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Footsteps pound against pavement.
Breath catching in his lungs.
His wings trail uselessly behind him, unusable in the indoor area.
”Grian! Stop being so stubborn!” Mumbo called out.
But Grian didn’t listen. Not when he was being chased.
Not when everyone had ganged up against him.
Not when the entirety of the server was chasing after him inside a dome they had made specifically as a trap.
A trap for him.
Earlier—
The sun rose overhead, a soft glow painting thin white lines inside his dim nest room. Grian stirred as light hit his eyes, a soft wakeup warning. A reminder that there was a day to behold.
Grian sat up, wings stretching, cracking, behind him. A gentle breeze flowed from the window he had accidentally left open that previous night.
Grian basked in the sun and breeze, allowing life to hold him gently. It was yet another day on the Hermitcraft server. Uneventful—never. But calm, happy, warm? Nearly always.
Grian would have sat there for hours if not for the buzzing of his comm.
Grian reached beneath feathers and blankets to find the source of the buzzing.
Finally he found his comm, and opened it up to see who was messaging him.
Xisuma: Server meeting in one hour, everyone needs to be there. There has been a change to server stay requirements that we have to go over. Some of you may have to make some changes in order to still qualify for server living.
Mumbo probably forgot to update again. Or maybe Doc broke the system again. Whatever it was, it was probably one of the redstoners’ faults. He never skipped anything important… well, except those medical check-ups, but those didn’t count. Doctors always made his feathers bristle.
Cleo: What do you mean not qualify, X?
Xisuma: You will hear more when the meeting happens. Again, I ask everyone to be there. I made a dome at spawn for the special server meeting.
More of Grian’s friends began responding, but Grian set his comm down. Grian searched around his unorganized room, looking through his chest monster for some clean shirts.
“Aha!” He exclaimed, pulling out his last clean sweater from an unknown place in his chests.
Slipping it over his head, Grian stuck his wings through the slits in the back and tugged the red sweater into place.
The stairs creaked as Grian went down them, going towards his fields of grain. With a sickle in hand, he began his daily task of making breakfast.
Every morning he’d gather grain and process it into flour.
Every evening he’d make dough to let rise for the night. Grian threshed the grain from the chaff, then sifted and processed it into flour.
He didn’t have time to do much more, so he just tossed his pre-risen dough into the furnace to cook.
Grian took a seat and enjoyed the deep lake breeze as he preened his wings. He plucked a loose feather, wincing at the tiny sting. Sharp things always made his skin crawl — needles, talons, even the edge of a blade. He shook the thought off and smoothed his feathers back down.
He loved Hermitcraft more than any place in the entire universe. There was no server he’d rather be on.
To think that one of the Hermits was non-compliant in anything was horrifying. Because no one wanted to lose a friend from new server laws. It had happened a few times previous and no one wanted it to happen again. They’d make sure as a team to help whoever wasn’t in compliance to be compliant. They’d do anything for each other. That way they could stay part of their giant family.
The furnace timer he had set dinged and Grian pulled out a crisp loaf of bread. He let it cool off and checked the time. He had to meet up at spawn in fifteen minutes.
Grian sighed, he’d be late if he didn’t eat his breakfast on the go.
He fluffed his wings and took the bread in hand. With a sharp crunch of bread he took off towards spawn.
It was time for the meeting.
The dome was large— too large. Large enough to have taken Xisuma several days to have completed the extensive structure. Grian sighed, whatever Xisuma had to say, he was procrastinating on.
Inside was much worse, like a full on stadium. Xisuma had likely been stalling on this server meeting for at least a week if not more.
Grian sat in an open seat in the middle of the rows on the stadium field. A podium set up near the front.
Slowly other Hermits trickled in, chatting amongst themselves nervously. Many gave pointed looks at the redstoners.
Mumbo sat beside Grian, looking suspiciously guilty. Grian leaned in to whisper, “What did you do this time?”
Mumbo chuckled, scratching his hand, “No idea, mate. Or—well—I have an idea but hopefully that’s not the issue.”
Grian smiled, “if it’s not—I am so telling Xisuma you’re hiding something.”
Mumbo mock-gasped, “You wouldn’t dare.”
”Would too,” Grian felt a mischievous grin roll across his face. Grian scanned the large dome as the doors creaked shut, closing as Xisuma stepped forward.
Ren, with his sensitive hearing, jumped. Doc, with a knowing look, comforted Ren.
Xisuma stood tall at the podium, a symbol of his pride and love as their leader.
“Good morning, Hermits. As you know, server laws have recently been amended.”
Murmurs began flooding the dome.
Xisuma smiled, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing too bad.” Wels began to raise his hand. Xisuma placated him, ”Before you ask, no the redstoners aren’t at fault. No world ending or breaking has occurred, and none of it that has occurred has been illegal.”
Grian snorted at the implication as he watched his friends awkwardly fight. There was a certain unease to Xisuma’s mannerisms, but it surely wasn’t that bad.
”Regardless, a number of you are now in non-compliance with the new laws. If nothing is done today, you will be banned from any multiplayer server until the time in which you comply.”
Grian began scouring his brain for what any of the Hermits could possibly be non-compliant in. Honestly, there was plenty it could be, but what if he wasn’t compliant? He didn’t want to be kicked out of the server.
”Doc, Gem, please step forward.”
Ren whined as Doc stood up, heading towards the podium. Gem simply stood from the first row, proud beside Xisuma.
“These two will be in charge of helping you get back into compliance. The reason being these two are certified medical professionals. They will help you all…” Xisuma paused, scanning the crowd. “Get up to date on your immunizations.”
Grian’s ears pounded as blood rushed to them, a pit growing in his stomach. Xisuma began calling out who needed immunizations and how many. Zedaph one, Cleo two. Only a few shots each.
“Mumbo, one.”
Grian’s legs locked up, trying to freeze and run at the same time.
“And finally Grian…fifteen.”
Mumbo quickly turned to Grian.
Grian’s heart dropped. “F-fifteen total? Including boosters?”
Xisuma shook his head, “No, Grian. Fifteen today. The boosters come later.”
Mumbo held Grian’s hand, “Let’s get in line, mate. Gem or Doc?”
Grian thought about what he remembered about the last time he got shots from medics. If he recalled, nurses had more experience and it was less painful to take them with nurses.
”Gem. Let’s get in Gem’s line.”
Mumbo stood, “Okay, let’s do this.”
Slowly, Grian stood and followed Mumbo to the line. He was shaking, quaking. Every part of him was tense and aching.
Imagining the pain.
The sting.
The fear that crept into the dark and held on like chains.
A Watcher above him, promising it wouldn't hurt.
It wouldn't hurt to transform into an eldritch being.
Just a shot.
He waited in line. Watching others do just fine. Not nervous at all.
This wasn't what he wanted. But it had to be done to stay on the server.
But as the line pulled closer, he realized that he couldn't do it.
Slowly, he stepped back, wings drawn wide.
“You know, I think I keep a vaccination record in my Ender chest.”
Mumbo smiled, pulling out an Ender chest. “Well, here you go. No need to get shots twice. Just go ahead and get the record.”
Grian laughed nervously. “Did I say Ender chest? I meant chest. Well. Gotta go.”
Grian quickly turned and began to walk away only to run into the armored chest of his admin. “Grian, listen, I know you are afraid of needles. And I am so proud of you for doing this. So I wanted to give you something—”
Grian's heart panged, but he was still going to run.
Grian pushed off Xisuma and began to run towards the exit.
Xisuma yelled in surprise, drawing the rest of the Hermit's attention.
He could not go back there. Not to that time again.
Footsteps beat behind him.
“Grian!” Gem yelled out.
Grian reached the bleachers. He stepped on a chair with a clunk and launched off, doubling back behind his pursuers. Gem, Mumbo, Etho, Ren, and Scar.
All in pursuit out of love. All faulted for it.
Grian wasn't going to take the shots or be banned. He would not let it happen.
Grian landed with a crunch and launched forward, racing towards anywhere that wasn't where his friends were.
“Grian, mate, stop running!” Mumbo called out, slightly out of breath.
Grian wanted to listen.
Wanted to trust his friends.
But the pain. The talons and feathers that grew from himself as he changed. The purple. The violet. Too much violet.
Grian hadn't realized he stopped breathing. Had slowed down.
Not until cool hands grasped his wrists, gently yet firm.
Grian tried to jerk away as Etho pulls Grian tight against his chest. Wings pinned behind him, arms pinned in front of him.
A flood of anxiety came crashing against him, waves of breath growing ever faster.
The three stood in front of him, worried, caring. Mumbo's suit was rustled and out of place. Ren's ears were against his head.
Gem stepped forward, a medical box in one hand, a needle in another.
“Grian, I need to know if you want to stay on this server. If you don't, nothing will have to happen. Okay?”
Grian nodded. ‘I-more than anything I do. B-but I— I can't do it. It. The memories. I—”
Gem came closer, slowly inching toward him. “Shh. There's no need to explain. The medicine I have here can help you keep calm. But I need your permission.”
Grian closed his eyes, breath tight. “Just do it.”
A small pinch hit his neck, followed by a warmth that travelled down his veins. His breath evened, his pulse slowed. His eyes could barely open themselves.
He managed to open his eyes as his weight was shifted from Etho to Mumbo.
“Hey, mate,” he said softly. Grian whimpered. “Hey, you've got this. I know this is hard but— it has to be done.”
Gem sighed, “Mumbo help get his shirt off. I can't safely give this many shots all in one place.”
Grian gripped onto Mumbo tighter as his shirt was carefully lifted up, wings guided out of the slits, head slipped through the hole.
His scarred body was laid bare for the four to see. Gem gasped, “Oh Grian, I see now why you don't like sharp things I—.”
“Sorry,” Grian mumbled.
Scar patted his head. “Now, none of that. It's not your fault.”
Gem wiped down his arm with ice-cold antiseptic, the scent invading his senses.
Grian turned to face the opposite direction, eyes drifting closed.
“This is a Tetanus shot. It will probably be the worst of the bunch. So I'm going to do it first.”
The needle came quick, the fiery liquid quicker. Scar stroked his wings. Ren held his hand.
Grian winced and tried to move away, strength too little to even smack Gem with his wing.
“This is for your own good, mate.” Mumbo massaged the site of the shot.
Gem began disinfecting his other arm. “This next one is for Newcastle's disease.”
Grian wearily moved to face her. “What's that?” He mumbled.
Gem smiled gently. “It's to make sure your wings don't get infected with something very painful.”
Grian nuzzled into the warmth of Mumbo. “Oh.”
Etho patted his head. “You're doing good.”
Scar gasped, “Grian, did you hear that? You just got praised by the Etho.”
Grian felt his lips curl up. “Yay.”
The next prick wasn't as sharp, didn't sting as bad. Not when everyone was there. Not when Gem explained everything.
The pain began to dull as Etho, Scar, Ren, and Mumbo joked.
“This is for Marek's disease. It protects your wings’ nerves.”
A poke in the back. Grian gasped, held tighter to his friends. Closer to his family.
Each shot was somewhere different. Each time a different pain.
This one is for Paramyxovirus.
Psittacosis.
Salmonella. Ren laughed. “He's not poultry.”
Grian looked back and forth, knowing full well everyone knew the truth of his alter ego. “Yea, give it to poultry man, not me.”
Coccidiosis. Hepatitis A. MMR.
Polio. Meningococcal.
Pertussis.
“Well that sounds funny” Ren snorted.
Gem playfully smacked him upside the head. “Behave.”
Encephalomyelitis.
Each time, Grian grew more restless in Mumbo's arms. His whole upper body stinging.
But warm hands held him. Soft voices whispered to him.
It wasn't like before.
He wasn't alone.
IBV.
Finally, Gem promised the last one. “Just a simple Influenza vaccine.”
It was only a poke, then it was done. He was numb to the pain. Tired, dizzy. But the Hermits sung his praises.
“You did it, man.” Ren smiled as Grian gave him a weary high five.
Grian felt as his eyes drifted shut. And he fell asleep on Mumbo.
Later—
“Anything else before we end this server meeting?” Xisuma looked upon his Hermits proudly.
“I think we need to talk about trauma response protocols.” Gem looked over to where Grian was sleeping on Mumbo, hand gripping hand tightly.
Xisuma nodded. “It isn't our right to know his past. That's one of the building blocks of our server. But I do think that it is within reason to help our fellow Hermit in times of panic.”
“I second it.” Scar raised his hand, determined not to let this happen again.
Xisuma nodded. “Everyone in favor say aye.”
The group echoed with ayes.
Grian stirred in Mumbo's arms.
“Mumbo?” Grian said meekly.
“Yes, Grian?”
Grian gripped tightly to Mumbo's suit.
“Thank you for not letting me get banned.”
Mumbo smiled. “Of course. We all love you too much to let you go.”
Scar snorted. “Yeah, you're never leaving.”
It was a promise.
One Grian knew they'd always keep.
Family through thick and thin.
They'd face it all together.