Last Stand on the Ocean Shore

by Mark Cheverton

  OK, he thought to the Oracle. I’ll get doors, even if I don’t really understand how they could help us.

  But then another image materialized in his mind. It was a large, pale yellow cube, the blocky structure covered with razor-sharp purple spines. At its rear, Gameknight could see a long, segmented tail with a wide fin on the end. It was some kind of frightening sea creature. He could see a single evil-looking eye on one side of its huge body, its center colored bright red. It reminded him of a mythical Cyclops, like the one that fought Ulysses.

  He shuddered.

  The creature was massive, far bigger than Gameknight999, and looked more dangerous than any of the monstrous creatures Herobrine had thrown at him so far. Was the Oracle telling him that he would have to face this monstrosity? Or perhaps this beast would be his ally and would help him in his quest?

  Which one is it? Gameknight thought to the Oracle, but he received only silence for an answer.

  Sighing, he put aside his uncertainties and followed his friends to the village.

  CHAPTER 8

  XA-TUL

  Herobrine appeared in a cavern deep underground. Instantly, heat, smoke, and ash from lava assaulted his senses. Taking in a huge breath, he smiled. Hanging from the ceiling in front of him was the massive, hulking body of a zombie wrapped in chainmail. The zombie’s feet were firmly entrenched in a spider’s web that was attached to the stony roof. The huge monster hung over a small pit of lava, its heat slowly driving the HP from the hulking creature. A shimmering green HP fountain jutted out of a nearby wall, spraying emerald-green splashes of life just out of reach of the tortured monster.

  Moving around the upside-down body, Herobrine inspected his creation. As he stepped to the front, Xa-Tul saw his Maker and replaced the look of helplessness on his face with one of grim determination

  “The Maker returns to release Xa-Tul?” the zombie king asked.

  Herobrine walked slowly toward the pit of lava; the heat and smoke from the molten stone was delicious. The golden helm of Xa-Tul, his crown of claws, was balanced precariously on the edge of a block. The slightest bump or smallest vibration would send the golden crown into the boiling mass of stone.

  “You disappointed me when you fought the User-that-is-not-a-user,” Herobrine said. “You allowed yourself to be defeated, and failure will not be tolerated. I need to make sure that you have sufficiently learned your lesson.”

  Herobrine walked around the zombie king and could see that the monster was just barely alive. He was on the brink of disappearing into the void; the only thing keeping him alive was the occasional splatter of green sparks from the nearby HP fountain. There is nothing more torturous than having salvation just out of reach. It made Herobrine smile.

  “Have you learned your lesson, zombie?” Herobrine asked, his eyes glowing dangerously bright.

  Xa-Tul nodded his head vigorously, though the spider web made any movement difficult.

  “If I had not appeared at the end of that battle, the User-that-is-not-a-user would have destroyed you. This is an embarrassment that I will not tolerate again … is that understood?”

  Xa-Tul again nodded his head, his red eyes filled with sincerity. “Xa-Tul will do as the Maker commands and will not fail.”

  “Very well,” Herobrine said.

  Reaching into his inventory, he pulled out a pail of water and poured it on the bubbling pool of lava. Instantly, the glowing orange liquid solidified, forming dark obsidian. Herobrine then pulled out his diamond sword and cut through the webs that held the zombie king in the air. With the last bit of gossamer sliced away, Xa-Tul fell to the ground in a heap and flashed red, his HP precariously close to zero. He crawled to the nearby HP fountain, then lay on the ground as the green sparks fell across his body and rejuvenated him, drawing him back from the brink of destruction. As his HP returned to full, the zombie king stood up straight, then moved toward the obsidian blocks. His chain mail clinked as he walked, his steps thundering across the purple and black stone. Leaning down, the zombie king picked up his crown of claws. Placing the hot piece of metal on his head, he turned and faced his master.

  “Xa-Tul is ready for the Maker’s commands,” the zombie king said in a guttural, animal-like voice.

  Herobrine paced back and forth before the huge monster. Looking up at his creation, he knew that Gameknight999 would defeat Xa-Tul if they faced each other in battle, especially now that his enemy had learned how to wield two swords at the same time, just like that blacksmith had done those many years ago. He needed something to help his zombie king, but knew that he could not make him stronger … and certainly not smarter. And then an idea came to Herobrine.

  “Xa-Tul, I will give you allies to help you defeat our enemies,” Herobrine said. “I will create three other kings over which you will have command. You will be my four kings … the four horsemen of the apocalypse, who will deliver destruction to the NPC army.”

  “Xa-Tul does not need a horse,” grumbled the zombie king.

  Herobrine’s eyes flared bright with anger, causing Xa-Tul to lower his head.

  “War is an art, you fool, and needs to be done with style,” Herobrine said. “This will add to the User-that-is-not-a-user’s fear, and make him easier to deal with when the Last Battle lands on his doorstep.”

  “Forgive Xa-Tul,” the zombie said.

  “Just shut up.”

  Herobrine disappeared from the cave, then reappeared with a gray horse on a line. He placed a fencepost in the ground far from the HP fountain, tied the horse in place, then teleported across the chamber. Grabbing a zombie, he reappeared next to the horse.

  “Thank you for volunteering,” Herobrine said to the zombie, then struck him with his diamond sword.

  Instantly, the zombie fell to the ground, his HP nearly consumed. Herobrine did the same to the horse, bringing it to the brink of death. He pulled the two creatures together and used his crafting powers to combine them into one. As he worked, Herobrine’s hands glowed a pale, sickly yellow that seemed to seep into the bodies on which he worked. Slowly, the two forms merged into a new shape, one that was bigger and greener that before.

  When he finished his work, Herobrine dragged the creation to the HP fountain. As glowing sparks of HP danced across the body and rejuvenated its life force, the new creature slowly stood on its four strong legs. Before him now stood a huge zombie-horse, its eyes black as pitch, red pupils burning within. Its skin shared the same sickly green look that all zombies possessed, with flaps of decaying flesh hanging off here and there. Grabbing the lead that was still wrapped around its neck, Herobrine pulled the beast toward Xa-Tul.

  “This is your mount,” Herobrine explained. “You will make sure that the NPCs of the Overworld see you on it, for it will strike fear in their hearts.”

  “As the Maker commands,” Xa-Tul said while mounting the beast.

  Turning, Herobrine could see zombies approaching from the nearby zombie-town that was housed in this massive chamber, their sad moans echoing off the stone walls. They sensed Herobrine’s presence and came, ready to hear their master’s commands. He waited for the collection of decaying creatures to gather near, then placed a block of stone on the ground, then another, so that he was standing high above them all. With his eyes glowing bright, he turned and faced the mob, speaking to Xa-Tul, but also to the masses.

  “Here is your task, zombie king,” Herobrine explained. “Gather all zombies here in this zombie-town. Expand the walls using creepers so that the size of the cavern can be increased tenfold. Use as many creepers as you need, for we will not be using them in the Last Battle for Minecraft. Go to the other servers and bring all their zombies here as well. The greatest zombie army of all time will be gathered. Once they are here, and my little friends have found the User-that-is-not-a-user, I will take all of you to our enemy. We will destroy all of his NPC friends, and then I will destroy him myself.” He then leaned closer to the zombie king. “My winged messengers are out looking for the User-
that-is-not-a-user and his rabble. When they find them, the bats will report to you. I want you to punish him a little, by destroying some of his friends.” Herobrine then glared at Xa-Tul, his evil eyes glowing bright. “There will be no mistakes this time. It this understood?”

  The zombie king nodded his head.

  “There is a second task as well. Zombies, I command you go to out and gather all the leather you can find. I have already given this message to many zombie-towns on this server, but more must be collected. Search the land for cows and collect their leather, for we will need as much as we can get. Use the zombie portals and command the other zombie-towns to do the same; we must collect every bit of leather we can find.” He paused for a moment and allowed his eyes to flare bright, letting them know that failure to follow his commands meant death. “Now, go … I have others to gather. But soon the world of NPCs will quake in fear of the army that I will form. And with the old hag gone, I can move about with impunity, and there is nothing to stop me. The Four Horsemen and their armies will vanquish the NPCs in the Last Battle for Minecraft, and I will have my revenge on the User-that-is-not-a-user and those in the physical world.”

  He laughed an evil, maniacal laugh that made all the zombies cringe in fear, then teleported away, his glowing eyes the last thing to disappear.

  CHAPTER 9

  STONECUTTER

  The NPCs walked through most of the morning in silence, the heat hammering them into silent submission. But as the sun rose, so did their spirits. Gameknight walked with Filler on his shoulders, her small body being more of a joy to bear than a burden. Next to him strode Stonecutter, Topper sitting tall and proud on his stocky shoulders. The young brother and sister made it their job to serve as lookouts for the community, and they took their responsibility seriously. They scanned the sunbaked landscape as the group walked the pale empty desert, watching for threats.

  Putting the temple to their backs, they headed for the distant village, its tall watchtower just barely visible through the desert haze.

  “I’ve never been in a desert village before,” Gameknight said. “Only ones on the plains or in the savannah. This is the first desert village I’ve actually explored.”

  “It won’t be that exciting,” Stonecutter explained. “It’s like every other village. I should know; mine was a desert village until it was destroyed.”

  “What?” exclaimed Monet, who was walking right behind.

  “Your village was destroyed?” Crafter asked as he walked next to the stocky NPC.

  Stonecutter nodded solemnly, then raised his hand, fingers stretched out wide. Slowly he clenched his hand into a massive fist, squeezing it tight, performing the salute for the dead, then lowered it back down and grabbed hold of Topper’s slim leg again.

  “Please, tell us what happened,” Crafter said.

  Stonecutter sighed.

  “It is difficult,” the stocky stonecutter said, his voice cracking with emotion. “You see, it was my fault … it was all my fault.”

  “That can’t be true,” Monet said. “One person can’t be responsible for an entire village. Tell us what happened.”

  He sighed again, then slowly nodded his head.

  “I was out working on a nearby jungle temple when they came. We heard distant rumbling and thought it was thunder, but noticed that there weren’t any clouds in the sky … so I kept working. Then the rumbling got louder and started to happen more frequently … it was strange. The warriors who were with me at the jungle temple went to investigate. One of them, Woodcutter, tried to get me to go with him.

  “‘Come on,’ Woodcutter said. ‘There’s something wrong; we have to go check it out and make sure the village is safe.’

  “But I refused, because I knew that nothing could hurt my village.”

  “How did you know your village was safe if you couldn’t see it?” Monet asked.

  “Because I built the wall that surrounded it,” Stonecutter answered. “I cut each stone by hand, shaping every block so that they all fit perfectly together. The sides were perfectly vertical, the tops perfectly flat. Every piece fit together so tight that not even a bat could have squeezed through. And, just to be safe, I made it two layers thick. Not even a creeper could have punched a hole through it.”

  A look of pride came across Stonecutter’s face as he thought about his wall—his work of art—but then a sad look filled his eyes.

  “So, instead of making sure that my village was safe, I stayed at the temple, to work on my art!” He spat the word as if it were poison. “You see, I was trying to make the greatest jungle temple ever seen in Minecraft. It would be a work of such magnificence that no one, user nor NPC, would dare set foot in it, for it would be too spectacular for mere mortals to enter. And after I finished,” he paused to wipe a tear from his eye, “everyone would know that Stonecutter had built this magnificent structure and that I was the greatest stonecutter in Minecraft.” He sniffled as more tears ran down his square cheeks. “How pathetic I was.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be the best, Stonecutter,” Topper said from the big NPC’s shoulders.

  “There is when ego gets in the way of responsibility!” he snapped.

  “What do you mean?” Gameknight asked.

  Stonecutter turned and looked at Gameknight999. His tears dripped off his chin and landed on his gray smock, creating wet spots that collected dust from the desert. His stone-gray eyes bore into Gameknight with a sad intensity that made the User-that-is-not-user look away.

  “At that moment, all I wanted to do was work on my temple, not because I was doing it for Minecraft, but because I was doing it for me … for me!” Stonecutter turned his head and looked at everyone around him, then looked at the village in the distance. It was getting closer, and they would reach their destination soon. “I let my desire to be famous get in the way of my responsibility.”

  “What was your responsibility?” Gameknight asked.

  “To keep my village safe,” Stonecutter said in a loud voice, as if he were stating some kind of universal truth. “To keep my wife and son safe … to keep everyone’s wife and son safe! I built a wall that was supposed to protect everyone in my village, but instead of being there to make sure that it did its job, I was out trying to build a stupid temple … just to satisfy my ego.”

  “Stonecutter … what happened?” Crafter asked.

  “My wall failed,” he said in a soft voice, almost a whimper. “The monsters were able to break through and get into the village. The thunder that I heard wasn’t thunder at all … it was creepers, lots of them.”

  “But you can’t be blamed for that,” Monet said, putting a reassuring hand on the NPC’s shoulder. “A wall can only do so much. I’m sure there were other defenses to help stop the monsters.”

  “You don’t get it!” he snapped. “I was so arrogant and confident about my wall that I convinced our crafter to forget about building other defenses. I told him that nothing could get through my wall, not even a creeper.”

  “But you didn’t plan on twenty creepers, did you?” Hunter asked.

  Stonecutter spun his head to glare at her, angry at her accusation … but instantly saw in her eyes that she was not accusing, but rather commiserating.

  “I too lost my village to the monsters,” Hunter said. “And I was not there to protect them with my bow. I was out hunting instead of being home. But the thing was, we didn’t need the food. There was enough for a while, so I could have been home with my family, but instead I was out in the forest, testing my skill.” She paused as a tear trickled down her cheek, only to get trapped in one of the crimson curls that hung next to her face. “I too failed my friends and family.”

  She moved forward and walked next to Stonecutter, letting her arm brush against the big NPC, her touch lending support. Stonecutter looked down at her and nodded his head.

  “Hunter is right, I didn’t plan on twenty creepers,” Stonecutter continued. “When I finished working for the day,
I headed back to my village. But when I reached the edge of the jungle, I expected to be greeted by the sight of my fabulous wall … but all I saw was smoke and a huge crater where my village had once stood. They destroyed everything except my wall! I could see where they broke through, but once inside the perimeter, there was nothing to stop them.

  “Sprinting as fast as I could, I went down to see if there were any survivors … but I found only one. It was Woodcutter, the warrior who had been with me at the temple. I found him propped up against my wall, in pain. He was badly wounded, and I could tell that he would not survive the night.

  “He said that he saw the whole thing from the edge of the jungle. A huge army of monsters came to our village—creepers, zombies, spiders, but also monsters from the Nether as well. The creepers went in first. But since there were no archer towers … because of me … they were able to just walk up to the wall and detonate. Some warriors fired from the top of my wall, but the blazes kept most of the archers from being very effective. First, two of the green beasts would scurry up to the wall and explode, then two more, then two more. Slowly, they tore through the wall until it crumbled. Then the rest of the monsters streamed into the village and destroyed everything. The blazes burned all the homes to the ground. Fortunately, the majority were empty; most of the NPCs evacuated to the crafting chamber, my family among them.

  “But when they were done destroying the homes, the creepers went to work on the watchtower. They blew it to bits, leaving a massive crater in the ground, exposing the secret tunnel. Woodcutter said that was when the ghast showed up. He said it was the biggest thing he’d ever seen, a huge bone-white creature with long tentacles and blazing red eyes. Woodcutter ran down to the village with his axe in hand, hoping to stop some of them, but once he got into the village, blazes fell on him. They blasted him with fireballs, and left him for dead … but he wasn’t. With just enough HP to stay alive, but not enough to stand, all he could do was sit there and watch the nightmare.”