Ever since Menderman made himself known to the resident mobs of the Overworld, crafters and creatures alike have been asking the same question: Where did Mender’s arms come from? The question went unanswered even as he disappeared, fading from the memories of all he had met. But now, Mender rises from the depths of the forgotten to walk among the living once more, to recall the gruesome tale of…
Menderman’s Arms: Prologue
My story begins not long after I was spawned. For the first few cycles, I encountered only passive mobs, along with vast stretches of barren desert followed by towering mountains. The world I witnessed was magnificent; a pristine and untouched symphony of code and texture.
When I stood atop the edgemost hill of the mountains, I witnessed a sight that proved to be more incredible than any mountain or sand dune. The lush, green expanse of trees stretched beyond my vision and past the boundaries of the chunk. Intricate details crowded every corner of the jungle, pulling my gaze inward, beaconing me. I have found the most stunning place in the Overworld, I thought to myself as I climbed over shrubs and under trees. Nothing could possibly besmirch beauty such as this.