#elemental!iskall

It was a normal, wonderful day.

It was dawn, a brand new start of a day. The brit pranced around the newly discovered island, who had just parked his roughly crafted oak boat onto the shore. Grian has been exploring for a good while now, it was just him in this world, and while it has been a bit too quiet for his liking, his element kept him company. It was the second day of exploring, and his wings have been a bit tired out, so he had temporality traveled by boat. The island he was on was considerably big, big enough for him to explore for a while and get some food on before he moves on. And so far? He had found a cute rabbit, and some sheep on the island he can shear for wool.

Grian was just quietly minding his own business. Suddenly, a portal began to materialize, the rabbit jumped out from the blonde's arms, startling him. He turned and looked around in all directions, all the other animals began to run as well. He finally rests his sight on the portal, as it lit up with an eerie purple light, voices can be heard from the other side.

Something within him was telling him to run, his element was telling him to get as far as people, that they were better safe than sorry. But Grian's natural morbid curiosity nailed him to the wet, ocean brushed grass. As the voices from the portal become more vivid and clear, he was becoming more and more unsure of what he was supposed to be feeling: Fear? Confusion? Excitement? He had no idea. His wings enclosed behind his back, almost as if to make him feel safer, he retreated behind a small hill.

A gloved hand reached through the portal.

Grian jumped, taking a step back, pressing himself against the dirt blocks. He could feel his element slowly becoming more and more hostile, as the once peaceful wind on the island became wilder and constantly changed directions. As the first person showed up, Grian observed them, he hasn't noticed him yet. The stranger had a helmet that was similar to a gas mask, with a dull green suit. He was the only one to show up through that portal, almost to scout things out. Grian watched him, as he walked back into the portal to do something, Maybe to Inform? But inform who? He felt a chill up his spine, he didn't like the idea of his little own bubble in the world being popped, but it was people! Better than talking to his own element for social interaction.

The wind changed directions just to slap a leaf onto Grian's face, almost as if to tell him to shut up.

Grian snickered, he left the hill that was hiding behind, much against his element's will. He approached the portal, almost tempted to go through it himself. The brit swatted at the purple portal matter, to test it was really real or not before he was greeted with a wave of people coming out from the portal. Grian squeaked, and in reaction to the sudden release of strong emotions; the wind picked up and became strong enough to push everyone back into the portal.

He quickly picked up a piece of paper that was left in his boat and scribbled something on. The blonde threw it into the portal, hoping for the best as he waited for any kind of response, he can't just lose people like this, anyone is fine, anyone other than just his own element.

At last, the helmeted lad had poked his head through the portal again, Grian immediately stood up from sitting, admittedly still frightened. But more or so less now.

He spoke in a British accent, a hint of apologeticness in his voice. "I'm deeply sorry for that, really sorry if we scared ya, didn't mean it." Before quickly going back into the portal to bring out the rest of the people, some of them Grian had recognized from the first attempt to enter from the portal.

Grian mentally prepared himself, but he was definitely not expecting anything like this.

All the new people, at this point, was just circling him. Grian held his arm uncomfortably, "...Hi? I suppose..." He squeaked.

The first thing someone had immediately done was throw one rose at him. Cool, I guess.

Grian picked it up, and but the rose in his hand.

"...Right, so who are you exactly?" A man with a heavy Swedish accent questioned, he would have laughed at that accent if it wasn't for the fact that multiple people are staring at him.

"Erm, I'm Grian?"

Before he could reply, another person pushed the Swedish out of the way. He wore a blue shirt and had a shaggy hair cut, and seemed kind. Grian relaxed a bit but was still very wary.

"'lright, howdy!" He began. "Joe Hills here. 'scuse their rude manners, we don't get new hermits very often, y'know?" This Joe says with a faint southern accent could be heard, however not as heavy as the former.

Grian stretched his wings out of nervousness. This was all very much a shock, "Hermits? What are you all going on about? Am I going to die?" He rambled. Obviously, very confused.

"Uh, right, X, can you explain?" Someone had said, the one with the helmet turned towards the blonde, he was previously staring at the portal. Focused on something else. He moved his attention away and onto Grian, and sighed. He took his helmet off out of respect and held out his hand. "Nice to meet ya, the name's Xisuma, mostly everyone calls me X for short."  Grian took out in wariness and shook it.

Someone started to chat in the background.

"Hold up, shouldn't we be more careful? Last time we let some random stranger in it was Evil X and we all know what happened-"

"Come on dude, Evil X wasn't that bad, he only mildly burned up the place!"

Grian ignored it and focused on Xisuma. "So, understandably, you must be really confused right now." He started. The winged brit only nodded in response. "The group here, including me, call ourselves hermits, and collectively, our adventures is called hermitcraft. Of course, you are here before us in this world, so that means you were meant to join us. Although, you did push us back towards the portal with your element. That was kind of rude of ya."

The air shifted a bit.

"E-erm, it was really not my fault?"

"What do ya mean it wasn't--"

He was starting to get really uncomfortable with the situation, Grian considered flying away at this moment, it was too much. He quickly turned around, begging his element to work with him, and jumped off a small cliff and flew off.

They’re all fighting their best. It’s just a skirmish battle, nothing special, but who would they be if they didn’t put 100% into each and every fight? Habituality is the enemy of creativity, Joe’s said, and they’re inclined to stick by what he says even if they are on different sides. He’s always been a smart man.

Speaking of Joe, the other’s hunched over someone’s body trying to heal the nasty after effects of electrocution. He’s sorry, he thinks. But in the words of Joe himself, All’s fair in love and war.

—

Doc had called Mumbo over, with a glint in his eyes, and for a second he panics: had he been found out? Had he been discovered, as the mole he was? It’s an entirely logical path to take, he thinks. After all, Doc’s a pretty scary guy when he’s mad; wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of that.

He can’t hurt Mumbo directly with his element, seeing as how Mumbo would just get powered up by the charge, but he’s got plenty of other teammates that could do whatever damage they wanted without repercussions—and considering the loyalty that they’ve got to their leader (not you not you not you), it wouldn’t be a fun time.

There’s a gentle shk-shk sound, and Mumbo picks his way over to see a stack of papers spread out on the table and a small stack of fireworks. “So, what’s all this for?” He’s relieved out of his mind that those are not his personal papers that somehow Doc had discovered.

“We’ve received intel that they’re going to hit on our southern border at around 20 ticks this night. Not too bad, from what I’ve heard, but still—a loss of a pet bird stings the same as the loss of a loved one.”

Mumbo had known that already, had been warned to stay out of this fight if he could. They didn’t want him getting accidentally hurt in a struggle, and risk outing himself. He’d been very, very careful to avoid taking pain medicine in any way when around team STAR, for fear of his mouth blabbering something the rest of him resolutely did not want to say, but accidents did happen—better to stay on the safe side.

“And we’re going to…?”

“We’re going to fight back, of course. Don’t want to get into another fight, but that’s how it is,” he says with a shrug. “Ready?”

Ah. Damn. “Where’s the others?”

“Don’t need ‘em, I think. I wouldn’t want to bother them, it’s better for them to get their sleep. And just between you and me, we both know you weren’t sleeping tonight anyways.”

His blood runs ice-cold. He couldn’t have, he was so careful—

“Lighten up, man. Meant nothing by it, just wanted to say that I’ve noticed you’re a light sleeper. Now, are we ready or not?”

He nods. Better get this over with. “Yeah, let me just grab my gear. I’ll be ready in a few.”

Tucking a notebook into his suit, Mumbo rushes to grab whatever he can. Emergency supplies, healing items, the like. Hopefully they wouldn’t hit as hard, since they knew him…

—

The moon’s rising high over the swamp, and all that she hears is the sound of crackling thunder striking down again and again. It’s just him and Doc, and he’s fallen easily into his role: provide defense to match Doc’s offense.

He knows that G-Team would have most likely more members than they did, but he couldn’t quite manage to see them, is all. Joe’s here, he knows; wouldn’t want to leave their main healer behind. Iskall’s here, obviously—of course they’d bring him to a damned swamp biome. He suspects Stress is here, he can hear a quiet shattering sound echoing every now and then. And Grian’s here too, giving him a panicked glance before taking off again to try to channel some power towards Mumbo to knock him off his feet.

A powerful group, to be sure. He was almost hoping that he and Doc would be beat quickly and they could go back to the base. Luck, it seemed, had other plans.

—

The tide of battle changes rapidly when Doc realizes the swamp water conducts electricity. So far he’s been directing it at various hermits, most often Grian (he whispers in an aside to Mumbo, take out the leader and you take the whole team out) but it’s been doing minimal damage and Doc’s not willing to use their trump card quite yet.

It’s understandable, then, how his eyes light up upon the crackle that rises from the earth when he slams his trident down in frustration. Eyes darting to the side, he asks a silent question: Do you see? Can you see the potential? Mumbo nods, torn. His team or victory.

Doc’s either too absorbed to notice the conflict, or just doesn’t care. He yells silent victory to the moon, and buries the trident into the earth with a shout: “Have fun!”

It takes a while for it to sink in, but Doc is steadfast. He’s clutching the trident between his hands so tight his knuckles are whitening, supercharging it up with thousands of volts at once and dear lord it’s terrifying to watch. It’s quickly becoming a beacon in the middle of the swamp, and G-Team draws out of the shadows, attracted by the light as moths to a flame.

He almost cries out a warning then, cries out that this will hurt bad. It’s fine for him, he thinks. It’s fine for him to get thousands of volts running through his body—it just recharges him, tips him over his natural limit and grants him a rush of almost unlimited power. For his team? It’ll be bad. Doc won’t hurt them seriously enough to be out of commission forever (for all his power, he’s not a harsh or cruel man), and he sees Joe as a silent sparrow perched in a birch tree, but the experience is still quite harrowing—and he’d prefer to spare his team that pain.

He pushes it down. Pushes down the cry on his lips, and taps Doc on the shoulder—should he take to the trees? Doc responds with a nod. Hit Grian while he’s down, he says in his eyes. Remember. It’s like a house of cards—one falls and they all fall with it. He doesn’t want to, but. They should understand.

He flees.

—

He’s sitting next to Joe, who’s checking him for any injuries and quietly tsk’ing over scratches from months ago. He misses him, he thinks. They’ll be “enemies” again in a second, but it’s nice to snatch moments like this where he can.

Mumbo knows what moment he’s waiting for. Could see it in Doc’s eyes as clear as anything. He’s waiting for Grian to land, to come face Doc in the swamp. Grian’s flight is limited, free as though he might seem, and it must run out eventually.

When Grian lands, knees bent, a picture of perfect poise, several things happen in rapid succession.

Joe tenses up next to him.

The rest of G-Team floods out of the relative safety of the boggy swampland, joining Grian in the water.

A ripple runs along the riverbank, heading for Doc. (Iskall’s a smart one, he thinks. Good man.)

Doc notices the ripple, bares his teeth in some semblance of a grin, and twists the trident.

And then.

And then, electricity lights up the night sky brighter than day.

It arcs and sweeps across the water, jumping and twisting and weaving around like it was almost eager to free itself.

It runs through the water, through the millions of particles of water, and strikes G-Team like star come down from the heavens.

It hits Iskall first. It hits him as he’s attempting to manipulate this biome further into their favor, it hits him underwater and hits him hard. When he comes back up (after a long time, too long, he thinks) he’s gasping and his body is sparking all over like he’s about to explode. The pain’s clear in his eyes, and he flees from the water, dragging himself out with a pained grimace and clenched teeth. One down.

The electricity snakes towards Stress next. She’s got a little more warning, not quite the brutal direct hit Iskall took, but she’s equally ineffective in the face of the combination of devastating power and the perfect medium to deliver it. Ice forms under her feet as she tries to freeze the water fast enough to stop the electricity and fast enough for her to get away, but the speed at which the electricity arrives—it shatters under her like glass. It frames her face in a strange halo for half a second before slamming her to the ground under its force, and she manages to gather her wits enough to stumble off the swamp, thin snow-melt ice under her; hands trembling and voice shaking as she calls a warning to Stay out of the water, for the love of god, (watch yourself watch yourself and maybe you won’t get hurt the way we did).

Joe’s watching, horrified, for half a second before he snaps out of his trance and sprints to them to do what he can. They’re healing up, slowly, and would probably try to get back into battle later—but that doesn’t matter now. What matters is Grian, and Doc standing across from him with the same grin carved into his face.

He’s in shock, Mumbo thinks. At how fast his team was taken out, at how they knew of the attack. It’s the split second of hesitation before he unfurls his wings to try to take off again that seals his fate.

Grian crouches down, ready to leap up, and a single tip of his wings skim the water. Doc twists the trident again, forcefully, and then. Blue lightning leaps up, eagerly waiting to consume and twist and burn whatever it can find. And it happens to find Grian’s wings dipped ever-so-slightly into the water.

There’s a charred scent in the air, and Grian’s eyes are blown wide open. He can see the moon. There’s a little sound, and then. He tips over, falling into the water. Doc hurriedly shuts off the power (that much all over his body would hurt him more than was necessary or recoverable, he thinks) and gestures, searching the trees with his eyes.

Joe’s got his hands tied with the other two, and Grian’s just lying there. Not able to get up, not able to take off, essentially dead in the water, he thinks in some sort of morbid humor. He doesn’t want to hurt Grian. Neither does Doc, he knows, but Mumbo’s got the barrier of his mole status to fight through every single time he looks to injure with intent. He takes a deep breath (sorry sorry sorry) and steps out behind Grian, about to thrust his hand forward and bring him down even further, when.

Stress shouts, “Go! Get up!” and sends a wave of ice through her scream to lift Grian in the air. It boosts him up, launches him into the air, and Grian shakes out his waterlogged, heavily injured wings in the brief time Stress bought him enough to gain a few feet into the air.

No! If he fights, they all fight, and I can’t have the battle continuing. I can’t risk it. (They can’t get hurt further by me and Doc.)

He justifies it that way in his head, justifies leaping up behind his figure silhouetted in the moonlight to deliver a blow with redstone he has ready to Grian’s head—hopefully enough to knock him out.

It’s at that moment Doc lets out a cry of anger, and sends a bolt streaking through the air above Grian’s head to force him to flinch out of the air. It’s at that moment he slams his trident in frustration into the water again. And it’s at that moment that Mumbo accidentally takes the strike meant for Grian, and slams into the water. The still charged water. The water which is currently overflowing with raw elemental power, and looking for an outlet.

He thinks he’s fine for the brief half second he sinks into the water, thinks he’ll be able to stand it as he’s done before and maybe even receive some sort of boost. Those thoughts are dispelled in the next instant.

—

Energy’s flowing through his body and out, circling and cycling through with no regard for the mortal vessel it’s being held in, and he thinks he understands what death is.

he feels the moon

the stars

the water, the sky, the universe, he thinks he tastes blood on his lips.

he can’t taste much of anything now, he thinks. he’s raw power, unfiltered, screaming to be let free to be let out to be uncaged

He thinks he forgot his name. Did he have one?

He’s the universe. He’s the starry night blinking out a message. He’s a signal, a beacon, every single message sent out in the universe, desperately seeking a response, it hurtsithurtsithurts

He’s just a mass of carbon of raw spacedust crumbling as the sky turns and the earth turns or maybe they’re one and the same and he’s just a dot in the universe

He’s falling apart the longer it goes on, he thinks. Or maybe he doesn’t. He can’t tell anymore, the difference between him and the ground and the water he can’t remember what he was doing

He thinks he hears screaming, from far beyond. From the edge of the world, maybe.

There’s too much power arcing through him, too much for him to handle, there’s no way to direct it because how can you direct the ocean? Without direction it’s unhinged, just passing through, using him as a train station, leaving pain and pain and pain in its wake.

Hey, something shouts. Hey, no, wake up, you’re not dying on my watch, d’you hear me? Wake up! Wake up! You have to wake up!

He wants to. Maybe. It’d hurt more if he opened his eyes, right? It’d be a lot easier to just give himself over to the raw power clearly looking to burn and consume anything in its wake. He can’t tell what he wants anymore.

I don’t care if it hurts! Wake UP! Joe, work faster, please, I swear I’m not trying to rush you but do you hear it? The stuff he’s saying?

He doesn’t know what’s happening. Should he be awake? He tries to pry his eyes (eyes?) open, and is immediately greeted with overwhelming pain. Everything is too much, too bright too dark too cold too hot and he can’t stand it, he thinks that the overload that had been streaming through his body would almost be preferable. “Oh, thank God, you’re finally awake.” Who…?

Joe looks up from his work to glare at Mumbo. He gives a small, tight-lipped shake of the head, speaking a thousand words in a gesture. Had G-Team lost then?

“Hey. Hey. Look at me. How many fingers am I holding up.” He’s starting to recognize faces and shapes again, which means he unfortunately has the displeasure of seeing Doc’s face looming over him. “I won’t hesitate to slap you awake again.”

He opens his mouth, hoping he hasn’t forgotten how to talk, and croaks out, “Four.”

“Good. You’re awake and coherent, that’s gotta count for something—right?” Doc’s voice lilts up in worry on the last phrase, and Mumbo wonders: what exactly…happened? “You don’t know?” Oh. He’d said it aloud.

Doc’s face tightens. “To put it in short terms, you took the bolt I aimed above Grian. I was supercharged, already had been from the power I took earlier, and when that combined with you, that hit hard. Hard enough to knock you out of the air. Normally, it would’ve been fine, I like to think.” Oh. Then what— “When you fell down into the water, you took the full force of the power I’d discharged into it. Remember, I slammed my trident into the water earlier? That had kept the water sparking, electricity looking for an outlet. And, well. You happened to be there when you did.”

“Why aren’t I dead, Doc?” He thought he had been, maybe. He didn’t know.

“I think you responded that way to my powers because of the unique way our elements interact. I don’t know. Don’t care, really,” he said. His voice was tight with some emotion—anger? It seemed they’d either lost or reached some sort of draw, seeing as how Joe was currently over at his side.

“Listen, I’m really very sorry for what happened, it was a simple mistake. I’ll work in the future to avoid clashing like that, sorry—” Mumbo gets cut off by Joe standing up.

“You should be stable. Take care of yourself, Mumbo,” he says, giving him another look. “No deaths on my watch.” Joe walks over to G-Team, where Stress and Iskall are supporting a limping Grian, and starts to take the trek back to their base.

Mumbo looks to break the awkward silence settling between them. “Anyways, yeah, like I said, sorry about all that—”

Doc leans over and grabs him in an even more awkward hug, then lets go in an instant.

“I, uh, —”

“Listen. I wasn't mad because we didn’t win the battle or whatever. I was worried, understand?”

Mumbo sits in silence.

“A good leader looks out for their team. Remember that. And, for what it’s worth? I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

This had to be the worst day Stress has had in a long time.

Early in the morning, she filled a backpack full of water from around her fortress and froze it into solid ice. It was freezing cold against her spine, water seeping through her cardigan. With the cold water seizing up her muscles, she leaped through the nether portal in the basement of her fortress.

The effect was immediate as the purple haze cleared from her brain. Any water on her clothes evaporated quickly away, but the ice in her pack stayed frozen. She knew as long as she stayed away from any fire or warmth, she would be just fine, at least for a long while. The bag constantly sizzled as anything that melted off of the ice evaporated quickly, making her constantly look like she was on fire from a distance.

There were chests in the nether that lined the walls, filled with concrete and carpets and glass. End be damned if she couldn’t at least help a little with the nether hub, even if she wouldn’t be using it very often. She grabbed a few stacks of glass, slowly feeling the weight of her heavy bag push down her shoulders and started to ache.

She had gotten through three stacks of glass before she was starting to sweat much more than what was healthy. Her mouth was dry as a desert and she could feel bile in her throat. The ice was not working. She felt like she was going to throw up.

She dropped the bag of ice on the ground, hearing it sizzle as she sprinted towards the nearest portal. She felt light headed and dizzy. Her skin felt like it was melting.

Stress leaped through an unlabeled portal without checking where on the map she was, landing on the overworld with a thump as her chest made contact with the ground. She suddenly felt cold, but still massively dehydrated. She struggled to stand dizzy and nauseous.

“Stress?” a voice called from somewhere that she could make out with her mind in a haze. “Are you okay? How long were you in the nether?”

The voice was getting closer and she could hear footsteps on grass. She braced herself on the portal, feeling the cool obsidian glass on her fingertips that slowly froze at the touch again. She opened her eyes, not remembering when she closed them. Walking towards her was Grian. She sat in front of iTrade, the building towering her in her dizzy state.

“Stress, are you okay?” Grian asked, putting a hand on Stress’ shoulder.

“Um,” she muttered, her voice quieter than normal. “No? Don’t think so.”

“Sit down, don’t throw up,” he said quickly, making an attempt to guide her towards the ground.

She sat on the grass in front of the portal. There was still morning dew on the ground that soaked her. She quickly froze it over, not wanting to get her clothes wet. She heard Grian rush away to who knows where as she sat there. The only sound was the fluctuation of the portal.

Grian didn’t take too long to get back. By the time he did, Stress at her knees pulled up against her chest and the entire ground around her had covered up with a layer of frost that mad the gravel crunch under his feet as he ran back to her.

He crouched down next to her, the morning dew melting at his touch, and handed her a glass bottle of cold water. “Drink it slowly or you’ll throw it back up,” he told her.

Stress barely managed to control herself from drinking all of it at once. She nursed it slowly, her head was still light and was starting to ache, but she took that as a good sign. She slowly drank it down and eventually, Grian brought her a new bottle of water before telling her that he had to go work on something and that she shouldn’t overwork herself at all. She only gave a mute nod and continued to drink the cool water.

About thirty minutes after she left the nether, she felt much better than she had, the moisture in the air and the ice at her fingertips helping her more than she thought it would. She still had a headache that pushed against the back of her eyes and she was a bit dizzy when she first stood up but she was able to quickly take off with her elytra. She wondered if the wind felt bad with her, considering it only took one rocket to take off.

She felt incredibly frustrated. The ice was supposed to work. She’d tested it before for shorter periods of time and she never felt any effects. She wasn’t able to help more than the smallest fraction with the nether hub. She was at a loss. A loss of daylight and a loss of resources.

As she flew over the shopping district, she remembered that she was out of quartz and quickly landed in the central area of the stores, just at the foot of the pond of dead coral and just out of reach of Captain Etho.

She first checked the Grian’s shop, it was the closest. All bought out. She then checked Zedaph’s. Nothing left. Her headache was getting worse as she realized that she would have to find some other way to get quartz, and there was no way she was going back into the nether.

She grabbed a small device out from her pocket and started to type out.

StressMonster101: does anybody have quartz? I can pay.

She didn’t expect a response, so she went to take off back to her base. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she was in the hair, unable to grab anything from her pack. She felt a buzz in her pocket too, indicating that someone was all texting the device. She sighed and quickly landed somewhere in the medieval district. It was hard to see anything past the forest that surrounded her.

rendog: I have some quartz I could give you for 2 diamonds per stack.

Rendog: Not blocks.

StressMonster101: Thank you! Are you at your base?

rendog: At the village I’m working on.

Stress pursed her lips. She, firstly, didn’t know where that was and, secondly, didn’t know why Ren would think that she would.

StressMonster101: I don’t know where that is

rendog: Meet me in the shopping district

She gave out a slight sigh and took off again straight up. The rush of the air in her ears made her head pound and she squeezed her eyes shut as she ascended. She could just barely hear the faint sound of a firework going off as she broke the tree line and shot up into the sky. As she felt the cold air rush against her and throw her air back, she also heard a faint yelling in the distance. Unable to open her eyes against the wind, she turned down for a slow dive and opened her eyes once more.

She only got a fraction of a second to see a red and brown object speeding towards her and making an impact with her side, sending her and the object falling to the ground. Judging by the familiar screaming it also gave as they began to fall, the object that hit her was indeed Ren colliding with her midair.

Both of them tried to pull up, but the tug Stress felt on her shoulder strap that kept the Elytra on her made her quickly realize how quickly Ren and she had gotten tangled up in their wings. Looking down at the quickly approaching tree line, she also realized how quickly they were descending into the trees.

They weren’t very high off the ground in the first place, making their fall through the trees quick, but not as painful as it could have been. In the blink of an eye and the snap of a few tree branches, Stress found herself back on the forest floor, all the wind knocked out of her and her elytra still strapped securely on her back. She couldn’t say the same for Ren. There was groaning coming from a few feet higher in the trees and when Stress looked up, she could see her fellow hermit draped over a tree limb, missing both his elytra and his bag.

It took a few seconds for Stress to compose herself. Pushing herself off of the ground and trying to clear her head of the headache that was only growing. The ground was covered in frost already, some reaching up against the trunks of the trees around her like climbing vines. Her elytra felt much heavier due to the fact both Ren’s elytra and bag were attached to it. Slowly, she detached it from her back and untangled the items before readdressing the RenDog in the tree.

In her busy work, Ren head started to get up and was leaning against the trunk of the tree. The light around him was darker than it should have been like a shadow was cast over him that wasn’t actually there. He held his head in pain, along with his stomach where he had hit the tree branch.

“Are you alive?” Stress asked, still sitting on the grass inside of standing.

“Barely,” Ren joked, opening his eyes. He was quick to compose himself and jump down from the tree, barely wincing at the pain that shot up through his legs from the rough landing. “So, you needed some quartz?”

They both laughed the pain away, commencing a small and quick trade. Stress’ head still was splitting with pain, though, so the quicker that transaction could take place, the better. More than ever did she wish the railway was finished so she could take that inside of trying to fly back to her base without crashing into the side of buildings. Which is something that she did several times. She clipped against the corner of one of ConCorp’s farms and one of the icebergs around her and Iskall’s base. Eventually, though, she landed on the top of her base.

She decided that it would probably be best to sleep this headache away rather than do any work, lest the odd lighting of the lower tunnels send her head spiraling in pain more than it already was. She descended down to the basement, where most of her things still were as she hadn’t moved much of it since finishing most of the actual base.

As she reached the ground, she looked out on an entire mess of things. As usual, there were snow golems everywhere, but significantly less than normal as the nether portal was still open.

“Damn it!” she yelled in frustration, her headache peaking in pain. The frozen ground rippled and wavered, sending shock waves up the wall. Where the ripples concentrated, towering spikes of ice grew from the walls and floor and ceiling. It skewered golems, broke the portal, and threw chests onto their side.

She immediately felt an incoming call buzzing in her pocket. She quickly clicked the button on the side, sending the call to her earpiece. At first, all she heard was rushing water, the sound easing her head temporarily before a voice cut in.

“Hey, Stress,” Iskall said in a slightly nervous tone. It was very hard to hear him, he seemed to be underwater. “The surface of the water above my base has seemed to frozen over and I can’t get out.”

“Are you okay?” Stress asked quickly, her bad mood turning to panic that made the ice spikes shrink and twist into sharper, spindly shapes that curled into thorny vines. “I’m coming right over.”

“Hey, chill out,” he joked. “It’s super cold down here but I have a conduit. Calm down for a bit, I just wanted to see if you were alright.”

Stress sighed, her shoulders dropping in relief. She sat down on her bed and flopped backward. Her legs dangled off the side as she laid horizontal with her bed. She pulled a pillow over from the top of it and set it under her head, feeling almost immediate relief.

“I have a really bad headache and some of my snow golems wandered into the nether because I didn’t close the portal,” she complained. “I also wasn’t able to get enough quartz and almost passed out in the nether… It hasn’t been a great day.”

She heard ice breaking on the other end, making the pain in her head spike suddenly. She visibly winced, but the sound of water went away and the sound of the cold wind replaced it.

“That sounds like a horrible day!” Iskall sympathized, no longer muffled by water. “I’ll be over soon with soup and healing potions.”

Stress laughed and curly up in her bed, throwing a few blankets over herself. “I’m fine now, getting some rest,” she assured. “You don’t need to come over.”

“If you say so…” Iskall said, trailing off slightly. “Talk to you later, Stress.”

“See you later,” Stress said, hanging up as she drifted off into sleep.

Stress awoke to whispers and she thought she was going crazy. Her eyes snapped open to the cold, open area of her basement and quickly scanned over every inch of her base. Chests were still thrown to the side but the ice spikes that head grown from every available surface head melted into slightly risen ice humps that made the floor uneven and bumpy in some places. It hadn’t been the first time this had happened.

She sighed, calming down from her surprise of waking up. She laid back down, staring at the ceiling of her base and the imposing height above her. She saw wings flapping at the ceiling as she closed her eyes to go back to sleep.

Her eyes snapped open and she sat upright in bed, looking up towards the flapping wings. High above her head were three figures, trying poorly to blend into the dark ceiling. Flying up there was a Grian holding an Iskall and a Ren in hand. Iskall was shushing both Grian and Ren, who were whispering, a sound that echoed off of the walls of the basement without much effort.

“Quiet, quiet!” Iskall tried, exclaiming it a bit too loud.

“Guys, she clearly sees us,” Ren said.

Ren was the first to let go of Grian, gliding down on his own elytra and landing on top of the messy pile of chests that Stress was going to have to clean up. Grain flew down, bringing Iskall with him as they both landed on the semi-solid ground of ice.

“We brought soup!” Grian exclaimed, fishing a canister from his pack, along with a couple of bowls.

“And cookies!” Ren added, grabbing a small sack from his side bag.

“And quartz,” Iskall said, taking a shulker box out and setting it on the ground next to her.

Stress swung her legs out of bed, taking the blanket with her as she sat on its edge. She tapped twice on the shulker box and looked inside. Inside was 19 stacks of quartz slabs. Just what she needed to finish the tunnel.

The smile on her face was as bright as the sun. She threw her blanket off, the fabric landing in a pile at the foot of her bed. She leaped over the shulker box and threw herself at Grian and Iskall, who were the closest to her, being actually on the ground and not on a pile of chests. The hug was clunky, Grian and Iskall’s shoulders making hard contact and Stress hitting her forehead against Iskall’s ear, but her chest bubbled with happiness from everything that surrounded her.

“Awe, I don’t get a hug?” Ren asked, climbing down from the pile.

“Get in here you dunce!” Stress exclaimed, laughing along with Grian and Iskall.