She's… strangely determined. It's… unnerving, but refreshing. She wants to make a "new home, my way"—I heard her muttering it a few times when she gathered up what was left of her belongings.
She just told the both of us that we're leaving. When Lexan asked where to, she just gruffed out "somewhere safe."
Our home village has burned down, and one of our own has gone missing.
For certain, this tragedy is not to be mistaken as fortune. Despite that, I am thankful for the many midnight trips I took to make my repeated copies of what I have written here. Of course, I wish none of this happened at all. Some twenty, thirty full volumes were in that collection. All copied, all protected. Still, that doesn't stop my heart from hurting when I see the few ash-crisped pages left.
For about three years, I have tinkered with mechanics and designs for a new single-block mechanism. I truly believe it will bring a new revolution in redstone engineering. I’ve given it a simple name: the crafter.
My first foray into deep automation with my crafter invention has not been as simple as I thought, and it all seems to come down to logic.
I had often complained to myself that I’ve been in a constant need of more books. In time, the idea struck that I put my new crafters to use, and create a system that makes these books for me. On top of that I wanted to implement an automatic, on-demand storage solution for blank books and inking books. As soon as I would take books out of my full storage, my crafting setup would spin up, making just enough books to fill to capacity.
Lexan has tried two times, now. His machine hasn’t worked either time. These machines are so complex; there’s no reason to try helping. So for the time being, I’m organizing the massive collection of boats.
We’ve made good progress towards this network. This underground tunnel, Point Alpha and Beta, will possibly serve as the hub, pointing in the four cardinal directions. This is a momentary setback, but I’m sure Lexan will be able to figure it out.
My home is gone. I wasn’t able to warn them. I was foolish to think they would not attack. I should have protected them more. I should have stayed to fight.
I could see the smoke, even from Point Beta. Too focused on the failure of a launcher to even notice my own home burning away. Foolish.
I’m only writing this to bide the time. To not think about these idiots that destroyed my fortress.
They will suffer and burn in the same way
Nothing was left. The golems were taken down. Buildings were smoldering. I didn’t see a single body.
There was an explosion. I begged, pleaded that it wasn’t what I thought it was—a derailed Minecraft, a broken farm—something. But it was impossible to deny.
The first launcher has been created. In all truth, I thought this new ruler to be nothing but an overtaker, but I have been proven wrong time and again. I was able to test this new technology he had touted so highly. I had never felt anything like it—shot thousands of blocks forward in just a mere moment. While I felt nauseous, I was still so exhilarated by the feeling of travel in a near instantaneous moment.
I haven't heard or seen anything like it. I was organizing shelves within my personal library, when I heard something awful. By pure instinct it caused me to draw my sword. A piercing growl rumbled through both air and earth, penetrating even down to the depths of my library where I was. From how it sounded, it seemed far, thousands of blocks away at least, yet it was still so loud.
I climbed to the top level, and gazed beyond the trees to see if I could get a glimpse of whatever creature made that sound. While I could not see it, I had at least a wink of an idea what caused it.
There’s one thing that sets me and a select few apart from the rest of those in the villages. I’m not quite sure the villagers or even some of the aristocracy have noticed.