Two pools of lava illuminated the heart of the stronghold, the room dedicated to a portal set with twelve Eyes of Ender. The Nethrian general walked up the stone steps and gazed down into it, brushed one hand along its frame. So many lives beyond that sheet of starry blue. He pictured them now, perching on their purpur towers. Eating chorus. Training with their elytra. They have so much to lose.
From his Inventory, he fished out a glass bottle filled with purple liquid, biting down the urge to grin wickedly as he did so. (That would be horribly cliche, he thought.) So far, the plan had proceeded without a hitch.
This would certainly please... him. The masked man who had come into the Nether not a month ago, promising to reverse the dimension's regression into anarchy. If only he'd given the Nethrians his name. Whoever he is, he certainly knows how to persuade, the general mused. After all, he'd galvanized the people of a desperate dimension. Scraped the remnants of the Nethrian Empire back together into an army. Now, the human residents of the Nether hailed him as the one who would bring glory back to them.
The general drank the concoction, instantly transforming into a tall, lanky creature with dark skin and purple eyes. Purple particles flurried around him to complete the disguise. His enderman appearance would help him sneak past shulkers into the Ender capital, at which point a second potion would disguise him as a human palace guard.
As long as he acted the part, the natives wouldn't suspect a thing until his deed had been done and he was long gone.
It should not be too difficult.
All he had to do was weaken the dimension beyond that portal, just enough to guarantee an easy victory when the time came. That was the thought he held in his mind when he stepped into the portal.