AN: Alrighty. Looks like the site is properly fixed... for now.

Just in time for a nice Chapter. Not to say the last one was bad. Just lackluster. Hopefully this one will be better.

Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I'd add Duckies.

Chapter 168

The Nine Plagues

[Ember's Office: Endward Cult New Northern Division HQ]

Ensuring she had an office was one of the first things Ember made sure of when moving to the new HQ in Lazuli. It wasn't done out of selfishness. She just needed a space where she could gather her thoughts and feel at home. She was an Executive. She reserved the right of dibs on an office out of principle.

Having an office also gave her a space to call up cultists who had failed her so she could show displeasure and offer stern warnings.

It's how Spring_Fever found himself in her office.

"Sit." Ember commanded, pointing to the chair. Spring sat down instantly, his expression tense as Ember regarded him with her piercing light-blue eyes. Normally, he could look at those beautiful orbs for days. But today, it felt like they'd burn holes through him if he met her gaze.

Ember let the silence drag on for a while, both of their breaths visible in the air from the extreme cold underground. She'd have to set up internal heating sometime in the future, but that was an issue for another day. Today, all her attention was on Spring.

"You were tasked with killing all the cows in Ringwood's Eastern District." Ember began, her arms folded before her on her desk and her eyes never leaving Spring. "You were granted a group of cultists to command and did as bidden. Thanks to your efforts, Ringwood was without cows to draw milk from to counter the effects of the Wither. I received reports from the Head gatherers that many afflicted Crafters fled to the Eastern District in search of milk, only to lose all hope at the slain cows."

"Thank you, m—"

"Be that as it may," she cut him off before he could start, "most of the cultists I sent with you did not return. I've spoken with the ones who did, and they told me your group engaged with the band of Crafters called the Silver Intent." Ember scowled, her displeasure clear. "Is that true?"

"I—"

"I see." Ember answered for him, her Soul-Gaze picking him apart. "You overextended in fighting with them and lost your men. Quite wastefully if I'm being honest."

"They attacked us first!" Spring blurted out, desperate to explain himself. "We were killing the cows as ordered, but the Silver Intent noticed and attacked! We were defending ourselves for the sake of the mission!"

"Defending yourself is one thing if they were between you and the cows, but, as my Soul-Gaze has already told me, you killed the last of the cows before the Silver Intent attacked." Her eyes narrowed. "Your mission was accomplished. You had every right to fall back and let the Wither do the rest. There was no reason to engage in a fight with the Silver Intent. There was no reason to linger and let Flawwed_Floyd tear up your men."

"You said the Silver Intent was working against us!"

"I also said to let the Wither handle things. If I had wanted the Silver Intent fully wiped out, I would have arranged for another group to go after them. Instead I focused on Ringwood's destruction, knowing that an intelligence organization could hardly operate in a ruined Kingdom. They would have been routed on their own—you didn't have to waste the lives of our comrades!"

"I thought Next Life meant no lives are wasted. Or don't you believe that—?" Spring gave a strangled gasp as Ember shot out of her chair, her fingers gripping the desk so tightly that cracks were forming. He had questioned her beliefs. She looked down upon Spring like he was garbage and he instantly wished he could take it back.

Ember's expression was downright furious and Spring tried to melt into his chair to avoid those piercing light-blue eyes before Ember spoke lowly and dangerously. "I speak of wasted lives in the sense that our comrades could have done more to liberate this realm before they passed on. They could have done more for our cause, and I wish them all the happiness they can afford in whatever Next Life they find themselves in."

Her eyes slid shut. "But they could have done more. Freed more. Served more and lent more of their strength. They followed you for our cause and were fully prepared to leave this realm, but they didn't have to. Not this early. The Northern Division could still have used those brave men and women. Their premature liberation is just a waste of potential in my eyes." Those eyes snapped open and fixed upon Spring. "A waste of potential… just like you."

Spring felt his heart drop.

"I was wrong about you, Spring." Ember continued, disappointment clear in her tone. "I thought I saw potential in you. I thought you could be better than 4Blite, but it's clear you're as impulsive as he is, willing to sacrifice subordinates just to get ahead."

"N-No! Never!" Spring tried to deny, but Ember went on.

"Don't lie. I can see it with my Soul-Gaze. You purposefully engaged with the Silver Intent to put another feather in your black leather cap, not once thinking of the division as a whole. We only triumphed over Ringwood by dividing the work. All of us, working together towards a single goal. No one man can change the world, Spring. Even our Founder had his cultists. And before the cultists he had his treacherous friends. But you?" Ember narrowed her eyes. "You would have pointlessly pitted cultists against Silver Intent until neither side remained."

"There has to be a point to it, Spring." Ember shook her head. "There always has to be a point to it."

There was a long silence as Ember's words haunted Spring, making him feel worthless. He didn't think she'd figure out what he only went through with on a whim. It was a spur of the moment when he ordered the cultists to slaughter the Silver Intent. He didn't… he wasn't thinking about...

But he had been thinking about it. Thinking about the praise when he went above and beyond what was ordered of him. He wanted to impress Ember. He wanted to show her that her faith in him wasn't misplaced. He wanted to show her his worth.

Instead, she subjected him to the worst insult she could conceive: He was no better than 4Blite. He was no better than the sacrificing bastard with ice in his veins.

He felt lower than low, and he hated it.

"I thought you had the potential." Spring flinched as the words kept coming, piercing his skin like Floyd's smoky barbs. "I'm usually right with my intuition, but I think I know the problem with you." Ember paused to tap a finger on her desk as she considered him. "It's your motivation. You don't fully believe in our cause. To you, this is just a way to kill Crafters. You don't truly believe in Next Life." Her words dropped an octave lower. "You don't believe in Herobrine."

Spring's gaze snapped up and his hand flew to his sword, feeling like his life was in danger. He was sweating in this cold. The sword may as well have been a flower when faced with Ember. She was an Executive with an EXP level of 105. Spring's was a mere 34—most combatants never made it past 40. Her strength was magnitudes above his. If she grabbed his arm and squeezed, she'd turn the bone to dust.

"I'm not going to liberate you." Ember assured, her eyes tracking Spring like he was an ant on her desk. "I'm simply acknowledging what I pointed out the first time we met: You don't believe in our cause. To you, this is just a means to an end." Ember stood up from her seat and gazed coolly at a sweating Spring.

"It's time we rectify that."

Spring gulped as Ember paced behind him and stopped there. He didn't like that she was behind him and he couldn't see what she was doing. Every nerve was on edge, and he desperately clung to her assurance that she wasn't going to kill him here.

He nearly jumped out of her chair when she rested a hand on his shoulder. He would have too, if her insane strength wasn't holding him in his seat. He could feel the power radiating from her.

"You will be accompanying me on a mission to the Morel Islands." She announced, shocking Spring. What was so important about that island of mushrooms? "We've received intel that our Founder left us something there. Something of great power. As such, I will be going there personally to check it out, along with Abyssmal, a promising new recruit, 4Blite, one of his freshly freed lackeys, and you." There was no room for argument. He was going to the Morel Islands. End of story.

"There, you will experience a taste of Herobrine's true power, I'm sure." He could hear the smile in Ember's voice. "This trip will do you wonders. I'll make a believer out of you yet, Spring."

"However." The frown was back in place and Ember lightly squeezed, putting pressure on both his shoulders and causing him to cry out. "You will follow orders. You will not make any attempts to impress me. You are only there as a witness, and only so that I can show you why I put my faith in Herobrine many years ago."

The pressure let up and Ember released him, allowing Spring to lurch forward and grab at his shoulders. He didn't like this side of Ember. He liked it better when she was content and pretty. He vaguely wondered if her short temper had anything to do with Jade's continued disappearance.

"Before, you caught my attention by exceeding Head quotas." Ember said. "That put you on the map, but now my interest's been used up. After Morel Islands, you're back to square one. You'll be just another cultist in my Division. Common." The word stung. "You want my attention again, you're going to have to earn it. The cult is evolving, Spring, and if you can't evolve with it, you'll be stuck at the bottom of the totem pole for the rest of your life. You're dismissed."

Spring rose from his seat and didn't dare meet Ember's eyes as he left the office like a wounded puppy. Her words bounced around his skull as he shut the door behind him and made for his quarters. He was sure the mission to the Morel Islands would be within a few days. He had to be ready for it.

He didn't know what he'd find on that island of mushrooms, but Ember seemed to think it would make him believe all that Next Life crap. He highly doubted it, wishing he could have fallen for someone without crazy beliefs.

He also wished a hole would swallow him up after just getting the third degree from his idol. After the mission, he'd be nothing to her. Nothing more than the common cultists that surrounded her at Gatherings like a throng of stalking fans. He didn't want to be that. But he didn't know what she wanted. He didn't know how he could believe in something so insane as Next Life. What was Herobrine smoking when he conned that up?

Still, an order was an order. He just hoped 4Blite wouldn't start something without Jade there running interference.

[Endward Cult New Northern Division HQ]

The move from the Ringwood HQ to the available space up north was an incomplete, protracted affair for the Northern Division.

For one, the command to change bases came swift and without warning. Ember wanted her Wither attacks and she wanted them damn quick. Cultists were ordered to dispose of evidence and move large amounts of gear and written information to a new base that was not properly fit to accommodate a division of cultists. As a result, only about a quarter of the Northern Division could relocate to the new HQ in Lazuli, intending to transform it into a proper base within the next couple of months.

Another thing was their vicious neighbors, the polar bears. Even look at one of their cubs the wrong way, and they'd rip you apart like toilet tissue.

Also, it was freaking cold.

Lazuli was the only place in Minecraftia with a snowy climate. No matter the season, snow covered the icy tundra like a blanket. A lot of cultists, used to Ringwood's moderate climate, were ill-equipped for life up north. They shed diamond and iron armor and instead bundled up in warm leather beside toasty fires.

The cold also made them less active. Cultists slept in, and not even the threat of 4Blite's involvement could rouse them.

4Blite was not faring well to the cold either. His dark skin was made for warmer climates, like in Oak Docks or Exter. Ringwood's moderate climate was fine, but Lazuli's frigid cold made the ice-cold Lieutenant even frostier to the touch. Only his fiery ambition kept him active.

Well, that and the warm news that his fellow Lieutenant was still missing.

He hardly ever smiled, but there was a slight curve to his lips whenever he saw her subdivision muttering worriedly about Jade's disappearance. There was no one left in the Northern Division to upstage him. Ember wouldn't be taking Jade to the Morel Islands; it would be just 4Blite. She had already promised him that while fretting over Jade. She wanted to send a search party to Ringwood for how useless it would be; Jade wouldn't stick around a wrecked Kingdom unless she was tied up.

4Blite would've been overjoyed if she died in the attack… but sadly, he had to acknowledge that Jade was smart and skilled. She wouldn't die to a Wither or the fires. The cultists assigned to accompany her that night had no idea what happened to her, much to Ember's ire. No matter how much she subjected them to her Soul-Gaze to learn the truth, she gleaned nothing new.

But serendipity worked in funny ways. Though the attack left Jade MIA, 4Blite found himself with a swell of followers for his subdivision. Ringwood's most wanted criminals answered to him. Swore loyalty to him. Served and followed him. They were tools he could use to expand his power and notoriety, and they'd be invaluable in securing the Southern Division Executive spot.

With the success of the Tragedy of Ringwood, people were starting to fear the Endward Cult. And fear, as 4Blite always maintained, led to respect. Crafters were seeking out cultists and requesting to join for fear of the destruction their Withers could cause. They wanted to be safe, even if it meant selling out their fellow man and joining people they considered 'psycho killers'. That didn't mean the Endward Cult would take anybody, but it meant that their ranks would swell as the months went on and news of Ringwood's fate spread.

The Angel of Death—Carys_Angel, took out a quarter of the Endward Cult twenty-five years ago. Now, they'd have the numbers to get it all back. The Southern Division would rise again with 4Blite at the helm.

And assisting him would be the elite of the prisoners he freed. The skilled and competent.

One of the first things he did when he brought those prisoners with him was issue a challenge. One-hundred Heads in one week. Any prisoner that could manage such a feat would be welcomed as a direct subordinate. The rest would become grunts, superior to cultists in loyalty alone. There was no rank beneath Lieutenant, but he'd invent one to have capable and loyal warriors at his command.

When issuing the hundred-Head challenge, he expected only two or three to fulfill the task.

He was pleasantly surprised when nine of the former prisoners passed his test. Nine-hundred Heads in only a week and none of them were gained from the Wither attack. They were all claimed from Lazuli's populace.

With their worth proven, 4Blite brought them all together in a reserved room far from prying eyes to officially welcome them into his inner circle.

Of course, what he hadn't counted on was their… unique personalities.

"This place is quite drab. Settling into a new base is no excuse to disregard taste. Put a few flowers and paintings around."

"Can I switch seats? My neighbor keeps setting me on fire." One asked with a raised burning sleeve, only to be put out by a bucket of water from the neighbor on her other side. "Oh. Thank you."

"Water is all encompassing and merciful. Water is the decider, snuffing out life or sparing it. Blessed be the water."

"…Anyone want to switch seats with me?"

"I'll switch." Another female raised her hand. "They try to burn or drown me and I'll poison them like dogs." Her face turned rapturous as she held up a green splash potion. "Though I wish I knew how to make a potion of that withering effect. Watching all those guards decay was so intense!"

"Yes. Thank you. Please switch seats with Erma, you crazy sadist. We'll take the introvert over you any day of the week."

"Is that one sleeping?"

"Zzzzz…"

"Now I know why they kept us in different cell blocks. It was to separate the normies from the crazies."

"I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me or how this flint and steel got into my hands—oh! I did it again! I'm such a pyroklutz!"

"Don't act like that's a regular thing and not a condition you suffer from!"

"I understand perfectly. I'm a poisonklutz, you see.

"For fuck's sake…"

"Let me guess, you were arrested for arson and you were arrested for sadism?"

"How'd you know!" Both voices spoke in unison, one genuine, one sarcastic.

"Quite the diverse bouquet of flowers we have today." One female noted while setting up paintings and flower pots in an effort to brighten the room. "Now… what would complete the ambiance?"

"QUIET." 4Blite snapped, his dark purple eyes glaring at the table of nine. At his command, all bickering ceased and the prisoners leaned back in their chairs (after two swapped seats).

The Lieutenant noted that while they all had their quirks and personalities, they quieted down and paid him their full attention when commanded. Even the snoozing one awoke. They were loyal and they killed a hundred people each to sit at that table before him.

The problem became how to organize them. The Lieutenants and Executives had their own skill sets to apply to certain jobs and were assigned accordingly. But he only had a vague idea of what the people before him could do. He heard of one or two of the criminals—their crimes were infamous, after all—but the crimes of the others eluded him. They were either too insignificant or else before his time. He needed to get a better handle on them.

"For all of you that passed my test," he began, "know that I am impressed. I did not anticipate this many to succeed."

"Shoulda raised the bar a bit more." The dozing one remarked, leaning down to rest his head in his folded arms.

4Blite's cold eyes snapped to him in a warning before continuing. "Be that as it may, I am unfamiliar with many of your crimes or what you are fully capable of." His eyes roved the nine faces. "Before I officially welcome you as my most trusted cultists, I ask that you share a bit about yourselves. A small introduction. Would anyone care to start?"

"Ooh! Ooh! I'll go first!" The pyromaniac and one of the ones 4Blite already knew about shot to her feet, her flint and steel flicking sparks idly in her hands. She wore a dopey grin on her face and was practically vibrating with excitement. She had shoulder length and roughly cut light grey hair and light grey eyes. Her belt and backpack were of the same color. She wore a red skirt and cropped red sweater and there was a wooden sword of all things at her belt.

"My name is PearlyKeen, but you can call me Keen, because I'm always keen!" She gave a beaming smile, showing off her pearly whites and the other half of her name. "I was responsible for a little faux pas in 420. You may have heard of it. It was the… uh… now what did they call it again?" She scratched her head with the flint of her lighter.

"The Blaze of 420." One prisoner supplied helpfully.

"Yeah! That one! That was me, sorry." She stuck out her tongue cutely. "Guilty as charged. That was the verdict too, but it was an honest mistake. Could've happened to anybody." She fidgeted with her flint and steel, setting part of the table ablaze, only for the prisoner with the water bucket to once again douse it.

"This girl runs hot. Only the soothing water can save her. Water is salvation, Keen."

"I was in that prison for eighty years and they didn't once give me a flint and steel." She pouted with folded arms. "I wouldn't have used it. I just wanted to hold one, y'know? Showed those guards what for." She nodded to herself. "Also, if anyone's feeling cold, just lemme know and I can warm you up nice." She fidgeted with her flint and steel and 'accidentally' set fire to the table one last time before water extinguished it.

"The water compels me to speak next." The next prisoner rose from his seat slowly. He had a dark green belt and backpack, brown shirt and pants, light-blue eyes and short, sea-green hair. "Drowned_One is my name. I am an envoy of the Holy Water, seeking to spread its influence to the most remote depths of Minecraftia. My 'crimes' as you'd call them were merely demonstrations of the power of water. It can move items, it can quench thirst, and it can rob those of life, as I have aptly demonstrated. There was one time; I drowned a whole village of Crafters."

"And how did you do that?" 4Blite asked, curious.

"One by one, I brought 'em out. Told them to come see the little puppies. When they came out, no puppies. Only drowning."

"Impressive." 4Blite nodded, as did many of the prisoners. The Lieutenant turned to the next prisoner. "And you?"

"Cyan_Gift. Call me Cyan or Cy if you prefer." A woman with waist-length golden-bronze hair and cruel red eyes stood up from between Drowned and Keen. She was dressed in all brown with a bright orange fist emblazoned on her shirt. She wore a dark orange backpack and belt full of green splash potions. "I'm a six-digit and I've been in that stuffy prison for nearly a century. Some of you may be familiar with my work in the Poison Killings of 401?"

4Blite knew. She was another infamous criminal. Killed over thirty Ringwood citizens before getting apprehended by a Captain. She used Potions of Poison, reducing her victims Health to half-a-Heart before going in for the kill. She was pretty dangerous.

"My hobbies include long walks on the beach, nether wart farming, and watching my victims' faces as their Health slowly drains away." She made another rapturous face that seriously worried the composed Lieutenant. "Oh, tell me when we're doing another Wither attack. I want to be there when it happens!"

"That won't be for a while, as we used all our skulls up on Ringwood. Though, we might get a greater power soon, so long as it isn't another wild goose chase." 4Blite remarked before moving on. "Anyone else?"

"Sure, might as well get this tediousness over with." The dozing one didn't bother to get out of his chair and instead spoke hunched over the table with his head resting on his arms. He had neck-length blond hair and his face (when it wasn't resting in his arms) could be mistaken for female if not for his voice. He wore a light-blue short-sleeve shirt with dark-blue pants and light-grey boots. His eyes were light-grey—like his belt—and his backpack was blacker than pitch. "Sam_Vatar. Nine-digit. I'm here out of boredom."

"How's that?" Another prisoner asked.

"Boredom. I was naturally good at everything I did. I could come up with a plan no matter what problem was laid before me and prosperity dogged me like a shadow. That grew tiring after a while, though." He sighed forlornly. "Mobs were never a threat, so I turned to killing Crafters. I didn't feel any malice towards them, nor did I relish taking their lives. Killing them was just killing time. But just like me, I eventually lost interest in that too. Unlike the rest of these guys, I turned myself in. The guards were none the wiser of my crimes until I confessed. I would've been content rotting away in that cell." He peeked an eye out from between his arms. "But then you came along and spoke about us lending you our power. And that, my friend, was intriguing enough to get me on board."

Sam_Vatar lifted his head and light-grey eyes met dark purple. "I never considered myself becoming a cultist, but I'll see where this path takes me. It's just one more way to kill the time."

"I hope you don't think you're better than us just because you turned yourself in." A new prisoner piped up. His name was Xx-Brand_Unforseen-xX. He was a Crafter with wild white hair and brass eyes which hid a wild side deep within. He wore a brass choker and armlets, a grey shirt, and a crimson red trench jacket over it. He had baggy cargo pants that were ripped in some areas and a brown leather belt with a round shield-like buckle. His backpack was brown and he wore a pair of silver and brass colored sneakers.

"If you have trouble reading my name, you can hyphenate it to Brandeen. I'm an eight-digit. Number ninety-nine-million four-hundred-and-fifty-six-thousand seven-hundred-and-six. I've been around the block with my good pal Mox." He gestured to the midnight-blue haired woman sitting beside him. "We worked for a crime lord in Ringwood before getting busted by Iron_Lung and Wynn_Whispers." He looked to 4Blite respectfully. "I saw you and him clash. It was a good fight. One where you proved your strength and smarts."

"I've worked for a lot of guys. Political big shots and disreputable crime lords alike. But you have one thing those guys didn't, and that's strength. When the chips are down, you're the type of leader I want to follow. The one who can fight for himself. The one with ambition." Brandeen shared a subtle glance with Mox, who nodded. "I speak for Mox when I say we'll stay loyal to you so long as your strength and ambition endure."

As he sat down, Mox_Faith stood up. "Not much I can say that Brandeen hasn't covered. I'm a six-digit. Five-hundred-and-seventy-six-thousand three-hundred-and-sixty-one. We're a package deal, him and I." She had midnight-blue hair, stormy grey eyes, a black undershirt with a maroon jacket, beige pants, and black hiking boots. She wore a silver pendant and her belt and backpack were a dark red. From her belt, a strange Tinker's weapon hung. An Iron Mattock.

"I was arrested trying to save this one from prison." She pointed to Brandeen. "But my crimes are more extensive to anyone that's heard of the Spider Queen of Exter." There were a few gasps of recognition from the prisoners and 4Blite leaned back.

The Spider Queen was the leader of the spy guild known as the Ten Eyes. They traded in information and were made up of hundreds of undercover intelligence brokers. They had members in every kingdom and were privy to countless closely guarded secrets.

The Spider Queen had gone quiet for a number of years, though her guild continued to flourish without her. They weren't as big as the Scouts, Berserkers, or Paragons, but they also had members in all three guilds. They were clandestine and covert, and their information network was only matched by Jillian and Team Delta of the Paragons. They were more influential in the west while the Paragons were more influential in the east.

"In case you're doubting my claim," Mox continued, "I happen to know a bit of juicy intel regarding the Executive of the Endward Cult's Western Division." 4Blite narrowed his eyes at the subtle drop. "Quite the shock about his Highness. Though I suppose it makes sense. There is no force more evil than a politician."

"Why haven't you leaked this information if you knew it?"

Mox fixed 4Blite with her grey eyes. "Price wasn't right. Though, now that I'm a cultist, I suppose I'll carry that secret to the grave. Nevertheless, my information network is at your disposal, Lieutenant. Would you like to know which cultists are speaking behind your back?"

Finally. A woman who knew how to speak the language. She was dangerous too. Maybe even more so than the other homicidal serial killers. She was calculating and her eyes roved the room, always watching and taking in her fellow prisoners. The right information could be deadly. She was also friends with Brandeen, the two acting together.

For now, it seemed she was an ally.

"Oh, gosh. What am I even doing here surrounded by all these amazing people?" Erma_Gourd stood up next. She was a simply dressed female with black pants, a grey belt, white shirt, dark gray backpack, hazel eyes, and long blonde hair in a pigtail. She didn't hold herself with much confidence (who would in a crowd like this), and she seemed like a common criminal. Unremarkable in every aspect. Perfectly mundane.

"I'm Erma_Gourd. A six-digit. Number nine-hundred-seventy-thousand three-hundred-and-thirty-three. I was part of a small-time gang—the Creepers?" Not a single criminal acknowledged the gang. "A-ah, yeah, that's what I thought. A-Anyway!" She soldiered on. "We enlisted Griefers to help us raid a small town outside of Ringwood. Things went sour and we fled until Iron_Lung apprehended us. Our gang leader fought back and was killed, so I'm glad you paid the loudmouth Captain back." Erma gave a sheepish smile to 4Blite which the Lieutenant did not return. There was an awkward cough before she continued.

"I-I guess I'm sort of like a butterfly, flitting from place to place with no real idea what I want. I don't have a concrete goal or purpose." She admitted. "I followed any group that offered camaraderie. It just… happened to be small-time criminals." She sighed. "Now I'm moving up to big-time cultists. I guess I'm still trying to find where I fit in. B-But I'll be loyal! I promise!" She hastily assured. "I owe you for freeing me, Lieutenant. I intend to repay you."

That was good enough for 4Blite. She seemed a little self-deprecating, but that only meant she'd be worried about doing a good enough job. Despite that, she did manage to kill a hundred Crafters in a week and she was a six-digit. Maybe she was awkward while speaking but was a secret badass while fighting.

There were only two prisoners left.

"My name's Maira. Maira_Kahel." A taller than average woman with light-blue eyes stood up from her seat. She had hair the same shade of orange as Ember, done up in twin tails tied by light-blue ribbons. She wore a sleeveless deep purple shirt, indigo pants, and black flats. She also wore a green scarf and fingerless black gloves for accessories. Her backpack and belt were a light orange. "I'm an assassin."

She sat back down as if that was all they needed to know about her. 4Blite got the impression that she wasn't one for idle chitchat.

Finally, the girl who had put up paintings and flower pots stood up. She was a short, fair-skinned girl with strawberry-blonde hair, silver eyes, and a white headband covering her forehead. She wore a yellow shirt with a puritan collar and puffed sleeves with additional pink sleeves, covered by a white vest with yellow accents. She also wore a pink skirt, white stockings, and yellow kitten heels. Her backpack and belt were a darker shade of yellow.

"Lemonada, at your service." She gave a sweeping bow. "You may call me Mona." Her voice was high-pitched and sweet-sounding, but 4Blite didn't let that color his evaluation of her. He could tell she was as dangerous a criminal as any person in that room. "I adore cute things and sprucing up dank abodes much like this one."

"And what crime were you convicted of? Too much flower arranging?" Brandeen snarked.

"Oh goodness no." Mona stifled a giggle. "I was the former boss of the crime family Dandelion." Brandeen's eyes widened comically. "Surely you must have heard of me. I believe you and Aster worked for my old rival."

"Aster…? Who's—?"

"Oh, forgive me. I have a habit of nicknaming people after flowers without their consent. Aster is your little friend, Mox_Faith. It's not an insult, I assure you. Asters are symbols of wisdom and devotion. A suitable nickname for a spy master like her. You, Brandeen, would be a Gladiolus; a symbol of strength and integrity."

"Uh… thanks?"

"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. My crimes." She cleared her throat. "The Dandelion family was renowned in Ringwood's underground for smuggling in illegal items. We were based out in the seediest place of the Western District (though I endeavored to titivate it as much as possible). I traded in the black market, smuggled sand and gunpowder, extorted shopkeepers, laundered illegally-obtained emeralds, and resisted arrest by killing nine out of the ten guards sent to arrest the members of my family."

"To be perfectly candid, I'm not just here to repay you for rescuing me from that ugly prison. I'm here to start up another underground market. My name and face will be plastered everywhere once word of my escape leaks. The cult has power and influence. If I stick with you, I'm protected and safe to establish a presence elsewhere in Minecraftia. Unsavory people will always want unsavory things they can't get anywhere else, and when I am able to provide, emeralds will flow like water."

"Did someone say water!?" Drowned_One piped up, suddenly interested.

"I'm a merchant at heart, though I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty." She gestured to an axe at her belt. "I know how to hide contraband and find things that people want."

4Blite was familiar with the Dandelion family. They fell apart shortly after Mona was arrested. With Ringwood in ruins, reestablishing an underground market there was a waste of time. Her loyalty wasn't purely to him, but having a merchant around could prove useful.

"You've all introduced yourselves." 4Blite said now that everyone was finished. "Your conquests and crimes are impressive, and since you've completed the task I assigned you, I would like to officially welcome you into my inner circle. Keen, Drowned, Cyan, Sam, Brandeen, Mox, Erma, Maira, Mona. The nine of you will henceforth be known as my Nine Plagues."

The name raised a few questioning eyebrows and a disgusted scoff from Mona, so 4Blite elaborated.

"It's not an insult or some cruel nickname. It has meaning. It has significance. Plagues can include drought, famine, floods... and diseases. Blights." His name stood out in sharper contrast. "Blights can also mean disfigurement. Like... this scar." He ghosted a hand over the scar on his right eye. "I was a scarred man ever since I came into being in that Void, knowing neither the how or the why."

"And yet, I felt it made me stronger for having it. I had seen battle. I wasn't with skin as fair as a babe's. I was a warrior, and my scar was a badge of honor. Thus, I named myself after the scar. For the blight. 4Blite. And now, I give you, my inner circle, a similar name. The Nine Plagues."

"You've all introcuced yourselves, so I think it's time I do the same. Properly." He added. "As a Lieutenant of the Endward Cult, I should be a champion of Next Life, ready to give up my life if it means furthering the cult's grand goal. However," he sneered, "I have far more ambitious goals. I don't wish to leave this realm and start fresh in another. I want this world." He stood firm. "I'm not just another of Ember's pawns. I'm not an Executive's pet like Jade. I'm stronger and more driven. And I will rule over this world and have all Crafters cower for mercy at my feet. Hackers included!" The criminals widened their eyes at the blatant claim. Becoming more powerful than even the Hackers? The Billionths had proved it could be done, but how did the Lieutenant plan to go about it?

"I wish to be spoken of in the same hushed whispers that Herobrine enjoys. I seek our Founder's godlike powers. Soon, I will gain whatever power he left behind at the Morel Islands. I will be one step closer to becoming the supreme ruler of Minecraftia. To me, the Endward Cult is just a stepping stone. A means to an end."

"So I ask you to lend me your power." He addressed the nine. "You, my Nine Plagues. Help me become the Southern Executive. Help me to greater power and I will share that power with you, my faithful servants. Together we will strike fear into the hearts of men. The world will fall at our feet. They will cater to our every whim and we will decide whether or not to spare them or condemn them. The world will be ours, and not a soul alive will be able to rise against us. Not the Hackers, not the Billionths, and certainly not Ember_Waves."

The prisoners all spoke with varying degrees of assent, fully on-board with their ambitious leader. They could tell it wasn't just ambition, though. He had a plan. He had the steps. He had the determination. And with them by his side, he had the manpower.

The Lieutenant just hoped there was actually something present at the Morel Islands. Something he could show to his Plagues. Otherwise, he'd lose their faith. And that goal of his would be nothing more than a fleeting dream.

AN: Hoo Boy. We got nine new viewer submitted OCs. A lot were submitted, and I narrowed it down to these nine. Does that mean your character sucks because it wasn't picked? No. It's just that I felt these OCs fit the plot better. 4Blite and his Nine Plagues - There's that title.

Alright, so, time to credit their creators.

Erma_Gourd from MetalDargon.

PearlyKeen from RoyaPearl.

Drowned_One from River, the Twice Drowned One.

Cyan_Gift from Madilyneo the Rosey Frost-Knight.

Lemonada and Maira_Kahel from Puppet3.

Sam_Vatar from YoshiXSaga.

Mox_Faith from Verox.

And Xx-Brand_Unforseen-xX from FearMeHorror.

If you feel overwhelmed by all the new characters, you're not alone. I too am overwhelmed with writing them out. For now, I won't be focusing on them too much, but know that they are a resource in 4Blite's corner. He has ambition, and he's going to see it through.

Also, Spring got some chewing out here too. Ember finds his lack of faith disturbing. He's invited to the Morel Islands, but Ember made it clear he's just there as a witness. I wonder what power will be waiting there for them?