Minecraft Short Stories

Azrael the Kitchen Boy(Read: Hell of a disaster)

"There's this crazy guy over there, with the swords and black wings and stuff-"

  "Woah, calm down," Herobrine said to one of his pigmen, then frowned,"Wait, that guy is a demented raven?"

  "Can't see too clearly,"the pigman panted," We were just patrolling the southern borders, and that thing just swooped out of nowhere."

  "Let me get this straight," Herobrine said," So a demented pigeon with swords attacked you and the rest of the patrol, then abducted several of them?"

  "Lord Herobrine, it is not a pigeon with swords, pigeons can't hold swords."

  "Not even with their beaks? This is a demented pigeon we are talking about!"

  "Lord Herobrine…"

  "I am just messing with you," Herobrine chuckled," I am going out."

  "For what?" The pigman asked.

  "To have a chat."

  "With who, you wife's ghost?"

  Herobrine's sharp stare nearly cleaved the pigmen into half.

  "Sorry, my lord. I mispoke. But with who?"

  "A certain demented chicken. No one abducts my soldiers without my approval."

  "My lord, it is not a chic-"

  The pigman sighed as Herobrine took off before he could finish his sentence,"Figures."

  Herobrine shot into the Nether sky, the ghasts greeting him with moans and sniffling. To anyone else, they might sound rude, but Herobrine knew that it was possibly the only way of communication for those guys.

  "Everything good up here?" He called.

  The ghasts' voices made the answer seemed sarcastic, or inaudiable.

  "Cool, see ya!"

  He flew off.

  He most definitely could had teleported, but he didn't want to miss anything. Besides, he didn't want to teleport straight into a trap.

  He flew around floating mountains of netherack and lava falls, occasionally peeking around them to spot anything weird. Seeing nothing, he flew on.

  The southern Nether wasn't the best part of the fiery dimension.

  It was dark, and had loads of floating Netherrack mountains for anything capable of flight to hide. And since it was the edge of the Great Lava Sea, it got less illumination. Also, there was a large concentration of soul sand since it was near the floating island of the doomed souls.

  The figure watched, as the small blue spot flew into his territory, and he had to admit, he was curious about him.

  He had managed to wrangle some interesting information out of the pigmen he captured earlier. He was in the Southern Nether, and the guy in charge was called Herobrine, a bloke with glowing white eyes. Hmm, interesting.

  He was only a few days old, but all he remembered was first emerging from the soul sand, feeling completely and utterly confused.

  "Rise, Azrael," a voice whispered in his ears," the Angel of Death."

  "Huh?" Azrael croaked.

  But nobody had ever answered.

  Since then, he had been doing his thing, flying around, plunging swords into random mobs in the Nether to leach their life force from them to feed his.