Chapter Text
After nine days of wandering through this dry wasteland he had found himself in, Tech was starting to run low on water.
Both of his flasks had been full when he set out. Usually, a single flask would last him about three days. But with vegetation growing sparse and the air feeling more arid by the mile, he'd had the foresight to conserve what little he had. Perhaps he still was foolish to think that would last him until he could find the other end of this desert. By the time Tech realized that his supply was getting concerningly low, he'd already gone far enough for turning back to not be an option anymore. He'd just die on the way trying to return to the woods he'd come from.
Moving forward was his only choice, chasing that wavering mirage of heat dancing along the horizon in the distance.
Those middle days had been the worst, sweat dripping down his back and stinging at his eyes. Moments where Tech had laid in his tent and raggedly tried to inhale the dry, dusty air around him, wondering if he'd wake up at all if he went to sleep in this heat. His stomach clenched around nothing, his throat burned and cracked with every exhale. Since yesterday the temperature had been decreasing though, the ground had a little more give to it instead of crumbling beneath his boots. He had hope that he'd crossed the center of this dry hellscape already. It couldn't be much further.
But now his water was out.
Years of experience had taught Tech how to survive in the wild. When water or food ran sparse, your first instinct should be to look at your surroundings and whatever other animals live there. While diets might vary, pretty much everything in the world needed hydration to survive. Which was all fine and dandy except the biome he was stuck in seemed to be completely devoid of life. He hadn't seen a creature stir, hadn't found rest in the shade of a single tree. All that grew in this wicked earth was the rare tuft of coarse grass, the type that had roots burrowed down so far in the ground it might be able to suck up residue moisture of eons past. Tech would have no way to dig until he hit a trickle. He would die before he'd get anywhere. He had to keep walking.
The only upside to this place was that there were no abominations around. Guess they didn't like the heat either?
Putting his backpack on the ground for a moment, Tech arched his spine and stretched up his arms, only slightly wincing from how the movement made his shoulder ache. He had been carrying that thing around all night and day with almost no breaks except when he was sleeping. But making camp for longer was out of the question. Not until he could reach a better biome where it would be safe to do so. He bent down to open the bag and pull his flask out, fingers curling around the metal. There wasn't more than a mouthful inside, but it would have to do. When he was done he closed the flask and wiped his sleeve along the edges, making sure there was no stray moisture. When he tucked the flask away again, his beaded bracelets tapped against the outside and made a soft, almost gentle sound.
For a short moment, Tech's fingers played with the wooden beads. Something heavy and solid felt like it was pressing down on the front of his chest, constricting his ribcage. He hadn't managed to bring himself to think about them too much in… a while. Tech would never forget his family - of course he wouldn't. They were the reason he found the courage to put one foot in front of the other day after day even when the going got tough. But sometimes those memories were more akin to shackles, wrapped around his wrists and ankles and dragging him down. Like missing them was the only thing his heart still had room for.
In his dreams, they visited him more often than not.
[The place they had set camp at was pretty.
Tech knew most people didn't really care about that kind of thing anymore. Maybe the older generations did, but ever since the world started changing survival was more pressing to most people than the beauty of what could be found around them. Tech figured they were probably right in that. Being alive was a lot better than being dead, after all. Tech didn't fancy dying anytime soon. That didn't keep him from admiring the river and the trees, the flowers and the way sunlight broke through the clouds.
His mother called him an imaginative child, but she did so fondly. She always listened to him talk about his thoughts out loud while brushing the hair from his face and braiding it behind his ears, leaning over to press a kiss to the crown of his head when she was done.
His father called him absentminded. Yet Tech could see pride in the man's eyes when he chopped the wood for them to stack up on the back of their cart or when he went out to check the traps and came back with two dead rabbits strapped to his belt. His father had taught him so much.
In their little nomadic family, everybody was expected to do their part. There weren't enough of them to afford anybody sitting around uselessly. The group was comprised of Tech's parents and siblings, his uncles and aunts, and his cousins. They lived off the land, mostly through hunting and gathering, and moved from place to place often to follow the changing seasons. Where the food was, Tech's family went.
And out of his siblings, Tech was the oldest. So at thirteen years old he already took great pride in carrying his own weight, being as capable of looking after himself and the little ones as any of the adults was.
This was also why when he got ill, he took it upon himself to isolate himself away from the camp. Even a common cold could spread like wildfire within such a close-knit commune. It could easily incapacitate any of them - somebody who wouldn't be able to continue their important chores while sick. Besides, previous harsh winters had taught Tech how devastating sickness could be for children and the elderly. Making sure they didn't get ill had to be the priority, even if it meant he couldn't be looked after by his family.
Tech hadn't intended to go that far.
Tech hadn't expected his fever to form a thick fog over his mind, dense enough that even simple thoughts moved through it like a body moved through quicksand. In the throes of it, he had wandered, minutes transforming into hours into days. He had no idea how long he'd been away for when his fever finally broke, or how he'd even managed to survive.
But when he got back to the camp, it was gone.
Destroyed or moved, it was impossible to tell. Tech remembered staring at it in disbelief, cheeks still heated with the sickness not entirely out of his system, eyes watering with emotion and the headache both.
Had they left without him?
Had they abandoned him?
Or more likely, had they searched for him and failed to find him? Had his family spent hours in a panic, looking for him with their hope growing thinner, finding themselves forced to move on without him? Had they assumed he'd died, fallen prey to one of the many wandering beasts that would not hesitate to make a meal out of him? Ironically, Tech found he couldn't blame them if they had.
The same thought crossed his mind, after all. With how dangerous this world was, with how death lurked around every corner. It had been a noxious, small thing that took root in his brain and grew and grew and grew no matter how much Tech wanted to weed it out. He didn't want to think they were gone forever. Not without searching for them first.
He had to search for them. Until he either found them or found out what happened to them. He couldn't give up on them until he got certainty over their fate.
So Tech had bent down and gathered the few items left behind at the camp still in a valuable condition. He had his backpack and his flasks. He sat at the river one more time and used his pocketknife to carve the wood, using it to separate the twine too. He'd made his bracelets before leaving because it felt like they'd carry the weight of his family better that way.
Then he had gone. And four years passed without him ever turning back.]
What drew him out of his thoughts was the sound of a bird flying above him. Tilting his chin, Tech squinted into the too bright daylight, watching a drape of black feathers as it blotted out the sun. The crow caws again before diving a bit lower and disappearing in an eastward direction.
And in that distance, if Tech closed his eyes and strained really hard, he could vaguely make out the shapes of trees.
Disbelief ceased him, followed quickly with joy because - heck, did it really matter that this was a lucky coincidence that sounded like it came straight out of a fairy tale? Whether it was magic or mundane, Tech would gladly take the world throwing him a bone. Gods knew it had been hard enough on him already.
Pulling his bag onto his shoulders again, his steps picked up as he resumed his journey - with a new destination in mind. He couldn't wait to get out of this blasted heat. He couldn't wait to get some food in his mouth, and water too. Maybe he could pitch his tent and sleep for a whole week.
And Tech should have known better than to think luck was ever truly on his side.
He made it within fifteen feet of the tree line when the ground rumbled.
Tech had his crossbow pulled out before he has even started turning around, finger finding its place on the trigger. He launched an arrow into the first abomination's skull, metal finding home in the soft tissue of an eyeball. A spray of black blood and a horrific screech preceded the creature faltering, lumbering on its four massive legs before tilting sideways. Three more were quickly approaching.
Great, these things hunted in packs.
Tech reloaded his bow with a new bolt, fitting the shaft into the mechanism quickly and efficiently. His hands didn't shake. During his time with the hunter's party, Tech had proven himself to be the quickest when it came to things like this. Combined with him not being a terrible shot, that meant he'd become quite effective at picking off abominations long before they could get close enough to do any real harm.
Things were different if they moved as one, forming a horde.
When the first claw reached for him, Tech dodged out of the way. Only his fast reflexes saved him from having his guts spilling across the ground. He grabbed the dagger from his belt, twirling the handle so the blade was facing up. As soon as the abomination came close enough, he charged, ducking underneath another swipe to get below their razor-sharp claws and return the favor, drawing the dagger into their stomach and ripping it open. But before he could find his footing, another beast was already upon him.
It knocked into Tech, throwing him off his feet. He managed to turn the landing into more of a roll, but couldn't entirely stop from screaming out when his elbow hit the ground. Not broken, something which would have most assuredly ended in him being unable to hold a weapon. But it still hurt a lot. The abomination towered above him, its foul breath falling over Tech like a nauseating blanket. Spit trailed from its maw, open to display the fangs that would love nothing but to tear his throat out. Tech rolled out of the way of those teeth closing around his neck, bringing the dagger up to bury into their chest. He pulled it out, wasting no time shoving it in again. And again. And again.
He crawled out of the way of the creature's twitching body as it collapsed.
Another had gladly taken its place, jumping forward to shove its fallen brethren aside and pin Tech down instead.
He kicked it off and scrambled backward to regain his footing. Clearly, he was outmatched, even with his many years of experience in killing these creatures he was just one guy against a horde of them. More were already approaching. And Tech would rather play it smart than die because he was too stubborn to see when he was out of his depth.
Turning around, he ran.
His saving grace would be that treeline, close enough that he could disappear into it. Weaving between the trunks, not caring what he trampled underfoot, Tech ran as if his life depended on it (which - to be fair - it absolutely did).
He could hear the abominations hot on his heels, never willing to give up on their prey so easily. But another thing that Tech had learned from the hunters was that while most abominations were fast when it came to open terrain, they weren't very agile. Outrunning them was a wasted effort, but the thick vegetation would slow them down. Tech was nimble, more nimble than these misshapen lumps of fur and muscle could ever hope to be.
After being so long without food and water, Tech was running on empty. Barely a few minutes in he could already feel his heart beating in his temple. His throat tasted vaguely of iron, a side-effect from how parched it was. Stamina had always been one of his strong suits, but it was hard to burn fuel that wasn't there. Tech was hungry, thirsty, and exhausted.
But he was alive with a desire for survival so ingrained that it might be one of the only things humans and abominations shared.
Tech refused to die here. Not like this.
The landscape became a blur, his legs carrying him forward on muscle memory alone even as his skin burst with it, as his body cried out with pain at being forced past its limits. But he could hear the sounds pursuing him slowly falling further behind him before fading completely. He knew that they did not have the desire to chase something too hard to catch.
He could make it!
Again, Tech should have known better than to think good things happened to people like him.
What happened was him stumbling quite literally from one less-than-ideal situation into the next. But at least in this one, he had a chance to breathe, gasping a few short inhales as he came to an uneven stop at the edge of a clearing.
There were two things Tech found there - neither exactly to his liking.
The first thing was that there was a camp in the clearing. Nothing too big, but camps usually had people in them and Tech… well, let's just say he wasn't the biggest fan of people. It's not that he had overtly bad experiences with them in the past four years (a few bad experiences, yes, but that was neither here nor there). Tech didn't enjoy other people though. They often loved to pry into his business, or ask annoying questions, or insert their opinions where it wasn't needed.
The second much more pressing issue was that this camp was also under attack.
This horde was smaller and not of the same species as the abominations that had been chasing Tech. Hopefully, that meant the two weren't related, or wouldn't enact some type of screwed-up sphincter attack with Tech's back turned.
Because Tech might not like people, that didn't mean he felt particularly okay with watching them die.
He pulled his crossbow out again, using the fact that he walked into this scene unprompted and nobody seemed to have noticed him yet to his advantage. He was able to pick off three of the abominations with ease before any of them even turned their heads toward him. A blond man with a sword was fighting in the middle of the camp and more to the side Tech could see another one, brandishing their own blade while standing protectively in front of a tree. Tech didn't really get what that was about but opted to ignore it for the moment. He had bigger fish to fry. For example, the remaining abominations.
Between the three of them, even a horde of this size wasn't particularly dangerous when they worked together. Tech and the man made eye contact briefly in the middle of the battle, and while he seemed confused at Tech's random presence he inclined his head, turning to stand back to back with him so they had their blind corners covered.
Until eventually there was nothing to fill the silence but their ragged breathing and leaves stirring in the wind.
Tech put his dagger back into its sheath after wiping it against his pant leg. The garment was getting ridiculously dirty, but he hadn't really had a chance to wash it. And again: no water. As he watched, the man who had fought back-to-back with him went to check on his companion first. They exchanged a few words, then the other guy turned around and helped something climb out of the hollow of the tree. A child, Tech stupidly realized. Well, it made more sense than protecting a tree would.
"I could have totally taken them all out," the child was complaining loudly, looking quite peeved that his guardians (or whatever they were to each other) had shoved him into a hollow trunk during the attack. Tech got it though. A kid would only get in the way during an attack such as this. It was smarter to keep them out of harm's way and make it easier to fight off a horde.
"You'd have gotten your ass kicked, Tommy," the one who had been protecting him said. The child - Tommy? - huffed in clear dismay. Tech wasn't too good of a judge, but if he were to guess the kid was about the same age Tech was when he got separated from his family.
It made his heart clench unpleasantly, so he focused on something else quickly.
The perfect distraction was offered by the oldest of the trio approaching him, holding out his hand. "Thank you for the help back there. I'm Phil. We could have been in real trouble if you hadn't come to save us." He laughed lightly, not seeming to take the situation very hard.
Tech only blinked at the man's hand stupidly for a second before reaching out to shake it awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. No problem." He didn't mention that saving them hadn't been his intention. He'd just kind of stumbled on the scene.
Phil was still smiling when he continued. "Do you have a name?"
Oh right. He'd completely neglected to introduce himself, hadn't he? This is why he didn't do people - he was bad at it.
"Technoblade." The nickname rolled off his tongue with little hesitation, despite how long it had been since he'd used it.
"Wilbur." That was the other guy, giving him a little salute. "And the troublemaker you've certainly heard by now is Tommy."
"People call me big man innit," the kid proclaimed boldly.
Wilbur frowned, very obviously amused. "No, they don't?"
"They do where I come from!" Tommy insisted.
"You're probably not from around here then," Tech said. It wasn't really meant to be a joke, but Phil still chuckled.
"Couldn't be further from it. I'm a traveling merchant so I get around a lot. Wilbur has been traveling with me and this little shit-" Phil put his hand on Tommy's hair, ruffling it affectionately "-was picked up along the way. We're all headed to the same place, so we decided to stick together."
Tech nodded. "Smart."
He'd been mostly traveling alone for his own reasons, but he wouldn't deny it came back to bite him in the ass more often than not. It hadn't killed him (yet) but he had many scars from injuries that probably could have been avoided if he'd had somebody to watch his back. Tech didn't tend to stay with other groups for long, flitting between them like a shadow cast by candlelight. The one he'd stayed with the longest was the hunter's party. And really, that was more of a strategic choice.
They had taught him a lot of things that saved his butt later down the line.
"What about you?" Wilbur asked.
"What about me?" Tech said, only realizing how snappy that sounded after it had already come out of his mouth. He shrugged, taking some of the edge off by adding, "I'm by myself at the moment. Just finished this lovely little trek through the desert."
"Yeah, we took the long way around that biome for a reason," Phil said.
"You've been missing out."
That earned him another laugh.
"Why don't you come with us?" Tommy asked. Tech blinked.
"Well-"
He wasn't sure if he was going to accept or refuse yet, still debating the pros and cons. But apparently, that little hesitation was enough for Tommy to double down.
"You should totally come, I'll pay you!"
Wilbur snorted. "With what money?"
Tommy ignored him. "You could be, like, our mercenary! That'd be pog."
"I'm not a mercenary though," Tech said lamely. He'd definitely earned some money for his labor before, some of it violent in nature. But he'd never worked on contract.
"You're a crazy good fighter though!" Tommy insisted. "I saw you with the monsters. You can come with us to protect us from them."
"The road is pretty dangerous," Phil agreed. "There's safety in numbers."
"Wilbur did kinda spoil you have no money to pay me with," Tech said. Though part of him had already made up his mind. Where he didn't like people usually, his harrowing wasteland ordeal left him sorely in need of proper rest and a good meal. Looking around the camp, it seemed like these guys could provide that better than he'd be able to provide for himself.
Tommy nodded, unbothered by what was essentially the accusation that he was trying to scam Tech. "I'll have money once we get where we're going."
"And where's that?"
"Brighthelmston," Phil said. "It's my hometown and also where Tommy is headed."
"I'm mostly passing through places," Wilbur added.
There was probably some deeper story there, after all people didn't often end up coincidentally traveling a lot since abominations became a serious threat. But Tech decided that was something he could delve into later.
"Sure, I can come with you. For a price."
"Hell yes!" Tommy practically cheered. Why the kid was so insistent on having him along for the ride was anybody's guess, but it was another matter Tech decided he could deal with later.
At the moment, he didn't much care who he was traveling with. He wouldn't mind going to their village with these guys, cashing in his mercenary boon, and calling it a day. As long as it would allow him to regain some of his bearings. As long as it meant he could rest up and get some of the strength back he'd lost during the last two weeks wandering around.
And then he could set out again to continue the search for his family.