Minecraft Short Stories

A not pretty story

  So yeah, Storm wanted to hear my story, of how I became so incredibly humiliated by that white eyed bastard, and I must say I am most tempted to refuse.

Why I eventually agreed was not because Storm wanted me to, but rather, Blade threatened to hide my precious stash and never return them if I didn't do it.

  Of course, I can't risk that. So I chose the very bitter humiliation.

  And maybe I am glad for this chance. Maybe I am glad I finally get to take the spotlight and get some attention, but for Notch's sakes, I hate this stupid story. So much. Probably why I joined Israphel and am currently spending my miserable time in Notch's blasted Aether fortress.

  But the so called all knowing Notch doesn't need to know this little conversation between us, and I vow I shall be free once more, and when I do, my own humiliation will permanently vanish from my dictionary.

  So here we go.

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  Back when I was still a young and headstrong lad, I believed that I was near invincible. I might not have the strongest superpower, but my strength has always lain in my brain, the power of my mind.

  So you are tricky?

  Hmm, yeah. You could say that.

  Some people might disagree, included that white eyed brute. Because blunt force is all he has. But trickery and deception has always been the path to survival, I have known this from a very young age, and has been relying on this ever since. Probably didn't help that my brother died and became a spirit that possess people, either.

  Let's back up, shall we? I mean, now I am gotta tell my story, I might actually tell the entire story.

  So approximately three hundred and fifty years ago, a pair of twins were born in a poor village. And by the word poor, I meant really poor. It had been suffering from the terrors of war, both the twins' parents had perished. The father forced to fight in the army, and the mother died after giving birth to her two sons. It had taken a huge toll on her, and let's say, she wasn't in the best of conditions to begin with.

  Luckily for the twins, their crying attracted somebody from the neighbouring house, a widow who had lost her husband and only son in the war. She took pity on the two, and raised them as her own.

  And if you have guessed, yes, one of those babies was me. The other being my twin brother, Derp.

  I know you must have a billion questions, but do ask them after I have finished, I hate being interrupted, especially when I am in such a rare mood for story telling.

  So on with the story. The widow took care of Derp and I. And yes, I had a normal name once, given by the widow. A lifetime ago, I was known as Baron Lyroze.

  She was a caring parent, treating us as her own, raising us, never ceasing to make sure that we were warm and cozy in the middle of the coldest of nights during the unrelenting winter, and she went to work, earning what meagre salary to sustain the three of us. It had been an enormous burden for her, and she had never been rich to begin with, but to be honest, if she hadn't saved us that day, my brother and I would had perished, nameless, among so many others that passed away silently in the night in the village, unnoticed, and unknown.

  The years flew by, and in a blink of an eye, we were in our early teens. Our mother, as we had called her, aged more and more each day as we grew, so it wasn't a surprise that she fell ill.

  As I mentioned before, it was a poor village that we lived in. The level of technology was incredibly low, and most of the people were illiterate, so it wasn't a surprise that nobody knew what was wrong with her, and nobody could cure her.