Tales of an 8-Bit Kitten

by Cube Kid

  “He means bats,” I said.

  “Oh. Right.”

  “I’m no wizard, but I believe there’s only one spell that can turn someone into a bat,” Clyde said.

  “Yes.” Greyfellow’s expression grew even more serious. “Polymorph III. This is bad news indeed. He’s much more powerful than we thought.”

  “Why don’t we let Rarg join us, then?” Clyde asked. “If he really does want out of EnderStar’s army, he can tell us everything he knows!”

  “Not a bad idea,” Greyfellow said. “He may also convince his friends to switch sides and join us.”

  Batwing facepalmed again. “Man, don’t you guys know anything? We can’t take any chances! Listen, I’m a wither skeleton, okay? I grew up in that nether fortress. I used to be a bad mob. I know what bad mobs think. And here’s what bad mobs think: bad things. EnderStar probably sent him here and told him to say all of that stuff. And, once we finally start trusting him and let him stay here and feed him mushrooms and slimeball stew and the many other nasty things his kind eats, he’ll learn everything about us, go back to the nether fortress, and squeal like a …um …pigman?”

  The other monsters seemed divided. Some nodded their heads in agreement with Greyfellow and Clyde, and others were thinking along the same lines as Batwing. It was a situation stickier than any slime.

  Then Rarg held out a stack of ender pearls. “Me. G-g-g …g-g . . .”

  “Give?” I asked.

  “Y-yes. Me g-give.”

  “W-where did you get those?!” Batwing cried out.

  “Me grab green things. From big red house. Me g-g …give you. Okay?”

  “Interesting,” Greyfellow said, taking the stack of ender pearls. “First the kitten, and now this.”

  Rarg then held out a stack of gold bars. “Shiny thing. Me also take these. Boss man shiny pile. Boss man have many shiny things in shiny pile.”

  He dropped the stack on to the ground, then he retrieved a stack of shiny green rocks from his inventory and threw them onto the ground as well. Many monsters gasped.

  “So many emeralds!”

  This was followed by at least fifty different glass things filled with water. Although, the water inside wasn’t blue but purple, red, and green.…

  “Potions, too?!”

  “Boss man tell me, always watch bottle things. Make sure no monster take bottle things. Why bottle things so important? Me wonder. But secret. Me try drinking bottle thing once. Me jump very high.” He chuckled. “Me like bottle things.”

  An unbelievable amount of items formed a pile at Rarg’s big boots.

  There were several books, like the one I’m currently writing in. Except, they shimmered purple. Was that due to magic?

  “Enchanting books?!” a few monsters exclaimed.

  Rarg also threw down a pile of shiny whitish-blue rocks. Those are called diamonds, apparently.

  “Boss man say shiny rock most good,” Rarg said. “No eat shiny rock. Shiny rock hard. But shiny rock make good stab thing. Shiny rock also make good body thing, like on head or feet.”

  Around me, the excitement of the other monsters filled the air. They kept chattering away about emeralds, diamonds, enchanted books, potions.…

  “Okay. Very last thing. Shiny metal. I find in wood box. Boss man say this junk. But me think so pretty.”

  Rarg the zombie pigman withdrew another rock from his inventory. Wait, no? It wasn’t a rock. It was a piece of metal? It was bright silver and shimmered many different colors. It was so beautiful. The most common color by far was this dazzling shade of green.

  “Unbelievable,” Greyfellow said. “I don’t believe …this is . . . quite surely, it can’t be.… My fellow monsters, we are looking at a shard. One of the seven shards of Critbringer.”

  Everyone fell silent, and then:

  “Huh?”

  “Shard?”

  “Critbringer?”

  “What are you talking about, Greyfellow?”

  “It looks like a piece of metal to me.”

  “It is a piece of metal,” Greyfellow said. “But not iron. That is adamant, a metal so rare in our time that it was thought to exist only in legend.”

  I remembered the old book Greyfellow had let me borrow.

  …Divine Weapons …all but destroyed during the Second War. Only when their shards have been reunited can each Weapon be fully re-forged.…

  “You mean, this is from one of the sharp sticks mentioned in the book?” I said. “The swords, I mean.”

  “Exactly!” Greyfellow said.

  The other monsters didn’t seem to understand. They looked at each other with total confusion in their square eyes.

  The gray enderman scowled at them. “Fools! Have none of you read of the Prophecy?! This piece of metal is a fragment from the legendary sword Critbringer! A sword forged in ancient times, when monsters far more powerful than any of you roamed in great number! Back then, weapons had to be strong enough for land wyrms, lurkers, and other horrific beasts you cannot possibly imagine! This is one of the only weapons still in existence powerful enough to harm the Eyeless One, whose real name I shall not utter here!”

  “Lurkers?” Batwing sighed. “Are those the giant black squid-like things with one thousand tentacles and a single huge purple eye? The ones that live deep underground? The reason why certain mineshafts are abandoned? The monsters that reduce the durability of your items with a single glance? I thought those things were just a legend.” He shrugged. “Huh. Who knew?”

  “Fool!” Greyfellow grabbed the shard and turned to Rarg. “I can see now that destiny has brought you to us.”

  The enderman addressed the entire crowd: “No harm shall come to this pigman! Free him at once and see to it that he is introduced to our city!” He sighed. “I must go now. I have much work to do. Kitten, come.”

  Rarg turned to me. “Thank you, blue fuzz thing. You help me. Me so happy. You me friend now?”

  “Yes,” I said to Rarg. “Me you friend now.”

  “Breathe!” the endermage shouted. “Breathe!!”

  “I’m breathing,” I said. “I’m breathing! But as you can see, your Grand High Endermage-ness, no fireballs are coming out!”

  “Try harder!”

  Breathe, breathe, breathe.

  Nothing. Just little puffs of air.

  We were back at Greyfellow’s place. The endermage was trying to teach me how to use monster abilities.

  As I exhaled over and over, a non-zombified pigman who stood nearby saw me and started doing the same. Moments later: “O’gorg! Me pants-pants heavy now. I go bathroom now-now.”

  “Leave us at once!” the endermage shouted. The pigman left. “Clyde! Clyde! Oh, where did that silly ghast run off to?!”

  “I’m here!” the ghast called out. “What’s the problem?”

  “Do you see that wall of obsidian?” Greyfellow asked. “Breathe a fireball on it!”

  “Can you stop shouting?”

  “Now!!”

  As commanded, the ghast drew in a deep breath, and—whoosh!—spit out a large fireball. It hit the obsidian wall nearby without any real effect.

  “Now do it again! Keep doing it!”

  One after another, I watched Clyde spit fireballs at the obsidian wall. “Good!” the enderman said. “Now, kitten. You try.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!

  Pretty pathetic. Not even a puff of smoke.

  “You aren’t trying hard enough!” Greyfellow shouted. “Try!!”

  “I am trying!” I shouted.

  “Try harder!!”

  “I am!!”

  “There’s a large chance your homeworld is going to be destroyed, kitten! Do you understand?!”

  I hissed. “Hey! Stop fre
aking out, okay?! For the past hour it’s been ‘Jump here! Swim in that lava over there! Go invisible! Magically spit out fireballs as if you’re a—’”

  Suddenly, my whole body shook.

  Cough, hack.

  Ahackckahackahack.

  Hackhackhackackackkkkkkkkk.

  What’s wrong with me? This is so painful! It’s like coughing up a hairball but ten times worse!

  I coughed up a fireball instead. It was a tiny thing, maybe ten times the size of a spark. It flew out of my mouth and wobbled through the air. There was a sad little sound as it did: p’tweeeeeeeeeeee.…

  This tiny fireball, flying so slowly (slower than a zombie pigman walking) slowed down even more the more it flew toward the wall. It continued making that little noise: eeeeee.…

  We all watched as it continued to fly forward pathetically. It literally took twenty seconds to travel a distance of nine blocks. Finally, there was a slight sputtering sound as it hit the wall and vanished.

  I coughed again. A little puff of smoke came out. For a long time afterward: silence.

  I looked at Clyde. Clyde looked at the enderman. The enderman looked at me. I looked at the enderman. The enderman looked at Clyde. Clyde looked at me. Then we all looked at the small obsidian wall my tiny little fireball had struck.

  “I don’t believe it,” Greyfellow said. “The Prophecy! It really is true!”

  Clyde started spinning around frantically. “So cool, Eeebs! Wow! I knew you could do it!”

  “Yeah, yeah, not bad, kid!” Batwing was standing in the doorway, now. “So, you’re some kind of mutant, huh?”

  Moments later, I heard a familiar voice. A girl’s voice. Most of all, it was the voice of a kitten. “Hey?! Eeebs?! What was that?!”

  Tufty and Meowz were also standing in the doorway. My friends from the Overworld. Strangely, although I recognized them, they no longer looked like kittens. Not really.

  Big claws.

  Ridiculously long ears.

  As a matter of fact, and, as strange as it sounds,

  well … they almost kind of looked like me.

  Yesterday, I breathed fire.

  At the same time, my friends showed up, Tufty and Meowz. They were pretty much in the same boat as I was several days ago: clueless.

  They still resembled their former selves. Tufty was still orange-ish. Meowz was still mostly white. However, they looked scary now. Like an-enderman-staring-at-you-in-a-totally-dark-room-making-weird-little-noises-with-only-its-glowing-purple-eyes-being-visible scary. Actually, worse than that. Like my-mom-calling-me-by-my-full-name-and-threatening-to-make-me-eat-pufferfish-casserole-for-a-week scary or human-trying-to-tame-me-with-a-pumpkin-instead-of-a-fish scary.

  Meowz crept into the house. “Eeebs?”

  Tufty followed her in with his tail between his legs.

  The endermage, Greyfellow, nearly fainted upon seeing them. He turned to Batwing. “I can’t … I don’t … what is happening, Batwing? Yesterday, everything was so normal. I was drinking some redstone tea, thinking about what to craft. Then this kitten shows up with the mark. Then a zombie pigman not only joins our side but hands over EnderStar’s treasure horde. Then, the kitten actually breathes fire. I’d never believed in the Prophecy myself!

  Did you? And now two of his friends arrive, apparently Chosen as well.…”

  He trailed off and appeared to be looking at something far away.

  Batwing sighed. “Three kittens as Chosen Animals. Why couldn’t it have been something way more crazy, like a chicken and a donkey? A bat and a cow?”

  “I was hoping for a squid and a pig!” Clyde said. “I read about squids, once.”

  “Anything but three kittens.” The wither skeleton nudged Greyfellow.

  The endermage mumbled absently, still staring ahead: “I like redstone tea … and … kittens … three kittens … what does it mean … ?”

  “So, these are your friends, Eeebs?” Clyde smiled. Well, he didn’t, really, but he didn’t sniffle or anything like that, and his frown vanished. That’s pretty much like smiling for a ghast.

  “Yes,” I said, approaching Tufty and Meowz.

  “We came across the witch,” Meowz said. “She told us everything.”

  “We didn’t believe her when she said we could use the abilities of monsters,” Tufty said. “It’s true, though. This is so cool! How can I breathe fire like that?”

  “You guys really shouldn’t have followed me,” I said. “Really. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourselves into.”

  Meowz looked like she was about to cry. “Eeebs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “About that, purrrr …”

  I tried telling them about the Prophecy, and I showed them Greyfellow’s book. It was hard for me to explain everything to them, and the endermage wouldn’t chime in and help me out. He just kept babbling on about redstone tea: how he liked it warm although not too warm, how he added some crushed flower petals like blue orchids to the recipe to make it taste better, how he thought it further improved the taste and added “more kick” when he made it using a brewing stand instead of a crafting table.…

  I turned to the endermage. “Hey? Greyfellow? Who wrote this book, anyway?”

  “… it’s the bubbling process,” he mumbled. “A brewing stand aerates the tea, providing a more crisp and refreshing flavor.…”

  My ears and tail lowered, I started thinking that after learning how to spit fireballs, my next power was going to be to shoot smoke out of my ears.

  “Right,” I said. “Forget about who wrote it, then. What I really mean to ask is, how did they know all of this stuff was going to happen? How did they know three animals would be changed?”

  Greyfellow nodded. “Why, yes … pink tulip certainly tastes better than oxeye daisy, yes … yes, indeed.…”

  “Um, what’s wrong with him?” Batwing said.

  Clyde shrugged. Well, Clyde has no shoulders—he’s just a giant white block with a face, really—but, anyway, for some reason I felt that he shrugged. “Too much has happened today.”

  “You could say that.” The wither skeleton glanced out the window. “I’ll go check on Rarg and see if he’s okay. Listen, Eeebs. Why don’t you hold off on telling your friends about the Prophecy till our endermage friend here isn’t bumbling around like a land squid? In the meantime, you can show your friends around the city. Cool?”

  “Sure,” I said, glancing at the two nether kittens. “Shall we?”

  The three of us left Greyfellow’s hut. I didn’t freak out at the sight of my friends, not even then. I was still so shocked by everything. I was about to join the endermage. If just one more crazy thing had happened, I’d have started mumbling about pufferfish cookies: how to align the eggs, milk, and sugar pixel by pixel on the crafting table in a purrfect way to achieve a five-star rating from the International Minecraftian Baker’s Society, in not only consistency but also form and texture, the lightness of the bread, crisp yet never crumbling, with each tiny cube of sugar and baked pufferfish spread evenly throughout the biscuits to achieve a pastry both magnificent to the eye and simply bursting with flavor.

  But then I wasn’t sure if the International Minecraftian Baker’s Society had such a refined taste as a nether kitten’s, and soon I began to wonder whether any of them would appreciate the elegance of a cookie made of equal parts sugar and fish.

  Speaking of Greyfellow.

  (Wait … I wasn’t speaking of him. Whatever.)

  Anyway, here are a few drawings of his house.

  Well, I showed my friends around Good Mob City. We didn’t talk much, though. They were just as silent as me.

  I mean, all of this stuff has happened so fast. Just a week ago, we were playing hide-and-seek. Now, we’re nothing like
our former selves. We’re supposed to help save the world.

  An hour or so later we headed back to the gray enderman. He’d finally calmed down a little.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “I just couldn’t believe it. Still can’t. The Prophecy really is true?! Which means … our world is going to suffer through yet another Great War.”

  “What are we supposed to do?” I asked, getting straight to the point.

  “Hmm. First, let’s try something. Kittens, I want you to think about the word ‘ability.’ Or just imagine your abilities in general. Picture them in your mind.”

  Tufty must have thought of his abilities first.

  Seconds after the endermage spoke, a gray screen appeared before the orange nether kitten. This screen was completely flat, two-dimensional, and seemed to be made out of colored light.

  “Wow!” Meowz waved a paw through Tufty’s screen, and it passed through without any resistance. “What is that thing?”

  “Those screens are called visual enchantments,” the enderman said. “They can be used to interact with objects or your inventory, or they can simply display data.”

  “And what are abilities?” Tufty asked.

  “All monsters have abilities,” Greyfellow said. “Creepers move silently. Endermen teleport. Zombies break down doors. Of course, you kittens have more abilities than any normal mob.”

  I tried to concentrate on the word “ability.”

  A screen appeared before me as well.

  The enderman then told us that we could either touch an ability’s name on the screen or focus on it with our mind to access another screen. This screen would tell us more about that specific ability.

  When I batted at the words “Obsidian Fur” with a paw, the words upon the screen changed to:

  “If you want to go back to the first screen,” Greyfellow said, “just concentrate on that word. ‘Back.’ Or you could speak it out loud.”