The Mob War - Chapter 1

Hello, fellow PlanetMinecraftians! I bring to thee: a brand new story: The Mob War!

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Brief description: The story of a war between Herobrine and Notch, and their struggle to keep control over the mobs of Minecraftia...

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Deep down underneath the Overworld, past the layer of bedrock, in the depths of the Nether, an old man cackled. Now, this wasno t your average cackling maniac. This was the cackling maniac. Herobrine.

Herobrine worked particularly hard when it came to ruling the Nether (and maybe even the Overworld, if possible), so he set up a laboratory in a deep hole under a vast sea of lava in which he would create unimaginable contraptions and creatures. What, you ask, is the purpose of these things? To wreak havoc unto the Overworld. Yep, thato s right. Weo re talking about a malicious Nether-living madman.

He worked on many projects in order to fulfill his thirst for creating chaos in the Overworld. On one particular morning (if thato s even possible in the Nethero ¦ Who knows? Is it always night or day in the Nether? Are there seasons? Hmm, thato s something to think abouto ¦) Where was I again? Oh, yes. On one particular whateveryoucallit, Herobrine decided to make some hostile mobs. He chuckled to himself, o Hahahahaha, those n00bs in the Overworld wono t know what hit them! Io ll unleash so many dangerous mobs upon their peaceful world! Bwahahaha!o

And 11 being Herobrineo s favorite number, he created 11 hostile mobs designed to try to kill the poor, helpless Minecraftians. 7 for the Overworld, and 4 for the Nether, just in case those meddling players somehow get to the Nether without Herobrineo s permission. (I know how you feel right now. Youo re probably thinking: o Ummm, Io m perfectly capable of protecting myself from those wretched mobs. Theyo re hardly hostile! Blah blah blah!o But no, youo re wrong. That was before the raging war between Notch and Herobrine: The Mob War. Dono t worry, Io ll explain soon enough.)

So on the course of 11 days, Herobrine was hunched over his laboratory table, barely eating (he normally eats rotten flesh. YUM!) or sleeping, or doing anything else but creating hostilities.