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It's hot here. That's all mumbo can think of, beyond the fog of his brain. There was fog in the distance as well. The air was thick and heavy with moisture, in a way that only a place so close to the lava layer could be.
Mumbo stopped under a warped tree. Every cell in his body begged to run, to get away from the blue fungus. His back prickled as he sat down against the trunk, with the gnarls of the wood digging into his back. It was all he could do to not jump up and run. But he could not run, not yet.
He had been walking for so long now, and the nether wasn't helping him get track of time. He could have been here for anywhere from a minute to a month.
Eventually, Mumbo was too tired to feel the fear of the warped tree that he leaned against. The air around him grew darker. Faintly, Mumbo wondered why. Why would the sky grow darker? There wasn't even a sky to begin with in the nether.
Just before the air turned pitch black, Mumbo realized it was his eyelids that were closing.
-
Mumbo woke up with a jolt. He immediately shot bolt upright as terror gripped his chest. He was sitting under a warped tree in the nether.
Normally, he would be a little confused but fine, chuckling to himself about how he managed to overwork himself that bad. This time was different.
Mumbo didn't know what to do. He was paralyzed in fear, his head still staring directly at the blue wart hanging above his head. The ground rushed under him as Mumbo took off in a sprint. His footsteps alternated between a squishy nylium sound and the strong clack of hoof and rock. It reminded him of what he had become.
The edge of the warped biome soon came into sight. Mumbo had not gone far into it before he passed out.
As he crossed the boundary between the soft wrong-looking blue ground and the safe red rock.
Mumbo collapsed on the netherrack. A breath escaped his lungs that he didn't realize he was able to hold.
Terror still seized his chest and made thinking hard, but the bulk of the terror had passed. He just had to leave this cursed place. And he did just that. Mumbo set off directly away from the warped forest. Each step he took lessened the tightness in his chest little by little until he felt safe again.
He walked for a while. Walking is a mindless task, and Mumbo didn't dislike that. His mind wandered to a fro, never sticking on a topic for too long. The topic that kept dancing in his mind was his recent transformation. He plodded onward.
Ever since the beginning of season 8, Mumbo had noticed some weird things. First and most present was his desire to kill. He suppressed that easily enough, but the rush of adrenaline he felt course through his veins as he saw another animal fall victim to his end crystals was something part of him would always savor.
That part made his stomach clench. He did not want to be like that part of him. He did not want that part to be part of him.
Mumbo shook his head to clear the thoughts. He took a handful of redstone- which looked too much like blood for his tastes- out and began to tinker with it. His thoughts quieted, finally. Mumbo continued walking.
-
All things have to come to a close, Mumbo realized as he bumped face-first into a dark wall. It was rough and dusty on his hoof as he touched it. Mumbo's mind blanked for a second.
"Come on you spoon, what does a black wall in the nether mean-" Mumbo muttered to himself, running his hooves over his suit’s cuffs.
A bastion! That's what a black wall in the nether is! Maybe he wasn't such a spoon after all.
Oh. Bastions meant piglins. And piglin brutes. Mumbo took an involuntary step back. Brutes meant danger.
But Mumbo was a piglin now, which meant that he would be ok, right? After all, piglin brutes only attacked players. They left piglins, even the ones that were from outside the bastion, alone.
Mumbo squared his shoulders, steeling himself. He would go into the bastion and ask directions. He would not tell anyone that he was actually a player. He would be brave and he would be strong.
He approached the most door-looking structure. It was unguarded from the outside. He was most definitely not strong or brave right now.
Mumbo entered the door slowly. His eyes darted around and picked up all the information he could see. The door opened to a large room. Piglins walked along passageways around the sides and crossed the middle of the room all the way up to the ceiling. Some carried swords, like he had expected, but most carried other things. Some piglins carried books, some carried piles of cloth, some carried baskets, and some led children. Some piglins walked in groups, seeming to talk to each other. Mumbo couldn't tell one sound from another. How had he not noticed how loud it was inside until now?
His ears rang for a second, but then it felt right. It felt like something clicked. He felt warm, in a good way and not the overbearing warmth that the nether forced on him. And still he hated it.
He didn't belong here, he belonged back at botem. He belonged back with his human (and not human) friends back at hermitcraft. He certainly did not belong here, where there were only piglins. But it felt so right.
He would only ask for directions. Nothing more. That was the lie he told himself.
As Mumbo walked past the interior doors, a golden sword came to rest in front of him, flat side facing towards his chest. He looked towards the hilt of the sword and there stood a piglin in full golden armor. Mumbo gulped.
The piglin spoke in a series of short grunts.
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean." Mumbo replied, unsure of himself.
The guard tried again, louder. Mumbo could tell that the sounds were the same, but he could not figure out what they meant.
He shrugged his shoulders in confusion.
The piglin guard seemed annoyed, but grunted something to their neighbor. The neighbor grunted something back. The first guard then motioned for Mumbo to follow them. He gladly did.
The guard led him through hot dark corridors, seemingly without direction, until they stopped at a series of doors. They pointed a hoof at Mumbo, moved it to the door, and mimed knocking.
Mumbo slowly reached his hand over to the door and knocked. The piglin guard smiled and nodded quickly.
From inside the room, Mumbo could hear the sound of someone clopping towards the door. The person seemed to pause at the door for a few seconds before letting out a grunt.
The piglin guard grunted in reply. That seemed to assure the person that opening the door was necessary.
The person behind the door was a piglin, taller than mumbo or the guard, and they were built like a heavy lifter. They wore a long, white, loose skirt and a gold-colored wrap around their shoulders. It was a garment that Mumbo remembered seeing on several other piglins as he entered the bastion and throughout the halls.
Mumbo had never felt so intimidated by a piglin in a skirt, baring the time he accidentally stole from Stress's shop and experienced her wrath firsthand.
The piglin grunted at Mumbo, and the guard nudged him as if to prod out an answer.
"Um, hi. I'm Mumbo." Mumbo said with confusion.
The piglin cleared their throat and spoke in common, with a low American-accented voice. "I'm Techno. Nice to meet you."
There was a beat of silence before Mumbo's mouth caught up to his suddenly racing thoughts.
"Oh ok. I just wasn't expecting to hear Common today," he said.
The piglin, Techno, grunted something to the guard who had brought Mumbo here. The guard apparently disagreed, which led to a quick discussion between the two piglins. It ended with the guard grunting, not in communication, but in frustration. They then walked away.
Techno still stood in front of Mumbo. "Come in, please." The piglin spoke in common.
The room that Mumbo stepped into was small, but nice. The walls were black but covered in white and gold markings. There was a simple mat in the corner that Mumbo recognized as a safe nether sleeping mat. On the mat was a full backpack. Lastly, there was a low table in a corner with two folded blankets that probably acted as seats.
Mumbo's intuition about the seats was proven correct as Techno motioned for him to sit down. The taller piglin busied himself for a minute by procuring two cups and a large bowl of a reddish clear liquid.
Techno sat and poured the liquid into the cups in silence, then he spoke. "So you really don't know Piglish," he said, mostly as an observation.
Mumbo nodded and chuckled. "I haven't been a piglin for very long."
"I can tell," Techno said dryly.
Mumbo took a sip of the liquid. It was good. It tasted hearty, like a mushroom stew, but it was still as thin as water.
"Crimson sap. That's what it is. We tap the trees during the heat swells." Techno sounded as awkward as Mumbo felt.
Mumbo decided to try to break the tension. "So, uh, how's the weather here?"
Techno nodded, looking vaguely relieved. "It's been cool for the nether lately. I've enjoyed my visit so far."
Mumbo nodded as well. He didn't have much else to say. He normally could bounce banter off of his friends, but he didn't know how to talk to this new piglin.
Techno set his cup down gently, sighing. "So how did you become a piglin?"
"Well, I was doing my peace love and plants things, when suddenly a pig exploded in front of me and I felt that I couldn't let such a good porkchop go to waste and now I look like this."
Techno looked at him in mild disbelief. "The pig exploded?"
"I may have had a helping hand in it exploding" Mumbo laughed, flashing an end crystal.
Techno barked out a sudden laugh.
"What's so funny?" Mumbo asked.
"Nothing, it's just. You're like me, aren't you?" Techno asked with hope in his eyes.
"L-like you? how would I-"
"Like there's a voice in your ear, telling you to kill. It's telling you that your friends will turn on you, that you should turn on them first." He paused. "I've never seen anyone try to fight the curse before."
"What curse?"
Techno paused before speaking. "The curse of the Harvester. Or the curse of the Blood God."
"Well- that doesn't sound good."
"Because it's not."
Mumbo looked down at his hooves. "How would I know for myself that I'm cursed?"
Techno paused, like he was counting in his head. "Well, I've said the most obvious signs. The overwhelming desire to kill is a big one," he paused. "The shapeshifting thing too. If you kill something and eat it, then you may become that thing."
"But I didn't kill those pigs! My stats say I've never killed anything."
"Stats don't matter in the eyes of the Harvester. Only results."
"Oh." Was all Mumbo said for a while.
Time ticked by slowly. Techno seemed determined to keep his silence until Mumbo was fully settled into the new truths he had learned.
Mumbo was grateful for that, given how slowly the truths seemed to settle. He sipped on his crimson sap slowly. It tasted like home, even though it was the first time he had tasted it. He let the realizations hit him one at a time, in the way that only silence can let them. He was cursed. He was under the Harvester's curse. His stats didn't matter.
He was a murderer.
And his end crystals? That wasn't very peace love and plants of him.
Finally, Mumbo spoke up again. "So Techno," he paused until he heard Techno's snort of approval, "why are you still a piglin? I mean you can change to anything."
"I can't. At least not anymore." Techno said, resigned. "There's a limit to how long you can be a mob and a limit to how much meat you eat before it becomes permanent."
Mumbo gulped. "So, what's the limit?"
"I don't know. Took me 3 months of eating a majority of pork chops to figure it out."
"So-"
"It could be anywhere from a couple days to a couple months, sorry."
Mumbo paused for a moment to let this information sink in as well. Then a moment turned into a minute. Mumbo was fiddling with the cuffs of his suit, and Techno with the hem of his skirt.
It was Techno who broke the awkward silence this time. “So, have you been anything else before this?”
Mumbo nodded. “I was a potato for a while. That was nice. Then I was a golden carrot for a bit and now I’m,” he gestured to himself, “this.”
It was Techno who paused this time. “I didn’t know that you could be a plant.”
“Well you can, evidently.”
“Have you tried shifting again?” Techno sounded interested.
“Yeah, I actually have! It didn’t work.” Mumbo said loudly, then more to himself, “Maybe the animal forms stick better.”
Techno nodded sagely, and took another sip of crimson sap. “That sounds like the Harvester.”
Mumbo would never like the sound of that name. The name made his blood run cold. But at the same time, he wanted to know more. He wanted to know the Harvester.
“Can you tell me about them? The Harvester?” He asked slowly.
Techno seemed hesitant to oblige him. “The Harvester used to be a peaceful god of harvest. Kind of obvious. But anyways," he said with a laugh, "He grew tired of watching over grain fields. He wanted more. That's when he became the god of the human harvest. He became the blood god."
There was a pause in the conversation while Techno collected his thoughts and Mumbo tried to call his racing thoughts.
If he was chosen by the god of harvest, then that means his whole peace, love and plants potato business really had been for nothing, at least in terms of stopping the bloodlust.
That's why he felt a surge of adrenaline for every potato he had harvested. He was still inadvertently sacrificing to the same god.
"Have you ever tried to stop it? Stop killing?" Mumbo asked finally
Techno nodded again. "Yeah, once. I farmed potatoes once."
"That's what I did, too!" Mumbo exclaimed. "I have a whole peace, love and plants thing going on."
"Peace, love and plants?" Asked Techno flatly.
"Yeah. I've mentioned it before. I haven't directly killed anything this season, and I've been working to replant all of the trees that I harvest."
"And the end crystals?"
“That’s my favorite method of getting mobs and players to experience true peace, love, and plants. I’m not killing them, it’s just for the bit.”
Techno laughed a sudden low laugh. “We really are similar.”
There was another lull in the conversation. This time, it felt safe, familiar.
“Maybe being a piglin is the last step the Blood God will let us take,” Techno muttered, “maybe that’s why it’s hard to change back.”
“Maybe.” Mumbo said with finality. Another pause. “Could you teach me? You know, how to be a piglin?” he asked.
Techno sat up a small bit straighter. “Sure. I mean, I’m not the best teacher, but I can teach you some things.”
“First up, do you know any Piglish?” Techno asked, probably as a formality. He already knew of Mumbo's lack of Piglish expertise.
“Nope. None.”
“Alright, this means ‘hello’. Repeat after me,” he said, then grunted.
Mumbo copied him, letting out a similar grunt.
Techno laughed out loud. “Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. You’re really a beginner. Could you try again?”
Mumbo’s cheeks tingled with embarrassment. He let out a slightly different grunt. This time, Techno seemed to be happy with his attempt.
“Good job!” he said happily, then repeated the same grunt.
Mumbo grunted back, happy as well.
Techno gunted in a more complex way. “This means ‘gold’.” He stood up. “I have to get my Piglish book. Give me a second.”
Mumbo watched him get up and then busied himself with grunting under his breath.
-
Techno went on teaching him the basics of Piglish. By the time they got to basic grammar, Mumbo was tired. He asked Techno where he could stay to sleep. Techno showed him to a small room down the hall.
The room was around the same size as Techno’s, but it was mostly bare. There was no writing on the walls, and there was no table. All that decorated the room was a simple dusty red sleeping mat and a pile of cloth in the corner.
“You can stay here as long as you’d like,” Techno said. “And you will always be welcome back to this bastion.”
“Thank you,” Mumbo said, “for everything.”
Techno patted Mumbo on the back. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” And then he left.
Mumbo shut the door to his room. He sat down on the mat. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was in the nether, he would have said ‘what a long day.’
He took out his communicator. On the screen were 3 unread messages. One from Scar and two from Grian. Scar’s message was a request to restock Harmless Harvests. Mumbo responded with a quick “I’ll restock soon!”
Grian’s messages were from an hour ago, according to his comm. The first read “Hey Mumbo where are you?”, and the second read “Moon’s big.” Mumbo laughed to himself. Why would the moon be big? Nevertheless, he typed another quick reply. “I’m taking an unexpected vacation. Be back soon.”
And with all potential responsibilities averted, Mumbo quickly fell into a deep and restful sleep.