AN: Currently downloading Pokemon Arceus Legends. Will tell you guys about it later on Discord.
This Chapter took a bit of finetuning, exceeding 10,000 words. Made me realize we're getting pretty close to 2 million word count for this story (*cough* despite the Inventory List taking up a good chunk of that *cough cough*).
Now, let's continue with the Stigmata Arc.
Tentative Viewer: What does any of this have to with the Stigmata?
Excellent question. What does any of this have to do with the Stigmata? I mean, it's called the Stigmata Arc, so it must be connected, right? Or maybe there's another reason it's called the Stigmata Arc. After all, a stigma is a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person.
Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I'd make the Wardens drop something.
Chapter 203
Sidesplitter
[Endward Cult Northern HQ]
Lieutenant Leadstripe walked down stone brick corridors heated by veins of lava in the floor. The Northern HQ had just finished repairing the hole in their Head Depository caused by that giant Hybrid's rampage. It was a testament to the strength of becoming a Hybrid, and Leadstripe was glad the cult was making progress on that. Abyssmal supposedly had a specialist amassing cursed discs in the east.
However, Leadstripe had serious business to attend to in the north. His master, Executive Sdrawkcab, had made a personal request.
Leadstripe found the door to 4Blite's office and was about to knock before a voice stopped him.
"He's not in."
Leadstripe turned and saw a female Crafter with midnight blue hair drop from the ceiling. Mox. She had apparently wedged herself there so as to be concealed in the shadows.
Leadstripe narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "Were you just waiting there hoping someone would knock?"
"Irrelevant." She dismissed quickly. "You're looking for 4Blite?"
"Yes. Are you among his subdivision?" The Lieutenant asked. "If so, do you know when he'll be back? My Executive had a message for him."
"Oh? Do tell."
Leadstripe turned away. "It's for his ears only. My Executive swore this to secrecy."
"And how is King Sdrawkcab these days, hm?"
Leadstripe's eyes snapped open and in one swift motion he grabbed Mox by the arm and spun her into the wall, pinning her there with his dagger at her neck. Her head was titled up, her eyes lidded and indifferent at the position.
"How do you know his name?" Leadstripe hissed under his breath. "My Executive's identity is known only by the Lieutenants and Executives! Who told you!? Was it 4Blite?"
"Hardly. I just know things." She said calmly despite the dagger biting into her flesh.
"You just know one of the cult's most closely guarded secrets?" Leadstripe asked skeptically.
"I know a lot of things in the west." She smirked. "Like, for example, a story about a thief in Exter, caught stealing and sentenced to twenty years in the hole, a dark, confined, claustrophobic hellspace of obsidian in which the only human contact he experienced were the meals delivered through a narrow grate once a week, and if he didn't make it last, he'd starve to-"
Mox choked to a stop as the dagger at her neck was pressed more forcefully. The Lieutenant had a cold look in his eyes at the specific example Mox used.
"Okay. You know a lot." Leadstripe conceded, his voice shaking slightly before he got it under control. "Though you don't know enough when to shut up. Or when to draw your weapon before getting pinned."
"She has me for that." A new, male voice stated before a large, strong hand closed around Leadstripe's upper arm. Leadstripe hadn't heard him approach, and now he was at a disadvantage. "You wanna release her or do I have to break your arm?"
"Don't touch me!" Leadstripe shouted on impulse. He hated people getting into his personal space. He made to yank his arm back, but the mysterious man didn't let him.
There was no way Leadstripe could reverse positions and remove the man gripping his arm while also keeping Mox pinned. Either Mox would retaliate or he'd have a broken arm. Weighing his options in an instant, Leadstripe removed the dagger from Mox's neck and lowered his arms. The man behind him released his grip and allowed the Lieutenant to step back.
The man was named Xx-Brand_Unforseen-xX, with wild, white hair, brass eyes, and a crimson red trench jacket. Everybody just called him Brandeen for short.
"Don't ever touch me again." He said to Brandeen before addressing Mox. "You need to understand that the knowledge you so casually let slip is a closely guarded secret. People have been butchered for knowing as much." Leadstripe warned.
"We're all on the same side." Mox stepped beside her companion, Brandeen. The two were clearly stacking against Leadstripe in case he thought to start something. "Come now, where's the trust?"
"I'd trust the hole in the Lacquerlands I'd leave you in."
"Don't project your fears onto others. I'm not the least bit claustrophobic." Mox spoke idly.
"How do you know so much about me?"
"Like I said, I know a lot of things in the west, and what I don't know, I strive to uncover." She folded her arms. "Which is why I want to uncover what you want with 4Blite."
Leadstripe regarded the woman carefully before it dawned on him. "...You're the Spider Queen." Mox raised a brow at the correct assumption. "4Blite said you were one of his associates-"
"Plagues." Mox corrected. "I prefer our titles. We're his Plagues."
"...Anyway," Leadstripe soldiered on. "I was looking to pass you this message through 4Blite. It's a demand from my Executive. You have spies in the Paragons, yes?"
"Who can say?" Mox shrugged. "It's not something any rational person would advertise."
"Do you or don't you?" Leadstripe bit back a shout. "This is important - a joint effort between two Executives to weaken the Paragons."
Mox's ears perked, hearing something juicy. "Maybe I have a few spies in their ranks."
"Then have them pass on what they know about-"
"I don't take orders from you." Mox cut the Lieutenant off.
"Yes you do. You're cultists now, and I outrank you."
"You're not my Lieutenant and Sdraw isn't my Executive. I work for 4Blite."
"Stop mentioning my Executive's name!" Leadstripe hissed.
"It's only us here. I'm sure of it." Mox dismissed with a bored yawn.
"It's still an unnecessary risk! What kind of spymaster are you?"
"Only the best." Mox grinned before schooling her features and talking business. "I only have a handful of spies in the Paragons and they're low end on the hierarchy. They aren't versed in the Morse Code map messages the Paragons typically use, so we're blind on that front, but they know where their outposts are hidden and they know the identities, equipment, and fighting styles of the higher ups, including the Angel of Death herself. If 4Blite had freed me sooner, I could've told you that Carys was who to gun for."
"What you've told me is less than I hoped, but should suit my Executive's needs." Leadstripe adjusted his glasses. "We need to act fast, though. We're going to hit their lookouts before-"
"As much as I would love to hear one of your mysterious Executive's plans - oh gee, who could it be - you'll have to place your order through 4Blite." Mox held up her hand to the simmering Lieutenant. "He'll be back shortly."
"I'm not hammering out a deal, here. You will provide us the information because you are a cultist first and 4Blite's subordinate second." Leadstripe asserted. "You think we've the time to go back and forth with deals? Do you have any inkling of what's in motion-?"
"I know about the Hackers and their growing Griefer army en route to Nitebane." Mox's blunt statement made Leadstripe stammer. "Please. You think the Ten Eyes would miss something like that in our own sphere of influence?"
"That's... listen to me. We don't-"
"No. You listen to me." Mox cut him off, jabbing at his chest with one finger. "I'm not some subservient grunt without a brain. I'm the guild master of the Ten Eyes. And I have a good enough read of the land that I can tell your mysterious Executive - oh lordy who could he be - wants the Paragons' outposts locations so he can take out the lookouts who'd otherwise warn Nitebane about the incoming Hackers and Griefer army." Leadstripe's glasses slid off his nose slightly and Brandeen stifled a chuckle at his friend's sass. "I also know enough to know that 4Blite will want a piece of the action."
"He's not the only one." Brandeen added. "I'm done being cooped up. Us Plagues can blind the lookouts on our own."
"The Paragons are cautious and have numerous lookouts. Hundreds, spread out in equidistant layers around Nitebane. Like radar." Mox explained. "It's why that Poulsen fellow and his army was detected before he reached Nitebane. Too many to kill completely, but we can kill the ones that would spot the Griefer army. Clear a path for them and catch the Paragons by surprise."
"Not completely. They'll notice something when their lookouts start vanishing."
"But we can keep them from knowing how many Hackers to expect. Can't make it too easy for Carys."
Leadstripe narrowed his eyes. "You want me to tell my Executive to leave it to you?"
"To 4Blite." Mox corrected. "He'll take full responsibility of this mission should you entrust it to him. We'll be his arms and legs. We just need some strategic portals made to connect us to those outposts without being seen. I understand the Eastern Executive can help us with that...?"
Leadstripe glared at the spymaster. No matter how useful she was as an ally, he didn't trust her. She knew too much and for some reason held loyalty to 4Blite. Same with the rest of those 'Plagues'. 4Blite was always power hungry, but it looked like he now had capable underlings at his disposal.
Still, it was unlikely she would give up the information unless the mission was tasked to 4Blite. There was little time to argue. Soon, the Hackers and their Griefer army would alert the Paragons' lookouts. A decision had to be made.
"...The responsibility falls to 4Blite." Leadstripe conceded, making Mox smile smugly. Just to wipe that look off, he added at the last, "And all that it implies."
4Blite taking responsibility meant failure or success would hang on his shoulders. It was a double-edged sword, and if 4Blite failed, Mox was sure to be punished for agreeing to it on his behalf in the first place. That would teach her for being a know-it-all.
"Visit the Eastern Division to set up your portals. Ask for the Eastern Executive and coordinate with him." Leadstripe spoke coolly. "Clear the lookouts in the army's path simultaneously. They'll know something's up when the lookouts vanish - we can't help that - but we can keep the number and identity of the Hackers a secret. The more intel we prevent from getting back to Nitebane, the better."
[Lenz]
November 7th.
I stood before a casual Z7, her hands behind her head even. She was flaunting her Quickdraw advantage by giving herself a serious handicap, making it so she had to take her hands off her head, reach down to her belt, and then draw. I also got to make the first move, choosing when to start our little duel.
She was skilled enough that she just might pull it off before I could pull my dagger.
My tinted goggles were in place as I carefully observed Z7. Maybe it was all the practice duels we did, but I was starting to notice things about her. Although she acted aloof, the way the ends of her hair trembled slightly showed her body was tense as a bowstring, ready to act at a moment's notice. I could almost envision the way she would draw her dagger and let it fly towards me.
...
Actually, that was an interesting thought.
So far, I had only been standing still and upright when drawing. I was making it easy for Z7 to predict where my dagger was going to be, making it easier for her to disarm me.
So what if I tilt my body or lean differently than what she expects?
It might not help me get a hit, but it would bait her into striking first, and maybe help me evade. That could afford me more time to Quickdraw.
With that in mind, I began making a plan.
When I draw, I will make it a feint. I will touch the dagger, but I will not draw it until she throws first. I can tilt and angle my body back and to the left. Easier to draw and throw on my right. Okay. This could work.
I ran through the plan again, remembering what Mastah Veronica had taught me about archers. We were moving artillery. An archer was strongest in motion, when he could move to different vantage points, flank, and confuse an enemy. It may not have been a bow, but the lesson could still be applicable. Z7 herself was often in motion when wielding her daggers.
I took a deep breath before staring unblinkingly at Z7. Sensing something would be different, the assassin tilted her head to the side, her bare feet shifting slightly in preparation.
Absolute silence.
In an instant, my hand flew to my dagger and held there. At the same time, Z7 took her hands off her head and was already drawing her dagger. Her drawing speed was insane. I stuck to the plan though. I did not draw. I tilted to the left and leaned back, angling my body away from where I knew she would throw that dagger. As such, I was rewarded by her eyes widening at the same instant she threw her dagger. It whizzed past my neck, missing me for perhaps the first time since we started these duels.
Only then did I draw my dagger. To Z7's credit, her other hand flew to her belt as soon as she realized her first would miss. She touched her second dagger shortly after I had thrown mine. Mine would nail her first before she even got to draw.
Just when I thought I had gotten one over on her, Z7 shocked me with a feat of acrobatic prowess. She performed a one handed cartwheel, her hair flying beside her in purple cascades. She was upside down and in motion when she drew her dagger quick as a tick, evaded my projectile, and launched the dagger at my off-balance body.
"Oh, Observers..."
The dagger struck my center and dented off my chainmail chestplate, dealing a Heart of damage. My back struck the ground a second later and I was left staring at a blue sky before Z7's curtain of hair hovered over me.
"(You hurt, nerdling?)"
"(Only my pride.)" I admitted before sitting up and running a hand over my armor.
The chainmail Z7 got me was great. It was light for carry ease and mobility, plus it could protect me from serious damage. Some combatants I had come across chose to enchant and wear lighter leather armor to up their speed without losing any defense. I would not mind doing that myself; a powerful defensive enchantment or two might come in handy.
"(You surprised me with that lean.)" Z7 spoke honestly in Jibberish. "(I was starting to think I would have to teach you that trick, but you figured it out on your own.)"
"(Leaning is a known trick?)"
"(Well, nobody expects you to stand ramrod straight when starting a fight. Just like how I'm sure nobody would run away in a straight line when trying to evade a sniper. They'd serpentine.)" She swayed her body like a snake. "(Or take cover.)" She shielded the top of her head with both hands. "(Being in motion is how I defend most of the time, since daggers don't have much surface area to defend with. I could do a cross-guard, but it's not a reliable defense.") She crossed her daggers in an 'X' before her, then made the blades parallel in a different defensive stance.
"(I cannot do one handed cartwheels.)" I said flatly, earning a light chuckle from the assassin.
"(My bad. That was a heat of the moment thing. I'm pretty competitive. Didn't want to take a hit.)" She parted her hair to look at me. "(So? You think you have a good enough handle on Quickdraw?)"
"(My fingers certainly feel like I have been putting in enough effort.)" I winced as the mere act of curling my fingers made them throb and tighten. "(I would like to apply what I have learned with crossbows if you do not mind.)"
"(If you do not mind...?)"
I sighed. "(If you do not mind, Mastah Z7.)"
She nodded in satisfaction. "(You may.)" I retrieved the dagger I had flung and handed it back to her, but she shook her head. "(Keep it for now. We'll revisit knife throwing while you're transitioning into the crossbow.)"
I pulled it back, my fingers tracing the iron edges of the Tinker's weapon. "(How many of these daggers do you have?)"
"(My nine and the one I gave you. Ten total.)"
"(Ten. If you do not mind me asking, how did you get your hands on ten? From what I understand, these are rare, quality weapons. Did Tinker make them for you as a set?)"
"(I doubt he had me in mind when he was making them.)" She said absentmindedly.
"(What does that mean?)"
She gave a little start of surprise. "(Oh, right. I keep forgetting you can understand me all the time. Can't mumble carelessly anymore.)" She scratched her cheek, her coal-black eyes peeking out cautiously from behind her purple curtain of hair.
"(If it is personal, you do not have to-)"
"(It's alright. I have nothing to hide.)" She gave a little sigh before plopping down on a rock and patting the one next to her for me. I sat down and the two of us watched Cobbert and Perry sparring on the other side of our training ground while she told her story.
"(Everyone else in this story is dead, and I've never been able to communicate this with the other Paragons, so you'll be the first and only other person in Minecraftia to know my story.)"
"(Being a Jibberwoman, I wasn't able to hold a conversation with anyone. Their words would be garbled nonsense to me just as my words would be garbled nonsense to them.)" She hugged her knees. "(Everybody thinks Jibbermen and Jibberwomen are unhinged just because we were in the Void too long. Our names and speech are garbled, but we're no different than your average Crafter. Instead we got people treating us like we're subhuman. If we were the majority of the population, it'd be the other way round.)"
"(I didn't pick up any tips or tricks from Helena at the Origin. The language barrier was too high of an obstacle. Instead, she just shooed me out into the world, like a bird being kicked out of the nest and told to fly.)"
"(I didn't know at the time what was wrong with me. My words didn't sound garbled to me, yet I was treated like an outcast. Same with the people I met on the road. They saw the garbled text over my head or heard the garbled sounds coming out of my mouth and decided they wanted nothing to do with me. Everyone always wanted nothing to do with me.)"
"(I had to learn everything on my own. How to hunt and forage for food, how to craft vital items, how to defend myself from Mobs...)" She looked off into the distance in remembrance. "(It was hard, but I wouldn't be here if I didn't get through it. By myself. Always by myself.)"
"(I went west, following the sunset, until I hit the desert. Then I opted to go around instead of through it. That's... when I ran into those bandits.)" She spoke bitterly. "(Real pieces of work. From what I could tell, they captured and sold off Crafters to a band of warlords in Exter. I was among their latest 'haul', though I was low-end goods, being a Jibberwoman. Those bandits didn't live very long, however. There must have been a disagreement about a deal or something between the bandits and the warlords, and it resulted in the warlords slaughtering the bandits and taking all their captives, me among them.)"
"(That must have been terrifying at the time.)" I said sympathetically. Z7 must not have had any of her combat skills, else she would not have been captured at all. She was defenseless and tossed around between violent groups of Crafters. I certainly would have been afraid if I was her. "(So then what happened?)"
"(The warlords that took me were part of an organization dealing in human trafficking. The conditions were appalling, but it was there where I finally found other Jibbermen and Jibberwomen like me. They were people I could actually talk to, and it made me realize I wasn't as alone or damaged as I was led to believe. That was the only bright moment in that place.)"
"(It was an old prison, abandoned by Exter. It had been repurposed into an underground fight den where Crafters of the underworld could gather and bid on fights to the death, or else buy Crafters as slaves. The ten warlords in charge saw most of the profits, their membership to such a dirty business cemented by the possession of a token: an iron dagger.)"
My eyes widened at the implications. Ten warlords. An iron dagger each. I held up the one Z7 gave me, my eyes scanning its surface.
"(So then... you got them from...)"
"(Like I said. Everyone in this story is dead.)"
A silence settled between us, broken only by the sounds of combat between Cobbert and Perry. Z7 did not elaborate on how the warlords died or if she had been the one to do it. She did not go into detail about her fellow captured slaves or what became of them (aside from her vague statement that everyone else in her story was dead). She did not go into how she became proficient in daggers and assassination. All of it was left to my imagination, which invented more unlikely scenarios than the last with each passing second.
"(After everything was... sorted,)" Z7 went on, "(I shut myself in one of those prison cells in the darkest corner of that place, kept alive by bone meal and watermelon.)"
"(Why did you not just leave after... after what happened?)" I caught myself at the last.
"(I'd seen enough of Crafters.)" Z7 admitted. "(They weren't warm or welcoming to my kind. I couldn't be heard. I couldn't make them smile. But it wasn't like being alone was anything new. So I shut myself in, drew the curtains closed, and stayed by myself for a few years.)"
"(A few years!?)" I exclaimed. "(In a prison all by yourself!? That is not right! What did you with all that time?)"
"(Worked on some jokes.)" She gave a sad, lopsided smile. "(I kept to myself in that cell, keeping the door shut, but Carys found me and opened the door herself. I couldn't understand her, yet I could tell by her intent that she wanted me to follow. So I did. I lent her my skills and bared my daggers against her foes, earning my nickname of Slumbering Death because I could move so quietly that I could assassinate even the lightest sleepers while they were snoozing. Though personally, I was more grateful for how they referred to me. They painted over my garbled name - one that I could never see nor understand - and called me Z7. The moment they referred to me by that was when I was sure I had found where I belonged.)"
"(So you do not even have a grudge against the Endward Cult, do you?)"
Z7 tilted her head in confusion. "(What do you mean? Of course I have a grudge. They attacked my guildmates.)"
"(No, I mean, before joining the Paragons.)" I specified. "(Before Carys found you. You joined not because you were attacked, but because you had a connection to the Paragons.)" I offerred a little smile. "(Same goes for me, I suppose. Everyone else in the Beginners has a beef with the Endward Cult except for me. I am only there to help look after everyone.)"
"(Do you feel like you belong with them?)" She asked.
"(I do.)"
"(Then this must be where you're meant to be.)" She placed her palms on the ground. "(Sorry my story was a bit melancholy.)"
"(It was no bother. Thank you for sharing.)"
"(Still, it's not the kind of story that's all sunshine and rainbows.)" Z7 shook her head, her curtain of hair swaying from side to side. "(It felt good to finally be able to talk to someone after so many years. I let it rush to my head and bored you with a sad, old tale. Dampened the mood.)"
I thought to myself for a moment. "(Well, suppose you could brighten the mood?)"
"(Brighten it how?)"
"(With one of those jokes you have saved in your holster. Quickdraw those instead of your daggers.)"
At once, Z7 leaned forward eagerly and she let out a little gasp of barely contained glee. Her coal-black eyes were wide and glittering, her entire posture screaming her excitement.
"(Yeah? You really mean it?)" She was already standing up and moving before me.
She had said she wanted to be a stand-up comedian once the war with the Cult was all said and done. Now she finally had someone to test her material on. It was like she was glowing with giddiness. While I was not sure how good a covert assassin could be at telling jokes, I chose to listen to her because that was what she wanted more than anything. She wanted to be heard and to make people smile.
I sat back comfortably and gestured for her to go ahead. She shook out her hands to relieve tension while she readied her jokes.
"(Okay, I'm throwing out my Z-Game here, nerdling, so get ready to laugh.)"
Z-Game? I thought before getting it.
She cleared her throat, holding the handle of a dagger to her mouth like it was a microphone. "(Mic check, mic check. One, two. One, two. How we all doing tonight?)" She spoke into it, sweeping her long hair out of the way and having her heavily scarred face on full display. However, her coal-black eyes, big and bright, stuck out more now that they could not hide behind that curtain of hair. "(We've got quite the audience, so you must not have anything going in your life if you're here listening to my jokes.)"
Awfully self-deprecating. Was that how comedy shows were supposed to go? Was I supposed to laugh? Z7 did not wait for a reply.
"(Well, let's get started.)" She adjusted the dagger, pacing back and forth as she told her first joke. "(What's the difference between a snowman and a snow-woman?)"
In the pause that followed, I needlessly asked "(What?)"
"(Snowballs.)"
The first second I spent translating, the second second I spent confused, the third second I understood it, and the fourth second I really understood it, a genuine smile coming to my lips and making Z7 light up like the sun. It was juvenile and corny, but I could not help but chuckle. My amusement did wonders for Z7's confidence as she got back into joking, this time rattling ones off in quick succession.
"(Did you hear about the man who was sacked from the calendar factory? He took a couple of days off.)"
"(My husband is mad that I have no sense of direction. So I packed up my stuff and right.)"
I burst into a fit of laughter after that one. With every good joke, the giggles built up and up. Even if the jokes were subpar, the steady accumulation of humor could make anything sound funny.
"(Imagine if you walked into a bar and there was a long line of people waiting to hit you. That's the punch line.)"
"(Ahhh, I get it.)" I smiled.
"(What's the difference between a poorly dressed man on a tricycle and a well-dressed man on a bicycle? Attire.)"
"(I'm reading a book about anti-gravity.)"
"(It is impossible to put down.)" I finished for her, having heard it before in my college days.
"(What do you call a deer with no eyes?)"
I shrugged. "(No idea.)"
"(That's right! What do you call a reindeer with no eyes and no legs?)"
I shrugged again, even more confused. "(Er... Still no idea.)"
"(Hahaha! Right again!)"
I felt like I was missing something.
"(Rest in peace, boiled water. You will be mist.)"
"(What has two butts and kills people?)" She smiled cheekily, two fingers coming to point at her face. "(An assassin.)"
"(And finally, what's the difference between a nerd and a paid assassin?)" The last joke held a pointed significance when shared between the two of us. A nerd and an assassin. A joke that fit the situation. Maybe one that Z7 invented in the spur of the moment. "(One hits the books and the other books a hit.)"
"(Very true.)" I agreed, remembering all the sleepless nights I spent cramming the textbooks' knowledge into my brain. Even though the joke was not funny, it still affected me by bringing up nostalgic memories. It appealed to the misery I felt while forgoing sleep to study, and is not most comedy derived from some form of misery?
With the show over, I applauded the assassin who gave a dramatic, sweeping bow, her mouth smiling from ear to ear.
"(So?)" She sheathed her 'microphone' and sat back down beside me. "(Feedback? What'd you think? Which jokes did you like the best?)"
"(I enjoyed the sense of direction one.)" I offerred honestly. "(Though, I think I missed something with the deer and reindeer joke.)"
Z7 rolled her eyes with a smirk. "(And here I thought you were cleverly bantering back and forth. Don't overthink it too much.)"
I folded my arms and scrunched my face up in thought.
"(A deer with no eyes. No idea. No-eyed deer.)" My eyes widened in realization at her words. "(A reindeer with no eyes or legs. Still no idea. A still, no-eyed deer.)"
"Uggghhh..." I groaned in my own language, slapping a hand to my face. "(I am so stupid. A no-eyed deer...)"
"(Hey, you got it right.)" She smiled, bumping my shoulder with hers. "(And now that you know the joke, you can get other people with it. Make them feel silly.)"
"(I suppose I can try that with Cobbert.)" I remarked, checking the spar to see Cobbert falling back under Perry's advance. It was because he could not use his damaged fishing rod, waste his precious snowballs, or kill Perry with the destructive End Crystals. He had to rely on swordsmanship alone, which Perry seemed superior in. "(I must admit, your humor relies more on homophones than I would expect considering it is a different word entirely in Jibberish. It makes you think, though.)"
Z7 smiled. "(I'm just glad you got them all. I'll have to come up with better material to really impress you. I came up with that last one at the end, but I want to get you laughing so hard you're in tears.)" There was an eager glint in her eye. "(You won't know what hit you!)"
A line like that was not something you wanted to hear from a trained assassin, and yet I felt that familiar warmth of companionship I felt around Cobbert, Floyd, Soul, and Noman... and AceOfJades.
My smile fell a bit at that, recalling how jarringly a friend became an enemy. I had been the first to figure it out, my world rocked and my mind desperately trying to reason that it was not true. How many times had I talked to her, bonding over airship piloting lessons. Lessons that she used to steal the Asmodeus - another ploy to cover herself, disguised as a heartfelt gesture.
How much of Z7's enthusiasm was genuine?
Z7 was an assassin for Carys, bared against the Paragons' enemies. Carys made it clear this truce was temporary. Once the cult was out of the way, the Beginners and Paragons would go back to being enemies. Even if Z7's companionship was real, was it right to build upon it when a fatal showdown between Cobbert and Carys was inevitable? I was fine with being allies now, but getting closer, when things were bound not to last...?
For the first time, I wondered if this was how AceOfJades felt while decieving us.
"(Nerdling?)" Z7 prompted, sensing my turmoil. "(Is something the matter?)"
"(It is noth-)"
"You're done!"
The triumphant voice of Perry sounded across from us. I looked up and saw Cobbert hunched over, his diamond sword stuck in the ground and propping him up. He and Perry were both panting, though Cobbert looked more banged up. Baltic and Witige were on standby with potions, ready to intercede as soon as the fighters called off the spar.
"Give up! Unless you'd like to be hit a few more times?"
Cobbert shook his head tiredly. "I know when I'm beat. Alright Perry, I..." Cobbert trailed off, his eyes squinting at a spot over Perry's shoulder. He straightened up and wore an expression of confused disbelief. "Carys? The hell are you doing here?"
Perry gasped and whirled around, refusing to believe Carys was here. He was not the only one. Cobbert's words had Baltic and Witige spinning about, trying to locate the guild leader Cobbert had fooled them into believing was here. I could only facepalm, having fallen for the trick for maybe half a second before my mind reasoned otherwise.
Perry, fooled for a full two seconds looking at empty, Carys-less space, was left unprepared as Cobbert sprung forward, his Sweeping Edge blade sweeping up Perry's legs out from under him and laying him flat on his back in an audible 'thwump'. Cobbert threw his body over him in the scuffle that followed, pinning both arms with his knees, his head with one hand, and a diamond blade tickling Perry's throat.
"Nevermind it was just a rock." Cobbert said cheekily. "Yield, please."
"You... you fucking cheat!" Perry swore, fighting to stand only to get forced back down. The blade at his throat was a threatening reminder that he was well within Cobbert's power. He had lost. "You cheated!"
"Ye I did." Cobbert admitted with a shit-eating grin. It was infectious and I found myself laughing at his antics. Beside me, Z7 politely applauded the reversal to the spar.
"I'm calling it there. It's Perry's loss." Witige declared with relish.
"Like hell it is! I can still fi - OW!"
Cobbert bonked him on the head with the handle of his sword, the action a clear indicator of his defeat.
"Enough, Perry. In a real fight, this would be over." Baltic put the dispute to rest, throwing a Lingering Potion at the two to bring them back to full Health.
Cobbert unpinned Perry and stood up to shoot Witige a silent nod, which the alchemist returned respectfully. Perry, however, bolted up with a look of outrage.
"I had him on the ropes! He was making it out like he was going to surrender! If he hadn't pulled off that stupid bluff about Carys-"
"And who fell for the stupid bluff?" Cobbert asked rhetorically. "Honestly, you should know Carys is on the other side of Minecraftia. It's your own fault for buying such an obvious lie."
"He's right. Words are just swords without an 'S'. He made us all look." Baltic accepted humbly. Then again, he was not the one who lost. "Even made his own ally look."
"We're supposed to be fighting for real, though. I had him! You all saw it!" Perry was defiant.
"I also saw Cobb not use his snowballs, lava bucket, fishing rod, or End Crystals." Baltic pointed out. "He was holding back to keep from killing you, and to preserve his stores."
"Snowballs don't grow on trees. Unless it's snowing...?" Cobbert added as an afterthought. "More importantly, Backlash is a few flicks short of wearing away."
"You could try Mending?" Witige suggested. "Or get an anvil and repair it that way?"
"Yeah, but that would draw away from my EXP level." Cobbert's excuse came out immediately. This was something he had been considering. "These mountains are so devoid of Griefers that I'd have no way to replenish whatever I spend. And Mending would impede my EXP gains - it's not worth it."
"It's a shame we're not in Nitebane." Baltic lamented. "Jillian's been running the EXP Factories day and night. She could afford to spare a few levels to fix your equipment."
"Yeah, well I'm not too keen on visiting the kingdom that issued my wanted posters, thanks." Cobbert said before turning to Z7 and me. He had a scowl on his face when he saw how close we were. "What were you two babbling about earlier? It got you giggling like a pack of school girls."
Cobbert's foul mood was because of his growing dislike for couples. Just like with Heather and Luis. Z7 and I were not a couple, but I could see how our closeness and mirth could paint a different picture.
"Z7 was just-"
"(I don't like that tone.)" Z7 abruptly stood and drew her daggers before pointing one at Cobbert. "(If you have time to glower, you must still be energetic. Try tangling with the Slumbering Death.)"
"Is she picking a fight, Lenz?" Cobbert asked while Perry scrambled to his feet and got out of the assassin's line of sight. "Because I'm game." He raised his sword, sidestepping slowly to size the assassin up.
Z7 did not wait for me to translate. Seeing Cobbert raise his sword was all the invitation she needed to commence the fight. She lunged forward, twin daggers drawn, her bare feet padding across the ground silently.
The two had fought in Spleef, but this would be their first actual spar. Cobbert or Z7. In my opinion, they were the two strongest fighters in our group of fourteen. There had never been a chance to determine who was stronger, but it looked like we would get a glimpse. Cobbert's self-imposed handicap might be a factor to consider, but-
My mouth hung open when Cobbert willingly pulled out his snowballs and flung a handful at Z7.
"What the hell!?" Perry threw his arms up in outrage before Baltic gave him a comforting pat on the head.
Z7 did another one-handed cartwheel dodge like she had during our training, evading the snowballs and flinging two daggers at Cobbert's face. He turned his body, dodging them by a hair, before drawing Backlash (much to Perry's chagrin) and casting it towards the assassin.
She brought her arm up and let Cobbert snag her shirt sleeve, her hair-covered face betraying nothing.
"You have seven daggers left." Cobbert stated. "Once you fling them all, you'll be helpless to fight back!"
He yanked back with a shout of exertion, his EXP strength aiding him as Z7 was thrown off her feet towards him. As her purple hair whipped behind her, I saw her smirk.
She twisted in midair, grabbing her daggers, and using Cobbert's pull to get close.
Cobbert readied his Sweeping Edge sword with his free hand and slashed horizontally at the incoming assassin. Z7 spun her body midair and parried the slash with one dagger before driving the other down into Cobbert's shoulder. His green leather tunic offerred minimal protection compared to the rest of his armor; Z7 had targeted a weakpoint.
Cobbert bit back a cry and fought through the pain to grab the dagger that had pierced his shoulder and wrench it away from the assassin. He tossed it behind him before rushing forward with his larger mass.
Z7 flipped over him, drawing a fresh dagger, before jamming it into his calf. Cobbert's cry was audible this time, though he lashed out with the handle of Backlash, the Knockback effect activating and sending Z7 skidding across the clearing.
This was more than just a simple spar. This was a battle for dominance. Both fighters knew that this would decide the superior warrior of the group this was a personal rivalry. Neither one could kill the other, and that meant Cobbert would not resort to the deadly End Crystals and Z7 would not assassinate him.
Cobbert rushed after the assassin only to throw himself out of the way of her barrage of Quickdrawn daggers. She threw them so fast, but I was able to count them as they stuck to the stones.
Five daggers. She kept one in reserve, drawing it when Cobbert closed the distance.
The two engaged in close combat, though Cobbert's heavy swings were over telegraphed. Even with Sweeping Edge, he could not hit Z7 as she darted under his arms, slicing at him like she was butchering meat.
On one pass, Cobbert had something in his hand and placed it just as Z7 made contact. The assassin's knuckles crunched as they struck obsidian. "(GUH!)" She cried out, clutching her hand while Cobbert swung his sword in a powerful overhead strike that caught the assassin's skull.
"Hey, hey!" Baltic's voice rose. "This is getting out of hand! Ease up!"
The two combatants ignored the old alchemist as they kept trading blows. Z7 hopped over a sweeping slash, then ducked a high slash before lashing out with her blade. Cobbert leaned back, thinking he was out of her short dagger's reach, only to feel a sharp pain in his shoulder when the dagger became an iron pickaxe, the pick digging into him. It almost looked as if the dagger transformed into a pickaxe with how quickly Z7 swapped between the weapons.
"The hell!?" Cobbert shouted in alarm before Z7 kicked him in the gut and sent him tumbling back. She followed up by throwing her last dagger into Cobbert's arm before she raced back to collect some of the ones she had thrown earlier.
Cobbert, seeing that she had wasted all her daggers, was not about to let such a chance slip by. He worked through the pain, got up, and snagged Z7's back with his fishing rod, pulling her taut and away from the daggers she was reaching for.
He slashed at her again only for her to weave past his arms and take his back. Once there, she swapped for her pickaxe with that same blinding speed. She dug into his back with the pickaxe and threw him into the ground, stamping him twice for good measure before kicking Backlash aside. She then stepped over him and retrieved two of her daggers without interuption.
Cobbert propped himself up as Z7 stood over him with daggers raised. In a last ditch effort, he pointed behind her. "Ah! Lenz just fell off the mountain!"
Z7, a Jibberwoman, did not understand him, and thus did not hesitate to deliver a cross-slash to his back that slammed him into the ground, defeated.
"(I see your lips moving, but all I hear is blah blah blah.)" Z7 dismissed with a finality that everyone could understand. After that, she stabbed the two daggers back into her belt and went off to retrieve the rest. Baltic called the match and ended the spar.
Cobbert slowly pushed himself up, his body heavily battered from the fight. Baltic threw down another Lingering Potion of Healing II while Perry pointed and laughed.
"HA! Your little bluff didn't work on her!"
Only because of the language gap. If Z7 understood, there was a chance she would be distracted... but really Cobbert should have said Baltic fell off the mountain instead of me. No matter what he thought we were, Z7 and I were just Mastah and student. Companions. Friends...?
Still, superiority had been set. Her victory would spread to the rest of our group through word of mouth from Perry and Witige, and I was certain even Carys would catch wind of it in the daily reports sent via Map Messages. She would want to hear that her best assassin defeated Cobbert in a fight. By the end of the day, the Paragons would be abuzz with the knowledge that Cobbert was weaker than Z7. It did not matter that he did not use End Crystals.
"How did she swap out her weapons so fast?" Cobbert complained while rubbing his shoulder. "One second it's a dagger, the next it's a pickaxe. I couldn't follow it at all!"
"That's the Quickswap I told you about yesterday." Witige reminded. "To be able to swap out the items at your belt in an instant. Quickdraw and Quickswap are Z7's most exceptional skills because of her lightning-fast reflexes. She's taught us all."
"He's right." Baltic agreed. "Swapping from the items at your belt allows you to change the tide of the battlefield in an instant. You'd benefit from it with your versatile arsenal. I know I have after alternating between my potions."
Cobbert contemplated the alchemist's words for a moment before dusting himself off and approaching Z7.
"You can't understand what I'm saying, but if you can read intent, you should be able to get what I'm trying to say."
Z7 turned to Cobbert, her hair covering her face.
"I'd like to be let in on your Quickdraw lessons with Lenz. Only, I'd like it if you could teach me your Quickswap technique instead. Would you teach me?"
She tilted her head slightly, clearly struggling to understand the fisherman. Sensing her difficulty, Cobbert tried pantomiming.
"Teach me," he patted his chest twice, "Quickswap," he switched out his items as quick as he could but slower than Z7, "please." He finished by clasping both hands together as if begging.
Z7 blinked twice before turning to me and speaking in Jibberish.
"(Tell him I'll teach him, but only if he's serious about learning.)"
I relayed as much, and Cobbert gave a firm nod to her.
"I'll do whatever it takes."
It was hard not to admire Cobbert's willpower.
Despite sparring with Perry and Z7, he still subjected his body to that poison torture. He refused to miss a session that could be spent improving himself. Baltic grimaced watching Cobbert ingest the weakening brews, but he only voiced his protests when Perry followed suit. Cobbert was gathering followers for his Draconian training, and I dreaded to imagine what other Paragons he would sway to his side.
By the end of it, the two of them were exhausted. Cobbert pushed his stamina further each day, adding to the training that tired him out. He and Perry would be hiking all day with that sluggishness, but they did not care. They were prepared to sweat. No pain, no gain, as they say.
I was feeling my own pains and gains in my wrists and fingers from all the Quickdraw training. I was faster with daggers, but I was ready to start practicing with the crossbow.
There was also something else I was eager to try.
"Okay, Lenzington." Trenay slid beside me. "I got the iron ingots I smelted yesterday."
"And I've got about thirty Spiders' worth of string." Dwight added before patting the Bane of Arthropods Sword at his belt. "Thing came in handy."
"Great. I have the tripwire hooks and sticks." The same hooks I got from the college. Trenay and Dwight handed me their respective items and I crafted them all together to make thirteen crossbows. One for everyone in the group!
"It feels so much different than a standard bow." Trenay remarked as she looked down the sights. "Has more of a mechanical aspect too. I suppose, at the end of the day, it's still the same basic concept. Pulled string make arrow go fly now."
"Quit stalling and hand me some of those fireworks. I wanna try doing what that Bounty Hunter in the desert did." Dwight remarked. He was speaking of Gunnah and his rocket loaded projectiles. In truth, I wanted to try the rockets just as much as Dwight.
"Hold your horses. We need to consider our safety." Trenay calmed us down. "Let's test them first on some rocks. Nothing crazy until we get a solid handle on these things."
"Fiiiiiiiine." Dwight complained, drawing out the word with a sigh.
Trenay pulled out a pack of fireworks rockets that I remembered she got from the Scouts during our all-expense paid shopping spree. They were the very same ones the Scouts gave to their Elytra users to propel them across the End.
"Where did you find the time to make these, again?" Dwight asked.
"I got them from _." Trenay clutched at her throat as the words refused to get unstuck from her throat. The non-disclosure censor from SutsCo was still in effect. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "Don't ask. Point is, we got them." She loaded one of the rockets into the crossbow and pulled back, the tripwire hook latching it into place with a click. "And we can use them."
She asked me and Dwight to stand back as she aimed her rocket-loaded crossbow away and towards a solid rock wall. Despite being absorbed in their own conversations and musings, every single Paragon stopped where they stood and paid attention to the test Trenay was conducting. They all wanted to see the capabilities of the firework rocket.
Making sure we were a good distance away, Trenay pulled the trigger and launched the rocket. It did not fly up into the air, but instead shot out in a straight trajectory with respect to how the crossbow was aimed. It was as much a projectile as an arrow, and it flew with a high-pitched whistle and a white trail of sparks.
There was a tense moment of awe as everyone watched the rocket shoot towards the rock wall. However, it fell flat as, instead of exploding on impact, the rocket just ran against the stone, white sparks still pouring out the back of it, before it eventually fizzled out without a bang.
"...That was anticlimactic." Wing remarked.
"Wait, wait... hang on..." Trenay loaded another rocket into the mechanism and fired with much less caution and greater haste. It was much the same, prolonged pouring of sparks as the first, the rocket futilely running itself against an immovable stone wall without any kind of explosion. "That can't be it... Did _ give us tampered fireworks!?" Again, she was stopped from uttering key words.
"Let me see them." Dwight grabbed a few and examined them closely. "There has to be a reason Gunnah could get them to work. What did Albert say in his report? Gunnah's rockets exploded in a great burst of blue sparks. Like how fireworks are meant to be."
I took my own share of firework rockets to examine, being sure to check the specific effects. "Flight Duration: 3." I read off the item in my hand. "Does that mean they fly three times as long?"
"Probably." Heather commented, stepping forward to check the rockets for herself. I handed her a few and watched her turn them over in her hands. "We've made fireworks before for signalling each other, but the shape and color, the effects, those are all a fine and delicate art. The pyrotechnicians in Lazuli would know more, and in greater detail."
"Pyrotechnicians? They play with fire up north?" Cobbert asked.
"They play with fireworks." Trenay elaborated. "Pyrotechnicians, or pyrotechnists, are persons skilled in the manufacture or setting off of fireworks and firework displays."
"I always thought Lazuli specialized in artwork. Snow Prints, colorful banners, paintings, sculptures."
"Are fireworks such a reach from that?" Heather asked rhetorically. "The rockets - customizable with various colors and effects - are the paint, and the night sky their canvas. Lazuli is the home for all kinds of artists, pyrotechnicians among them."
"So we need a pyrotechnist to explain why these rockets are not working?" Lenz asked. "And you have no idea yourself?"
"I'm afraid not." Heather shook her head. "We've made and used them before, but it was only ever combining a dye with gunpowder to make a firework star, then combining them with paper and more gunpowder to make a rocket. Honestly, we sunk a lot of gunpowder into them and it wasn't worth it. Carys preffered to buy fireworks and use our gunpowder for TNT and Splash Potions instead."
"That sounds like something she'd do." Cobbert nodded.
"Ugh, I don't want to trek all the way up north just to figure out how to use these things." Dwight threw his crossbow to the ground disrespectfully.
"You don't have to." Cobbert said. "Just use your communication line and find some Paragons from Lazuli. There's bound to be one with a background in pyrotechnics." Cobbert smiled at his reasonable idea...
...Before one glance at the ones around him revealed Paragons who refused to meet his eye.
"...You don't have any Paragons from Lazuli."
"Well, I mean, we, sort of, kind of, no, no we don't."
"You're kidding!" Cobbert exclaimed. "I thought you guys accepted people from all walks of life."
"Well, we didn't exactly have a demand for engineers or artists. We needed soldiers!" Wing defended.
"This is your problem." Cobbert shook his head. "You don't turn people away just because their specialized skill isn't something broadly applicable. You train everyone the same, so why not bring people on board with unique crafts and trades? Lenz's redstone background has helped us in transportation, diversions, large-scale traps, locating and opening secret doors, blowing things up, and making secret outhouse bases in backyards!"
One of those things was not like the others. Nonetheless, I preened under such praise.
"You guys should diversify. That way, you'd have an expert on call for all the things you would ever need to know."
"Not like your diversifying is perfect either." Perry countered. "You and Lenz have been asking for Quickswap and Quickdraw training. That's battle experience you don't possess." Cobbert and I muttered uncomfortably. "You didn't have an alchemist until Baltic showed up."
"Floyd was learning alchemy on the side..." I protested weakly. It was not like he had a brewing stand with him at all times. We bought Potions without bothering with ingredients.
"We might not have specialists in every field, but we do for the ones that matter." Wing assured. "We're an army suited for combat, and Carys will make the Paragons the greatest military force since Exter."
"Back to the rockets," Heather shifted focus back to the issue at hand. "Lenzington. Don't you have prior experience with firework rockets? With dispensers?"
"Dispensers, yes. Firework rockets, no." I shook my head. "There was a footnote in a textbook I read about dispensers, but it only ever mentioned firework rockets. It did not go in detail about how they were made."
Trenay abruptly set of a handful of rockets on the ground without loading them in a crossbow. They shot into the sky in a trail of white sparks that eventually petered out with no bang. "These things don't even detonate normally. _ better not have tampered with these."
"Stop bringing the guy or girl up when you can't bring him or her up!" Dwight snapped. "It's killing us!"
"Uh, sorry." Trenay looked apologetic.
"There may be another way to learn what's wrong." Baltic suggested. "There are a few villages between us and the Cadboro Bridge. We can visit one for new horses, and, while we're at it, we can ask the locals if they know any pyrotechnicians."
"We can't be seen, though."
"Correction. You can't be seen." Doyle clarified. "And we - Paragons and Beginners - can't be seen together, but we - us Paragons - can meander around and be seen just fine."
"That's not a bad idea." Luis nodded. "The bigger villages are more likely to have someone from Lazuli. Or even someone who's set off a firework or two."
"As long as we avoid getting seen." I reiterated. "They cannot know we are allies."
"If any cultists show up, we'll take care of them. Don't you worry." Aurand and the other assassins assured. Even Z7 flashed a thumbs up.
With that settled, I took the thirteen crossbows I made and tried to divide them amongst the others. However, while Heather and Trenay accepted theirs, the others turned them aside.
"Sorry, but I don't want one until I'm sure it can fire deadly rockets. You understand." Dwight swept past me with a few others. None of them wanted a crossbow. Not even Cobbert.
I did not have the space to carry eleven extra crossbows, so I had to store them in my Gray Pocket Box for safe keeping. At least until we learned how to make the firework rockets work like Gunnah had. Then I was sure they would go like hotcakes!
We continued our hike through the mountains with little trouble and no noteworthy incident. Just another day for us.
[Blitz Peak]
Lightning flashed and rain pounded relentlessly upon the stone of Blitz Peak.
In the darkness, Mobs spawned in a space with a low ceiling and carpets placed specifically on the ground. The torches had long since been removed, allowing Mobs to materialize without issue. But, as KillGore promised, only Creepers could spawn in such an enclosed space, and they were freighted to the edge of his Grinder by a simple cat in a minecart.
After fleeing to the edge of the Grinder, the Creepers would fall off and into a moat of water - a creation dug and filled by Spring. Spring water, hah. The Creepers flowed with the water to a wide fenced-in and lit up pen. Lightning flashed above and thunder rumbled while the number of Creepers in the pen went up. Nearly fifty if Spring counted correctly.
Not one of them was charged. Not one of them was coated in the electric blue aura denoting them as a Charged Creeper. Lightning continued to strike the mountain at random, but a Creeper had not been in the vicinity of one. Usually they struck far off or outside the pen. After another lightning bolt struck elsewhere, Spring spoke up.
"We need to expand."
"We can't expand." KillGore shot back, standing patiently beside him. They were all under a makeshift shelter to keep out of the rain while they watched their work. "We set up here because it has the only available blind spot for the institute up there. If we expand, we'll be seen, and then this whole thing will be blown open. We can't cover up a Mob Grinder. They have to remain stationary."
"But you've seen how many lightning bolts have missed!" There actually had been a few that struck just outside the pen, but of course, that wasn't close enough. "We need a wider area."
"KillGore refuses to expand the pen one meter further!" He protested. "We can't alert the Weather Institute!"
"Let's just kill them. Vamos a matarlas."
Spring and KillGore turned to Carmen who had said that. The Hybrid was sitting at a table with her clones, the four of them eyeing up the mountain towards the Institute. Their expression was hungry.
"If being spotted is worrying you, I can go up there grande sized and wreck the place. Arruinar su mierda."
"Expose them. Exponerlas"
"Crush them. Aplastarlas"
"Smother them to death. Sofocarlas"
"Hurl them off the montaña. Lánzalos." Each clone spoke a different option darkly. "Take them out of the equation. Then we can expand el corral to cover this whole montaña."
Spring gulped quietly to hide his fear. Carmen's Mob instincts were driving her into making visceral choices. She wanted to kill the Crafters and Testificates up there. She would use it as justification to return to her old self. They needed more Heads anyway to get the Hybridization ritual to work, so why not obtain them from the nearest Crafters?
Spring betted that Carmen's hivemind was only supporting her violent instincts. The clones were all talking to one another in their heads, saying what a good idea it was, telling her to go for it, when it was really just herself telling herself she was right. And that wasn't always the best thing to have.
"I'll do it." She and her clones made to stand, but Spring and KillGore stopped them, tripping over themselves to convince Carmen not to go.
"You don't know how many people are in there." Spring began.
"It'll take just one to bring all of Daymonte down upon us." KillGore added. "Miss even one, and we'll have to leave."
"They could even have fighters up there. With crazy... uh... weather based moves?"
"Fool! This is not the time to act first and think second!"
"I mean, meteorologists. It's a title that doesn't make sense, right? Unless! They secretly know forbidden meteor summoning techniques. Maybe they're actually badasses. Ever think of that?"
"What we need right now," KillGore cast Spring an 'are you serious' look before speaking, "is patience. Mob Grinders are all about patience. Waiting for the EXP and loot to come to you, without swinging a sword. Patience."
Carmen's clones all clicked their tongues. Despite their clear dissatisfaction, they sat back down. "Paciencia. Paciencia. You know how many décadas I've spent looking like this and you talk to me about paciencia?"
"Problems will always arise. This, KillGore knows." KillGore spoke sagely. "But however insurmountable a problem seems, the tides can shift at any moment, with enough time."
"That's how it's always been. Your liberation from the Morel Islands, or Spring earning his place back into the cult." KillGore noted. "These impossible problems have been and will be resolved by simply waiting for the right moment to strike. Nothing is made to last, and suddenly an unsolvable problem," lightning flashed before them, striking within the pen and making KillGore smile, "is handed a solution."
A Charged Creeper trotted away from a scorched spot in the stone where the lightning struck. The boom had been deafening and had Carmen's clones covering their ears, but Spring surged to his feet and exited the shelter with KillGore to examine the Mob that was instrumental to their plan.
"See? Patience." KillGore repeated. "And you will be kept busy while we await another Charged Creeper. Attend to this one."
"Okay." Spring nodded before turning to Carmen. "Get to Portal 3!" He called over the thunder. The clones nodded and all of them entered the labeled Nether Portal, warping to the other dimension.
Spring walked around the outskirts of the pen, drawing the nearest Creepers to him, including the one with the crackling electric-blue coating. He took out a bow and started picking off the regular ones. Gunpowder and EXP fell to the ground as Spring kept killing until only the Charged Creeper was nearest to him.
He then carefully opened a fence gate to allow the Charged Creeper to move out of the pen. KillGore had made it as sort of a docking subchamber, allowing only one Mob to pass at a time and separating it from the rest of the pen. It was too risky letting too many Creepers pass.
Spring closed the gate as soon as the Charged Creeper passed, shooting backwards when he heard the Creeper start to hiss and flash. It subsided, mercifully, and spared Spring a grisly death. He then continued to guide the Mob forward. The subchamber lined up directly with Portal 3, and by getting on the other side of it, the Mob moved through the swirling purple vortex and was sent to the Nether.
Spring waited for precisely two minutes before daring to enter after the Charged Creeper.
"KillGore has this under control." KillGore assured while checking the pen and grinder. "I'll have more Charged Creepers waiting for you, so try and bring back a Wither skull."
"We will." Spring nodded before stepping through the portal.
His vision swam and the alien noises of the portal filled his ears, drowning out the thunder and rain. When he stepped out, he was on dry, baked netherrack. There was no dampness underfoot or in the air, and his soaked clothes were already starting to dry.
The reason he waited two minutes before following after the Charged Creeper was because he needed to give Carmen time to secure it.
Towering over him and the portal frame was a kneeling, grande-sized Carmen. One hand was planted on the ground for support while the other was firmly wrapped around the electic-coated Creeper. As expected, it didn't detonate. Carmen had already proven that Mobs wouldn't target her, and at her current size, she'd have no trouble carrying a Mob across the Nether. The Charged Creeper was perfectly docile in her hand so long as Spring didn't get too close to it.
This was the plan for transporting Charged Creepers to the Nether Fortress. If a Charged Creeper exploding could make Zombies and Skeletons drop Heads, maybe it would work the same way with Wither Skeletons. It was just a matter of getting the Creepers to a Nether Fortress, like the one Carmen had located.
They would also need Spring there to trigger the explosion. The Charged Creeper wouldn't detonate otherwise. He was reasonably terrified of getting between a Wither Skeleton and a Charged Creeper, but KillGore was hardly going to risk himself. The only thing Spring brought to the table - aside from this brilliant idea - was that he was willing to take the risks that no one else could. He was expendable. He was a grunt.
So he'd do the grunt work.
"The Fortaleza is that way." Carmen pointed down a slope of netherrack, across some soul sand, and towards a sea of magma. She set down her free hand palm up, allowing Spring to clamber aboard, holding her thumb for steadiness when she brought her hand up. She curled her fingers to secure him and brought the hand to rest against her belly. At the same time, she held the Charged Creeper high and away from him. Then she started moving.
Zombie Pigmen meandered in packs and paid her no mind as she picked her way down the netherrack slope. She sunk slightly into the soul sand, but it barely slowed her strides down. The magma blocks and fires didn't singe her either. Spring made a mental note of the portal so that they wouldn't lose it, but he was sure Carmen knew the area better after having already gone to the Fortress and back.
Mercifully, she didn't jump into the sea of lava like last time. She dipped one foot in and lowered herself gracefully, resting on the netherrack shore while she made things as accommodating as possible for her two passengers. She held the Charged Creeper high above her head and away from the lava while she brought the hand with Spring to a strand of hair beside her left ear. He tangled himself in it like a safety line and, once he was safely situated, she lowered herself into the sea of lava up to her chest.
Then she started swimming in one direction.
"It's not too far of a swim. Aguántalo. Just bear with the heat for a little while."
Spring nodded before wiping the sweat off his forehead. Carmen seemed content paddling along in lava when before she had been miserable in the rain. She really was at home in the Nether. Nothing could hurt her here.
"This is a nice change of pace from riding around in your bandana." Carmen's vibrato voice chattered amicably.
"Maybe if I have you dangling over a pool of water." Spring countered, swinging from the strand of hair. "I would have preferred a Fortress accessible via land."
"Te tengo. I've got you."
"And the Charged Creeper. You have to remember you have a - Hey! HEY!" Spring's sudden screaming made the Hybrid realize her arm was dipping dangerously close to the lava. In a burst of strength, Carmen raised her arm high just before lava could pour over her closed fist and burn the Creeper. It remained docile, unaware of how close it had come to death, though it had its eyes fixed on the nearest Crafter - Spring.
"L-lo siento." Carmen's vibrato warbled abashedly. "Swimming is tough with un brazo and another held high like this."
"You don't have to swim. Magma Cubes float."
"Cabrón! I still need to paddle and kick to go anywhere!" She argued. "Besides, I don't want this thing getting too close to you. I've heard how devastating these things can be when charged. Gran auge."
"You'll be fine. Even if you explode, it'll just split you up."
"No soy yo la que me preocupa. It's not me I'm worried about."
Before Spring could think of something to say, an unsettling wail carried across the sea of lava. A Ghast was floating high in the air, its eyes settling on Spring.
"UehuehEEEIH!"
It spat a fireball their way and Carmen began to panic with her hands full keeping everyone afloat.
Spring's eyes sharpened. He grabbed hold of Carmen's strand of hair and kicked off her neck to get the momentum for a swing. He drew his sword a swung into the path of the fireball, batting it straight back at the sender.
The Ghast uttered a sad death noise as it was killed by its own projectile, the Ghast Tear and EXP falling into the lava and burning to nothing.
Carmen blinked in amazement. "D-Dios mío. You really sprung into action."
"...If that was intentional, I'm going to throw myself into the lava." Spring looked emotionlessly into the hot, bubbling, fiery, liquid death. "Right now."
"No! Sin juego de palabras! Sin juego de palabras!"
Carmen's vibrato carried across the Nether as she continued to swim forward with Charged Creeper in tow.
Inventory (Cobb): 1 Carved Pumpkin, 1 Leather Tunic [Dyed Green], 1 Diamond Leggings [Projectile Protection IV], 1 Diamond Boots [Protection IV, Feather Falling IV, Depth Strider III], 1 Fishing Rod {Backlash} [Knockback II, Luck of the Sea III, Unbreaking III] {Weak}, 1 Diamond Sword [Sweeping Edge III], 12 Cobblestone, 2 Glass, 16 Ender Pearls, 9 Ender Pearls, 56 Glass Bottles, 1 Stone Pickaxe, 1 Furnace, 17 Flint, 1 Flint and Steel, 17 Oak Wood Planks, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Clock, 1 Water Bucket, 1 Lava Bucket, 1 Milk Bucket, 10 Coal, 64 Snowballs, 11 Snowballs, 4 Ender Chests, 29 Obsidian, 49 Steak, 2 End Crystals, 10 Rotten Flesh, 1 Book {How to Kill Stuff for Numb Nuts}, 1 Book {Advanced Mob-Slaying}, 1 Book {Mobs of the Nether}, 1 Book {Mobs of the Bounty Days}, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}, 1 Green Shulker Box {Pocket Box}
Green Shulker Box {Pocket Box}: 64 Eyes of Ender, 64 Chorus Fruit, 1 Potion of Strength II {1:30}, 1 Potion of Regeneration II {0:22}
[EXP: 38]
Inventory (Lenz): 1 Chainmail Helmet, 1 Dragon Head, 1 Chainmail Chestplate, 1 Chainmail Leggings, 1 Chainmail Boots, 32 Pumpkin Seeds, 1 Iron Dagger, 16 Ender Pearls, 13 Cobblestone, 1 Compass, 25 Gunpowder, 1 Bow, 1 Bow [Infinity], 1 Crossbow, 42 Arrows, 1 Crafting Table, 20 Steak, 1 Stick, 63 Chorus Fruit, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Book {Notebook}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Daymonte Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Akasha Entry Pass}, 1 Red Shulker Box {Pocket Box}, 1 Gray Shulker Box {Pocket Box}
Red Shulker Box {Pocket Box}: 1 Shears, 1 Lever, 9 Redstone Torches, 8 Redstone Repeaters, 3 Redstone Comparators, 18 Blocks of Redstone, 2 Hoppers, 3 Pistons, 2 Sticky Pistons, 1 Book {Airship Piloting 101}
Gray Shulker Box {Pocket Box}: 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 1 Crossbow, 63 Arrows of Poison {0:11}, 64 Arrows of Harming II, 64 Arrows of Harming II, 63 Arrows of Weakness {0:30}, 60 Arrows of Slowness {0:30}, 64 Arrows of Fire Resistance {1:00}, 64 Arrows of Healing II, 64 Arrows of Invisibility {1:00}, 64 Arrows of Leaping {1:00}, 64 Arrows of Slow Falling {0:30}, 64 Arrows of Night Vision {1:00}, 64 Arrows of Strength II {0:12}, 64 Arrows of Swiftness {1:00}, 63 Arrows of Swiftness II {0:11}, 64 Arrows of Water Breathing {1:00}
[EXP: 21]
Inventory (Baltic): 1 Iron Helmet [Protection III, Unbreaking III], 1 Iron Chestplate [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Iron Leggings [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Iron Boots [Protection III, Unbreaking III], 1 Iron Sword [Sharpness II, Unbreaking III], 1 Shield, 1 Bow, 1 Diamond Pickaxe [Silk Touch I, Mending I, Unbreaking II], 10 Arrows, 3 Brewing Stands, 1 Water Bucket, 28 Bones, 1 Ender Chest, 1 Map {Paragon Minecraftia}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Gold Citizenship Pass}, 26 Emeralds, 1 Lingering Potion of Slowness {1:00}, 1 Lingering Potion of Slowness {1:00}, 1 Lingering Potion of Healing II {0:05}, 1 Lingering Potion of Harming II {0:05}, 1 Lingering Potion of Harming II {0:05}, 1 Lingering Potion of Harming II {0:05}, 1 Splash Potion of Swiftness II {1:30}, 1 Splash Potion of Swiftness II {1:30}, 1 Blue Shulker Box {Pocket Box}
Blue Shulker Box {Pocket Box}: 64 Glass Bottles, 64 Dragon's Breath, 64 Dragon's Breath, 45 Blaze Powder, 42 Nether Warts, 30 Soul Sand, 63 Phantom Membranes , 64 Blaze Rods, 20 Fermented Spider Eyes, 58 Carrots, 55 Melon Slices, 55 Rabbit's Feet, 50 Golden Ingots, 1 Golden Nugget, 55 Gunpowder, 54 Redstone Dust, 55 Glowstone Dust
[EXP: 30]
Inventory (Z7): 1 Diamond Helmet [Protection III, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Chestplate [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Leggings [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Boots [Protection III, Unbreaking III], 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Iron Pickaxe, 32 Cobblestone, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Furnace, 21 Charcoal, 14 Torches, 9 Oak Wood Planks, 1 Cake, 1 Cake, 1 Cake, 7 Pumpkin Pies, 36 Baked Potatoes, 1 Bucket, 1 Potion of Swiftness II {1:30}, 1 Potion of Slow Falling {4:00}, 1 Map {Paragon Minecraftia}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Gold Citizenship Pass}, 1 Purple Shulker Box {Pocket Box}
[EXP: 42]
Inventory (Floyd): 1 Mob Head {Creeper}, 1 Iron Sword, 1 Diamond Helmet [Projectile Protection IV], 1 Diamond Chestplate [Projectile Protection IV], 1 Diamond Leggings [Projectile Protection IV], 1 Iron Pickaxe, 1 Shears, 5 Cobwebs, 2 Iron Ingots, 64 Steak, 10 Steak, 2 Sticks, 29 Coal, 20 Torches, 1 Fishing Rod, 1 Furnace, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Minecart, 1 Bed, 1 Boat, 1 Diamond Boots [Projectile Protection IV], 16 Gunpowder, 16 Ender Pearls, 2 Ender Pearls, 1 Splash Potion of Invisibility {8:00}, 1 Bucket, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}
[EXP: 44]
Buckner's Horse
Inventory (Soul): 1 Diamond Axe [Sharpness V], 1 Iron Pickaxe, 62 Iron Ingots, 20 Flint, 12 Gold Ingots, 1 Shears, 8 Cobwebs, 1 Milk Bucket, 1 Diamond Helmet [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Iron Chestplate, 1 Diamond Leggings [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Boots [Protection IV, Feather Falling IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Crafting Table, 1 Jukebox, 1 Music Disc {chirp}, 1 Bed, 1 Furnace, 24 Torches, 34 White Wool, 23 Dirt, 11 Pumpkin Seeds, 64 Cobblestone, 62 Cobblestone, 32 Jungle Wood Planks, 1 Armor Stand, 24 Steak, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}
[EXP: 41]
Devers' Horse
Cat-Face the Cat
Christopher Squawken the Parrot
Inventory (Noman): 1 Diamond Sword [Sharpness I], 1 Diamond Chestplate {Severe Shield}, 1 Leather Boots {Bottes Zephyr} [Dyed White], 1 Iron Helmet, 1 Iron Chestplate, 1 Iron Leggings, 1 Iron Boots, 1 Green Shield [Beginners], 1 Iron Pickaxe, 64 Cobblestone, 63 Nether Warts, 20 Soul Sand, 1 Flint and Steel, 1 Shears, 10 Cobwebs, 1 Milk Bucket, 1 Water Bucket, 5 Buckets, 1 Bed, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Brewing Stand, 37 Glass Bottles, 1 Water Bottle, 1 Water Bottle, 2 Ender Chests, 16 Ender Pearls, 4 Ender Pearls, 8 Steak, 3 Phantom Membranes, 63 Glowstone Dust, 31 Gunpowder, 19 Redstone Dust, 63 Blaze Powder, 64 Golden Nuggets, 64 Brown Mushrooms, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Enchanted Golden Apple
[EXP: 35]
Snow the Horse
AN: Z7 will be here all week. (Not really.)
I hate writing for Carmen. Spanish is annoying. And I hate writing for Z7 UNLESS it's from Lenz's perspective, because he understands Jibberish. Makes it so much easier.
I hope you guys enjoyed Z7's material. She's a better assassin than comedian, but she's happy to finally have someone to hear her jokes. If you think about her humor playing off how similar certain words sound, it makes little sense. She speaks in Jibberish - those words don't mean anything to her. It's why she can't exactly use Homonyms, but Homophones are fair game. Also, there are no microphones, yet she's doing a mic check. Don't think about it too much. It's Normal Sense - the be all umbrella excuse.
We learned a bit more about Z7's background. This was more a Lenz chapter than anything. The perspective was all his. Also the Endward Cult is moving and Spring's plan is proceeding.
Now, time for another My Craft Stew Omake.
My Craft Stew: Better than Parole
Nine renowned criminals gathered together in a darkened room. After being sprung from Ringwood's prison, they swore allegiance to a new master – a master they were waiting to arrive and take command of their particular talents.
Given that it was for the Endward Cult, they were sure their objectives would be bloody. Many of the gathered criminals showed an eagerness to get started.
"What's taking him so long~? I want to twist some faces with pain!" Cyan_Gift moaned.
"The Holy Water's patience is finite. I must present the Holy Water with devout believers, washing away their sins through the cleansing currents." Drowned_One intoned. "Such is my holy purpose."
"I wanna burn Jolin!" PearlyKeen proclaimed. "Also Oak Docks, if there's time."
"You'd burn a resort, Hollyhock?" Lemonada leaned forward in her seat. "I won't allow it. The beaches of Oak Docks are breathtaking."
"The only thing breathtaking is the Holy Water."
"Yes, yes, Seaweed. Go put Keen out."
"Zzzz…"
"We should be establishing an information network." Mox_Faith demurred. "Knowledge is everything."
"Mox is right." Xx-Brand_Unforseen-xX, or Brandeen, supported. "We shouldn't just be sitting around. We repay our savior by expanding our influence. We're his arms and legs."
"And ears." Mox added.
"Can I switch seats please? Keen's trying to set me on fire." Erma_Gourd said nervously.
"Nobody likes a tattle-tale."
Erma frowned before a knock on the door called the nine criminals to attention. Even the slumbering Sam_Vatar and the quiet Maira_Kahel looked up.
It was then that the door opened and their savior entered.
"Hey everyone. Sorry I'm late." Nowhere_Man, or Noman as he preferred, apologized. "Ember had me in for a meeting."
"It's quite alright, little Daisy." Lemonada forgave. "We understand you're a busy man. We've just been talking while you were away."
"Right. Well. Introductions." Noman placed his hands on the table and gave a friendly smile. "My name is Lieutenant Nowhere_Man, but you can just call me Noman. I manage half of the cultists in the Northern Division—my partner manages the other half. And so long as I'm in charge, you'll always feel welcome. I know it must have been rough locked away in prison for some time. It'll be better now."
"Yeah! We'll show those bastards!"
"Hey, language young lady!" Noman reprimanded of Keen, who looked slightly taken aback.
"Oh, uh, sorry?"
"It's alright. Just watch your words. As a matter of fact, I'm glad this has been brought up. There will be no swearing of any kind in this organization." The criminals shared quizzical looks at such a peculiar demand. "Anyone who disobeys will have to pay an emerald per violation. That way we can break the bad habit. No need to use words that crass in a fit of anger."
"Swear jars aside," Mox steered the topic somewhere else, "perhaps it'd be best you fill us in on what we've been sprung from prison for. We are your humble servants, Noman. Our skills are at your disposal. What nefarious schemes have you got planned?"
Noman beamed happily. "I'm glad you asked."
"Oh, Mox, you missed some trash on your left over there. Can you get that? Thanks!"
Mox listlessly picked up a piece of leather before tossing it into a garbage barrel. Currently, she and the other eight freed prisoners were picking up trash under the freshly constructed Trans-Kingdom Railway. That was the extent of the nefarious schemes Noman had planned for them.
"Stupid fucking Crafters throwing trash from the railway…" Brandeen muttered spitefully to himself.
"Now Brandeen…" Noman warned.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm putting it in the chest!" Brandeen fished an emerald from his pocket and stuffed it into an overflowing chest. It wasn't the first time today he had to pay tribute to the swear jar, and it wouldn't be the last.
"What does any of this have to do with the Endward Cult's grand goal?" Maira complained. "We're doing community service for free!"
"We shouldn't question our savior's intentions." Mox defended lamely. Even she was having trouble finding a point to it all. It didn't help that Cyan was openly contemplating killing Noman, inching closer and closer to him with Splash Potions of Poison hanging off her belt.
"Ugh!" Drowned winced as he suddenly caught fire. He doused himself immediately with a bucket of water – offering a quick prayer to the Holy Water as he did so – but he turned to glare at an innocently whistling Keen. "How dare you set me ablaze. You disrespect the Holy Water."
"I was just trying to warm you up. You looked cold." Keen smirked before sputtering as Drowned shoved her head into a stream of water he poured.
"I am just giving you a bath. You look like you need one."
"GRBLBRBL!"
"Look at the little puppies, my child."
"Do I have to separate you two?" Noman asked seriously, making Drowned stop and Keen come out gasping for air. "We need to hurry up and finish, otherwise we'll be late for our shift at the soup kitchen. Then we need to find loving owners for that litter of kittens."
Sam blinked before turning to Lemonada. "Can you do me a solid and kill me?"
"Yeah."
"HAWAWAWAA!" Erma exclaimed, running around and swinging her swords in such a way that she was scooping up trash and depositing it in the garbage barrels in record time.
"Excellent work, Erma!" Noman praised. "You're a natural!"
"Yay, I'm helpful!" She smiled happily before HAWAWA-ing away in a tornado of blades.
By the end of the day, the nine prisoners had either killed themselves, turned themselves in to escape the madness of community service, or inexplicable grew accustomed to charity work and decided to do it all the time with Noman.
"I can't believe so many of them died so suddenly." Noman cried. "All of them crushed to death by falling anvils. I didn't think the climate could support anvil precipitation. I've failed to protect their precious lives."
"Don't worry, Noman." Erma reassured. "I'm sure they would want us to keep bettering the lives of those around us. Now come on! Let's go teach the blind how to read!"
"And rescue baby pandas from those poachers!"
"And bathe those elderly and infirm Crafters!"
""YEAH~"" They cheered in unison before running off into the sunset.
AN: Yeah, we just put Noman in charge of the parole program and all our worst inmates are either dead, begging to come back, or genuinely reformed. That guy's a force of nature.
FAV. FOLLOW. REVIEW. PM. FORUM. DISCORD. PEANUTS.
