#minecraft abiogenesis

[illwilledomen]

New theudy ref

[illwilledomen]

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[illwilledomen]

Reinard and Theudofrid Clericson, ages 18 and 16.

[illwilledomen]

NEW STORY ALERT!

“Furly, a wandering trader with a dark past.

Temperance, a nitwit villager yearning for something more.

Paul, a strange visitor with a target on their back.”

Peep it on Ao3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/70171861/chapters/182199371

[illwilledomen]

Outbreak

The Thaumaturge is brought to an outpost town to deal with a zombie outbreak.

———————

The mantelpiece was marred with white, bloodied marks. It looked like the frantic scratching and pawing of some trapped animal.

Herold the Thaumaturge fitted his mask. It was an odd thing, long and beaked, packed full of fragrant herbs. He smoothed down his front, furrowing his brows.

“She’s in here, milord.” A young pillager approached the evoker. “No one else in the house except the brother and the mother.”

Herold’s eyes wandered to the kitchen door. That awful smell stung his nostrils, even now. It never seemed to leave. “Thank you.” He nodded, taking a deep breath, before going in.

The girl rocked back and forth, over and over and over again.

She had been doing it when he’d entered, and he’d heard her bed squeaking in the living room. Beads of sweat erupted on her bald head. Her usually grey skin was sallow, almost a lime green, and she seemed to be grating the inside of her cheek open with her teeth.

“Good morning.”

Her head jerked at the sound of a voice, and she let out a low moan. She quicklt seemed to calm at the sound - soft, handsome, but unfamiliar.

“How are you feeling?”

She rocked back and forth, once, twice, before stopping. “Sick, sick.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Herold tilted his head. “What’s your name, my dear?”

“Ff— No,I— Franny, Fran.” She winced, her lip trembling. “Are you from a mansion?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to help me?”

“Indeed I am. We have very special medicine for you.” The old man’s eyes wrinkled with a smile. It carried no joy, but the girl didn’t know it. Her eyes were distant, foggy. Fearful.

“My brother made me sick.”

“Your brother?”

“He’s poisoning me. He put things in my food.”

Herold grimaced below his mask. The pillagers had found the brother, all right. The sight had made a seasoned captain’s breakfast come up. He had been there long enough to stain the floor.

“Oh, dear,” Herold gently took her hand. “That sounds terribly frightening, Franny.”

“Please help me,” The girl sniffled, “Please, I’m sick.”

“Shh.” Herold gently took her chin in his gloved hand, “Open your mouth please, my darling.”

Franny opened her mouth, her shoulders jerking. Her teeth were stained a blackened rust, and her mouth was bone dry. Old blood. Herold could tell, even when his keen proboscis was muffled with herbs.

“Will your father be home soon, Franny?”

Franny closed her mouth. “I saw him this, this, last night.” She fumbled with her sleeve, pulling it up. “He gave me a kiss.”

Her wrist was a swollen, blackened mass, and if Herold squinted, he could make out that characteristic bite mark.

The pillagers had told the old evoker that the girl’s father, a soldier himself, hadn’t been seen on duty in a week and five days.

“Are you going to make me better again, milord?”

Herold’s chest tightened. Her eyes were large, bloodshot, and so, so afraid. They seemed unable to fix in one place. She began to rock again.

“Yes, Franny.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Wait here. I shall get your medicine, and you’ll be all better.”

“Ho-kay,” Hiccupped the girl, beginning to chew her cheek again.

Herold rose to his feet and slowly approached the door, slipping through it. The girl kept rocking.

The pillager captain approached him, looking grave and paler than usual. “Can she be cured, milord?”

Herold’s voice was barely above a whisper. “How many golden apples?”

“Five, sir.”

He fished around in his coat, and procured his prize. A flask. He slipped the mask off, revealing his haggard, bony face, and took a long swig. “Burn the whole house down.”

The pillager furrowed his thick brows. “But sir—“

“The bite was black.” He grimaced, wrinkling his nose, “She’ll be brain-dead by tomorrow. It’s this or your whole outpost.”

The pillager drew back, clutching his crossbow with white knuckles. His features tightened. “Very well, lord Thaumaturge. Glory to the Empire.”

“Glory to the Empire.”

The house was nothing now, a distant, hazy plume of smoke and fire and ash. Herold’s eyes followed the black cloud as it spiraled, upwards, higher, into the blue sky.

“You did the right thing, old sport.”

Herold cast a narrowed expression up to the source of the voice. A pair of eyes stared out from under a wide-brimmed hat.

“It was her.” Was all he could muster. “The patrol… She used her blood to attract the dead.” He paused, swaying, “I taught her. How zombies swarmed.” He took a shallow breath, “Clever girl.”

The Soothsayer ran his hand over the old man’s shoulders, a repetitive motion. Herold leaned into it, mindless to the sensation of tender touch.

“It has gone too far.” Lilted the bright-eyed man, “Men, women, with children. Families.”

“I.. I caused this.”

The Soothsayer’s voice lowered, as he craned down to meet his ear. “You only loved her, doctor.”

Herold trembled, bile in his throat.

“It is not a crime to love. But a machine is not capable of it.” Lazuli shook his head gently, tutting, “There is only one solution to stopping the bloodshed.”

“N-no,” The doctor shook his head, sobbing. The magician wrapped his cloak around Herold’s frail form. “Alex.”

“I know…” He murmured, a voice silky as warm water. “I’m sorry. But the great Empire’s best interest is our own. For your sake, doctor.”

Herold stared ahead through misty eyes, watching the flames climb higher and higher.

“The player…” The Soothsayer’s breath, cold and dry, ghosted Herold’s cheek, “Must die.”

[illwilledomen]

Theud in his twenties-early thirties, before the ravager attack. Not completely crazy yet, but still an awful, obsessive sadist. Tries very hard to compensate for his villager heritage and so exaggeratedly embodies the ideal illager aristocrat. He also does this to try and impress his professor, Herold, who he admires (perhaps a little too much).

[illwilledomen]

What are Lazulis pronouns? Also the redesigns are cool

He/him primarily but you use whatever you like, he has no personal gender and fluidly adapts to whatever is convenient for him, such is the case with void beings (whom he worships) who, on the rare occasion they assume genders, will do so as a tool for communication.

E.G - Assuming a masculine, paternal identity in a patriarchal society in order to be viewed as an authority, and vice versa for matriarchal societies. If gender is a solid concept in their environment, they will adapt and use it as a tool.

For example, The Orb of Dominance selected the Seer, a sow, amongst piglin’s as it was a matriarchal society, and selected a male illager host (Archie) who had hangups about his own masculinity in the illager empire, a patriarchal society.

This is more nuanced tho I will get into the gender roles of each society at some point. All this to say, Lazuli is gender fluid, currently a man because the empire is patriarchal, but happily assumes other genders in different environments. A ‘When In Rome’ type of a situation.

[ryans-artblog]

mc but make it realistic and historically accurate (ish) >>>

Haven't posted here in a sec, continuing my realistic interpretations of chars :) check my blog for mlp as actual horse breeds ^^

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