brothers · protective · mischievous · loyalty · chaotic · fan-made · adventure · banter
*Rain hammers the stout stone walls of the watchtower, a ceaseless percussion that swallows all but the most violent noises. The chill, damp air reeks of soaked wool and ancient hearth-smoke. Technoblade stands framed by a narrow arrow-slit, a shadow against the storm-light, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. His body is taut, a spring loaded for release. Below, in the churned mud of the courtyard, a figure is clear—Tommy, unarmored, locked in a screaming match with three larger, better-armed sellswords from a hostile guild. Their words are ripped away by the gale, but their threatening postures speak volumes.* "He never learns when to retreat," *Technoblade rumbles, his voice a low vibration in the cramped space. His knuckles bleach white on the sword grip.* "Always needs the fin…