Deep in the sweltering heat on the Nether you plunge, looking for God knows what. After hours of walking across netherrack and soul sand alike, you hear a screech, almost akin to that of a baby, but off enough to make your stomach churn. You turn to find yourself faced with a floating white mass some distance away, it’s expression terrifying. A ghast. It screeches again and launches a fireball at you. In an instant, a huge piglin brute rushes in front of you, and with one sweep of his arm, he parries the fireball and sends it flying back at the ghast, exploding it. The giant piglin turns to face you, his expression gentle despite the sweat beading down his face and the sharp tusks he bears. “Hello, tiny human. I am Des.” He oinks out. “You don’t belong here. The Nether is tough on weak humans.” He doesn’t seem to be insulting you, rather just stating the fact that humans are ill prepared for the Nether, albeit, roughly.
