#stone statues

You turn away. You don’t know them, and it’s impolite to stare at people. Obviously. You catch a glimpse of a tall Pronghorn hybrid, unique forked horns and bent legs, and some lady in an immaculately pressed blue suit. Other than that, they’re none of your business. 

You ignore their raucous giggling and head off down the path, heading towards the shadow dome. It’s huge, a diseased tick burrowed into the landscape. Black glass and deepslate and copper, a gorgeous pattern that stretches all across the surface. It’s entrancing. 

Between you and the dome, though, is a rather large forest. Joe built that, you know. You watched him do it. In a rare peek behind the curtain, Joe broadcast himself building that forest- naming trees after people who donated to a good cause. You don’t remember what cause exactly, but it’s beautiful all the same. 

As you walk through the winding woods, you smile at the dozens of strange names on all the trees. None of them are yours, but hey; that’s fine. 

And then….

At the base of a particularly large and impressive tree, you see it. 

It’s perfect. Carved from marble, no plinth and no paint. It’s so lifelike you’re a bit confused when it doesn’t take a breath. 

It’s a stone statue of Joe Hills, leaned against a tree. He’s holding a book in one hand, and a stone ender pearl in the other. You draw closer, looking the carving over. He’s immaculate- you can’t see a single chisel mark or scratch on him. 

But then, this is no carving. You’ve got enough magic in your blood to taste the tang of spells rolling off the statue. That’s a magical sculpture, and it’s wonderful. 

You snap a picture with your comm and continue along the path.

It’s a lovely day for a walk, and you’re just about to start humming something to yourself when you’re interrupted by a loud and obnoxious buzzing from overhead.

Something cold and wet slams into the back of your head. 

You yelp in terror, spinning around to see- 

A huge wasp hybrid is hovering overhead, and they cackle at you, flinging another snowball that smacks you in the face. 

“Get some wings, dumbass!” Comes the raucous jeer, and they buzz off with a sound like a weedwhacker on full tilt. 

You rub the back of your head irately. They do have a point, however nasty. You’ll go find some elytra someplace- there has to be a shop selling them. Somewhere or other, surely. You sigh and keep walking. 

After a while of letting your anger simmer, you finally arrive at the steps of the Shadow Dome. It’s beautiful- but what catches your eye more than that is a chestmonster off to the side. It’s A pile of multicoloured shulker boxes, and you grin. 

You’re getting a bit hungry, and you need something to pay for the elytra when you find the shop, after all. Stealing…well, your papa raised you right. And you know enough about the hermits to know that they place a lot of stock in the honour system. 

A few minutes of fumbling leads you to success- a stack of baked potatoes and eleven diamonds. Perfect. Chestmonsters were pretty well trashcans, after all, and if Doc (you’re certain it’s him based on the green fur clinging to some of the boxes) didn’t bother gathering these resources back up, well. 

Probably wouldn’t be missed. 

Now, the dome. Clambering laboriously over the stone wall, you take a few minutes to just admire it. It’s beautiful- breathtaking how Doc managed to make a three dimensional oval with an overlaid octagonal pattern out of cubes. Just a masterpiece. 

You step through the doors, and find yourself greeted with another gorgeous statue. This one is Doc, his bionics captured flawlessly in the smooth marble. He’s leaning against his trident, a delighted smirk on his face. There’s a hand outstretched, showing off his creation. 

You climb the ladder to stare at the huge mass of rails and redstone. The update suppressor, in all of its glory. One man, labouring alone to make this horrid mess of metal and wire, to bend the world around him to his whims. 

It’s honestly terrifying, to stand there and stare at it.

A rocket cracks outside, and you whip your head around to see-

The woman in the blue suit crashes into the ground, cackling and charging into the room. 

“Alright, alright, Peska, wait up!” someone yells behind her. 

“Snooze ya lose! I got this one!” 

“What are you doing?” you ask, internally raging at the fact that your one fleeting chance to explore this place is being actively stymied by a bunch of well-dressed wannabe lager louts. 

In response, she- Peska?- just cackles. Her elytra gleam with enchantments, which- you’ve barely been here an hour, there’s no way she’s managed to get enough levels or enough emeralds to possibly enchant a fresh set, which means-

And then Peska clambers to the top of the update suppressor and upends a bucket of water over the whole thing. 

You watch, mouth agape, as the water pours all across the delicate sandstone machinery, washing the rails off their foundations and ruining the redstone. The stench of seawater slaps your nose, and you round on her, hackles up and eyes narrowed. 

“What the hell was that?!” you roar, “You! Clean this up! You’re fixing all that, right now!” 

Peska smirks at you. 

“Says who?” She asks, and you growl and clench your fists. 

“Says me. Knock it off!” 

“...Nah. Don’t think I will. Guess you didn’t get the memo- we’re here to trash the place. Sorry to break it to you.”

“Okay but…why?!” you protest, “What’s the point? The hermits spent ages and ages building it all, and you’re just going around wrecking everything!” 

“Because we can. And because it’s fun. Do you need any better reason?” 

“I…” You stare at her blankly, because, well, what the hell are you supposed to say in response to that? ‘Stop it you’re being a jackass?’ ‘Stop it you’re ruining my one chance to see this place properly?’ ‘How the hell did you cretins get past the vetting process?’

“Anyway…” 

Peska pulls out a netherite sword that gleams with enchantments, and you take a step back. 

“You still wanna argue?” she asks brightly. 

You glance at your inventory, containing a stack of baked potatoes and eleven (11) diamonds. 

“Uh, no, actually,” you say nervously, “Actually, I was- I was just- leaving-” 

“Smart. Tell you what, you do your little tour, and then you’ll go and tell the whole damn world about us, alright? Pals 4 Lyfe, that’s what we’re called.”

You stare at her. 

You bite down on a long string of caustic comments about how you don’t even know her name, or any of her friend’s names, or how nobody’s going to be impressed by this senseless destruction. 

Also their name is cringe and you’ve never heard it before but frankly that’s a bit low on the priority list. What circle of Anarchy Hell did these dickheads spawn from? The seventh?

Instead, you jump off the platform (landing hard on your ankles in the process, OW) and sprint for the door. 

You skid to a stop right by the statue of Doc. 

Because. Because he’s put his arm down? 

The statue has its arm down. You’re pretty sure it didn’t have its arm down when you walked in. 

He’s turned to look up at the update suppressor. You swallow nervously. 

You can taste the magic rolling off the statue.