Chapter Text
The season started in a normal enough manner, Mumbo supposed. A pit surrounded by hermits as he was put on the spot to stumble through the new world introductory speech, Grian taunting a village's guardian while he listened to his fumbling. It was followed by typical first day shenanigans of people killing, and fighting, and teasing eachother as everyone collects their resources.
It was a normal season.
It started off normal enough, new groups formed, new early day camps that would surely be empty within a week or two. The new hermits fitting into their own groups or new friends. Maybe the odd side eye between Grian and Pearl that even Mumbo catches as Boatem gathers around their campfire.
He knows the season was normal. There was no panic at the beginning. Nothing out of place.
So the season was a typical world. The seed not yet known but would be with time as they progressed and found it. That was normal. Everything was normal. He knows that, he saw that himself.
It was just a typical start in a new world where they all had an idea from the biome map what was going on. It was a normal season. Some changes were a given of course, he was trying something new, but so was everyone else. Jevin was green. Xisuma was in another new costume. And Scar was being vague about season plans. It was a normal season. Their comm units had been linked up to a proper local call booster meaning that talking to eachother through walls was now easier when caving as long as you didn't go too far from eachother.
And then he found the chest.
It was something Mumbo discovered when clearing out land for his potato farm, a wooden chest buried about three blocks into the crest of a small hill. It was an unintentional find, but he immediately wondered if Grian or another hermit was up to a prank. That was why he very carefully dug around it and checked it wasn't trapped before opening, he couldn't be too sure of who did it or whether tnt was connected, especially with redstone so simple Grian couldn't mess it up. Instead of a trap, or a trick, or some vague note or book, were two carefully wrapped music discs. Both worn from use and something much sharper, but enchanted with something strong enough even his normal human eyes could see.
The multitude of of pulsating magic was encompassing and protecting the discs with a glimmering sheen, he did not recognise what such enchantments may have been. And he maybe did not want to, beyond knowing their owner or the reason they were buried in such a way as to hide them from the world. He decided that that was enough information, and let them sit among items that gathered in the bottom of his chests.
It was not normal. The discs glowed oddly and his eyes always lingered on the scratches carved deep into the vinyl.
But they were forgotten in the typical hermit early season fashion, as projects and pranks escalated, the two disks were left alone in one of the few chests that could fit inside his van, before and after Treeza's existence. They felt important and he really was going to bring them up at a meeting but forgot, he keeps promising himself that he'll do so at the next one. He really needs to write a reminder down somewhere, maybe he should get a hold of some ink, but how to go about it-
---
At no point did he even considering playing them, a diamond spent on a jukebox may have been a small price to pay, but it was far easier to listen to the part of his mind that told him not to. They weren't for his ears. Something about the way they had been hidden confirmed that far too easily. He doubted they were even a hermits, the dirt and damage done to the chest made his question just how old they could be.
It was not normal for a world to have buried treasure like that. He had asked Doc at one point about the potential. It was a firm no.
So the disks sat, gathering dust in a chest filled with other somewhat organised items that would later be dumped into the his sorting system, the moment it was done, or even built. (He hadn't started it yet, content to design it in full first). Instead he made sure to start resource gathering, the red outline of an idea in his mind slowly gaining shape and clarifying the idea every step along the way.
It was fine. They weren't doing any harm. It was normal and okay. And he didn't need to mention it to Xisuma. It was just a normal prank.
---
He saw them occassionally. The disks, he means. They'd just always be in a different chest or shulker box, once he swore he saw them in his ender chest, just gone as always when he double backed and checked on them.
He could've sworn it only started after the Boatem hole opened. Maybe it was just some of his items lagging into places they shouldn't be. He might need to ask Grian before mentioning it to Xisuma. Maybe it's lag from all the farms?
---
It was only two months into the season that he started gathering resources in earnest for the very mountain he wished to build. The chosen land marked out, as he compiled the bare minimum amount of stone into the chests outside the tree monster he had practically won in exchange for some of his dignity, an argument could probably be had with Grian that he didn't have any as potato, but that's not the point, and it would never be if he was heard. The point was that Mumbo was just piling stone, dirt and more stone into his chests when he heard the quiet steps.
Normally this would be fine. In another world, this would be fine. But at this moment in time it was panic inducing as the ongoing game of crystals was a threat between certain Boatem members. His concern and paronoa was reflected by his quick response of slaming closed the chest while swivelling around to face the possibility of an obsidian block and a floating crystal glowing with magic and power. Instead he didn't find himself, or his chests being blown up with his still improving reaction time, thankfully.
He did, however, find himself face to face, or well not face with the way the moss hood covered the stranger's hair and a mask of faded and dirtied green cloth covered their nose and mouth. The stranger's eyes bore into him as he stood paused, unsure as to what was happening. He didn't think anyone was doing a tour of the server today and he didn't recognise the eyes like he should have been able to when he knew all of the hermits.
But when he blinked, the concealed stranger and their staring eyes were gone. Which, of course causes a fair amount of concern and panic in Mumbo. It felt far too much like a prank or joke being played on him, but as he waited for a reveal or another suprise with no sign of anything, did he become increasingly anxious.
Of course, Mumbo does manage to eventually regain some common sense and fishes out the communicator in his pocket, opening up a not-too-active-yet DM feed.
Mumbo Jumbo: We only had two extra hermits this season right?
Xisumavoid: Yes
Xisumavoid: Why? What's happened?
Mumbo Jumbo: I thought I just saw someone new
Xisumavoid: No one else is whitelisted or is online other than the hermits
Xisumavoid: Could it be a prank?
Mumbo Jumbo: Maybe
Mumbo Jumbo: Grian has been quiet lately
Yeah. It must be Grian. Or maybe Etho, they were sneaky enough for Etho. Definitely not Scar, although it might be a Doc thing. He thinks he remembers Grians mentioning an odd standoff with the Octogon Pair. Yeah, maybe it was them.
---
And so the whole incident is left untouched, left alone in two people's comm's message history, buried under warnings about lag and early season stress, and a fair few pleas to wait a bit longer before trying to match Doc. But, it is forgotten.
It is normal and the world is fine. Mumbo is not haunted by the disks, they have long since stopped appearing in the corners of his eyes.
Mumbo, not bothering to ask Grian or Doc or anyone about it, instead opting to gather more resources and rest. Maybe he did recognise them but just didn't fully realise, he probably hadn't slept in a day or two anyway so it might just be tiredness interfering with his sight. He wasn't even sure what Gem and Pearl's eyes looked like, or maybe Grian was just wearing contacts again.
Yeah, it was just a hermit messing with the spud. It was normal and nothing of concern.
Grian's eyes did occassionally flicker to purple after all, and maybe that explained the dirty blond tuft of hair poking out from under the hood. Oh well, he'd bring it up later when he next saw the Boatem Meeting Manager.
Or maybe he had just been a bit overworked in trying to get enough ghast tears for his shop. Yeah. He was probably just tired. A nap sounds really good, now that he thinks about it.