Oneshots! (Mostly Hermitcraft)

Spring Prompt Challenge: April 3 - Meadow [Tango]

The long grass waved in the wind, Yellow wildflowers brushed the grass stalks, creating a rasping sound, not unlike sandpaper rubbed on an already smooth surface. The blue sky had a sparing amount of clouds in it. The fluffy white pillows of air sluggishly moved across the sky, blown by some high-up wind.

Tango scanned the tall waving grass. It all looked so peaceful, so calm. He could run about, arms spread wide like his wings, and enjoy the rushing air on his face, before flying as high as he dared. But he couldn't. Somewhere out there, in that grass, in that perfect little meadow, was a Watcher.

Or two.

Tango hissed and drew the gold sword from his inventory, red wings flared. He cocked his head, listening for abnormal sounds. He didn't travel to the Overworld frequently, but some sounds typically filled the world, right? Or maybe everything was just dead silent as it was now. A petrified silence, silent as a forest of stone.

Tentatively, Tango took a step. The Nether portal was temptingly close on top of a hill a couple of hundred blocks straight ahead. Aside from the small ups and downs, Tango knew it was a straight run. But there were the Watchers. Almost certainly watching, waiting, for the right chance to pounce. To kill. He may never come back if that happened.

A second step. Tango held his breath, ears strained for any sign of activity. Dead silence. A third, still nothing. He ruffled his wings, extending them a little bit. Too risky. He retracted them. The portal was so tantalizingly close. He could fly there in three flaps of his scaley wings. The wings unfurled again. Tango launched into the air, driving his wingbeats, racing to the portal. Three hundred blocks. Two hundred. One. Fifty.

The Watcher burst out of the grass, thrusting upward with its sword. Obsidian sword. It rippled with a hellish shine, clearly displaying the permanent death enchantment. Tango swerved, barely dodging the blade. He tumbled into the waist-high grass, using his momentum to roll to his feet.

Tango assessed the situation. The Watcher stood between him and the portal.  They were both able to fly, making evasive maneuvers pointless. Based on the sword the Watcher possessed, it was probably well versed in wielding it. He could summon fire, but the Watcher also had its magic. He was stuck.

The Watcher seemed to know this as it released a bone-chilling chuckle. It pointed at Tango with the tip of its sword. "You're the one we want. You're nothing but a filthy hybrid, who must be cleansed." It advanced calculatingly.

Tango studied the way it moved, how its arms swung, how it twirled the blade with ease. He took a deep breath, settling into his rhythm. The Watcher launched forward, purple magic blazing in an arc toward Tango's head. He deflected it, dodging the ringing obsidian blade in the same motion.

The metals whirled in intricate arcs, swinging, feinting, meeting. Their swords clashed together, hilts locking and sparks flying. Both pressed against the other, trying to gain ground. The Watcher changed direction, shifting their opposing forces to the side and throwing Tango off balance. It spun around, bringing its elbow into the back of Tango's head. The ender dragon-lava man hybrid slumped unconscious.

The Watcher bent over its target, securing his wrists and pinning his wings to his body. Finished, it redirected the Nether portal, turning the border into bedrock. The navy blue swirls filled the middle as the Watcher dragged its victim into the portal. The only sign of there ever being entities there was the flattened grass.

And the broken gold sword laying to deteriorate at the mercy of the elements.

The portal popped out of existence, leaving only the dead grass.

[This time skip was brought to you as a courtesy from the No Filler Fan Club]

Tango couldn't tell when he opened his eyes. The pitch-black room had no light sources, the only sensations being the unsettling quiet, slightly dank smell, and the cold, hard tiles he lay on. That and the feeling of his hands bound together and his wings and arms pinned to his sides. He strained against his bonds, but they refused to budge. If anything, they got tighter.