A/N: This is my first fanfiction! It might be lame, and if you think it is and are nice enough to point out my errors, then please do so via a review or PM. If you want to submit an OC, the form is at the bottom of the story. Your OC might not get in though, length of entry may determine who gets in as well as originality. Good luck!

Read and (maybe) enjoy! The next scheduled update will be on the 3rd of February, but due to the different timezones ad the fact that I need to write the chapter I'd recommend you submit your OC's on the 1st.

Disclaimer: The only things that belong to me are Ferivell and its surroundings including the Derider Forest, and the Glades.

UPDATE: Some heavy editing on this chapter. The storyline hasn't changed, but in my opinion it just flows a bit more. Just give this story a second chance, please.

Chapter One- Uprising

It was completely dark outside when the final block was put in place.

Hissing in satisfaction, the green-skinned creature pulled out his flint and tinder and lit the inside of the structure, then stepped back, prepared to run if he needed to. Any observer would have expected the inside of the obsidian structure to burst into flames, but instead the structure's inside blinked into a ghastly purple shade. The creeper retreated to a safe distance. The only sound then heard was the moaning of the creatures on the other side of the portal and outside of the cave.

A zombie shuffled up to the creeper's side, who swelled up dangerously before realising who it was. "Zombie Bossss," it hissed derisively. "How nice of you to ssssshow up now, after all the hard work hassss been done." The contempt was heard clearly in the creeper's malicious voice.

The zombie stiffened up even more than it had been before. "I made the diamond pick and mined the obsidian!" it whined. "You had nothing to do except assemble the blocks in place!"

"It'sssss very hard to lift sssso many obssssidian blocksss. The masssster will reward me generoussssly."

"But…"

"Be quiet. I hear sssssssssomething coming."

The creeper's sharp ears served him right. There seemed to be some kind of rustling on the other side of the portal, like somebody walking on grass. But there was no grass in the Nether, only Netherrack and glowstone and unnecessary amounts of lava. Only a human could've placed grass in hell, and no human would ever willingly go there unless they wished to die. The Nether was basically a series of claustrophobic caverns, glowing with glowstone-light and filled with gigantic fire-breathing floating jellyfish, weird creatures which looked like zombies and pigs combined, and other hellish mobs.

But who said anything about having to willingly go into the Nether?

In Minecraftia, centuries ago, the cult leader Israphel had been imprisoned in the Nether by two Skylords, Xephos and Honeydew. All the heroes from that age had already left the Overworld for the Minecraft heaven, the Aether, and their story had been passed on and on as an ancient legend. Now Minecraftia was a sunny, happy place, with hardworking villiagers all around, nomads serving as the entertainers and guards, and a substantially less amount of thieves and pickpockets because of the cheerfulness of the place, though the night creatures still roamed the land as they always had.

The portal shimmered for a moment and the two mob bosses held their breaths almost comically. A shadow flickered angrily at the edge of the cave, hidden from view, before it slipped behind the cave mouth and disappeared.

A pale white figure emerged from the depths of the portal seconds later. He looked around curiously at his surroundings, before taking in where they were, and he seemed to find something amusing, because his hideous black creeper's mouth somehow twisted itself into a sneer. His bone-white face nodded at the two, surveying their appearance.

The sight would've made anyone quake in their shoes. The mysterious figure was so horrendous in appearance that even the two Bosses had to avert their eyes. Their supposed leader didn't seem to notice though, because he started to talk in a strange, hissing voice with a brisk accent.

"How fitting," he whispered maliciously, "for the ruins of the first home of the heroes to be the place where their worst enemy escapes his dreaded prison."

It was a cold, blistery morning that day in Ferivell as Attila woke up. She closed her eyes again, pulling the blankets over her head in an attempt to block out the cold. It didn't work, so the brunette wearily stretched and rubbed her eyes. Then she finally decided to leave the warmth of her bed. Slinging a jacket around her shoulders, she stuffed her feet into some warm slippers before making her way to the door, stumbling and tripping numerous times. She paused and glanced in the mirror, taking some time to hurriedly brush her shoulder-length hair and part it at the top. She smiled at herself uncertainly, her blue-gray eyes lighting up her teenage-yet-innocent face.

Nobody was in the kitchen when she arrived, so she poured herself some cereal, added milk, and started eating. It tasted good, and it saved her the trouble of having to drink a glass of milk- Attila hated milk unless it was with cereal, and she hated cereal unless it was with milk. The two made a good combination, she decided. She put the now-empty dish into the sink and made her way to the back door, which led to the woods surrounding Ferivell. Out of sheer boredom, her feet found her travelling the familiar paths through the forest.

She passed the house's boundary line and continued to trek on a wide path that she knew would take her to a place known as The Patch, a glade where four-leaf clovers seemed to grow as if by magic. Scanning the ground in front of her, Attila couldn't find any four-leaved clovers today. Disappointed, she sat down on a log, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them. It was unusually cold today, cold even for England, but the skies were clear. Nobody was expecting any snow today, which was fortunate, because Attila was already half frozen.

Ferivell, an English village which dated back to the Middle Ages, was surrounded on three sides by the Derider Forest. The village was relatively small, having a population of only around two thousand people, which mostly consisted of medieval fans looking for a place to live with nice scenery. The bandits around town drove many people away from the scenic town, but Attila loved it there. Even though she only had had a few lessons with a knife, she was fairly sure she could defend herself if she needed to.

Attila rose from her log and continued exploring the woods. Without really noticing where she was going, she stumbled on some thorns. "Owww…" she muttered. She rubbed her leg absentmindedly, her breath misting the air. She had heard there were some tourists in town- she would have to take them on a tour later. Her mum worked as a tour guide part-time, and as a chore Attila had to keep the kids of the visiting families entertained and safe. She had a look around the pine forest.

Then she noticed where she was. Her face paled quickly and abruptly, and she sat down quickly again, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.

-Flashback-

"Come on, Attila!" twelve-year-old Ethan Glade yelled over the babble of the creek nearby. He waited impatiently for his younger sister to catch up before complaining loudly, "You're too slow! I could've run ages and you'd still be at The Patch."

"But you're older than me," Attila protested. Her legs were aching from running so far and so fast. "And Mummy told us to not go past that stream and look, you did! I'm telling!" In reality, she was just looking for an excuse to stop running, she was so tired.

Ethan laughed. "I didn't go past the stream yet! We're just past The Patch, remember? This isn't even the stream! The real stream is, like, ages away from here!" Attila, finally remembering that this was, in fact, the brook which snaked its way around The Patch, scowled. "Promise you won't run any more," she pouted.

"Fine… hey, sis, c'mere and look at this!" Attila ran over to where Ethan was standing in front of a tussle of a kind of thorny plant. "I'm sure there's something hiding here, do you want to look?"

"I don't know… the spiky things hurt. Remember when Ricky poked me and Claire with one?"

"Errr… no. But I'm looking anyway."

Attila grabbed her brother's arm and tried to pull him away from the thorns. "Something bad's in there!" she whimpered. "I can feel it!" But Ethan just snorted and pulled apart the thorns.

"Wow, Tilly," he breathed.

Curious, Attila crept over to where Ethan was standing, then recoiled. "Ethan, don't go in there! Bad stuff are there!" In front of her was a rocky rectangle-shaped portal which was glowing on the inside. "We should tell Mummy!"

"Don't be stupid, this is obviously a prank- whoa!"

At that moment, he stepped into the portal, and a white light enveloped him. "Ethan… come out!" Attila begged, frightened. But then her brother's shape began to shimmer, then disappeared.

Attila took off through the woods for her home.

-End Flashback-

Slowly lifting up the thorns, Attila looked inside. The portal was still there.

Suddenly, rough voices filled the air.

So, here's the OC form! Fill it out the best you can and send it to me via review or PM!

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