Chapter Five: Tattoos of Memories and Dead Skin on Trial
"Your kingdom? It isn't yours, and I doubt it will ever be yours. I swear to Notch, you must be a failed abortion whose birth certificate is an apology letter from the condom factory," Stacy retorted, leaving Bleu to drop a little bomb into both open mouths, and several others to turn away to cry in peace – while laughing. Some third-degree burn, but the only problem was that the little insult-to-donkeys were almost considered immune to Nether-related everything.
To be honest, one of the two faces looked like it caught on fire and some nuthut tried to put it out with a shovel. Then they spewed out two tiny splats of what looked like liquid diorite and a lot of reasons why the current not-so-Lovely World was better than what it used to be…which went on for at least fifteen precious minutes. At the end of it, Isa calmly responded, "Thanks for telling us your point of view, I really have tried looking at it that way. But there is one small problem – I can't seem to get my head that far up my rear end. Can you show me?"
Which then left everyone else in tears, or in a couple of cases, o-shaped mouths. Prim and proper Isa, Founder of Sky City and co-leader of Oaken Valley, so polite and so much like a magma block. The big one just snarled, "I can eat a potful of alphabet soup and c**p a better argument than yours!" Nurm shouted something back that hardly anyone understood. Luckily, they had a translator with them. "He said that it'll be a nice change from all the sh*t that's been coming out of the hole that makes you look like a dumb*** every time you open it!"
He looked still. So very still. Like a statue, a lemon, even. Then he drew a bow, gleaming a faint silvery purple-lilac. Enchanted. And he fired, shouting some form of language, perhaps a mix between a war cry, insults and profanity. The lady on the gold-armoured horse let loose a round bottle of potion, that looked like one of Ninja Ivor's smoke bombs, but a mix of grey, deep grey, sky blue, dark khaki, purple and a deep grey-black…bistre, in different patches. All of their mobs were sporting regen effect, and none of them were ready for such a ranged assault, except for archery equipment. Sh*t.
They had to build a shield wall. Fast. They did, with andesite, polished diorite, granite, end stone, cobble, prismarine, nether-brick, bone blocks and emerald blocks. (Hey, they had a villager there!) They had to settle it as a base, after building four extra walls and a roof to prevent pest invasions. After all, they were surrounded by ones that wanted to kill them, including a polar bear with her cub. For some reason, they ignored the huge bulge in the middle of the oh-so-friendly path up to the fortress. Probably because they ran right through the cloud and got blindness (as well as weakness, levitation, mining fatigue, nausea and wither).
"Sheesh, do they only attack with that? Minions and ranged attacks?" Isa asked. "Exactly. It's usually that without the animals and googlies." By the time the entire army had passed by, they had not only built the shelter, but also added a furnace, a crafting table, a brewing stand, a couple of chests and some other stuff.
Petra's face was a mask. An emotionless mask, her dark eyes steely and ungazing, as though she was taking a trip down memory lane. What the frick was going on?
It was eight or nine or so years ago. She was thirteen, just poking around outside her house in the night. Her father, Japheth Goldenblaze had gone out as someone had called him out. She only heard the response in her father's deep voice, "Me? Join him? No way, eight-limbs, no way. Never." Those were his final words. Her mother, Kirsten died of grief a few days after that. Yet before…that, she took note of her father's killer. He had six arms, long fangs dripping with green liquid, red eyes and bluish hair. That…thing looked like a person and a cave spider fused together. She found the term in a book of myths and legends, True Apologues. Hybrid. As in, a member of the elite army of the god with white eyes. A hybrid had killed her father.
The duo used the signature weapons of two certain mobs. Mob-like humans. Plus, they were evil…of course. It must be the case. It had to be.
After a good few hours of just waiting and strategizing and perhaps moping (in one case), Petra popped out of the tiny cuboid according to no plan whatsoever. Her eyes had an unusual hardness in them, like when she was raging and unconsciously insulting the YouTubers back at the Mansion. Stubborn. Determined. Hard like the stone she was named after. Along with a spark of something they had nearly never seen in her before.
"You two! I've got news about you, other than the fact that you're dead ones walking!" she bellowed, marching up to the nether-brick fort, Miss Butter in hand. She somehow knew that everyone else had her back. She knew she wasn't alone.
"What? The fact that there's no changing our clearly superior status in this world?" VD countered. The dark violet eyes were bright with malice and power, almost as though she had a backstabbing, guileful plan whirling within her mind. The other pair, glaring back, was gleaming with darkness and unyieldingness. "I'm saying that you're not as you seem. You're not human, are you?"
Veeva Dash's smirk didn't shrink into whatever. Then it seemed as though she had just thrown a nonexistent explosion potion. "Well, you got it right. Witch NGH here, and half-skeleton there. If you wanna kill us for that, go on. Just don't forget to kill your little army general too."
A/N: Dun dun duuuuun! NGH means Next-Generation Hybrid, BTW. Remember that I own the Hybrid theory. Ariza Luca has nothing to do with it, I swear on every existing god in every universe. All she did was give me a bit of the boost I needed to apply this theory to my stories, so thank you!
So now you know a bit of Petra's backstory. Just loved writing the roasting war, ha-ha! What in the name of Firmitudas is going on, you may be wondering, with the end of the chapter. Next chapter, wonderers, if you are, well, wondering! As long as you don't forget to R&R (duh)!