst with renewed energy and fought the beasts off. When there was only about nine skeletons left, Fewd knew that he had been defeated. He whipped his skeleton horse, turned, and rode off into the distance.

Gameknight wiped the sweat off his brow. He’ll be back once he gathered an army again. We have to hurry. They found the spawners and broke them using pickaxes, then quickly gathered a few melons from the chests and piled back up.

Morgana was waiting back at the hut. “How did it go? What took you so long?” Gameknight told her what happened. She listened attentively and scratched her chin.

“No, no! This shouldn’t be happening! They tunnelled straight under the swamp? I put powerful magical boundaries around it in a three hundred block radius. It is what I feared. Skeletonbrine has been up to no good. Two days ago, somebody stole a Terraspell potion. It must have been him or one of his minions.” Her face paled.

Then she glanced at their confused expressions and said. “Terraspell potions are used to resist any spells. It lasts for only a short while, but it is extremely powerful. If the brines have access to such power, we are indeed in great trouble.”

“Is there a way to solve it?” Gameknight asked. Morgana’s face suddenly paled and her eyes were filled with fear. “No, please, no! Don’t send me back there!”

“Yes, there’s a way. In the Far Biome, which is located near the ends of a finite world, there is a fortress. The Witch’s Fortress of Brewing and Enchanting. It’s where lightning-struck NPCs go for education. It is extremely strict – if you fail, you are killed.”

“I-I was one of the last. I barely kept my head out of the sand, but one day… They took me to the dungeon to test experimental potions. They tortured me… I escaped, just barely, with them on my tail. I lost them when I left the Far biome, and I settled down here. They work wonders — they could possible know a solution. But for all I know, they might still have me on their list.”

It was the first time Gameknight heard fear in Morgana’s voice. He patted her back. Just then, a messenger NPC arrived. “User-that-is-not-a-user? Crafter has arrived at the village. When he heard that you were here, he wanted to see you.” The messenger panted heavily.

“Tell him I’ll be right there.” The messenger rushed off, and Gameknight turned to Morgana. “Don’t worry, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Morgana whispered back. “But what if we’re already there?”

________________________________________________________________________________

The cavern was musty and mouldy. The stink of Elder Mushrooms still hung in the air, though they had long been gone. The small and hidden cave system’s entrance was located in the Mushroom Biome. A deep and hoarse voice resounded from inside.

“Fewd has failed yet again. He will have one more chance to prove himself. One weak link in a strong chain makes the chain obsolete. I will have my revenge.” An old NPC, hunched over with a balding head and a long beard limped out. He climbed up quartz stairs and stood at the podium, above the over a thousand brines that had gathered.

“I am Warlock Brine, the most powerful of all Brines. I am more powerful than Herobrine, why, I created him! He may have powers beyond my knowledge, if what he says are true, but he is foolish and has been defeated many times by that much wiser User-that-is-not-a-user.”

“Still, one defeat is a defeat, two is a coincidence. Three is an insult, and four – that’s a deathmatch. However, foolish Herobrine is, he is still a brine. The User-that-is-not-a-user has challenged us, and I accept. This time, we will win!”

The result of the following standing ovation was deafening. Warlock Brine laughed evilly into the cave.

________________________________________________________________________________

Gameknight woke up with a start. He looked around confused. He could have sworn that he had been in a cave, with a Warlock Brine or something like that. He brushed it off lightly. It was possible that  it was just his mind playing tricks on him – any lesser player would have been shocked by the burden put on him, but not Gameknight.

He enjoyed it fully – only Shawny would probably be able to handle it, but Gameknight would enjoy the adventure and journey. Like an adventure map, he reminded himself. One of those he played. Then again, he mostly griefed maps, and hardly played them. How far he had come was another reminder to Gameknight.

I will never stoop so low again, vowed Gameknight. A knock on the door shook him from his thoughts. “Come in!” Gameknight shouted. The door swept open and a cold wind brushed past him, materialising into an old man. No, the old man – the one he had saw in a dream.

“Your challenge is accepted.” It said in a hoarse voice, before it disappeared. Gameknight immediately knew that it wasn’t a dream – he had to take action and fast. He remembered one of those kiddy seminars that told you to list things and decided on the best course of action.

It has seemed kiddy then, but now, it was good advice. Gameknight asked for a book and quill, and the NPC didn’t bat an eye at the strange request. In the blocky font of Minecraft, he wrote:

Mark of the Enderman (Enchanted Enderman)
Terraspell Potion (Brine)
Deathmatch (Warlock Brine)

The solutions to all of them pointed to the Far Biome. He knew Morgana wouldn’t be happy with his decision.

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