38
We do not endorse Stevians nor further exploration of the Nether realms. We have published this book only in accordance to showing our True and Accurate history.
A wandering trader has arrived. This is an unusual occurrence, and the villagers make the opportunity to buy and sell exotities.
Grace has also taken the time to speak with him, and we have, I believe, determined who and where the monsters are coming from.
The villagers call her “Dark-magic-woman-who-lives-in-the-mountains-of-the-north”. Grace believes that she is the ruler of this land and that, if we meet her, she can depose the Magic woman and rule this new land in the name of the Empire.
So we’re off on an adventure.
Grace purchased, from this man, a map.
From the other villages, she has got a set of iron armor, ax and sword, plus a shield.
“Farewell my friends!” She says, “I will return soon!”
The villagers cry and weep, but the promise of Grace’s return as the ruler of this new land brings them hope, both for their lives and their pockets.
We built boats, and rowed down the river, careful to stay close to shore.
“Grace,” I ask, “what is our plan when we meet this woman?”
“Oh, kill her.”
“Isn’t that stupid?”
“Very,” she chuckles.
We underestimated how far the journey was going to be.
Near as Grace could tell, we were about one tenth on in our journey, but the map was confusing.
A marker that moved with us would have helped, a lot we joked.
Our food began to run out.
We found some chickens in the woods, but they made us sick.
Grace didn’t want us to have to stop for food, but the villages on the map didn’t appear where they should have.
“We need to get something to eat,” I said, “or we’ll starve.”
We couldn’t run, and we were nauseated.
We left our boats at the shore of a small cove.
Something groaned from under an old oak tree.
“Zombie!” I yelped, “Grace, you idiot!”
But she was quick with her new sword, and the monster fell dead.
“Oh no!” I yelled.
A creeper exploded behind us.
Soon enough, Grace slew the monsters. She stowed the creeper’s powder, arrows and bones from the skeletons, and the spider’s eyes and strings.
“Eat up,” she ordered me.
The rotten flesh of zombie laid before me.
The smell was pungent, but Grace forced me to eat it.
*
Four days later, and the air became arid.
Soon enough, we arrived in a new village.
It was larger than the last, but they made us welcome.
“Haven’t seen no man round these parts since we laid the King to rest,” explained the church cleric.
“King?” Grace asked.
Apparently, the King-of-the-sand-lands had died only ninety years before, widely known as the last man of the land.
I pondered whether this single man was an endling, or perhaps a washed up man from home, similar to myself?
The villagers, thinking that Grace was a blessing from their Ender Men, gave us an old building on the river.
“I’ve heard rumors around this town,” Grace said, “and the tomb of this man is a mile away. That’s where we’re going next.”
The villagers didn’t recommend it.
“It’s dangerous down there!” They warned, “the king does not like to be disturbed.”
Grace ignored them, and we walked down through the sands. Rabbits skittered around, camels lulled in the sun, and in the distance rose a pyramid.
From a distance it looked to just be a big, triangle shaped pile of sand. But as we got closer, we realized it was made of stone.
“I’m getting bad vibes,” I say.
“Well, I’m not going in alone,” Grace laughs, “it’s fine.”
A cave valley looked like a huge gouge in the land, and the tomb sat on top of it.
Grace pried open an old wooden door, rotten. Paint flaked, once bright, off of the pyramid.
Inside, a single line of sandstone led to the center of the room.
There was pile of brown sand, swirling as if something was inside of it.
On top of the sand was a black skull.
“I’m going to touch it,” Grace says, and she does.
Immediately, we are no longer in a pyramid, but are surrounded by a fiery hellscape.
Glowing stones hang from a high ceiling, where lava pours out, falling into huge lakes below us.
Ghastly white things with fingers float above us.
“Drop the skull!” I yell.
Grace does.
It bounces off of the floor into the depths of the cave.
“Let’s go,” Grace says.
I agree.
A wandering trader has arrived. This is an unusual occurrence, and the villagers make the opportunity to buy and sell exotities.
Grace has also taken the time to speak with him, and we have, I believe, determined who and where the monsters are coming from.
The villagers call her “Dark-magic-woman-who-lives-in-the-mountains-of-the-north”. Grace believes that she is the ruler of this land and that, if we meet her, she can depose the Magic woman and rule this new land in the name of the Empire.
So we’re off on an adventure.
Grace purchased, from this man, a map.
From the other villages, she has got a set of iron armor, ax and sword, plus a shield.
“Farewell my friends!” She says, “I will return soon!”
The villagers cry and weep, but the promise of Grace’s return as the ruler of this new land brings them hope, both for their lives and their pockets.
We built boats, and rowed down the river, careful to stay close to shore.
“Grace,” I ask, “what is our plan when we meet this woman?”
“Oh, kill her.”
“Isn’t that stupid?”
“Very,” she chuckles.
We underestimated how far the journey was going to be.
Near as Grace could tell, we were about one tenth on in our journey, but the map was confusing.
A marker that moved with us would have helped, a lot we joked.
Our food began to run out.
We found some chickens in the woods, but they made us sick.
Grace didn’t want us to have to stop for food, but the villages on the map didn’t appear where they should have.
“We need to get something to eat,” I said, “or we’ll starve.”
We couldn’t run, and we were nauseated.
We left our boats at the shore of a small cove.
Something groaned from under an old oak tree.
“Zombie!” I yelped, “Grace, you idiot!”
But she was quick with her new sword, and the monster fell dead.
“Oh no!” I yelled.
A creeper exploded behind us.
Soon enough, Grace slew the monsters. She stowed the creeper’s powder, arrows and bones from the skeletons, and the spider’s eyes and strings.
“Eat up,” she ordered me.
The rotten flesh of zombie laid before me.
The smell was pungent, but Grace forced me to eat it.
*
Four days later, and the air became arid.
Soon enough, we arrived in a new village.
It was larger than the last, but they made us welcome.
“Haven’t seen no man round these parts since we laid the King to rest,” explained the church cleric.
“King?” Grace asked.
Apparently, the King-of-the-sand-lands had died only ninety years before, widely known as the last man of the land.
I pondered whether this single man was an endling, or perhaps a washed up man from home, similar to myself?
The villagers, thinking that Grace was a blessing from their Ender Men, gave us an old building on the river.
“I’ve heard rumors around this town,” Grace said, “and the tomb of this man is a mile away. That’s where we’re going next.”
The villagers didn’t recommend it.
“It’s dangerous down there!” They warned, “the king does not like to be disturbed.”
Grace ignored them, and we walked down through the sands. Rabbits skittered around, camels lulled in the sun, and in the distance rose a pyramid.
From a distance it looked to just be a big, triangle shaped pile of sand. But as we got closer, we realized it was made of stone.
“I’m getting bad vibes,” I say.
“Well, I’m not going in alone,” Grace laughs, “it’s fine.”
A cave valley looked like a huge gouge in the land, and the tomb sat on top of it.
Grace pried open an old wooden door, rotten. Paint flaked, once bright, off of the pyramid.
Inside, a single line of sandstone led to the center of the room.
There was pile of brown sand, swirling as if something was inside of it.
On top of the sand was a black skull.
“I’m going to touch it,” Grace says, and she does.
Immediately, we are no longer in a pyramid, but are surrounded by a fiery hellscape.
Glowing stones hang from a high ceiling, where lava pours out, falling into huge lakes below us.
Ghastly white things with fingers float above us.
“Drop the skull!” I yell.
Grace does.
It bounces off of the floor into the depths of the cave.
“Let’s go,” Grace says.
I agree.
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