So! after 4 days of sleep deprieved editing and writing. and a computer crash! CONTENT. and if you see grammar errors, no you do not <3
block lore goes brrrrr
Bad flicked through the open tabs on his communicator, lost in thought. They've had an shortage on iron for a while and he decided to try and streamline their iron production for a bit. He had bits and pieces of what he needed and enough practice with admin magic to bridge the gap of what he needed. He ran over all the materials mentally again before a hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Hey Bad- I'm heading off-world now."
"Hmm- Oh yeah-," Bad mumbled trying to acknowledge the sheep hybrid as best he could, "Umm- is Drake heading with you?"
"Bad... Drake left yesterday-" Whisper said softly, "Are you sure you'll be okay? and when did you sleep last?-" Concern was intertwined in every word out of their lips.
"I'll be fine, Wisp- Go say hi to your friends. I can handle myself. And I'll rest after this." Bad said gesturing to the materials on the table in front of him, "I'll be fine, i promise." Sleepless lies dripped off his slurring words.
"Mkay-" Whisper said doubtfully believing him. In a flash of magic, they were gone.
<Whispered_Sleep left the world>
Bad sighed, as the tiredness hit him. When had he last slept? When was the last time he relaxed and let his body reset that wasn't a respawn?
He couldn't stop now. He couldn't be a burden. He had to be productive and contribute. Or Whisper and Drake might just leave and not find a reason to come back....
Shaking the thoughts from his head he mined down through their mineshaft until his pickaxe struck bedrock. He muttered something in a language he barely remembered as he hit the unbreakable rock.
~~
He watched entranced with the miners as they lead him down the long underground tunnels. He just turned 16, old enough to contribute to the village, so the workers have taken to showing him around their jobs. He's taken a kin to most of the jobs but building and mining have always interested him the most. With a knack to technology and magic to boot, he landed himself a jack of all trades job. He mostly wandered about the sites and helping out where needed. He loved it. He could contribute to and help the place he lived now. He wasn't a burden anymore, he was a helper. He was Of Good Idelas, helper of his town and part of the village.
~~
Bad collected the ashes from the bedrock, It pulsed with something different then normal.
Grains of Infinity, his communicator called it.
Gathering the rest of the materials was easy enough. Crafting each part and tugging against the world’s magic with his own admin magic he felt each part meld to each other.
It ached against his tired form, it twisted through unpracticed shaking hands. Steeling himself harder against the brunt of the new magic. It sparked uncomfortably, it was unlike the ones he was familiar with.
He felt a surge shoot through his body before he was blown back from the crafting table.
Bad coughed as he rolled from the bed he laid in. Ignoring the aches of the respawn and his dazed head, he raced back to where he was working.
A small crater where he once stood, a grave just as close. He picked up the finished generator at the seared crafting table, wincing at the hot newly formed metal.
The final piece of the machine he was building- He plopped it next to the sag mill and alloy smelter and slowly started connecting the power to them. Choosing to finish his job before getting his things from his grave.
He ignored the smell of burnt flesh and magic permeating the room. He ignored the thoughts swarming in his head. His memories were always harsh after he died.
~~
The young man shot awake from his floor ridden cot to the sounds of shouts. He was a soldier now. Forced to the main kingdom for a war he never agreed to. Scrambling for his uniform he tried to ignore the memories of his village pushing him into the carriage just weeks before. He was a burden to them, not helping enough anymore. They abandoned him to the rich wolves looking for fresh blood to force to war. He was never good at fighting yet here he stood a sword getting shoved into his hands.
“-ot Of Idelas!” he heard his name be called from the general, shaking him from his thoughts. He wasn’t part of his village anymore, He wasn’t a 16 year old jack of all trades the townspeople all took a liking to anymore. He was an 18 year old solider fed into battle for being useless. The people part of the castle cared not for you. They cared for the swords you could swing, the hits you could take. And the blood you could shed.
He was just a townsperson Of Idelas. Another face in a war and he was abandoned for not being enough.
~~
Bad groaned as he struggled to rewire the system again. He swore that the answer was right infront of him. But between the respawn and his shaking hands, he couldn’t manage to do it.
Raking his hand through his already messy hair, Bad stood up from his spot in front of the machines and generators. Glancing towards the window, he glared at the sun streaking towards the floor; A reminder of the time he never noticed passed. Turning towards the mess he created earlier, he jumped into the small crater and looked towards his grave.
Eyes wide and frozen to the spot, memories slammed into him like waves. His breath caught in against the silent sobs in his throat. His heartbeat grew heavier and harder in his chest, an all too real reminder of his time left.
Bad crumpled to floor.
~~
His eyes shot open as he took his first breath in months. He awoke in a small crater, a creeper explosion if the plant remains were anything to go by. He shakily pushed himself up, trying to grasp onto the remains of his dream.
He was dead. He was supposed to be dead. He knew that, through all the haze in his head, He knew for a fact he was supposed to be dead.
Looking at the small destroyed grave stone, he glanced at his name.
“-f Bad Id-”
His name was Bad, and he was supposed to be dead.
He walked towards an abandoned house as he gripped what remained of him.
A destroyed mask, the small purple flower that laid in front of his grave and a decaying body.
~~
Bad awoke to a small crater and a gravestone. Shakily pushing himself up, he gathered his items and began to fill in the hole. Lost in thought, Bad tried not to focus on the force of life weighing on him.
He raced through his still panicking thoughts.
His name is Bad.
He was alive.
He was in a magical world.
He had two people on this world. Drake and Wisp.
He loved them
His name was Bad.
He came from a world of stone with Drake and Wisp.
He knew magic, technology, and how to survive.
He was working on producing more iron.
His name is Bad.
He was at home.
He was alive.
He was breathing.
He is alive.
He is breathing.
He just respawned.
His name is Bad.
He couldn’t remember his past or why he named himself.
Maybe it’s because that’s all he remembers from his life.
Maybe because that’s what he found written on his gravestone.
Maybe it’s because he only views himself as that.
Or maybe it’s because he learned what being called Bad meant in the language he once spoke, and thats all he thought of himself as.
His name was Bad and he was dead.
He is dying again.
His name was Bad
And He is Dead.
His connection to this world was fading
His name was Bad.
And soon he would have to leave the people he loved.
