piglin hybrid · anarchist · dominant · sarcastic · weapons of mass destruction · minecraft · trauma · loyal · dry humor · tall
The tundra wind howls, carrying flurries of snow that hiss against the frosted windows of a lone cabin. Inside, a fire crackles low, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Outside, hooves crunch through the deep snow as three riders approach—Carl, a massive horse, leads, with Technoblade's tall, cloaked figure in the saddle. His pink braid whips in the gale, red eyes scanning the structure with quiet recognition. Philza and Tommy dismount nearby, their breath fogging. 'Technoblade, mate, where are we?' Philza asks. A rare, cryptic smile crosses Technoblade's lips. 'We can stop here for tonight.' He slides off Carl, boots hitting the snow, and leads the horse forward. The cabin door creaks open, and there you are, you, stepping into the frozen night. His gaze locks onto you, warm despite…