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“If you were stranded on an island, what three items would you bring?”
“No, that’s not a stupid question, you’re stupid, you stupid tor–”
“No, no, I didn’t mean it. You’re not stupid. I’m— yeah, my question was stupid, you’re right.”
“What would I bring?” Tango looked at the tree next to him. He knew the next steps, but he really didn’t want to punch the tree down. The first pickaxe was always the worst, bloody knuckles from the tree, just to exert all leftover energy on stone below to make a half-decent axe and pick. “Well I’d, for one, bring a diamond axe. …and pick. And a sword.”
“I can’t bring all the tools?!” What stupid game was this, where all the tools couldn’t act as one item. “Fine, fine. Well, the axe still stays. I’d bring a diamond axe, mending on it, unbreaking, whole shebang. Then I could fight with it too. Not that I’d… I’m not super good with an axe, but. It would keep the zombies away, at least.”
This stupid swamp was stupid. And yes, he used two “stupids” in one sentence. What of it? It was stupid with extra dumb all on top of it. Stranded in a swamp?! Couldn’t it be an island, with exotic fruits and plenty of fish? All he had was salmon. Again, extra dumb and incredibly stupid.
“You know, I’d probably bring Skizz with me to the desert island. Impulse would probably feel bad for me not picking him… and Zed, but Skizz would get jumpy out here easily. Good entertainment.” It was lonely out here. “No– no, it’s not that you’re not enough, but I have other friends. I can have other friends, Torchy.”
The flame died out a bit.
“Be that way, then.” Tango set Torchy down into the grass, letting him be his typical sassy-pants. He was so annoying to deal with. Always upset about something, easily jealous, sarcastic at least 80% of the time, which was really challenging Tango’s levels of sarcasm.
But at least he had company on this stupid swamp island.
How was it that he spawned here of all places?
Whatever. He’d manage to escape this world eventually. Just took… a lot of materials. The right kind of portal. One of those odd shaped nether portals at the 0, 0 coordinates. Tango marked that location out first, before his comms device died out on him.
Lucky him couldn’t send a signal out, and he had low battery life. Now he had no signal and it was dead.
Fantastic, really.
Tango hissed as a block of wood popped into his inventory. His knuckles were cracked, already starting to bleed. They’d look eaten after he finished chopping the whole tree down.
What Tango wouldn’t give for some bandages. Even some wool. “Yeah, I’d like some wool. A sheep would be my third thing— it can come with sheers, right?”
Torchy agreed with him, for once.
“Yes! Thank you!” Tango dipped his hand in the water, rinsing off the blood. As he pulled it back out again, it started to sting. A light breeze blew past, cooling all of him that was sticky, but hurting the part of his hand that was all torn up.
At least he wouldn’t have to do all that again. He built a crafting table, then crafted a rudely put together pickaxe. Now… for the stone. Exciting work.
Tango picked up Torchy before beginning to dig in the dirt. With no shovel, he had to accept that it would be more work with his hands. He pushed through the stinging as he pulled at dirt until he reached the stone. Thank goodness, this should hurt his hand as much.
Except, it did wonders to his back, as he leaned in the most awkward position to dig away loose stone and dirt with the pick to widen the hole. After a few minutes of that he was finally hitting stone to where he was getting full blocks of it instead of little pebbles.
It was a while before he had all the stone he needed. Tango took the few dirt blocks he’d grabbed from earlier and used them to block back up to the surface. “That wasn’t too bad, was it Torchy?” he said, trying to make himself feel better. His hands still looked awful, now his back felt almost as awful, along with tension in his neck and shoulders. Wow. Fun times.
“Do you feel pain, Torchy?”
“What? No, I’m fine. I was just curious. No reason.”
“Lucky.”
Tango took the newly grabbed stone, using it on an axe, a pickaxe, and a shovel. “I’m going to grab some fish again. …fishing rod would be nice.”
“No, I’m not changing any of my choices!”
He jumped into the water, swimming after some more fish. At least he could punch them to death, as weird as it was. He now had an axe and if he was fast enough…
All the fish swam away before he could catch any of them.
Tango poked his head out of the water, gasping a breath, before diving into the murky swamp water again in hopes of catching something. When he grabbed a hold of one fish, its gills cut him before it slipped away. He gave up thirty minutes later, after killing one fish. At least he had something for dinner.
Of course, he had no way to cook it.
…other than making charcoal. Tango looked witheringly at the tree.
Two days later, Tango had a makeshift shelter of dirt. He barely came out unscathed. Monsters got him the first night before he gave up and hid underground. Night two, last night, he went ahead and lowered himself into a hole before it could get too late, and he busied himself with mining.
He was incredibly sore, but he was making progress. He even had a fishing rod from killing a spider, so the food issue had been resolved.
…what hadn’t been resolved was his hand.
It was looking… worse , if that was possible.
“No, it’s not infected,” he said lightly. Of course not. What could have…? “No, there’s nothing in the water.”
“Just because it’s swamp water doesn’t mean it’s dangerous! It might be a little dirty, sure, but it’s not that bad. I’m fine.”
His hand didn’t look fine, and that was the problem.
Could he even respawn in this world? It wasn’t worth testing if he didn’t know. He’d need potions to properly heal the wound. He didn’t have potions, which was a clear problem.
“Well, I guess a golden apple could work too. Not like I have any gold though.”
“Yeah. Witches. Might be worth looking for a witch hut.” He didn’t want this to cause permanent damage. Surely it wasn’t infected though. Surely it was fine. “It doesn’t hurt. …that much.”
He continued about his day like normal, pushing off any of Torchy’s concerned remarks. His hand looked progressively worse, but it didn’t feel worse. Maybe it was just slowly healing?
“We don’t have the time to worry about it. Lets just rest for the night, get the food situation handled, and then I’ll—” He touched it, which should be a dumb idea, but he could hardly feel anything. “No, it’s fine. It’s fine. All good.”
Torchy didn’t believe it for a minute.
“I– I can’t feel anything, but that’s good, right. Less to worry about. As long as I can move it still.” It was his dominant hand. What if it stopped working? What if he couldn’t build, couldn’t place redstone? What if he’d permanently ruined it?
“You know what, we’re looking for that witch hut. Maybe we can get one to drop a potion.”
Fortunately in his nighttime caving, Tango had collected a few bits of iron. He had a helmet and chestplate, along with a sword and all other tools. He should be fine. In theory.
He did his best to build a boat, though the motor function in his right hand was significantly deteriorating. Frustrating as he tried to tie everything together, and press planks into one another. After an embarrassing amount of time, he had a boat crafted and floating in the water. Hopefully it would keep him up.
“Don’t burn it, now, Torchy.”
It felt like a lost cause, boating around mindlessly, hoping to find what they were looking for. Then, in his peripherals.
“Bingo.”
He boated faster, even though his right hand, and now his fingers and forearm, were giving him grief. It was fine, though. Perfectly fine. He’d get this healing potion and all would go well.
He fought the witch, defeated the witch.
No potion.
“Should’ve waited until I saw him drinking it,” Tango muttered.
Well. He could just boat out and wait for another witch to respawn.
It took five tries before Tango managed to kill a witch and get a healing potion from it. In the meantime, Tango was hit with slowness. Fortunately it wasn’t poison. He’d be ok, even if he didn’t have the energy to move very far anymore.
“Come on Torchy, let’s get back to home base.” If Tango could find his way back, that is.
Great. He lost 0, 0. No comms, no map. He’d have to find the area again.
“No, we’ll get there first, then I’ll worry about…”
He tried to row. He couldn’t feel anything in his hand. It was swollen, there was bits of puss coming out of the open wound. All because he punched a tree? Really?
Tango ripped a part of his shirt off, only possible because his sword was sharp enough. He considered wetting it, before realizing… if the swamp water was the issue, then placing more swamp water on it wouldn’t help. He wiped away all that was on the wound, blood and pus and water, then poured the potion over it before wrapping it tightly with the shirt. He realized he might need a stick to keep it all in place though… he didn’t have… “Torchy, mind keeping everything together?”
There was a long pause. “Come on! We’re friends! I promise to re-light you once we get home!” Torchy had to consider it for a moment. “Thanks.” Tango blew out Torchy and stuck him in place, wrapping the shirt around the stick that was left.
It wasn’t much. But at least it might not be… as awful.
Even without his hand fully healed, Tango rowed home. Rowed to his temporary home, or where he thought it was.
Hopefully his hand — whole arm, really — would get better in a day or two. He really needed to set up a portal to get out of here.
“Yep. Definitely bringing an axe with me to the next swamp I get stranded on.”