AN: Heyo! Another Chapter.
I was conflicted on the title for this chapter, between honoring Avatar The Last Airbender with 'Lenzington Alone', and honoring The Last Of Us with 'Alone and Forsaken'. I decided on the former, but you can guess who the focus character will be this chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I'd allow paper to be crafted in a 2x2 grid.
Chapter 260
Lenzington Alone
[Lenz]
"What a piteous pickle you find yourself in."
I looked up weakly, unmoving and exhausted. Larkspur had been relieved, it seemed. Replaced with her Executive, Abyssmal. The Night-Raven. The best archer in the world. His face and figure swam in my delirious vision, but that white eye patch with the red 'X' painted on was unmistakable.
"It would be a shame to snuff out a budding talent like yours. All I can offer you is a chance. Whether you survive or not and come out stronger depends solely on you." His voice sounded like it was coming out of a long, distant tunnel. "Only one person has ever come out of Teal's Survival Games alive. To be number two, you're going to have to rely on that big brain of yours. Dig deep."
What was he even saying? I could not understand. I did not have full lucidity.
"One last piece of advice. From a senior, to a junior. You're a good archer, but you'll only be a great archer - an archer's archer - when you stop playing the bow, and start playing the foe. Anticipate your enemy, foresee their every movement, and they'll run right into your arrows every time. With your big brain, you can pull it off: Foresight."
"...Wha-What...?" I mumbled, even as the Executive turned and left. "W-Wait... d-do not send her back... p-please..."
Darkness crept around my vision as I lost focus, only to be roughly awoken an indeterminate amount of time later by my worst nightmare.
"Good news, Little Lenny~" Larkspur's face took up my vision, her tired face and dark rings under her eyes more pronounced. In spite of them, she grinned sadistically. "You and I are about to get a change in venue. Boss man's orders. And lucky for me - but not so much you - it's shaping up to be a ripsnorting good time~!"
Larkspur dragged me to my knees none too gently and towed my unresisting body down the length of the airship and into the Icarus' loading bay. I felt a flash of panic and spasmed when I saw her kick the loading bay door open with one foot and drag us close enough that the wind buffeted my hair and clothes. It was dark outside, but by the light of the stars, I could see we were hundreds of feet over the vast ocean, with a moderate sized island nearby. A fleet of airships, presumably the united forces of Zeppil, Oak Docks, and the Paragons, pursued our ship with maybe a mile between them.
Larkspur brought me before her, giggling as I spasmed at the sight of the terrifyingly deep ocean. "Lovely night for a dip, eh~?" She teased before covering my mouth with one hand so my screams wouldn't alert the fleet. Then, she tugged on her wings and, under the cover of darkness, dropped off the airship with me in tow.
She didn't immediately deploy the wings. She allowed us to drop from the airship silently, despite how hard I screamed into her hand. My eyes flew to the fleet of airships, one hand reaching out as I desperately hoped they saw us drop off. How I wished their forces would split, half diverging for me and half sticking to Abyssmal and the Icarus.
Nothing changed. The fleet continued their pursuit of the Icarus.
Once Larkspur was low enough, she expertly angled her body to swoop up so that we only skimmed the surface of the ocean, our flight path taking us towards the nearby island. There was wide-eyed panic in my eyes as I gazed upon the deep, dark ocean only a few inches below me. Larkspur had enough speed and was skilled enough that she could probably have gotten us to the island's shore without us touching the water. However, knowing what she did about my Thalassophobia, she purposefully shot down with a happy laugh so that we broke the water's surface and were fully submerged.
I felt icy terror grip my heart as I thrashed in her arms, my phobia worse than ever from Larkspur's waterboarding torture over the past couple days. I could not breathe, but Larkspur was in no hurry to bring us back up, and had zero trouble holding me captive and thwarting my every resistance with her EXP strength. Only once she was thoroughly satisfied with my suffering did we resurface, her fishnet-clad limbs propelling us to the island's shallow coast, then to the beach.
It was all I could do to gasp for air, my terror-addled mind regaining clarity as I was dragged through the sand by my collar further and further away from the deep water. With it came awareness, specifically the awareness that my best hope of rescue was continuing on after Abyssmal and the Icarus.
"C-Come back..." I whispered in despair, a hand weakly coming up and groping out for the fleet of airships flying away, unaware.
"They can't hear you, Lenny. Save your breath." Larkspur threw out casually, dragging me forward and dumping my boneless, soaking wet body into a heap in the sand. She wrung the water out of her hair and shook herself like a dog to partially dry off.
A brief silence passed as Larkspur was in no hurry to get this nightmare over with. She took her time drying off, looking over her Inventory, and having a snack. All while the fleet of airships became nothing more than specks in the night sky, their diminishing presence marked by the stars their silhouettes blocked or failed to block.
"Well," Larkspur clapped her hands in commencement, "it's a little out of order, but welcome, one and all," she added sarcastically, "to the 318th Annual Survival Games. Lamest one ever, but will be immensely satisfying if I have anything to say about it."
"As you may have noticed, the pool of participants is a lot smaller than I'm used to. I had some guys, but now I don't, so this year's Survival Games is just my arch enemy and me."
I could not muster up the strength to contest that.
"I would've enjoyed offing you on the ship, but Abyssmal gave me a better idea. Now, it'll be so much more fun to hunt you down, breaking down whatever feeble resistances you try to muster, all while you sink further and further into despair and failure. Sorta like my college experience~" She joked lightly before uttering a low growl. "It's what you deserve for ruining our HQ and separating me from my dear Marky-Mark."
Was she remembering things right? The Paragons planned the attack and did all that; why was she attributing the blame onto me alone? Was it because I was the only one in arm's reach who she could exact her payback upon?
Or was it because I tricked her, called her a dropout, and defeated her with the Simulation Room?
"It's not entirely hopeless, though. In the spirit of fairness, and since I only have you to hunt, I'm gonna give you something I've never given any Survival Games participant before: a handicap. So what'll it be, Lenny? Crossbow and arrows," she held up a crossbow and a dozen arrows in one hand, "or the dagger I lifted off of you." She finished, her other hand holding up the dagger Z7 had loaned me.
Even though the dagger was Z7's and she had entrusted it to me, I had to go with the practical option. The best one for me. I weakly pointed to the crossbow and arrows.
"The dagger?" Larkspur asked, feigning surprise. "You sure you want the dagger?"
I shook my head, pointing more incessantly to the crossbow.
"Nothing I say or do can convince you otherwise?"
I tried to speak but could not. My throat was too raw and dry. I kept pointing to the crossbow in vain.
"Alright, dagger it is." She deposited the crossbow into her backpack, then cruelly jammed the dagger into my shoulder, eliciting an agonizing whimper. She grinned down at me, an inch before my face. "So you don't lose it. Now get!" She gave my side a shove with her foot. I stumbled to my feet before collapsing in the sand. "Get running, Lenny! Your head start's a ticking~!" She singsonged, prompting me to recover to my feet and weekly run with one arm limp at my side because of the dagger still sticking out of my shoulder. I fell in the sand a couple more times as I struggled to run, to get away from her. Weary, wounded, hungry, and sleep-deprived as I was, I did not know where I had to run, but I knew that to stop running would be death.
Darkness crept at the edges of my vision as I continued to run with limbs that felt heavy as lead. The sand that gave way beneath my feet turned to dirt, and I ran past objects I could barely see in the dark, crashing into a few only to be met with soft impacts.
I ran and ran and ran, not realizing Larkspur was using the head start as an excuse to catch up on some much-needed sleep so she would be well-rested for the real hunt. I was too afraid to think, and instead devoted all my remaining energy into weakly running, my ears picking up Mob sounds as they spawned from the darkness.
When I could run no more, I fell to my knees and dry-heaved, my skin coated in sweat. I reached down with my good arm and clawed at the dirt with my fingernails, ripping up great chunks of dirt and grass and digging myself a small hole. Comparable to a shallow grave. I could hear Mobs closing in on me. Spiders and Zombies.
After I made the hole big enough, I piled up dirt above me to close it off just before sagging backwards against the narrow space and gasping for air while surrounded by darkness. After that, I finally succumbed to my exhaustion and lost consciousness, not knowing if I would ever wake up.
My dreams were filled with anxiety and looming darkness, mad titters and smothering water. One dream seemed to bleed into the next, my mind incapable of making sense of it all. It was like a fever dream. I wondered whether I was dead or in limbo.
When I finally woke up, it took me a while to make sense of where I was because of the darkness. It was also unbearably hot in the hole, my clothes stuck to sweaty skin. I did not hear Zombies above me anymore, though my gut twisted painfully as Starvation began to set in.
Of course my Hunger Meter was empty.
I tried to move and winced as I felt a sharp pain in my right shoulder. The dagger, still sticking out. I glanced to it and grabbed it with my left hand, taking a moment to bite a bundled up piece of my scarf to stifle my subsequent screams right before I wrenched the weapon loose. It bounced against the walls of my hole before landing on my foot.
That dagger was all I had.
I held it with the esteem it deserved and used it like a gardening trowel to dig out the ceiling of my hole and weakly hoist myself up. My arms gave way and I rolled onto my back, staring up at the sky. No sign of Larkspur, or I would already be dead. Though I did hear some residual Mobs in the shade of the trees, they were mainly Spiders rendered docile by the rising sun, and Zombies that feared getting burned in the sunlight. I winced as I felt another painful twist in my guts, like they were knotted cords pulled tighter.
"Need... food..."
My first instinct was to crawl for the leaves of the trees, my intent to break them for a chance at apples. That plan quickly fell apart when I brought my hands around the base of one and found not hard bark, but soft wool. My face rubbed up against the tree as I peered up at it.
Wool.
It was a fake tree made up of wool. Specifically brown wool for the log and green wool for the canopy of leaves. And it was not just one tree, but all of them that were like this.
My mouth hung agape as I was momentarily stunned by such a idea - miles and miles of forest made up of wool. However, another painful twitch in my guts soon snapped me out of my stupor, reminding me that time was of the essence. I needed food.
I dithered in place, my head swiveling as I clutched my pain-riddled abdomen. No animals to hunt. No farmland to pillage. No seeds to grow. No mushrooms to scavenge. I could not even fish for fear of the ocean, not to mention the dagger being the only thing on my person.
I shambled in place, wracking my brain for an answer.
Then my tinted gaze fell on the docile Spiders and hidden Zombies.
"Repeaters... anything but that..."
I shambled over to the nearest Spider, and, after being spurred by another painful twist of my innards, I gripped the dagger tight and plunged it into the top of the Spider's head. It lashed out, then. Docile no longer. It bit my arm, shaving away what little Health I had left, but I was able to free it and, with great difficulty, drag the Tinker's weapon down through the Mob's back, killing it.
It dropped two string and one spider eye.
I passed off the string for now and seized the spider eye. It was no bigger than a grape, though it was soft and squishy, red and oozing. Survival and revulsion warred inside me before, after another painful twist to my stomach, I bit off the objectively edible spider eye. Tears sprang to my eyes as the inside broke not unlike a large, overly-ripe grape, spilling the foul juices within.
I almost gagged as two drumsticks of my Hunger Meter were replenished, but at the cost of being poisoning. Starvation damage was replaced with poison damage, but poison could never kill a Crafter. The damage would always stop at half-a-Heart. Despite being one hit away from death, and with green particles swirling around me as I dry-heaved, it was preferable to the sure death of starvation, which would never stop until a Crafter's Hearts were fully depleted.
Of course, the time I bought myself would not last long. Already the drumsticks were fading, what with spider eyes being a poor source of food.
Another Spider would be too quick for me to kill before it got a hit in. Instead, I turned my attention to the Zombies cowering in the shade. They were slow and weakened from the burning sunlight. I recalled my dagger-throwing training with Z7 and struck a Zombie right between the eyes, killing it and dropping a piece of rotten flesh.
"...I will never judge Cobbert for eating this filth again." I swore, fighting back tears in my eyes as I tore a chunk off the rancid Zombie jerky. I got another two drumsticks added to my Hunger Meter, but I also got the dull green particles of the Hunger effect swirling around me, making what little I gained quickly deplete.
Constantly eating more was the only way to replenish my Health Meter.
The dagger was my lifeline. I took great care retrieving it any time I threw it to dispatch a Zombie or Spider. Without the dagger, I had nothing. It was my only means of defense, and even then I lacked the physical prowess to wield it professionally like Z7.
It surely would not make a difference against Larkspur.
After I had had my fill of Zombie flesh, I was in a condition where I could move normally. My replenished Health and Hunger Meter had fixed my injuries, and I no longer needed to shamble or limp about. My arm was also in better shape since Teal jammed a dagger into it.
I began to evaluate my current situation, which was, no matter how I looked at it, terrible.
I was stuck on an island; the unwilling, lone participant in Larkspur's abominable Survival Games. All I could glean was that the island was situated somewhere in the Eastern Ocean. Even if I did not have a debilitating fear of deep water, a prolonged swim was out of the question as it would invite voracious Guardians to rip me to pieces.
"That is why the trees are wool." I realized with a resigned air. Maybe at some point this island had genuine vegetation, but somewhere down the line, perhaps at about the tenth or twentieth annual Survival Games, Larkspur had decided having real trees for people to make into planks, crafting tables, and boats was too much of a risk. So she had her cultists strip the island of trees and replace them with woolen counterfeits. At a distance, they would be indistinguishable from real trees, and this was probably some remote, uninhabited island where nobody bothered to land.
It was no wonder her games only had one survivor. The participants would have nothing and no means of crafting. Their only recourse was to face Larkspur in combat and win.
That was to be my only recourse.
My face fell into my hands as I bemoaned what an impossible task that was. The only advantage I had that nobody else did was the dagger, but I was unskilled in close combat. I was an archer, and a noodle-armed nerd besides. The idea of me besting Larkspur in armed combat had about as much chance of working as fighting off a Wither with a rose.
The string I scavenged was essentially useless to me now. No way to make the sticks for a bow or crossbow. Even my fallback for some kind of redstone trap was out since I lacked the sticks to make tools to mine the stuff.
It was hopeless to expect a rescue. Nobody knew where I was, or would have reason to suspect I was even alive. Cobbert or the Beginners would search to the ends of Minecraftia, but he was in the Nether and they were on the other half of the world.
And Z7...?
I slowly sat up, my gaze staring off into the middle distance as I considered Z7. Our relationship was still young, literally a few days old. She had come to care for me - her behavior at the lighthouse meeting was proof of that - but was that enough to make her search tooth and nail for me? I did not know.
Were we at the level of affection that Cobbert had for Jade? Probably not. What had I really done to earn her love other than be an ear to listen to her? Not much.
And yet... some part of me... deep down... hoped she was still looking. That I meant enough for her to continue searching.
It was that thought alone that lit a fire in me to survive no matter what. What did it matter if I had little to work with? I, who had MacGyvered a battery out of a comparator, a bed, and a slice of cake.
"There has to be something on this island I can use." I spoke to myself to marshal my wits. "I just need to stay alive. N.D Y. Not Dead Yet."
Despite really not wanting to, practicality dictated that I visit the island's coastline and walk about it to determine how big it was, as well as check the surroundings. I would be taking a big risk with Larkspur on the prowl, but I needed to ascertain where the island was located and how far it was from either Oak Docks or the mainland. I opted to use the wool trees for cover and glean whatever I could from afar, my exceptional vision being advantageous for such a thing.
All I had on me was the barely edible 'foodstuffs' I was reduced to eating, some string dropped from the Spiders, and Z7's dagger. The dagger was the most important tool: a weapon. Past Survival Games participants would not have had a weapon with the trees being what they were. It was a folly for Larkspur to hand me one.
Or maybe she just wanted to prolong my suffering by making her self-proclaimed arch enemy expend energy getting his hands dirty only to have to then make his innards dirty by having to consume poisonous, rancid garbage. After all, she had not given me the crossbow.
Upon reaching the edge of the fake forest, I peered out across a small stretch of beach. I remembered a long stretch of beach where Larkspur and I first landed, so this was a different side of the island. The sun was overhead so I could not quite tell which direction out I was facing, but I did see another island in the distance, separated by a mile-long stretch of ocean.
With trees as woolen as the island I was sat on.
I dragged a hand down my face before skulking through the 'trees' in a different direction, towards a different shore.
After an afternoon spent circling the island and subsisting on foodstuffs that made me cry, I had finally gleaned enough to have a basic understanding of the terrain.
The island I was on was on was the smallest, about the size of Ringwood's capital city, with two neighboring islands to the south and east that were significantly larger. From my memory of maps, I guessed I was on the trio of islands to the north of Nitebane.
Of course, the other two islands were populated by woolen trees, same as mine. Credit where credit is due, it must have taken the cultists a lot of work and sheep to strip the place of vegetation and build fake trees out of wool. All for Larkspur's perverse hunting game.
"Just how many people died on this rock?" I mumbled to myself as I sat in the shadows along the shortest coast. The eastern side. No beach, just a short, dirt cliff into deep water.
I was not looking at the water, though. Anytime I tried, I seized up as a more terrible sensation gripped me.
Memories - intrusive ones - would flash across my vision, making me flinch and spasm, my breathing and pulse quickening. They were memories of mad titters, water flooding down my nose and mouth, choking me, Larkspur's cruel face peering down upon me.
Larkspur got her wish to become my new phobia, it seemed.
I tore my eyes away from the water and faced west, my arms hugging myself tighter.
I could not swim. Not like this. All the work I put in with Z7 to overcome my phobia had been undone by the days of Larkspur's waterboarding torture. I would sink like a stone if I tried to reach one of the other islands. Another weakness of mine that Larkspur knew. Other participants may have risked the Guardians and swam to the other islands, but not me. I was stuck.
My horrible foodstuffs were nearly gone too. I would need to hint more at night.
Just as I got up to explore the interior of the island, I heard a high-pitched whistle on the wind. A fireworks whistle.
I dropped to the ground like a sniper was near, commando crawling under some low-hanging 'trees', my eyes wide and alert under my tinted glasses. My ears were perked.
I caught the sound again. Closer this time. The fireworks whistles that trailed off without an explosion. I knew they belonged to Larkspur as she flew near with her Wonder Wings, searching for me. It was just another advantage of hers, being able to command the skies. No other Survival Games participants would have had to deal with that.
Knowing how close she was terrified me. Did she know I was hunkered down here? Was she just prolonging her sick fun? Would she land soon? Should I run or stay? Should I plan an ambush? Should I just face her like a man?
I held my shaking hands still as I tried desperately to calm down. Memories of her torture were still flashing across my vision, even while I could not even make out her figure. Just those whistles were enough to make me seize up in terror. I bit into my fist, just to have some other feeling to focus on besides crippling terror.
Finally, the whistles went away. She was searching elsewhere. I no longer felt like a vulture was circling me.
I unfastened my teeth from my fist, and decided to dig a hole under my low-hanging 'tree' to make camp for the night. Not like I had much to unpack.
Even in the absence of those high-pitched whistles, my hands refused to stop shaking.
Come morning the next day, I killed more Mobs with my dagger, focusing more on Zombies for rotten flesh. I did, however, take on two Skeletons. I was riddled with arrows for my troubles, but I gained two arrows and two bones.
"Now if only I had a bow of some kind." I spoke dejectedly as I looked upon the arrows. I supposed it was too much hoping a bow would drop.
Hunting Skeletons for bows and arrows was the only way I could think of having a chance. Not at killing Larkspur - she was too fast - but of hunting bigger, more dangerous Mobs. Creepers. Witches. With the gunpowder and sticks they dropped I could... I could... I could...
I gnashed my teeth and hurled my pitiful arrows onto the ground before breaking down completely and falling to my knees. I COULD DO NOTHING! Not without a Crafting Table, and I had no planks to make one! I could not make firework rockets, I could not make a crossbow, I could not make an ender chest to maybe get my backup loot. Everything a Crafter was capable of was tied to that Crafting Table. Without it, I could only manage simple two-by-two grid recipes.
All I could do was scrounge about for garbage and hide away. This must have been the same hopelessness the other participants felt. The only difference was I had a dagger, but the other participants likely hunted Mobs with less just to get a bite of garbage food, so what could I really do?
"I am all alone..." I whispered to myself as it finally sunk in. "Nobody is coming for me. My life or death rests solely on my shoulders."
I screwed my eyes shut, wishing this was just some terrible nightmare I could wake up from.
Even with the numerous thoughts and ideas flying through my head, they were all for naught without a Crafting Table.
I wandered aimlessly around the center of the island, not really knowing what I was hoping to find.
I certainly was not expecting a pen full of sheep.
I was drawn by the baaing and bleating while trying to choke down a mouthful of rotten flesh. My eyes widened and I followed the sound, stumbling upon a clearing in the wool trees with a pen made of cobblestone walls. Inside were dozens upon dozens of sheep, happily grazing.
These sheep were probably the ones the cultists sheared to build the forest. They bred more, dyed them green and brown, and harvested their wool over and over again.
I saw a source of food. My mouth watered. Even raw, mutton was a million times more palatable than rotten flesh or spider eyes. I drew my dagger and took a step onto the clearing...
...Only to stop short and pull back, my spirits plummeting.
No way would Larkspur leave a feast like this unguarded. Even if I could not see her, that did not mean she was not lying in wait. A lot of predators hung around spots where their prey would go to for food.
This was probably a trap Larkspur set up long ago to lure in participants. They would run in for the mutton - the mouthwatering promise of a good meal - and then she would pop out, shout something vexatious, and kill them in droves. What was that old saying? You attracted more flies with honey than vinegar.
If I squinted, I could see a hint of blue hiding in the trees opposite the clearing.
So, with great misery, I ignored the promise of edible meat and crept away, my stomach rebelling against the slop I was forced to endure.
It was during the afternoon when inspiration struck in the shape of me locating an opening in the ground that led deeper in. It was a cave, and a natural one at that, but it was lit up with torches, which I was quick to strip away for my own use. I could hear Mobs further down, under layers of stone and dirt, but that was not what filled me with hope. There was the possibility of a mineshaft underground.
Mineshafts were naturally generated structures made of planks.
Nine planks was all I needed to make the Crafting Table, then the boat. With that, I would take my chances sailing away from this accursed island under the cover of night. By the time Larkspur realized, I would be long gone.
It sounded like there were a lot of Mobs down there, but I had to chance it. It there was a mineshaft down there, and the planks were intact, it would mean my ticket out of there.
So, armed with my feeble dagger and what little torches and 'food' I could scavenge, I descended into the cave.
There were various, winding paths going down. I dug up dirt or gravel where I could to have blocks to work with, but I also had to double back when running into steep drops or more Mobs than I could handle. I did bravely take down an Enderman by goading it with a staring contest while hiding under a rocky overhang. The tall Mob strained to beat me with its long limbs, but was unable to land a hit as I carefully whittled its Health away with my little dagger, eventually killing it and being rewarded for my efforts with a solitary ender pearl.
For the most part, I followed the path of torches down. I did not even consider why or how these torches got here. A mistake on my part.
Once I reached a certain level, the cave opened up into square tunnels inlaid with rails. It was the telltale sign of a mineshaft! For one shining minute, I felt a swell of hope, thinking I was moments away from finding some planks, either on some generated support beams or platforms.
Then I discovered that all the planks had been stripped away down here too. That was why there were torches leading down. Larkspur and the cultists missed nothing - not even the generated structures. They pulled it all up. That or burned it. Only some useless fenceposts and rails remained.
Oh, and there was one other thing. Along a cave wall, written in big letters and out of green and brown wool, I came across words. It was a message, presumably left by an old participant, dictating the deepest feelings of despair they felt when they too came down here only to find mineshaft stripped of planks.
The message in wool read, 'NO WAY OUT'.
I gazed listlessly at the torchlit message, my will slowly draining out of me. I lingered for a few moments, feeling like I was lost all over again. I did not know where to go next.
"...Not Dead Yet." I mumbled to myself, more out of loss for anything else to say than clinging to some nonexistent hope of rescue.
I felt a rise of anger as I flung myself at the hopeless message and tore it down, savagely carving it off with my dagger and collecting the brown and green wool as building materials.
The message may have been gone, but the feelings of despair it instilled still lingered.
It was night when I returned to the surface. My third night on the island, technically. Instead of prioritizing my camp - a word which here means 'hole in the ground' - I instead decided to use the night to harvest food - a word which here means 'rancid garbage only Cobbert would willingly eat' - as well as harvest some Mob drops.
For what purpose, I did not know. I was clutching at straws trying to cobble something together.
It would also be another mistake of mine.
In the darkness, I hid from the larger groups of Mobs, smartly intending to pick off the isolated ones. Zombies were generally the targets I plunged my dagger into, but I chanced upon a rare Witch that I could not pass up. I told myself it was for a useful potion, but, in truth, I just wanted it to drop a smidgen of redstone. Just as some small means of comfort. Something familiar and simple I could craft in this unfamiliar, unforgiving nightmare I was stuck in. It was impractical, but I needed some kind of comfort.
Witches were incredibly reckless of me to tackle without a bow. The Splash Potions they flung at enemies could be fatal at close range, but I took the risk anyway, uncaring of the consequences. I was not thinking with a clear head, the hopelessness of my situation well and truly sinking in.
I ran at the Witch, watching its movements carefully. When it held up a bottle, preparing to throw it, I abruptly stopped and stepped to the side, behind some fake trees. I heard the glass bottle break against the wool, but I did not receive any damage or effects. Since it no longer had a potion primed, I darted back out and closed the distance as quickly as I could. It got another bottle out, but it was too late for me to stop. I barreled through the thrown bottle, taking six Hearts of damage and sinking my dagger into the Witch's left breast for my trouble. My body kept going, pushing the Witch back and pinning it to a fake tree. The Witch shrieked in pain as I wrenched the dagger back and forth across its body, cutting a sideways V into it.
The Witch drank a Potion of Healing to fix itself, so I drew back the dagger and jammed it into the monster's eye, partially blinding it and causing it even more pain.
"Die. Die! DIE ALREADY!" I shouted in a furious haze. I was taking out all my frustrations on this lowly Mob, just as Larkspur was blaming me for all the problems the Eastern Division underwent.
But for a pragmatic nerd, shouting when I knew Larkspur was hunting for me was a pretty Soul move.
I dragged the dagger across the Witch's face, heedless of the Splash Potion of Slowness it threw at me. I brought my other hand to the Mob's throat and wrenched it forward, the two of us tumbling to the ground with me on top. I wrenched the dagger out, reared back my arm overhead, and stabbed down, over and over into the Mob's face. Over and over the dagger plunged, slowly and inexorably, my mouth spitting and hissing as if I was possessed by a demon.
Finally, the Witch faded into oblivion, its EXP flowing into my arm. I straddled over the kill, panting for breath while the Slowness subsided. And my reward?
A lone stick.
I threw my head back and let out a pitiful groan into the night. I could not catch a break. Truly.
The adjacent hissing of a stealthy Creeper only reinforced my misfortune.
The subsequent blast as I half-scrambled away blew me into a fake tree only to slide down into the crater the Mob's explosion created. I landed hard on my back, groaning, surrounded by bits of dirt and cobblestone. The explosion seemed to echo for miles in the darkness.
Then I heard the distant, high-pitched whistle of a firework rocket, and my blood turned to ice.
Ignoring the pain in my shoulder and body, I sat up and dragged myself out of the crater, snagging the scattered dirt and cobblestone blocks where I could. The whistling grew closer, and I made for the trees, running like my life depended on it.
I passed by Mobs, but I paid them no mind. I ignored the Skeletons that fired upon me, the Zombies who swiped at me, and the Spiders who lunged at me. I ignored them all, because a greater predator was on my scent.
"Leeeeeennnny~" The sing-song voice rang out behind me. "Thaaaaaat yooooouuuu~?"
My heart was beating in my throat. Flashes of Larkspur's torture assaulted my mind, making me bump into wool trees and stumble. I had to hide. I had to hide. I had to hide.
I crashed through the treeline and found myself along the island's coast. My eyes scanned for a hiding spot and found a patch of sugar cane reeds growing along the water. I leapt for them, hunkering down amongst them and making myself as small as possible.
"Where are you, Lenny~? Come out, come out~ Olly olly oxen free~!"
I held my breath until she left. She had just narrowly missed me, but how many more times would she narrowly miss me before I was dead to rights in her sights?
I need to get off this island. I thought to myself.
[Nitebane: Capital Outskirts]
"LENZ!" Z7 suddenly screamed in common, her daggers out and the expression past her curtain of hair thunderous. "WHERE! IS! LENZ!"
Tensions were high. The assassin's voice rang out across the clearing, heard by Hackers and Paragons alike. It seemed like a fight was about to break out. However, feeling like the question was more aimed at him than anyone, and seeing as how he had an answer, Abyssmal deigned to respond.
"Lenzington's fate is between him and Teal. That was the only chance I could afford him." Abyssmal declared to the assembled Paragons. "His survivability pitted against Teal's lethal vindictiveness. It's up to him whether he survives or not, and come out stronger for it. Ach, but you can't understand a word I'm saying, can you? You're just a Jibberwoman; a misunderstood freak seeking solace, knowing she doesn't belong anywhere with anyone. If Teal's to be believed, you and Lenzington are an item? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet situation between your two factions?" Abyssmal sneered. "It's a joke someone like you can find love while I'm forced to wallow. I envy and pity you in equal measure. But look on the bright side - I swear you'll see him again. Either as a stronger man, or as a Head on Teal's belt!"
Though Z7 struggled to understand the words coming out of Abyssmal, she could read his intent well enough to know he was being cruelly scornful to her. And, in the absence of any direct information on Lenz's whereabouts, she had one thing to say.
"R'OO UFXPRMT PROO BLF!"
The assassin pulled out her daggers and lunged for Abyssmal with startling speed thanks to the Haste and Speed buffs of the Vivlio Zythopoiias. Jillian didn't even entertain the idea of caution, instead waving one arm and commanding the buffed Paragons to attack.
The Hackers were caught off guard by how readily the Paragons charged them. Normally, Crafters were too cowed to mount a challenge, but the Paragons had totems and buffs acting as their safety net, and were driven into a fury by the double-cross of the hostage exchange.
In layman's terms, it was on like Donkey Kong.
"That's it, come to me." Abyssmal goaded, stepping back and aiming a tipped arrow at Z7's heart. "I've seen the way you move. You're already in my Foresight."
He fired a tipped arrow of Slowness only for it to be intercepted by Alfonso, the two arrows canceling each other out while Z7 continued unimpeded, her momentum mounting.
Abyssmal blinked. "...Craaaaaap-"
He foresaw Z7's movements. It was like they were all heavily telegraphed under his Foresight technique. Since he'd seen enough of her movements, he could accurately predict what she would do and evade accordingly.
The problem was that she had Speed, Haste, and Strength buffing those same movements, which decreased the amount of time it took her to make them. As such, Abyssmal was on the backfoot, narrowly dodging most of Z7's barrage slashes and slices before a thrown dagger nicked his thigh, throwing his footwork off enough for the assassin to stab into his shoulder and slice out, severing his muscles.
Then Z7 dropkicked him in the collarbone, eliciting a crack that left him gasping on his back.
"Ugh, t-tag in!"
Youssef shot forward and caught Z7 by the neck with his Flight Hack. Dark smoke gushed out of his eyes as he squeezed with his Hacker Strength to snap her neck, but Z7 swung her legs up to wrap around his dark-skinned arm and neck and leveraged the position to unbalance him. Then she slashed across his chest, trying to get him to let go.
He didn't.
"Insect!" He growled, bringing his other hand around to squeeze harder and choke her to death. Z7 grit her teeth and endured, the Absorption, Resistance, Regeneration, and Health Boost effects keeping her alive as she futilely tried to stab through Youssef's Regen.
"ATTAAAAACK!
Youssef gave a start as Captain Attila let out a battle cry and he was tackled out of the air by eleven Paragons with the Leaping effect. They swarmed over him like army ants, slashing and stabbing any vulnerable spots they could find. Youssef flew around erratically, shouting in rage as he tried to shake them off.
"Where do you think you're going?" Jillian asked coldly as she struck the recovering Abyssmal with a potion beam of Blindness, then a new one from one of the recent Bounty Days, Darkness. They robbed him of his sight, making him stumble around, lost. "Regret breaking a deal with me yet, scum? AND DON'T CALL ME SWEET CHEEKS!" The queen hit the Executive with the Wither effect next, siphoning his Health and threatening to kill him.
"Are you Hackers gonna do anything!" Abyssmal shouted.
A Reach slash made Jillian break off her attack enough for Quentin to grab the Executive by the leg and haul him away like a sack of potatoes. Meanwhile, Hannah let loose a flurry of MultiAura missiles that expertly swirled around the mass of Paragons beating up Youssef and knocked them all off of him. The dark-skinned Hacker thanked his sister and flew back to rejoin the rest as more long-ranged Hacker attacks were launched as covering fire.
"Ugh, nobody has milk!?" Abyssmal complained as he rolled onto his back and Arc Shot a tipped arrow of Regeneration onto himself to stave off the Wither effect. "Serves me right. No good deed goes unpunished. Oi! Nobody die!" Abyssmal shouted blindly to the Hackers "If any of you die, 303 will kill everyone, and I'll get blamed for it. In fact, screw it, let's just bug out!"
"Pun intended?" Quentin inquired.
Abyssmal looked offended. "Nooo. We got what we came for. They have one less shield. Let's just take our victory and go."
"Just gimme five minutes to kill that queen." Hannah replied, her tongue poking out of her mouth as her barrage of MultiAura missiles pelted the area Jillian was standing only to fail to break through her buffs. "Uff. Tough nut to crack..."
"Leave it, Hannah. The pirate is right."
"Pira-?"
"That potion book is what caught you all in the first place. We can't risk giving them more shields to capture." Quentin said. "Today is our victory. We shouldn't spoil it."
"What about my payback!? And Llewellyn's still locked up!"
"You'll have your payback, and we'll rescue Llewellyn in time. Right now, we regroup. We fall back." Quentin spared Abyssmal a glance. "And get this flea his milk."
"If it's not too much trouble." The Executive remarked dryly before again getting hoisted by his leg and flown away. The other Hackers with Flight similarly picked up their siblings and flew off, their retreat covered by MultiAura, Triggerbot, and Reach attacks.
"So long, losers!" One Hacker gave a parting taunt.
"Damn it! DAMN IT!" Neiro raged.
"XLNV YZXP!" Z7 screamed her throat raw at the fleeing Hackers and Executive. "DSVIV RH OVMA!? GVOO NV DSZG BLF'EV WLMV DRGS SRN, XLDZIW! XLNV YZZZZZZXP!" Her face was tear-stained behind her curtain of hair as she hurled daggers that had no hope of reaching them. "XLNV YZZZZZZXP!"
"Oh, Carys is gonna throw a hissy fit over this one..." Daisy lamented with genuine alarm. "She was against this to begin with. Now we're down a hostage, and we have nothing to show for it."
"Like hell we do. TRENAY!" Jillian shouted, her voice urgent. "Get Captain Fo down here, on the double!" Trenay gave a start at the suddenness and volume of the order, but quickly complied, sending the map message to the Paragons on Captain Fo's airship. "ATTILA!" Jillian shouted next.
"Here!" The Captain ran over while Jillian took out her map of Minecraftia.
"Teal's Survival Games." Jillian began in a no-nonsense tone. "You said they take place on an island, right?"
"Y-Yeah, that's what the cultists implied, but I never knew which island, just that it was somewhere in the Eastern Ocean. I was never part of her Survival Games detail before I left."
"That doesn't matter." Jillian dismissed as she held out the map. "Can you or Captain Fo trace the exact flight path you took pursuing Abyssmal and the Icarus from Oak Docks to here?"
Realization dawned on Attila as she understood what Jillian was asking. "You think Teal took Lenz as a piece in her Survival Games?"
"Yes! Now show me your flight path!" She insisted. "Time is of the essence!"
"Okay, okay! Just give me a second." Attila looked carefully, her index finger lingering before she made her best guess. "Around here, I think? Fo would know better. Have her verify."
Jillian nodded, her own finger tracing the path. Z7, sensing Jillian was formulating some hope she could cling to, recovered from her tearful rant. She wiped her tears and watched Jillian closely as she poured over the map. "Somewhere between here and Oak Docks, Teal got off, and Lenz along with her." She shared her theory. "And you heard what that Executive said. 'Lenzington's fate is between him and Teal. His survivability pitted against Teal's lethal vindictiveness.' He's fighting for his life on Teal's Survival Island. THERE!" Along the path Attila traced, Jillian jabbed a point on the map with her finger. A trio of islands north of Nitebane's cliffs. "That has to be where she got dropped off."
"We passed that point two days ago, though." Wing recalled, jogging over and joining the two's conversation. "And it'll take two days by airship to get back there. That's four days total. You think the nerd would survive that long, stuck on an island, hunted by Teal?"
"We have to check. No stone can be left unturned." Jillian rolled her map back up just as the airship touched down. "Everyone!" She called out to the gathered Paragons and Birds of Prey. "Take the fleet and have Captain Fo trace your flight path back! Don't overlook even a single island! I can't go with you; I can't leave the capital unprotected. I'll coordinate from Lunar Castle via map message. LET'S MOVE IT, PEOPLE! GO, GO, GO!"
Under her insistence, and with Z7 halfway on the ship already, the assembled Paragons and Birds of Prey - with buffs and totems replenished - boarded the airship piloted by Captain Fo and took off north at their top speed. The fleet followed.
[Lenz]
I hugged the ground, under the shade of a fake tree, as the high-pitched whistle heralding the flying menace Larkspur passed overhead. She could not know I was there; I was resting, hidden, and unmoving. I had to rest or otherwise attract Phantoms which would give away my position. Larkspur was just doing her daytime rounds, scanning the island for any signs of my presence. She never checked the other islands, so sure I would not cross the water. She was right, of course. There was no reason to dare cross to a bigger island that would be just as stripped of resources as my own. It would be a mile-long swim, with zero cover, with voracious Guardians floating about. And I had a phobia to deal with.
Intrusive thoughts continued to flash across my mind, even as the blue blur that was Larkspur flew away. The torture she had inflicted upon me had left deep scars. It had overwrote the time I was drowned by those bullies when I was younger, being so much worse. I would forget to breathe, feeling a crushing weight in my chest as I was reminded of the sensation of burning lungs and fighting for air. The powerlessness of being unable to stop the flow of water pouring down my nostrils and throat.
I hated those sensations. I hated how she put this fear in me, how she had a power over me that I could not break free from.
But, more pressingly, I hated those wings. They gave her a bird's eye view and enabled her to cross a great distance in seconds. Escaping from her once she spotted me was impossible.
If I had those Wonder Wings, I could fly away from here and not look back, nor look down at the terrifying water. I would not need to.
Curse the Bounty Day that spawned those wings! I thought angrily, one fist beating the ground. Why could there not be a Bounty Day to help me!?
I breathed out a hopeless sigh.
...
Then I looked up, the gears in my head turning.
...Every Bounty Day has occurred this year. I thought slowly. Reasonably. This is the first Survival Game that Larkspur has had that could be influenced by Bounty Days. All the previous ones had no new things.
I straightened up to my knees, my head brushing against the woolen underside of the fake tree I used for cover.
She did not have Dolphins, or Sea Turtles, or Drowned, or Tridents. The ocean went through a massive overhaul as a result of one of the Bounty Days.
And, as I recalled, Oak Docks' tourism received a big bump following the Bounty Day generated structures of coral reefs... and sunken ships.
"Ships made of planks and logs..." I realized breathlessly before scrambling out from under my cover and skulking towards the ocean.
This time, when I circled the island, I forced myself to stare deeply into the water, despite the intrusive memories of Larkspur's torture, or the flare-ups of my Thalassophobia. I was scanning it. Scanning it for what could possibly be my last desperate bid for wooden planks.
It seemed sensible enough. The cultists had spent years stripping the island of trees and the underground of mineshafts, but the Bounty Day stuff was only recent, being just a few months old, and it would be deep in Guardian infested waters. What cultist would risk it just to satisfy Larkspur's wasteful indulgence, and when would they find the time? This was the first Survival Games where outside Bounty Day additions could affect the result.
I was reminded of Abyssmal's odd parting advice.
'Only one person has ever come out of Teal's Survival Games alive. To be number two, you're going to have to rely on that big brain of yours. Dig deep.'
Could this possibly be what he meant? But why would an Executive give me hints? We were enemies.
I did not dwell long on it, as I had work to do. I scanned the deep ocean with a critical eye, leaning over and fighting through my fears to gaze into the unfathomable depths. I avoided the shallows at first, worried I would be spotted by Larkspur. Only when it was dark out did I feel safe enough to slog through the shallows along long stretches of beach, straining my eyes to the breaking point.
I also killed a Squid that had snuck up on me in the water in a panic, absorbing its EXP and getting three ink sacs for my trouble.
Finally, I hit upon something promising. There, nestled in a forest of kelp. It was not a sunken ship as I was hoping, but it was a stone brick ruin. The foundations of one, consisting of gravel, stone bricks, and, most importantly, planks of wood. I could just make them out thanks to the undersea magma blocks amongst the ruins, lighting it up.
It was maybe two-hundred meters out, and thirty meters down. I would be in over my head getting down there.
And yet those planks were calling to me. I just needed to scavenge nine. Nine little old planks and I could put this nightmare behind me.
I bit my lip as I paced the shallows, mulling over how best to get down there.
I went over everything in my Inventory, leaving nothing out. The iron dagger. A bunch of brown and green wool, taken from the fake forest as building material. Some gravel and dirt dug up for the same reason. Some cobblestone from when the Creeper blew up. A stick. An ender pearl. A bunch of rotten flesh and Spider eyes. Four string, two bones, two arrows. Twelve sugar cane, brought along to be planted as camouflage. The three ink sacs. Five torches.
With my mishmash of gear all laid out, I formulated a sensible plan for getting down to the underwater ruin.
I had to swim it. Building a bridge of blocks would leave a trail right to me, or attract Larkspur's attention prematurely. There was nothing else for it.
When I was finished mentally preparing, I stepped off of the shallows into deeper water, my head tilted up and looking at the night sky. I did not even glimpse at the water. This was a technique Z7 and I used to help me get used to deep water.
I kept my head tilted back and started to swim out, distracting my mind with various lessons I learned in my time at the Redstone College.
"...A redstone... s-signal... can be t-transmitted... fifteen blocks... b-before needing a repeater to b-boost the signal..."
Repeaters was the water cold. I kept swimming out, keeping the tiny spit of land I had been trapped on behind me.
After a few minutes of wading out into the water, I knew I had to look down. I needed to verify where the ruin was positioned. So, I mustered my courage and snuck a peek.
My breathing grew erratic as the fathoms seemed to swallow me whole. Mad titters rang out in my head, and dark memories swirled to the surface.
"Get it out of your head, Lenzington." I told myself, focusing my intellect. "True strength is facing your fears. Come on. Breathe."
Another intrusive memory came to mind. It was of Larkspur, but it was the bit of insight she gave on the nature of fear, and how to use it.
'Whenever you feel fear - that gripping sense of impending doom - your body releases that sweet chemical, adrenaline~! Not only that, but your body also releases dopamine, endorphins, oxytocin, serotonin...'
I was swimming faster, feeling less tired. My eyes were wide and afraid under my tinted goggles as I gazed at the ocean before me, but I kept swimming. I kept swimming for the spot above the ruin.
'Fear gives you a natural high, and a sense of empowerment. Fear is energy. The adrenaline makes me feel less pain and put out more power, and the serotonin makes my brain work more efficiently. It makes me more focused.'
My eyesight sharpened, becoming stronger under the effects of my fear. I could see the blocks of the ruin in greater detail. There was a chest down there that I had not caught before. I felt super focused as I kept paddling forward.
'So, whenever you're sweating over being scared, instead think of how your body is getting ready for what comes next. Fear is your body's way of making yourself stronger.'
"Fear is my body's way of making me stronger." I repeated, sucking in a breath as I reached the point above the ruin.
And was dragged under.
The magma block of the ruin created a downward current in the form of a bubble column, sucking me under. I gasped for air, and was momentarily surprised that I could despite being under water. The bubble column created by the magma block brought a steady supply of air to my lungs.
I was still freaking out, the darkness of the ocean surrounding me - enveloping me - as I descended. Under my goggles, my eyes darted in every direction, threatening to boggle right out of my head. A trio of Guardians caught me in their gaze and circled closer. I waved my arms frantically as one of their beams began to charge, tracking me, changing colors until finally unleashing energy that struck me in the gut, taking out four-and-a-half Hearts and sending me spinning outside of the my bubble column.
I could no longer breathe and had to hold my breath as I was sent spinning end over end. I lost track of my surroundings. I threatened to seize up as more intrusive memories of Larkspur came to mind unbidden. When my spinning slowed, I had both hands over my mouth, even as my limited supply of oxygen dwindled.
My head jerked left and right, my eyes refocusing with a clarity greater than ever. I could see the undersea surroundings in incredible detail. Every wrinkle of kelp, every grain of sand, every gill of fish.
Every panel of wooden planks!
I let out a muffled noise through my sealed mouth, hyping myself up as a means of encouragement before I swam down towards the bubble column. I kicked my legs hard, willing off layers of clothes that were otherwise weighing down my movements so I could swim better.
The trio of Guardians followed.
I got back into the bubble column and breathed deeply, replenishing my air while I was sucked down. Right atop the magma block in the heart of the ruins. Of course, the magma singed my arms as I made contact before I pushed off away from the column. I took out my wool blocks and started building four walls to encompass the ruins.
The Guardians' lasers tracked me, threatening to fire until I ducked behind my wool wall, vanishing from their sight. With the walls done, I started the ceiling, only for a Guardian to slip through right before I could finish. The sealed ceiling plunged the woolen chamber into a darkness dimly illuminated by the lone magma block. I narrowly swam to the left, dodging its tackle, and the spined Mob stuck fast to the interior wall of my woolen chamber. I quickly placed gravel and dirt all around, breaking it in sections as I went, to replace the water source blocks with air.
In the time it took to remove half of the water in my sealed woolen chamber, the Guardian removed itself from the wall and started flopping around like a fish out of water. It was charging its laser for another attack, its sights set on me. I lunged at it with my dagger right when it bounced, pinning it to the floor of the ruins. Its tail thrashed and its orange spines extended. I winced as its spines raked across my unprotected torso as I repeatedly and furiously jammed my dagger into its center. I took damage with every stab, one-and-a-half Hearts, three Hearts, four-and-a-half Hearts. A felt a vein pop out of my neck as I harnessed reserves of strength I never knew I had. My arm kept up that same pumping motion, sinking the dagger past the Guardian's scales over and over until it burst apart in my arms, leaving behind some light blue crystals I never bothered to learn the name of - [PRISMARINE CRYSTALS] - and a couple orbs of EXP.
I was getting a lot of EXP lately, having to fight close quarters for the first time ever. I went from Level 25 to Level 28 in just a few days.
With the Mob dealt with and my Health Meter close to empty, I flopped onto my side tiredly, my lungs burning as I fought for breath. Half my face was submerged in water, as pockets of water source blocks were still present in the woolen chamber I had made. I let it go with a careless shrug, my more immediate concern being taking a minute to gather my thoughts and catch my breath.
It was a minute that was absolutely necessary.
Once it was over, I sat up, nibbled on some rotten flesh, held down my vomit, and got back to it.
I placed and dug up the dirt and gravel so that not a dribble of water remained. I could see drops of it dripping down from the single layer of wool making up the ceiling, but it did not breach my chamber. It was a little odd, the idea of wool forming a strong barrier against water. It did not dampen like wool was supposed to, but you would not see me complaining.
I set a torch down as a better light source than the magma block. The brightness was almost unbearable until my eyes adjusted. I swapped my goggles for my glasses and scrutinized my surroundings more closely. I finally felt my frantically beating heart calm down, the adrenaline fading along with my fear now that the ocean was out of sight. I tried not to think how I was stuck at the bottom of the ocean.
Instead, I reveled in the spoils of my accomplishment. The undersea ruins I had erected the woolen walls around was more of a foundation of a structure. Stone bricks, including their mossy and cracked varieties, formed the base foundations of walls, and only the base. There was a lot of gravel too, looking like flattened rubble as it mixed with the sand of the ocean floor. But there was a chest! And spruce planks! The planks were mixed with the foundations - the remnants of a floor, maybe? - but it was a sight for sore eyes. I finally had stuff to work with!
Feeling gleeful, I saved the best for last and instead pillaged the chest. The treasure inside... was not great. A leather tunic, a few lumps of coal, and a handful of gold nuggets. I willed my clothes back on since I was no longer swimming, then took everything out of the chest, including the chest, and added it all to my inventory.
After that, I wielded my dagger like a saw and went to work on the planks.
"One... two..." I muttered to myself, kneeling on the ground and slowly sawing at them under the light of my torch. They were spruce planks, but that did not detract from their capacity to be crafted into more useful things. Spruce boats were a thing, and Crafting Tables could be made from any wood.
"Three... Four... Five..."
I pulled up more of the floor, taking care not to lose a single piece, and sealing off bits that let water in to my safe haven.
"Six... Seven..."
I smiled as I wiped the sweat off my forehead, glorifying in the rewards of my hard work.
"Eight..."
I blinked, my smile frozen as I pulled up the final plank. Eight spruce planks.
I needed nine.
"No..." I whispered to myself as I scrambled against the floor on my hands and knees, searchingly. "Mm-mm. Mm-mm."
I broke down a part of the wool wall, heedless of the water that surged in, and pulled myself out to look around for other signs of planks. Just one more plank was all I needed to make both the Crafting Table and the boat.
I found nothing, and returned to my safe haven in utter despair. I did not even seal up the hole in the wool wall. All I did was lay my back against the stone brick foundations, my gaze unknowing and locked on nothing.
"No. No, no, no, no. Please, do not do this." I gripped my head as my face twisted. "Please, do not... do not keep t-taking my hope-!"
I snapped.
"SON OF A... NGGGGHHH!"
I let out a furious scream of denial as I lashed out with my legs, kicking and stamping at the stone brick without a care for the pain it brought. I ranted and raved. I unleashed all my pent up rage against the firm brick, angry tears leaking from behind my tinted glasses at the unfairness of it all.
I flung myself onto the ground, beating my fists futilely as I lamented the latest in a long line of torn-away hopes. All my effort had amounted to nothing. I was still stuck in Larkspur's damnable game. Not even facing my fears was enough.
And the worst part was I was alone. I was alone. No Cobbert to tell me what to do with an outside-the-box plan, no Noman to lend a sympathetic ear, no Soul to reassure me with his courageous strength, no Floyd to rely on.
No Z7 to put me at ease.
I was utterly alone, and with nobody to vent to. Nobody to comfort me and tell me it would all work out. It was all on my shoulders. Everything.
And it was overwhelming.
Inventory (Lenz): 1 Iron Dagger, 20 Brown Wool, 30 Green Wool, 10 Gravel, 11 Dirt, 1 Stick, 19 Rotten Flesh, 1 Ender Pearl, 4 String, 2 Bones, 2 Arrows, 5 Spider Eyes, 7 Cobblestone, 2 Prismarine Crystals, 12 Sugar Cane, 3 Ink Sacs, 5 Torches, 8 Spruce Planks, 1 Chest, 5 Gold Nuggets, 4 Coal, 1 Leather Tunic
[EXP: 28]
AN: Lenz is having a bad time of it.
Lenz: Worst. Beach Episode. EVER.
Just a little glimpse into Teal's Survival Games. It's scaled down with there being only one contestant, and obviously they're not supposed to have weapons, but what fun is Teal gonna have hunting one defenseless guy down? Hope her hubris doesn't bite her in the ass again. She's at least smart enough not to give him any sort of bow.
The Survival Islands had all their trees removed and replaced with fake wool ones. The Mineshafts were torn up too. No planks or logs within a hundred miles of that trio of islands... except what was spawned in by the recent Bounty Days.
Inspiration for this came from playing the Hunger Games Minecraft free-for-all, where you have to loot chests and scavenge food, weapons, and armor to fight other people. It's also about scavenging the means for survival, or escape. Making a boat is a lot harder without logs or planks, and crafting - be it an item or a plan - is nearly impossible without a table, as Lenz learned.
I dunno. I'm a sucker for characters MacGyvering clever solutions out of whatever random crap they can find.
FAV. FOLLOW. REVIEW. FORUM. DISCORD. COD.