The Edge of MINECRAFT (Being the Second Volume of the Minecraft Trilogy)

Strange Bedfellows

Strange times called for strange measures. Israphel reflected upon his modified adage with grim humor. Because they were trying to get as much backing for their army as possible, Israphel and the little group of monster leaders had been on a recruitment drive. They had been meeting with weirdos from all corners of Minecraft. The three figures in front of him right now we're a little more than weirdos, though.

The first was an ancient, dwarfish zombie. What little hair he had had gone grey, and of all things, he wore a pair of spectacles! Israphel felt an air of curiosity around this oddity, and he even detected a little creeper blood in him.

The second figure was covered head to toe in a black cloak. It stared down at the ground, preventing anyone from seeing what was behind the cowl. Though Israphel had just met it, he had a bad feeling about that one.

The third was a villager female, actually quite attractive for that species. Before even looking at her potion belt, Israphel knew she was a witch. Her purple robes and black spiked cape gave her a slightly sinister feel.

The building matched the strange character of its owners. Though it could have once been a house, it was now just a run down shack. The walls were covered with strange graffiti phrases such as Herobrine Lives and The White Eyes are Watching.

"So, our Lord Herobrine is building an army?" the witch inquired.

"Yes," rumbled Five. "Soon, our war machine will cause all of Minecraft to quake with terror."

"I see no army," the second said, his voice between a whisper and a rasp. Israphel mentally assigned them names: Old, Dark, and Pretty.

"We are still disspersed," the white creeper explained, jumping in. "We will only assemble when our Lord commandsss."

"What is it you require?" Pretty asked.

"We just need a pledge that your," Israphel looked around the room, searching for the word, "club will come to our aid when needed. Also, we need a handful of your men to accompany uss on our journey."

"What stock do you have in this, Israphel?" Old asked. "You are a businessman, not a warrior."

"Exactly," Israphel smiled, his grey lips cracking open to reveal yellowed teeth. "I'm a businesssman, and in my businessss we make gambles. Right now, I'm gambling on the successs of this army."

"Still, I sense a greater importance in you," the withered zombie persisted.

"Just the musings of an old soothsssayer," the creeper dismissed. "Now, do we have a deal, or what?"

The three figures turned to look at each other. After what seemed be a silent discussion, all three turned back to the monsters.

"We accept," Pretty smiled. "We will do whatever you ask, as long as it benefits Herobrine."

"Great," Five said. "Now, we must go-"

"Stay, stay!" Pretty cried. "We must celebrate this alliance."

"We've celebrated enough alliances to freeze the Nether over," Five groaned.

"We would be honored," Israphel corrected. "We will sstay for the night." Everyone seemed to like that solution, though Five seemed a bit put out. Israphel would deal with him later. With that unanimous dismissal, everyone exited.

Israphel was one of the last to hobble out. Suddenly, his wooden prosthesis swing upright, and he pinned the old zombie seer against the wall. The aged creature attempted to cry out, but Israphel pressed harder.

"You are right," he whispered to his captive audience. "Other thingss are afoot. Events have been set in motion, and you musst be ready."

"What must we do?" he asked, his voice equally quiet, as not to arouse the others.

"Herobrine has told me that we are being followed," Israphel elaborated. "A band of villager huntersss. They will most likely come through here. They musst not be allowed to leave, unless it's in bagsss." The seer nodded.

"I will let our other leaders know," he said. "We will deal with them." Israphel nodded, satisfied. The two left the building as though the conversation had never happened.

~~~

Israphel had forgotten that cults knew how to throw a party. A lot of, well, evil groups weren't that big on parties. Sure, any lackey or henchman had that primal urge to be wild, but when the leaders were doing business, everything stayed business. Any celebrations were either bland or a trap. But cultists were different, and the worse they were, the better the party.

Israphel munched on some beef and sat over a large pit, where interesting fights were being held. His radar spiked as he felt General Five approach. The creeper rose to face his colleague.

"General," he acknowledged respectfully. Five did not share his enthusiasm.

"I don't know what you're playing at," he began, "but you need to stop fooling around at my meetings. While you are an ally, you have no place making our decisions for us."

"Calm down, Five," Israphel soothed. "Watch the fight. Have sssome of the ssacrificial bull, which iss delicious, by the way."

"I am only the fifth monster ever to reach this position! I am qualified to lead this army. I don't know who you think you are-"

"Only an extremely powerful and influential playboy creeper businessman extraordinaire worth a million diamonds and a personal friend of Herobrine."

Five grabbed the collar of Israphel's coat. "See!" he bellowed. "This loud mouth of yours, old man, is going to get us in trouble. Unlike you, I care about what goes on here. Stay out of our affairs, and don't think that your good standing with Herobrine in the past makes you invincible." The general stalked off.

"Someone's in a bad mood," Deadbones creaked behind him. Israphel had not realized the skeleton commander had been listening in.

"Zombiess are temperamental," Israphel sighed. "When he's not smashing or grabbing, he gets antsy."

"Sides are being taken," the skeleton cautioned. "Beware, Israphel! Many do not think you should have such a high position in this situation. Some do not even believe that your messages are coming from Herobrine."

Israphel nodded. "I know that most zombiessss think themselvess superior, so I can ssee that opposssition."

"There are some skeletons that believe this, too," Deadbones explained. "Many monsters already under Herobrine's command would rally with Five, should he decide to take control. However, many of the men who personally served under me will stand with me, and I stand with you."

"You ssspeak of Five taking control," Israphel pointed out. "I wass not sure if rebellion wasss a possibility yet, but I do know that the creepers will side with me. Any creeper would fight for one of usss to have a legitimate seat in monssster politicss."

"Just know," Deadbones whispered, "we can be powerful allies." And then, he melted back into the chaos.

Israphel sunk back into his seat, watching the fight. What have you gotten me into, Herobrine? he wondered. Already, what little peace these monsters had was in jeopardy, and they weren't even close to reaching their supposed northern allies. Though he was tempted, he doubted that letting the others know they were being followed would go over very well. Some would fight to stand ground while other would urge a move forward.

Personally, the creeper businessman wanted to meet these hunters, especially after having dealt with some of them once. He had a craving for revenge, but his rational side warned him that a battled now would be disastrous.

So he would allow Five to lead, ignorant and temporarily. Israphel smiled at his conclusion. Yes, that would be the most profitable situation, and his brain always sought out those scenarios. They would carry out this recruitment drive and get to the north. Meanwhile, Israphel would sit by and wait as larger things unfolded.

A roar went up in the crowd as one gladiator killed another. Power play, Israphel thought. Nothing else like it.