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Wither crawled through his veins, infection quickly making its way throughout his body. The wound on his leg was quickly turning black, the blood gushing from it shifting from a sharp red to a dull black. He stared at the wound a moment more, the smell of rotting flesh becoming present.
The wither effect had hit both his legs pretty badly- even the one that was uninjured was left unable to move. He was certain that, were he to remove his boots, his toes were turning a deep gray, black blood rushing to remove him of feeling.
Feeling the wither effect slowly numb you was an odd thing indeed. It started as pain, never ending and never forgiving. Pain that lit up every warning system in your body and a couple more in your code. The sort of pain that made you desperate for relief, even if it came at the hands of Death.
The chill followed. Veins and arteries went achingly cold with every spike of pain. Shivers plagued him, and with every tremble of his limbs, every sharp cold pain that dug through him like swords and teeth, he could feel himself losing his grip.
He'd heard of people going insane with the cold- forgetting where they were and the true temperature of the area. Jumping into pools or oceans of lava in some sorry attempt at feeling warmth again.
After the chill came the numbness.
It was odd, feeling pain and feeling nothing at all at the same time. Phantom pains, they were called, Xisuma had insisted. They existed when your body knew there was pain to feel, but wasn't getting the input.
Well, if it was pain his body was going for, it could be blamed simply on the wither in his bloodstream. He could almost imagine it- the black poison pumping through his veins, eating away at his nervous system until there was nothing.
That's how you knew you were close to death. The smell of infected and rotting flesh was stronger now, and he gagged on it, turning his head away to vomit. Much more black liquid was in the waste than blood or stomach acid.
He groaned softly, turning away the best he could. He shuffled towards the Nether portal, stopping to lean heavily against the frame. His legs dragged behind him like dead weights. He doubted someone would find him- doubted even more that he could survive by himself.
A respawn would be his way out of this.
He swallowed thickly, spit tasting like soot and charcoal. Ashes were beginning to build up in his stomach, his bloodstream, his-
A violent cough followed by ashes sprinkling his sweater told him the wither had hit his lungs. The build-up of soot and smoke was all he could taste, smell, breathe.
He hated dying to wither.
The world began spinning some few minutes later, and he had to curse wither for being such a slow way to die. The smell of rotting skin and muscle was overwhelming now, even though only the wound on his leg had turned completely black. His fingertips were beginning to turn a smokey gray, and black lines ran though his body- veins of poison delivering fate to him.
The burning in his lungs had stopped being painful. The chill that had swept through him earlier- tearing him of his nerves- had reached his lungs as well. Slowly, the world began fading away as his lungs ceased working all together.
The lack of oxygen sent adrenaline through him- or it would've, if the nerves he was missing had given the message to the brain. Still, it forced lungs to work again, despite being unfeeling.
The ashes and shoot were far from the only thing the wither effect had infected him with. There was of course the crystalizing charcoal, the growing of netherwart, the beginnings of quartz and netherrack that was slowly starting to form on his body- sprouting from the wound like fire jumping from the lava. It was uncomfortable, but painless thanks to his new lack of a nervous system.
His breathing was shallow- the sharp discomfort told him more than ashes filled his lungs now. The nether itself was filling his bloodstream, everything from quartz to netherwart taking over his dying body.
Distantly, under the rushing in his ears, he could hear the gentle vwoomp of the portal- making noises he could only describe as the auditory version of swirls. And then- further under that- the muffled sound of talking. Someone on the other side of the portal, coming closer.
He closed his eyes. How unfortunate they should find him like this- too far gone for even potions or milk. Nether sprouting on his body, skin turning black. The Hermit would never unsee it- his body not yet disappeared, one of the worst ways to go etched across it.
The voice drew closer to the portal, and he could make out his name, garbled and muffled as it was.
He called out, broken and confused, "...hello? In here!"
His mouth tasted like lava. Like smoke and ashes and soot and netherwart and coal and pain and lost and where am I? and please help me and I don't want to die and-
The world around him was beginning to go dark. That probably wasn't good, was it? The beginnings of nether was growing over his eyes, crystalized quartz and coal sparkling as they attached to his skin and took root. It should've hurt, but there was no nerves to tell him so.
He blinked twice before the nether managed to prevent it. Now his eyes were stuck open, staring blankly ahead as nether filled his vision. The portal grew louder. Someone was coming.
"Grian, what are you- Oh my word!"
Opening his mouth told Grian there was blood dripping down from it and onto his chin. The odds that the blood was black were higher than he wanted to admit, given the fact that his glimpse of Mumbo was cut short by his eyes being completely shut and grown over.
"Grian, I don't- I can't..."
Mumbo couldn't help. It was too late for milk or potions- if Mumbo even had either. Grian knew this, smiling best his could at Mumbo. He nodded softly, and he could feel crystals scraping against the portal frame. They'd begin growing from his spine. He was running out of time.
"'s'okay.." Grian slurred, voice heavy with blood and ash and nether and pain that should be there but wasn't. "...'s'okay.."
The wound on his leg had lost all feeling by the time Mumbo had slowly set a hand on it. Wither wasn't exactly contagious, so after seeing it hurt Grian none, he examined the wound.
He let out a hiss of sympathy, "This cut is... well, it's pretty deep Grian. You've got wither to your bone, it's- it's turning black.."
There were unspoken sorrows in Mumbo's voice. The wounded leg wouldn't heal completely with the respawn. If Grian's bone was withered, too... It could be weeks before he walked on the leg again. And if he reinjured the leg too soon, the wither would return to his veins and onset the beginnings of a new torturous death.
He nodded again, feeling the world begin to slip away. The wither must've finally reached its targets. If Grian was right, the nether was beginning to grow on his heart, his brain.
"M'mbo-" he choked out a mumble of his friend's name, his wings twitching under the added weight of quartz feathers, netherrack bones, and netherwart muscles. The withered blood didn't help, either.
"I'm here, G." There was heavy concern in Mumbo's voice. Pain in a way that meant Mumbo knew what Grian knew. Death was the only way out of this one. It wouldn't be a pretty sight, and respawns were bad enough without wither being the one to kill you.
"...mee' me there? 't sp'wn?" It was heard to think. Hard to breathe. Hard to remember anything but numb and chill running through his veins. What was pain, again?
"Of course. I'll be- I'll be right there, okay? It might take me a minute to fly there but- yeah, man I'll be there."
"...'kay. th'nks.."
"Of course, Grian."
Dying was bad enough- disorienting and nerve-wracking. Dying badly was worse- slow and painful deaths that looped on repeat in your head as you lay in your bed; unwilling to move for fear of the outside world.
Dying and not being able to walk upon your return?
Grian needed someone to be with him.
Mumbo understood, already slipping on the straps of his elytra to make the short distance to Grian's base. Grian nodded again before slumping, energy fading quickly away now that he had heard Mumbo answer.
Mumbo turned away slightly, wincing sharply at the sound of quartz shattering. When he looked back, Grian was motionless, quartz wings broken completely as they became to heavy to hold. Grian wasn't breathing, and if the coal beginning to form over his chest- right where his heart was- meant anything, then the wither effect had finally forced Grian to succumb.
The body was already fading, becoming a part of the Universe itself. Mumbo had a promise to keep, and he felt dirty staying here to pick up the XP from a suffering friend.
He hopped though the portal, barely giving himself time to get used to the new angle before taking off to the sky. Mumbo winced at the thought of Grian's death and the image of the avian curled up in bed, terrified of everything.
He flew a little faster, emptying firework rockets in a Grian-esque fashion.
Mumbo didn't glance at the chat going wild when he finally saw Grian, sitting up in bed and staring straight forward. His leg was lying in front of him, refusing to work.
Mumbo felt a brief flash of guilt at seeing Grian like this, silent and still. The image of a withered Grian crept, unbidden, through his mind until the thought that this was his fault wormed its way into making sense.
He thought of Grian, eyes grown over and black blood dripping down his chin, and how he'd had nothing to help. Nothing to save his friend with as he watched helplessly as-
[Grian withered away]