Witchcraft SMP Member-Inspired Dances

Legal Rights and Murder

This wasn't good.

Not in the point of view for the court, anyways. Killing the person who decided to sue you wasn't a good look. At all. It just made him look really guilty and...pretty much made him lose any chance he'd had of avoiding being sued.

Ah well.

To be fair, he usually marked lots of things, and he'd completely forgotten about...that. It just wasn't very memorable! The guy sued him for counts of murder (that weren't accurate, he'd killed more animals than that) and for having a scottish accent, as well as a lack of empathy towards animals.

Well, he was sorry for the creatures that had to put up with him. Sorry for the animals that everyone on the server practically kidnapped and shoved into a pen to breed until it wasn't good enough, and then slain.

He certainly wasn't the worst person on the server. After all, Jimmy had put his sheep in his already-cramped house, as well as replacing parts of his floor with dirt and using it to grow crops. He'd helped fWhip and Sausage with grabbing those villagers! A tiresome affair really, especially with all the countless teleporting he did.

Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could find a way around this like he could with getting out of sticky situations. Mark a few people, do enough scare-teleports and perhaps he can get some friends to help him out. Forcibly, if the need arose.

He wasn't going to let himself go down that easy.

---

He was furious!

The darkness had suffocated him, a stark contrast to where he'd been before. The squelching sculk underfoot clawed at his ankles in an angered grasp, squeezing and scratching. The Warden barrelled towards him, the souls trapped within its chest pulsing brightly.

He felt his body practically disintegrate. Within moments he was dead and buried. All because he'd been unlucky. Because he'd made the mistake of letting someone mark him, and he'd paid the price for it. He should've kept himself at a distance. Should've made a glass barrier between them. Anything to prevent being marked.

But who was he kidding? The guy gave him gifts before reading the book saying he'd be sued! He'd gulped down the lump of guilt in his throat as everything conspired.

He wouldn't let himself make that mistake a second time. Not again. No, when he respawned he'd be far more careful. If he wasn't, then he may be the first to die permanently. How many lives did he even have left? How many did everyone have left? How much longer did everyone have to live, lives to use up, before inevitably perishing?

He didn't know.

The darkness had suffocated him and spat him out.

Spores of Sculk

He hadn't expected to see him like that at first.

A human first. He remembered that. They'd met when he spooked Sparrow whilst he was trying to take pictures of him from afar. Then they had gone into his house to interview him.

Then a copper golem. He was smaller, certainly, and seeing the person he'd known for so long change scared him. What if Sparrow changed? What if he didn't like him much anymore? People changed when they died, he knew that much.

But he didn't. Not really. He was mostly the same person.

And now, Sparrow was...whatever he is now. Some sort of sculk creature.

Scott rubbed his temples, trying to ease the aching.

The spores floating around him dispersed a little and he let out an annoyed growl, stamping the ground and digging his foot into the dirt.

Lifting his shoe back up, he realised he'd broken the mycellium he'd surrounded the sculk in.

He sighed.

Sparrow mentioned opening doors when he was in his head. Had he actually...? No, he couldn't have. Surely. That was a huge invasion of privacy. He wouldn't do that.

Recalling the sensation sent shivers down his spine.

Best to ignore it.

Flaming Death

This wasn't the plan.

All Joey had wanted to do was to try and get revenge on the resident Necromantic Witch who'd decided to curse him. That was fair enough. If he got cursed, surely it would be fine to return the favour? So he tried to learn about those curses. It was very complicated, and he didn't understand all of it, but a few curses seemed simple enough. Joey wanted to start simple; to give Scott the burning curse he'd used on Joey not too long ago. From there Joey wanted to get progressively worse, but starting small seemed to be the best idea. He would have to be careful in getting a taglock. Last time didn't go down too well.

Not to mention how Scott was taunting him. In his own home no less! And maybe that's caused Joey to resort to some...creative methods of getting that taglock. But it's mostly because he needs Scott distracted by something.

Joey heard Pris from within her tower. He left Spawn and saw her standing there buying upgrades from her...what were they called again? Ah, it didn't matter.

"Pris!"

"Joey? What is it?" She folded her arms and pointed her chin up slightly.

"I want to try and get Scott's taglock again."

"He killed us both last time. What says he won't try it again?" The Water Witch had apprehension and doubt laced within her words.

"Because I'll distract him while you get the taglock. But go invisible when you do it!" Joey grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her tower and into Spawn. "Ready?"

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea..." she muttered, then sighed in defeat. "Fine. But be quick. I don't want to drag this out too long in case it goes south." She pulled out a glass bottle with a translucent lilac liquid in it and downed the contents in one gulp. Pris disappeared from his vision, the only indication of her presence being small particles floating whimsically around her in a tiny shroud. "Ready." Pris had removed her armour and hat to go fully invisible. Joey trusted she was still there.

"Alright then. Let's go."

--------

Scott had been minding his business.

Which isn't the easiest to believe seeing as he'd been grinding to get new armour, spells and weapons from the very start. No, he wasn't doing much. He had enough taglocks of almost every other witch partaking in the contest to become Supreme Witch. So why worry? He could curse anyone who dared cross him with pretty much anything. Misfortune being his personal favourite. Watching his enemies become bombarded with nausea, then blindness and poison, all at random and some simultaneously...it was a great stress-reliever.

But he hadn't been dabbling in dark magic. The Book Of Shadows was firmly shut and resting somewhere in his inventory. For now, all he was doing was gardening. And by gardening, he meant trying to get more plants to grow so he could have more secret rooms. Because really, who doesn't want multiple secret rooms to practise dark magic away from prying eyes? It was perfect.

Until Scott heard a quiet chuckle from behind.

He spun around on his heels to see who it was. To see who he had to threaten with curses to leave him alone. Annoyingly enough, it was the Fire-Frost Witch. And some...weird particles? They didn't seem to rise up very high, which indicated it could be Joey's familiar hidden with an invisibility potion.

"Hello," Scott purred. "How've you been since I cursed you?" To his own surprise, Joey seemed unfazed.

"Fine, actually. Managed to sleep through most of it. Really, find some better curses." The Fire-Frost Witch had an almost playful glint in his eyes. "Anyway, what are you doing? Looks pretty secretive."

"Just some gardening," Scott shrugged. He had a small list of excuses in his head to back himself up. "I figured my area needed a bit more death and decay in some bits. Thus, wither roses." He gestured at the small patch of black flowers with sharp thorned stems. "They weren't too hard to collect. The withering effect wasn't that bad." Which was a lie; it hurt like absolute hell, but Joey didn't have to know that.

"I didn't take you for a gardener," Joey didn't seem convinced. Yet instead of calling him out, Joey let it happen for some reason.

"Not many people do." One person did. One person Scott had lost a while ago. One person he needed to bring back. And Joey was standing in his way of doing so. All the other witches were. "But now that you know," Scott slowly approached Joey, ensuring each step was dragged out, one foot in front of the other. "I can't exactly have you running around telling people. I have a reputation to uphold, just like you. So how about we keep this between us?" Scott was practically leaning over Joey now. Their faces were inches apart, and Scott ensured that Joey could see the power burning in his eyes. The stench of death was carried on the wind, and the Fire-Frost Witch winced from it. Scott was unaffected; he'd become accustomed to it. Joey's moment of weakness gave Scott an edge.

"Really? Then how about we make a deal?" Joey knew he was playing a risky game like this. Pris's potion was starting to wear off, and he could see her figure flickering in and out of visibility. But with yet another potion gone, she was invisible once more. They both shared a silent look speaking volumes on their behalf. Joey had to keep going. The smell of death caused his nose to wrinkle in disgust. Honestly, it was just distasteful.

"What kind of deal?"

"Hmm...well it would be one both of us benefit from," He paused to give himself time to think. Pris was already getting close behind him. He only needed to stall for a bit longer. He stared up at Scott's lifeless green eyes. The necromancer really did embody death in a way. Menacing when he had to be, while also caring to those who'd earned his respect. "How about..." Joey's hand subconsciously reached for Scott's shirt and grabbed a fistful of it. He pulled the Necromantic Witch closer.

What?

Joey didn't know what he was doing. He didn't have to do...whatever this was! He just needed to give Pris time to get Scott's taglock. But since they were here, like this, Joey couldn't help but be curious. Surely it would buy Pris time if he...

A pause. Neither man knew what to do. They gazed at each other as if asking for mutual permission. Their eyes spoke for them. And before either could blink, their lips were pressed together.

Joey couldn't breathe. His face must've been bright red. He tugged Scott closer and held him there as if scared the Necromantic Witch would run away.

Scott wasn't questioning it. It wasn't hard to do, when thoughts were buzzing through his mind faster than flies flocking to a rotted corpse in the woods. But he didn't have an answer. All he could focus on was Joey. His arms cirlced around Joey's waist.

The two pulled away. They were breathing heavy and were unsure of what to do.

Joey recovered quickly. "Until next time, Scott." He gave the necromancer a quick kiss on the cheek for good measure, then ran away.

--------

"What was that about?" Pris didn't get the taglock. She'd hesitated a moment too long and lost her chance.

"N-nothing," Joey's face was still red from that encounter. "I-it was nothing."

"Really? Because you seemed pretty enthusiastic when you ki-"

"Shh!" Joey clamped a hand over her mouth and dropped it a second later. His gaze settled on the floor at his feet.

"Now what? We don't have a taglock of him."

"I don't know. Maybe we should just get stronger first and come back to it later."

"That's what you said last time." Pris folded her arms. Her eyes scanned Joey with an analytical glint. Her lips curled up in a smile as realisation dawned on her. "Oh, I see. Yeah we don't have to curse him anymore. But, you can convince him to stop cursing us."

"O-okay." Joey nodded. That was a compromise he could work with. In fact, that was probably an outcome he preferred over Pris having gotten that taglock.

If anyone said he made a protective voodoo doll for Scott that night, Joey would say they lied.

I'd Hate To Do This To You On Your Birthday

Martyn stared at the world below. Today was meant to have been his birthday. And, sure, he'd had fun, but there was just something almost sad about it. Something poetic about celebrating his birthday in the midst of the death games where he'd die immanently. If it were anyone else, maybe they'd come up with a decent metaphor for the situation. But as it was, Martyn wasn't really a poet.

He watched the night sky calmly. The swirling pools of ink dotted with smidges of liquidy purples and wisps of navy. Small twinkling stars that smiled down on the participants of the cruel games being enacted, as if they were completely amused by their primitive actions.

The stars were as clever and calculating as they were beautiful. Almost like Scott, in a way. His ally had been talking about strategically-placed pufferfish and strategically-placed dolphins for a fair while, and even though only the pufferfishes had been done, the ideas he'd come up with were quite admirable. There was no reason to doubt why Scott had won the death games twice.

The moon had a tranquil glow that night. Instead of its taunting and menacing light, something calmer shone down on their small pocket of land. Like Pearl. Pearl, who only for a few hours, had been acting somewhat odd. She no longer seemed like the woman Martyn had known throughout the games. Her voice was slightly different, for one.

Martyn couldn't help but smile to himself. Today had been so hectic that it was...nice to take a moment to breathe. No one else was up here with him. He was alone. And, while normally Martyn liked the company of others, he couldn't help but enjoy the calm complacency he was in. There was no chatter to fill the air. No breathing alongside his own. No whispered promises, stolen kisses or silent laughs shared between friends. No agonising memories to dwell on as his mind constantly compared current moments to those of the past.

He was alone. But he was happy.

In this game, where you could never prevent the clock ticking, it appeared senseless to just do nothing. Why do nothing when you could be out there, killing others to take their time from them? When you could be spending time with loved ones? When you could be setting traps to ween down the remaining numbers?

Martyn didn't have time for that. Well, he did, technically, but that wasn't the point.

He remembered everything from the past. He'd killed a close ally twice now, once in separate iterations of the death games. He'd tried to win back his 'soulmate' to whom his life was tethered to after she left him. He'd tried so much to do so much.

Maybe now, on his birthday, it was finally time to rest.

"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me," he sang to himself to fill the silence. "Happy birthday dear...me?" shrugging, he continued on. "Happy birthday to me." finishing the song, Martyn sat down on the floor.

Unbeknownst to Martyn the Stars and the Moon were singing that same song under their breaths to him.

New Life Superhero/Villain AU!

My ideas for (some) of the creators in New Life as heroes or villains.

Heroes:

Jimmy - 'Cold Guy'

Gem - 'Inferno'

Sausage - 'Phoenix'

Owen/Sparrow - 'Copper'

Jimmy can manipulate ice to obtain super speed as well as create icy barriers to shield himself and others. Some joke that his abilities and Martyn''s are so similar that they could be siblings, but Jimmy refuses to divulge whether or not he was born with his powers.

Gem can control and manipulate fire. She accidentally burned fWhip with it when they were children and has never forgiven herself for it since. She believes he is dead.

Sausage can also manipulate fire, but unlike Gem, he can use it to fly as well as being able to heal people in a close radius to him. As a result, he chooses to fight long-range to avoid accidentally healing the villains he's fighting.

Sparrow is more durable and can fight longer than the others, as well as needing less rest and food. He tends to go on nightly patrols because of this. He stays away from Scott as they were friends as children.

Villains:

Scott - 'Mycellium'

Martyn - 'Blizzard'

Pearl - 'Golem'

fWhip - 'Trickster'

Scott has the power to summon and control fungi, and can grow them on people and animals to control them. In the past he used his ability on Jimmy, and Jimmy now has a scar on his chest from it.

Martyn can control ice to make himself impervious to attacks. He, like Jimmy, refuses to reveal how he got his powers, but for very different reasons. Martyn has scars all over his body and only Scott knows the reason for them.

Pearl has the same abilities as Sparrow and uses them so that she can carry out the harder work with less risk (e.g: bigger heists with higher risk of injury, taking on cops/vigilantes whilst the others continue what they're doing). She refuses to fight Sausage, but can't recall or explain why.

fWhip can shrink himself and uses this ability for breaking and entering, as well as stealing. Gem believes he died, but in truth he just shrank himself and ran away. He hasn't told her the truth, but holds nothing against her.

So what do you think? Who else could be a hero/villain? Any interesting backstory ideas?

The Colony

Scott could feel the mushrooms.

Every tiny nook and cranny that he could place them in wasn't safe to the eyes of his brethren. Through them he could see. Through them he could hear. Through them he could feel.

There was no privacy in the colony. Everything was shared. That way no one had to deal with things alone.

But that also meant that Scott's pain was shared with the entire colony. His anguish, his agony, his sorrow. Every mushroom in his colony felt it and resonated with it.

He hated it. Hated how miserable he made his colony feel.

But as quickly as it'd come, the hatred would dissipate as the mushrooms soothed him with gentle words. His mind would be lulled into silence with their tender tune of love and adoration; because why wouldn't they adore him? Not many fungal mages roamed the lands anymore. They were few; a tiny sub-populace, a dying minority that would fade away.

The colony couldn't let him be destroyed by his sadness. He was the one spreading their power across the world. So they treated him like the blessing he was.

Scott sat on the mycellium outside his house, one hand tenderly stroking the ground and humming a small melody.

"How are you settling in? Hmm. That's good. I was worried that Martyn's Dollop would be a bit hard to adjust to. It's nice to know you're doing well. Oh? Don't tell me you just learned about the Coliny. They're nice, I promise. Yes, I know, you'll be fine! They aren't competition. They are just... frozen creepers? Yeti creepers? Something like that."

The mycellium around him spoke in a mixture of tones and voices.

"Oh no, I doubt Martyn will find you too quickly. He'll take a while at least. Probably a couple weeks. Maybe some months. He isn't as dense as I'd like him to be, but he's dumb enough."

He felt their worry. Their fear of discovery. And at that he shook his head and tutted.

"Don't fret, my babies. If he does try to uproot you or hurt you..." He trailed off and glared at the sinking sun. "I'll show the fury of the colony. Every single one of his colins shall fall."

It was a promise. The sun, the moon and the blinking stars were his witnesses.

"What's this about killing my colins?"

"Oh. Martyn." Scott stood up and greeted the chillager. "How are you? Is there something you need?"

"Nah, just passing through," Martyn waved him off. "Although, what happened to your last origin?"

"I died."

"I know that! What are you now? How'd you die?"

He shrugged. "Fell. But now I'm even better! I'm a fungal mage!"

Martyn tilted his head like a puzzled puppy. "What's that?"

Scott didn't give him an answer. "I'm not alone now. I have my colony! No matter where I go, as long as I have mycellium, they are with me as well. It's wonderful! Nothing is private anymore! I don't need to worry about secrets! Or going through things alone!"

"I-"

"You'd love it Martyn. It's like never losing your inner child. Like always being able to cling to the parts of you that you love most. I have help for every problem!"

"This doesn't seem healthy." Martyn stepped forward and placed his hand on Scott's cheek. "Are you sure you're alright?" His touch was cold, but it didn't bother him. Scott leaned into it.

"Perfectly fine!"

Martyn's lips tugged down for a second, but returned to a thin line of indifference.

"I'd best be off."

"See you later!" Scott smiled, waving as his friend went away.

---

"He's not okay."

"What do you think it is?"

"He kept mentioning a colony. Acted as if he had a psychic connection with them as long as he had mycellium."

"Hmm. Check everyone's bases. There might be stuff there."

"You sure? What if we're just, y'know, overestimating this? It might just be harmless."

"I doubt it."

"Fine. I'll start looking."

Deathly Suspicions

Bertha couldn't quite place something about Scott. Something seemed...different, about him. They watched him take out a demon with complete ease, unlike Pris or Tiff. Scott also mentioned that he'd fought several demons before.

Which made sense, really. But the 'demon thing' wasn't what had puzzled Bertha.

No. It was something else.

They'd taken note of all the subtle differences of the Necromantic Witch. The first thing was how sickly Scott appeared. His skin was incredibly pale with an almost green tint in some places, cold and lifeless flesh clinging to his bones. If Scott was put next to a corpse dressed like him, Bertha knew they'd struggle telling the two of them apart. Scott looked as if he were an inch from death; like an old man waiting for death to knock on his door and take him away.

The second thing was the exposed rib. Scott's clothes had torn ever so slightly, but enough to reveal one of Scott's ribs. That was concerning. The skin surrounding that rib was so pale that Bertha could see every small detail of that rib. No one was meant to have skin that thin unless they were a heavily-decomposed zombie or a skeleton with a thin layer of skin clinging to it like a lifeline.

The last thing, not quite visible, was just Scott in general. He just seemed off. Sinister and malevolent even when they were talking calmly with each other. It was an unrelenting aura of malice that descended upon all in his general vicinity.

So Bertha decided to do some friendly snooping. Because, if they wanted to bring back their sister to undo the curse, they had to ensure that none of the witches were catching on. Or getting to a point where they'd be too powerful for Bertha to take down, even once they got the curse lifted.

Scott ran around the summoning circle outside his house, drawing lines of chalk on the ground. Bertha hid in a nearby tree, careful not to touch any of the leaves. The leaves that, somehow, were still attached to the trees despite being almost certainly dead.

"Come on, come on..." Scott muttered. Bertha noticed the salt on the ground, and how Scott was avoiding it like the plague. Leaning forward, they held their breath. What would happen if they dropped salt onto Scott?

"Careful...careful..." They whispered to themself, rummaging through their pockets. Once they found the salt, Bertha slowly began to tip it down. The salt landed on Scott's shoulder with a sizzle.

"Crap!" Scott cursed, clutching his shoulder. Letting out a cry of agony, the Necromantic Witch sunk to their knees. Demonic growls and whimpers escaped Scott's mouth. Thick and sticky black blood stained the necromancer's hand. The skin around his shoulder bubbled, the flesh blackened and sickeningly inhuman. "Damnit, damnit, damnit!" The demonic voice cried out. Scott tried to stand and failed. His head whipped around, glowing green eyes looking for the source of the salt.

Bertha swiftly retreated away. Hopping from tree to tree, they mentally stored the information they'd gathered in their brain for later.

Now they knew what was up with Scott. At least, now they had their suspicions.

Scott was a Lich.

And now Bertha knew, maybe there was a chance that they could gain some leverage here...

Sparrow's Flight

Sparrow hadn't been anticipating that his first encounter with that strange man would go like this. To be fair though, it would only have been a matter of time before he was spotted watching him from afar. He probably should've planned a better excuse.

"Argh!" Sparrow shrieked in surprise as the strange man appeared in front of him. Was that his ability? Teleportation? Sparrow scrambled backwards in shock.

"It's rather rude to spy on people," the strange man stated, fluffy cyan hair falling over his eyes. The strange man moved the strands so they didn't block his vision. "Now who might you be, weird person stalking me?"

He faltered in his answer. "Sp-Sparrow," he replied, stuttering madly. "My name's Sparrow. A-a-and you?"

"Scott S. Major!" The man said with a grin. "But you can call me Scott instead."

Sparrow squinted at the rings of energy around Scott's arms. The rings pulsed and glowed faintly with their respective blue and orange lights. What did they feel like? Soft? Hard? Rough? Did they feel like nothing at all? Or maybe water? Sparrow reached his hand out and, before he could even tell what he was doing, gently touched the rings.

There was an instant reaction in Scott. He smiled, pupils dilating like a cat. A low hum escaped his lips. The rings glowed a tad brighter.

Not long after, Sparrow saw a tiny beam of orange particles shoot out from Scott and connect the two of them. The particles dissipated almost immediately.

"What did you do?" he muttered quietly. Sparrow carefully retracted his hand. Some hybrids were dangerous. He couldn't just assume that Scott would be one of the pacifists when so many hybrids caused harm.

"This!" Scott launched himself into the air. Ten, twenty, thirty feet. And still going. Sparrow watched on, his mind archiving every second so he wouldn't forget. He couldn't.

Then Sparrow felt a tugging in his chest. Like a rope being pulled. His hand rose to tap his chest in curiosity.

Before he could blink, Sparrow was flung into the air. Scott now stood where he had previously. Wind whipped against his body as he fell to the ground. Shrieking, his arms flailed wildly. A myriad of high-pitched screams tore from his lips and rang in his ears. He'd misjudged Scott, and now he was gonna die. He was gonna die. He'd die and it'd be his fault for trusting Scott so easily. This wasn't how he wanted to go! Not falling from a height because he hadn't been on his guard.

Sparrow squeezed his eyes shut tight.

He landed.

He...wasn't dead?

Slowly, Sparrow's eyes fluttered open. Scott grinned at him. He looked down and saw that Scott had caught him.

Oh.

Sparrow sprung out of Scott's arms in a frenzy.

"Why would you do that? I could've died!" Sparrow screamed. Scott laughed, a mellifluous and whimsy sound. He kept laughing, tears pricking his eyes and clutching his stomach. Scott's shoulders shuddered with heavy full-body laughter.

"I-I'm sorry, I couldn't r-resist! It's to-too easy!" Scott eventually took several deep breaths, and wiped the tears from his eyes.

Sparrow huffed and folded his arms. "That was rude, y'know."

"How 'bout I make it up to ya then? I can grab some food and we can talk." At the suggestion, Sparrow smiled. This could be his opportunity to interview a hybrid! He could learn how Scott got his powers, how they impacted his lifestyle, and more!

"I'd say it's a deal." Sparrow's wrist was grabbed by Scott, and a ring of orange and blue particles floated around them. The world fell dark, and a brief bout of nausea decided to strike, but when everything was visible again he relaxed.

"Come on in," Scott said, opening the door to his home. "I'll get the cabbage rolls out."

Bertha Theory/Character Study (?)

So I saw the video Bertha had, and this came to my mind.

To start with, at the end of the video, Bertha mentioned something their sister did to them. Now I immediately thought that Bertha's sister sabotaged them and became the Supreme Witch. But then why does Bertha bother hosting a competition for the role of Supreme Witch when they had been told their whole lives that they were worthy of the role? So now, I present to you...

What if Bertha is cursed? Cursed to be everywhere and nowhere, and never be fully present in the world? They commune with the animals, can instantly see their lives, apparently sold their soul to Scott (which kinda confused me for a sec - can't tell if that was a joke or not) and they don't seem to talk much to the other witches outside of the Dungeons. Even Pris touched on that in the video! So what if Bertha is cursed to forever remain semi-present in the world?

I think of it as the Curse Of The Entity. Because Bertha did mention that they were an Entity. So what if this curse basically turns anyone into an Entity? The doors that alone could open is unbelievable: Scott could use it to bring someone back, Tiff could fulfill Mother Nature's orders with it, Joey could prove himself to the frost mages, and so much more!

So yeah. Bertha has a curse placed on them by their sister to forever be an Entity, never fully able to live their own life and enjoy themself.

How's that?

Gold Is Appealing

The crown weighs heavy upon its wearer's brow. Each passing day makes the crown grow heavier, and the wearer grows wearier with each day. Some say that a curse had been placed upon this crown during the first brawl to take place over its ownership. That, in the bloodshed of the rulers, the crown had been cursed to bring death and misfortune in its wake, and that any who wear it face cruel and startling punishments. For some, this means betrayal from one whom they'd loved, being poisoned in their own domain. For others, the crown brought magical powers beyond their own control, causing a harsh and gruelling winter to befall their lands.

It is needless to say that the crown had been swamped with misery and famine since the first few days of its creation. And that it had been buried long ago for good measure.

Pix had failed to read that in his books. But to be fair, there hadn't been many accounts detailing this crown, and those that did contain information were...vague, at best. So he'd seen no issue with donning the crown and wearing it with pride. He'd made his rule, as the books had mentioned within his newfound capabilities, and for the short time of having it, Pix had almost enjoyed it. Not the power itself, no. In other circumstances Pix wouldn't dare do such a thing. But in the name of history, he simply had to, if only to keeep the crown's rich tradition alive.

Perhaps it had been this that caused his untimely demise.

During that tea party at Glimmergrove, Pix hadn't initially thought much when he started withering. He'd assumed that Katherine had found him. After all, he had seen that Katherine did kill those that she managed to find. All in good sport, of course. The respawn ability every ruler shared was used not in life-or-death situations, but mostly as a measure of strength; a way to test how long one may survive against a terrible foe, or when they're on the brink of death from poisoning.

But when he did die, he came back...different. A ghost. A spectral figure that startled the other rulers upon seeing him. Pix had, quite literally, become as dead as history. He'd merged with it. Was that meant to be his fate all along? Condemned to live as a ghost after a light-hearted discovery and some innocent tradition-upkeeping? That didn't seem fair to him.

Scott had the crown now. At first he hadn't meant to acquire it. He'd simply stood nearby and accidentally retrieved the fallen things of the late Pix. And that meant he had to put out his own decree for the other rulers to follow. There wasn't anything he really wanted. Scott was a collector at heart; an adventurer. He'd spent a large part of his life travelling, permanently borrowing artefacts and living freely. It hadn't really been his intention to become King of Chromia, but he took it in his stride. In fact, he had been planning to continue his streak of permanently borrowing other people's possessions. So for now, he administered a simple task: build a statue, building or other form of structure for Chromia. He'd laid out the borders, and left it at that.

But upon his return home, he'd encountered a most peculiar note left for him. It requested that he create a Brown Mooshroom and take it to a place called the Hollow. Scott knew something bad or risky when he saw it. And this note definitely had sinister connotations. Would this lead to his death the same way Pix had perished? There was no real way to tell for sure.

The crown was laced in malice. None would know this. Perhaps a demon from the days of the past had cursed it. A demon that had cursed it as a last resort in case he was sentenced to death.

Who knows? All we know for sure was one thing.

That gold, the very gold within the crown, was appealing to all rulers.