Hello people. Now that I've done a few MLP fan fictions, how about something else for a while? Goldenponyboy presents to you It's A Mob's Life: Minecraft. This will be the first of a series of such stories. So, let's just hop into it with I Was Here First! THE FIC IS THE THING!
We weren't always like this. We were once known as the Guardians. We used to lay down our lives for the Villagers, protecting them from the Zombies, Skeletons, and Pigmen, before they were sent to the Nether.
But that was years ago, back when we had this description: we were the tallest of all the Mobs in Minecraftia, colored a pleasing shade of emerald green, four long legs, and two muscle-bound arms.
We had lived in harmony with the other Mobs for the most part. That is, until the witches came. They promised us immortality, strength, power beyond comprehension. We believed them, and for the outrageous price of twenty gold each, we paid for the elixir that they claimed was the answer.
Collectively, our whole Mob drank, and the effect was instantaneous. We let out a collective howl as our arms vanished, our legs were reduced to stubby feet, and our skin dulled in color..
We tried to get an antidote, or at least a refund, but the witches were nowhere to be found. Every hut that had been there just the day before vanished without a trace. The whole night we searched for them, but our attempts were failed when the sun rose, lighting half of our Mob on fire.
Those of us that escaped hid in caves and the shade of forests. The elixir destroyed our tolerance of our beloved star of the day, under which we won many battles.
When the moon rose, we attempted to go back to our positions as protectors of the Villagers. But when we tried to speak, hissing was the only thing heard. We were not recognized by our old friends, and they ran into their houses, hiding from the new monsters of the land.
We were shunned by all. All but the Zombies and Skeletons. They took pity on us and went into battle with us. Our honor was destroyed, but did we care? No. We were foolish. We wanted revenge on those that neglected us.
Our lives went on like this for many generations, until he came. Steve. The great destroyer. At first it was small, reasonable things, like dirt, trees, and stone. But soon, it began to grow. He went deep into the mines, collecting iron, gold, and coal. He made armor and tools for himself. He stole the sheep's wool, the cow's milk, and slaughtered pigs, cows, and chickens.
We restrained ourselves for a while, until he reached the village. At first, all was fine. He traded with the villagers and slept amongst them. That's when we attempted to speak with him. But again, our voices failed us for hissing.
He didn't run like the villagers though, and this gave us hope. Maybe he would accept us. Maybe he would be our redemption from our new form. But still, we were here first, and we couldn't allow him to continue his destruction of the land.
However, instead of holding our his hand in peace, he held out his sword in war. He slew some of us with utmost speed. The rest of us withdrew and ran into the woods and caves. There was no stopping him. Steve was just too strong for us.
The next night however, we came up with a new plan. Some of our scouts went out to learn where Steve lived. Once discovered, we hid some of ourselves in strategic locations in the house. Our reasoning was simple: he killed us, we would make his stay short and miserable.
One of the scouts learned a disturbing secret of the new resident of the land. In a chest in his house, he had stockpiled explosives, made with the essence of our Mob. Though it sickened us greatly, this added to the plan. With great difficulty, we placed the blocks around the house, hidden as well.
When Steve returned to his house and placed his supplies in a chest, he turned around to a great surprise. He looked at our soldiers, then scrambled for his sword. But he was too late. The soldiers used the power the elixir had promised them, the power to explode.
The house was obliterated, with everyone that was in it. We lost good soldiers that day, but we killed the enemy. Or so we thought.
The next night, our scouts learned that, even though he was destroyed, Steve was discovered in the snow biome. Our attempt had been in vain.
No, not in vain. We discovered that, to our own enjoyment, that he could be killed. Several times. We could kill him as many times as we wanted. We were here first, and we will continue to protect our land.
Even if our own lives are forfeit.
Story complete. Okay, I know, this was short. And these are going to all be somewhat short in length. They're just going to be my own personal back stories on the Mobs in Minecraft. So R&R and ADIOS!