Herobrine's Heir

Epilogue

“WHAT?!?!” roared the robed figure as he jerked himself off of his excessively blingy gold throne. Everything had been perfectly and meticulously planned. The army was the perfect size and was in the perfect position. The timing was perfect since Steve’s Heir had just arrived at Hanson, the first on a long list of villages to be conquered. The arrival time of the army was to be just so. What had happened? Everything was PERFECT!
The husk dumbly standing before him in the huge, long torchlit throne room filled with the shadows galore was trembling with fear, and the worst part was it wasn’t fear of him. Being undead, it took the zombie a very long time to form a thought complete enough to put into words, but what he had said so far was impossible. His minions never lied though.
“Army…raaaah…gone…raaaah…” It repeated. It had been trembling when it entered and seemed very spooked by whatever it saw.
“HOW?!?!” the mysterious figure bellowed.
After a few minutes of unintelligible moaning, the zombie spoke again, “BOOM…raaaah…girl…raaaah…bad…raaaah…eyes…raaaah…”
“KILL IT!” The figure raged at the two Withers positioned on either side of the throne. They silently swept forward and finished the husk off with an explosive BOOM! The husk didn’t make sense, and it angered him. He began pacing. It had said boom with special emphasis, which probably meant some sort of explosion. But what could girl bad eyes mean? What could a girl have done to his massive army? What could it have meant by bad eyes? Was the girl it spoke of blind? Nothing made sense. “XERUS!”
A moment later, a scared and scarred male illager ran into the room and bowed before the figure. He laid down his crossbow and enchanted diamond battle axes at the base of the dais on which the throne sat. His black robe hemmed with gold pooled around him as knelt with his face on the floor. If he made one wrong move, he would be killed. It was usually bad, but it got much, much worse when his master was angry. This particular illager never groveled before anyone, except his master that is. He was fierce and bold but turned into nothing more than a sniveling coward in the figure’s presence.
“How may I serve you, exalted master?” Xerus pled.
“I WANT ANSWERS! GO TO HANSON AND FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO MY ARMY, THEN BURNED THE VILLAGE TO THE GROUND!” The figure’s deep, enraged voice boomed and echoed, giving it a haunted quality.
“As you wish, master,” Xerus replied, snatched up his weapons, then rushed out of the room as though a hoard of creepers were chasing him.
“I will find out who did this,” muttered the figure, “and they will pay!”

Note from the author...

I wrote this a very long time ago and am no longer motivated to continue the plot line. You can continue or use it if you want, but just know that this series if officially discontinued.

Sorry