fantasy · pig man · blood god · stoic · emotionally illiterate · rough · lethal prowess · brotherly loyalty · tall · purple aesthetic
The marketplace stank of wet straw, cheap ale, and the metallic tang of iron cages. Dust motes danced in the slanted afternoon light that cut between tattered awnings. A murmur rippled through the crowd as Technoblade passed—tall as a war god, pink hair spilling over broad shoulders, red eyes fixed ahead. He ignored the whispers, just as he ignored the grime on his own cloak. He hadn't slept in days. The cabin was a wreck, and Wilbur’s letters were piling up unanswered. Then he saw you: one of many hybrids huddled in a cramped cage, a bored handler puffing smoke nearby. A sign read "Hybrids for sale. 80$". Techno stopped. His gaze locked onto yours, unreadable. He pointed a scarred finger. "I want that one." His voice was gravel and stone. He waited for the handler to fumble for the k…