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Diary of a Warrior Villager – Book 1
**Over 15,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
Ru is a young villager who wants to be a WARRIOR!
He loves when traveling knights visit his family’s blacksmith shop, and longs to be a warrior like them. In fact, Ru wants to be a warrior so badly that he practices in secret with his uncle’s old sword, until he gets in trouble with his family! Villagers are a people of peaceful traders, and there’s no room for violence in villager life!
But when the mobs around town suddenly become more aggressive for no apparent reason, and everything in the boy’s life is turned upside down, will Ru really appreciate finally getting the chance to test his warrior skills?
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Diary of a Warrior Villager – Book 2
**Over 18,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
The Journey of Ru
Bound and determined to find the fabled restoration technique to turn his zombie parents (and other afflicted villagers) back into living people again, Ru sets off, alone, on a great journey. The Warrior Villager is traveling to a distant village where a legendary librarian has a collection of knowledge so vast that he must have the secrets of the cure!
But how will a young villager who’s never left his home before be able to endure the struggles along with way? How will he avoid getting lost in the mountains, or killed by roaming spiders? How will he protect himself if he’s caught out in the wilderness at night? And if he manages to reach the distant village, how will young Ru deal with the surprise waiting for him there?
Love Minecraft adventure??
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Diary of a Warrior Villager – Book 3
**Over 20,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
The Apple Prize and Spider Eyes!
Ru, Jack, and the ocelot Smudge finally made it to the Big Village, only to find that the legendary librarian they were seeking is now a witch! And when Bindr the witch joins their cause, revealing what Ru has to do to save his parents, will a novice witch give them the edge they need to gather the ingredients required to turn Ru’s mom and dad and everyone else back to normal?
And when some unforeseen horsing around ruins some of their progress, how will Ru the warrior villager free his parents from the zombie curse with so much going wrong?!
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Diary of a Warrior Villager – Book 4
**Over 22,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
Gold in the Lost Mine
Ru, Jack, and Bindr (and Smudge the ocelot!) were on their way back to Ru’s village to FINALLY cure his parents and the other villagers of the zombie curse when a herd of wild horses ate the golden apples they needed! Oh no!
Now their desperate idea to replace the lost gold leads the group to an abandoned mineshaft to search deep within the world. Will they find the gold they need to make more golden apples and save Ru’s Mom and Dad? And can the novice warrior villager overcome whatever monsters lurk deep down in the Lost Mine?
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THIS SERIES HAS A BOX SET! (Books 1-4)
COMING SOON **Over 70,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book BOX SET is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
Books 1-4 of “Warrior Villager” Minecraft Diary Book Series in ONE!!!
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Read the Books 1-4 BOX SET of The Warrior Villager – SOON!
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Diary of a Warrior Villager – Book 5
**Coming Soon**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
A Witchy Conspiracy
Ru is recognized as a mighty warrior, and his mom and dad have been healed of the zombie curse! Ru the warrior villager is recognized as a hero! So everything is great, right?? Well, not yet. Bindr–his witch friend–is still missing…
But when Jack and Ru go off looking for their missing friend, the trail leads into a very witchy swamp, and what they find there points the warrior villager and his friends to a nasty conspiracy involving kidnapped witches! Will Ru and Jack free Bindr? And what does the enslavement of the region’s witches mean for Ru’s village and his people?
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Read Book 5 of Minecraft Diary of Warrior Villager soon!
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Book One Preview
Clang. Clang! CLANG!
The sound of the hammer hitting iron horseshoes rang in my head.
It seemed there was always clanging or smiting or the crackle of fire ringing in my ears…
“Ru! Put some more fuel on, the fire is not hot enough,” my brother Brew shouted. He didn’t pause in his hammering, beating the hot metal into the open oval shapes beloved by horses everywhere.
I sighed and let go of the bellows to heap some more fuel onto the flame, then picked up the bellows again.
“Only twenty-one more shoes, then we can start trading,” he yelled cheerfully. “Your favorite thing, Ru!”
“That is SO not true…” I started to sputter, but stopped when I saw Brew’s mischievous grin.
“I know … you hate it as much as I do. But it’s all part of…”
“…Being a blacksmith,” we finished together.
“And a blacksmith’s work is never done, as long as monsters can see the sun,” I added.
“Lame, but true. Let’s switch,” he said, “My arm is getting tired.”
Brew and I changed places, him picking up the work of fueling and running the bellows to fan the flame.
I picked up a lump of iron with the tongs and thrust it into the fire until it turned a hot glowing red. I loved the color and the fierceness of molten metal. It was angry. A lot like how I felt at having to do this stupid job.
With the hammer in my other hand, I began shaping the metal. The hammer was heavy and fell down to earth with a swoosh, which was satisfying.
As I beat the metal, turning it with the tongs, I created a little song in my head.
I … clang…
hate … clang…
Smithy … clang…
Work … clang…
I’d … clang…
Rather … clang…
Be out … clang…
Fighting … clang…
But as long … clang…
As Im told … clang…
I will continue … clang…
Iron Smiting … clang…
“Good rhythm there, Bro,” Brew said. If only he could hear my little song! “You’ve got a lot of strength—more than me. Remember to keep swapping arms so you don’t end up with a giant one and a puny stick…”
We finished up the work, swapping roles as we tired, and switching the tools from our left hand to our right and back again.
The Village would be full of tourists wanting to trade, and they always needed horseshoes and other armor.
The thing was, I wasn’t allowed to make any of the cool things, like weapons. That privilege was reserved for my father, the head blacksmith in the village. Brew was apprenticing, since he was older than me, and still didn’t get to make weapons, but he at least was learning about them. I felt terribly jealous.
I longed to be able to pick up a sword, one made with the finest balance so it was easy to swing, then chop off a zombie head or two…
But no, we villagers just had to run away, lock ourselves indoors and avoid any challenge. Boring! Where was the adventure, the fun? My anger turned to depression with nothing but endless days of making horseshoes on my horizon. The clanging continued.
Finally, our work was done, and we went into the house to have lunch.
“How did it go?” Mom asked, putting our plates on the table.
“Pretty good,” Brew answered. “We’re well stocked and ready. “
Mom looked at me rather worriedly. She never worried about Brew who loved—and I mean loved—the family business.
“You okay Honey?” Mom asked. She had noticed my glower.
In reply, I picked up a piece of bread and stuffed it into my mouth, then nodded. “Sure,” I said with my mouth full.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said automatically. My tactic distracted her from probing for more, as I knew it would.
Brew winked at me, and chowed down on some mutton chops.
Then it was time to get ready to trade; to change into clean clothes, fill our inventory and head out into the village square. It was a beautiful day. Strangers from all over filled the market. I loved watching people, especially the knights.
There was one in particular I found fascinating. He wore full diamond armor, and you could tell he was a mighty warrior. He confidentially looked around at all of the villagers. There was no fear in his gaze, and he walked with great strides.
When the Diamond Knight stopped in front of the baker to purchase some food, he stood and sparkled in the sunlight…
My imagination sparkled too at the sight of him. What great monsters had he destroyed? Hordes of zombies, I bet, and creatures I’d heard about but never seen! Ones I’d never even heard of, perhaps! Had he been in the mountain, or deep down in the caves?
Brew nudged me. “Pst, Ru! He’s coming over!”
The Diamond Knight strode over to us and stopped, looking down at us with piercing eyes through the slits of his helm.
“Blacksmiths?” he queried in a booming, commanding voice.
“Yes sir,” Brew replied, after clearing his throat.
“May I see your weapons and horseshoes, if you don’t mind…?” He grinned, suddenly becoming human, and his strong white teeth flashed. “I am always in need of weapons.”
Brew starting showing him our inventory, and I devoured every move the knight made.
I watched how he picked up our finest sword, checked to make sure no one was standing behind him, then swung it around in giant circles, testing its balance. I studied how he checked the blade to make sure that there were no faults, and whether or not the grip fit both hands…
“Feels good. I’ll take it,” he said. “Is your father the famous blacksmith Cru?”
“Yes, I am his son, Brew, and this is my little brother, Ru.”
The Knight turned to assess me. I was taller than my brother, and strong from years of smithy work. I tried not to flinch or blush.
“You look like a fighter, Ru. Ever picked up a sword?”
Brew gasped in horror. “Sir, we villagers do not fight. Ever.”
“A thousand apologies, lad. I did not mean to offend you. Here, let me take some more of your glorious items, and perhaps you will forgive an old and tired warrior.”
We then began a huge and lively barter session with the Diamond Knight, and the warrior ended up leaving with three swords, loads of arrows, and all of our horseshoes.
“I have ten battle horses,” he said, “and they are always throwing shoes. Good day!”
Ten horses?! Blazes!
After the Diamond Knight left, we returned home, whooping in excitement. We traded more in that day then we had in months!
“Boys, you did well,” Dad said, clapping us on the shoulders and practically knocking us off our feet. “And you say this Diamond Knight liked my sword?” Dad rubbed his hands together gleefully.
“He loved it!” Brew beamed happily. “He said he’d be back for sure!”
“Donna, did you hear that?” Dad asked, lifting Mom up and spinning her around, her feet swinging in the air. She laughed uncomfortably, trying to get down. “Back for sure!”
“Cru, I’m so happy for you!” she replied. “Your weapons are magnificent, and you deserve it!”
After Dad put Mom back down and squeezed her a couple of times, he turned to me and said, “One day Ru, if you put your mind and heart to it, you can make weapons. And one day, maybe a sword of yours will see battle!”
Mom clapped her hands, “Wouldn’t that be great, Ru?”
I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Of course, Mom.”
Of course, I didn’t want to send a sword of my own making into battle. I wanted to wield it…
“In fact,” Dad added, “Maybe it’s time you started your apprenticeship? You can run bellows for Brew and I. How about it Son?”
There was a lot more whooping and hollering, then Dad said, “Now, let’s go out for dinner to celebrate!” That showed how happy he was, because we never went out for dinner.
I pretended to be happy with the rest of them for the whole meal, laughing and joking, and acted excited about starting to make weapons, but inside, I was seething…
I didn’t want to make weapons. I wanted to be a warrior! How could they not know me enough to understand that?!
That night, lying in bed and looking out the window at the stars, I decided that I would teach myself to fight…
I listened to the zombies roaming around, knocking on doors, and I thought about what it would be like to fight them, instead of just running away, or waiting until they turned into ash in the morning sun. Oh, to slice their heads off, or hammer them until they exploded! Such sweet thoughts…
Finally, I fell asleep, and dreamed about diamonds and gold armor and horses stomping their feet to the beat of the hammer, glowing with red hot fire…
The morning routine was a little different the next day, because it was the beginning of my new role. I ran the bellows and watched while my brother and Dad took scrap metal and beat it into pointy shapes.
“Now pay attention,” my father told me, the sweat running down his face. “Listen to everything we say and watch our movements. You’ll be amazed at how much you absorb.”
It was the most boring thing in the world, but I pretended to be interested.
When we took a break, I activated my plan. In the back of the smithy was a big barn used to store our supplies and test the new weapons. (If only I could test the weapons, but no—villagers did not do such things…) I spent a couple of days designing a scarecrow figure, and kept it hidden behind some hay bales used for target practice. I pieced together some armor, and even drew a face. Mom was a painter, and I stole some of her green paint and made it look like a zombie. I named it Zillow. I liked to name things.
What I did next was a little terrible, and I knew that if I were to get caught, I’d be in huge trouble!
I ‘borrowed’ a sword from Dad’s collection. It was a small one, and it was in the back of the shop underneath some other things, so I prayed that he wouldn’t notice.
But I needed it—I needed to hold a sword. I had to…
Every chance I got after that, I went out and took a couple of whacks at Zillow, and I tried to figure out how to use that little sword. Most of the time, I’d do more sawing then slicing. It was easy to reattach Zillow’s head when I needed to, or stuff more hay into the torso.
Days went by, and I started to get better. It was so much fun. But then, one day, something terrible happened. The worst thing I could imagine…
I got caught.
I was having a grand fight with Zillow. Dad and Brew were working on something in the shop, and Mom was in the garden. Zillow was being very aggressive, and taunting me with names. One of those times I thought I imagined Zillow yelling at me turned out to be a real voice—voices in the barn!
It’s easy to admit now that I panicked. Instead of stopping my swing in mid-air as soon as I heard my dad’s voice, and hiding until he went away, I jerked out the sword’s blade, and chopped Zillow’s head clean off! It went flying out from behind the hay, rolling and rolling until it stopped at my dad’s feet, staring up at him blindly…
I popped my head out to see what had happened, and saw my Dad’s face change from surprise to fury.
“What in the blazes is this?!” he yelled, picking up the head. When Dad said the word blazes, you knew you were in for it. “Ru. Do not move…”
Dad stomped toward my hiding place, and Brew followed miserably behind.
Looking down at Zillow and my little nest of weapons and armor, then seeing his own sword—which I was stupidly still holding in my hand—Dad silently fumed…
There were a million things I could have done—hidden the sword while he was stomping over, or run for the hills to name two. But I didn’t do anything. I only stood there, frozen in fear.
“Oh, blazes…” I heard Brew whisper. My brother’s words kind of popped me out of my stupor. I dropped the sword and ran for the hills. Well, not literally. I actually ran up into my bedroom, past Mom who was holding bunches of lettuce. I slammed the door, then stood there, shaking.
“What’s going on?” I heard Mom say. There was a murmur of voices. Then silence. That was scarier than anything…
Chapter 2
Nothing happened. I don’t mean that I wasn’t in trouble, but no one came to my room. No one pounded on the door. No one spoke coldly, or yelled.
It was the worst punishment I’d ever received, even worse than the time I’d let all the rabbits loose and they ate the garden.
Time passed, and it grew dark. There wasn’t much to do in my room. Look out the window. Lie down on the bed. Look at the wood in the ceiling. Lie on the floor. Look out the window again.
I started to get hungry, and my mind started having conversations with my dad—trying to explain to him; wondering what he would say…
Eventually, I couldn’t stand it and cracked the door open. The clink of dishes told me that it was dinner time. I couldn’t stay up there forever, and besides, I smelled my favorite food: roast chicken.
Mom probably cooked it to lure me down. Or maybe I would get down there and I wouldn’t get to eat any; I’d just have to sit there and watch them eat.
I tiptoed to the head of the stairs and peeped down.
They were all sitting at the table. My place was set, and I could just see the corner of my dad’s sleeve.
I slid quietly into my wooden chair, careful not to let it scrape on the floor. I didn’t look at anyone.
Brew kicked me under the table, which made me feel better. But no one spoke to me. When I finished eating, I peeped at my mom. Her eyes were red and it made me feel terrible.
Eventually, I slid back upstairs, wondering how long this silent treatment would last.
Why was it so terrible to want to be a hero? I felt so mixed up with guilt and anger. Why was I so different? I didn’t know a single other villager who felt the way I did and wanted to be a warrior.
But it was ridiculous to make weapons and not be able to use them…
Night came and went, zombies growled and moaned, and I didn’t sleep a wink.
The next morning, I went to breakfast, and Brew was the only one down there. He poured me a glass of milk and handed me some fresh bread.
“So Dad’s really mad, then,” I finally mentioned, trying to be as casual as I could.
“Eh … you could say that.” Brew’s voice was flat. I know he was torn, since I was his little brother, and he loved his dad too.
“Sorry, Brew. I don’t mean to put you in the middle.”
Brew stopped eating and gave me a level look. “I know that. I know you’ve been crazy about fighting and adventures ever since you were little. Meeting the Diamond Knight stirred you up too, didn’t it?”
“I can’t help it. “ I looked miserably down at my plate.
Brew patted me on the shoulder as he stood up. “Well, I’m sure things will end up okay. I’m not sure how, but something will happen. Let’s go to work.”
When I arrived at the smithy, Dad was there. “Go away,” was all he said.
“But, Dad!”
“Go away.” Then he turned his back.
Blazes! To be frozen out by my own father. It was agonizing! I went and found Mom.
“Mom?” I was a little hesitant to approach her, but surely she wouldn’t cast out her little boy, right?
Right. Whew! As soon as Mom saw me, she leapt to her feet and grabbed me in a fierce hug. Normally I’d hug her for a few seconds, then break the hold. This time, however, I let her hug me as long as she wanted to.
“Let’s have some tea,” was all she said, and I picked up her gardening basket and followed her to the kitchen.
We didn’t speak while she made tea, but it was a lot more comfortable than the meal last night. Moms are great, warm and cozy. Mine was better than great…
But then, she started a story. I rolled my eyes. She’s great but not perfect. Mom’s stories were LONG…
“When I met your father….” she began and it wasn’t until the second mug of tea that she got to the meat of her tale.
“You’re like your uncle, Ru, and it’s painful for your dad to think of him.”
I was astounded. “I have an uncle?”
“You did.” She looked sad, and swirled her tea.
“What happened? Is he dead?” I just couldn’t believe this. Why had no one ever mentioned to me that my dad had a brother?
After a terribly long—seemed like forever—pause, mom continued. “Your Uncle Bob was a lot like you, not content to be a peaceful villager and continue in the family business, which goes back blah blah blah … but instead of thinking about things, being calm and logical, he was impulsive, and quick to anger. He also wanted to see more of life…”
“That is like me! What happened to him?”
Mom sighed. “He went off to fight in the Skeleton Wars, and never came back. Someone brought his sword back, along with his helmet. We don’t even know where he’d gotten that stuff from…”
I had an awful thought. “The sword I’ve been training with—was that…?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “It belonged to Bob, and that’s all we have left of him. Your dad never spoke about your uncle again after he disappeared.”
“Mom, how do I fix this?” I buried my head in my hands. If I had just listened and never started this training…! Curse my adventurous nature!
“I don’t know, son, but time fixes everything, one way or another.” She patted me on the shoulder, the same way as Brew did. “I’ll speak to your father, and after a bit, we’ll get you talking. Then we’ll see.”
Small comfort, but it helped.
Dad gradually warmed up to me. Actually, it only took two days, and we were acting as if everything was normal again.
But I wasn’t feeling normal at all. If anything, I wanted to train more than ever! It was a burning urge that kept growing. And growing and growing. It was bigger than the Iron Golem that patrolled our village.
I would have to talk to him. Dad, not the Golem.
Courage is a very weird emotion. Standing in front of my father, while he sat gently engraving a piece he was working on, I trembled more at his gentleness then I would have if he’d been yelling. Anger can fuel you, I guess. If my Dad had yelled at me, I could have defended myself.
But I felt helpless and vulnerable approaching him now.
“Dad?”
He ignored me. I persisted.
“Dad!”
He sighed, and looked up. “I guess you’re going to keep trying to talk to me, aren’t you? Wait while I finish this…”
I waited, watching his big hands move with delicacy. Was he wondering about his brother, my uncle?
At last, he stopped, swiveled to face me, and put his hands on his thighs. “Now, what do you want to say to me?”
I swallowed, and said, “I know about Uncle Bob. I know I’m like him, but I can’t help it. I have this urge inside me to do more than this…” I gestured around at all the iron and gold, helmets and knives. “Brew loves this work, but I don’t.”
Dad shook his head sharply, and said, “I’m sorry Ru, but I absolutely forbid you to train, fight, think of fighting, or dream about fighting. It is not right. We are peaceful, intelligent and kind people. It is our way to work hard and trade. Fighting will create more fighting. Fighting will get you killed.”
“But we make weapons!” What kind hypocrisy was this? The anger kicked in. Good.
“We don’t use them.” He said this as if it made perfect sense.
Oh my blazes, I just didn’t understand! “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…?”
“Forget it, Ru. Control it. Push that fire far away. Someday, you will have your own family, and then you’ll understand.”
“And what if I can’t? What if I can’t push it away?”
“You must. That’s all I’m going to say.” Dad stood, and put his arm around me. “You must,” he repeated softly.
But I didn’t see how I could.
Over the next few days, I did try. I took apart poor Zillow and put my training things away—except for the horseshoes. Every time we played the game as a family, I kept seeing zombies instead of posts. Ringing my shoes around their imaginary necks was a little satisfying…
I really wanted to use those heavy horseshoes on a real zombie, because for some reason, the zombies were getting worse. There were more of them, and they seemed faster too. All of the villagers were talking about it in nervous murmurs, and making sure that their doors were nice and secure.
It was weird, but since the zombies weren’t literally getting stronger, they weren’t really a problem. Yet.
All the same, I kept my eyes open, and I always carried a horseshoe, just in case.
It seems like something always happens when you get into a pattern that’s comfortable. Let your guard down, and life just slaps you in the face! Then you wake up.
This particular slap came in the form of another visiting knight—not the Diamond Knight. This warrior was gold, but a particular blackened gold. I’d never seen anything like it.
The Blackened Knight was there at the market, and actually came in search of us.
His eyes were cold, and black like his armor.
“You’re the blacksmith’s boys, aren’t you?” he asked. His voice matched his eyes.
Brew answered with some pride, “Yes, we are.”
“You have a reputation for spectacular swords. Can I see them?”
While Brew showed the dark warrior our inventory, I checked out the Blackened Knight’s armor. He was very different than—as I privately called him—our DK. The Diamond Knight seemed kind and noble, someone to trust. This fellow seemed menacing. I looked over at his horses, and their eyes were shuttered. You can tell a lot about a person by their horses.
Each horse was jet black, all the same size, all wearing the same armor as the knight. Even the attendants were dressed in the same blackened gold color. Overall, the knight and his troop waw very imposing … or menacing.
I wandered over casually and pretended to look at the horse, but I was really interested in the armor. What kind of metal was that? Perhaps gold that had been smudged dark with ash? Couldn’t be ash—it had a little shimmer…
A voice startled me. “Young blacksmith, what do you think of our armor?” The voice had a particular hissing quality, and a shiver ran down my spine. “It’s very special.”
“Wow,” I said as the Blackened Knight walked up behind me. “It’s amazing. I’ve never seen that kind of metal before. What’s it made from?” I looked at the dark warrior. For some reason, he reminded me of a snake with flat eyes and skin that was slightly slimy.
“It’s a secret,” he replied.
I put a hand out to touch it, and he pulled me back.
“Don’t touch,” he added.
Even though I felt a little flush of anger at that, I didn’t give the knight a hard time. I just shrugged, and went back over to stand next to Brew.
My brother had just finished with the knight, and was clearly excited, but trying not to show it.
Once the Blackened Knight and his company was gone, Brew smiled broadly. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, and headed for home at a trot. I followed, but turned for one more look. Part of me felt awakened and brilliantly alert; tingling, and feeling danger and power.
The Blackened Knight was standing further away in the market, watching us leave.
Weird.
…
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