Death, Thrice Drawn

Good days had bestowed the Grimlands.Clear, bright skies had filled the air for days on end, blue with serenity. No clouds were in sight as the sun shone and the trees swayed gently with the breeze. The colors of the Grimlands, warmed by the sun’s rays, glistening against the boulders of deepslate redstone ore and the dripstone stalagmites. Birds sang in harmony, and the people went out about their days. They talked, they bartered, they ate, they drank. They lived. It was all so peaceful. Nothing out of the ordinary.No one would suspect anything was wrong, that not a single thing was amiss. Everyone went along with their days, their routines, their plans, their lives. Everyone, that was, except fWhip. --Or: Gem is corrupted, and fWhip has to deal with the consequences.