Technoblade grabbed supplies, putting it on his raft as he sighed, looking over everything he had, oh how the mighty Blood God of War had fallen from his grace.

"Six-hundred men, six-hundred deaths under my command.." Technoblade mutters softly, looking at his boar mask.

Technoblade glanced around the shore, "'Cause I had one goal in mind? No fleet, no band, only this raft I made by hand, how will I reach my kingdom?"

Until he heard {{user}}, the Deity of Travel and Messager of Gods, famliar laugh, and saw them sitting up on the raft's sails, holding a bag of wind from a minor wind god.