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It’s been many years, so many that Techno could barely remember the “Before Times” as he always referred to it as. This was in reference to the curse placed upon the once human warrior. If it weren’t for the journals he had kept in his younger days, those Before Times would be forgotten or dismissed as a mere dream. These books with messy scrawls are the only things keeping Techno from caving to his “newfound”… savage side.
He didn’t always have this savage side to him, he once was a fierce human warrior who fought against any and all unjust rulers, declaring that an anarchic practice must be put into play for anyone to truly be happy. During his march to the palace to take down the tyrant, a beautiful woman wearing a dark Victorian dress, a black sun hat with a light veil around the rim and a pair of eyes deeper than the night sky on its clearest night. She stopped the handsome warrior as he passed, for it was getting late in the evening. “Prithee, weary traveler, do you wish for a night’s stay in my humble home?”
Taken aback by this spontaneous offer, he stopped his purposeful march. “What brought forth this act of kindness towards a stranger, who of which wields a sword?”
She gives him a somber, knowing smile. “You’ve been traveling for days, sir, please come in, I’ve just readied a wonderful potato stew and I fear I’ve made far too much.”
Techno was befuddled; a woman he had never seen before in his life had somehow deduced that he had in fact been traveling for days with very little to no sleep. This mission he was on may as well had been a suicide mission for how delieriously tired he was. He caves, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “And I’d be no inconvenience to you?”
“Oh, but of course not! I wouldn’t have invited you to stay if you would have been.”
And thus, Techno enters the strange, but kind woman’s home, taking the seat she offered to him and showing his deepest gratitude for the shelter and food she so graciously gave to him. As he finished his third bowl of stew and sat back the woman let out a light chuckle.
“My, my, you eat like a pig who has not been fed in a week!” He looks away sheepishly, for his meals were small and few, this was the first home-cooked meal in a fortnight. She dwells no further for the topic and moves along, a curious, but mildly concerned glint in her eyes. “May I ask the name of the handsome stranger I have the pleasure of acquainting?”
“Technoblade.”
Her cheerful gaze darkens and her smile falls. “I was afraid so.” There was a pause and Techno raised an eyebrow. “Oh! Forgive me, my name is Kristin,” she reached out her hand, which he shakes as a proper formal greeting, “I am but a humble prophet, and I was warning of a brunette man wielding a black metal sword, gilded with gold.”
He gave her a skeptical look, for the prophecy she assumed to be revolving around him is too vague for his liking. “Did the prophecy speak of anything else?”
She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, before speaking in a mystical voice (or it sounded so to Technoblade’s ears), “A young warrior, scarred and worn from battles, wielding a gold gilded black sword shall walk your path and must be warned. The powers thou art fooling around with have a secret gem and we, the deities of thy country; nay, thy entire existence, prithee that he take heed to the warning, for the consequences are no small matter.”
She opens her eyes and folds her hand before her, lowering her eyes, dark hair falling forward to mask her emotions. “That is what the deities had told me, and this is not the first time that this has happened.”
Techno’s curiosity peaked. “Oh? Pray tell me the story, dear Kristin.”
Kristin’s motherly worry falls into that of a tired ex-wife as she lets out a sigh and her shoulders slump forward. “Long ago, long before you even,” (For prophets live much longer than others, due to them being the deity's “favorites”) “I once had a husband who acted much like you. He was a strong warrior who only wanted justice for those who could not fight for themselves, and that is what he always fought for. I acted as his medic, curing his wounds, should he receive any but he was quick footed in battle so it was not often that he would. As you and I both know, the very monarch you are off to defeat is the disciple of a very powerful deity, and this monarch has been in power for decades; centuries even.”
Technoblade nods, this was a widely known fact and it wasn’t uncommon for people to live well over a century, and perhaps even up to three.
“My husband had gone off to try and defeat the monarch, and bless his kind heart but it became his downfall. He proposed an offer: he shall spare the deity’s disciple if she should step down and not meddle in mortal affairs. She was greatly angered - for this deity is very easily angered - and she brought down a curse on him. My darling husband was cursed to be partially a wild beast, a crow to be exact. He sprouted two large black wings from his back, and feathers on his face as if they were mutton chops of sorts. His hands became rough, and clawed, his eyes once as blue as the clearest sky turned to a deep amber; he looked much like what fallen angels were described to be. He was shunned, feared and even chased and attacked and so for my own safety, he left me to go on a journey to find his place in the world.”
Technoblade was speechless but rested a hand on Kristin’s shoulder as silent tears fell down her cheeks. She looks up with a melancholic smile. “Oh, don’t worry too much about me, Technoblade, I’m but an old woman anymore, awaiting his next letter.”
“Letter?”
“Oh yes, on occasion he would drop by while I was asleep and leave a letter at my door, telling tales of his travels. His latest one spoke of a young boy who was cursed with immortality he has taken under his wings,” she laughs softly, “literally and figuratively.”
He cracked a small smile at this, “It’s wonderful that he does come by and fills you in on what he’s been off doing and not just leaving you in the dark.”
She nods her head in agreement and lets out a small yawn, looking over to the dying embers of the fire, then out the window at the deep orange giving away to the darkness of night. Techno follows her gaze, and there is a knowing silence before she stands, gathering the dishes and placing them onto a counter. He watches as she disappears for a few moments before returning with a bundle of blankets and pillows. She smiles sheepishly as she hands them to the hero. “My apologies, I do not have a spare bedroom and I fear that you may be too tall to sleep on the couch.”
Techno nodded his head in appreciation, waving it off, “It’s no issue to me, I’m just glad to have a place to rest that isn’t the hard ground.”
Kristin laughs lightly, turning towards a set of stairs. “Good night, dear, and sleep well. You’ve a long day before you.” And with that, she made her way up the stairs, Techno made himself comfortable on the couch or at the very least, as comfortable as he could be. Just as the profit had guessed, he was too tall for the couch, but anyone could’ve seen that.
A gentle yawn catches the attention of the warrior, who gathered his armor and items about to embark out to his possible death. The kind profit stood in the doorway, making contact with the warrior, glancing away from the apologetic look. “So… today’s the big day, isn’t it?”
Techno nods his head solemnly, his grip tightening around the sheath of his sword. “That it is. I want to thank you again, Mrs. Kristin, for allowing me to rest and replenish my energy in the comfort of your home.”
“‘Twas no issue at all, my dear Technoblade. Please, at least have breakfast before you venture forth.”
He hesitates, considering the thought of another home cooked meal, but he just attaches his sheath to his belt. “As much as I would love to stay, I must be on my way if I wish to accomplish my mission today.”
She sighs, nodding and doesn’t say another word, but instead assists the warrior in armoring up, refusing to meet his eyes. She gives him some bread for the road and embraces him, as he was about to leave. “Do be careful, I fear you’ll meet the same fate as my husband.”
His eyes widened as she stepped back for tears were rolling steadily down her cheeks. He rests his hands upon her shoulders, eyebrows furrowing in determination. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be careful and I will be back afterwards.”
And with that, Technoblade embarked back on his quest to the castle.
He was on edge, the castle and surrounding town all seemed to be a ghost town, the only signs of life were the weeds outside. The echo of Techno’s shoes and armor seemed twenty times louder, echoing through the large corridors. He was expecting to have had to fight his way to get to the throne, to find this tyrant and yet, his path had not once crossed with another human since he departed from Kristin’s house. He searched high and low, his anxiety getting the better of him in a few moments when his own armor shifting echoed in a way it almost seemed as if there were another person. He finally got to the throne room and stood outside it preparing himself to charge and burst in, ready to face whatever was on the other side of the door. He looks around and then straightens his posture, seeing that the throne room, much like the rest of the castle, was abandoned and drafty.
For the first time since arriving at the gates, he places his sword into its sheath, but doesn’t remove his hand from its hilt. He continues on, down many different corridors, peering into many different rooms, from an extravagant ballroom, to gorgeous guest bedrooms (or that’s what Techno guessed them to be) to just a simple kitchen. All of these rooms, and yet the warrior still saw absolutely no signs of human life. It was somehow more off putting than the sounds of his own soldiers losing in battle. He stops before an ornate door, carefully unsheathing his sword and gently pushing the doors open to reveal a bedroom, far more elegant than all the previous ones, and it held signs of life, a gentle glow from lit oil lanterns illuminated the area and a tall, willowy figure sat in a velvet seat. Techno gripped his sword tight, preparing to have to fight for his life but in the fire light, he saw the figure stand and turn around, revealing a ghastly looking individual, their eyes entirely void from both pupils and irises. It looked almost as if his eyes even glowed white as he smiled gently at the warrior before him. “Ah, a guest. I haven’t had one in ages.”
“Don’t you try and fool me with your false hospitality, you fiend. You know precisely why I’m here, and if you try anything I’ll have your head in an instant.”
The so called tyrant lets out a small sigh, the exhaustion apparent on his face. He was worn, and had no more fight left in him so he just waved the warrior forward, turning away and pulling two chairs to face each other. Techno was surprised by the trust this monarch had with him, turning their back and placing him at an advantage but against all of his better judgment, he comes forwards and takes a seat, his sword still in his hands. The monarch sat down, folding their hands in their lap. “Now, pray tell, what do you know of me?”
“What I know of you?” Techno scoffs, “You’re a cruel, merciless ruler to your people. You cause them to suffer, put them through hell and back, and even chase them out from their own kingdom. I may not have been alive yet, but I’ve heard stories a plenty of past wars, how you’ve wiped out thousands of armies on your own, and even cursed those who put an attempt on taking the throne you hold dear from you.”
The monarch nods as they listen, then looks down at their hands. “My name is Alastair, son of the tyrant, Herobrine. He was a terrible man, and the one of legends, followed by a powerful deity who craved nothing but bloodshed. I came to a realization that I was the only one who could stop him but I never really wanted to be king. Either way, I took down my father and the deity was pleased. She chose to haunt me, and for a while, I had continued my father’s reign of terror until I realized, this wasn’t the life I wanted, that there was so much more…” They pause and look up, meeting the eyes of the warrior, smiling gently, “I kept to myself here in the castle, dismissed all of the staff and lived alone in this castle for years. I had no idea that the citizens of the kingdom had left.”
Techno wanted to protest, claiming that he knew fully well that Alastair was responsible for this, but there was something about them that made the warrior stop. “Why do you stay here?”
“A small selfish part of me wanted to still make my father proud in some way. I wanted to at least follow his footsteps in some way, and you must be the one to fulfill the prophecy.” Techno looks away, for the first time, feeling terrible for the tyrant and their fate. A gentle hand rests upon his, and he makes eye contact with the kind, knowing eyes of the tyrant as they spoke. “It’s okay, dear knight, it was destiny from the start. Such is fate, and I was bound to it from birth, and I’m glad to at least have been able to tell my tale. Hopefully I can rest in peace, and help you to pacify the deity.”
Technoblade nods and stands, his eyes ablaze with new purpose. His hands grip the sword tighter, “Are you absolutely certain of this, Alastair?” He was answered with a nod and he slayed the king, kneeling down beside them. “I am honored to have done this favor for you, despite your past, you are a kind person and I wish you a peaceful rest.”
A low rumble grows from all around, the sky growing dark with clouds swirling above the castle. Techno makes his way to the balcony, and steps outside, the sky flashing with red lighting, the signature of the Blood God. He watched the sky, stunned by the discovery of just exactly who the deity was; he was glued to the spot with dread. The lightning turned white briefly, earning a gasp from Technoblade. “Alastair! I send my strength to you to defeat that foul beast!”
A rumble came from all around the warrior, as he watched red and white lights dance through the clouds, sometimes alone, sometimes together and sometimes clashing into a pink shower of sparks. He raised his sword up above his head and a bolt of red light came down, almost immediately being joined with a white bolt. The two lights were intertwined when it crashed down upon Technoblade’s sword, knocking the noble hero off of his feet and unconscious.
There was nothing, and yet everything; it was bright and pitch black. The hero looks around, seeing nothing but void around him and yet, there was solid ground beneath him. He walked forward and there was no sound. “Was this death? Is this really what was after life?” he mumbles to himself, searching for really anything at this point. After what seemed to be an eternity there was a light, it was bright and warm, shining a soft pink and at this point Techo stopped, mesmerized by it. A familiar kind voice broke the deafening silence. “Dear warrior, thank you for freeing me and as a token of my gratitude, I did my best to lessen the curse that was sure to be put upon you.”
Techno kneels down, bowing his head in gratitude, “I appreciate this, Alastair, and wish you a fine rest and hopes of being blessed enough to meet you once again in another life.”
There was a light chuckle. “Yes, I’m sure our paths will cross again, now go forth, there is much more to your life.”
He stands and strides forward with purpose to the light, becoming engulfed in its warmth…
Techno woke up with a start and quickly sat up, banging his head as he did so. Groaning, he rubs his head and looks around his surroundings. He was in an unfamiliar house, warm light illuminating the room. He scans his new surroundings, trying to remember how he got there when his eyes landed upon a large, black figure. As quietly as he can manage, he gets up and shuffles towards the door he had spotted but he bumped into a sheathed sword, causing it to fall with a thud that caught the figure's attention. It turned, the black of it turning out to be large feathered wings and a rough man with beast’s eyes and clawed hand stood between them. Techno and the man made eye contact and the beast eyes softened into those of a kind, wise man. “Ah! You’re finally awake, I’ve made some stew with some rabbits I caught, hope you don’t mind that,” he then gestures over to the fallen sword, “I also polished your sword up, though there wasn't much polishing to do.”
Techno glances from the strange bird man to the sword and back, readying himself to lunge for the sword if need be. “Who are you and where am I?”
“The name’s Phil, and this is my home! Heard a bit about you, mate, knew where you were gonna be so I came looking for you and lo and behold, you were out and the tyrant slain. Quite a nasty curse you got there, huh?”
Techno furrows his eyebrows together, “How did you…?” Then it hits him: this must be Kristin’s husband. Surely a man with a wife as kind as she was no threat, so he stood down. “Well, the so-called tyrant was not the one in the stories we’ve heard and told, it was his son. A ruler so overcome by the grief of their predecessors that they gave up the role of king long ago. They rest now.”
Just as he was going to continue a small voice whispered into his ear, “Don’t let your guard down. He’s dangerous.”
Techno whips his head around, searching for the source and another voice pipes up, “Dangerous? He’s just a crow! What’s he going to do, show you his shiny treasures?”
And the voices just kept coming, some speaking over one another, others arguing or having conversations and Phil watched Techno closely as he looked around frantically before his panicked eyes landed on Phil. “Do- do you know where they’re coming from? I can’t see them.”
“...Them?”
“Whoever's speaking, there’s got to be at least three people, probably more… you aren’t magic are you?”
Phil shakes his head, smiling sympathetically. “Looks like the curse is deeper than the surface.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Down the hall, take a gander in the bathroom mirror.”
Techno stumbles down the hall, catching sight of a slender man not too different from Alastair in appearance aside from his golden-brown eyes and bright white streak through his hair who hid away behind a door. They were the least of his worries as he burst into the bathroom, looking into the reflective glass, seeing a boar-like man staring back at him. Slowly, he raised his left hand, touching the snout, watching the reflection do just the same. He looks down at his hands, now noticing the pink fur all over his arms and hoof like hands. Techno strides back out to Phil staring him down, speechless. His thoughts were drowned out by the whispers filling his mind, barely noticing what Phil was saying and he slumped down onto the couch. Phil brings up a stool and sits down, grimacing. “I know it’s a lot, but trust me. You’ll get through it, and I’ll do my best to help ya through it, mate. Me and Wilbur both.”
“Wilbur…?”
Techno looked up, meeting Phil’s kind eyes, turning away only when a loud, clear voice spoke. “He means me.” It was the gold eyed boy. “Looks like you got the worst of the lot of us.”
Phil sends a glare in Wilbur’s direction before patting Techno on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ve got your back.”
“Here you go, Techno.”
Techno looked up from his letter, and saw Wilbur setting down a steaming cup of tea where papers didn’t cover the desk, making a mental note to clean up the study and reshelf the books he had already filled. “Thank you kindly, Wil.”
“Got that letter to Mrs. Kristin done yet? Phil’s heading out really soon.”
“I know, I know. I’m almost done”
Wilbur leaves, rolling his eyes as Techno immersed himself back into his writing. Scrawling out the finishing details, he nods and signs it with his name, rolling the paper and tying it with a ribbon. He takes the tea in one hand, making his way out into the living room where Phil stood preparing himself for his adventure out. “Ayup, Tech! Got that letter for Kristin?”
Techno responded by tossing the tied scroll to Phil, grinning as he waved and made his way out of the house. Through the window, he could see the large wings lift and then fall, pushing the man into the sky. It had been years since the day that Phil had been found and Techno had definitely made his impression on the decor, but it was home to the three. Just three immortal men, cast out from the rest of society, living their best lives.