by Dr. Block
Don’t get me wrong, I did admire Otis’s enthusiasm, but his aggressive approach was more likely to get him killed then to succeed in defeating Herobrine. We needed a plan. But, after my time with Otis, I knew I would never be able to change him. He was who he was, the opinions of others meant nothing to him.
I decided to take the conversation back. “So, anyway, the general here is going to bring 200 of his special forces to help us fight Herobrine, but we still need more troops to confront what is sure to be a massive, powerful army. You know Herobrine is going to have hundreds if not thousands of creatures in his army.”
“I was thinking that maybe we could round up some of our fellow zombies,” says Zeb. “Maybe we can channel their villager-killing energy toward Herobrine.”
“Do you think they would do that?” I asked. “I mean, you think they are brave enough? I know the only reason I’m doing this is because I have to. If I don’t, Herobrine would continue to send his minions after me and destroy the world.”
Zeb smiled, his rotten, black and brown teeth somehow emitting a glowing light into the room. “Zeke, you underestimate our kind. Once they find out that Herobrine plans to destroy the world, they’ll come around. I mean, if there were no world, then there would be no villagers to attack.”
“I can probably get a few hundred chickens to join us,” said Harold. “If nothing else, they can lay a bunch of eggs and we can throw them at the enemy. It could be a distraction.”
I had to laugh at Harold’s enthusiasm. I doubted much help could come from an army of chickens and their eggs in a battle of this magnitude, but we needed all the help we could get.
“That sounds like an egg-cellent idea, Harold,” I said. “Why don’t you and Bob handle that. Let the chickens know that we will be gathering in the forest about an hour’s walk from this village. I don’t want Herobrine to think this village is helping us to attack.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” said Harold before turning around and tapping Bob’s back with his wing. “Let’s go, Bob. I’m sure we can round up some feisty foul in no time.”
“That’s right,” said Bob. “We aren’t chick-cant’s we are chick-cans!”
A collective moan went through the room as Bob and Harold strutted out the door.
The general looked at Otis and said, “Do you think you can gather some zombie pigmen to help us, Otis?”
Otis had a pained expression on his face. I could tell he was thinking back to when we were in the Nether and those other zombie pigmen insulted him because he had spawned when lightning struck near a pig rather than in the more traditional pigman way.
“I suppose I could try. But, you know, most pigmen don’t like me very much.”
The general looked at me for verification. I nodded. “It’s true. Probably best we send someone else to speak with the pigmen. I can do it if you want,” I said.
“That will be fine. Thank you,” said General Matias. “That settles it. We’ll go gather as many forces we can and then meet in the forest. Shall we say two days from now?”
“That sounds good to me,” I said. Zeb and Otis nodded their heads.
“One last thing,” said the general. “You think we can get any villagers to help us?”
I was concerned about using villagers. “Do we really want to involve them in this? I mean, they all have families and Herobrine will seek revenge on them if they help us.”
“We don’t care!” said a voice coming from a crack in the kitchen window.
I turned my head rapidly and saw two twelve-year-old villagers, a boy and a girl, peeking in the window.
It was Jackson and Pica. I had talked with them a few times over the past days.
“I admire your spirit, kids,” said the general. “But we can’t allow you to join the battle without your parents’ consent.”
“Well, then come talk to our parents,” said Pica.
“Yeah, there was going to be a town hall meeting tonight anyway. You can make the announcement there,” explained Jackson.
Chapter 7
The villagers had assembled for their town hall meeting in a large wooden building in the village’s central plaza. Everyone from the village was there. It was standing room only.
All the villagers knew we were living in the village, but, with the exception of the kids who had been spying on us, none of them had seen the enderman yet. When he walked in I could hear several villagers say, “Don’t look him in the eyes!”
The ender general raised his hands and said, “It’s okay people. You can look in my eyes tonight. You won’t make me attack you. I’m here to help.”
A collective sigh passed through the room.
Maybe they weren’t ready for a battle against Herobrine, if they’re afraid of a single enderman.
The village librarian took the stage and called for silence. He then explained that the Ender King was missing and that my friends and I were going to have to battle Herobrine without the King’s assistance.
“And they can use all the help they can get,” continued the librarian. “That’s why we called this meeting. If any of you wimpy villagers want to join the battle against Herobrine, now’s the time. They are going to march toward Herobrine’s fortress just a few days from now. So it’s time to prepare. Whoever wants to go, should sign this document.”
The librarian held up a large piece of parchment. “Once you sign, you cannot change your mind. This document will also serve as your last will and testament in the likely event that you die in battle. That way, we will know to whom we should give your possessions. After all, hurr, what’s more important than your possessions?”
A murmuring started to pass through the crowd as they discussed whether to volunteer for the battle against Herobrine. I could see a few of the adult male villagers seriously considering joining. I could tell who they were because they were arguing with their wives who did not want them to leave.
Interestingly, most of the children seemed to want to go. They were viewing it more as an adventure then a potential life and death struggle. But, the parents knew the stakes, and they did not let any of the children volunteer. I was relieved.
Once the discussion had ceased, only five villagers volunteered. Two blacksmiths, two farmers, and the librarian himself.
I could tell General Matias was disappointed with the results, but they had made their own choice. We were not going to force them to “volunteer” the way Herobrine would have. But, if Herobrine were victorious because they had failed to risk their lives, then they would have to live with that in the eternity of oblivion after the destruction of the world.
The five village volunteers stepped forward as the rest of the villagers watched in awed silence. They all signed the librarian’s parchment.
The librarian then gave the parchment to the village’s mayor and said, “Hold tight to this, Mayor Max. Be sure to distribute the possessions of any of us who … well, who don’t return.”
“I shall consider it my sacred duty,” replied Mayor Max.
The five volunteers then stood before the general who looked at them with pride and said, “Thank you, men. Please gather any weapons you own and food for at least two weeks and meet us in the forest two days from now.”
The men nodded curtly and left with their families.
Otis was talking excitedly with the general about his ideas to sneak up on Herobrine. The general was listening, but I could tell he thought Otis was crazy.
I pulled Zeb a short distance away so we could talk more confidentially. “This is getting real,” I said. “Some of those villagers are going to die.”
Zeb nodded his head. “Maybe. It is the way of things. I wish it weren’t, but it is. Death is a natural part of life. It is only war that is unnatural. Still, this is something that must be done, for the sake of all of us. For the sake of the world. For the sake of Minecraft. For the sake of Notch.”
That final statement surprised me. “What does Notch have to do with this? I know you told me
all about that balance stuff, but where’s the balance now? The Ender King is missing. Herobrine looks like he’s on his way to realizing his evil plan to destroy the world. Notch doesn’t care.”
It was Zeb’s turn to shake his head. “That is where you are wrong, Zeke. I’m not sure I can really explain it. But, Notch does care.”
“Then, why doesn’t he stop all this?” I shouted.
“Maybe it is part of his divine plan,” suggested Zeb.
“Well, I’m going to take a little more convincing before I buy that. Right now, I’m just doing this to stay alive. I’m doing this for my friends.” I stood there with my arms crossed against my chest.
Zeb smiled at me in a kindly way. “Well, then, that will be good enough.”
Chapter 8
It did not take me long to gather some pigman volunteers. I stopped by their lair and told them about the situation.
Unlike some of the pigmen we had met in the Nether in the past, these guys were ready to battle Herobrine.
“It is our world, too,” said one of them.
In the end, about fifty pigmen agreed to join our army. They gathered their swords and some food, and marched to the forest training ground.
When they met Otis, they looked at him with suspicion. Somehow, they were able to tell that he was the spawn of lightning and pig. Still, they had all heard about his bravery in prior battles, and you could tell they respected that.
Harold and Bob had returned empty-winged. No other chickens had wanted to join.
“I had forgotten how cowardly most chickens truly are,” Harold explained sadly.
“I am ashamed of my plumage,” added Bob.
Zeb was similarly without success in securing zombie volunteers.
“I hate to say I told you so, but …” I said to Zeb when he returned all alone from his recruiting trip.
Zeb sighed. “They couldn’t seem to think beyond their next meal of villager flesh. We will have to be enough.”
For the few volunteers we did have, the training area had taken shape quickly. The Ender general and his elite soldiers had set up an obstacle course, a hand-to-hand combat training area and even a live-fire area where small TNT explosions simulated the chaos of battle.
The idea was that we would spend a day or two training in battle tactics and then march off to find Herobrine.
At first, the endermen tried to teach us how to battle using their techniques, but nearly all of their martial arts involved teleportation.
“This is useless,” said one of the pigmen. “We can’t teleport. Teach us how to use our swords better or make bombs or something.”
“Not much of a general, is he?” muttered Otis.
The general gave Otis a hateful look, but remained silent because it was true that teleportation was useless for anyone other than an enderman.
From then on, the endermen taught us non-teleporting battle techniques. Otis was a natural. Whenever he was told to attack a dummy, he rushed at it, avoided any traps, and then plunged his sword into the dummy’s chest.
The Ender general nodded his head with approval.
When the handful of villagers arrived for training, they joined in, but you could tell they had never been in a fight.
The Ender general gathered the villagers to him. “Look, guys, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but you are the most pathetic warriors I have ever seen in my life. I’ve seen slimes that can fight better than you.”
The villagers all hung their heads in shame.
“Is there nothing we can do? Hurrr,” one asked sadly.
The general thought for a few moments and then said, “How about this? You can build and repair weapons, cook food, and tend to the wounded.”
“I guess that sounds okay,” said another villager.
“And,” added the general, “you can gather and keep any drops from the dead enemy.”
The general’s appeal to villager greed worked wonders for their morale. They all grinned and rubbed their hands together.
“War is awesome!” they shouted together.
The general and I both shook our heads sadly. We knew the realities of battle. It certainly was not awesome.
“Get to it,” ordered the general. “It is almost lunchtime, and I’m starving.”
The villagers practically fell over themselves to set up a kitchen and seating area for everyone.
With the villagers assigned their roles, the general motioned for me to follow him.
When we were out of earshot of anyone, the general asked, “Have you any idea where Herobrine might be?”
I shrugged. “Last time we fought, it was in the Nether. But, I doubt he’d still be there. Too obvious.”
“Agreed. It seems to me that he would be in the Overworld somewhere. I mean, if his goal is to destroy all of Minecraft, he should destroy the Overworld since it links the End and the Nether.”
“W. W. H. D?” I asked rhetorically.
“Huh?”
“What would Herobrine do?” I explained. “I am trying to put myself in his place. If I were Herobrine, where would I set up my base?”
“Somewhere remote? The desert biome?” suggested the general.
“I like the remoteness angle, but the desert is too boring. Herobrine loves attention. He is a total drama queen.”
The general laughed. “I never thought about it that way, but now that you mention it….”
I snapped my fingers as I had a sudden revelation. “The extreme hills biome. It’s remote, but it is also a dramatic landscape. He probably has a fortress at the top of a mountain where he can see everything.”
“You may be right,” said the general.
General Matias turned sharply and yelled, “Patrol! Come here at once!”
I nearly fainted when five ender soldiers materialized in front of the general almost instantaneously. They stood tall and saluted.
“Men, Zeke and I believe that Herobrine may be hiding in an extreme hills biome. Perform a thorough search. But, be careful not to be seen. We do not want to lose the element of surprise.”
The endermen saluted once more and then disappeared.
“Now what?” I asked.
“We wait. And, we train.”
Chapter 9
Yes, back to the training.
I took a few passes at the training dummies, pretending they were some sort of hostile mob commanded by Herobrine.
What would they be?
Would he have an army of baby zombies? Or chicken jockeys? How horrible would that be to have to kill my own kind?
After I took a few more passes at the fake enemy soldiers, chopping off heads and hands with my diamond sword, I took a break and sat down by Zeb.
“Zeb, I thought I’d be feeling more scared the closer we came to attacking Herobrine, but now I’m just sad … and angry.”
Zeb nodded his head knowingly. “Channel the anger and determination into your willingness to battle Herobrine.”
I looked over at Zeb and again was struck by how wise he was. Most zombies are just foolish, mindless gluttons of villager flesh, but Zeb was as wise as the old villager who had given me the T-shirt, though, thankfully, less insane.
“How long have you been alive, Zeb?”
Zeb seemed surprised by the question, but rolled with it. “You mean, how long have I existed? Technically, I am undead.”
“You know what I mean. You seem so much wiser than other mobs I’ve talked to. You never seem to get unbalanced with anger or frustration or excitement. It’s a little spooky.”
Zeb smiled a kind smile. “When I was a newly-spawned zombie, many years ago, I would get angry a lot. I always made rash decisions. In fact, I was a lot like Otis.”
I laughed at the almost inconceivable thought of Zeb acting like Otis. “So, what changed?”
“Well, Zeke, one time I got into an argument with a friend of mine. It was a stupid argument. We were arguing over what tasted better, rotten cow flesh or rotten pig flesh. The
argument got so heated that we yelled at each other and wished the other dead.”
Zeb paused for a moment and looked down. I could tell this was a very sad memory for him. When he looked back up I noticed a tear in the corner of one of his rotten and decaying eyeballs.
He continued, “It was only a few hours later that my best friend was killed by a player who was defending his house. I never forgave myself for the fight that we had. The fact that he died thinking I hated him is a horrific notion. I vowed then and there never to let anger cloud my judgment or control my actions again.”
“That’s a sad story, Zeb. Thank you for telling me. I think I understand why you are the way you are now.”
Zeb and I sat next to each other in silence. Zeb, lost in the sad ocean of feeling engulfing him, while I thought about the unfairness of my life and Herobrine’s vendetta against me.
I looked around the training camp. Several endermen and pigmen were eating at the make-shift restaurant set up by the villagers. I saw others practicing their critical hits and defensive maneuvers.
All this for what? I thought. How many of these mobs will be dead soon? And, if we cannot stop Herobrine from destroying the world, they may never respawn.
I looked away from the military preparations and looked at the trees. Their beauty astonished me. So green and lush.
I wished that I could be a tree, growing slowly and peacefully without a care in the world. I would just stay in the same place for hundreds of years. Growing, producing fruit, and observing the world.
As I stared at one particularly majestic tree, I noticed a small brown dot near the horizon. It appeared to be moving. I kept my focus on the dot as it slowly got closer and closer and bigger and bigger.
Eventually, I was able to discern that the dot was actually a lone bat.
I tapped Zeb on his shoulder and pointed to the bat. “Check out that bat. Don’t they usually fly in packs or flocks or whatever?”
“Colonies,” said Zeb. “I believe the correct group term for bats is colonies.”