So I had some free time, I took it upon myself too write a little short story, one of my many interpretations of how Noobscraft, Noobstown and Foob and Co' came too be, have a little read, you might enjoy it.
I'd love some feedback or anything really!
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Have you ever wondered how Noobscraft, and the great “nation” of Noobstown came to be? Well my lucky adventurers, today is your lucky day, I am about to take you where no man, woman, nor beast has ever been before, too a land which until today has been shrouded in mystery.
It was a crisp winters morn, about dusk, you could tell because the sky had a warm orange glow about it, and even though it was the peak of the winter it wasn’t as cold as it usually was, gloves weren’t needed, and neither was a scarf. The last time it was this warm was the ever so devilish Winter Solstice during The Great War which took place upon the vast wilds of Minecraftia which were once luscious and abundant with wildlife and agriculture. This was short lived once the over-zealous armies of the North marched southwards towards the Southern Kingdoms in hopes too glorify there once noble ruler who was now considered a spawn of Satan himself.
One story says he was once the Southern Kingdoms kings’ right hand man, that he was first on the list the king would go too, even before his queen, for political issues. Others say he was but a mere Jester too the king himself before deserting into the Wilds. The most popular fairytale of them all however is the one in which it is decorated as the hero of all Minecrafia, the one who slain the once powerful Ender-Dragon. This, of course, was before it vanished into the wilderness. Now? It is known only as Herobrine (Hero-Brine). Ghostly White eyes with an almost translucent pupil, tatty ragged clothes that hang from what can only be described as an amalgamation of skin and scales, horrific barnacles that have encroached upon on it’s shoulders like a trophy from a past experience, fingernails, that resemble daggers that can cut raw flesh, but most terrifying of all, silence. Not a moan, groan, whine or whimper has ever escaped this monstrosities mouth.
The war between the Northern and Southern Kingdoms raged on for months and as each day passed so did more lives. As the death toll grew higher so did Herobrines ego and territory. Every day the sky grew a brighter colour of red as the blood of the innocent in the latest ravaged village ran. Hours turned into days , days into weeks, weeks into months, Herobrines army grew stronger by the day, the forces of the Southern Kingdom were dwindling, the war was nearly over, the kingdom that was once the central too the vast majority of the world’s finances was almost at a crumble as the great army encroached.
There was one last hope however, a faint light on the horizon, an ancient, almost forgotten prophecy that was told many many eons ago about one man who could change the tide of battle, and so on this day, unbeknown by all, this almost forgotten prophecy will come into play. This day, the final showdown of good and evil will clash, but only one was destined to prevail. This is the day in which the needs of the few do in fact overweigh the needs of the many.
A hermit for the majority of his life, this lone Blacksmith looked like every other Blacksmith in the land, shaggy black hair with a short, not very well groomed, yet modest black heard. A charred brown leather apron with a pocket in the front for his tongs and tool alike with relatively simple clothing underneath, a plain shirt, originally white, but now stained with the smoke from the workshop. Leather leggings and a very sturdy pair of boots made from what looks like hide reinforced with steel and wool. The shop, also like any regular Blacksmith, tongs, prongs, hammers, crucibles, various steel plates and bars, hides and other unrecognisable materials. This workshop was however special, this Blacksmith had a hammer crafted from the finest material of all the land, passed down from father to son; A hybrid of Diamond and Obsidian only known as Diamidium.
Months before the arrival of the Northern Armies he went on a search for more of this new found unbreakable material in hope too gather some before the impending doom of his small vulnerable village. After a long and gruelling quest to obtain more of this he came across one single vein, there was a problem; He was but a 4 day walk away from his town. He enlisted the help of a traveller that happened to be passing at the time, the deal was he would help bring back the newly mined Diamidium for a price, a week of hot meals and a roof over his head. The Blacksmith pondered for a moment and realised with his ever so booming business now with the war going on a week to feed a lonely traveller was nothing. He accepted and eager to get going they set off back home only to get back ahead of schedule. The minute he got back he fed the traveller as promised and got straight too work over the next period of what seemed about a month. He began slowly and with his Diamidium Hammer he crafted the perfect broadsword, forged from the Diamidium and plunged into fire and ice multiple times, he managed too tempter and sharpen the weapon multiple times in the first day, alas the prophecy foretold.
Not long after he crafted said sword two men approached the Blacksmith, they were soldiers, but they didn’t seem like normal soldiers, they wore the colours of the Royal Seal. The Blacksmith, with some persuasion from the soldiers ushered them into his home, they explained to him that they were the last remaining survivors of an ambush, an ambush that Herobrine himself saw too, it was on the kings guard whilst they were on road to the frontlines too address strategies. All but these two guards died, luckily for them the king never accompanies the first carriage, he was too take an alternate route on that day and successfully get too his destination.
Now sure of an imminent attack on his little village the Blacksmith got too work immediately the next day on a set of armour for himself created from this Diamidium. He slaved for days, on this armour until it was finished and in pristine condition. Somewhat lacking in prowess and looks it was too become the finest set of armour in the land. He had forged all he needed, a sword, a suit of armour and even managed too sting a bow and a dozen arrows out of the material. He was at a dilemma; He had still got enough Diamidium to create more. Would he sell it or hold onto it? The Blacksmith remembered the traveller and the two soldiers, they were all staying in the village now because it was the last of its kind that had yet to be pillaged and burned to the ground.
The Blacksmith decided to create three more chest plates, one for each of the men, he only had enough for two however so too even out the material he had to mix it with some of his finest steel. Now with three more chest plates of slightly lower quality but still far superior to any armour they currently had he handed each of them a chest plate and one of the two soldiers the bow and arrows.
The next few days they spent fitting and wearing in the armour only to be caught short handed by the Northern Armies storming over the hills in the horizon. The warning bell rang, the beacons were lit and the defences in place, all they had left to do was suite up and kill as many of Herobrines minions as possible before they got over-run and inevitably removed from this world. The towns’ folk fought valiantly for what seemed like weeks but was only a matter of a few days, they were eventually all killed. All but four. The Blacksmith, the traveller and the two soldiers. Thanks to this new found material they were almost impenetrable in the torso area. Unfeasibly at a disadvantage they were certain they would at one point get over-run, this being the case they fought on and on for a week, back too back now atop a mound of bodies, they had the ground advantage to the brainless minions below who just kept on coming, they matched one another blow for blow and eventually it appeared, Herobrine. The spawn of Satan himself. They were all now 100% sure they were doomed.
Herobrine called a retreat.
They were in shock for a second but realised if the impending forces of evil were too successfully retreat too safety they would only regroup and attack again. The four remaining all knew this and almost gave up when The Blacksmith noticed something, one of the arrows that pierced one of the vile creatures had stayed intact with the feather still attached. He leant over and grabbed the Diamidium arrow, then the bow from the soldier. With an unsteady platform of bodies too stand on he had the height advantage and scoped out Herobrine. He drew back the string too his cheek and brought the bow up, took aim and let go. You could hear the arrow as it soared through the air, you could even see the wind move around it, on a direct course for uncertain death it pierced Herobrines skin and kept going, it was the perfect shot, through the back of his shoulder blade straight to the heart, the arrow then fragmented inside him and bounced about almost immediately killing this evil monstrosity. The minions of this cursed evil fragmented into millions of particles which blew away in the wind, never to be seen again.
The war was finally over, after months of campaigning.
The four remaining survivors of the village gave an almighty roar and raised their weapons high into the sky too claim victory over what seemed an impossible battle. With no time too spare however they took rest for a few then began too pile the bodies of the townsfolk in orderly lines as too bury them in their rightful place. They were all given individual burials before the four set off in search of more survivors too repopulate the lands. After weeks of yomping town too town in search for survivors they came across the king, laying in a pool of his own, they realised there was now nobody too take charge of the kingdom.
Now only roughly 150 strong, the remaining survivors of the land had all heard of the Blacksmiths great tale of how he went to slay the once powerful Herobrine. They came upon an agreement that he would be crowned the new King, and along with the traveller who had now turned into a fierce warrior and the two other soldiers would create the beginnings of a new era. Noobstown. The Blacksmith? Who is he you may be wondering? Nobody truly knows who or where he came from apart from the three other survivors of that town but he is now known as Foob, almighty ruler and a King of the nation and kingdom. The two soldiers were in fact friends since birth and were known as Longcat and Waterworth. What about the Traveller you ask? He is known only as Lawrence and too this day not a lot is known about any of them.
Over the period of the next few years they kept getting people coming too them from across the kingdom for sanctuary, they granted it of course and they also selected a few other people to assist them in the running of the kingdom, ten too be precise, making a total of fourteen members making up the newly formed Royal Court. The kingdom, after a slow and sluggish crawl back to life started to thrive, the land fertile from the ashes of the Northern Army and the population rising almost daily, Noobstown was too become the capital of what is now known as the thriving capital of all Minecraftia, ran by the four most equipped, originally mere townsfolk.
Thank you for reading, if you read it all!
The Rise Of Foob And Co' (Read 2339 times)