Discontinued Private Eastern Brisshal An Epic Beeventure

[Jefferbee Farmer]

In the forest of Eastern Brisshal, not too terribly far from the village of Honeyhome, a man is stalking around in the bushes. He wears upon him a sash, laden with fresh produce. He carries with him a large bouquet of flowers, the arrangement contains a large variety of rather uncommon flora--this variety of flora would be highly unfitting for his appearance of otherwise being an NPC.

Aside from this strange fellow, the forest is relatively quiet. A cool breeze flows through the forest boughs, softly rustling the leaves. The occasional call of a bird or scurrying of a rodent can be heard. However, there is otherwise an unnatural calm, as if some force is dampening the natural chaos of the wilds.

The man seems to occasionally grab things as he walks the forest; collecting berries, nuts, fallen seeds, mushrooms, and other such likely edible items. It is quite possible that this man lives off of foraging the local wilderness, at least judging by how often he is stopping to grab something or other. Unlike the produce on his sash, he stows away his foraged goods in a small sack--which is visibly made of vines, leaves, and some sort of binding agent.

His voice can be heard, given the quite of the wilderness, as a soft humming; a song just barely over the silence around him, as he merrily continues his wilderness adventure.

@Luthien

 

[Luthien]

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... thuuung!

Out here, surrounded by an unnatural calmness in the forest, the sound travelled further than normally allowed, a soft but constant noise that almost blended into the surroundings after enough time passed.

Thuuung...! Thuuung...!

The sound would continue to echo around the forest at random intervals, and would get stronger if one were to walking towards a nearby clearing... a young looking elf currently busy practicing her shots. The new bow—okay, new to her at least—was held steadily in her hands as Lúthien did her best to remember the lessons the old crafter had imparted on her... as well as very vague memories from an archery class she'd taken during her high school years.

"... fuck, I was sure it'd fly straight this time."

A frown could be found on the ranger's face, her eyes narrowing as if insulted that the arrow in question had deviated away from its path and towards some nearby bushes. Her hand reached for the quiver at her side... before suddenly realizing it was already empty when her fingers grasped air instead of feathered nocks.

"Huh...? Ay, la puta madre... really?"

The sound of a very exasperated sigh rung across the space then, the elf's head tilting backwards for dramatic effect before she finally resigned herself to starting the arduous task of retrieving all the arrows she could find... after all it's not like she had an endless supply of them, and currently Lúthien lacked the funds to be whimsical with their use.

Slowly her quiver begun to fill once more, three retrieved from the tree she'd been using as practice and six more from the ground around it. That just left the final arrow that had veered off into the bushes... but where exactly was the real question.

@Jefferbee Farmer

 

[Jefferbee Farmer]

Where indeed had that arrow gone? Certainly it wouldn't have accidentally struck anything dangerous, that would just be absolutely rotten luck. No, the arrow had found itself ever so barely stuck into a rather fresh onion. Luckily nobody was hurt, but now this onion would have to be eaten sooner, rather than later. If one were the owner of this previously pristine allium root, surely this would have been a true shame. The archer was lucky she had not owned this fine vegetable.

The same could not be said of a certain man, whose delicious produce had been mysteriously punctured by an arrow from unknown origin. It was not cut deep enough that it would spoil if left unattended, but its shelf life was still reduced--it was something to be dealt with, though it could wait a little while. Far more importantly, if some ruffian of ill intent were around, the man may have a harder time achieving his goals. What if whatever archer had just struck his onion, as warning, would prevent him from his search for the most important resource known to man?

"Could I trouble you for assistance?" the man asked of a nearby tree, which proceeded to shift slightly, allowing him to climb it easier. Among the lofty foliage is where the man waited, his experience in life thus-far told him that very few people ever look up.

The forest seemed a little more restless, now that the arrow had become lost and found, as if whatever was dampening it had vanished. It wasn't so much as to become dangerous, but just enough to be palpable.

The insects were more present, the rodents shifted and scurried with more urgency, and the bird calls were just a bit more frequent. The forest felt louder with this return to a normal state, maybe even a little too loud. The creaking of trees could be heard from the direction in which the arrow had flown out of the clearing, a creaking far more present than it aught have been in this gentle breeze.

@Luthien

 

[Luthien]

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"Did I got it back? Uno, dos, tres... nueve— Fuck!"

Nope, one of them was definitely missing... and right now, given her limited funds, they were definitely worth their weight in gold. Still, no matter how much she looked around left and right the arrow had seemingly disappeared into the ether, an exasperated sigh leaving the elven girl as a booted foot kicked a nearby rock in frustration.

"Stupid dumb arrow..." Lúthien huffed, the blonde now deciding to lean against a nearby angled tree as her back pressed against its bark—unaware of the being concealed high above in the branches as her eyes slowly combed the nearby bushes in a last ditched and futile attempt at finding any form of sign concerning her missing arrow. "Can't believe I'd lose one already only hours after that nice old man made them for me..."

The worst part of it? She didn't even lose it fighting off a goblin or a wolf...

@Jefferbee Farmer

 

[Jefferbee Farmer]

What a shame indeed, for the very arrow of which she was seeking was hidden but a mere tree above her head. Surely her shame at losing her arrow, by striking another man's onion, would never be lived down. but most importantly, she would most definitely never find the arrow. How could she? The man was a master of hiding among plants, he would ne-

Timp.

A berry had fallen from the tree above, striking the elf atop the head. In this very moment, the man's heart stopped. How would he escape from this ruffian now? If only he has been careful enough to properly close his Nut, Berry, Mushroom, Root, Seed, & Other Assorted Foraged Goods Bag (NBMRS&OAFGB), maybe the contents of his NBMRS&OAFGB wouldn't have given him away. As it was now, the good farmer would be at the mercy of this potentially very dangerous elf.

Today was the wrong day to look for bees, most assuredly.

Jefferbee did not know how he would survive this moment, he could only pray for a swift death or that the rogue wouldn't find him.

 

[Luthien]

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Lúthien had been about to resign herself to the fate of having one less arrow after her shooting practice, the elf's long ears drooping just slightly at the thought as a sigh escaped her lips, when suddenly she felt a soft object lightly thump against the top of her head before rolling off to the side.

"What the...?"

A hand reflexively reached out, barely catching the small berry, before her eyes narrowed in question... this didn't look like a berry that should be growing on trees, and she certainly hadn't seen any fruiting trees while walking around in the first place. Slowly her head tilted backwards, finally affording a glance at the canopy of the very tree Lúthien had chosen to lean against, before a shocked look crossed the blonde's face upon spotting a figure hiding above.

"Qué carajos...?!" Her voice rose in pitch as she verbally displayed her surprise, before those red eyes narrowed upon seeing a familiar arrow poking out of the pouch the man above was carrying. "Aaah!!! That's my arrow, what are you doing with my arrow?!"

@Jefferbee Farmer

 

[Jefferbee Farmer]

"Oh shit! A Mexican!" the man blurted out, fear in his voice. His tone carried the understanding of one who had once interacted with many a Mexican. He was of course wrong, for that was no Mexican; that was an elf, of which Mexicans are not. It also didn't help that it was a Puerto Rican, which is also not a Mexican.

In any case, as far as the man was concerned, he was now face to face with a Mexican Elven ruffian. He remembered the days of old, back when he still lived in California, and he could only respond in one way. "What am I doing with your arrow? What's your arrow doing in my onion!?" the man shouts down, as he pulls an orb slightly larger than a fist from his bag. The arrow comes out of the bag along with the onion, stuck about .678 inches into the allium's layers.

The man remains in the tree, it does not seem like he intends to not be in the tree any time soon. He is standing rather haphazardly however, just perched up in the boughs, and not really using his arms to help support himself in any way. One might assume he is bound to fall out of the tree any second, but he doesn't seem to.

@Luthien

 

[Luthien]

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"What—cabrón, I'm a Puerto Rican! Get your shit right!"

Why the fucking a u d a c i t y of this NPC-looking player! Her eyes narrow further as the man pulled out the onion in question... to which the tip of her arrow barely looked to be puncturing it. "Yeah, my arrow! My property!" His next accusation leaves the elf flabbergasted, her mouth opening and closing a few times as the blonde was momentarily at a loss for words. In fact Lúthien was pretty sure a well aimed breeze could knock her arrow right off the allium too.

"What are you even talking about... that's barely in there! Just give me back my arrow!"

With a final huff the blonde finally raises a hand, pointing the palm in the direction of the other player before Lúthien summons a gust of wind forth. The intent was, of course, to loosen her arrow and get it back... but if the player fell from the tree as a result of her action the elf wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.

@Jefferbee Farmer

 

[Jefferbee Farmer]

"Barely in there? Barely in there!? That is a solid half a thumb gouged into my once perfectly good produce! Do you even understand how many scales you've damaged?" the man was irate. His onion had been struck, and now this Mexican Elf Puerto Rican was insistent that she was not at fault. That arrow could have killed him, she is lucky it only damaged the fruit of his labors.

As the gust of wind is called forth however, the man is removed from his footing, being forced to sit his ass down on the bough. It is rather strange, as the way he fell made no sense, almost as if the tree caught him while its branch was returning from being pushed by the wind.

"Hey! You could have killed me just now!"

Luckily, while the man is still being a complaining bitch, the arrow was in fact dislodged by the wind, falling to the ground rather ceremoniously.

@Luthien

 

[Luthien]

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"What... who cares?! It's an onion!!!" Was he really this mad because his precious onion had been scratched half an inch?! "It's gonna get knifed later anyways when it gets cooked, so who cares if a tiny bit of an arrow's tip scratched it first?"

By now their voices had probably scared most living and breathing wildlife with a sense of hearing for a good mile radius, if perhaps not more. Not that Lúthien was really thinking about that, the elf instead irked as her gust of wind didn't not deliver the results she had hoped for.

"Hey! You could have killed me just now!"
"Pffft, por favor even an NPC would survive that fall in this game—fuck yeah!"

Her initial disappointment was soon replaced by a delighted squeal as the arrow clattered down and onto the ground, the blonde quickly skipping over to grab it before quickly stashing it away inside the worn leather quiver on her right hip.

@Jefferbee Farmer

 

[Jefferbee Farmer]

The man, jumps down from the tree, using a bush to cushion his fall.

"A knife? For one, a knife and an arrow head are very different, and, secondly, you shouldn't just use any random knife to prepare your vegetabes. Finally, by breaking past its outer leaf, you've reduced the shelf-life by a significant margin. Even more so given it now has mutliple layers exposed. Do you even understand how dry an onion can get, if left in these conditions?"

The man is standing by the time he finishes his little tirade, his artificial eyes staring daggers into the elf. Why was the magia so obsessed with a singular vegetable globe? That would surely be a question of which very few people cared about but which would also be rather difficult to answer.

The man begins withdrawing something from his NBMRS&OAFGB (see post #5) of which the girl had seen him withdraw the onion prior. Perhaps there are also weapons in this bag, though that may also be doubtful from the general shape of it.

@Luthien

 

[Luthien]

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FWOOOMP!

Before Lúthien knew it the man had actually hopped off the tree on his own accord, landing straight into a cluster of bushes that seemed to unnaturally cushion his fall more than the elf thought should be possible. His mouth kept running off even as he dragged his ass off the bushes, a deadpan look given in response by the elf as she couldn't believe that a total stranger was actually lecturing her about anything and everything related to onions in the middle of the forest.

"Okay, so just eat it today then when you make your food. It's not going to taste any different because I accidentally poked it with an arrow a couple of hours prior."

She raised an eyebrow as the Magia reaches for his bag from one side, her frame tensing just slightly as she eyed the man warily... ready to blast him with another gust of air if the taller player actually tried anything funny.

@Jefferbee Farmer

 

[Jefferbee Farmer]

The construct pauses, looking dumbfounded at the woman. "Eat it today? Eat it today!? Today is Lemon Day. How should you expect me to eat an onion on lemon day? I wasn't going to partake of this--previously--fine produce for another two days."

What this magia was going off about could be anyone's guess, the very idea of "Lemon Day" itself possible one of the truly arcane mysteries of this world. While there is certainly an implication that he may be eating solely lemons upon this alien holiday, there is yet to be veritable proof.

After his eldritch utterance of "Lemon Day", he continues as if he hadn't just said something absolutely unhinged. He pulls a pair of wooden gardening shears from his bag, and continues his lecturing while pointing at various features of the tool, "this pair of sheers is specially designed to cut plant matter, unlike your arrowhead. The waves of the blade gives its cuts a margin of error, so as to not cut the cell walls of the crop, thus hastening the death of the plant. A problem which I now must face with trying to keep this onion in good condition. Keep in mind that refrigeration is not an easily accessible solution within this game. My root could be completely inedible by tomorrow."

 

[Luthien]

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"What the fuck is Lemon Day...?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as the Magia spoke, the cogs inside her mind slowly trying to make sense of the words being uttered... though what little logic the elf could find she didn't exactly like. "Who decided—wait, no, ni siquiera voy a preguntar... just eat the damn thing, no one's going to police you over this so called Lemon Day!"

The last mention of this previously unheard of daily festivity, or whatever it truly was, was accompanied by air-quotes as the elf spoke—before she blinked in surprise as a step was taken back, watching as the Magia pulled out a pair of sheers from his bag before continuing into another rambling lecture.

"Dude... it's just a fucking onion." The statement was dropped without hesitation, the blond elf already feeling the faint twitch of her left eyelid as this conversation continued. "Besides, can you even taste onions in the first place?"

In all honesty that was probably the only true crime being committed, Lúthien couldn't imagine a life of eating food and not being able to appreciate the various flavors different produce and spices presented... but as far as she had heard Magia were the one race normally deprived of this out of body experience.

@Jefferbee Farmer

 

[Jefferbee Farmer]

"And what the fuck is Lemon Day? What the fuck is Lemon Day!? How do you think I'm supposed to clean the internals of this mechanical body? If I don't clean this body, I could grow all sorts of disgusting molds or bacterial colonies. It's like brushing your teeth, except I have to rinse my entire digestive tract with citric acid."

The magia seems indignant that the elf couldn't realize the simplicity and importance of the "Lemon Day" concept. As if it should have been immediately obvious the importance of such a ritualistic deep cleaning. Worst of all was the suggestion that he didn't know what his own produce tasted like--this was an insult like no other.

"And how dare you suggest that I don't know what my own crops taste like. Just because magia don't typically taste anything doesn't mean I don't know what my produce tastes like."

The magia's confident claims are of course completely unsupported, but there is a deep passion in his words.

"Just because this body cannot taste, doesn't mean my mind can't."

 

[Luthien]

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"Wait… ¡¿queeé?!" There was a pause, a moment if one would as the blonde looked straight into the blue eyes of the Magia still lecturing her—a dumbfounded look to her face as Lúthien tried to assimilate what she had just heard. "Hold the fuck up… you expect me to believe that Magia need to consume an insane amount of citric acid on a specific day to cleanse your bowel movements?"

When it looked like she had not missed a detail, much to her disbelief, the elf blowed a raspberry with a breath Lúthien hadn’t realized she’d been holding onto until then.

"Yeah, no, fuck outta here… do I look like a five year old to believe all that bullshit?"

The notion of it all was so utterly ridiculous that, for a moment, the blonde had forgotten all about the barely damaged onion that this stranger had been berating her about for the past fifteen or so minutes since they had become aware of the other’s presence.

@Jefferbee Farmer

 

[Jefferbee Farmer]

"I mean, it doesn't have to be a specific day, but getting into routine is good for habit forming. You wouldn't just not brush your teeth, would you? you wouldn't just not eat your daily eight apples, would you? As a magia, I'm not going to just not eat my biweekly bucket of lemons. If you had chosen to be a magia, you would understand just how gross it is to not maintain the ritual of Lemon Day." The man, who still has not been named looks absolutely indignant at this accusation that Lemon Day is not a completely reasonable and understandable concept.

The man, the Jefferebee, the magia, continued to inspect his poor, destroyed, onion. How heartless could this Mexi- Puerto Rican be? In the eyes of a farmer, this woman cared not for the harm to his livelihood that she caused. This was truly a different world, one filled with rude women who would harm one's produce. This day showed him the worst of humanity, or at least that is how it felt to the farmer.

@Luthien

 

[Luthien]

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"I—wait—that's not... okay, stop!"

Already the elf could feel a distinct faint pounding in the sides of her temple, feeling pretty sure that this conversation would lead to one hell of a headache if it continued. Her hands rose in response, making circular rubbing motions against the sides of her forehead in response in a faint attempt to try and prevent said migraine from fully developing.

"Look, whatever, eat a buttload of lemons every other day for all I care." Granted, she wasn't a Magia... but Lúthien was pretty sure that's simply not how things worked for them in the first place. "Point is a tiny little poke isn't going to automatically spoil that onion of yours, whether you eat it today or a couple of days from now won't make a difference."

Honestly, the way he was looking at the onion Lúthien almost expected him to carry a full funeral for the allium.

"... not that you'd even know if you don't have taste buds in the first place."

@Jefferbee Farmer

 

[Jefferbee Farmer]

"I am a farmer! I know the flavor of my produce, how dare you imply I wouldn't. You, ma'am, have been very rude. Not only have you damaged my crop, but you have also refused to take responsibility for your actions."

The magia huffs with pure, unadulterated, annoyance. never in his life had he met someone so utterly belligerent. The simple idea that he, Farmer Robert Brown, could be the one who was being unreasonable couldn't possibly register to him. First this Mexi- Puerto Rican bandit harms his livelihood, then she insults the tired and true ritual of Lemon Day, and now she insults his honor as a farmer.

Worst among all the things she had done though, was that she had distracted him from an Epic Beeventure. How in the world was JefferBEE Farmer supposed to find bumblebees for his eventual greenhouses, if he was stuck lecturing this child on how to properly store her onions?

Further still, this distraction would possibly leave the man without a proper stock of rations, as he was now spending an excessive amount of energy fending off the accusations of this mad woman.

"And look how riled up the forest has become, thanks to you."

 

[Luthien]

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The sheer audacity of this man…!

Not only did he kept complaining about the supposed damage—and alleged heavily quality reduction associated to it—his white onion had received… but he also expected Lúthien to take responsibility for it? "I—what…? It’s a fucking onion and that was barely a flesh wound!!!" The elf couldn’t help the way her eyes narrowed as the Magia then proceeded to try and pin the blame on her too for the way their loud debate might have affected the local fauna nearby, hands balling into tight fists at her side.

"Fine, gimme the damn thing and I’ll show you it’s perfectly edible and fine as it is!"

The hand not holding an arrow reached forwards then, the intent having been to snatch the allium cepa that had barely been injured throughout this series of unfortunate events… before Lúthien’s fingers grasped at nothing but air as the man reacted in time to pull the sweet onion away from the girl’s reach.

@Jefferbee Farmer