Of Witches and Crafting [SI Multicross]

Of Witches and Crafting;
Or, how I am joining the bandwagon to get out of my funk.
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Dear Journal:

Today I have finally managed to create paper and adquire ink (coal is quite messy), and thus I created you. It's only been three days and the loneliness is already jarring. I wonder, was this a curse? Or was it a blessing?

Waking up in the middle of a god-forsaken island is bad enough. But waking up with super powers? That is actually a god-send. Mixed signals, whomever did this. Mixed signals.

Adapting hasn't been hard, I remember most of the basic recipes of Minecraft to thrive on and reality seems to bend so that all I touch works on it's own twisted logic. I could easily make piles of dirt with my hands that act as, well, piles of dirt. Or I could place perfect one by one squares of dirt that hovered if I destroyed what was below them. And the dirt couldn't be scrapped until the block was destroyed.

I know which one I liked better.

My biggest problem was actually accepting how much I changed.

The first time I looked upon my reflection, I saw a stranger. Gone was my figure and my breasts. My raven locks and my brown eyes. Instead, my whole body had become lithe and androgynous, Elvish even. Beautiful on it's own way, but at the same time just not exactly human.

And while my now small breasts still defined me as a woman, just putting a slightly loose shirt would confuse anyone. Furthermore my hair now was long. Very, very, long. In it's braid it already reached my lower back, and no matter how much I cut it, it always grew back when I less expected it. And whenever that happened, it braided itself too! Weird.

Still, ignoring the strange magic on my now silky smooth and fabulous hair, it also made me standout. It was a blueish-white color, with a pink highlight. And it was all natural, the carpets matched the drapes.

But beyond those details, what shocked me the most was my eyes. They were an impossible bright blue that mesmerized me, and their pupils where squared.

I had no doubt I wasn't human anymore. I am not sure exactly what I am, but I have become my Minecraft character.

And I thanked the Gods that at least Zombies and Skeletons weren't spawning every night.

The moment I realized what I had become I started gathering resources like a madwoman. I punched each and every single tree of this island, the whole 16 of them, and started to craft. My first goal was simple, creating a shelter. And it didn't take long. At all. Immediately after, I replanted each each sapling that dropped from the trees in a convenient grid near my home. When night came and no undead raised, I felt a little silly. But better safe than sorry.

A day passed as I constructed a farm and a palisade, which against all reason is able to produce vegetables within a day. The next day I played around with my abilities and mapped the island I was in.

It was small, but the enormous meteor caught my attention. Just in case, I set up a bookmark.

Maybe I will be able to find a way to get out and come back later, maybe not.

That was also was the same day that I found sugarcane on an isolated chunk of land and crafted you, my Journal.

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Mr. Journal, sorry for not talking with you lately!

I kind-of went underground. And went deeper. And deeper. And then came back to smelt up a hammer, and went deeper again. And again. And didn't stop... Sorry.

I'm not sure how much time has passed, it could have been a day. It could have been a month. It's quite hard to measure such things in the depths of a mineshaft, all I can say is that my stack of baked potatoes disappeared.

But now I have resources! And lots!

My smeltery is complete! Also, a coke oven to treat coal and wood!

And I found out a lot more about myself!

To start with, I definitely do not need to breath. Or at least on the traditional sense since I can drown; I'm quite sure that a breathable atmosphere does not exists so deep into the earth and after so much time and exertion. Oh! And I don't get tired! At all!

I'm quite sure I don't need to sleep either, that's what messed up my internal clock when I just didn't stop mining.

I am slowly progressing, and my tree farm is growing exponentially. The fuckers are literally saplings one moment, and tress the next. It's fucking magic, not that I am complaining. If it weren't for the magic chests, I wouldn't know what to do with so much stuff.

But as it is, I have a goal.

To get the fuck out of here!

___
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My Beloved and Only Journal:

I have finished it. It's not big, and I know fuck about making boats. But I did it! I built a one-mast sailboat, and it apparently works!

It's all made of treated wood, it's keel and hull reinforced with steel plates. Just two sub-levels, and my room on the deck. The whole bottom of the ship is just big enough to fit it full of chests, all of them filled with necessities and resources for a long voyage on the sea. The second level, well. More chests of course, but I also added a small smelter, tool benches, furnaces, and a very small emergency farm.

I don't have illusions of how long it could take me to reach land. If I where on Earth it could even take me more than a year, but I don't even know where I am. That is why I'm taking a couple dozen of lava buckets and strip mining the dirt on one of the hills of this island before leaving.

Better safe than sorry.

I'm not quite sure one woman can even control such a ship alone, but fuck it. I will set sail, head towards where the sun comes out and hope for the best. If I find land? Fucking crash on it, no need to attempt to dock this ship all in my lonesome.

Still, I am going to wait a little longer. The most difficult task, believe it or not, was getting the ropes and sails. There aren't handy spiders on the island. There aren't any sheep.

It was only by sheer luck that I found a small silk worm after taking down a tree that allowed me to do this. I shall wait until I have at least chest full of silk before leaving, which is not going to be that hard considering how many trees I now have infested the island with.

After everything I've done losing my sails and ropes, and not having backups, would be plain embarrassing.

 

November 21, 1602. Dusk.

It's the 74th day since we launched from Harwhich. We are still on the 46th degree north line of Latitude, heading at 270° degrees, veering south east. The sea is still high, the winds are strong and the ocean color is a dull grey-green. According to the rutters I was given, we should be arriving to the New World soon, but the question is when?

The ship has same rigging as before. We are Briskly about two leagues, each of three miles the hour. We should have listened, crossing the Atlantic in winter was a fool's errand.

Sir Walter Raleigh, god bless his soul, gave us the chance. We might have thrown it away in our haste.

Tonight another four men died from the scurvy, Alexander Potter, Captain of The Dove. Jho——–

"Captain!" A man suddenly exclaimed, making me stop writing. He was Roberto de la Costa, an eager boy that volunteered in helping sail the ship.

"Roberto, what brings you here?" I asked as the ocean breeze made my bones shiver. I hugged my coat closer to my body and craned my neck.

"I can take your watch, if you wish."

I sighed, if he wanted just to stay up here he didn't need permission. "Which is the true reason, my boy?"

He looked away from me and stared at the sea. I knew those eyes too well. "Below the deck it reeks of death."

Too many deaths on this voyage, I tough. All thanks to an upstart Captain-General trying to confront those dammed Spaniard galleons for some extra wealth.

I am now the Captain of a dead fleet. One ship left out of six, and twenty four men from a crew of one hundred and twenty four. Of which only thirteen men can walk, the rest are moaning for food and water in their deathbeds.

No food, almost no water. And what there is, rotten and foul.

"If you can reach the crow's nest feel free to stay there, otherwise go bother someone else, boy. The Bow's lookout might want some company unlike myself." I grumbled at him. He couldn't be older than sixteen, the least I could do was give him some leeway.

The boy nodded in delight and climbed quickly. If anyone manages to survive, it might be him. I looked down, and continued writing.

—Jhonson Black, 3rth mate. William Falkner, and Robert Davenham, seamen. Their bodies were cleaned, and thrown to the sea without wrappings, for we have none. May God have mercy on their souls.

Suddenly the ship heeled in a surprising squall, and I held onto the arm of my chair until the ship righted. Nailed near the wheel on the quarterdeck, this was my favorite spot on the ship.

But famished, mouth and body aching from scurvy, I forced myself to stand up. And then forced my brain to check our course in haste. If we deviated, if only a little, we might not ever reach the mythical New World.

If we could only reach land within four days, we might survive!

After checking that everything was alright and reorienting the ship, I stood up and went down the companionway into the main deck. The sails were trimmed, the wheel lashed secure. No loose ropes or anything amiss.

It wasn't until I was rising back to the quarterdeck, that I tought my eyes were fooling me. It was already dark, and on the distance I could see a light.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes to make sure, before shouting. "Etienne! De la Costa! Do you also see the light towards the stern!"

It took a few seconds before I heard a gleeful "Aye!"

It didn't me a second to run up the quarter deck and start ringing the ship's bell frantically. "All hands on deck! We might not yet die today!"

Groggily, the men walked onto the deck, and as we started to maneuver towards the light, hope rose on my heart. Time passed, and we were steadily catching up. It wasn't until the morn that we identified the light as another ship.

"Captain, the ship is flying no visible colors. And I do not recognize the type at all!" The lookout exclaimed as sunlight revealed her to us. I took out an spyglass from my own belt, and turned towards the ship.

Square rigged, single mast, no visible canon ports, size of a caravel, a castle on the aft and quite blocky. I had never seen such a badly built ship in all my life, but I was glad for it. Otherwise we never would have caught up such a small ship.

Strangely, I could see no men on the ship either.

"Raise a white flag! Someone prepare a cannon to catch their attention!" I shouted as I continued observing the ship.

The flag was hoisted, and we shot one time. No reaction, no men coming up.

"Another one!" I exclaimed, and thus we shot again. I was beginning to fear that this ship had met the same fate as us, but as I debated on whether to keep shooting or not, a figure came out of the castle.

He walked clumsily, and fell over at least once. I don't think he even noticed us as he stared at the distance for a few long moments before acting. The sail was raised in haste, and the ship turned toward us.

I was a little worried about the behavior of the man, and about the fact that apparently he was the only one on board. At least they likely had booze, if it was any consolation

Slowly, we maneuvered the ship for an encounter as the unknown vessel came to a halt.

"Ahoy, stranger!" I shouted once we were within a short distance. The man (or was it boy?) had a youthful appearance on his face, but his white hair was clear to anyone to see. "We come in peace and seek help!" I shouted as he simply stared at us, taking a drink from a flask on his hands.

"A-are you pirates?!" He replied back with a strangely accented English, "Are you here to steal my goods and defile my body?!"

"We are but mere travelers in need seeking to reach the New World!" I exclaimed back, only for the man to start having a laughing fit.

"B-bad luck!" he drawled taking another swing of his drink, "I-I am Elizabeth Sswa—" (she?!) started before shaking (her?!) head, "Today I am Elizabeth Turner, the Pirate Queen! Hail me and you may get One Piece!" she exclaimed as she started swinging a sword, before hastily adding, "Oh, yeah. All your booty also belongs to me!"

As my men looked at each other, and then back to the drunken madwoman, I felt a pit on my stomach. Surely she must had gone mad after the crew died, "I'm sorry ma'am, but desperate times call for desperate measures." I hailed back, at the same time I pulled out my flintlock pistol and fired at them.

The shot, against all odds, flew true and struck her. "Boarding action boys!" I exclaimed, "Let's see if we can find any food!"

 

So definitely modded then, I can identify Applied Energistics 2 (meteor), Immersive Engineering (treated wood, steel/coke oven alone could've been railcraft), Tinker's Construct (hammer/smeltery), Archimedes' Ships? (made a ship) and most significantly Ex Nihilo (silk worms).

Ex Nihilo though, do you want to break the world? Because that's how you break the world.

Presumably Minecraft health systems or something let you survive here? Because otherwise you're in serious trouble here. Although with Immersive Engineering you should've been able to build guns, got a handheld railgun hidden below deck somewhere? Seems all interesting though, have to watch to see if it pans out or dies and all.

 

What's the worst that could happen?