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Editable Books.


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It has come to my attention that the new Snapshot, and soon the new release, will have editable books.

You must be thinking, "WHAT?! That brings... Nothing."


Not if we make a Chunk Republic Lore.


Sadly you can only have 16 characters in a title so it would be shortened to "Chunk Lore: VII" or something.


Oh yes. Expect awesomeness.


EDIT: http://www.mediafire.com/?o920a2u8qfqd31e

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Happened in Skype.


Mythil: "Zoa pressed his diamond knife into Gansta's neck, causing a few drops of blood to bead onto the blade. "Listen closely...if I EVER see you try and leech MY oil from MY land, you won't live to see another day. Got that?" Zoa pulled the knife away and pushed Gansta backwards. "Get the f*** outta here."


Mythil raised his eyebrows."

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Zoa pressed his diamond knife into Gansta's neck, causing a few drops of blood to bead onto the blade. Gansta flinched slightly, but tried to stay still as possible. A good day had gone bad.


"Listen closely...if I EVER see you try and leech MY oil from MY land, you won't live to see another day. Got that?" Zoa pulled the knife away and pushed Gansta to the carpeted ground. "Get the f*** outta here."


Gansta scrambled onto his feet and backed away with his hands held up. “Sorry, okay? Didn’t know I was on your land.”


Zoa gave a look of irritation. “I said-“ Zoa pulled out his bow and notched an arrow. “-get the f*** off my land.”


Gansta held his hands in front of his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going!” He quickly slammed the door behind him open and ran. He rammed his shoulder into Mythil during his retreat through the entrance. Gansta muttered a short apology before running for the hills, quite literally.


Mythil regained his composure and walked inside the main refinery. Raising his eyebrows, Mythil turned to Zoa. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill him. You might be able to break your record of not killing anyone in a morning, seeing that it’s almost noontime,” Mythil mused.


Zoa scoffed as he put away his bow. “And hopefully you have good news to bring for once. What’s up?”


“The villagers still refuse to relocate,” Mythil said with a sigh, “They seem to think if they move, the blessings of the land will not follow something something bullcrap.” Mythil smiled slightly. “Also, they wanted me to tell you that you’re a dick.”


Zoa rolled his eyes. “I keep telling you that we should just nuke the place.” He motioned Mythil to walk with him. Zoa pushed open the double doors at the same time and winced at the bright sunlight. He pulled out his diamond knife and twirled it around his finger. “Any other news? Or is that just it?”


“Lief complained that there was nothing new he could play with, if that counts as anything.”


Zoa wiped the bloody knife on a passing sheep unintentionally dyeing it pink. “Tell him he can use the villagers as test subjects. Kill two birds with one stone that way.”


Before Mythil could respond, a man donning MJOLNIR armor interrupted the conversation with a loud, “HEY!”


Recognizing that voice instantly, Zoa stopped and folded his hands behind him, greatly irritated. “Jonasgrooss.” Zoa said, voice dripping with venom, “What’s up? Actually, never mind, I know EXACTLY why you’re here.”


“The deal still holds,” Jonas announced, “You hand your refinery over to the Republic and you walk away.”


Zoa wandered over to a combustion engine powering a quarry, inspecting it slowly. “And my answer is still no.”


Jonas stiffly walked over and grabbed Zoa by the shoulder and yanked Zoa to face him. “This isn’t an option. Wabuf is being generous here.”


With a sigh, Zoa locked eyes with Jonasgrooss. “Then I have a message for Wabuf.” With a swift motion, Zoa stabbed his diamond knife into a weak point in Jonas’s armor before pushing Jonas to the edge of the quarry.


Jonas gasped for breath seeing that the knife had punctured his lung. He weakly struggled to grasp onto Zoa as he started to lose his balance.


“Tell Wabuf that he can go to hell,” Zoa hissed.


Zoa shoved Jonas back, dropping him into the quarry.


Jonas grasped at the air, desperate to grab onto something. Jonas yelled with his remaining voice. “THIS ISN’T THE LAST YOU SEE OF-“


A sickening crunch was heard as Jonasgrooss smashed into the bedrock, exploding into a shower of items.


Mythil peeked over the edge of the quarry. “Well, so much for not killing anyone in the morning.” He glanced sideways at Zoa. “You know this means war.”


Zoa spat down the quarry. “I don’t give a damn. You underestimate me.” He turned away from the quarry and walked away before abruptly stopping. “Ah, shoot.” Zoa retraced his steps and stared down the quarry. “My knife is down there.”

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o 3o




The Philosopher’s Stone: a legendary alchemical substance said to be capable of turning base metals, such as lead, into gold and silver. An item supposedly believed to be the elixir of life, used to rejuvenation and achieving immortality. It was the most coveted element in the world.


And he held it in his hand.


Jman turned the red, glowing stone over, gazing at its beauty. Years of work and research had cumulated into this artifact. Years of hardship, from mining near the center of the world to traversing hell itself.


Only a year had passed since this discovery, and so many discoveries since. The transmutation tablet, the energy condenser, and yet they had barely tapped into the essence of the stone.


Jman found himself in awe once again, much like the first time he obtained the orb. Thrusting out his hand, the stone changed the stone in front of him into grass, which changed to cobblestone, then back to stone once again. Jman grinned as he turned toward the alter.


On the ground a huge pentagram was carved into the ground, with the five points covered in sacrificial blood. A gallery of enchantments encompassed on the floor of the altar.


Liefdevolle emerged from the dark woods and tossed a bag onto the center. The bag writhed and wiggled as the creature struggled to get out.


“That’s not a chicken,” Jman stated matter-of-factly, “What is that?”


Liefdevolle brushed his hands off. “Mythil said we could use the villagers, since Zoa was going to kill them anyway.” Liefdevolle scratched his head. “The mutation should work anyway.”


“…I thought we were going to have fried chicken tonight. You got it on the wrong circle.” Jman pointed behind him and pointed five circles southward. “That’s the mutation circle.”


“Ah. We should really label these.” Liefdevolle picked up the struggling bag, brought it over to the other circle, and unceremoniously dumped the villager there. “We good?”


Jman sighed. He was hungry, but he couldn't pass up this rare situation. “Yeah, you ready?” Jman reluctantly asked.


Liefdevolle nodded and stepped away from the magic circle.


Jman rolled up his sleeves and let out a breath. He held Philosopher’s Stone in front of the circle and started chanting.


The pattern started to glow softly as the blood on the corners started to bubble. Stone changed into sand and changed back again, pulsating between the two elements. Wind extinguished the torches that lined the walls, darkening the ground around them. The clouds above swirled and the trees shook.


Finishing the initial chant, Jman looked up at the sky and yelled the final word. Lightning appeared in the heavens and struck the center of the altar, setting it ablaze. The screams of the villager cried out, but died as quickly as the flames.


After picking himself off the floor, Liefdevolle dusted himself off. He squinted as he gazed into the center of the altar.


The bag had burned off and before the two alchemists, a glowing figure stood.


Facing toward Jman, Liefdevolle stated, “I think that worked?”


The glowing figure approached the two before releasing a blood-curling hiss.


Releasing what it was before Liefdevolle did, Jman managed to scream, “OH EFF WE MADE A CREEP-“


The electrified creeper exploded, blowing the two back and shattering some of the many altars. Liefdevolle collided heavily with a tree while Jman flew into a ditch, face-planting into the dirt.


A minute passed before the two regained their composures.


“Note to self, never do that again,” Liefdevolle wheezed, ears still ringing. “You okay over there?”


“Yeah,” Jman groaned, lifting his face off the dirt.


Liefdevolle staggered to his feet and brushed off his long cloak, which was now full of holes. “We should clean up this mess.”


Jman struggled to get up before deciding that flopping onto his back was good enough. His glowing eyes stared at the twinkling stars above. “After dinner.”

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