#edolas tango

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Finale

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU by @theguardiansofredland )

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No blurb this time, just enjoy the soft, short finale that this is. Thank you to everyone who came with us on this journey, seeing your reactions and love of the story has made my day and really encouraged me to want to write more. I also can’t thank Red enough for letting me write this tale, all it’s ups and downs and the great ideas that he’s come up with. 

Keep your eyes out for other works of the Edolas Hermits, writings of the hermits, as well as original works like Wandering Stars! 

Thank you...and enjoy.

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He’s warm, cozy and at ease. He doesn’t feel pain- only comfort. This must be it. Impulse died. He survived escaping a dystopian city, being chased through the wilderness, and delving into a whole different world to die by hypothermia. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, to face what has to be the truth. 

But the curiosity gets the best of Impulse. He peeks through one eye, before opening both. He’s in the infirmary. Hooked back up to the same heart rate monitor, the same saline bag. But this time, in the morning light tracing across the white floors. Illuminating two faces, resting on the bed right next to him. White wings wrap around both, acting as a blanket. 

Tango and Zedaph. Impulse moves closer, noticing that both their hair is wet. Not like they were in the shower. Like they were caught outside. In the snow. Their shoes squeak as they shift, fast asleep. Tango and Zed found Impulse. They followed him, they found him. They knew him well enough to know where he’d go, long after they lost visual of him. They knew how to find their best friend. 

Tears well in Impulse’s eyes. It really was them. It has to be. Somehow, they’re here. Reincarnated, his friends till the end and beyond. They’re here, with him. They may look different, but he knows it’s them. Their presence is all he has to comfort him, so for once- he lets himself believe a lie. Let that lie become his reality, his conspiracy. These are his friends, not another world’s. 

He is Edolas Impulse. 

A moment later, Impulse realizes that it’s not just his best friends beside him. The constant ticking of a clock, monotone clicks at a rhythmic, steady pace create a soft tune with Impulse’s monitor. The sound of a clock soothes Impulse. Time passes, so it must be real. Each second is another second alive, each moment another to spend with his rediscovered friends. Impulse looks around, trying to find where the sound is coming from. 

Xisuma is standing at the foot of his bed. Impulse leaps out from under the covers, nearly yanking his IV to fall. He grabs it before it can hit Zed, waking up the tired souls. In Xisuma’s hand, he’s holding a clock. 

No, not just any clock. Impulse’s clock. He holds the brass sundial out, fingers unclasping from the sides like a flower in bloom. “It’s very good redstone work. I’ve never seen such a compact system. The gears were a little dented, but I was able to work out the dimples and scratches. Hopefully...hopefully you don’t mind the little bit of gold I used to fix where it broke open.” 

Impulse crawls forward, carefully plucking the clock from Xisuma’s hand. He flinches as his fingers brush along the scientist’s palm. But they aren’t cold and angry like the ones he felt way back in the city. They were warm, and shaking a little. Actually, quite a lot. Impulse can’t help but giggle at how spazzy this Xisuma was. “You fixed it?” 

“Tango found it, and he asked me to see what I could do. I’m...I’m sorry about scaring you. I have the tendency to do that to people…” Impulse draws the clock close, letting the ticking movement of the sun across the face to fall in sync with his heartbeat. This clock, his first invention and his last gift, meant so much more to him now. He has to keep it ticking. 

“Thank you, Xisuma.” Impulse whispers, looking up and smiling. It’s going to take Impulse some time to truly get over the traumas of his past, but he feels he can trust this Xisuma. He fixed his clock, and he can see that same spark in the scientists’ eyes that he feels in his own. He wants to help people, in his own unique way. 

And maybe, in time, he can learn to trust Doc and Cub as well. If Tango and Zed trusts them, then he can at least make an effort.

Tango’s wings shuffle against the hood of Zed’s brown alb, shattering the silence and bringing the erratic, shaking ferality of the mad scientist. He clambers over Impulse’s bed, crouching before the plate of warm breakfast food on the bed stand. “Muffin?” 

It takes Impulse a few seconds to realize what’s happening. “Oh! Oh, yeah...go ahead. Enjoy it.” 

Xisuma cheers, shoving the massive baked good into his mouth and scrabbling along the wall. Sharp nails dig into the paint and concrete, till he clambers to the window. Xisuma crawls through the glass on all fours, the muffin still in his mouth. A very strange man...cryptid thing.. indeed- but with a good heart. 

Impulse turns back to his friends, still well under the spell of sleep. And watching their chests rise and fall, Impulse feels sleep tug him back into it’s clutches. He grabs the pillows from his bed, pulling the monitor and IV drip over to the other occupied bed. He’s careful not to get his bandages caught on Tango’s wings, careful not to jab Zed with his bony limbs as he clambers in between his two best friends. Impulse nestles into their protection, for the first time feeling safe. Safe again with his friends, safe again in this new strange world. For the first time since his exodus, he feels like he has a home. And it’s right here, cuddled with Edolas Tango and Edolas Zed. 

Edolas Impulse drifts off to sleep, for a short time no longer haunted by nightmares and paranoia. He knows it won’t last long, but for now? For now he’s just happy to be with his friends again.

#sorry it's so short #but it's all good things #especially xisuma #i love edolas xisuma #edolas au #edolas hermits #hermitcraft au #edolas impulse #impulsesv #hermitcraft impulse #edolas tango #tangotek #tango tek #hermitcraft tango #edolas zed #zedaph #hermitcraft zedaph #edolas xisuma #xisumavoid #hermitcraft xisuma

[theguardiansofredland]

Angst???? Explain please

Mm it’s kinda hard to explain Dystopian boy but I can try for Edolas Zed and Tango.

There was an Impulse in the Edolas world before our dystopian boy came along. The three were out in a boating trip. Zed was supposed to check the boat and Tango was supposed to remind him. Neither happened. The boat sank. Tango and Zed were trapped under rubble, tangled up in the sails. Impulse was able to free them, but in turn he became trapped. His leg broken by the mast and tangled in the sails. They were running short on air. Time was running out. With a comforting smile Impulse tells his friends to head for the surface. Zed and Tango protested but Impulse wouldn’t have it.

Zed and Tango escaped that day, losing their friend to the waves.

Every day after his death, they perform a tradition taught by Impulse. Write your wish on a piece of paper, fold it, and put it in a bottle. Give it to the sea and let the waves carry it and one day the ocean will grant your wish. So every day they send a bottle out to sea with the same wish. “Bring him back”

#red rambles #edolas hermits #edolas zedaph #edolas tango

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 7

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU by @theguardiansofredland )

It’s all too good to be true. The kindness that has welcomed Impulse in this strange Edolas world. How much he wants to believe them, how much he fears being tricked again. How much he fears being alone again, even when he runs from company. 

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I love a good hurt/comfort, but how about we turn that on it’s head, and give comfort/hurt? FINALLY team ZIT is back together! Only one more part after this, one more part to this story that I’m honored to share. All of these ideas are the creation of Red, from the Edolas characters to the bottle scene, he’s really a clever mind! And I love them! 

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language.

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Impulse has to get out of here. Despite everything around him, all the people around him only offering kindness and calm, Impulse just knows this isn’t right. This has to be some kind of trick, some sort of ploy by the city. None of this is real- not the gentle nature of Cub and Doc, not the quirky scientist that’s become of Xisuma. It’s all fake, it has to be. 

This time, Impulse is smarter about his escape. He removes the needle as carefully as it had been replaced. He wonders who did that- was it this strange Xisuma? Or someone else he’s yet to meet? Impulse also turns off the monitor before removing the clasp around his finger. It’s nighttime, and Impulse is banking on the fact that no one is keeping watch at his bedside to make his escape. 

He messed up. This isn’t the End. According to this weird version of X, they call their world Edolas. That’s not where he was supposed to be. He wants to be in the End, far away from anything and everyone. Just another lost item among the void. Impulse creeps along the hospital floor, resting his hand on the cold metal door handle. In the darkness, the white of his bandages are like beacons, and the haggard white shirt he still wears practically declares where he is. 

Impulse quietly opens the door, looking down the short hall. There’s a door at the other end, and through that window he can see a waiting room. That’s his escape. Impulse scurries across the hall, opening the door and shutting it quickly. 

He’s not alone in the lounge. In the corner, two forms whisper to one another. The lights are off in the building, making it hard to see who they are. But Impulse doesn’t need to see them to know- he can hear their voices. 

“Our prayers have been answered, it’s really him.” Zedaph whispers, looking up to see his friend’s face. 

Tango flutters his angelic white wings, feathers ruffling together. “As much as I don’t want to believe it… he looks like him. He called himself Impulse. Our wishes actually worked.” 

The two turn their heads as they hear a sniffle, peering into the darkness. A pale, thin form stands at the door into the infirmary, eyes welling with tears. He looks like a ghost, and for a minute Tango really thinks that’s what he is. But the broken voice as Impulse speaks is all too real. “T-tango? Zed?”

Impulse stumbles towards them, his legs giving out beneath him. Tango crosses the distance in a few short strides, grabbing hold of Impulse before he can find himself on the floor all over again. Once he’s regained his strength, Tango steps away. Taking in the sight before him. Zedaph steps between the angel and the stranger, staring at him.

It truly looks like their Impulse. That wisping brown hair, ruled by a cowlick that always makes his hair look like he just woke up from a long slumber. A sharp nose set between inquisitive eyes, thin lips hiding dimples between each cheek. Just a little bit taller than Zedaph, and the palest of the three. 

All three have tears in their eyes, welling and falling across their cheeks. All three, going through the same thought process. Is it really them? They thought they’d never see the other again. The silence prolongs, unspoken questions shared among each face. 

Zed steps forward, daring to break the distance between himself and the ghost before him. He reaches out, placing a shaking hand to rest on Impulse’s cheek. The room goes quiet, Impulse shrinking away from physical contact. But, after a second, he can’t hold back. He leans into the warm, comforting touch of his long lost friend’s hand. 

Tango’s hand reaches up to cover his mouth, agape as all three finally lock eyes, and realize what they see is real. They’re really there, it’s not some horrible nightmare or a ghost. Impulse reaches up, taking a light hold on Zed’s hand as his eyes rove across Tango. Zed’s hand reaches up, grabbing hold of his chest, trying to be still the leaping of his heart. “Impulse?”

Cascading streams streak down their cheeks, all three collapsing into each other’s arms and to the floor. Crying and bundling close. The gang is finally back together, the unstoppable trio, shattered and glued back together through sheer will, prayer, and luck. Massive white wings, plumaged with soft feathers wrap around the other two, holding them into a hug. Whispers of disbelief and relief mutter across the darkness, punctuated by sniffles and short bursts of laughter. 

For Tango and Zedaph, it’s every wish, every prayer finally answered. Impulse has returned to them. Years and years of mourning, of wondering how they could possibly fix what they did wrong, and now he’s finally in their arms again. They can finally see his smile, the warmth of his laughter. They were a set, three pieces. And without the last one, they were incomplete. 

For Impulse, it’s a dream too good to be true. That Tango and Zed also escaped the city, made it to this strange new world like him. After being forced to leave them, to go on when they were separated. To abandon them, they are actually here. He can finally watch Zed’s excitement bubble up from his tapping feet to his bouncing curls, Tango’s cautious but excitable eyes light up with a new idea. He was alone, left without his best friends. 

For a brief moment, everything was right for Impulse. Nothing else but his friends mattered. Until small cracks in his joy began to appear, the voices in his head telling him none of this is true. Its all a lie, a farce. Suddenly the small details become huge. Tango never had angel wings. He was from the nether. Zed wore clothes he’d never be caught dead in, looking more like some prophet or preacher than the fellow engineer. 

This isn’t real. Impulse’s grip loosens, and he pushes away from the hug. This is too good to be true, too wrong to be right. He scrabbles away from the two, leaving their arms reaching out for him as he presses his back against the wall. This is all fake, a farce. A trick, more of the city’s way of messing with his mind. The same way he can’t have escaped- there is no escape. That the Xisuma he’s met isn’t really real, it’s all just another horrible trick, a conspiracy. 

Tango reaches out, palm up and offering for Impulse to take. A pact with a ghost. Impulse stands, swaying as the blood rushes from his head. “You… you’re not real. This isn’t real.” 

“Wait, Impulse!” Zed slips as he tries to stand, falling over on Tango’s wing. But it’s too late- Impulse is gone. 

He escapes through the door, stumbling outside into the moonlight. The full moon is bright, illuminating the dark streets as if floodlights shine from the sky. Impulse hops over a hedge line, taking off towards the hills. Back to running, trying to escape this nightmare. Will he ever stop running?

He’s not sure if he can. He’s already limping, before he’s even made it into the hills. Impulse scrabbles up gravel and stone, trying to ignore the voices calling out for him. Ignoring Zed’s voice, the crack in his cries for him to return. Ignoring the wing beats of Tango’s plumage, until both disappear over the mountains. And it’s just him again. 

Alone again. The adrenaline in Impulse’s body falls away, and the aching pain of his wounds rise up. His sprint turns to a limp, the cold mountain air burning his lungs and the bandages on his ankle and arm starting to fall apart. Far from the town, from the illusions and the tricks played on his mind. But out here, he’s just lept from one danger to another. He may be free from prying eyes and ears, but he’s exposed. Out in the open, the cold wind biting on his skin and the distant sound of monsters shrieking ever closer. 

Impulse stumbles, but catches himself on a rock ledge. He’s not going to fall. Not again. Freezing snow nips at his exposed arms, turning his skin blue and leaving his body shivering. He needs to find shelter. He needs to keep going. He can’t ever stop. He can’t last out in the cold. Each step becomes smaller, slower. He’s just shuffling through the snow, moving forward the only thing on his mind. 

The further away from people he gets, the further away from their tricks. He knew this was all too good to be true. He can’t have escaped, he can’t have found his friends. There was nothing for Impulse anywhere. No place for a mind like his, curiosity beyond what’s natural. Seeing monsters in the shadows, ghosts in the darkness. There was no place he could trust, no one he could trust. Not even the warm, inviting hugs and welcoming tears of his friends. It was too good to be true. 

Impulse staggers into a small cave, hand running along the cold stone outcroppings. He hops down a few levels, until the wind has abated and just the damp cavern air grips at his warmth. Impulse slides down the wall, holding his knees close to try and keep in the last vestiges of warmth. His head tips back, watching his breath turn to a million ice fractals in the air. He knew that wasn’t really Tango and Zed. Not that things were too perfect- no, they were too imperfect. Strange, characterized versions of his friends. It was a trick, another way for General X, Doc, and Cub to play with him. None of this must be real. Not the kind faces of Doc and Cub, not the quirky mad scientist of Xisuma. Not the angelic Tango, or the zealous Zed. 

But how much he wanted it to be true. How much he just wanted to let the lies become real. That these were the same friends he left behind, that somehow they were here. Reincarnated, brought to this world they call Edolas. And he’d be fine with that, letting himself just become a part of this strange Edolas world. To be...Edolas Impulse. 

But he knows he can’t let that happen. He can’t let himself fall from the last ounce of sanity he has left. He can’t let himself be tricked, by anyone else. Even himself. Those aren’t his friends, this isn’t his world. He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong anywhere. 

Impulse shivers, head growing light and body suddenly becoming warm. His eyes droop, until he can’t stay awake anymore.

#yay reunion #edolas au #edolas hermits #hermitcraft au #edolas impulse #impulsesv #hermitcraft impulse #edolas zedaph #edolas zed #zedaph #hermitcraft zedaph #edolas tango #tangotek #tango tek #notice how the dystopia au tag disappeared?

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 1

An Edolas Hermit AU story. 

Impulse has become public enemy no. 1 in Hermitland. Making the impossible escape from General Xisuma and his cohorts Doc and Cub, Impulse and his friends need to do the impossible- escape Hermitland, beyond the walled city. Where will they end up? Who will make it? 

How does Impulse become Edolas Impulse? 

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I didn’t intend to make an 8 part story of how Impulse found his way to Edolas, how he came to become a part of the guild, but Red’s story is just too good to not tell it all! I’m very proud of this story, I hope you guys love it as well. 

Warning: This story includes general dark elements and language

“It’s only a matter of time before they find you, Impulse.” Tango whispers, watching as Zed presses the last of their medical cream against Impulse’s bruised neck. Impulse flinches at each touch, even though he knows he has no reason to. 

Impulse knows these are his friends. They saved his life, cut him free and fled through the underground tunnels together. But it hurts either way, and any sort of pressure around his neck makes his throat close up all over again, and the tears well at the corners of his eyes. A whisper in the back of his mind says this isn’t real, that he isn’t really alive. He’s still on the noose, and his mind is playing tricks with what he sees, the time he feels passing. Or that he's still in the rehab center, hallucinating it all after the effects of the shots that are forced into his veins. 

He has to quiet that voice, remind himself that it is real. His friends really did save him from the gallows. It’s been a week since they made their great escape, into the long forgotten tunnels of Hermitland. Tango and Zed only took short trips to the city above, just to get food from safehouses littered across the place. Impulse was public enemy number one, he wouldn’t be able to show his face above ground. Not unless he wanted to get captured again. 

In the week that he’s been hiding below ground, the red marks around his neck have turned into horrible black bruises. In a fractured mirror salvaged from an abandoned house, he can see where the noose constricted against his throat. It aches at all hours of the day, and in any reflection, he has to pause to look at the mottled skin. When he gulps, or eats, it stings like someone just struck him in his trachea. He struggles to sleep at night, both from the pain in his neck as well as the nightmares that haunt his dreams. 

“We need to leave.” Impulse breathes out, once Zed’s fingers are away from his neck. “We need to get out of Hermitland.” 

“Where will we go?” Zed questions, bouncing in his shoes at the thought of leaving. Excitement glitters in his eyes, the closest thing to sunshine Impulse has seen all week. 

“Anywhere we want. We’ll be free, we don’t have to listen to anyone. We can go anywhere, do anything.” Impulse sees Tango sit up, determination and hope filling tired eyes. 

“Do you really think we’ll be able to make it out there? How do we know what’s on the other side of the wall?” Tango wrings his hands, unable to not be skeptical about such idealistic beliefs.

“We’ve made it here for this long. Survived all the city had to throw at us, survived living off the grid down here. We’re three smart dudes, we’ll figure it out.” Impulse runs a hand through his hair. They have different skills, different pasts. Impulse knows how to make things last, when he doesn’t know what the future will hold. Zed sees uses for things no one else would think to make use of. And Tango has years and years of private schooling and work in the underground to understand what they’re dealing with. 

“We should leave sooner rather than later.” Tango concedes, a wispy smile starting to appear on his face. They’re really going to escape. “It’s only a matter of time before they find us.” 

“Let’s leave now!” Zed tosses the empty medicine tin over his shoulder, scrambling to his feet. 

Tango grabs Zed by the tail of the white button up shirt they all wear. “We need supplies if we’re going to leave. Food, water, tools.”

“I know that my family has some stone tools at our house.” Zed offers. “And we can get food as well. Pack up what we want to take with us.” 

“Can I come up with you guys?” Impulse wants to go to his apartment. Get his own things, his own clothes. Maybe even say goodbye to his family. He hasn’t been home in so long, not since he was captured by the guards. That was...well, he doesn’t know how long ago it was. He can’t remember how long he was in the rehab facility. 

Even Zed’s face loses the joy, both frowning at him. “It’s too dangerous, mate. They know what you look like. Everyone knows what you look like after the…” 

Zed doesn’t need to say it. Mentioning the public execution by name wasn’t necessary, they all knew what Zed was saying. Tango stands, brushing his black pants clean of the dust and dirt the underground carries. “Besides, the bruises would be a dead giveaway as well. You stay down here, we’ll be back soon enough.” 

Impulse watches Zedaph and Tango disappear down the dimly lit tunnels, wandering down the subway that was half built then forgotten. Leaving Impulse to his own devices, pacing nervously around the small cave they’ve claimed as theirs. His worries of them getting caught start morphing as time goes on. What if they’re wrong, and Cub does know who Zed and Tango are? What if they’re waiting to catch them when they can’t escape? What if they're walking right into a trap, and he can’t do anything from down here? What if Cub has been watching them all this time, and there’s cameras even in the underground? Impulse looks around, trying to find any sort of telltale hint of their little hideout being bugged. 

He peels back maps, careful not to smudge his sloppy handwriting. Handwriting from when they were looking for a break in the wall. He presses the corners of the map back up, noting the empty area surrounding Hermitland. Whoever made this map didn’t even bother to fill in what’s beyond the wall- it might as well be the void, or not exist at all. Hermitland is the entire universe, the entire life of everyone left in this world. 

He digs through chests, shaking bottles of redstone and flicking comparators. Nostalgia whispers across Impulse’s mind, remembering when he first met Zed and Tango. They were all first years in engineering school, having just passed their placement exams. Tango came from a well off family that had adopted him, Zed was a genius that won a competition, but Impulse just got lucky. Lucky to get a scholarship to become a redstone engineer. To help the people and the city. Back then, his idea of helping was developing better redstone lines, fixing old tech. Now, helping the city was freeing it from the corrupt hands that toy with them. Three friends, enjoying school and hassling over tests, turned into three rebels just trying to find their freedom. 

Impulse goes through everything, even their beds, leaving the room a torn up disaster in his wake. He doesn’t find anything, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s being watched. Cub knows everything. He knew things about Impulse that even Tango and Zed didn’t know. But there’s nothing Impulse can do- just sit, waiting and twiddling his thumbs. Hoping for his friends to return. 

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“Do you think that’s enough food?” Tango whispers, looking at the bag full of apples, baked potatoes, and even some bundles of golden carrots. 

“Once we’re out of the city, we’ll be able to find food no problem.” Zed laughs, putting the stone axe into the bottom of his bag. Hidden in case curfew officers ask what they have. 

“How are you so sure it’s going to be lush and green beyond the wall? How do we know everything still isn’t fucked by the war?” Tango knows that Zed is a glass-half-full kind of guy, but even this surely must give him some pause. No one knows what’s beyond the wall. Not even the most knowledgeable rebels have ever even attempted to leave the city. That fear, that unknowing of what lies beyond. It could be nothing, it could be everything. 

And that’s all they needed, all Impulse and Zed had been banking on. That everything is just beyond the wall. Tango was less sure, but the more that the others would chatter and dream, they would spark hope in him as well. That there was something beyond the wall. His friends gave him the hope that no other member of the underground ever gave Tango. It will be better beyond the wall- it has to be. 

“All those years, and nothing grew back?” Zed giggles. “I know you’re from the inner city, Tango, but I worked in the farming industry. Plants are tricky little buggers. You can’t get them to stop growing when they really wanna. I’m sure there’s stuff out there.”

Tango shrugs the pack onto his shoulder, nodding towards the door. Towards the dark streets, distant figures scurrying towards home before getting in trouble with curfew officers. “Let’s get back. I want to be out of here before sunrise.” 

The pair walk onto the streets, blending in with the other citizens. It’s easier for Zed, he doesn’t look so different as Tango. Tango always gets stopped by officers, questioned as to why he’s out. Lucky for the both of them, their jobs as redstone engineers grants them a certain amount of wiggle room. They can just claim they’re going to a build site that needs emergency maintenance. They slip through the night, unnoticed among the other people on the streets. Exact same clothing, exact same demeanor. They shouldn’t be out past curfew. Zed stops in the middle of the street, scrabbling his fingers against Tango’s arm. “We need to go to Impulse’s house.” 

“What? Why?” That’s a stupid idea. If there’s anywhere they’ll most likely be seen, mostly likely get investigated, it’s Impulse’s apartment. It’s probably bugged to hell and back. Where they first thought to search for Impulse after his escape. 

“We both grabbed things from our homes...it’s only fair he has one thing from his childhood. I know exactly what to get too. Please, Tango. It’ll be quick. No one will notice. You can use that jammer of yours to keep Cub and his drones from seeing.” The two look up into the sky, beyond the dim street lights to see if any of the surveillance drones are listening in. 

Tango sighs. “It’s only a few blocks. Let’s go. But we need to be quick.” 

They take off down the street, creeping down alleys to avoid busy intersections or patrolling drones. Out of the luxurious upper class sector, into the blue-collar apartments and homes. Smaller, looming over one another. Some houses are in disrepair, but still housing families of people. 

And there’s Impulse’s apartment. One of many doors to a long line of apartments, but his is the only one with the door wide open. The hinges nearly off their bolts, thin wood slowly creaking in the wind. Zed pauses at the doorway, looking just to his left. Into the brush and bushes that surround the steps up to Impulse’s apartment.

“Zed?” Tango waves his hand across his friend’s blank stare. They shouldn’t be seen here. 

“I saw it happen, you know. I was here when they took him. Right there.” Zed points out where he hid in the foliage. “Impulse saw them coming, and shoved me out the window. Told me not to move no matter what. They tore the door open, and dragged him out by his hair. Kicking and Screaming, no sense of humanity towards him. I should’ve done something to stop them, but Impulse told me not to move. They disappeared into an unmarked vehicle, off towards Bastion Towers.” 

He takes shaking steps up to the door, each rise up the stairs weakening his knees. All the optimism in Zed is gone, shadowed by memories so much worse than dreams. He should have done something, anything, to stop them. To help his friend.

Inside Impulse’s apartment was a disaster. Drawers flung open and contents spilled out. The sparse furniture broken and scattered. It looks like a horde of monsters came through here. The truth isn’t that far off. It’s a small apartment, really just a living area and a branched off bedroom. For this part of the city, having it’s own bathroom is fancy. Impulse was proud of the hard work he did to get this place. And now it’s all destroyed. 

Zedaph knows exactly where it is. What he knows will be the one thing Impulse would take with him. And lucky for them, it wasn’t harmed. The clock had been knocked off the shelf it sat on, but the arms still clicked along at their steady, equal pace. The brass frame was dented, but it didn’t stop the intricate clockwork from continuing to run. Zed crouches down, picking up the redstone infused clock. 

“His first redstone project. That’s a brilliant idea, Zed.” Tango whispers, looking at the moon continue to rise against the black night sky. Impulse even painted stars onto it. “I remember when he showed us this. Our first time going out to lunch together, all three of us.” 

“Let’s get back to him. I’m sure he’s on the verge of a breakdown.” Zed carefully stows the precious, cobbled together clock into the pocket of his slacks. Just as they slipped out of the underground, they returned. 

None the wiser that they’ve been watched. 

Always watched.

#I swear this story has a happy ending #but you gotta break a geode to get the gem #hermitcraft impulse #edolas hermits #edolas impulse #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft tango #hermitcraft zedaph #impulsesv #tangotek #zedaph #edolas au #dystopia au #dystopia hermits

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 2

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit AU story (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Impulse, Tango, and Zed are vying for freedom out of Hermitland. But first they must get through the great walls of the city, and whatever waits beyond. What they don’t know is that their plan has already been discovered. 

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Part Two? Part Two! I’m so glad people are enjoying this story, I just can’t wait to share it all with you! Red’s story is so incredible, I don’t think my writing can do it justice.

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language

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Impulse grabs the nearest thing he could find, a redstone torch, wielding it as he hears footsteps moving down the tunnels. Zed and Tango have been taking way too long. Surely they’ve been caught by Cub, seen leaving the underground. By now, they’re probably in the rehab center, undergoing the same horrible ‘therapy’ that he had to endure. And now? Now Xisuma has sent guards to retrieve Impulse. Or perhaps just to take him out for good. 

So when the two figures round the corner into the team’s hideaway, he swings the torch with all his might. He’s not exactly strong, though, which is why Tango easily grabs hold of the other end, ignoring the electrifying feeling of holding the redstone end of the torch. This isn’t the first time Impulse has freaked himself out to the point of becoming reactionary. “Guess that means you don’t want what we brought you then.” 

Impulse immediately lets go of the torch, relief spreading across his face and body as he sees the cool smile of Tango, the bouncy joy of Zed. They haven’t been captured, they look just fine. “I’m just glad you’re back. How was it above?” 

“We went to your apartment!” Zed pulls something out of his bag, holding it out for Impulse to see. At first, Impulse has to rub his eyes, just to be sure he’s seeing what is in Zed’s hand. His fingertips are just barely able to curl around the brass wall, the moon beginning to rise towards its peak. Almost midnight. The redstone clockwork is shoddy at best, the gears and lines easy to hear within the device. But for Impulse, it’s his most prized possession. 

He built this clock when he decided he wanted to be a redstone engineer. It was his first time using redstone, or any of that sort of material. It sparked his love for inventing, and put him on the path to the man he is now. It’s the start of everything. 

And to have it now, that Tango and Zed thought to get the clock from his apartment, makes tears well in his eyes. It hurts to gulp, but he tries his best to keep from whimpering like a baby at the thought. “Th-thank you guys.” 

“They ransacked your house. Completely torn apart.” Tango whispers, picking up the mess that Impulse had left behind while they were gone. “But luckily it only got dented. Young Impulse was thinking to use brass instead of the usual gold.” 

“Young Impulse definitely didn’t have access to gold. I don’t think current Impulse does either.” He laughs awkwardly, running his finger over the dial on the clock. Xisuma’s guards must’ve been looking for information, evidence against Impulse and the underground. He knows they found nothing. He’s smarter than that. The clock ticks under Impulse’s touch, the moon drawing nearer to its apogee. They need to leave before sunrise. “Where you guys followed?”

“We were fine. Not a soul saw us.” Zed waves off Impulse’s concern, playing catch with an apple then taking a hefty bite from the fruit. 

“Are you sure? They have eyes everywhere, Cub could’ve seen you. He could’ve followed you.” Impulse glances around, as if someone else could suddenly appear in the cave they call their hideout. 

“We were careful.” Tango nods, pulling up his multitool. The same tool that sent the coding to cut Impulse’s noose. “I used the jamming signal you came up with to keep drones from coming near us.” 

Impulse breathes a sigh of relief. He knows that signal works, so he knows his friends are right. They weren’t followed. “Then let's get going. Before someone does start to follow us.” 

“Let’s blow this popstand!” Zed cheers, shoving the apple into his mouth and shrugging his backpack over his shoulder. He bounces in his shoes, blonde hair curling and bouncing across his eyes. “Come on come on come on! No time to waste! The next time we see the sun, it’ll be with the sweet taste of freedom!” 

Tango and Impulse can’t help but smile, Zed’s enthusiasm contagious. They can hear him humming down the tunnels, footsteps skipping and echoing down the road. Tango ruffles Impulse’s hair, forcing his cowlick over his eyes and making it almost impossible to see. When he parts the unruly chocolate hair, Tango is giving him a coy wink. “Last one to the safehouse is a sticky piston!” 

Tango takes off, gilded hair wisping across the horns. Impulse chases after him, grabbing the small bag of his own supplies and stumbling out of their cave. He chases after Zed and Tango, laughing as Zed trips in between skips. He never stops humming, even as he nearly faceplants into the cracked concrete. Tango hardly stops, long lanky legs eloping by and picking Zed up by the scruff like a kitten. Tango was so much taller than others, stood out so much more than any other person in Hermitland. It’s what made him different, it’s what made him awesome. When other people would be nervous with a demon from the nether sitting next to them in class, it was Impulse’s favorite thing. No one dared pick on him and his threadbare clothes at school when Tango’s red eyes would glare them away, his tail flicking menacingly. 

Zed scrabbles up the ladder, into the cool midnight air. The trio can see the wall as they sneak free of the forgotten tunnels, closing the trapdoor hidden beneath a massive, leafy bush. Tango remembers to brush a branch over the mulch, scrambling the chips to clear off the disturbance of the three climbing out. 

The lights of this street have been broken for years, always put to the wayside of maintenance logs in lieu of work for the more affluent neighborhoods. But the people who have claimed this part of the city as home, the farmers and hard working families find joy in the darkness. The freedom that Zed, Tango, and Impulse feel to walk down the streets. Zed and Tango dance and chase after one another, blowing off the steam of excitement. They’re finally escaping. 

But for Impulse, it’s his first time above ground since he was hanged. He’s slower than the others, taking in each deep breath of the cool night air. Fresh, crisp, of the city taking a quiet sigh of relief from the hassle of the day. The moon is in gibbous, nearly full and gazing a single eye down at the world. Stars glitter and shine across the canvas of the night sky. Moonlight wasn’t harsh like the sun. It didn’t burn or scathe against skin the way that electric shocks ran across Impulse’s skin, it didn’t blind him like the harsh lights when he was interrogated. It was a nurturing light, relief from the scathing truth of the day. 

Impulse closes his eyes, stretching his arms out and feeling the night air surrounding him. Lies spoken in the day, illusions under the sun become shadows in the night, transparent and weak. The quiet hush of the night is when truths are whispered, when reasonable voices are able to be heard while the shouting crowd is fast asleep. Impulse always got his best work done at night. Impulse learned the truth at night. 

In the darkness of the night, none of them notice the stealthy drone zooming it’s lense in on the basking boy. They don’t see the antenna rise up, pointing towards Bastion Towers. 

“Come on, mate! You can take a deep breath once we’re beyond the wall!” Zed whispers in Impulse’s ear, tugging him down the silent, open road. All the way to the safehouse. A decrepit little shack, nondescript at best. Even when they enter the toolshed, nothing looks out of the ordinary. Not until Zed picks up a wooden hoe from the racks of stone and iron tools. Beneath their feet, the wood floor slips away to reveal a small tunnel. The boys hop in, dirt falling into their hair as they crawl through the low tunnel. Crawling through the tight quarters, trying not to bump into each other or the wall. Tango has it worst, his horns digging into the tunnel’s soil roof each time he leans back. 

They reach the wall, gazing at all their hard work. The wall wasn’t pure concrete, and with each stratified layer they picked away, they had to figure out a whole different solution to a whole new problem. They picked away at thick concrete, filed down metal rebar, rerouted electrical currents, disarmed alarms, even cut through a whole sheet of metal that sat at the center of the wall. All that, until they reached the other side. Right in front of Impulse, they only needed to dig out a few more shovels full of dirt. Unfortunately, freedom was put on hold when Impulse was captured. 

But now, the boys can finally pick away the last of what separates them from freedom. To finally be able to escape the city, to finally have done what no one else thought was possible. Zed and Tango squeeze on each side of Impulse, pulling the spades they have handy. And together, the three dig the dirt away. Dirt falls and is flung over their shoulders, getting between their teeth and onto their white shirts. But none of them care.

Especially when Zed’s shovel breaks through grass, digging through the roots and pushing into open air. When he pulls it back, the ground crumbles around it. 

They can see the moon on the other side. Unobstructed, save for a distant birch forest across the plains. No buildings, no walls, no streetlights or drones or guards. But there is life. Grass spreads out in all directions, a sea of green visible in the burrow the boys have dug out. Flowers dance quietly in the moonlight, brushed by wind that carries wayward leaves from far away trees. Tango was the first to find his voice. “It’s all real. We did it.” 

Impulse’s mind is tethered to the freedom before him, but gets dragged back to the dystopia behind him when he hears the sound of a door slam. Wooden, hitting something so hard that the lumber cracks and the hinges snap. His stomach and throat tighten up as the sound recalls a not too distant memory. The memory of his door being kicked open, armed guards breaking down his entrance to hunt him down. The sound of footsteps in his mind echoes the footsteps he hears at the entrance to their tunnel. 

The hatch at the other end is opened. “They found us! They're here!” 

“We have to go through now!” Zed keeps digging, trying to open the tunnel. It’s hardly even big enough for one person. 

“We have to use the other tunnel! We’re not going to make it through in time. Not all of us.” Tango points down the even smaller crawl space that they built. It was something none of them thought they’d have to use, but Impulse was insistent on. For a case just like this. 

Zed can hear voices, arguing down the dark tunnel. “Impulse can’t stay here. He can’t stay in the city- he’ll surely get captured sooner or later.” 

Zed and Tango both turn, gazing at Impulse with resolute but despondent eyes. A look that sends chills down his spine and fear through his heart. “What are you two-” 

“Come out now before things get grim. I know you're down there. Impulse, I saw you finally came out of your little hole.” A steady, calm voice hollers down the hall. Cub was here. 

Tango and Zed share a glimpse of each other’s plans within their eyes, and turn to Impulse. Simultaneously, they scoot back. Put distance between themselves and Impulse. Tears begin to form at the corner of both their eyes, and Zed’s lip quivers as Tango picks up his shovel. “We’ll see you on the other side, Impulse.” 

Horrible realization shocks through Impulse. He reaches out for his friends, for them to rethink this decision. But Tango has already struck the dirt above them, yanking it free. Soil collapses between them, and rocks fall soon after. Impulse scrambles back, his arm nearly crushed as the stones fall in. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears hit his hand. He scrabbles against the rocks, digging through the cave in. “No! No, you guys can make it! Don’t leave me!” 

No answer on the other end. Impulse strains to listen. He can hear Zed and Tango retreat, the slow creak of the escape tunnel closing in. They’re already gone, disappearing into the crowd of people. Back into the depths of the city.

But Cub remains. Impulse scurries back as the calm voice speaks through the rocks. “It’s only going to get worse from here, man. We know your every move. We will find you.” 

Panicked breathes escape Impulse’s open lips, his mind a flurry of just about every emotion he can feel. He has to put distance between him and Cub. He needs to run. 

And so he does. Impulse squeezes through the dirt hole, ignoring the grass and mud stains that smear across the white shirt he wears. The ID tag on his arm begins to warm, but he ignores it as he slips into the open field. Impulse clambers to his feet, stumbling into a sprint before he’s even upright. 

But the quiet field isn’t quiet for long. Beneath the red poppies and yellow dandelions, traps have laid in wait. Buried long ago, waiting for the day a foolish hermit decided to try and escape. Impulse vaults free of a snare as it releases, nearly grabbing hold of his leg. A net flings from a buried gun, threatening to weigh Impulse down. 

If the trapped field wasn’t enough, Impulse hears something rise up from the massive blank concrete wall. He knows he shouldn’t look back, but he can’t help his own morbid curiosity. He peeks over his shoulder, and sees something he never even thought existed within Hermitland. 

A door to outside. The concrete walls open up just enough for a black vehicle to slip through. It’s not just Cub that’s after Impulse- Doc stands in the bed of the vehicle,  a thin barrel pointed at Impulse. 

Impulse doesn’t stop running. He can’t outrun Cub or Doc, but he can outmaneuver them. The weapon fires, a dart filled with sloshing liquid burying itself into the ground next to Impulse. It’s not a bullet, thank god, but Impulse knows that if Doc is involved it’s something much worse. The escapee skids to the side, forcing the black vehicle to change direction as he focuses on his goal. 

A forest, just beyond the edge of the plain. Tall, thick birch trees that will be the guardians against the attacking leaders. Barriers for those who wish to keep Impulse from escaping. The hair on Impulse’s head sticks out in all directions, his body electrified as a shock shell detonates beside Impulse. The zapping sound of electricity makes him run all the harder. Flee from what he knows is already awaiting him if Doc gets his hands on Impulse...again. 

Impulse meets the treeline, but he doesn’t stop. When he hears the vehicle screech to a halt, he doesn’t stop. When he hears Doc and Cub yelling, swearing and arguing, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop running until the sound, the sight of the city are long gone. Until his legs give out from under him, and all the emotions spread ruin within him. 

They’re gone. Zed and Tango, they gave up their freedom for him. Forced him to leave them. He’s alone, lost beyond the wall. Everything he’s ever known is now behind him. His entire life, his entire world. Every person he’s ever known, ever seen. 

He’s alone. Lost, on the run. And without the only people he wanted to do this with.

#hermitcraft impulse #edolas hermits #edolas impulse #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft tango #hermitcraft zedaph #hermitcraft cub #impulsesv #cubfan135 #tangotek #zedaph #edolas au #dystopia au #dystopia hermits

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 6

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Impulse wakes up in strange places, but surrounded by familiar faces. Not all of them welcome. But these people are not like the villains and heroes he knows from Hermitland. They’re different, and he can’t tell what’s real and what’s false.

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I know a lot of you can’t wait to see Impulse, Tango, and Zed meet, but I just have to make the tension a little higher before we get that wonderful reunion! 

Also, if you like my writing check out my story Wandering Stars! It’s a novel sized story with D&D like action and a few wayward trips to the world of the Hermits by our three adventurers! Check out Chapter 1 Here!

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language. Blood and needle warning for this part. 

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Impulse gasps to reality, finally escaping the inky darkness of sleep. He’s been trying to wake up for...well, he can’t tell how long. Hours? Days? Weeks? But it felt like he was walking through sludge, worse than wading across water to get to where he is now. Impulse’s eyes dart around the room, taking everything in. Every sense is wild and alive. 

The room is small, only a few beds lined against the wall. Pure white walls, white sheets, white everything nearly blinds Impulse against the harsh fluorescent lights. It smells just as sterile as it looks, a hint of cleaning supplies and saline in the air. Beside Impulse, he can hear the steady, but rising beeps of his own heartbeat. A screen shows the constant rise and fall, each peak and trough growing in frequency as Impulse gathers more information about the world around him. He follows the grey cord from the heart rate monitor, down to his right arm. 

It’s there he also sees the other line tying him down. A thin needle beneath his skin, clear liquid dripping from a bag held above his head. The beeping of the monitor rises to frenzied pace, Impulse grabbing at the IV tube in his arm and ripping it free of his skin. He holds down the bloody pinprick, leaping from his bed. His right foot becomes entangled in the cords all around his bed, tugging on the white bandages that match the ones wrapped securely around his arms. He collapses, finding that the floor is becoming quite familiar to him. Impulse finally rips the heart rate monitor off his finger, the incessant beeping filling his head even after it stops. 

Impulse needs to get out of here. Wherever here is, nothing is good about it. It looks too much like Bastion Towers. Where he was held, put through that horrible rehabilitation. Wounded and weak, Impulse struggles to his feet and limps to the doorway. He needs to get out of here, figure out where the hell he is. Is this the End? Or...has he met his own end? Is the afterlife supposed to be this painful? 

He reaches a bloody hand for the door’s handle, but it moves before he can touch it. Bursting open, he sees two faces he never wanted to see ever again. 

Doc and Cub. Their foreheads are creased with wrinkles, eyes glimmering with worry until they rest on Impulse. Cub steps forward. “Thank goodness you’re finally awake, kidd-” 

Cub narrowly dodges as a metal tray is flung at his head. The stranger collapses backwards, grabbing anything within his reach and flinging it at Cub and Doc. The latter yelps, taking cover behind a filing cabinet. Cub dares to press forward, despite the screaming and projectiles. “No! No, I won’t let you take me back! Get away from me!” 

“Wha- hold on kid what are you talking about?” Cub pauses, confused. Just short enough time for the stranger to get his hands on a thin scalpel. He shakes as he brandishes the medical tool, blood pouring from where he had ripped the IV drip out. The white bandages on his other arm are stained with bright red blood, new bruises already beginning to appear. It was the crashing noise that alerted them to the trouble within the infirmary. 

Cub steps forward, but Impulse swings the sharp knife, and he immediately backs off. This isn’t right, something is wrong. Impulse knows it. Cub is playing with him, pretending to be his friend. Lull him into a false sense of security. This is the man that chased him through that damned forest, tracked him down like a wild animal. There’s a lapse of silence between the two, neither moving in the stalemate. 

Until Doc peeks his head out from behind the cabinets. “Is everything safe to-” 

He ducks back in as the stranger cries out, throwing the scalpel in Doc’s direction and retreating. He starts to clamber onto the beds like a feral cat, jumping for the high windows of the guild’s infirmary. Doc covers his ears at the sound of glass shattering, and Cub grunting from beyond his hiding spot. “Xisuma! Help!”

Xisuma careens into the room, crashing into the doorframe to reach the cry for help as soon as possible. He looks across the infirmary, at the scene before him. Doc is hiding behind a cabinet, and the room looks like a tornado has blown through it. Cub and the stranger are in the center of the room, surrounded by shards of broken glass. Cub is yelling, begging for the stranger to stop, that he’s only going to hurt himself more. But the patient won’t listen. 

“Xisuma! We need to sedate him before he hurts himself more!” Cub calls, holding down the kid’s arms before yelping as the frenzied stranger bites him. Xisuma slides across the floor, pulling out a syringe filled with green liquid. Cub notices the neon sedative as Xisuma flicks bubbles free of it. “Not the experimental one you made on the way here!”

The mad scientist pouts, but puts the fun syringe aside for a more mundane, more boring method. Cub holds down the stranger, his face creased with worry and even a few tears in his eyes. Why is this kid so terrified that he was willing to jump out a window to make an escape? Xisuma lends his free hand, holding the struggling patient still and letting the syringe pinch into his skin. 

Impulse’s screams seem to fall on deaf ears, trying to escape the grasp that Cub and Xisuma have on him. Holding him down, preventing him from escape. They did it. They finally caught him, pressing his shoulders and arms against the cold tile floors. Impulse feels hot tears sting at his eyes, watching as he grabs at the labcoat on Xisuma. Trying to rip his hand off the syringe in Impulse’s shoulder. But it does nothing, and he feels his mind grow cloudy as the needle is pulled away from his body. 

His hand, bloody from glass and the IV drip, slips away from Xisuma’s white coat. It leaves a red stain down the burnt and tattered fabric. The weight of his limbs feel like ten tons of rock, and the voices around him drift in and out of clarity. “I don’t know what’s going on...he hurt himself trying to get…what is going on?”

What is going on? 

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Ren sips his tea, much quieter than the slurping noise that his friend Grian makes as he chugs the last of his warm drink. Ren sighs, closing his book and stretching out his arms on the bed in front of him. He kneads the warm white blanket before standing. “I’ll get us another mug.” 

“Can you get a new one for him?” Grian picks up the mug, completely full with now lukewarm tea. If he were this stranger in the bed, he’d want a warm cup of tea when he woke up. 

Ren smiles, taking all three cups out of the infirmary and to a kettle of boiling water. He quietly dumps the cold tea down the drain, watching the tea extract flush away. What a waste of tea, but he understands Grian’s concern. He hums to himself as he lets the warm drinks steep, adding in the honey and sugar to an exact amount that both he and Grian enjoy. He can only guess for the stranger.

When Ren returns with three full mugs of steaming hot tea, Grian is talking. Not to himself- the stranger is awake. Grian’s soft voice and even softer attitude has managed to keep the patient in bed, though Ren can read his body language well enough. The stranger is tense, about ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. He makes his presence known to both of them, walking over slowly and setting down the drinks. Ren flicks his tail to the side, taking a seat next to Grian. 

“Would you like some tea?” Grian whispers, offering the warm mug to the kid. He’s hardly even able to sit up, reattached to an IV but pale from all his wounds. For a second, the stranger only looks at the mug with a withering gaze, but eventually takes the hot drink. He holds it close, watching the drink for a minute. He finally drinks. “I’m Grian, and my feline friend here is Ren.” 

Ren nods, picking up his notebook and scribbling down in the paper. He’s been keeping a ledger of notes since the stranger appeared, promising to give it to Cub later on. The first thing that Ren noted was that the patient has a trigger with certain people- specifically, the very person who rescued him, as well as Doc and X. He can’t help but wonder why. “What’s your name, stranger?” 

“I-” Impulse pauses, looking down at his drink. Should he be trusting these two people? When he woke up, Grian was immediately pressing him back into  bed. For such a short stature and seemingly diminutive nature, Grian was strong. But the gentle voice of the man with the bow tie, his calm face and soft touch eased him into a jaded calm. He’s not even sure if he should trust the tea the two gave him. It could be drugged- it could have tiny robots from Cub to reinstate the redstone tracking with him. But the tea felt good on his lips, warming his cold, pale body. “I’m Impulse.” 

Saying his name aloud felt like he was signing his own arrest warrant. Surely now Xisuma and Cub would come barging in, dragging him back to rehabilitation- or somewhere much worse. But Grian and Ren glance at each other, sharing some silent conversation with only their eyes. Glimmers of words, facial twitches as sentences. Grian turns back, and lifts a tub of cookies. “Are you hungry? You look like you could use some sugar.” 

“Wh-where am I?” Impulse questions, carefully plucking a cookie and nibbling on it. 

“Well...you’re in our guild’s infirmary.” Grian taps his finger, setting a few cookies aside for some of the others. Cub and Xisuma really deserve a treat, they’ve been moping since the last time Impulse woke up. 

Speak of the devil, Xisuma quietly opens the door to check in. Holding a clipboard of notes, he immediately cringes upon seeing Impulse awake. Impulse also reacts to Xisuma’s arrival, his heart rate monitor skyrocketing as he scrambles in his bed to get as far away from the new arrival as possible. Ren rests a firm but soft hand on Impulse’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Impulse, he won’t hurt you. He’s our friend, he’s here to help.” 

“But...but General X…” Impulse stutters out, eyes never wavering from Xisuma as he carefully walks closer. 

Xisuma sits down a few feet away, offering space for the stranger. He immediately starts scribbling notes, chicken scratch handwriting noting what Ren called the patient. Impulse. Xisuma’s head runs at a thousand kilometers per hour, before he finally realizes what is happening. An ecstatic spark gleams in Xisuma’s eyes, the mad in ‘mad scientist’ bubbling forward. “You aren’t from this world.” 

Both Ren and Grian give Xisuma a confused look. What the hell is he talking about? Different worlds? He’s completely lost it. But Impulse seems to catch on, and offers a short nod. If Ren remembers something about the Impulse they had before, he was quick to catch onto just about everything put in front of him. “What are you talking about, X?”

Xisuma pushes his hair back, giving an excited grin. Impulse doesn’t rest from his coiled perch, eyes never leaving Xisuma in the chair nearby. He looks just like General Xisuma- but also nothing like him. His eyes show no sign of malice, though they are a bit wild. In fact, both of his eyes are still in working order. “Wha-what is this world called?” 

“Edolas. I can’t believe it- you are true proof that other worlds exist!” Impulse squeaks as Xisuma hops his chair closer, putting more distance between himself and the strange version of Xisuma before him. “What is your world called? Are there other versions of us there as well? What about-” 

“Whoa, too much man.” Ren pats Xisuma on the back, pushing him back to his seat with a flick of his bushy brown cat tail. Xisuma realizes he’s scaring Impulse, and shrinks back himself. He hated seeing the fear in the stranger’s eyes when they had to sedate him. He felt like a horrible person, a villain. But Impulse was only going to hurt himself more if he and Cub didn’t do something. 

Ren pulls Xisuma away, handing off a folded note with a whisper in his ear. Impulse can only watch as Xisuma reads the note, glancing back up his way. There’s hurt in X’s eyes, the wild mop of brown hair tugged on by a scarred hand. But Xisuma nods to Ren, and creeps closer. Much slower, as calm as the mad scientist can be. “I just want to help, Impulse. Can I replace your IV drip?”

“What’s in there?” Impulse snaps, looking at the saline bag hanging above him. Is it some sort of sedative? A mind altering drug? 

“It’s okay, Impulse.” Grian whispers, placing a warm and gentle hand on Impulse’s shaking fingers. “I promise, our friend here is a really nice guy.” He bites his lip, before adding on. “Once you get past his...ah, erratic behavior.” 

Impulse glances at Xisuma, noting the crooked smile this Edolas Xisuma offers him. Erratic is the last thing he could call General Xisuma. But he nods, his eyes never wavering from X as he exchanges the nearly empty bag for a full one. Grian and Ren smile, their calm auras putting both Xisuma and Impulse at ease. 

Ren hands off a cookie to Xisuma as he leaves, a note scribbled on the napkin that it sits on. Grian stays near Impulse, helping him relax and fall back to a healing sleep. What this time has shown Ren is one thing- this Impulse from another world fears three people above all. Doc, Xisuma, and Cub. 

He can’t help but wonder why them? Doc and Cub are two of the sweetest people in their guild, and while Xisuma is a little strange his heart is always in the right place. They’re some of the best people in the guild. 

So what were these backwards, villainous versions of their friends like? How was it so bad that even just seeing their faces could bring such terror, no matter how irrational such a thought is? What has this strange new Impulse been through?

#keep checking in #next chapter we'll finally get the reunion #edolas au #edolas hermits #hermitcraft au #dystopia au #edolas impulse #impulsesv #hermitcraft impulse #edolas cub #cubfan135 #hermitcraft cub #edolas doc #docm77 #hermitcraft doc #edolas xisuma #xisumavoid #hermitcraft xisuma #edolas ren #rendog #hermitcraft ren #edolas grian #grianmc #hermitcraft grian

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 5

Previous Chapter

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU Belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A stranger has been found in the forests of Edolas, unconscious and unanswering to the questions the Edolas Hermits have. Who is he, and why does he look like a friend they lost long ago? Why is he so badly wounded? Why does he have a broken clock? 

Why has the ocean stopped taking Zed and Tango’s wishes?

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Part five is my favorite part- I’ll tell you that. Finally reaching edolas, and getting to have fun with the wacky characters that Red has come up with! And, since Edolas is a world of opposite hermits, we decided that yes- Jellie is a dog. A good girl. 

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language

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“Jellie! Come here girl!” Scar whistles, clapping his hands together as he continues along the dirt trail through the forests of Edolas. Tall, cozy spruce trees offer a fresh pine scent, the detritus beneath Scar’s shoes a tangle of soft needles and bark. The dark wood offers a muted, calming sensation for Scar. 

Jellie barks off in the distance, but doesn’t return to her owner’s side. That’s unusual...Jellie almost always comes when called. The only time she doesn’t is when food is on her mind. Scar hops off the path, following the barking through the winding maze of trees. He picks up the pace as Jellie’s barks turn into a whine. 

“What’s wrong, pretty lady?” Scar whispers as soon as he spots the dark coated dog. Scar’s next sentence falters in his throat as he sees the body. Face down in the dirt, surrounded by stones, an unmoving figure lays. White bandages, fraying and bloody, wrap around his arm. Brown, wispy hair is dirty with grass and mud, caking down the remnants of a white buttonup shirt. Black trousers are torn and covered with dirt, one leg bloody both on the fabric and skin. In one hand, a busted clock is still firmly held onto- even with the person obviously not conscious or even alive. Scar sighs. “Xisuma needs to stop dumping bodies in the woods.” 

Scar reaches out to pull Jellie away from the corpse, but she plants her paws into the dirt and refuses to leave the side of the person. It’s not until Scar is forced to get closer that he realizes why- it’s not a corpse. He’s still breathing. Holy shit he’s still alive. Scar begins to panic, unsure who to turn to. This isn’t exactly his expertise, dealing with something like this. Who is? 

Scar calls the only person he can think of at this moment in time. Cub. He starts to pace around the clearing, too afraid to get close to the body. Jellie stays near instead, laying her head gently on the boy’s back. Keeping his body warm, her fur comforting. Finally, after 3 times going to voicemail, Cub picks up the phone. “Is everything alright, buddy?” 

“No, everything isn’t ‘alright’. Things are super fucking weird, Cub.” Scar can’t help but snap, looking back at the form still laying in the dirt. “I...I found something.” 

“Something? What kind of something?” Cub’s voice is calm and soothing, a fatherly tone that Scar has come to rely on so much. 

“I...it’s a person. He’s still alive, but...I dunno, I think this is some sort of cult thing. He’s wearing some really nice trousers and shirt, but they’re torn to hell and back. He’s got bandages, and surrounded by rocks and theres a clock and…” Scar doesn’t know what else to say. This is too odd, too much for him all to take in. 

“Take a deep breath, Scar. I’ll get some others to come out, and we’ll take a look at what you found. Just...make sure he stays alive.” Cub hangs up, leaving Scar to the silence of the forest and the occasional whimper of Jellie. The boy’s chest continues to rise and fall, but Scar doesn’t dare reach out and push him onto his back. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t far from the others. Cub, Keralis, and Bdubs appear in the clearing, all stopping dead as they see the body. Bdubs shrinks behind the others, peeking over Keralis’s shoulder. “Oh my god…” 

Cub stoops low, taking a gentle hold of the boy’s unharmed arm and checking his vitals. His pulse is steady. “Let’s get this kid to the infirmary. Looks like he needs it.”

Keralis helps Cub gather the boy in his arms. Scar can’t help but watch with Bdubs, both a little too shocked as the others roll over the body and see his face. It’s covered in dirt, caked with sweat and a little bit of blood. But it looks exactly like the face of a person they thought was long gone. No, that’s not right. It’s just coincidence, people look the same all the time. Scar won’t entertain that idea any further. They just need to focus on getting to the infirmary.

----------------------------------------------------

Wind blusters across the sea, white capped waves pounding against Zedaph and Tango’s bare legs. Behind them, sand whips and scratches at anyone who dares to be in it’s path. 

But no amount of wind, not hell or high water will stop the duo from their daily ritual. When even Zed’s beliefs change, this is still constant. A tradition, no matter what else is going on around them. Tango’s elegant, cursive writing is slipped into the clear glass bottle that Zed had brought. Tango opens a single, white feathered wing to protect his friend from the angry sand behind them, daring to blister their skin from the beach. He stays silent as Zed whispers out the same wish every single day. “Please, bring him back.” 

Salty tears fall from Zed’s eyes, mixing with the ocean around them, just another drop in the sea awash with their pain. They’ve been doing this for years, but every time it still feels as fresh as the day they lost him. Zed caps the bottle, and throws it out with all his might. Beyond the angry turmoil of the surf. 

The two remain ankle deep in the ocean, silent and staring. Searching for some sign, any sign that their prayers have been answered. They know it’s impossible, but they still do it. They saw him sink, trapped in the ropes and sails. A gentle smile as he assured them everything would be alright. 

But it’s not alright. Tango and Zed are without their best friend, left with a hole in both their hearts. A bed empty in their shared apartment. Zed rubs his tearstained face into Tango’s shoulder, comforted only by his large white wings as they wrap around Zed. The two are about to return to shore, until Zed feels something brush up against his foot. 

The bottle. It returned to them. Zed picks it back up, and throws the bottle again. Beyond the surf once more. “No, no. You go out to sea.” 

“It’s never done that before.” Tango breathes. He feels sick to his stomach as the bottle returns again, carried on the white waves back to rest at his feet. He stoops low, plucking the bottle as it brushes against his legs. It has to go out to sea. Every single time Impulse showed them this tradition, he said the sea would take their wish. And grant it. He takes off, flying well past the waves, dropping the bottle into the sea. 

But by the time he returns to Zedaph, the bottle is back in his friend’s hands. Zed’s anger grows, grabbing the glass bottle. What was once something the two teased to Impulse, was now their only lifeline, their only way to process and grieve his loss. “Take the fucking wish!” Zed screams, reeling back and throwing the bottle as far as he can. He stumbles into the sea, collapsing to his hands and knees. “Take the god damn wish and give us our friend back!” 

Tango pulls Zed back to his feet, careful to be sure he doesn’t get a mouthful of water and drown. Drown like Impulse did. Zed’s cries turn into quiet prayers, angry curses at the gods who won’t listen and desperate pleas to those that will. Wishing for a miracle they know will never happen, but still desperately beg for. 

The two retreat, grabbing their shoes and rolling their pants back down. Fighting the heavy wind and stinging sand, neither look back. Because they know it’s sitting there again. Spit back out by the ocean. 

It’s a quiet walk back to the guild, back to town. It always is quiet, both lost in thoughts and memories. Of easier days, warmer days. When the sun was warmer and shone through their best friend’s smile. When laughter filled their apartment so loud that their neighbors- even Cleo- would yell back for them to shut up. 

Zed is the first to notice that things are busy with the guild. Joe nearly knocks Tango over, running to the infirmary with a handful of bandages. Zedaph looks at Tango, both sharing confused looks, before following after the mercenary. Inside the infirmary, most of their friends are there too. Talking in small groups, trading information in whispers and passing papers. 

Tango grabs Mumbo as he makes his way towards the exit, fingers wrapping into the leather of Mumbo’s jacket. “Mumbo...what’s going on?” 

Mumbo turns, smoothing out his mustache and hair. He’s the only one that doesn’t seem at all frazzled. “Eh, Scar found a body out in the forest- turns out the body is still working. Now they’re trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Stuff way beyond my capacity, dude.” 

“A person?” Zed echoes, frowning. 

Mumbo shrugs. “Yeah… though he kinda reminds me of Impulse. Looks exactly like him.” 

Zed and Tango share shocked glances, and Tango immediately lets go of Mumbo as they sprint past the others, ignoring the shouts. Mumbo simply shrugs, walking out and sauntering to the nearest bar. Not the strangest thing to happen to him. 

"Should've known you two would come." Cub states as the two barge into the room. 

"Is it really him?" Zed's voice betrays his disbelief. He wants it to be true, for all those gods he's dedicated himself to finally be answering his prayers. Tango flutters closer, peeking around the blinds to see.

"I...I truly doubt its Impulse. He just looks like him." Cub sighs, watching the hope on the two's faces collapse. They creep closer all the same, getting a good look at the stranger in the hospital bed.

Dark brown hair, wispy and unruly, frames a pale and weak face. Even unconscious, the stranger's brows are furrowed together as if he's thinking through some complex problem. He's wearing a torn up white shirt, the buttons lost or in the wrong hole and the tail of the shirt untucked. His hips and legs disappear under the bed's covers, but one foot has been pulled out. White bandages wrap around his ankle, spots of red slowly growing. 

And then there's his arm. Opposite of the arm that the stranger's IV is protruding from, red and black catch the pair's attention. Underneath a slick coat of medicinal salve, angry red skin and dark burns surround a series of letters and numbers tattooed under the skin. Zed points to the arm opposite of him. "What is all that?"

"We...aren't really sure." Ren whispers, setting his quill down from taking notes. "Scar thinks its some kind of cult thing, Xisuma says maybe an experiment of sorts. But without him awake, we won't be able to tell for sure."

But while Zed is focused on the tattoo, Tango can't take his eyes off of the stranger's neck. Black, blue, and purple marks ring  around the skin, the surrounding area inflamed. The bruises are tight against the person's neck, nestled at the juncture of jaw to spine. Right on his trachea. 

Cub notices Tango’s gaze. "Someone else did that, poor kid. Someone tried to kill him. And nearly succeeded."

For Tango and Zed, its like seeing a ghost. It looks exactly like Impulse, from his hair all the way to the dirt under his fingernails. But it can't be true. This isn't really Impulse. Just someone who looks like him. But how much they both want it to be real.

Tango looks up, seeing fluorescent light glinting off of something on the bed stand. It’s not like anything else in the infirmary- dirty brass against the sterile white and silver of the room. Tango flits over the bed, picking up the item. It’s dented, with the clock face ripped open. Trapped at twilight hour, not quite daylight and not quite nighttime. “Was this with him?” 

Cub nods. “I don’t know why, but he wouldn’t let go of it. Even unconscious, we had to pry his fingers off it.” 

Zed peeks over Tango’s shoulder and wings, violet eyes taking in the damage. It’s quite broken- but not destroyed. The two look at each other, then the stranger, and finally the clock. “We… let’s see if we can do something with this.”

#edolas au #edolas hermits #hermitcraft au #dystopia au #edolas impulse #impulsesv #hermitcraft impulse #edolas scar #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #hermitcraft scar #edolas cub #cubfan135 #hermitcraft cub #edolas mumbo #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft mumbo #edolas zedaph #edolas zed #zedaph #hermitcraft zedaph #edolas tango #tangotek #hermitcraft tango

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 3

Previous Chapter

An Edolas Hermit story (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Alone and beyond the walls of the city, Impulse is on the run. Trying to find safety from the faces that haunt him, and how they always seem to know where he is. 

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Part three for everyone to enjoy! I know this isn’t how redstone works, but I’m taking creative liberty here. Chemistry class coming in handy, I guess? 

Warning: this story contains general dark elements and language. Burn wounds also present in this chapter. 

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Impulse doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until a bright light wakes him up. Beside his head, the old brass clock continues to tick away. A steady, calming pace against the silent forest. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, waiting for them to gain vision and correct from the unintentional sleep. He didn’t mean to sleep. He didn’t want to stop running, but he honestly doesn’t remember how he fell asleep. 

The first thing Impulse does is open his mouth to wish Zed and Tango good morning. But he remembers that they aren’t here. They aren’t with him. They’re back in Hermitland, trapped. And he’s out here, on the run. All that time digging that tunnel digging freedom for all of them, and in a single strike Tango brought it all down. Impulse wants to be furious at him for doing that. Making the decision for him, forcing him to continue without them. But every time he thinks of Zed and Tango, he only feels loss. He just wants to see them again. 

He looks around, black eyes against the white birch trees staring back at him. Watching him. Even when the bright light shines in their eyes, they never stop staring. Impulse startles nearly out of his skin at the sound of a loud door slamming shut. Impulse tries to stand, but falls back to his knees. He can’t seem to gain control of his muscles, at least not in his legs. 

When he turns over, he sees he wasn’t really asleep. A bright green dart is sticking out of his legs, the vial empty of it’s contents. He was drugged. Impulse grabs the dart, yanking it free from his skin and trousers. His breath catches in his throat as he hears voices whispering through the trees. He can’t see where they’re coming from, but he knows the voices well enough.

“Doc said he got a hit on him. According to my system, he should be right nearby. Give or take a couple yards or so.” A warm sensation pulsates from Impulse’s arm as he hears Cub speak. Cub’s calm voice slithers through the infinite eyes of the forest, watching Impulse as if they’re speaking about him. As if they are Cub’s eyes. 

Maybe they are. How else would Cub know where he is? Surely Cub would know how to do something like that, set up cameras within the forest. That must be it, the trees are watching him. They have to be. He has to run, he needs to put more distance between himself and the city. He stumbles and crawls, trying to regain a sense of control over his legs. 

“Don’t overwork your tech, Cub. He has to come out of the woodwork at some point.” Xisuma’s voice is unhindered by his mask, and through the leaves Impulse can see the general’s face. He hasn’t seen those eyes, the scars and long ponytail since the gallows. The only time he saw any hint of Xisuma’s resolve slip away, the mention of a brother Impulse never knew the leader even had. But none of that is in his voice now. It’s sharp, like the point of a compass’s needle. Searching for it’s target. 

Searching for Impulse. He manages to get feeling in his toes again, and wastes no time laying on the ground any longer. He doesn’t care if Xisuma or Cub sees him- he takes off running. Dodging and weaving around the birch forest, trying to escape the eyes that follow him in his escape. He hears the two behind him, but he doesn’t dare look back. He has to be faster. 

No. He has to be smarter. That’s what got Impulse into this predicament in the first place, isn’t it? He needs to use his brain one more time, to figure out how to get himself out of this. He can feel the shadow of Hermitland still following him, overshadowing him. The eyes in the sky still watching him. He needs to get underground, where he can’t be seen. 

The next cave that Impulse spots is hardly even a cave, rather just a hole in the dirt beneath a massive birch tree. But it’s dark, and none of the trees’ eyes can see him from within. Impulse wriggles himself in, the roots and rocks ripping at his clothes. He keeps his clock close to his heart, both ticking on and on- one much faster than the other. His shoe gets caught, trapped in the roots as voices grow closer. He yanks and pulls, but the tree has him captured. Can Cub control trees as well? 

Impulse bites back a cry as he wrenches free his foot, the bark and wood cutting into his skin and mangling the mismatched workboot. He lost the other when he was hanged, kicking around for purchase- Zed was kind enough to notice, and find him another one. Despite the pain racking across his body, from his foot to the warm sensation in his arm, right under his tattoo, he keeps silent. 

The footsteps grow closer, staggered by conversation between Xisuma and Cub. The steps stop, but Xisuma’s voice only grows louder. “You can’t run forever, kid. We know where you are. Even if we can’t see you, we know where you are. We always know.” 

The tingling, warm sensation in Impulse’s arm seems to grow, his skin crawling along his tattoo. A silent gasp escapes from his lips, before being clapped shut by one hand. The other presses down on the ID tag, and Impulse closes his eyes to try and ignore the rising fear and pain. The way his skin crawls- at the pain in his arm, or the charismatic voice just above him? 

Impulse turns his arm, looking to see what’s causing the burning, tingling sensation on it. Did he cut himself? Was he hit? He struggles to see in the small hovel, but he can just make out the black markings along his skin. 

Except they’re red. No, that’s not right. He knows that his ID tattoo is black He’s had it since he was a child, he’s looked at it every single day. He’s looked at others, every. Single. Day. Tango, Zed, everyone had a black tattoo. But his is definitely red- not blood red, like the skin has grown angry or he cut himself. It’s a brighter shade. It reminds him of…

Redstone. It all clicks together now. It’s not the trees that are guiding Xisuma and Cub to Impulse. 

It’s himself. The ink must be redstone infused, more of Cub’s brilliant inventions put to bad use. No matter how far Impulse runs, no matter where he hides, they will know where he is. They always knew where he was, there is no escape from Hermitland so long as his ID tattoo continues to locate his position. 

Which means he’s only trapped himself in this hole. Impulse crawls in the tight space, looking to see if he could dig through. Like he did to escape the city. But he’s met by stone, too strong to break on his own. Impulse listens above him, holding his breath and keeping a keen ear. Xisuma and Cub walk around, trying to pinpoint where he is. 

As their footsteps start to get quieter, more distant, Impulse charges. Through the roots, snapping them in his mad dash to freedom. He stumbles, but doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop when he hears Cub and Xisuma exclaim behind him. He doesn’t stop when he hears something clicking, or an arrow whiz past his head. Impulse nearly knocks himself out as he runs into the white bark of a birch tree, careening off it and continuing to run. He can feel his legs aching, tired of running. How long has he been chased? He can’t remember any more.

Lucky for Impulse, he’s faster than Cub and X. Young legs and a limber body, day in and day out of hard work on redstone lines and machinery. He doesn’t stop running until he can no longer hear or see the leaders of the city. Even then, he puts more distance between them and himself. Just for good measure. 

He wants to pass out as he stops. Just to curl up against the bone white birch trees, and let their eyes gaze upon him as he sleeps. At least he knows it’s not the trees that watch for Cub. But that’s something he needs to do before he can even think of resting. He needs to stop from being tracked. 

Impulse sits down, legs throbbing and ankle covered in dried blood and splinters. He turns his arm over, running a finger over the letters and numbers that mark his skin. It’s still warm, the color of activated redstone. They’re still tracking him. 

“Come on, Impulse. You know redstone. How can you get rid of this?” He whispers, looking from his tattoo to the clock still firmly in his grasp. He’s never letting it leave his side. The sun on the clock is rising, firey rays emanating across the light blue sky. 

Fire. Redstone can’t handle high temperatures- it causes the dust to denature, unable to carry the current. Rendering the dust useless. He always had to be careful where he laid redstone lines, making sure they weren’t near hot water pipes or somewhere fire could reach them. Impulse gulps, breathing hitching as he realizes what he’s going to have to do. It’s not going to be pretty. 

And he’s going to have to do it fast. Impulse gathers wood, setting twigs and dry grass into a pile. He digs through his bag, feeling his fingers alight on a small pair of flint and steel. He may be no survivalist, but he does know a thing or two on how to make ends meet. How to make the most out of what little he has. Flint and steel is illegal contraband in the city- nothing that it does is anything Xisuma or his cohorts would want to happen. But it was a tool, made by Tango and his infinite knowledge of underground activities. 

Impulse’s hands shake as he strikes the flint once, twice. Sparks cascade to the grass, burning and lighting the small fire. He feeds the flames, hands shaking as the heat grows. Once it’s burning bright, almost to the point that it’s out of control, Impulse places a flat rock deep into the coals, only a thin end sticking out for him to grab later. Now he needs his hands free, so he places his prized clock on the ground in front of him. He pulls off his white button up shirt, looking at the grass and dirt stains on it. He tugs on the sleeves, then again with more force. The threads snap, and he pulls apart the white shirt. The same white shirt that him and every other person in the city ever wore. It feels good to pull it apart. It feels like betrayal, ripping apart everything he’s ever known, everyone he’s ever loved. 

His hands shake as he pulls the stone loose from the fire, the smooth grey rock hot even on the end that wasn’t submerged in flame. Should Impulse really be doing this? Can’t there be a better way to ruin the ID tattoo’s tracking without hurting himself? He’s sure if he had more time, more resources, more minds to collaborate with, he’d have a better answer. But right now, this is the best he’s got. 

Impulse takes a few small breaths, in and out. Trying to build up the courage to do it. And, in one last deep gulp, he stops thinking and just does it. He presses the heated stone against his skin, crying out into the forest as the heat shocks and burns across his skin. Every nerve in his body screams for him to stop, but he doesn’t let go. Not until he’s sure the redstone has been denatured. He sees the ink of his tattoo fade to black as the skin around it turns a jaded red, and that’s when Impulse finally drops the stone. 

Right onto his clock. The sharp end of the heavy slate rock punctures through the dial of the worn brass face, before the stone collapses across the rest of the face. Impulse gasps, hand holding his arm as he grasps for the clock. Completely ignoring the burning pain as he tosses the rock aside, he gasps and groans with each movement of his arm, picking up the shattered clock face. 

He holds the broken clock close to his ear, silencing his gasping breath to try and listen for the telltale ticking of the gears, the clock slowly turning from day to night and back to day. But it’s silent, immobile. The brass has fractured, dented and broken where the edge of the rock punctured the face. The rest is dented, flattened and bent all out of sorts. Even if the stone didn’t fracture through the clock face, the dents would have ground the gears to a halt. 

It’s broken. The last thing his friends gave him, a little piece of himself back before fleeing, and he broke it. Impulse can’t tell if he’s crying from the pain in his arms or the pain in his heart. Zed and Tango risked being seen to retrieve this clock. They knew how important such a simple little clock was to him. When anyone else would have tossed away as trash, a stupid, poorly designed brass clock, they knew it was his most precious possession. They gave it to him, thinking of him. And he broke it. 

Impulse struggles to wrap the shreds of his shirt sleeve around his arm, protecting the burnt tattoo from further harm. He needs to keep moving. He can’t stop. He can’t afford to stop, not this far in. Not after everything. 

But his pace is slower, sprint falling to a jog, and tears streaking as he carries the broken clock close to his broken heart.

#hermitcraft impulse #edolas hermits #edolas impulse #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft cub #hermitcraft doc #hermitcraft xisuma #cubfan135 #docm77 #xisumavoid #edolas au #dystopia au #dystopia hermits #tw violence #violence cw #cw burns #tw burns

[theguardiansofredland]

I know that you've made many posts about the edolas hermits, but could you make a summary-style post about them? I don't personally watch all of the hermits, so I don't quite immediately know what to imagine their opposites like. I'm not asking anything crazy, just possibly a short summary of what each edolas hermit is like?

Yeah of course!

Mumbo: Flirty party bastard. Just doesn’t give a shit most of the time. Secret musician. Likes to fight Scar cause he’s stupid and his face is stupid.

Scar: Bastard #2 prick who is mad at himself all the time. Likes to fight Mumbo because he’s a moron with a negative IQ

Cleo: Big bookworm big sis

Doc: Over ambitious cinnamon roll who wants to be useful

Ren: Quiet mischievous cat man. Low key bastard but only in the cat sense

Grian: Anxiety cinnamon roll.

Bdubs: Has Aspergers and just wants to be your friend.

Joe: Silent, mute, assassin but is actually a good dude

X: Rat man scientist. Steals your dna while you sleep and is a cryptid.

TFC: Cub during demise aka mr invincible

Cub: Happy dad man who is everyone’s therapist and adopted father.

False: Kind of a klutz but she means well

Stress: Stressed out 24/7 cannot catch a break

Iskall: Stick up the ass who is done with everyone’s shit.

Impulse: Paranoid, conspiracy theorist and is not from this world

Tango: Angel boi. Just wants you to not get hurt cause for fucks sake this is the 3rd time today you did something stupid

Zedaph: Religious extremist but the funny and good kind. Switches new gods every Tuesday. Likes summoning things.

Keralis: Broken, intimidating, can and will fight you. Likes to stab things. Very stoic actually.

All of them have dumbass energy

#red rambles #edolas hermits #masterpost

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 4

Previous Chapter

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Impulse has escaped the city, avoided the leaders, but now he’s lost in a world he knows nothing about. And no matter how far he goes, it’s never far enough to stop the feeling of being watched

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LET”s try this again shall we?. Yada yada nods to other games, easter eggs and inspiration. 

But still! CHECK OUT RED HIS WORK IS AMAZING AND HE”S THE FUCKING GENIUS THAT CAME UP WITH THIS. I just put words to paper. Sometimes I do it well. 

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language

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The hours stretch into days, the sun rising and setting without a clock to tell Impulse when the nights are looming and retreating. He seemed to have lost Xisuma and Cub a while back, but that doesn’t stop him from running. He can’t put enough distance between them and himself. He can’t put enough distance between the city and himself. 

But he knows that with each step away from the bonds of Hermitland, it’s also a step away from the bonds of friendship. Leaving behind Tango and Zed, being forced to continue without them has been some of the worst thoughts that haunt his mind. Are they okay? Were they seen? Does Cub know who they are? Will they be able to escape some other way? Join him beyond the walls? Questions haunt Impulse in the day, and nightmares run wild at night. Nightmares of what horrible experiences they may have to endure, experiences like he went through. Being caught, interrogated, put through rehabilitation. Or worse. 

The worst nightmares aren’t ones of himself being hurt, or his friends being caught. It’s of them forgetting him. Moving on with their lives, giving up on their shared dreams of freedom. Of the classes they’d taken together, the long evenings studying for engineering exams, cool nights on rooftops dreaming of a world beyond the walls. No memory, no recollection of Impulse. No one left to remember, to care about a poor boy with big dreams to help people. 

As Impulse travels through the birch forest, he’s learned not to trust anything. The eyes of the trees, the whispers of the leaves all betray him. The squeaks and howls of animals are distant voices, carrying the message of his location to unwanted ears. Even the sticks on the ground, the grass are traps in disguise. Ensnaring the city boy and making his paranoia grow. Everything is out to get him. Just like in Hermitland. No, because of Hermitland. It’s all a part of the bigger conspiracy. 

If Tango and Zed were here, they’d be able to quell his fears. Prove to his mind and all it’s wayward conclusions that it’s just coincidence. Tango’s skepticism and caution would point out the flaws of Impulse’s fears, the coincidences that break the story. And Zed would have filled in what was left with optimism, truth and guidance to ease away the sharp worries. 

But it’s just Impulse. Alone in the wild, alone in the world. Is there anyone beyond the walls, or is he the only soul out here? Impulse isn’t sure if he could take living alone, like some hermit out here in a forest full of eyes. Full of things waiting to hurt him, waiting to rat him out to things that only want to do him harm. People that only want to do him harm. 

Impulse trips, crashing into the ground. Clumps of grass and dirt stick to his sweaty face, and he spits a leaf out from between his teeth. He twists, looking to see what brought him to his knees. Sunlight filtering through the trees glistens off two metal buttons, blinding Impulse as he stands in the reflected illumination. Impulse creeps closer, looking at what he caught his foot on. 

It’s a doll, a little rag doll not dissimilar from the toys he grew up with. Metal buttons for eyes, tattered fabric skin and clothes. A plant has grown from it’s chest, the stuffing within long ago stolen by birds and beasts. His foot was caught in the cavity that remains, nearly ripping the toy to shreds. 

Impulse turns his gaze to his surroundings. Trees grow from sharp rises, cliff faces of moss and lichen. No, not hills and cliffs. Homes. Lampposts overgrown with vines, flowers blooming from where lights used to shine down. Rusted iron support beams have fallen apart, tied to the ground by roots and grass. Crumbled stones and structures lay in heaping mounds, cairns of a time long past. Impulse digs the heel of his boot through the grass, and finds concrete beneath the thin layer of dirt. 

He also sees black marks on the stone walls, wooden posts charred and piles of ash tucked in the corners of homes. This must’ve been from a time before Hermitland, before the wall. 

This village was burned in the war with the nether. After all the lies he’s been fed, Impulse was starting to doubt the existence of such an event. But nothing else could explain damage like this. This is more firepower than any overworld army could do. This is why Hermitland was built. What Xisuma, Cub, and Doc were trying to protect the city and it’s people from. 

Utter ruin, total annihilation. But the line between defense and deception is so very thin, so easy to cross without ever realizing. Impulse feels the wind brush past his cheeks, his breath huffing as he stays still for just a minute. Between the broken windows and collapsed doors, he swears he can hear the voices of people long forgotten. The daily life of this village, long lost. 

Impulse can’t help his curiosity. He needs to know more, about the people of this place and how it came to ruin. He feels it’s only fair. Most of the buildings are missing roofs, left to the devices of the elements. Plants have grown over what animals haven’t taken, reclaiming the village in nature’s name. Bringing life back to a town that was once dead. Impulse clambers into one building that still has most of it’s roof, though heavily charred. The forces of nature have been kept at bay more so in this room than the rest of the village. 

It’s a library. Or, it was a library. Most of the books are gone, and the shelves have collapsed into blackened rubble. Impulse picks his way through, picking up whatever books remain. A recipe book, delicious and colorful meals making his stomach growl and ache. He hasn’t eaten in days. A manual on how to play some sort of tabletop game. Best played with three or more people. 

One book does catch Impulse’s eye. It’s a thick tome, the leather binding and yellow pages charred by the fire that had swept through the library. Portals to Other Dimensions: 3rd Edition. Impulse raises an eyebrow, and carefully flips through the pages within. They nearly crumble at his touch, but he’s able to make sense of what he’s reading. 

There may not be a way for him to get as far away from Hermitland in this dimension...but what about other dimensions? Or even other worlds? Anywhere is better than here. There’s nothing left for him here. The nether dimension is absolutely a no, but the book does mention something about another dimension. It’s vague, but something about a place full of lost things. Isn’t Impulse a lost thing? 

He flips the page, but the paper disintegrates before he can read on how to get to this End dimension. The next page says something about stone and brick. Is that how he gets to the End? He can build a portal to a different dimension, just by scrounging up stone from the ruins of this city. He can escape to the End, far away from everything the Overworld and the nether has ever done to hurt him. Make a new life in this strange new dimension, no matter how harsh it is. 

So Impulse begins to build. Tossing off his tattered buttonup, and tightening the bandage around his burns, he gathers stone and stone brick. He organizes the heavy material into an arrangement as close as he can mimic to what he hopes is the End portal. He doesn’t know what it looks like, but the book says that nether portals are six by nine meters of obsidian. If stone bricks have something to do with the end portal, then it’s reasonable for him to assume that it’ll be in a similar arrangement. 

The sun sets on the ruined city and ruined boy, but Impulse doesn’t stop. His pace becomes feverish, to the point that he actually puts his broken clock to the side so he can work without worry of breaking it more. It sits next to the open book, catching the moonlight. Impulse refuses to stop. No amount of hunger, fatigue, or pain will stop him now. He’s run so far, but not far enough. There’s still a chance he could be found in the Overworld. He needs to go beyond. 

Impulse scrambles up the lopsided portal frame, pushing his dirty, windswept hair out of his eyes as he places the keystone at the peak of the portal. One stone brick portal, which hopefully will take Impulse to the End. Impulse steps back, admiring his handiwork, and feeling his entire body screaming for him to stop. To rest, to eat, to heal. 

But his fear, his paranoia tell him to keep going. He swears he can hear voices in the distant, whispering among the leaves of the trees. People are close, or at least he can swear they are. People who want to harm Impulse. He rushes to pull out his flint and steel, not even taking the time to test the striker before sparking the portal. The rift opening nearly throws him off his feet, red swirls and sparks drifting free of the portal frame. 

He did it. He opened a portal. Hopefully, a portal to the End. Impulse grabs his clock, and steps up to the portal. In the distance of the birch forest, beyond the ever present eyes surrounding him, he can hear something howling. He doesn’t hesitate. 

Impulse leaps through the portal. His mind and body feels distorted, like he’s going to throw up. Like everything and nothing is happening to him. He exists, yet he doesn’t. Every atom of his being colliding and condensing. Until he’s out the other side. 

He stumbles forward, catching his weight on a sapling. But the young tree can’t handle the weight of the young man, and snaps. For the second time today, Impulse goes crashing to the dirt. But this time, he leaps back to his feet, ignoring the dirt and grass. His feet drag against the ground, body tired from running, low on energy. He’s running on empty, nearly burned out. Not enough to stop him from breaking his own portal. 

Impulse rips the stone portal apart, rock after rock tossed in all directions around him. The frame collapses under its weight, severing the connection between the birch forest and wherever he is now. He doesn’t care- he’s gone, in a completely different place than Hermitland. Somewhere Xisuma can’t get him. Somewhere no one...not even his best friends...could ever find him. It’s all gone, all the bad. But so is all the good. 

Days of running, without food and fighting through the painful cuts and bruises all over his body finally catches Impulse. He barely has enough forethought to step away from the rubble before his knees give out from under him. 

He’s gone before his head hits the ground.

#edolas impulse #impulsesv #hermitcraft impulse #hermitcraft au #edolas au #edolas #dystopia au #dystopia hermits #second time's the charm? #i hope

[theguardiansofredland]

Ok, so I know its super late, buuuut, what was edolas tango and zed's reaction to impulse 'coming back'?

This is a super bad sketch I did late at night. But it’s basically this

#red rambles

[theguardiansofredland]

Is there anything you can tell bout Edolas Impulse? The dystopia one

Boy has endured more physical and psychological pain than he should have. If he’s not trying to fortify his secret hideout, he’s toiling over a clock. His first redstone project. Last thing he has of his world’s tango and Zed

He hates being alone. He’s terrified of it. Being alone means someone is watching. And anything that could be considered a camera, or a microphone he has a panic attack when seeing. He has a journal under his bed. Where he writes letters to himself, his parents from the dystopia, Tango and Zed.

He’s convinced himself that the Edolas Tango and Zed are his friends from the other world just reincarnated. To the point where the lie has become the truth.

#red rambles #edolas impulse

[theguardiansofredland]

What more can you tell us about the 'Dystopian' au?

Impulse learned about how Cub, X, and Doc were using illusions and holograms. Essentially placing them in an augmented reality. Everything was fake. He got this info by accidentally tapping into the phone line and overheard a conversation while he was working on redstone.

He, Zed, and Tango talked in secret about escaping together one day.

After the three knew Impulse knew more than he should Impulse had to escape. He had to run. However the redstone infused ID tattoo made that difficult. It was essentially a tracking device.

However Impulse ran anyways. In the dead of night through the birch tree forest in the cold. He needed to escape. He created an impromptu portal out of the blocks they provided the hermits with and activated it with redstone. That portal led him to Edolas. He immediately broke the portal, ran a bit more and then passed out.

#red rambles #edolas hermits #dystopian au #edolas impulse #backstory

[theguardiansofredland]

Impulse's relationship with his Edolas version and, if you wanna answer, Edolas ZIT dynamic?

Impulse is very concerned about his Edolas counterpart. And also very off put by him. He just keeps his distance.

Edolas ZIT mainly consists of Zed and Impulse rambling about some sort of conspiracy or religion and Tango apologizing to everyone they come across because the other two are embarrassing him.

#red rambles #edolas hermitcraft #edolas hermits

[theguardiansofredland]

Y’all don’t even know the angsty as fuck backstory for Edolas Impulse, and Edolas Tango and Zed.

It’s so sad it’s beautiful

#red rambles

[theguardiansofredland]

Do Edolas Tango and Zed every find out Dystopian Impulse's whole past or even that he's from a different world?

Yes they do know that he’s from a different universe. And yeah they’re the only people Impulse can fully trust with the information of his past and his home

#red rambles