Kill Them? Easy.

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Request from Azizizar

I tried my best to make this as long as it could be, with no time skips. Hopefully you guys like it.  

Also, I want to clarify something here. Yes, I do know that you have to be over the age of 21 IN AMERICA to drink, but bro, medieval times, just like- don't mention it, and if worst comes to worst, THEY'RE IN FUCKING ENGLAND-

(Also, Y/N doesn't drink anything, by Sappy boi might have- That's why I'm putting this here.)

TW: Alcohol, and a Bar/Pub, a lil bit of Blood. Mafia...?

Your POV -.-

It was a dark and stormy night.

Nothing was awake, just how it should be. And yet there was a person, a young one, looking around the age of 15, walking around in the forest, seeming to be prideful and powerful as they walked. 

They looked extremely comfortable as themselves, not care in the world, as if they had already killed everyone else that they needed to worry about. 

Nobody else seemed to be awake, after all if they were they were most likely drinking in a pub, or somewhere actually safe.

If you could call a local pub safe, that is.

The forest might seem dark and mysterious, but once you got to know it you could finally admire the images of... of beauty and life it gave. 

But, like all things, it also portrayed death. 

Skeletons rattled around in the night, appearing from... no where at all.

Zombies wailed in anger, anger that they had died and now had to pay the price of dying. 

Creepers hissed as they stalked around the forest, creeping up on unsuspecting people, their faces blank as they hissed and hissed and hissed until... they blew up, taking down the person and themselves. 

Witches cackled and snuck around the forest, not too far from where they lived, but alas they lived close enough to men to be able to bewitch them. 

Then there were the all mystical and magical tall and sleek black men who went around at night as well, teleporting here and there, dodging blows from the other monsters in the night. 

These were called Enderman.

Not many were seen at any time, day or night, but they still lived in the same places that people did. 

If you caught sight of them then... you were supposedly blessed. It was very rare to see these mysterious sleek black men.

There were legends and tales about what they used to be, about what they had been.

The most believed myth of these was the one that told the story of how these men came to be, how they became Endermen. 

Men, like the ones who roam the lands now, lived in small villages compared to the large and beautiful cities and kingdoms we have now. 

They lived in small groups, never seeing another man out of their own village, living in close quarters and trying to stay safe.

This was when wretched Witches were many, when they were more powerful over men. 

And one dark and dreary night they hosted a coven, gathering all the Witches together  and deciding to attack mankind.

They were going to kill village by village, not trying to attack too many at once as they knew that they would surely lose. 

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