Deadbeat Pseudo
Chapter 2
The Wither Triplets
It's a rainy day on the plains, and the rivers are mildly flooding. The sky's grey, the wind is at a level where it stings my face, and thunder crackles overhead, while I'm soaked to the bone, slogging through mud, and in general not having a good time.
But I need to find this thing, stat.
Rumor holds that in a bay near here, there's a live Wither under the sand and clay, or at least there's the health bar of one. According to chatter I've heard, though, there's no actual Wither. Just ocean and the health bar. I've been out there myself - I could sense a presence, but nothing attacked me and there was no noise made besides squids splashing in the water.
I don't like things like that. Weird occurrences such as these not only make me nervous, but also give me a feeling halfway between nausea and the chill of icy water. It's not a good feeling.
So here I am, tracking the faint feeling in the pit of my stomach despite common sense telling me not to.
It doesn't take long for me to hear something - specifically, someone speaking.
"Ay Mister-"
"-You look-"
"-Lost."
The voices sound nearly the same, but each one has a slightly different tone to it. I whip around towards the source of the sound and find the gaping maw of a gigantic cavern. Three figures are standing just barely in the light.
"Seriously though."
"D'you need help?"
"Because it seems like it."
I raise my voice to call down to them. "I'm looking for a Wither that won't appear in the bay over there. Do you-"
"-IT'S NOT OUR FAULT." Their voices sync with each other, and that feeling in the pit of my stomach becomes very, very uncomfortable. I take a step back.
"Could you guys come out?" Nervous as I am, I wave to them and try to look friendly. "I can't see you down there."
They leap forwards and up at the same time, practically flying at me, and I jump back, startled.
"I'm Mitre." The one with a slightly silvery voice steps forward and bows; he's wearing all white from head to toe. His skin's pale, almost white as well, but his eyes are pitch-black. Despite the unnerving feeling they give me, he seems fairly friendly.
"Ultor." The one farthest to the right is the polar opposite of Mitre, and his voice is overly casual and rather deep. He's wearing all black, his skin's nearly just as dark, and his eyes are as white as snow.
"Carthage at your service." The last one, who speaks in a self-important tone, is dressed in a grey halfway between the other two's colors. His skin is ashen and his eyes are too - he almost seems to be entirely made of the same color.
"I'm PH-37. Call me Herobrine if the numbers are too much trouble."
At the mention of my title, the three of them start whispering back and forth at an alarmingly fast pace, one so speedy I can hardly tell any of what they're saying.
"PH-"
"-Pseudo-"
"-geist-"
"-Edit-"
"-the Vi-"
"-e cou-"
"-resist-"
"-but if-"
"-o 'cau-"
"-then a-"
"-if he s-"
"-ave to."
"Can you help us out with something?" They seem to have come to an agreement now, as they're facing me once more and speaking in unison.
It's at this point in time that I decide to throw caution to the winds - after all, these three may very well have something to do with my Mission.
"Yes. I'll help you three, what needs to be done?"
"See, we were once-"
"-a normal Wither-"
"-until someone came-"
"-and Edited us."
"If you can-"
"-please make them-"
"-change us back-"
"-or at the least-"
"-kill them."
I nod solemnly, a little frightened at the prospect of fighting someone that could create these three from a bog-standard Wither. "I'll do it. How do I start?"
Ultor gives me a friendly grin. "I'll help you in combat. I know weaknesses, dirty and clean tricks, the whole book of war if you will. Just think the word and I've got your back."
Carthage raises a hand calmly. "I know all there is to know about biomes and blocks, whether modded or vanilla. Call on me if you need navigation or identification help."
Mitre just nods. "I'm good at anything to do with communication. If you have trouble finding the right words, ask me for them."
"Good luck, PH-37."
The three of them vanish suddenly, leaving me disoriented and a bit confused. The feeling in the pit of my stomach is gone now, though, and the rain seems to have cleared up while I was talking to the triplets.
It's a bit nicer out now. Sure, it's still muddy, I'm still wet, and there are still high winds, but they're blowing sea breeze in now, my hair and clothes are drying, and I'm one step closer to the end of my Mission.
And I need to find whoever changed those guys, stat.
((That's the second chapter, folks! It's a little shorter than the last one, but hopefully the content's just as good. Please review, Lucas wants to know if his life seems interesting to you guys.))
((-Ivy))