The Suicide and The Gift
A/N: Ahhh, god. The dust in here is killing me. It's been a while. Feel free to pelt me with thing. Nothing? Shame... Anyway, I'm here with a one-shot, cause I suck at commitment. This is partly a tribute to the wonderful Mellifluous who inspired me to start writing. Of course, she's not around here much any more. Really is a shame... EtHU was a great series. Is a great series. She'll be back. Nothing stops her writing. Anyway, greetings... I really don't know what to say. Nobody on here will probably remember me. I left the MC archives some time after it became infested with amateurs writing about Youtubers. It really was heartbreaking. I mean Youtubers are cool and all, but when people add themselves to the story, it detracts from the story... Anyway, I'm not back here to bring up the past.
Disclaimer: If you don't know that I don't own anything, please contact your nearest 24/7 Call Centre. We'll happily take your call. :P
Enough blathering. Enjoy.
There's tension in the air as the sun falls. The land herself holds her breath as the danger mounts. Even the animals know to flee when the great flaming orbs tires. You're either stupid or suicidal to stay out after sunset.
He's probably the latter. After all, he has nothing to live for. Ever since the destruction of his home and family by a band of bandits, planting TNT and fire everywhere, he'd become dead inside. Those responsible had suffered. Now, his heart yearned for his lost wife and daughter, claimed, not by the fire and explosions, but by the monsters of the night.
Night fell and the moon rose casting light over his last night on this beautiful world. Footfalls shuffled and bones clattered as the dead came for him. Willing to die as he was, he couldn't let go without a fight. He'd take some of these bastards with him.
With slow deliberate movements, he drew his sword from his shoulder sheath. Lifeless, animated bodies stumbled out of the trees. Clanking, rattling figures lurked beneath the trees fitting arrows into their bows.
It was from these ghastly archers that the first attack came. With the barest grunt of exertion, he deflected the whistling agent of death and it thinker into the ground behind him. Then the corpses were upon him, snarling, drooling, angry corpses with a taste for his flesh. With ease he began to fend them off, but even he took bites and scratches form the horde before him.
His vision began to dim and took on a red tinge as he began to move closer to the threshold of deaths door. The occasional arrow hung from him and blood rolled down his arms and neck from where the zombies had savaged him.a final arrow took him in the arm as he took out the last of the slow moving Zombie Horde. But the troupe of Skeletons bombarding him with arrows.
Even as he waited there was a lull in the constant hail of arrows. Instctively he knew to dive to the left to avoid being turned into a pincushion. He'd been flanked by a troop of Skeletons and their Zero-range shot just barely missed him. As he dove, he angled his dive towards the archers, his sword turning one of them to dust, vengeful spirit released.
His dive had place him right in the middle of the skeletons, where it was too dangerous for them to fire their bows. They tried to retreat, primal instincts taking hold. The the power that held them together was slow, the man much faster. In what seemed to be a whirlwind to the skeletons the man tore apart their ranks. He received several scratches from Zombies behind him, but he wasn't even fazed. He simply spun around and decapitated those closest to him.
A bzzt noise came from nearby. An Enderman had stumbled upon the scene. It gave a small noise of surprise. Then as the man disemboweled another Zombie it's surprise turned to rage. He was convinced that he could hear the human laughing. Some of the Zombies close to the man seemed to sense the Ender's rage and moved back from the man.
The man himself seemed oblivious to the Enderman's presence, let alone his rage. As the Zombies moved back, he rested his hands on his knees, sword out of guard position.
The attack took him completely off-guard. Claws, about 2 inches long sank into his stomach, lacerating it fatally. A right hook to his face tore open his face and threw him backwards. The man managed to keep his feet though and charged his new attacker, who teleported behind him a launched a savage roundhouse kick, capable of taking off his head, had it still been there. But it wasn't. As soon as the Enderman had teleported, man had ducked and the kick passed harmlessly over his head. With a flourish of his blade, he knocked the Enderman down and removed his leg. The enraged scream almost deafened the man, not that it really would've mattered, as he was almost bleeding out. With a final effort, he plunged his blade into the cranium of the Enderman, destroying it's heart and killing it. The Ender Pearl that allowed Endermen to teleport detached from its place in the throat of the Enderman and rolled out, just as the man sank to his knees. Seeing him dying, the undead lost interest and shambled away. As he began to pass into the void, his hand found the dropped Ender Pearl and clutched it tightly, his soul slipping from its mortal bindings.
The next day the body was found by a woodsman. The unidentified man was buried with the full honors given to a warrior who has fallen in battle. Not many people killed an Enderman. And of those who had, none had survived. Neither had this man, but he had provided something that no-one else had, something vital. An Ender Pearl, and the body of an Enderman. Now their mysteries could be unraveled. And that would probably save the world.