Chapter Text
Cleo yawned, climbing out of her crypt and going out to the graveyard.
The Church Grimms waited in front of the chapel, curled up next to each other. Cleo grinned, grabbing a pair of metal bowls and some raw chicken and sticking it in front of them. The two immediately awoke, rushing to the dishes and devouring their breakfast.
"I've got breakfast," Etho called from a nearby tombstone, tossing Cleo a bloody brown package.
"Thanks," Cleo nodded, taking a moment to greet the other inhabitants of the graveyard and then going inside the chapel with her breakfast.
Ren was out working and Jevin was making plans for his shop in the Evil Empire with Xisuma, so Cleo wouldn't have many distractions. It looked like it would rain soon, anyway, so she couldn't go out and stock up like normal. Cleo unwrapped the meat and bit into it.
Turtle meat wasn't her favourite, but Joe would get after her if she ate his villagers, so she stuck to the next best. The weather wasn't good enough for hunting or projects, so today would be an indoor day. The ghosts would probably disperse so they weren't burnt by the rain, and the banshees would nap through the storm. That just left the Grimms and other creatures who would probably hide out inside of the chapel. She could go to the castle and make some HIVE-DR8 restock, but she had run out of red dye...
Cleo huffed, taking another bite of her breakfast. If it was going to be a slow day, Cleo would nap and wait for the storm to end. Cleo lit a campfire in the center of the chapel to keep the Grimms or Ren warm if they decided to come inside and climbed back into the crypt.
Hauling a fluffy blanket over herself and muting her comm, she fell asleep.
It wasn't long before she was woken up by whimpering.
A Grimm had hopped up onto the crypt, pawing at her and trying to get her to move.
"Jeez, are you hungry? Did I sleep through lunch?" Cleo rubbed her eyes, carefully climbing out of the crypt.
She paused when a variety of creatures peered back at her, some staring at the door in distaste and anger.
"What's going on?" Cleo asked.
A man without eyes and legs answered her with a rasping wail, and Cleo narrowed her eyes, "What in god's name is a prail doing here?"
"There's more than just one," a creature with the skull of a tiger for a face and a cloak made out of bloody blackbird feathers said, "There's five outside of the door."
Cleo's face darkened, "Does X know?"
"We're certain he does, lass," a ghostly Irishman huffed, "Dealin' with a couple 'o others back down at the empire."
The skull-faced creature nodded, "We wanted to get your input before we did anything."
Cleo looked at the door and bared her teeth.
Goddamn hunter bastards. Murderers. Trophy hunters.
Cleo grabbed her netherite axe off of the chapel wall, slinging it over her shoulder and turning to the group.
Many creatures howled in laughter, showing off their own sharpened teeth and claws. The skull-faced creature's cloak burst into green flame, and it took a spear from underneath its cloak. The Irishman smashed a beer bottle on the pew, holding up the shards with a grin. The church Grimms howled, growing in size until they were nearly as tall as Cleo.
The chapel bellowed, and the doors flung themselves open.
Cleo huffed, and turned to the chapel specteres.
"Kill 'em."
"'What kind of pinball machine?' Uhh, Willy Wonka Collectors...something by Pinball Jack, I think?" Joe shrugged, "I'd have to look it up."
Chat hummed, asking various follow-up questions as Joe worked on building the interior of the castle.
One of the spirits shrieked at Joe in panic, handing him a tiny piece of folded-up paper and a coin with Twitch Prime's sigil on it.
"Oh, uh, thanks for the bits, Manaluna93...'There's hunters outside'--y'all sure?" Joe paused, putting down his materials and looking out the window.
Sure enough, a group of prails were walking up the driveway towards the castle. One rode on a ravager with a bloody broadsword in hand. They seemed annoyed as rain began to drizzle, huffing and cursing amongst themselves.
"Well how about it," Joe hummed, "That's probably what all the messages on my comm are about. I was wondering why it was buzzing so much."
There was a knock on the castle door, and Joe opened the great spruce door a crack.
Several agitated prails stood in front of him, each with a weapon pointed in his face.
Joe batted a particularly close blade away from his face, "Well howdy gentlemen, gentlewomen, and other such gentlefolk. Somethin' I can do for 'ya?"
"Let us in," One of the prails demanded, trying to push past Joe and failing.
"Why?" Joe tilted his head in faux innocence, "It's not very nice in here, right now, since I'm still working on the interior--"
"They said," A prail without a head growled, "Let us in."
Joe shrugged, "Well alright, but don't criticize my interior."
The prails pushed the door open and Joe smiled to himself. They threw their wet scarves and gloves on the ground, keeping their weapons trained on Joe and watching him like hawks.
Joe closed the door behind them, dusting off his hands, "Well, since y'all are here, I could use a bit of help with the interior."
A prail rolled their eyes, "We ain't helpin' 'ya with shit."
Joe grinned, tilting his head, "Then I don't have any reason to keep you here. If you aren't going to help, then it ain't a win for anybody."
The prails laughed, and the headless one pointed a crossbow at him, "We don't need to help, kid. You're going to let us stay unless you wanna get spawn-locked."
Joe huffed, frowning, "Well that's just rude."
A prail rolled their eyes, "Rude, eh? Y'all hearin' this?"
The prails snickered, showing off their weapons in an attempt to intimidate Joe. Joe didn't pay them much mind, instead pulling a copper coin from his pocket.
"Coin flip. Heads means you stay, tails means you leave," Joe said, flipping the coin.
He smacked the coin on the back of his hand, "Heads! You leave."
The prails moved to try and attack him, clearly done with Joe's nonsense, but he was already gone.
A steel ball collided with a prail's back, cracking his ribs in half and leaving a bloody indent. The man disappeared in a puff of smoke as his items spilled onto the floor.
The ball changed trajectory and flew back into Joe's hand. He stood behind them with a slight smile as chat began chanting for blood.
"Pinball it is, then."
xB really didn't like fishing.
It was a boring task that usually didn't produce much more than a couple of cod and sticks. Alas, it was one of the better ways of getting enchanted books. Hypno lay beside him on the beach, running his hands through Bishop's fur.
"What do you think?"
xB raised an eyebrow, turning slightly to Hypno, "What do you mean?"
"I'm a Poppet, you're a guardian-hybrid, Ren's a dog hybrid...We've got a lot of hybrids on the server," Hypno hummed, "Or really just magical things in general. I know there are a lot more servers nowadays that are magic-based, but we have a lot."
"It wasn't like this when you joined?" xB asked as he reeled in a cod.
"Nope," Hypno popped the 'p' for emphasis, "Most of the server was human, excluding myself, X, and a few others."
xB shrugged, "I guess I don't really know the feeling. I've been to so many modlands and big servers that I'm kinda...what's the word? You don't feel it anymore because you've been through it so much?"
"Desensitized?"
"Yeah, that's it."
Hypno raised an eyebrow, "You've been out on modlands?"
"Well, yeah, haven't you?"
Hypno huffed, stroking Bishop's fur, "I can hardly go to the Nether let alone modlands. Poppets are flammable, remember?"
"Ohh, I gotcha," xB recast his line, "We should have False or somebody make you a fire-resistance sigil."
"False?" Hypno sat up, "Why would False know how to make a sigil?"
xB shut his mouth firmly, internally beating himself up over spilling too much.
"No reason," xB replied, a little too fast to be believable, "Ignore what I said."
"xB--"
xB shot him a look, pulling his fishing rod out of the water with more force than he needed to, "Drop it, Hypno."
Hypno held his hands up in a placating gesture, "Alright, alright, I won't ask. I can respect a secret."
xB hardly believed him, especially by the plotting glint in his eyes, but instead turned his attention to his comm which was buzzing incessantly.
Prails.
xB stopped breathing for a moment.
"xB? xB come back to me, dude."
xB grit his teeth, "Prails got in. Evil X is panicking."
"OH--I'll get on, he can come here if he needs," Hypno said, opening up his own comm.
Evil X arrived not long after, and looked like they had just witnessed a murder.
Hypno did his best to calm them down, and xB stood guard at the portal with anxiety eating a hole in his stomach.
The portal shimmered and warped.
And then there were seven prails.
xB immediately panicked, causing the ground to become muddy and wet underneath the prails. Blackstone melted into cobblestone, ice turned to water, and lava hardened into obsidian. xB moved his hand and the force of the sea slammed into the prails, shoving them back through the portal and destroying it behind them.
xB fell to the ground, arms wrapped around himself as pain shot through his veins.
"XB!" Hypno shouted, and xB faintly recognized something warm kneeling close by.
Giving himself and False away in a single day?
Wow, he was stupid.
TFC hurried backward, trying to get out of range of the dragon's breath.
Keralis and the creature were trying to handle the rest of the prails and keep them away from the dragon fight. Scar and Grian fared no better in their attempts to restrain the dragon and knock Hector off of it.
Xisuma and Dinnerbone were working with admin panels, trying to figure out how to kill the thing.
Docm77: okay I have a really bad idea
Xisumavoid: We'll take whatever we can get right now
Docm77: /kill @e[type=minecraft:ender_dragon]
Dinnerbone: damn when you said bad idea you weren't kidding
Docm77: I know messing with admin stuff like that can go really wrong really fast
Docm77: But unless you wanna spend the next seven hours killing the ender dragon AND chasing the prails off
Docm77: It's our best option
Dinnerbone: then either x or joe is gonna have to do it
Dinnerbone: i dont have admin perms and I suck with death magic
Xisumavoid: Joe and I aren't great with it ourselves, and I cant get ahold of Joe
Xisumavoid: I do know someone that can help
ZedaphPlays: I heard death magic?
rendog: :) I got u
ZedaphPlays: Zedeath says he'll be down in five
rendog: i'm pretty sure grimdog is dead at this point
rendog: or maybe renbob will know where to find him hold on
Dinnerbone: how in gods name do you keep track of all your alter egos?
Docm77: He doesnt
Zedeath wasn't happy about being in Zedaph's body again, but the situation was dire.
Zedeath slunk along the edges of existence, eventually making his way to the fight where TFC had the dragon's tail in his mouth.
"Sorry to call you on such short notice," Xisuma said, coming to stand beside him.
"No reason to be sorry," Zedeath shrugged, "I was bored anyway."
Dinnerbone teleported next to them, "I got the command, but you're going to have to do the death magic wizardry to get it working."
"I'll give you admin permissions," Xisuma said, pulling up several consoles and messing with their settings.
Zedeath hummed, "I can take the prails as well."
Xisuma shook his head, "I don't want to deal with murder cleanup. I can do a mass teleport with Dinnerbone's help, but the dragon is trickier."
Zedeath shrugged, "Suit yourself."
Zedeath breathed and death breathed along with him. He should really get Zedaph some death magic one of these days. He'd make for a good reaper, honestly.
Nonetheless, Zedeath pulled his scythe from death's fields and gave the command.
The dragon twisted and turned in Hector's grasp, bucking him off as its soul gave out. The dragon's body lost its luster, turning into dust and shiny orbs of experience. There was the familiar jingle that signified the Ender Dragon had been defeated.
Xisuma and Dinnerbone immediately got to work teleporting the prails elsewhere in the universe. TFC trotted back to them, flopping on the ground. His fur was stained and matted with blood, and there was a deep gash in his side.
Scar wheeled himself over to TFC, placing his hands on the wound and chanting softly. TFC thanked Scar as the wound began to heal and the blood melted from his fur. Grian hesitantly walked over to Zedeath.
"The Watcher of the Solar Hearth greets you warmly," He said in the old Galactic tongue of the Watchers.
Zedeath grinned, speaking in death's raspy language, "Lady Kristin's Reaper of Pride returns the gesture to the Sun Watcher."
Grian looked surprised, "So you're Zedeath?"
Zedeath nodded, "Yep. I'm currently possessing my counterpart, as I don't have a body of my own. Most reapers don't."
"Oh," Grian said, "Wait--does that mean--?"
"I'm considering it, yes," Zedeath chuckled, "But I'd prefer to ask him first, as well as have that information be kept secret if it is to occur."
Xisuma nodded beside him, having finished with the prails, "Unless he wants to disclose it, we'll keep it secret."
Zedeath hummed, "Should I greet you, too? Grian did it and now I'm all mixed up with the formalities."
Xisuma laughed, "If you want to."
TFC lumbered over to the group with Scar by his side, "If we're all doing introductions, I should probably be the first."
"I knew you were from Norse Mythology!" Grian exclaimed, "Fenrir, right?"
TFC laughed, "Yes, I am."
Xisuma raised an eyebrow at Grian, "When did you figure it out?"
"He leaves fur everywhere and drinks a lot of vodka," Grian grinned.
TFC chuckled, "Fair enough. What language are we doing introductions in?"
Zedeath huffed, "It was a joke, TFC."
"English, alright--"
"I'm going to eat your soul."