The Blood Moon would last three hours. Three hours of danger, fear, and the likely loss of lives.
The hours leading up to the Blood Moon were sheer suspense, for everybody. When the moon's edges began to turn red, Steve and Sky waited for the whole thing to turn red, making routine checks around the small town to make sure everyone was indoors and safe.
The moon was completely red now, and not a bright red, but a literal, dark, blood red. Sky could feel nervousness creep up, but he pushed it away by drawing his sword in the manliest fashion possible.
To their surprise, there was no sudden raid of mobs. At first.
It was all clear for the first forty-five minutes. Then, out of nowhere, a Wither Skull shot between Steve and Sky, striking a poor villager and leaving him in agony. Everybody was confused by it for a moment: Withers usually only attacked from close range, but the book said that mobs would be able to attack from far-off.
“Mobs!” The lookout howled from a nearby rooftop. It was then Steve and Sky knew that what they were facing was real. There was no backing out now.
The Mobs advanced on the village in double time, their strength levels higher than they would be normally. Steve and Sky were crouching behind a small building, avoiding a rain of Wither Skulls.
Some of the villagers were down with no time to help them, and their numbers were decreasing rapidly. Steve or Sky, or anybody else didn't have time to help save them them. It would just mean more people getting hurt.
One of the worst parts of fighting these Blood Moon monsters was that they would come back to life as zombies that were even more bloodthirsty.
The first couple mobs were killed without...
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...and just as he was about to give up, Steve coughed and some of the color returned to his face. He looked around and spoke.
“I think you're gonna need a new sword.” Steve's voice was hoarse.
Sky smiled and promptly slumped over in exhaustion.
“And they never even thanked us, either.” Steve said, finishing Sky's story. They were in another tavern telling their tale.
It took a moment before the drunk people to realize that the story was over, and began talking rapidly and asking Steve and Sky about what happened.
Just as Sky was about to show the crowd the scars on his palms, someone ran into the tavern with a look of panic on his face.
“Wither!” He screamed loudly.
Steve looked at Sky with a smile and they both jumped up and grabbed their weapons. Withers were their specialty, and everyone in Minecraftia knew it.