Chapter Text
[ FARLANDS ]
{VIEWING ASHSWAGG}
Ashswagg was having a great afternoon. No, scratch that; Ashswagg was having a wonderful afternoon.
Ever since Ash’s reign as the head of the Invisible Mafia was “ended” by Spoke and his friends, Ash has taken up a peaceful lifestyle on the odd terrain of the Farlands. In ways one couldn’t even begin to think of, the fearful Mafia Head has settled down. Settled down.
Ash was given the rare chance to settle down in a comfy secret-base home in one of the most secure areas on the server, has immense power over the server thanks to the Mafia Tomb which he could use at any given moment, is still very wealthy man despite running most cities around Spawn to poverty, and has had a beautifully charming wife right next to him.
Squiddo.
Oh, Squiddo..
The day started as usual; Ash would wake up next to Squiddo around eight in the morning, they would cook breakfast together in the peaceful silence that the Farlands offered, they would sit down to eat while making conversation of whatever interest they would have, and simply relax the rest of the day doing trivial tasks such as house chores or reading.
But for Ash, today he decided to explore more of the odd generation of the Farlands for curiosity's sake. He remembers grabbing his elytra, a stack or two of fireworks, a book’n’quill, and shared a soft kiss with Squiddo before soaring off into the sky, gliding quite a distance from the base to explore the land he’s been calling base home for months.
Surprisingly, he did get some beautiful views even stopping to rest on pieces of unloaded land to draw whatever he sees. For once Ashswagg allowed himself to do something he never believed would be useful in the past, enjoy the beauty of an untouched area of the server. To enjoy sitting on grass that is virgin to the taste of blood and stain of soot.
Eventually, the sun started heading toward West, the Farlands practically beckoned Ash to return back to the base and Squiddo to enjoy lunch. Leading to Ash launching himself into the sky using fireworks and simply allowing himself to glide through the air. Taking in the gentle breeze wisp past his face like a silk pillow as he soars peacefully upon the open sky.
The moment he allowed himself to feel peaceful, is now his worst as the sickening familiar scent of iron filled his senses. A smell Ash himself knows well and learned to pay no mind to has now come to haunt him as he spams the usage of fireworks to propel himself through the sky towards home base.
Upon landing (he definitely didn’t stumble) on the grounds outside his base, he neared the sounds of fireworks going off at a rapid place, most likely to get away. But Ash couldn’t even care about the sounds of fireworks going away as his attention was focused on the now silent house he practically stumbled to get into.
“Squiddo?! SQUIDDO!?”
He screeched, a sound that even shocked him for a moment before rushing through the ramshack that was once the bottom floor of the house. Items were missing, plates were broken, and the table definitely had a leg slashed off of it. Which gave Ash a sense of hope: a fight broke out, the chances of Squiddo being alive is being slightly raised by the fact the fight looks like it went all over for a while! If the intruders left that quickly, surely Squiddo must’ve fended them off! What other reason could someone have to not run aw-…
Ash may have cleared the bottom floor of the house, but the moment he got to the top of the stairs he saw a familiar figure laying on the ground. The orange blazer stained red from the back as blood pooled around like a splatch of paint. Beautifully tragic. Here lies Squiddo; One of her glasses lenses shattered, a diamond sword drove into her chest and came out her back, unmoving..
The grief of losing someone so dear to you is a concept Ashswagg never cared for. He tore apart families, communities, friends, and people for his own gain during the mafia. He manipulated every member to carry out missions to slaughter innocents every hour without any care if that was someone’s child. He tore people from the hinges they love. Now he is here to suffer the same fate.
For a good few minutes he stood there staring at the body of his lover, almost confused. Why would this exactly happen to HIM in particular? Wasn’t he careful enough to hide his “home” away from other players? Who could’ve possibly wanted to come out this far? Why would anyone come out this far? All questions remained unanswered.
After a bit he did move; careful and measured steps next to the body. His vision isn’t exactly amazing at the moment (crying? No. He can’t be.), but he still kneels down to cup Squiddo’s cheek. As if she was simply enjoying a nap, one that’ll last forever. No one else was in the room where it happened. No one else can say Ashswag let out a sound of pure ‘n raw grief, no one can say he stayed there hugging the body for what must have been hours, no one can say how he sobbed into Squiddo’s hair.
No one will know the ring he slipped off her finger and placed with his own, no one will know how he dug a grave and laid her into it, no one will know the numb state he was in as he packed whatever valuables he may need into shulkers that he quickly stuffed into his inventory, no one will know how he flew off towards the main server again.
I mean, how could they? They weren’t there. And these are the types of memories Ashswagg would rather pull his own stasis than admit every happened. Ashswagg left his base because he heard fireworks close, and knowing how many bounties for him are still up he didn’t want to take any chance. Simple.
On the Unstable SMP, if players wander far enough they will reach the monument known as the Farlands. If players decide to go beyond the Farlands they might stumble upon an abandoned house with a singular grave covered with orange tulips right next to it.
Here lies TheRealSquiddo
Beloved daughter, friend, and wife
XXXX-2026
Will forever be missed
She was the sun, and now she shall set
.
.
.
[ OUTSIDE BANDIT MARKET #6 ]
{VIEWING REDDOONS}
Honor among thieves.
An odd concept to think about to the average Unstable player, bandits having any more honor then them? Despite everyone stealing, it is still bizarre for citizens of Capital City to think thieves have honor.
Well, most citizens really. A player like Reddoons understands what the bandits mean, why else would the Bandit-King himself actually honor their pact? Because in their own twisted way, the bandits had honor. And Redd had learned to respect it as a con-man himself.
Walking past the foliage that hides one of the many bandit “hideouts” (With all the shit that happens in said hideout it might as well be considered the more elite version of Capital City’s Blackmarket) with a practiced ease Redd simply let himself in, today he is here as a friend not a businessman offering another deal as he’s taken an “Self-Care” break after Spoke so rudely raided one of his vaults. What a pity, BUT Redd has the rest of his newly made vaults (Built with a few people paid to stay silent) that housed all his wealth.
What was he supposed to do? Let Spoke run around and find the rest of his vaults in Capital City?
Entering the Bandit hideout Redd couldn’t help but notice the stares he caught while passing the crowd of outlaws. But the comfort that despite how willingly bandits sneak into civilizations and turn their backs the moment they no longer gain anything, these guys wouldn’t even try! Perks of having a sacred pact with their “king”. Redd has never felt so grateful for that annoying green blob. Plus the other shady folks in here (The wealthy, government officials from less known towns, or just someone who is useful enough) barely spared him a glance.
Slipping past tightly packed stalls and wandering crowds Redd manages to lead this hideout’s version of Boosfer’s “castle” (When the two made the deal Boosfer insisted on calling the base his castle, to which Redd found amusing). Spotting a duo of imp-hybrids (A red and blue one) chat as they walk away from the main door makes Redd come up with the logical idea that Boosfer is alone and ready to chat!
Letting himself inside he just wandered up the stairs to be met with the faint stench of alcohol. Now, Reddoons is no detective, but he is ninety-nine percent sure Boosfer isn’t exactly one to drink. Also the fact that Boosfer is one of the lightest drinkers Redd has seen in a while.
Letting his nose (Fucking hellhound when it comes to whiskey, I SWEAR-) take him through the hallway, Reddoons can’t help but wonder why the oh so prideful and arrogant Bandit-King would have to drink away. Because one thing Redd knows from pure experience; No one picks up a bottle on this server without something they want to wash away.
Which lead to Redd’s three theories:
- Boosfer wanted to try it for shits and giggles (Highly likely)
- Boosfer was tricked into drinking (Unlikely)
- Something else happens (Also very likely)
All mostly decent theories, which can only be proved by the man who is currently somewhere here. After a bit of walking (What did Boosfer POSSIBLY do to get even a faint stench of alcohol a hallway away from where he actually is. Another question, HOW BIG IS HIS BASE?? Questions the Author is NOT answering, can’t waterboard this shit outta me) farther into the hallway Redd stops himself in-front of one the many doors with a hanging sign.
This one reads; “Boosfer’s room”.
To think Boosfer actually had a sign for this. BUT, Redd will not judge Boosfer’s childish odd tendencies and instead gently open the door to find a dimly-lit room, a bottle of whiskey halfway downed, and one Boosfer who lays on the ground with a mind practically blank. Alcohol makes him seem much less like the annoying jokester he is and more like a cat.
A lazy cat.
The sigh Redd let out was something between acceptance and exhaustion. He was looking for a conversation, not to deal with a drunk Boosfer. Walking to face the alien on the ground Redd can only ask a simple question in that “iconic” nonchalant manner,
“You tired?”
To which the alien nodded…. Redd is too old for this shit exhales sharply before kneeling down and hooking one arm under Boosfer’s legs and one on around his back before picking him up with little to no difficulties. Oddly enough, the act of holding someone makes Redd reminisce about his earliest days as a fresh new adult. Eighteen and stuck with this child he did not ask to raise.
Brings him back to when he had this somehow still starry-eyed kid to take care of on this horrible server. Brings him back to how he refused to admit to having any parental love for the kid despite everything. Hmm now that he thinks of how much time it has been maybe he should send a letter to Spep, see how the kid is doing.
Maybe some other time.
But back to Boosfer, Redd simply carried the blob (Who is being surprisingly calm and not immediately thrashing like a fish the moment his body left the ground) to the cushioned couch that furnished the room before dropping Boosfer onto it. Walking away towards one of the barrels in the corner by the door to fetch a blanket to wrap and contain Boosfer the creature, Redd decided to start a conversation. Only the polite thing to do!
“So, something interesting happen today?”
Redd exclaimed, hoping to at least get some information on why Boosfer thought it was a brilliant idea to drink. Since his “step-down” (Redd wanted to work on his vaults and paid someone to be mayor for him however long he was gone. Seeing the state of Capital City, it seemed to work.) as Capital City’s president Redd hasn’t actually been that involved with anything happening with the city, the bandits, or the new election thing he’s heard about.
“Mhuuurrghhhgg, ‘nother elecHICT-io election..”
Boosfer stated, with a lazy swing of his arm. Seeing Boosfer’s state further proved the point that Boosfer cannot handle his alcohol at all. Like AT ALL.
But to Boosfer’s response Redd just hummed as he came back to drape the blanket on top of Boosfer, encouraging him to continue.
“An- and and Speppy was there for a while.. Spep was there!-“
Boosfer started before Redd cutted in,
“Well, of course. Elections are very important, I taught Spep that years ago.”
He explained. Simple, Spepticle was there to watch and stay informed. Reddoons is such a great father mentor. He taught Spep so well.
“HIC- no noooo!! Spep was there becau-because because Parrot, that stu- STUPID PEASANT, did something wrong an- and Spep took the blame! And and-HIC, now Speppy is gonnee- he’s gone!”
Boosfer screeched, like a child who doesn’t know how to feel so resorts to throwing a tantrum. Boosfer screeched about Spepticle being gone for a couple moments before falling asleep. Whiskey, the wonderful thing you are. Redds stayed silent, lips pulled into tightly thin line trying to fully take in the information. Which is something understandable, that was quite a bit of information to take in from Boosfer’s drunken rambling.
Redd can’t tell why he’s so caught up on this news, people die all the time on this server. Just the circle of life.
(Glorious time skips, savvve me. The author still can’t write but the author has ideas and decent enough sentences.)
The next morning, Boosfer woke up with a headache that could rival dealing with any of the other election candidates (Maybe not Purpled, Boosfer hasn’t actually really got to know him), which is saying a lot due to how utterly ridiculous and incompetent they can be! Taking another ten minutes to simply drag himself out from under the blanket to properly sit up to take in the sight of the best room on the server.
It’s his, the best room is his room. Don’t believe if anyone else tells you otherwise.
But back on track; Taking a glance around the room he spots the whiskey bottle he grabbed last night. Fully empty. Boosfer has to admit, losing Spepticle, someone who has had you and your “kingdom’s” back does hurt but Boosfer wouldn’t be THAT dramatic. But after a few more seconds of staring Boosfer concluded that Dev and Kier had a couple sips as well. Spepticle was also their friend.
Dragging himself into a standing position (Almost fell down BUT he caught himself) before waddling over towards the discarded bottle. Rubbing his eyes while squinting at the bottle, as if it’d tell him the secrets of the universe.
Sighing and glancing away from the bottle to the corner of his room where Boosfer placed his bed he notices a certain red-blob he surprisingly knows well.
“Wahh…?? What? Hey?! HEY!? GW- GET OUTTA MY BED-“
Boosfer shouted as he scrambled towards the couch to yank the closest pillow in sight and launch it at the figure. To which the out-of-it Reddoons could only respond with a groan followed by Boosfer’s laughter.
Redd regrets making a deal with this guy sometimes.
.
.
.
[ CAPITAL CITY ]
{VIEWING PRINCEZAM}
Thanks to Spoke’s little plan to break out all prisoners (Besides Wemmy… Well, Wem had always been a bit tough when it came to letting others help) from LAW’s prison, Zam has taken up a new life. A new life called “Managing to stay free in Capital City while working at a fashion boutique (that surprisingly well ran and kept up) as an assistant peacefully thanks to most of the police force being actual chungies”. Brilliant, she knows!
Now, you may be asking; “A store for clothes? On Unstable? People have the time and money for that?!”, to which can only be answered by yes. Yes, it is possible. Zam hasn’t seen such an elegant business since his empire but that may just be personal bias. Trust Zam, she was as shocked that such a place existed in Capital City and was actually running.
The shock did wash away once Zam noticed the pattern.
The moderately-wealthy or high-ranking citizens (Don’t trust what people say, there is still a hierarchy here. Nothing ever changes.) bought new, fabulous, and expensive clothes! And for all the normal people, they bought the decent-looking ‘n cheaper clothes and came for the tailoring service they offered.
Zam is quite proud of themselves, they managed to build quite the life for themselves! But, she still feels… unsatisfied with the outcome of everything.
Maybe it’s the yearn for something more. Something their own. Maybe not another empire, but not working as a seamstress in Capital City.
Which is why she made a “Master Plan” months ago. Zam works the closing shift of the store; Lock up, count today’s earnings, store them safely in the little employees area upstairs, and blow out all the lanterns. But Zam does a bit of mischief. From her time working here she knows no one is truly taking attention to the stock despite how precise this business tries to be. So what’s the harm of taking a few outfits?
And this evening has marked the moment Zam decided that she would be much happier if she left the area surrounding spawn. This server has caused him nothing but paranoia and pain from the moment she logged on. So they packed up all the clothing pieces they took into a shulker and placed other miscellaneous items that’d seem useful later on in her inventory.
With a final internal debate if this is the right time to do this, Zam came to the conclusion that it is now or never. So with a smile of victory, she left the apartment she’s been calling her base without a second thought.
Zam is sick of this server despite doing nothing to help the server get better. Zam is only concerned for herself and her only. And that thought alone gave her a new burst of energy.
She has managed to convince herself the moment she gets far away from spawn, she’ll feel free. And with that ideology he wants to get as far away from the server Spawn as possible. He can’t go back, never going back…
So with long strides and an oath to never come back (willingly), Zam walks out towards the gates of Capital Citie’s walls. Passing by plenty of LAW men; Some wear their armor wrong, some mess around while on the job, some twirling and tossing their swords around as if they are invincible. Zam can’t help but cringe out how unorderly the group are.
But he wants to get out without a fight, so she’ll make no remarks.
As Zam walks towards the gate, it seems like the universe wants her to stay in the city longer. All around town are crowds gossiping about yesterday’s events, roads being blocked by groups walking too slowly, some people even coming up to Zam to ask her opinions on the election! Can’t most of them take the hint after they push the first few askers away? People these days!
The talk about elections and whatever happened yesterday (People are saying it was an execution, Zam could literally care LESS) makes Zam’s head spin. Feels just like prison when the guards would use the inmates as their personal therapist when the world outside got too much. Zam swears if someone else comes up into her face she is going to slap them across the face!
Everything feels wrong. Maybe it’s because Zam might’ve lost it back in prison but everything is wrong. People are too pushy, too loud, too close, too warm. The world spins and it takes a couple of deep breaths for Zam not to feel her lunch in his throat. Did the players of this server become more unbearable lately or have they always been like this?
The constant pushing of the overly crowded streets is so odd for Zam. Usually the streets are actually pretty tame during the day with no real crowding. But thanks to whatever must’ve happened yesterday, it seems like everyone and their mothers want to talk about it.
Loudly. In the MIDDLE OF ANYWHERE.
Getting past the mob makes the usual few minutes walk to the gate feel like walking across soul sand without enchanted Soul Speed boots.
But after a bit of persistent shoving, Zam finally saw the gates. With a sigh of relief, her shoulders shagged after minutes of tension and the edges of her lips tug upwards. Almost free! Seems like life is being nice to her to-
The chatter of Capital Cities streets were all flooded away by an eldritch screech (Correction, screeches.) that quickly became the only thing people could hear. The city went silent for a moment before the first explosion was heard. Then chaos erupted.
Zam slowly turned around to face the noise, and it truly shocked him. She wasn’t even scared, just shocked. A wither… No, not just one, five. How’d someone summon that? ClownPierce hoards all materials from the Nether, that’s why LAW has diamond gear.. How? When? And most importantly, why? Who is possibly dumb enough to go into the Nether and stubborn enough to make it out alive just to attack Capital City? The screams and chaos that quickly filled the streets was something that almost sent Zam’s vision spinning. Well, at least the path out of the city is much clearer.
~No, Zam did not see a few LAW men grin before locking in and barking orders at other guards to go deal with the withers.
But frankly, this is no longer Zam’s issue as she is not responsible for. Dashing to the gates and just keep running away. Zam has no doubt that a few skilled players could easily take down those withers, but Zam has lived in Capital City long enough to know the guards aren’t that competent as they say to be; and the players that flood in from spawn are none the wiser.
That fact is quickly backed up as citizens started rushing out of the gates with the sound of explosions coming closer. Silly, have the players of this server gotten too comfortable? Are these new players? Back during the PrinceZam Empire players would grin and run head first at the withers.
Maybe people are just cowards nowadays. But, Zam just keeps running as she plans to go to the Wheat Kingdom hearing that the area stretches out for miles past Spawn. Far enough to live peacefully.
But back to her current predicament, chaos is thriving. In the few moments she’s gotten away from the city she’s heard others yelling how more Wither’s are being spawned. And how visitors from other nations are rushing out the city. More interestingly, said visitors have wagons.
So Zam comes up with a brilliant plan, if he can spot one with the Wheat Kingdom’s banner, he can probably go away with them and the visitors would be none the wiser.
With a huff Zam turned their path towards the huge road where the mass majority is running (Or riding.) on. Looking between the carts she notices a group with a good amount of players dressed as farmers and decides to take the chance.
Leading more into the chaos Zam finally notices how noisy it is. Not from the constant footsteps beating the ground beneath or the sounds of horses, but the yelling of people. People scream for family, nations, or just help in general. Zam follows the carts she believes is full of Wheaters (AUTHOR KNOWS THIS IS A SILLY ASS NAME, but author also though it’d be amazingly funny if we just call Wheat Kingdom citizens Wheaters) and clears his throat before just mimicking the people around himself to blend in. In other words, he’s just screaming his head off.
Zam reaches the cart and the Wheaters see three things; Another person, another person who is screaming in terror as well, and is following them. Which justifies in their brains that this must be one of their own. How gullible.
Zam stretches her arm out in hopes the players on the cart fall for her acting, which thankfully they do. One grabs Zam’s hand to help lift him up as another from Zam’s right gets a grip on Zam to help haul him up before turning around to help the next person.
And this, friends, is how PrinceZam managed to snag a free ride away from the Spawn and away from the horrors the main parts of the server has to offer.
[ SKIES ABOVE CAPITAL CITY ]
{VIEWING ASHSWAGG}
Still in a daze, Ashswag flies freely through the sky, ignoring the sounds of terror and destruction beneath him. The Mafia has conditioned this man into practically using the sounds of fear as white noise. Which doesn’t help his predicament; Ash has run out of rockets. He’s simply gliding and going down.
The loss of his beloved has actually shaken this man to his core. Making him ignore the fact he is going to crash straight into the surrounding forest of Capital City, which is quite funny to think that this is the same exact player who ran the mafia.
As expected, Ashswag crashes into a couple of trees, the first branch he hit did wake him up but also ripped off his elytra. Which left him free-falling through branches and towards the ground. He refuses to scream, that is a sign of weakness.
But he does grunt the moment his head connects with the trunk of a planted spruce tree. Leaving him vulnerable and unconscious, open to the chaos surrounding him.
He slightly stirred to the noise, he barely even flinched when a pair of hands struggled to pick him up but eventually secured Ash into a bridal carry position. Only narrowly opening his eyes to see a fair-skinned man with dirty blonde hair and clover green eyes that seemed confused on what even he was doing.
In response to Ash slightly opening his eyes the man said,
“Oh! So you aren’t dead! That is awesome.”
He exclaimed with a small smile, which heavily confused Ash. Does this man have no idea who he is? Does this man have no fear? No respect? No IDEA?!
Aha can’t help but feel conflicted. The majority of his being is screaming in his mind, but a small part is in relief? How odd. But he doesn’t have much time to think as Abs is very aware how heavy his eyelids are and how the man seems to be walking somewhere.. Huh. Ash wonders where he’ll end up now. But his mind is too fuzzy right now.
Maybe a small nap will prove good…
[ CAPITAL ROAD ]
{VIEWING KYLEEFF}
Watching the fella in his arms fall back asleep, Kyle can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. He really thought the guy was going to strangle him where he stood! But is VERY grateful that he didn’t. So that’s a win in Kyle’s book!
Walking along the road that is currently still filled with chaos (Kyle doesn’t understand, people can just chill and everyone would be getting home quicker!!) before spotting the wagon he came on. Adjusting the sleeping figure in his arms Kyle takes off running to catch up.
And after a bit of shoving, Kyle has reached his destination! Kinda. It’s really hard to pass another person out of your arms into someone else’s. Kyle has no idea what to do with that information but can only stare as the fella he picked up gets hauled up by two others before they help him up.
Taking a glance back at the two that helped him wanting to ask if they wanted help but ultimately decided not to as the two seem to be doing fine as they hauled an red imp-hybrid with a fancy suit and sunglasses on to. Kyle is pretty sure he ain’t from his town but oh well!
The more, the merrier!
Taking a look around at the others he’s with he spots; The guy he carried here (currently knocked out), a yellow fish-hybrid of some kind who has really fancy clothes (who he is pretty sure is asleep), the fancy red guy (who seems like he has a bad hangover), and some others from home he knows.
With that in mind Kyle allows himself to drift into a slumber. It’s a long way home anyways.
{VIEWING BYSTANDER POVS}
(Also Timeskip because Author is still very lazy)
Watching the stars twinkle in the sky as the herd of wagons heading towards the Wheat Kingdom were two young farmers, chatting about trivial things before the younger of the two pointed something out,
“Shushhh!!! Shush!! Lookin lookie at Kyle and the newbies!”
The youngster snickered as the older glanced over before closing their eyes and taking a long breath to not burst out laughing. The scene in front of them was simple. Kyle and the three we definitely aren’t from home are practically using each other as heaters.
The two watched the group before one muttered,
“So we are gonna tell the other to make Kyle take them in, ye’?”
“Oh totally.”
And the two continued their conversation as if they didn’t help fate make the WORST possible idea. But the worst ideas are usually the funniest ideas.
Everything will probably be fine unless these guys make a podcast. But what’s the chance that these four strangers could have a podcast, in any universe.
What a way to end off a Friday.