Chapter Text
Piglins looked on with curiosity as a stranger shambled into their stables. He didn’t look very dangerous; he was smaller than they were, anyhow, and visibly ragged from heat.
The Brutes— protectors of the piglins— had brandished their shining axes, demanding to know where the stranger had come from. In response, the stranger took off his striped hat as a sign of non-aggression. He needed a place to stay, it seemed. He’d offered gold, a readily accepted currency, and as soon as the brutes had sheathed their axes and agreed to let him stay, he collapsed.
Maybe he was from Frostfell? Frostfell was so cold that their home must seem boiling in comparison. He looked as if he was overheated. Few creatures from Frostfell came to this world, and none had visited this bastion, so they were curious about him and his world.
The Brutes decided they’d keep him around. One wrong move, and he was dead, they said.
It was certainly the talk of the bastion to see something so unlike anything in their world.
Philza opened his eyes to the interior of a blackstone cell. He sat up, brushing what looked like red hay off his wings and side. Was he inside the black structure he’d seen?
He shook himself out a little, but it didn’t help the numbness. He had gotten overheated and had to stop here, from what he could remember.
Maybe he’d been a bit irrational, flying over the lava ocean alone.
Yesterday, he’d gone to the bar Techno frequented to check if he was there. Techno never drank, but the bar did trivia night, and the pink-haired fighter would never turn down a competition like that.
Techno wasn’t there, which Phil half expected. He was about to leave to continue his search in the Nether.
“It’s about time you give up,” the bartender had told Phil. “You’re never going to find him.”
“I’ve just got to fly farther. There’s a lava ocean near the portal that I haven’t flown over.”
“He’s gone, Phil. You’re not going to find him.” The bartender sighed. “People don’t always come back from the Nether.”
“You don’t know Techno.”
So this was what was on the other side of the lava ocean. A city in a single, massive building, populated by the pig-like people of the Nether. Maybe Techno was here, too.
The heat in here was almost unbearable; the air was stuffy, and smelled like sulfur. He hoped he could find his friend fast and head home.
Phil suddenly realized he was being watched. He got to his feet, noticing one of the piglins standing just outside the gate to the cell. It held an axe, and was heavily armored and wearing black, similar to the ones who he’d given his gold to earlier.
He checked for his weapon; it was gone. Everything he’d had with him was gone except for his jewelry and his hat.
He gave the armored piglin a wave. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected coming to piglins for help, but at least he was in one piece.
The piglin unlocked the gate, stepping inside carefully. It barked a question in its language.
Phil chuckled nervously. “I have no idea what you’re saying, dude.”
It seemed a little taken aback by Phil’s alien dialect, but hid it as well as it could. It gestured to the axe, then pointed to Phil.
“No, I don’t have an axe,” Phil shook his head.
It seemed satisfied with that answer, but grunted something cautiously accusatory. Phil assumed it was something along the lines of “I’m watching you.”
“Can I have my stuff back?” Phil asked.
The piglin gave him a confused look.
Phil patted his hips, where his sword had been sheathed, and motioned adjusting his satchel.
The piglin seemed to understand, and said something kind of affirmative.
“I still can’t understand you.”
It motioned to just follow.
Phil couldn’t think of anything better to do; if he did what they wanted, he had a better chance of having his sword returned and getting to ask about Techno.
As they walked under the worn blackstone, Phil realized he was in some sort of stable; unusually tame-looking hoglins were housed in cells similar to his own. He’d never seen hoglins this close without being in danger; they were fluffier than he’d thought. There were piglins around the area, peering from behind rubble or pretending they weren't watching; Phil realized what a stranger he was here.
He was led to a black room accented with gold and basalt. More of the armored, axe-wielding piglins were here. His stuff was distributed between two tables; on one table was his now-empty satchel, his food, his fire resistance potions, and his other non-weaponizable items. His bow, fireworks, pickaxe, and sword were laid out carefully on the far table. He could tell the piglins didn’t want him going near those yet, so he left the table alone, and reloaded his satchel.
One piglin grunted something that he could understand by tone as some equivalent to “why are you here?”
“I’m looking...” Phil tapped next to his eye, then pointed around to represent wandering, “for my friend.” He gestured to himself, then apart, hoping they’d get that he meant someone like himself.
There were some inquisitive grunts.
Phil continued to gesture out what he said. “He’s about this tall... Pink hair... Wears fancy clothes?”
They hadn’t seen anyone of that description. With their own gestures, they asked if he was from the Nether; if he was from a place much colder than here, he would be the first of his kind to arrive.
“So Techno’s not here.” Phil sighed. He hadn’t really expected to find him, but he’d been hoping for it. This was the last place he hadn’t checked; further than out here, there was almost no chance of finding Techno. He signed out the next part: “Can I take the rest and leave? I’ve got to take that home.”
He could take the sword if he had an escort. He seemed reasonable enough. He had to return, though, and bring something from the cold place he was from.
“Glad you’ll trust me.” Phil sheathed his sword, slung his bow and quiver between his wings, and joined the escort.
He was disappointed about the lack of Techno— maybe the bartender was right— but he still had some ideas of places he hadn’t looked.
“Grrreuh!”
Phil’s thoughts were interrupted by the sudden yelp of a piglin. He looked down from the balcony on which he stood with his escort, seeing a group of four piglins trying to hold down a hoglin with chains. It struggled against them, changing direction to snap at each one.
“That hoglin’s hurt.” Phil murmured aloud.
One of the piglins next to him elbowed his arm, before gesturing, “injured, wild hoglins are captured. They calm down later.”
Phil remembered the hunters near the portal. “That’ll be food?”
One of his piglin escorts shrugged, mocking his gesture for food. “We’ll eat it later.”
The hoglin kicked at one of the piglins, trying to pull off its chains using its hooves.
“Do they usually act like that?” Phil asked. It almost seemed to be planning an escape, rather than just fighting.
“Sometimes.”
The hoglin met eyes with Phil for just a moment, but an unmistakable look of recognition flickered across its face. Immediately, it started forcing its way towards Phil on the balcony, dragging all four of its captors with it.
“Is that your hoglin?”
“I’ve never seen this pig before in my life,” Phil gestured, “but it might have seen me somewhere.”
The piglins below shouted something to the escorts. The escort on Phil’s right shouted something back. Then it motioned to Phil, “they say it’s more trouble than it’s worth. Want it?”
Phil looked at it again. It stared him down, that same disbelieving look on its face. “I’ll...” He hesitated. What was he doing? “I’ll take care of it.” He wasn’t sure why he agreed. Maybe he felt bad for it? Maybe it was because it fought like Techno– never giving up.
Hoglins were hostile. He’d never stood close to one without being attacked. For a moment, though, he forgot about that; he leapt off the balcony, fluttering to land before the hoglin. It stopped, acknowledging him before snapping at another piglin.
“Do I know you?”
The hoglin’s relief turned to surprise, then disappointment. It leaned down, bringing its massive nose just below Phil’s chin. It held eye contact, and Phil could tell that it trusted him, if nothing else.
“Never mind. Let’s go,” Phil noticed how his escort encircled them with defensiveness inspired by Phil’s sudden movement. The hoglin followed him out, and the hunter piglins removed the chains.
Once they were free on the nether wastes, and the structure was far in the distance, Phil noted to the hoglin, “Next time I’m here, I’ll pay them back for being so nice to me.”
The hoglin nodded in approval.
Phil did a double-take. “You know what I’m saying?”
The hoglin seemed to think that it was common sense, but switched to nodding in response, as if it had momentarily forgotten that maybe this was unusual among hoglins.
“And you speak common?”
Another nod.
“You’re not just nodding, are you?”
The hoglin processed for a moment, then shook its head.
“Pog,” Phil adjusted his hat. “You’re free now. Where are you going to go?”
The hoglin’s ears perked up, and it glanced around before resting its head on Phil’s shoulder.
“You can’t come with me,” Phil pointed out over the ocean. “I come from the other side of that. I can’t carry you...”
It raised a brow.
“Look how big you are. No way, dude.”
It huffed, then continued walking along the shore.
“Look. I’m gonna come back at some point, okay? I can— look, I can make you a little home, and then I’ll know where to find you.”
It held a sad, pleading stare.
“Fine! I promise I’ll come back.” Phil grumbled. “As soon as I can.”
The hoglin looked satisfied. It growled something with an almost-playful tone, which almost sounded like a witty “fly safely!”