Builds, Redstone, and Madness

Bats buzzed between the ruins, playing in puddles and feasting off glow berries left behind. They clumped together on creaking beams, shaking their wings at outsiders who dared get too close to their precious fruit.

One such bat, smaller than the rest, jumped from roost to roost. Failing and failing to find their perfect home.

The tendrils tittered as he swooped by.

In the center of the city stood an empty structure—a portal or statue maybe—towering over a singular chest. Perching on the teeth of a Shrieker, tiny claws heaved open the lid to find a shimmering golden apple.

The tendrils cried.

A Shrieker screamed out—sending the roosts scattering—revealing a swirling well of souls.

The teeth snapped shut-

.

He dug out, claws shoveling aside earth and rock. His skull popping out of the ground and shaking debris off the little wings under his ears.

“Where’d everyone go?”

Truly abandoned, the city didn’t reply. No grumble of tendrils or flutter of wings. Just the eerie echos of the caves and the drip of water.

Bones clicked with every step, only his swirling cyan soul illuminating his way.

Through the city—careful of tendrils and Shriekers—he picked through chests. His body feeling odd without a protective layer of fur. Fashioning an outfit from the few clothes and scraps left behind.

Soon, he’d been outfitted in loose clothes. Using a vest to keep his flowing shirt with bell sleeves in place and tying a scrap of cloth around his pant leg to hide the tear. Leftover cloth wrapped around his exposed arms and legs to hide his bones. A flag he’d stolen covering the large hole in the back of his shirt, where his bones felt as damp as the sculk below.

He didn’t cover his skull. Empty sockets staring at the world with only two fangs to resemble a mouth. A singular swooping bang perched between the large ears atop his head and hand-sized wings attached to his high cheekbones.

He wobbled with each uncertain step—wraps covering the vulnerable little bones of his talons—as he traveled up and out of the caves.

The world only got brighter and brighter, leaving him squinting when he finally saw the grass. The bright blue sky and even brighter sun glaring down through leaves of birch trees.

He wandered, not sure of a direction, through forests and along rivers, until he spotted a group of people.

They didn’t mind when he joined the circle, stepping aside to let him into the roost.

Humans of all sorts had gathered.

Two dressed in loose clothes like the bat, but in hues of brown, red and white. One with an eye covered by a black cloth and another covering hair with a wide brimmed hat.

Others wore simple shirts and pants. One with a sleek clean white shirt with a black triangle scrap hanging from their neck. Another had red stripes criss-crossing about. Two more in Blue shirts and casual pants.

Even more wore different sorts. Two were brightly colored—one of them with their skin blue—and another in pale clothes with a vest like the bat but a gold star gleaming on their chest.

The bat stood next to the only other non-human. The sleek white shirt worn by an orange humanoid creature with a large grin and even larger eyes.

The Human with the star—Darius the group had called him—stepped onto a mound in the center of their little circle.

“Well, well, well, people-” Darius started,

“We’re gathered all-!” A voice mimicked, garnering laughter.

“So,” Darius picked back up again, “We’re gathered here for the second season of royal realms. We’ve got some new faces-”

The group looked between each other, “And some old faces-” The original members of the group jumped and waved their arms about.

“And let’s do our best! Okay?” Darius finished.

Everyone wandered off, gathering wood, digging holes for stone, and exploring.

As the bat stuck around—all the humans had names for each other. Even the other creature had a name.

The bat settled on something simple: Mu.

Mu followed as they chopped trees and ventured deep into the caves—where he was most at home. Weaving between enemies and reaching the glowing blue rock that reminded him of the city. Many others collecting it too, all excited for the equipment the rock—diamonds—could make.

Before long, the humans split off one by one, and Mu traveled back.

In the short time together, Mu learned a lot from the humans, and he expected to learn more.

.

He set up camp by the very cave he’d come out of. Planting food and crafting the start of a home.

When night fell, and his campfire lit his humble claim, he could see a glow over the mountainside.

Come morning, he trekked through the snow. Noting to make some of that armor the humans had been talking about, lest he freeze his talons off.

Just over the top of the mountain, teetered on the rigged cliffs of the frozen hills, sat a small village. Only a farmer was outside, eagerly greeting Mu.

The houses were almost all empty, and Mu was welcome to take—if he helped them.

An enemy village had almost wiped them out. Leaving only the Farmer, the Elder—a humble librarian, and a Cleric from the very village they were at war with.

The humans had talked of the uses of villagers, and an iron farm was just what Mu needed. All he had to do was build it.

Rowing down the river back to his campsite, Mu saw the perfect spot.

Not far from the shore nor the cliff side he had settled on was a large island. Before he could even move in proper, Mu awoke the next morning to a strange sight.

A jack-o-lantern perched above his door.

Checking his old campsite, there weren’t any other pumpkins to be found. Humans were an odd sort.

Maybe, Mu needed to research them.

In short work, Mu moved to the island. Visiting the Village again to say goodbye’s, the trek much steeper and farther from his new home.

The Elder nodded along, lost in thought.

Before Mu could leave, the Elder offered a deal.

Just West of the island, deep under the river, laid an old dungeon of a lost civilization. The rotten flesh of the zombies it spawned would give the Cleric a chance to trade with other—safer—villages. And it’d give Mu the emeralds to buy a very precious enchantment from the Elder.

Mu set to work.

Digging deep under the earth, taking all the tricks he’d heard from the humans, and tips from the Elder—Mu constructed an Experience Farm. Anchoring the spawner to the ceiling and shoveling layer after layer underneath it.

He traveled to the humans to trade soul sand, and visited his old home. Taking sculk to decorate his spawner and enchanter with.

After being out in the world so long, the city looked so barren. He finally understood the word “ruin”.

Mu would come back and rebuild the city one day. He swore by it. But he had a dungeon to build first.

.

Between carts of stone, when Mu caught a glimpse of someone else, he sneaked over to ask them a simple question.

“What do you think absolutely has to be in a dungeon?”

Midnight stared for a moment, thinking over the question and the weird bat skeleton that had been lurking in the trees while she’d been terraforming.

“Um… dead bodies.”

“Mhm- Mhm! Thank you!” Mu began to run away, before shouting back “Have a good one!” As he’d seen the other humans do. They liked a format in their conversations.

He wandered to another group of humans, the one that’d traded him soul sand at no cost but his travel over.

Mu slowly followed after Overproduction, or Ben as he was often called. Going through their portal—he needed to get one of those—and across thin bridges in the fiery dimension of the Nether.

“Oh- hello!” Ben shouted from below the precarious cliff, watching as Mu stumbled down rickety stairs.

“Hello there!” Mu greeted back, clutching the totem—an artifact of wonder, transforming death into life—that this very human had gifted them. “Alright- I come baring gifts, but I have a question first.”

“’Course, what’s the question?”

“What do you think absolutely has to be in a dungeon- it can’t be a dungeon without it?” Mu asked again.

“Hmm,” Ben pondered for a moment, before muttering to himself, “That you can do… ‘Cause I would say, like, obviously mob spawner. But…”

They were immovable. Fragile and decaying as they were, not even the coveted silk touch could pick them up. And their crafting had been lost to time.

“I would say hidden passage.” Ben supplied,

“Mmm, mm.” Mu nodded, still struggling with human conversation, “Alright- there ya go!” And tossed Ben some sugar cane and leather for his troubles. More than enough to make the books he needed for enchanting and trading.

Then Mu took off again.

Back in the Overworld—as the humans called it—was another human Ben had based near. Anxy.

“Hi hi!” The bat greeted, and the human returned in kind.

“Hello!”

“I have a question for you,” Anxy muttered a soft “oh”, that Mu had learned was an invitation to speak further, “What does a dungeon absolutely have to have- it’s not a dungeon without it?”

“…A secret passage?”

“Secret passage- Okay- thank you, thank you. Have good day!”

And Mu ran off again.

Bit by bit, he worked away until he had completed the farm. Finally getting a Mending book from the Elder. An enchantment that could repair tools with the very experience he had collected from his new farm. And from the human’s gossip—he’d gotten it at a very cheap price.

While he needed to build a base—make a proper place, he knew it’d be far easier if he took the time at the farm, and got the very best tools and armor he could. So he waited, and sat. And one by one, the humans started to come to him.

They looked around at the decorated chamber of the farm. Built from the tough deepslate and crafted of tiles and brick like the ancient city. Sculk was layered in the walls behind arches, holding soul torches up to light the small rooms in the blue glow of Mu’s home.

“Oh actually- while I have you here, I have a question.”

“Yeah?” Grazer spoke casually, although it had came out more of a “Yas?”, tossing off his armor in the safety of the chamber. The humans all seemed to speak so differently even with the same words.

“What do you think a dungeon absolutely needs, it’s not a dungeon with out it?”

Grazer thought for a moment.

“A spawner!”

Well, there were loopholes for that. Mu had heard gossip of Mob farms, dark rooms that spawned monsters by themselves.

“Got it.” Mu replied after that thought, gaining a laugh from Grazer, “Thank you thank you.”

Time flew by, alone in the little chamber. Mu had almost finished enchanting when they were visited again.

“Oh yeah- I’ve already done this with Anxy, Dari.” They looked to the Sheriff, now sporting a large cowboy hat, “What does a dungeon absolutely have to have? It’s not a dungeon without it.”

“I mean- I could say- the obvious stuff. Ya’know, a spawner. For Mobs and stuff.”

“Thank you- that’s all I needed.”

And with enchanting settled, all he needed was to finish his home—his compound.

Walls set, floors refinished. Detailing the meager stone he had. Decorating the dull grays of stone, cobble, and andesite with humble arches of pale yet warm spruce wood.

A roaring fire, a docile oven, a crafting table and sink for a quaint kitchen. Smaller hallways turned into storage and a hidden bed nook. Decorated with barrels of valuables. A tower turned into cells to capture the enemy.

Chests lined a staircase leading down to a chamber filled with water—a single cell of iron bars in the center.

Everything ready for an iron farm.

Only the Golems stood in his way.