Idk I'm writing this instead of my science essay because woohoo procrastination lessgo
I tried to finally put my skyblock designs to good use and tried to use them in the story, but man, I've actually got no clue how Necron and Kaeman are gonna look. I had a design for Kaeman, but it looked like how an eight year old would depict an emo person, so yeah, screw it, default design is wither with hands.
*
Somewhere deep in the Catacombs, a factory resides. Not a chocolate factory or some sort of regular factory, but instead a wither factory. Mass-producing wither skeletons out of nothing but coal and fels magic, their supply unlimited and forever growing. Their skin a burnt black, their bones scarred and thick- these were much more powerful than just your average skeleton or zombie. Rows and rows of them stretched across the factory, obediently awaiting orders from their superiors. And with their terrifying numbers, one shudders to imagine what havoc they could wreak on the world if their leaders ever gave the signal.
Luckily, their leaders seem to be on a very, very long hiatus.
Past the first layer of the factory, overtaking even the second, lay the hallways that led to the most powerful wither lord of them all (if we don’t count his master in retirement). However, these hallways were littered with lava and gates, denying entrance to any adventurer that was less-than seasoned.
The maintainer of these hallways was Goldor. He was currently near the entrance to this layer, below the red pillar that adventurers would go down once they took care of Storm.
The bulky wither knelt down at a giant table, various structures and figurines atop it. Looking at it closer, the plastic and clay materials seemed to form a near-perfect replica of the entire factory. The table was carved into four equal sections, one section for each floor of the factory. Maxor’s floor was in the top left section, with tall pillars and tiny wither skeleton figurines to complement it. Storm’s floor was right next to it, wither skeletons perched on top of towers and a few shadow assassins sprinkled within. And who could forget the iconic crushers? Goldor hadn’t yet thought of a way to make the crushers functional in his model, however.
And in the bottom right square was Goldor’s very own floor. He made sure the lava had its own 3d shape instead of being painted on, as it was crucial to his floor. There were small clay computers to represent the terminals, and a pure white platform near the factory core on this model.
Goldor was currently working at painting that platform. Hands steady and slow, he gently brushed gold paint onto the clay, making sure he avoided the edges. He planned to paint them another color. He leaned on his knee, painting carefully, gently… make sure he didn't smear it onto the lava...
“YA!”
“Augh!” Goldor yelped, paint from the brush splattering on both his stony armor and the other models on the table.
A grinning, charred, skeletal face stared back at him, wearing a skull helmet. Bright purple eyes peeked out from the eyeholes in the helmet, and the figure innocently put his hands behind his back. “WELL, WHADDYA DOING?”
Goldor swatted at the paint that stuck to his armor, looks of disgust on both his main head and two floating ones. “Something important you wouldn’t understand,” he grumbled. “Now get back to the top layer. How did you even get past Storm?”
Maxor, however, didn’t pay attention to him and instead eyed the table filled to the brim with the mini structures and plastic models. “OOOHHH, THAT’S MY WITHER MINERS!” He poked at the small wither skeleton figurines in the top left section, small flecks of gold paint staining some of them because of Goldor's surprise.
As soon as he saw the rambunctious wither take interest in his perfectly-designed factory simulation, Goldor shoved him to the side with a beefy hand.
“OW!” Maxor whined, his overexaggerated cries of pain almost making the wither general want to pin him to the wall.
Goldor scowled and pushed the table away from the two of them. “Those models are delicate.” His voice was spiked with contempt. “Take your destruction elsewhere, why not pay Storm a visit?”
Maxor crossed his arms and sat himself down on the floor. “FINE!” He clutched his skull helmet. “But it’s just so UNINTERESTING!” he wailed. “I want to FIGHT! I want BLOODSHED! But there’s not a single human coming here! Not even Sadan wants to FIGHT!”
Goldor continued to watch Maxor rant about his boredom, eyes cautiously trailing him and making sure he didn’t make a lunge for his hobby table again. He often thought that Maxor talked way too much and just needed to shut up every once in a while- just like Storm, but he knew that the elementalist would have it out for him if he ever dared mention it.
Finally, he could take it no longer and held up a hand. “Enough!” he barked. Maxor immediately became silent and turned to look at him, eyebrows raised and waiting for him to say something. Goldor had to admit that, while the wither lord was plenty annoying, at least he was compliant when necessary. The same couldn’t be said for Storm, however…
Goldor sighed and stared at Maxor. “I understand, the lack of adventurers is very concerning. But treat it as a small break, relax, take up new interests. Be grateful archers aren’t ripping you from existence in the span of seconds.”
Maxor nodded along to his pleas, a bored expression on his face. “Yeah, yeah.” He slowly crept back towards the small model of the wither factory, hands behind his back as to not provoke Goldor. The wither general opened his mouth to speak, but was promptly cut off. “What is this?” Maxor asked, a genuine sense of curiosity in his voice. He peered down at the different plastic shapes strategically placed throughout, that formed an accurate recreation of their abode.
Goldor apprehensively followed behind the short wither, still unsure if he could trust him with his prized collection. “Well, as you know, it gets boring down here, waiting for the humans to arrive.” He spread his arms across the entire table, making sure not to move anything out of place. “I’ve been maintaining this model for who knows how long, and it keeps my attention well. Plus, once I complete it, you and the other lords will be able to use it as a way to plan battle strategies and formations.”
“Woah…” Maxor’s eyes glazed over as he reached in to feel for a tiny version of his laser crystals, but Goldor was quick to swat his hand away.
“Once I complete it,” he hissed.
“But THIS IS SO AMAZING THOUGH!” Maxor exclaimed. “DID YOU REALLY MAKE ALL OF IT BY YOURSELF?”
Goldor shrugged modestly. “Some of it with clay, some of them I bought pre-made.”
“Where?”
“I sometimes get the Watcher to do a bit of grocery shopping for me. He has his methods.”
“Are you gonna make us next?”
“That is in the plans. But not right now. I’ll even attempt to make some caricatures of the humans we always seem to end up fighting.”
By now, Maxor was fully invested. The thought of there being a mini-figurine of his likeness- it immediately raised his respect for Goldor by tenfold. He liked Sadan, sure, he was a good battling partner, but Sadan would never make a model of him OR an entire simulation. He’d just end up continuing to polish his boring terracotta warriors.
Goldor couldn’t help but grin as Maxor moved the already-existing figures on the table around like dolls- watching as he fiddled around with one of the clay crystals in his hands, examining the sticky paint every which-way. Maybe it was just because the young wither was bored out of his mind- but Goldor felt a bit proud that somebody else was interested in this small little side project of his. He didn’t even mind anymore that Maxor might be scratching the models.
“Don’t touch the stuff on my factory layer,” Goldor warned him. “The paint’s still drying.”
“You’re SO MUCH cooler than that old man Storm,” Maxor gushed. “He’s crankier, he’s always whining about me for no reason, and he always acts like he’s better than anyone else. EVEN NECRON! In fact, when I went down to see you, he was missing! IMAGINE THAT!”
“Missing?” Goldor furrowed his brow as he thought to himself. “But where would he be? I can’t possibly see him engaging with any of the lower necromancers on the other floors, unless-”
*
The thing was, only Maxor was the one who took the drought of dungeon parties in bad faith. The others, like Goldor, were taking advantage of this break, and catching up with their interests and friends and whatnot.
Down in the factory, below the layer where Goldor and Maxor were discussing the wither commander’s hobby table, was Necron’s layer. And the platform in the middle of his lava-overflowing room also served as an entrance to the lords’ master’s chamber.
It was a long fall down. And when you arrived, you would be greeted with an empty, vast room filled with dusty skeletons and the statues of various dragons posing like loyal dogs. There would be a humongous throne facing your way, enough to seat hundreds of normal human kings at once. Human kings, that was. Not wither kings fueled by the energy of millennials’ worth of dark magic.
And here, in this Wither King’s chamber, his men were currently having a nice candlelit dinner amongst themselves.
Necron, Storm, and the looming Voidgloom Seraph were all seated at a long table, positioned right above a bloody-red pentagram on the floor. The Wither King accompanied them on his throne, his eyes distant as ever as he thought about days long past.
The two withers and the enderman angel, however, were more lively, if not by much. They politely poked their forks into their meals, slowly feeding the food into their mouths with tense expressions on their faces. Storm looked down at his plate, Necron stared straight ahead as he dug into his food, and the Voidgloom Seraph’s eyes darted to his king and back to his food.
All of them knew perfectly well that they didn’t need to eat. Turning into undead had removed hunger from Necron’s and Storm’s problems altogether, and their taste buds had shriveled away anyway. The Voidgloom ate, sure, but not in the traditional sense and more in the consuming-the-souls-of-his-followers-to-amplify-his-powers sense. However, their master had brought them all here together to get to know each other better, and what better way than a nice dinner?
None of them were enjoying this at all. But they really didn’t want to make the Wither King upset when he was already as broken as he was.
“Nice decor,” the Voidgloom mentioned, looking at his dragon statues of various colors.
The Wither King stiffened. He wasn’t sure whether he was being sarcastic or polite- especially given that the angel didn’t have the best relationship with the dragons in the End, as far as he was concerned. Still, he muttered a “thank you.”
A silence fell over the four people, only the clinking sounds of their forks against their plate breaking it up. The Voidgloom seemed agitated by something, as his expression grew more and more annoyed.
Right when he looked like he was about to burst, the enderman relaxed himself, raised his head, and gracefully twirled his fork. “You know, my fellow acquaintance,” he said soothingly, looking directly across the table at Necron. “We haven’t really discussed the ways we fight for our-” He swept a slender arm up towards the towering Wither King. “-majesty.”
Necron tensed at that statement, feeling that trouble was about to invite itself in. Storm anticipated this too, and sank lower in his seat.
The Wither King stared wearily at the Voidgloom. “Please do not call me that. I don’t know what I was thinking with that title, please, just call me Kaeman.”
“Ah! But of course, Kaeman.” The Voidgloom smirked to himself and clasped his hands together, watching gleefully as Necron shot death stares towards him. However, the enderman didn’t keep up his facade for a second longer, as a scowl crossed his face. “Now tell me…” He slammed his fists on the table, making a terrible clanging noise with the plates. “Why did you copy MY LASER ATTACK?”
Necron shot straight out from his seat, propping himself up on the table with his two lower shadowy hands as he stood hunched over on it. He pointed accusingly at the enderman with his two normal hands. “Excuse me, are we truly going to bring this up again?”
The Voidgloom gestured over towards Kaeman. “Because we both clearly care for our master’s safety. And the more powerful you are, the less likely humans are going to be able to disturb him. Perhaps stealing my laser attack suggests that you aren’t pleased with your own ones.”
Necron narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying that I’m not-”
The Voidgloom waved a finger at him. “So many questions, no answers,” he said simply. “I mean, as Kaeman here has told me, you used to be a pathetic orphan mage who failed even the simplest of spells. Meanwhile I-” He tapped his broken halo. “-am a god. Take that into consideration. Take into account the way our power differs.” He flaunted his two giant wings, as if that solidified his point somehow.
Storm sunk even lower into his seat, as he shook his head disapprovingly. “Oh, here these two are again…”
All four of them had many of these meetings before, but Kaeman got creative this time and hosted a dinner instead. Storm, instead of Maxor or Goldor, was invited to them only because the Wither King took a liking to him and his powers. Being the one who destroyed the Castle that the king himself failed to also helped as well.
And in every one of these meetings, both Necron and the seraph would be at each other’s throats, as if just being respectful to the other was a disease that was slowly killing them. Necron personally complained to Storm about how much of a suck-up and wretched pest the fallen angel was- behind his back, of course.
Honestly, the elementalist failed to see how either of them became the king’s top men. Clearly, he was the one who was staying calm and composed in this situation, not those two.
But whatever the Voidgloom was doing to provoke the wither- whether it be from prying into his past or speaking every one of his words with a taste akin to that of poison honey- it worked.
Necron, without another word, immediately conjured his valkyrie into his hand- no, all four of the wither blades. He held a sword in each of his four hands, their blades all radiating with the aura of fels magic. He readied himself in a battle stance. His expression was stoic on the outside, but he bore his eyes into the enderman with a resentful nature. “Perhaps you’d like an opportunity to back up your statement?”
The angel was shocked at his bluntness, but recovered immediately, a wry grin crossing his face. He swirled his tiny hands around near his abdomen, a small, black and white yin-yang glyph beginning to appear between them. “Oh, I’d love that.”
Necron growled and prepared to go straight for the kill as he charged his frenzy, but a sudden crack of lightning broke his concentration. He first thought it was Storm, but saw the elementalist sitting with his hands down, nodding towards Kaeman’s direction. He then diverted his attention towards the Wither King, and saw him with a colossal hand outstretched, tentacles writhing in agitation.
By the furious look on their master’s face, both Necron and the Voidgloom swore they were about to be lectured heavily, and exchanged concerned glances. They lowered their heads, awaiting punishment. But Kaeman’s expression eventually softened and he looked down at himself, sighing. “Have I truly been such a terrible master that I cannot stop my men from fighting amongst themselves?” His voice quivered.
Necron swallowed- while he would have loved to put the Voidgloom in his place, he realized that his master was more important than petty conflicts. Especially after learning how much he had been suffering in the past.
He flashed a smile at the left-hand man, acting like they weren’t about to fight a moment earlier. “Great meal, wouldn’t you say?”
The Voidgloom seemed to be playing along as well, and nodded to himself. “Of course. Simply delectable!”
Kaeman, despite his apathetic nature, found it appropriate to roll his eyes. “Pretending that everything is well does not change that fact.”
This was when Storm decided to make his move. “Perhaps we should spar?” He suggested politely. “You yourself said that you love our sparring sessions, I think it’ll soothe your nerves.”
Kaeman rubbed his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said, repeating Storm’s words. He leaned his main head against a tentacle. “I’ve been experiencing vivid dreams recently, mostly of-” He swallowed his words and surveyed his three men. Only Necron was the one who knew of his past life, and he didn’t intend on spilling his history to the other two right now. He let out a breath. “It doesn’t matter. But maybe it will take my mind off of these thoughts.”
A large smile crossed Storm’s face as he held up his hands near his face, rusted copper gauntlets on them. “Focus up, my master, and let us hope your skills are still as good as the last time we sparred.”
The Voidgloom looked at Kaeman’s overinflated, withered body, and looked back at the comically tiny Storm. He offered a skeptical expression towards Necron, who only leaned back in his chair. “Watch,” the wither lord stated with a smile, bathing in his rival’s ignorance.
Instead of reaching for a sword as the enderman had thought, the Wither King ushered one of his wither husks over to the scene. His skeleton servant complied, limping its way over with creaky movements.
Then, one of his slithering tentacles crept up behind the husk and stabbed itself into its back. The husk went limp for a second, then suddenly jolted back up with renowned vigor, dark lines bleeding through its normally pale bones. Meanwhile, Kaeman himself was looking down, eyes dark and empty.
Necron tossed his Hyperion to Storm, who caught it with his right hand. With the three remaining wither blades, he held them up in view for the wither husk, displaying them with his two normal arms and one dark one. “Which sword will it be this time, Kaeman?”
The wither husk, with smooth motions unlike before, pointed towards his Astraea, and the Voidgloom noted that the Wither King’s form also seemed to simultaneously point towards it as well.
Necron nodded. “Playing defensively, I see.” He threw it to the wither husk, who raised its hands up into the air and caught it with stunning accuracy. The giant wither on the throne raised his hands in the same motion as well.
The wither husk, the tentacle still attached to it like a marionette string, brandished the Astraea a few times before getting into battle position. The Wither King swung his arms around as well, and the Voidgloom had a pretty clear idea of just what was going on now.
Meanwhile, by the enderman’s perception, Storm did not seem at all ready to fight. His feet were still close together and his left arm behind his back, while he stuck out the Hyperion with his right hand. Judging from his mage robes and lack of proper defensive armor, he didn’t look like a good sparrer at all. Still, he nodded towards Necron’s direction.
Necron noticed, and raised a hand into the air. “First one to get hit loses. Begin!”
Immediately, Storm charged towards the wither husk being piloted by Kaeman, his intent being to catch him off guard and end it quickly. But Kaeman, after so many rounds with him, knew his strategy. The husk quickly dashed out of the way. Storm was thrown off balance momentarily, but quickly stopped himself. He turned around and swung his sword down on the husk.
Kaeman saw it coming and blocked the attack, pushing back against Storm. His strength, even when projected through a corpse and not directly, was immense. Meanwhile, Storm didn’t have the power to match that strength; he was getting rusty after using nothing but magic attacks against the adventurers invading their factory. So it wasn’t a surprise when Storm decided to back off instead of continuing to clash with Kaeman’s Astraea.
Now Kaeman was on the offense. He knew that if he caught Storm’s parry and continued to push against him, he was guaranteed to win. He swung his Astraea at him, relying on sheer force to overpower his disciple.
But Storm picked up some tricks of his own. Instead of deflecting the attack, he stepped back, letting the force of the husk’s swing throw it off balance. Using that window of time, he moved his sword towards the skeleton’s abdomen. But, he also knew that his master would see it coming. He feigned that attack, recalling his sword and forcing Kaeman to frantically block nothing but air. He then made a quick jab above, the attack real this time. But he was only met by the cacophony of metal colliding, as Kaeman raised his sword at the last moment to block it.
This surprised Storm, who took half a second to process what just happened. And in that half second, the husk regained its footing and slammed its sword back against his Hyperion.
Storm attempted to get out of the way, but he was already in too deep. Kaeman had pushed him back far too much for him to have a chance to escape, and as soon as he stopped pushing back the Astraea would immediately make contact with him. His knees buckled against the pressure as he continued to lose more and more ground.
Eventually, Storm’s arms couldn’t take it anymore and he gave way, allowing Kaeman to make a clean hit towards his shoulder. The elementalist dropped down to his knees as the Hyperion fell to the ground with a clatter.
Necron nodded in approval. “Battle has been concluded. Kaeman wins.” His shadowy lower arms stretched towards the two duelists, reaching down to pick up his two wither blades. He brought them back towards his body and sheathed them.
The Wither King’s tentacle that had injected itself into the wither husk recalled itself, and the husk collapsed into a pile of dust as soon as the tentacle left the body. The life immediately came back to the giant wither’s eyes, as he respectfully bowed as best as he could. “That was a good duel. Quick, but good. Your sparring skills are still decent after all this time.”
Storm dusted himself off and went back to the table, sitting himself down again. “I’d consider my sparring skills the worst of my abilities. My lightning powers are far better,” he sheepishly said, some attempt at humble bragging.
Even the Voidgloom was impressed, and he believed the End to be superior to the Catacombs. He nodded with great regard towards the wither mage. “With how well you fought there, I’m surprised that the adventurers even make it past you.” He tapped his chin, as curiosity flooded his mind. “Do you intentionally hold back? Are the humans more powerful than I initially believed?”
Storm gave a wry smile as he shrugged. “A bad fighting environment, I suppose. By the way that Necron designed the factory, they always manage to crush me before I have a chance to show my true power.”
Necron glared at Storm, suspicion on his face. Was his fellow lord really trying to throw him under the bus here? Trying to overtake him as right hand man? He didn’t think that he would stoop this low. If anything, he was more offended than actually threatened.
The Voidgloom, however, seemed to feed into his slander against Necron. He nodded. “Hm,” he said, ignoring the annoyed looks of his enemy. “You should talk that up with Necron then.”
Necron pushed his hatred and resent out of the way and steadied himself, responding with an affirming and calm voice. “I can discuss this with you and the other lords later.” He gestured at the lit candles. “But not at a time like this.”
Kaeman, sensing the tension, sucked in a breath and clasped his hands together awkwardly. He’d feel awful if the reason the Catacombs collapsed was because of arguments he should’ve been able to solve. “While I may not have much say in the administration of these crypts anymore, I appreciate each one of you. Truly, I do.”
Not much was said after that. Storm, Necron, and the Voidgloom seemed to have dropped the conflict after hearing their master’s words. Without much else to do, the Voidgloom pulled out a board game from who-knows-where for them to play. Some game called Indoctrination, where each player would roll dice and draw cards to try to gain more followers for their cult. The players could choose to wage war on each other and capture each other’s followers until their cult became disbanded- last player standing wins. Necron had to admit that the game premise seemed awfully in character for the Voidgloom, a little too much of a coincidence.
Kaeman, who only wanted to get back into gazing into his orb after this tiring dinner, tried to opt out. But after seeing the disappointment from his subordinates, he sat himself down for a quick game.
It lasted for quite some bit. Storm was busy complaining about the dice being rigged when the Watcher suddenly popped in for a visit.
“Oh?” The giant eyeball glanced down at the scattered cards, plus two of the Voidgloom’s personal dice. “You guys were having a gamenight? How fun. And you didn’t even think to invite me.” He turned towards the imposing enderman, who stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the three withers. “Oh. And hello too, Voidgloom Seraph.”
The seraph did a small curtsy. “Likewise.”
“You are a top advisor, so I don’t see why you cannot come next time.” Kaeman crossed his arms, a look of worry creasing his grotesque face. “But tell my disciples- what is the issue?”
The Watcher hovered up and down. “I’m assuming you guys were having a wonderful time on your break. But sadly, adventurers have entered the main part of the dungeon. You best ready yourself for a fight.”
Necron sighed in relief, glad that the dinner nightmare was finally over. If he had to hand over five more of his followers to the Voidgloom because he rolled another 2 on that rigged dice he brought-
“Noted,” he responded. “Remember to tell Maxor and Goldor as well.”
The Watcher nodded. “Of course.” Suddenly, his eye curved into what looked to be a cheeky expression. “And if you invite me next time, I’ll bring all the board games I have.” Without another word, he vanished, leaving only a few drops of blood on the floor behind.
After that, the Voidgloom had to leave too, and bid his acquaintances farewell before he left for the End. He also made sure to compliment the food, even if he couldn’t exactly remember just what he was eating.
Necron and Storm went back to their respective factory floors to prepare for the fight, leaving Kaeman alone in his chamber again to ponder to himself.
He knew only two things now regarding dinners down here. One- get Necron and the Voidgloom engaging as little as possible to avoid conflict. Maybe invite Goldor and Maxor too to fill the silence, if he was desperate enough. Two- get the Watcher to bring the board games. And not the enderman.
*
tldr; goldor shows his custom dollhouse to maxor and necron has tension (not the romantic type sorry my guys) with voidgloom at kaeman's dinner party. storm exists.
Okay, okay, I know that when F7 got revamped and the other wither lords got added, they reused some of Necron's voicelines for them, but you gotta hear me out when i say that they've got totally different personalities (they dont. im coping. im coping like a kpop fan trying to justify which member of the boy band is cutest when in reality they've all got the same-ass face with different hair colors)
My last story of Kaeman's dead wife flashback got a grand total of 1 person who actually cared, so yeah. but to be fair, if i was reading the story with no idea of who Kaeman even was, i'd have fallen asleep.
