Chapter Text
If Dream had no other qualities worth mentioning, he could talk for hours. Martyn had found a good place to settle down but was unable to get a word in edgewise that he didn’t need any help, thank you. That led to Martyn being practically dragged around the server until night had nearly fallen. Then Dream gave him a half stack of oak planks and wished him another warm welcome to the server.
Yeah, Martyn was kind of bitter. After sprinting to the area he’d had in mind for a base, he lit a couple of torches he’d grabbed from a random chest.
The area he’d chosen was a hill that was surrounded on three sides by a river, and Martyn quickly got to work making a hut to stay in and some basic wooden tools.. He flattened the top of the hill, then used the rest of the planks to form a meagre house.
Martyn crafted a door and placed it in the entrance. As soon as he determined that it was structurally sound and spy-proof, he hung the last of his torches on the walls and pulled out the inky book and opened it to the beginning. Stamped on the inside of the cover were two names in white ink: Wilbur Soot and Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit.
It was helpful to know which Players he would have to look out for. He flipped it open to the beginning, where it listed all of the people and their relationships to Wilbur and Tommy. Martyn skipped past the ones he didn’t need yet, absentmindedly noting them for the future. He stopped when he reached the name that had come up in his conversation with Dream.
That’s why the name Eret had sounded familiar to him. Gossip spread like wildfire through hardcore servers, and anyone who single handedly set up a killing room for five people on a server with a population of fifty was widely regarded as a threat.
Nothing about Eret’s house had seemed like a veteran’s base though. It could easily catch fire, and it wasn’t large enough to hold anything worth defending. Something wasn’t adding up. He’d talk to this Eret after he’d gotten enough armour to not be caught by surprise.
For now, Martyn would have to wait for morning to get any of that started. He leaned back and started reading about the war for L’Manberg’s Independance.
When the sun started to lighten the sky, Martyn exited his hut and immediately started chopping down some trees. It would help him get some torches once he created a furnace to make charcoal.
With a final swing of his axe, he finished collecting a half stack of wood. It would be enough for what he needed.
Using the crafting table he’d placed inside of his camp, he made a pickaxe. Martyn walked to the edge of his cleared area and started digging the beginnings of a mine.
After a while, he fell into a rhythm and kept absentmindedly digging. He realised his mistake when he slipped off the edge of a crumbling stone into a hole he just opened.
He reacted the next second, instinctively reaching for a bucket that wasn’t there because he’d died and didn’t have one anymore. He hit the ground and felt the jolt of a too hard landing sapping away some of his life force. Martyn hadn’t thought of food, so now he needed to get out of wherever he landed.
Thinking quickly, he lit one of his new torches and stared at the hall that surrounded him. He had fallen into a mineshaft.
He placed the torch under where he’d landed, and immediately started looking around, grabbing his sword and keeping it ready. Martyn could find food later. This was a good find, if it wasn’t already looted. Eventually, he came across a chest in a minecart. Crossing his fingers, he opened it.
He’d gotten lucky. It had an iron pickaxe which he gladly traded his cobblestone one for. It also had some bread that he started eating.
Martyn was about to call it a good trip and find his way back to the surface when he felt something sink its fangs into his shoulder. He was startled, but pulled out his sword and slashed at the spider, then felt his knees buckle as a wave of pain crashed through his system. Cave spider, then. He backed up as it lunged for him, and he took another swipe at it, missing.
Another spider came around a corner, and he knew he had to make this fast. He stabbed the first spider, then hissed back at the second as it made a pass for his knees. It hesitated momentarily as if confused, but sank its mandibles in anyway. He stabbed it twice in its face as fast as he could, killing it. The magic holding his sword together was dispersed in that second, leaving him and the first spider.
Thinking quickly, he pulled his new pickaxe out to finish off the first one, grabbing his torches from his inventory as he swung down. He turned the corner, barely slowing to pick up their eyes. Crashing through the cobwebs that stuck to his face, he sprinted towards the spawner.
As he reached it, he flung out the torches just a second too late; another one had escaped the confines of the spawner. He circled around it, willing to take his time until the rest of the previous poison had worked itself out. As soon as it did, he struck.
Swinging at it, he rolled to the side as it tried to counterattack. He swung again, but only managed to get a glancing blow. The spider hissed and lunged at his throat, but Martyn was able to get his pickaxe between them in time.
As it died, he strode forward and swung his pickaxe at the spawner, not stopping until it was a mangled mess of magic. He wasn’t going to risk any accidents. He replaced the torch, and took a look around.
He dug the rest of the bread he’d pocketed out as he spotted a chest behind some cobwebs, eating it as he slowly worked his way over.
As he lifted the lid, he expected something normal, like seeds or rails. What he wasn't expecting was an embossed music disc leaning against the inside of the chest.
He picked it up and ran his fingers over the label. It was peeling, but the yellow and white was unmistakable. Martyn had found Music Disc 13. He remembered Etho pranking people by playing it around their bases. It reminded him of a better time, before Reds, before Grian.
He slipped it into his inventory and focused on leaving the cave in one piece. He didn’t have time to be hung up on his past mistakes. Besides, if he did this for Lady Death, he’d have a second chance.
After he’d left and put some of his more unimportant finds in his base, he’d asked a player, Alyssa if there was anywhere that he could listen to it. She’d laughed and pointed him in the direction of a bench on a hill. She’d even given him enough wool for a bed.
Martyn placed it into the jukebox and leaned back. It was about as relaxing as he dared to get.
Now, that’s not to say he wasn’t paranoid; that would be a lie. He was appropriately on edge, which was just enough to stop someone from taking his disc from the jukebox.
He grabbed their wrist before they could reach for a weapon. Martyn hadn’t seen them around, but that didn’t mean anything yet. They were wearing a black and white swirled hoodie that reminded him of Unus and Annus, minor Gods of time and the end of all things.
“Who are you and what do you want?” He bit out. Martyn was tired and just wanted to relax. He didn’t care about whoever this was.
The stranger bared his teeth in a facsimile of a smile. “I’m Karl Jacobs. And I want you to stop messing with the proper order of things.”