31 short stories

Day 13: Lost

The fanart above isn't 100℅ how I picture techno in this, but it's just for some reference.

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The nether was dark, well, as dark as a world of lava and flames could be. Lava bubbled noisily, hearable from over 50 blocks up. Striders mindlessly strode through the molten rock, cooled rock layers crumbling from their thick skin to reheat in the deep bowels of the magma seas. Ghasts roamed through the "skies" of the nether, the word sky said lightly. Once you reach a certain height, whatever sky that could be there is blocked by layers of netherack and bedrock. The quiet cries of the ghasts echoed in some caves, bouncing back and forth until they were nothing but quiet whispers.

In the grand nether fortresses, massive structures of dark brick, bones clicked and armour clanked as either skeletons patrolled long abandoned corridors, swirling black patterns mapping their bones. In open landings surrounded by fencing, there were blazes: floating heads surrounded by spiralling rods, every inch of it basking in an eternal inferno.

Barren soulsand valleys lay desolate other than a few randomly scattered blocks. In times when all other sounds are minimal, it isn't abnormal to hear voices: screams, the origins of which are the very sands themselves. Massive fossils from ancient times are scattered within the sands, some random ribcages or skulls emerging from the sands after an unknown amount of time spent withering away below the surface.

Tree-like fungi create a canopy over the crimson forests, casting some shade over the nylium-covered floor. Huge pig-like creatures stomp through this biome, their thick hide u bothered by the scraping of faux logs when they walk through. These hoglins have a head of black hair and impressive tusks no one would want to be on the wrong side of. None take the risk of attacking them except the piglins: humanoid creature who have an understanding of currency as they trade things for gold and vice versa. These nomad beings hunt the hoglins for it's large quantity of meat.

Another form of forests are found in the nether, these warped flora and fauna inspiring its name. Not many species of animal stay in this biome other than the occasional enderman and maybe a strider or two. Then there's one of the most dangerous biomes of the nether: basalt deltas. These pits of lava and dense clouds of ash make it uninhabited by all except magma cubes. They aren't much to marvel at though, seeing as they rarely have much of an understanding of their surroundings. The fact they do casually jump of ledges into the magma below is sure evidence of this.

All these creatures have a clear home, most even have a community within their species. Except for one. A creature with none exactly the same as them. They had a pink tinge to their thick skin, hooves that were forever used to the scalding beat of the nether, but also other, unique traits. Slim fingers, for example. Other piglins had large, clumpy ones made for beating things with their bare hands, despite the fact they do use weapons. There's so his long, pink hair. Most piglins don't even have hair, let alone hair with such a vibrant shade. His nose was different too, more like a broad human nose than a pig's. He had the pointed, slightly flappy ears, but even those weren't the same. Tiny tusks that peaked out from his bottom lip further differentiated him.

For this, Technoblade was shunned from childhood. Mocked by piglin children, which are then dragged away from the "freak" by their parents. Other adult piglins glared at him, some even beat him or chased him away. He was accepted by their zombified brethren with open arms, though. Not. Most times, they treated him even worse. On several occasions, he was almost bit! The closest he had gotten to a companion was a small hoglin he was followed by one day, but that ended quickly once it attempted to impale him with a tusk.

There was no source of comfort for the 8 year old pig-boy, only solitude. And even then, he felt he wasn't fully alone; a random whisper, the feeling of warm breath on the back of his neck, shadows in the corners of his vision. They scared him to no end at first, but after that they had nothing over him. He knew they randomly started and stopped, so he had no need to worry about something that, in the end, did no harm to him.

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It was on any normal day that Technoblade stumbled upon something after escaping a persistent zombie piglin desperate for a meal: a frame of black Rock that shone with an ethereal purple glow. In the middle of it was a purple screen, swirls and spirals drifting across the surface of it. Purple specks of light fell off it before vanishing a few seconds later. Techno took one of the hands he'd bunched in his torn brown tunic and drew it towards the mysterious screen.

He shot his hand back and cradled it to his chest as a chill ran up his arm. It wasn't hot. It was something else, something that numbed the tips of his fingers and flowed up his arm. The screen itself passed around the pads of each finger, letting his hand pass through but staying solid. It rippled as he pulled his hand back before falling still once again. There was a foggy feeling in the back of his mind, but Techno's curiosity translated into persistence.

This time, he extended a hoofed foot, lightly kicking the frame. There was a quiet click, but nothing more. Carefully, he clambered up until he had to lean back to prevent touching the swirling screen. Then, in one swift moment, he released the edges of the frame and stepped through the screen. His scrunched-closed eyes carefully opened.

He was simply on the other side.

He once again clambered up onto the frame, and this time, he stepped slowly through until the cold screen split straight down his middle. Suddenly, his head felt heavy and the world seemed to warp around him. His arms shot out as he tried to keep his balance, the near-silent static in the back of his mind becoming a sharp ringing before every thing shifted.

He fell from the frame, cradling his head as the nauseating feelings began to reside. It was then he noticed the harsh chill of whatever he was laying on. Shooting up, his vision was full of white. He closed his eyes quickly and rubbed them, hoping to help his vision. He opened his eyes again, and again he saw white. But this time, he saw the uneven surface of the white. He slowly reached his hand out to the floor, and it gave way under his hand. He pulled his red palm back to see a perfect indent of his outstretched hand remaining in the snow. Shuffling his feet, he noticed they left the exact same effect.

He began running around, giggling with a raspy throat as he dashed through the snow. He was having so much fun that he didn't notice his pink skin taking a shade of red in some places and becoming pale in others. He also lost track of direction. He looked around to see tall trees painted white, a wide open plain of white, but no purple portal, no black frame. He looked behind him to see disrupted snow, but all the snow amongst the trees looked that way.

He began to feel the numbness of his hands, the burning in his lungs that only seemed to get worse as he drew in breaths of frozen air. His clothes failed to provide any warmth to him, they were made for heat afterall. His thoughts began to spiral.
He had no way to get home.
He was in an unfamiliar place, world even.
Who knows what sort of creatures could be there.
How would he find food?
What if got attacked by something?

Heavy breaths became shallow as Techno's eyes frantically shot to his surroundings in a futile attempt to look for something, anything, that could help him get his bearings. Hot tears flooded his eyes and left trails of pink over the now slightly warmer skin.

Then he saw a figure: a woman with a large hat and a black dress, but what caught Techno's attention was the great big wings on her back. She froze as she saw him, and Techno felt all hope drain from him as they quickly approached him.
This is it, he thought, I'm gonna die.
The extremely tall woman crouched down to his level, all but sitting on the floor in front of him. "Hello little one.", she greeted in a soft voice that was barely above a whisper.

It was like a switch flipped in Techno's brain as the lady reached a warm hand to his shaky figure, and he quickly latched on to her, relishing in the warmth she provided. He didn't care if this was a ploy to keep him from running, to prevent the need to chase her prey. Technoblade desperately needed comfort, and was just happy he had some. The fully embraced the stranger's warmth and promptly passed out from exhaustion. The lady looked down at the piglin-boy in her arms, seeing the colouring of his skin and immediately knowing he was bound to get ill.

"Phil, get over here! I've found a child, I think they're lost."