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Voices for the Blade 2k25
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Published:
2025-06-04
Updated:
2025-07-28
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2/4
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Not All Treasure Is Gold

Summary:

Piglins are known by overworlders for a few key characteristics. Their outgoing social behavior, their penchant for striking a bargain, and their love for anything gold. But did you know that sounders also place high value on the protection and happiness of their runts?

Techno didn't. Until he was mistaken for one.

Notes:

Another one of my Voices for the Blade fics, this time for AmethyystFox <3 This was supposed to be a oneshot, oopsie. We all pretend we don't see the chapter count.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Out of all the species that lived within the Nether, piglins were by far the most well-researched by overworlders.

A few different reasons could explain why this was the case. Firstly, piglins were spread widely across the Nether, residing everywhere from the dense crimson forests to the sparse basalt deltas, whether present in large traveling groups or their smaller scouting parties. If you set foot in the Nether even only once, odds were high you'd meet or spot piglins during your trip. This was also why most overworlders were forewarned about always carrying gold with them, since piglins were more hostile to those without it.

Secondly, piglins boasted a higher intelligence than other Nether-dwelling sorts. While it took some time before the full depths of piglin culture and language were recorded, it had become clear eventually that piglins were smart enough to barter, had advanced hunting tactics, understood simple overworld concepts when explained to them, and passed along an extensive oral history through their generations.

Lastly, piglins were social creatures. With the exception of their avoidance or aggression towards those not wearing gold – rumored to be because piglins believed that gold kept the rotting disease away – piglins seemed happy to interact with overworlders whenever they passed through. They weren't shy to approach first either, sometimes trying to find people just to trade with them. And among their own kind, piglins clearly were pack animals too, always sticking close together. A lone piglin was a rare sight. Their smaller villages were more like temporary settlements for long excursions that took them far away from home. A majority of piglins lived in their huge city-like bastions.

Those bastions also happened to be where Overworld research fell woefully short. Piglins were still instinct-driven at their core, very territorial and fiercely protective. While friendly to any overworlder they met out and about, piglins would never allow an outsider close to their bastion, including piglins from other sounders. Any knowledge about bastions that overworlders did possess came from scavenging through the remains of abandoned ones.

Even Technoblade, who had some piglin blood running in his veins himself, had never been inside an inhabited one.

Imagine his surprise when he realized that was where he was being taken.

It dawned on him embarrassingly late that that was what was happening. In his defense, he'd been more than a little distracted by the throbbing of his ankle and the blood pouring down his side. He'd come into the Nether to get some mining done, nothing special. But on the loose netherrack, he'd poorly judged his footing. Techno twisted his ankle when he lost his balance, spraining it in the process of falling down the slope (or breaking it. Techno wasn't certain and he'd rather not check so he could remain insistent it was sprained in the face of Chat's cajoling about the mess up). To add insult to injury – or, well, more injury to the already existing injury – falling down the slope had sent him straight into the path of an angry hoglin. Techno managed to kill the thing, but not before its tusk had gored his stomach open from the top of his hip almost to his navel. Yeah, not exactly his finest moment.

Techno never went anywhere without medical supplies, so even with the gash angrily spilling red all over his shirt, he wasn't worried yet. However, a piglin hunting party spotted him while he was messily trying to wrap up the wound. When they came over to look, Techno wasn't going to complain about it. They might be carrying stuff he could need in a pinch.

A brute came forward first, gesturing with its arms to signal for the others to stay back until it could assess the situation. There were four more piglins lingering behind it, curiously glancing at Techno and oinking softly to each other. Techno couldn't see if they were males or females, that sort of thing was hard to tell in their kind. Not that it mattered much. Piglins probably had no context of gender as a social construct, and roles within the group were assigned solely based on physical build and learned skills.

Brutes were the most visibly distinct, their physique so different from other piglins that there was a time overworlders theorized they were a separate subspecies. More likely chalked up to a biological quirk, brutes were more or less built like brick houses. Techno had never seen any under eight feet, and they could almost compete with hoglins in terms of pure muscle mass. Brutes were protectors and guardians of the sounder, a smidge more hostile than other piglins as a result, though mostly they were capable fighters. You never saw a travelling party or settlement without a brute around, and the number would steadily go up the closer you got to a bastion.

Other piglins devoted themselves to tasks fitting their size. Bigger, stronger piglins were the ones that went out as warriors, hunters, or guards. Smaller, leaner piglins would often be foragers, traders, or scouts. And those were just the most common roles shown to outsiders. From casual observation, overworlders knew that piglins could devote themselves to becoming scribes or scholars, artisans, cooks, builders, crafters, a whole plethora of jobs really. Any group of piglins spotted in the wild would be accompanied by a few brutes, with larger groups not being shy in even taking older shoats along on excursions.

Techno could tell these were hunters because of the weapons slung around their backs and pieces of cut-off hoglin meat and hide that hung from their belts. They might have been hunting the exact same pack of hoglins to which the stray belonged. Techno pressed a hand against the blood pooling from his stomach and looked up at the brute from where he was sitting on the ground.

"Yeah, one sec, I'm trying not to die here."

It snorted lightly in amusement, nostrils flaring. Techno finished up the makeshift bandage first. There was… Yeah, there was more blood than he thought there would be. Maybe that tusk nicked him a bit deeper than he gave it credit for. Techno neglected to bring any potions, so he needed the wound to have enough pressure on it to keep him from bleeding out until he could get to the portal and return to civilization. He didn't want to try stitching himself up out in the open.

He hissed sharply when he accidentally pressed his fingers against the side of the gash too hard, lips curling at the pain. The brute chuffed - presumably in sympathy. It would be very familiar with this sort of injury.

"You didn't happen to bring any regeneration pots, did you?" Techno asked. The brute did not show any sign of understanding him, dark red eyes only taking Techno in with a sort of strange contemplation on its face. Techno wasn't completely unused to people looking at him like that, but mostly it was humans in the Overworld. His hybrid status wasn't always plainly seen, despite the pink hair, so Techno's appearance tended to draw unwanted attention.

When he finished tying the bandage, the pressure put on the wound throbbed dully in time with his heartbeat. Chat insisted that meant an artery had been damaged, but Techno held out hope they were wrong.

"What about gapples?" Techno said. Some of the piglins reacted to that word, making more intense vocalizations. "I can trade you some gol-"

Techno reached for his pouch and stopped.

His greaves were gone.

They could have slid off while he fell, since Techno attached them over the bulkier part of his pants, the straps loose and fraying. Golden armor was kind of cringe in how useless it was when it came to actually protecting the wearer, Techno would swear on netherite any day of the week. So when he went into the nether, the only gold he bothered with was these old greaves. Just something made out of the shiny material that would appease piglins, easy to throw on over his usual fit.

A huge hand moved closer to his face and Techno flinched back. He scrambled to get up and out of reach from the brute, who chuffed again, though it sounded a little louder and more placating that time. Not threatening.

Which was confusing in itself.

Because Techno knew these piglins should be attacking him. He wasn't wearing any gold, so why were they being this calm while near him?

Being on his feet made Techno stumble a little, head swimming with dizziness from the blood loss. His palm remained lightly cupped against his stomach, and he could feel more warmth ooze against the inside of the bandages. He had to keep one knee bent at an angle to take weight off his sprained ankle. And every single other bruise or cut from his tumble was starting to make itself known.

Maybe he got a bit more hurt than he wanted to admit.

The brute huffed, nodding at Techno's stomach too. It was probably thinking the same thing as him. Though that wouldn't go far in clearing up Techno's surprise that he wasn't being torn to pieces at the moment. Then, the brute said something. The word was more of a grunt than anything comprehensible, but there was a clear effort from the brute to make itself enunciate properly.

"Wounded," it observed.

Piglins technically spoke two languages. One was made up entirely of vocalizations, simple noises only comparable to those of animals, heavily supplemented by body language, physical gestures, and - going by some research - scent markers. This was how piglins communicated with each other most of the time, conveying emotions and information and even affection in ways that seemed primitive but were actually very complex, according to linguists. Overworlders could never hope to understand.

The other language was still a uniquely piglin one, but had developed into something more familiar to those who spoke Overworld Common. At least there was actual vocabulary and grammar to pick apart. This method of speaking was used almost exclusively when conversing with overworlders, piglins in other sounders, or when it came to topics where the simpler language fell short.

Techno didn't speak either language, obviously. But at least for the second one, he knew a bunch of words.

"Yeah, banged myself up pretty good," he said, knowing that piglins often understood the common tongue even when they didn't speak it. He looked around wearily, shifting on his feet, trying to find a good escape route. Just because they weren't hostile yet, didn't mean they'd stay this friendly. Maybe they just hadn't noticed the lack of gold yet? The brute didn't approach again.

"Sounder?" it asked curiously.

"What?" Techno said, still confused.

"Your sounder?" it repeated, frowning.

Oh.

Techno's eyes widened as all at once, he realized what was happening.

These guys recognized him as a piglin, or at least piglin enough to belong to a sounder somewhere. He knew that his hybrid traits were a dead giveaway, piglins had treated him a little warmer because of them before, but never enough for him to stop being seen as an outsider, a threat. Was that also why they didn't attack him? Maybe the specific combination of being injured and a piglin hybrid caused some sort of pity reaction in them, despite the absence of gold.

Well, if that was the case, Techno wasn't exactly in any position to complain about it. He'd take not getting attacked when he was already down on his luck.

"I don't have a sounder," he said.

The brute seemed puzzled at that, and there was another round of hurried exclamations exchanged between the piglins. One of them made a certain noise that the others picked up eagerly, repeating it a bunch. The brute looked at them, then back at Techno.

Coming to a sudden conclusion about what he had said, the brute stepped forward again.

Once more, Techno darted back. Though it was more of a pathetic little shuffle, the ankle sparking pain through his entire leg at the slightest movement. He couldn't outrun anybody like this, and maybe not even win in a fight. So he raised his hands.

"Hold on now, maybe we can talk about this."

If him admitting he was an overworlder was what got him killed, Techno would be seriously pissed.

But the brute grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. The gesture did not feel particularly aggressive, though maybe not kind either. Techno gasped when the pain in his stomach doubled at having his body jostled by the sudden manhandling. The brute started to march away while dragging Techno along, speaking to him in disjointed words that were hard to hear over the four piglins that were squealing in… excitement? A little rude that they sounded happy about Techno being hurt.

"Sounder safe," the brute was saying. "Join."

So they were taking him to receive medical care? It certainly beat being murdered, but Techno hadn't seen any piglin villages around. And the portal was right over the other side of the hill.

"We don't need to do that," he started, pulling back somewhat against the grip that encircled his forearm. "Just a little bit of external bleeding, which is where blood is supposed to be to begin with. I bet I barely even have organ failure. Appreciate the offer, though."

The brute didn't budge, walking with single-minded determination while its piglin friends flitted around them. Techno didn't understand. This was extremely odd behavior, even for a happy group trying to help out an overworlder in trouble. Piglins weren't that selfless. They probably expected to be paid for their efforts. Bruh, Techno didn't bring that much gold with him.

Chat's murmurs were growing a little louder, swallowed up in the tide of the animated piglin hunters. Techno winced and rubbed his temple, stopping his half-hearted struggling in favor of trying to listen to their ramblings.

They were repeating the word that the piglins were also saying. The thing they had been calling Techno since earlier.

Techno wasn't surprised Chat knew the word. They often had knowledge of things that Techno didn't, inexplicable as it was. The upside was that Techno could borrow some of that mysterious information in a pinch, with the downside being that Chat lied a lot, so he could never trust them. In this case, however, what they were saying sounded believable. And they were more than happy to translate for him.

Runt.

These piglins had mistaken him for a runt.

Techno couldn't even bring it in himself to be angry. He could kind of see where they were coming from, in some twisted 'other side of the coin' way. In the Overworld, Techno was considered rather intimidating. He was very tall, taller than practically every human he'd ever met and most hybrids of other origins. His physique could be described as buff in a lean way, he trained hard and he was proud of that paying off. Techno's tusks made people shy away from him, his red eyes made small children flinch when he looked at them. His tail tended to be the only hybrid attribute about him that some folks might describe as cute, though never to his face since everybody was too busy backing away once they saw the famed 'Blood God', titleholder of all Hypixel's leaderboards, coming their way.

By piglin standards, Techno was… well… he wasn't as impressive, outwardly.

Most adult piglins had at least a few inches on him, if not a whole foot. Their naturally broader build suited for the Nether made Techno look small in comparison. Techno's skin was pale and furless, more alike that of a newborn piglet than a grown piglin. It probably didn't help that piglin fur got curlier and coarser with age, meaning that Techno's long pink strands were vaguely reminiscent of a child in their softness too. Overall, the human genes that seeped into his features probably bestowed upon him a sort of rounded cuteness that made him read as young to a piglin, or weak and vulnerable. This had always been something that Techno was aware of in the very back of his mind, but never something that was an issue. Most piglins didn't look twice at him when he was out and about after determining he was an outsider. And they definitely didn't think he was weak once they saw him swing his sword around.

So all in all, this was a new experience for Techno.

"Wait, hold on, I'm not-"

He wrenched on his arm more, properly digging his heels in, wanting more than anything to relay that they had made a grievous error in assuming he was some sort of helpless, hurt runt abandoned by his sounder out in the wild on his own, looking for rescue.

The brute shut him up with another deep huff and a tug that pulled Techno an inch or so off the ground. He smothered a yelp of pain, and the piglins tutted, wagging their fingers and one even stomping its feet. As if they were chiding the big guy on his rough behavior. The brute looked vaguely apologetic. It used its other arm to pat Techno on the back while he steadied.

Then it promptly picked Techno up and slung him over its shoulder.

That jolt was painful too, making Techno take in a sharp breath. But the brute was surprisingly delicate as it adjusted him into a comfortable position that honestly, did put some pressure on the stomach wound, so it stopped feeling as if the life was leaking out of Techno. Still, he didn't like this, having the back of his legs circled by thick arms while his arms just kind of dangled. Techno stretched for his sword.

The brute reached up to pluck it from his half-grasp. Techno was at a disadvantage currently. He could only kick in annoyance as it was taken from him and given to one of the piglins, who carried it gladly. It even had the audacity of smiling at Techno when he scowled at it.

"I'm not a runt, guys, this is very unnecessary," Techno insisted. "I got places to be, nerds to beat."

Ignoring him, the brute kept walking at a steady pace. The piglins picked up their chatter again, once in a while waving at Techno or even poking at his cheeks, squealing with delighted laughter when it made his face push up in a frown.

How strange. Was his irritation being interpreted as more cuteness?

Chat seemed to be under the impression that runts were valued highly in sounders, multiplying their glee at Techno being mistaken for one. Techno didn't know if that was true or not. He'd never heard of piglin runts before. If they existed - maybe logically they would, any animal with multiple birth litters would have the chance of one in the bunch that was born much frailer than the rest - they weren't going around with the scavengers and hunters. They were kept out of sight.

They were kept inside the bastions.

This dawned on Techno around the same time he noticed the dark shape looming in the distance. He couldn't see properly, slung over the brute's shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he was, but if he squirmed just right and craned his neck back, Techno could catch a glimpse of smooth blackstone.

They were taking him there?!

"Guys, I'm seriously asking you to reconsider this." Maybe it was a bit pathetic that the kicking of his legs came closer to a toddler throwing a tantrum than somebody putting up a fight while being kidnapped. Techno felt dizzy, and the tips of his fingers had started to tingle vaguely.

He wasn't easily scared, but the thought of what would happen once they entered that bastion made Technoblade reasonably nervous. Sure, maybe this specific brute and its friends had decided Techno was kind of 'abandoned runt' coded and took the opportunity to yoink him, what if the other piglins didn't feel the same way? All they would see was some rando without golden armor invading their home. Techno would be deader than dead. He'd be so dead even Kristin wouldn't know where the heck he went.

He had to call in the big guns.

With some effort, Techno managed to wiggle his communicator out of his pocket and into his hands. Techno pinched his eyes into slits, squinting at the lit up screen. He pulled up his most recent messages and started attempting to type. Not an easy feat in his current predicament, especially as he was still trying to slither out of the brute's hold. But he was able to send one or two things before he was interrupted.

Exasperated with his continued floundering, the brute snatched his uninjured ankle. Techno found himself pulled down more properly into its hold - less of a potato sack and more of a cradled against chest type situation. Another stab of pain accompanied the change in position, and Techno's fingers twitched against his will, dropping the communicator. The piglins didn't pick that one up. Overworld trinkets held little interest to them.

Techno groaned. There went his best chance of getting out of this.

From his unseen peripheral vision, he could hear more noises, steadily increasing in volume. More piglins. And a whole lot of them. Brutes probably patrolled more frequently in this area too, guarding the outer reaches of the sounder's borders against any intruders. And if they deemed Techno one of those, he'd be lucky if they simply chased him off.

Sure enough, the brute that was carrying him suddenly came to a lumbering stop, grip growing a little tighter. Techno could feel its chest rise and fall, then the small rumble of the exchange, noises deep and gruff. Even though chunks of the conversation took place in the more complex piglin language, Techno didn't catch any of it. Maybe because Chat was still busy making fun of him.

He was shifted until the brute had a hold beneath his armpits instead, lifting him like an unruly kitten and holding him at arm's length. This guy truly was freakishly strong. It held him up to the one it had been talking to, another brute barely any smaller.

Techno stared into its heavily scarred face, the beady black eyes, the lips pulling back in a snarl. This was it for him, huh?

But then the brute examining him laughed. Laughed? A loud thunderous chortle. It extended its hand to pat him on the top of his head a few times.

"Runt!" it declared happily.

Maybe if Techno would get out of this with his life intact, then certainly not his dignity.

The brute that was holding him continued onto the bridge that led into the bastion itself. Techno had lost the energy to keep up the escape attempts, vaguely nauseous, not just with nerves but also the wet patch growing on the bandages when he glanced down. He was getting lightheaded. Techno pushed down on the wound again, distantly hoping it could keep him from bleeding out any faster than he already was.

Seeing this, the brute chuffed and awkwardly pet his back in reassurance.

If Chat was right about piglins looking kindly upon runts for some reason, at least that meant they probably wouldn't let him die. Maybe. As long as the misunderstanding persisted.

And - assuming he did survive this - Techno could comfort himself with the dubious honor of being the first person who ever got to see the inside of an active bastion and lived to tell the tale.

Phil was pulled from sleep by his communicator blaring into his ear.

He shot up, sending the device flying in an arch across the room, where it slammed against the wall and clattered onto the ground. The two crows on Phil's desk chittered to each other happily at the nasty trick they played, bobbing up and down.

"Little shits," Phil grumbled at them, rubbing at his face. The crows cackled with more fervor in response.

Sunlight was falling into the bedroom from outside, but the heavy curtains locked out most of the glare. When he worked late on his projects, which happened more often than Phil liked to admit, it wasn't unusual for him to sleep in past noon. He always left his communicator in another room so it wouldn't wake him up with its dreadful chiming. Sometimes, the crows thought that was an invitation to be nuisances. This wasn't the first time they had moved his communicator while he slept.

Yawning, Phil threw off the blankets and stood, stretching until his back audibly cracked. That also made the crows break out in clicking laughter, but a slight glare shut them up. The communicator had stopped ringing in the meantime.

Phil picked it up on his way to the living room, glancing at the screen. The fact that he had already accumulated three missed calls was strange. And they all came from the same person. He pushed the button to dial back and held the device up to his ear while he opened the curtains. The person on the other end picked up within one ring.

"What did Techno do this time?" Phil asked, grinning slightly at the thought of whatever Techno was getting up to. Because there was only ever one reason why Simon Hypixel could be calling him.

"Philza," the man said on the other end, sounding very relieved to hear from him. Other background noise made it hard to understand him. He must be in the hub. "Nothing, it's just- He's done nothing. That's the problem."

Phil hummed slightly while he opened the window too. He shooed the two crows outside back to the rest of the flock. "What do you mean?"

"Technoblade was supposed to be in a tournament this morning," Simon said. "He didn't show up."

"That's strange," Phil said slowly.

"It's definitely not like him," Simon agreed. "He isn't responding to my messages, so I wanted to know if you'd heard from him, maybe?"

"I haven't," Phil said. "I'll keep an eye out, though."

Simon sighed. "Please do. I don't know if he got cold feet or something bad happened, but I'm worried."

"I'm sure he's fine." Phil laughed. "Maybe he's off farming potatoes somewhere again."

After hanging up, Phil scrolled straight into his chatlog. He wouldn't believe in a million years Techno got cold feet about a tournament, so something else must be wrong. He'd better contact Techno and find out for himself.

When he opened the log, there were four missed messages Phil couldn't remember being there before he fell asleep.

[Technoblade said to you: taking a trip into the nether, let me know if you need anything old man]

That one was sent very early in the morning. Techno was always up and about at such ridiculous hours, his day-night rhythm was utter shit. But there also wasn't anything strange about it.

[Technoblade said to you: don't tell anybody but I just took a major L during my trip]

Phil smiled at the vagueness of the message, noting it was sent about an hour after the first. Then another good twenty minutes passed before the last two were sent in quick succession.

[Technoblade said to you: i thnk m be ing kdnpp]

[Technoblade said to you: bstio wt off 120 219]

Those were very strange indeed. And concerning. Phil couldn't really decipher what they meant, though obviously it had to do with Techno not showing up for the tournament, right? Did he run into some sort of trouble in the Nether?

Sighing, Phil pushed the communicator into his pocket and grabbed his pack from the desk. His project would have to go on hold until he could get to the bottom of this.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Embarrassingly enough, Technoblade missed most of the actual 'entering the bastion' part of his kidnapping because he was on the brink of passing out. Being shifted around and carried had prevented him from putting as much pressure on the open wound as he should have, and by the time the blackstone curved above them and Techno felt lava's heat radiating against his skin, all the energy left in him was pretty much spent on blinking and trying not to sink into the darkness behind his eyelids.

He would really prefer to stay conscious because he was still waiting for one of the brutes or piglins of this bastion to notice he was an outsider. And possibly kill him once they did.

Man, that'd be a miserable way for the Legend of Hypixel to go out. Maybe they would never find his body, then people could come up with their own theories about what happened. Philza would definitely spread some honorable rumors. Techno trusted Phil to keep his memory alive and with dignity, even if it was just by telling folks he died to that hoglin and not while being mistaken for an infant.

Or an orphan.

Chat really liked that one, and Techno deflated a little, realizing it was true. Being mistaken for a runt was already embarrassing enough, but he was being mistaken for a parentless runt. Cringe.

The brute carrying him stopped, and Techno squinted to look around more properly. All the other piglins from the hunting party except one were gone. Presumably, they went to bring the meat and hunting trophies where they needed to go. The brute chuffed, and the piglin responded. Techno realized belatedly he could not keep calling them brute and piglin indefinitely, especially in the bastion with so many others around. He'd have to give himself some other way to tell them apart.

He scrutinized them a little closer, trying to find identifying features. He could also discern if they were male or female if he really tried, though the biological dichotomy was miles different from what Techno was used to in Overworld species. These two both seemed female, anyway.

The brute who was doing most of the heavy lifting in Techno's kidnapping - both figuratively and literally - had one of her tusks partly shattered and filled with gold, so Techno might as well call her Tusk. The piglin who stayed with them when entering the bastion had countless glass beads braided into her fur. So Techno decided Bead would work as a name.

Bead said something more, short snorts that sounded a little agitated. They were probably not arguing about whether to kill him or not, if that had been on the agenda, it would have already happened. But whatever else they were talking about was also something they seemingly couldn't agree on. Techno shifted, pressed one hand to Tusks's shoulder so he could push away from the hold a little, and looked down. His shirt was soaked in blood. The bandages already were coming undone.

The action drew Tusk's attention, and she made up her mind about what to do next. Turning to ascend a set of stairs to one of the higher levels of the bastion, Techno found himself being brought into some sort of bedroom or living quarters. The furniture was a bit rudimentary, but such was to be expected from piglins. Technoblade had seen similar setups while scourging through abandoned bastions before. There were weapons hanging from the wall, and some trinkets scattered around the room. Tusk finally put him down on top of a large rectangular slab, the blackstone covered in hoglin hides and a few pillows. Not exactly the most comfortable sleeping arrangement Techno could imagine. Though compared to the stadium barracks at Hypixel, barely much of a difference.

Bead was walking around the room to grab stuff, clearly familiar with where everything was. Techno wondered if Tusk and Bead shared this space then? They could be a bonded pair or family.

"Lean?" Tusk asked, gesturing her hooved fingers at Techno's chest. With a sigh, Techno followed the instruction to lean back against the wall so the brute could pull away the soaked bandages and the fabric of Techno's ruined shirt.

Bead brought over an obsidian bowl with a few warped vines inside and two pieces of white cloth. She ripped the vine open, squeezing out the sticky sap inside. In the absence of water, other types of fluid were used for cleaning injuries in the Nether. Techno was spoiled, though. Water was usually the least painful way to go about it, and he was not looking forward to this.

He clenched his teeth as Bead dapped the cloths across the gash in his stomach. First a dry cloth, to wipe away the sluggishly flowing blood that had half-congealed in the dry heat. Then a second cloth dipped into the warped vine sap, staining Techno's skin a sickly orange. Somehow, it made the injury look even worse. But Techno knew warped vines had some medicinal properties, a slight tingle where the sap had a numbing effect. And he didn't need to worry about infection. Luckily, the Nether was so hot that bacteria couldn't really thrive there. While it brought along an entirely unique roster of things to worry about when getting hurt or ill, infected wounds weren't even in the top ten.

Then again, neither was being yoinked by a bunch of piglins, and Techno had somehow managed to get himself in that predicament.

A pressing of the cloth against where the cut was deepest made Techno gasp a little in surprise, followed by him locking his jaw in place to keep quiet. Bead oinked softly, and then Tusk was patting the top of his head in a strange attempt to comfort him. Techno frowned a little in irritation, but wasn't about to go squirming away from the proper medical care he needed.

After a while, enough warped vine sap had been applied for it to basically coat the wound and stick the torn flesh together, stopping the bleeding. Bead pulled out some fresh bandages and Techno shifted, allowing them to be applied.

"Sounder?" Tusk asked suddenly. Techno glanced up at her from where he was watching Bead work. Hadn't they already gone over this topic?

"Told you I don't have one," he said.

"Why gone? Lost?"

"No, I-" Techno hissed when the bandage was pulled tight, before being able to continue. "I live in the Overworld. On my own."

Or, well, not on his own. If Techno wanted to get technical about it, he could try to explain that Phil was about all the sounder Techno needed to be happy. But that would only complicate the miscommunication more. He didn't think piglins would accept the concept of a two-person sounder.

"Dangerous," Bead said. Tusk chuffed in agreement, crossing her arms.

"The Overworld? Not really."

Bead stood up, carrying the bowl and the gross, dirty rags away out of the room. Techno looked down at his stomach again. With the new bandages, things looked a whole lot better. And while he was still dizzy, he wasn't actively bleeding out anymore. A marked improvement from ten minutes ago. He should probably thank these guys for going through the effort to patch him up.

Before he could open his mouth and do so, something hit him in the face.

Techno flinched, allowing the balled-up fabric to fall into his lap. Tusk let out a deep, rumbling laugh.

"Very dangerous," the brute insisted. "You. No — ." And that was a word Techno wasn't familiar with until Chat laughed along, clarifying that she was making fun of his poor reflexes. For his part, Techno was a little offended Chat never told him it spoke fluent piglin.

"Bruh, it's unfair of you to judge my reflexes when I'm anemic." Techno unfurled the fabric, realizing it was a shirt. "I don't suppose you have anything in my size?"

The brute laughed again, so Techno would take that as a no. He hesitated for a moment before deciding that staying in a sticky, bloodied shirt indefinitely was very much worse than the slight inconvenience of too long sleeves. He tore the ripped shirt off over his head and put on the fresh one.

Tusk made another noise again, though it was a lot deeper and displeased. Techno tensed and pressed his back against the blackstone wall, too wired not to relate such a sound to an upset piglin. And an upset piglin meant imminent aggression in his experience.

Except, it was easy to forget that today, these piglins were firmly on his side. Tusk was looking at him, and only seemed incensed in reaction to Techno's shirt removal. "Dangerous," she repeated.

Techno did have a lot of old bruises and some faint scars. Kind of came with the business of being an arena fighter.

"This has nothing to do with the Overworld being particularly dangerous," Techno said. Though he could kind of tell from Tusk's expression she didn't fully understand what he was saying. All she was seeing was proof that this wasn't the first time Techno had gotten injured. Apparently this upset her. "Look, I don't get sick from the Overworld. So it's fine for me. It's my home. I really will have to go back there eventually."

Tusk didn't respond, promptly turning away to rearrange some of her weapons and other trinkets while ignoring him. Techno didn't know if it was because she couldn't quite grasp Techno's attempt to clear out the misunderstanding or if she was purposefully refusing to acknowledge him. It was really hecking weird either way.

After about a minute of awkward silence, Bead returned with a tray. When she entered, a strong smell came along with her, and while Techno could tell it was the scent of the food she was carrying, it turned his stomach. He'd lost too much blood to be hungry.

But eating would also be the best way to get his energy back quickly. He'd need that if he wanted to show them he was perfectly fine and strong enough to leave.

"Eat," Bead said, sitting down on her knees next to the cot. She put the tray on the ground. "You." She pointed at Tusk. "Eat too."

Tusk huffed lightly at the fussing, and only came over after a glare from Bead. Very hypocritical of the brute, in Techno's opinion. She had the gall to get on Techno's case but didn't show an ounce of proper self-care herself.

Techno looked at the tray, unsure what each item was supposed to be. He had a profound knowledge of most Nether wildlife, but when prepared in dishes, he couldn't really discern what ingredients were used. Since he didn't feel like his body would do the greatest at digesting complex foods, he picked up a handful of dried meat and mushrooms. Better than nothing. Piglins didn't need water, and Techno had inherited the skill of surviving pretty long without dying from dehydration.

Bead waited for both Techno and Tusk to start eating before also picking up a bowl of stew and bringing it closer to herself. She squeaked softly a few times, tail wagging side to side.

"Happy?" Tusk asked, tilting her head in amusement.

"Happy," Bead confirmed.

At least somebody was deriving joy from this odd situation.

Techno finished his food and was trying to decide if this was a good time to gently bring up he was grateful for the hospitality, but he should really be heading back home, when Bead pushed the tray aside and gestured for him to lie down.

"Rest?" she asked. She started to adjust the hoglin hide blankets around his legs.

Techno was tempted to resist. The longer he let this mistake drag on, the more difficult it would be to extract himself later. The rational part of him knew it was probably better to try and explain himself, then leave before he did something to offend these guys. Not wear out his welcome, you know? Besides, Phil would be getting pretty worried by now, especially if he received Techno's messages from earlier.

On the other hand… Techno was absolutely exhausted. And with the adrenaline draining from him fast, the pain not going anywhere, and his stomach full, he could tell his body was in dire need of a break. If he did push himself too much, he might not make it back to the portal. He'd collapse before he got there, and the sprained ankle would significantly slow him down.

Worse than being saved by a piglin hunting party and mistaken for a runt would be having that happen twice on the same day.

So in the end, he decided he would take the offer of resting inside the protection of this bastion. And then when he woke up, he'd try once again to explain this innocent error of judgment they'd made in regards to what exactly Techno was. They'd all laugh about it, surely. Hopefully. Unless they changed their mind about being nice to him, but that was a bridge Techno could cross when he got to it.

"Yeah, I'll rest. Thank you for the food and the bandages," Techno said, scooting back. Bead continued tucking him in a bit as he lay down, really wanting him to be comfortable. Techno closed his eyes with a sigh. The slab that served as a mattress might be rock hard, but every one of his muscles untensed when he finally relaxed. Which mostly meant they throbbed in dull stabs of pain, and his dizziness returned with a vengeance. Sleep would fix that too.

Normally not one to let his guard down easily, Techno found he was so worn out he dozed off in a matter of minutes.

Techno woke up to the sound of three piglins having a very animated conversation right outside the room.

Piglins never built doors in their bastions, every entranceway was basically a stone arch. Sometimes they used crimson vines or hoglin leather to make some sort of covering that allowed a little privacy, but Bead and Tusk didn't have that. This meant the sound carried, and he could hear everything.

Too bad they were speaking a variant of the piglin language Techno could not understand.

He sat up and rubbed his face, grimacing at a small stab of pain in his stomach. Techno didn't know how much time had passed. The only way to track that in the Nether was a communicator, and he had lost his. But however long it had been, it definitely wasn't enough for the wound to heal much.

Noticing that he was moving, Bead broke off the conversation and joined Techno again. Another piglin followed her, and Tusk stayed standing at the door.

The newcomer was elderly, evidenced by the paling tinge of his fur and how coarse the hair was. He was wearing a layered, brightly dyed outfit. A belt around his middle held various potion bottles, though all were empty, and little satchels of medicinal herbs.

Doc seemed a good name for him, since Techno assumed he was some sort of medic.

Techno thought Doc was there to check on the injury, but when the old piglin knelt next to Bead, he simply offered a placid nod to Techno. "Runt?"

"Not exactly," Techno said.

Bead responded to that with a word Techno didn't know, and Doc nodded more. "Small."

"Now you're just hurting my pride," Techno mumbled. He knew he was short compared to these piglins, but come on, he wasn't that short.

"Age?" Doc asked.

"I'm an adult," Techno said. He knew what they were playing at.

Doc nodded again. He seemed to do that a lot. Tusk gave up her silent vigil at the door and walked into the room. "No sounder," she said. "Alone. Hurt."

"You're making it sound a lot worse than it was," Techno tried to protest.

A pointed look from Tusk shut him up. "Hurt a lot. Hurt often."

"Runt without sounder bad," Doc decided. "Stay."

"No, no, I really can't stay." Techno stood up from the cot, using the wall to keep his balance when his ankle twinged in pain.

This had the opposite effect. Tusk stepped forward, steadying him with a hand on his upper arm and his back, but then not letting go. Bead oinked in soft distress, and Doc pivoted to shaking his head. Suddenly, Techno didn't mind all the nodding half as much.

"Runt important," Doc said. "Important for sounder. Gold."

"Gold?" Techno repeated back. No, that wasn't quite what he said. There was another word in the piglin language that was often translated as the rough equivalent of gold, but was an adjective rather than a noun. What would be the more accurate meaning?

Precious.

Gods, Techno hated it when Chat was right.

"Guys, you don't understand, I need to-"

His objection was undercut by Tusk lifting him again. She was a bit less careful because Techno wasn't bleeding anymore, opting to once more throw him over her shoulder like she'd initially done upon finding him. Doc followed them out of the room, back to nodding in approval.

"Runt without sounder bad," the elder piglin continued to insist. As if Techno was the one misunderstanding. "Runt precious for sounder. You stay."

"I don't think you should be allowed to make that decision for me," Techno said. He struggled against the grip, slightly more successful in fighting back against the manhandling. Tusk grunted, annoyed, and squeezed tight. Techno stopped because he would have an even harder time getting out of the bastion with broken bones.

They went down two sets of staircases, and then another, and then another. The temperature strangely cooled down, which Techno understood had to be a sign they were underground. Beneath the bastion, the lower floors burrowed into the netherrack. The hallways were more winding, and there were no windows anymore. This area would be easier to defend. Harder to escape from.

Actually, this place would be perfect for storing valuable goods. That was why Techno also made his basement hold his most important stashes... Did he just inadvertently compare himself to a gapple?

Eventually, they ended up in a room that was arguably even worse than a basement. Wait, scratch that, for Technoblade, it was a lot worse than that.

A nursery.

Most people had seen shoats before. Piglin hunting and scouting parties would usually take the young ones who had reached equivalent teen age by human standards out on expeditions. But actual piglets, comparable to toddlers and little children, would not be allowed outside the bastion. Like runts, they were a rare sight.

And there, Techno found himself in a room full of them. Lucky him.

Schadenfreude aside - mostly from Chat, who were still thoroughly entertained by what was currently happening to Techno - Techno was confused and getting a little worried about how he would get out of this. If these piglins became insistent that he should stick around, leaving would not be so simple anymore. He'd have to figure out a full escape plan.

Doc went to talk to the only adult piglin already in the nursery, while Tusk put Techno down in the middle of a bunch of pillows. Techno was surprised by how soft the floor was. Compared to the blackstone cot in the bedroom, this was a world of difference. Pillows, duvets, everything covered in hoglin hide, plant fibers, even several things Techno knew for a fact would be traded with overworlders.

"Runt stay here now," Tusk said, gesturing with both hands. "Stay. Safe."

She turned around and left before Techno could stop her, briefly pausing to interact with a few piglets that tried to crowd the brute's legs. They all looked up at her as a protector of the bastion, one of the most noble roles one could have within the sounder. And definitely one many of the little piglets aspired to.

Once the brute was gone, they ended up looking at Techno instead. Several of the piglets tilted their heads in curiosity, oinking, and some inching closer. Techno didn't know how to deal with any of this. He didn't even use the main entrance at the arena because he was terrified of running into fans. Children were one of his main weaknesses.

Techno tried to stand, but his ankle barely managed to hold his weight without a wall to support him, so he sat back down. That... wasn't ideal. He wouldn't be able to run anywhere, if he could even get out of the bastion without being caught.

Doc briefly returned to his side with the other adult, presumably the chosen caretaker of this nursery. She was a broad-shouldered and young piglin with long braids and very prominent necklaces made of amber chunks. Chat easily latched onto the name Amber for her.

Putting a hand on Techno's shoulder, Doc offered him a few parting nods. Techno was starting to think the old guy had some sort of neck issue and had trouble keeping his head up straight. "Safe here. No more hurt."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Techno said flatly. He knew these piglins meant well, but how had things spiraled out of control so badly?

Amber smiled gently, reaching out to pet his cheek after Doc left. Techno did lean away, but she did not let that stop her. Her hand was soft.

"Scared?" She asked.

Techno frowned. "No."

"Then why unhappy?"

"Because I don't want to be here."

Pulling away, Amber huffed. "Why?"

"I'm not a runt."

She laughed. The sound drew in the piglets, some creeping closer with this non-verbal confirmation that their caretaker approved of the stranger among their midst.

"Shame?" Amber asked, looking a little sad.

Techno blinked at her, taking a moment to connect the dots. Man, things would be a lot easier if they spoke the same language.

"I'm not ashamed of being a runt," Techno tried to explain. "I mean, I'm not-"

"Everybody important in sounder," Amber assured. "Runt precious."

They really didn't seem to get it. And at this rate, Techno honestly was starting to wonder if it mattered. Maybe he wasn't a runt in the Overworld, nor would he view himself as one, but to them, he clearly was a smaller, more vulnerable version of a piglin with more fleshy bits that could bleed. If he could exchange the open stomach wound for a sword, he might convince them otherwise. But if their opinion was already set in stone based on his appearance alone, there was little Techno could do to change their minds by way of words.

"Here." Amber beckoned him to sit in front of her. Techno hesitated, but then did as he was told, moving over while facing her. She hummed slightly, and readjusted the straps of her clothing so she could lower herself to the floor too. Techno noticed the drapes of fabric were somewhat similar to Doc's outfit. Piglins that stayed in the bastion rather than went out could get away with more elaborate clothing. A large flap of fabric slung across her back was actually a carrier in which a newborn piglet was sleeping, chin tucked into Amber's shoulder.

She touched his cheek again, cupping the warm flesh for a moment. Techno tried not to squirm in response to the tenderness. He wasn't used to this.

"Strong," Amber said. "You. Very strong runt. Very proud."

Techno didn't even attempt to deny the runt allegations this time.

"But strength also needs rest. Brutes take turns, care for and be cared for." She pulled away. "And taking care of runt makes sounder good. Runt precious, because runt — ." Another word he didn't know, and Chat seemed unwilling to translate.

"I don't understand," Techno said.

"More runts in sounder makes sounder happy," Amber explained patiently. "Sounder blessed when runt in bastion. Rare. Sign of fortune and survival."

The Nether was a harsh place, Techno supposed that the ability to take care of weaker sounder members could be a good sign that a piglin pack was thriving. Though Chat whispered in his ear that there was more to it than that. The words Amber used for 'blessed' and 'fortune', they were not literal meanings. They were usually found in purely religious contexts.

A gift from the gods.

"Runt must stay in bastion," Amber insisted, pressing a hand to his chest. "If runt leave, bad. And dangerous."

Techno sighed. "Yeah, gotcha."

He was honestly exhausted again, and still in a decent amount of pain. He didn't feel up to arguing about this. For the moment, he would need to put up with it.

Amber seemed pleased enough at his acceptance. She hummed again, and gestured for him to turn around. She had taken a bone comb out of her pocket. Techno knew where this was headed. He didn't fight it when the piglin started to delicately work the knots out of his long hair. It had become pretty messy in the whole ordeal of falling down the hill, and Techno hadn't bothered to fix it any. Amber tutted a bit at seeing the tangles.

"Very proud runt," she said, almost a bit mocking. "Not proud of hair, it seems."

"Did anybody ever tell you piglins are extremely judgmental?" Techno asked. Amber snorted a laugh. Techno winced at a harder tug on his hair, though it wasn't Amber's careful hands that caused it. One of the small piglets was helping her by braiding the already combed section.

Another sat down beside Techno, looking up at him curiously. When Techno didn't shoo it away fast enough, a third leaned onto his knee and a fourth plopped down in his lap, hesitantly poking his cheek. Stranger danger must not be a concept in piglin culture.

A light glint caught in the corner of Techno's eye, and he slightly turned his head. Amber was holding a long, thin chain of gold, which was being worked into his hair also. "Is this really necessary?" Techno asked. While wearing gold in the Nether was usually a good thing, he was worried that if he was wearing the sounder's gold, they'd be even more reluctant to let him leave.

"Proof you're ours," Amber said simply. "Gold shows, runt belongs to us."

Oh yeah, Techno was completely screwed.

He should definitely find a way out of this as soon as possible, or hope that Phil would turn up with some bright idea to free him.

Phil did not have a bright idea of what he should do about his discovery.

His first plan of action was obviously to go into the Nether, since that was where Techno had gone off to before mysteriously disappearing into thin air. Then he roughly tried to follow the coordinates Techno had sent him, and pinged his communicator a few times. That second one had no success, since the device was offline. Either destroyed or out of power.

Eventually, Phil pinned down a rough area for his search, though the effort to do so was painfully slow. The Nether was Phil's least favorite type of domain. It was dangerous, too sweltering hot for comfort, and the lack of air flow meant flying was tricky at best, something only to be done with an active death wish at worst. Phil fucking hated it, and he was reminded every second why he made others grind in the Nether when he wanted supplies. He'd gladly never set foot inside again.

But for Techno, the world. And for Techno, the sweat-soaked shirts and soul sand creeping into crevices Phil would rather not mention out loud. He was going to find Techno, and then he was going to make fun of him for needing to be found, and then Phil would pick a tundra biome to chill out in. Maybe he'd built a cabin or two.

Eventually, after several hours, Phil found some stuff that looked promising. A dead hoglin, abandoned pieces of golden armor. He could only assume they were related to Techno's vanishing since he hadn't seen anybody else around.

Then the new problem, the one he was currently trying to find a solution to.

Techno's message mentioned going west. But the place was positively teeming with piglins, and most of them not very friendly. Phil guessed there was probably an active bastion in that direction. If Techno had gone there - or worse, was taken there by force - Phil would need to find some way inside, either without being spotted or by killing a small army of piglins and brutes. Neither an easy task, and the murdering was more of a last resort.

Phil's only consolation was that piglins weren't exactly known for taking prisoners. If they'd wanted to kill Techno, they'd have done so on the spot. So whatever was going on, Techno could probably bear with it while Phil figured this out.

And if he couldn't, murder was certainly still on the table.

Notes:

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