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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 19 2014, 07:11 PM (645 Views) | |
| K1ngIsBack | Sep 19 2014, 07:11 PM Post #1 |
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That one King dude
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How I got here Donkey's palms stung. The sore patches were rubbed red, with small fibers of hemp sticking to his sweaty skin. Dead skin was rolled to the sides, having been rubbed off by rope. He fingers were tightly grasped around a thick hempen sinew that was bound to a large wooden platform. His knuckles were white as he hadn't adjusted his hands in ages, and the blood had been displaced. Cold sweat rolled down his cheeks as he trudged onward through the cold desert night. Normally, he wouldn't have the tenacity for such a task. He didn't often get committed to things to such an extent. It had to be something particularly important for a whimsical man such as Donkey to become devoted. Considering the location, Cactus Island, one might assume he had become one of the many obsessed priests who mourned the thousands of graves on the island. His cause was not so noble. It was much bore selfish and base in nature. Following the rope down, roughly 5 feet of cord, to the wooden platform it was dragging, you'd find the 10 foot by 10 foot platform to be completely packed. There were two distinct piles of boxes on the thin base, which had been constructed haphazardly with wooden planks. There was one stack of small green boxes. They were green on both sides, with a white section down the middle. In this white section, frilly text was scrawled fancily across the surface. They read as such, 'Jardeeling Tea'. There were about two hundred of these boxes stacked on top of one another. Inside each box was about 40 small tea bags. Each bag could be brewed precisely 3 times before they needed to be thrown out. There were enough to brew several thousand cups of tea. Donkey really likes tea. This stack set him back quite a pretty penny, but in his mind, it was worth it. On to the other stack of boxes now. As one might expect, it was an equally odd and daunting pile. These ones were pink with several white stripes arcing over the smooth, roundish containers. In a darker velvet colors, there was a blocky label across the box. It read as such, 'Rodi Joca Short Cakes'. In smaller text below this large label, it read, 'Pre-packaged and preserved.' These were incredibly delicious strawberry shortcakes that Donkey had special ordered from a chef he knew. They were all strawberry shortcakes, and they had been specially sealed in small air tight plastic wraps. The pâtissier normally didn't package desserts like this, but Donkey had been insistent. Considering the size of his order, the Chef obliged. There were many more of these boxes than of the tea because these couldn't hold as many cakes per box. In total, there were about 3000 cakes. That sounds like quite a bit, and it is, but these weren't full sized cakes. These were small ones made to be eaten on the go. Surely these would last Donkey quite a while. So why did he have all this tea and cake? Was he throwing a party? Was he delivering it? None of the above. He was heading into the wilderness for awhile to meditate and master his body, and these were his foods/beverages of choice. |
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| K1ngIsBack | Sep 20 2014, 06:41 AM Post #2 |
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That one King dude
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The grooves left in the thin dirt were about a quarter inch deep from the weight of a pallet. The trail Donkey had left could be followed for a mile or so back towards the weird town he had started in. The path was rather unruly, and curved here and there as it went further from the coast. He hadn't been walking in a very straight line despite there being no obstacles. This was mostly due to the weight of what he was dragging. He found himself having to jerk it every now and again to actually get it moving. The thing was pretty heavy, and whenever he hit a rough patch of dirt, or a particularly thick mound, the pallet would wedge right in, and Donkey would have to give it a yank to actually get it moving. He would clench his already battered hands, wrap the cording around his wrists to solidify his grip, then he'd lean forward and force his weight into whatever direction made the board budge. This caused him to change in directions at several different angles hence the odd curves of the path. On the sides of the path around most of these sharp turns were little pockmarks where boxes had fallen to the ground, and left divots because of the angled corners of the containers. Donkey felt his shoulders jerk back as he walked forward. His feet slid a bit on the loose footing provided by the dry ground. One foot slid out from under him, but by bending his other knee a bit, he was able to lower his center of gravity and keep his posture. A small amount of dust was kicked up, and in the mildly windy night, it was carried off in front of him like a ghoulish dark vapor. Light barely managed to flitter through the overbearing clouds above, so the dust cloud left a spooky impression on Donkey. He wasn't scared or anything of the sort. He wasn't really tense either, so it was a bit odd for him to be unnerved by such a nominal event. He couldn't put it into words, the tiny, insignificant event just left his gut churning a bit, and dark thoughts slipped into his mind. It was just the work of a dark night. The darkness can throw off even the bravest of warriors. Cactus island wasn't known for it's dangerous fauna or anything of the like. The island as a whole was pretty damn tame, aside from the occasional outburst from the priests if you desecrated a grave or something grim like that. Actually, now that Donkey thought about it, the mass graves could easily have something to do with the spooky feeling. Shaking his head, he decided to keep on moving. Extending his leg, he stood back up straight and took a small step backwards towards his platform. He then dug his heel in, brought the rope over his shoulder and rested it on his collarbone. Thrusting his chest forward and to the left, he put his weight on the rope. With a small clack, the board manage to slide over a small stone and realign itself. Donkey smiled without looking back. He didn't hear the distinct noise of the boxes falling off which meant he didn't have to waste a minute picking them up. He kind of loathed himself at the moment after about the 20th time he had to stop and pick them up. He really wished he would have had the foresight to bind the boxes to the pallet so he didn't have to worry about them falling at all. Taking a few steps forward, his entire body was jolted to the side a bit as the corner of the pallet caught something and was spun out a bit. Donkey didn't fall, but his stacks did. "Hmmm, shit..." He paused a moment and turned to look. His eyes scanned the scattered boxes. This fall was a little worse and the small tea boxes had tipped over. Only 2-3 of the cake boxes had fallen off. "Shit shit shit." He wasn't too mad, just a little salty at the event. Without blinking, he stooped over and began scooping them up anjd placing them back on the wooden planks. It took about 5 minutes before he could start his journey up again. |
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| K1ngIsBack | Sep 20 2014, 09:57 AM Post #3 |
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That one King dude
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With the pallet in tow, and the sun coming up over the edge of the horizon, Donkey knew it was either time for a break or time to settle down. He had been at his little trek for several hours now, and the night had blown through. He had gotten fairly close to the base of one of the very large, very impressive, and moderately depressing cacti mountains. He had noticed a distinct change in the air as he had gotten closer, and there was some background noise in the distance. It was like a slight vibration in the air, or a purr of sorts. It seemed to get a little bit colder, and he attributed this to the occult. At least, until his brain actually started working. What he had felt may have been the presence of the spirits of the dead causing chills within the living was actually something much more natural, and way less creepy. The rumbling was explained as well. As he had curved around the round trunk of the mountain, he had come upon a small opening with something coming out of it. Rather, the opening was small when compared to the mountain, but the hole was large enough to be called a cave. Green water gushed from the opening and flowed along the ground off into the distance. It was a small stream that had been formed when the mountains cracked. It was rather strange, but enchanting at the same time. Donkey wasn't sure why the water was green, or if it was even water. He simply assumed it was because of the green minerals that composed the mountain itself being diluted into the water. He speculated that it may be copper which becomes green in color when it oxidized but it had been a long time since he was a lad in school, so he figured he could be remembering it wrong. Either way, this seemed as good a place as any to take a breather. Hell, it was a fairly beautiful scene, so he may just plop down here for his training. Pulling his luggage up to a large rock, he coiled the rope and set it aside. He then reached over and opened a cake box, pulling out one of the couple wrapped pastries. His eyes gleamed as he looked at it, a touch of drool sliding down the corner of his chin. He wanted to scarf down the whole thing, bag and all, but he had to stay strong. These cakes were his rations. He needed to eat them to sustain himself, not to sate his sweet tooth desires. Same with his tea. They were off limits until he had settled down and started training. Not a moment sooner. With slow motion, hindered greatly by his obsessive desire to eat what he was holding, he eventually managed to deposit the cake into its original box. His eyes watered, but no tears trickled down his face. Once again, he had to stay strong. Sliding down the rock, he slid on his rear to the edge of the fluid and dipped his feet it. It was cool, and washed away the dirt and grime from his feet. As per usual, he was wearing flip flops, so his ankles were a bit dry and cracked from the arid environment he was in. This water refreshed his sore heels, and revitalized him in general. The coldness woke him up, and the moisture relieved some stress. It was definitely a nice location. Closing his eyes as he sat, he found himself beginning to doze off. This place was almost too comfortable, which would be bad for training. He wanted some place that was harsh, but not unbearable. A place that would keep him on edge so he was always working at his absolute limit. A place that would harden his resolve, and toughen him up in the process. This was not the place. Perhaps he'd remember this location for small breaks, and to wash himself/cool off. Standing up, he grumbled as he walked back to his stuff. He noticed the boxes were a bit damp from the air. It was a good decision to leave. Had he stayed, the tea would have been ruined by the moisture. Heavy hearted, he kept trekking along. |
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| K1ngIsBack | Sep 21 2014, 01:48 AM Post #4 |
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That one King dude
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His distance from the small stream grew and the noise of flowing water slowly died away. As if it was retribution for him leaving the pleasurable area, the ground seemed to suck the moisture right out of his feet. All the damage and dryness that the water had repaired on his feet had come right back. In fact, the cracks and flakes seemed to be worse. He felt himself wincing a bit with every step as more and more moisture was drained from his soles. The sun was also sneaking slowly into the sky. It wasn't quite in the center of the sky, but it was far from dawn. The clouds from earlier had dispersed and the rays bore down upon him unhindered. It caused a trickle of sweat to meander down the contours of his face, and it seriously made him regret his chosen path. He could have stayed at the small basin of moisture and hope, and simply lost the tea. Well, that was a non-option because of how much he liked tea. He could have followed the stream which twisted and turned and disappeared into the distance. Actually, why didn't he do that? He wasn't even sure. Thinking back, that seemed like an amazing idea. Right now, he was hot, bothered, and dry. Oh so dry. He looked longingly over his shoulder at the tea packs. They were nice and dry, just how he wanted him. Well, he really wanted some brewed tea, so, not quite so dry. The problem with unbrewed tea packets is that they needed water in order to drink them. This was possibly the greatest oversight he had made so far. Not only had he walked away from a very convenient source of water, he hadn't even stored any so he could use it to brew tea. Hell, he needed the hydration in whatever form it came in. He could simply drink the water if he had any. These negative thoughts and constant streams of self doubt were starting to take their toll. His hand was getting more and more irritated as time passed. It was as if the wounds and scratches were responding to his negative emotions. Like, his body was punishing him for his mistakes. The negativity seemed to emanate from his hand and coil sinisterly down the rope. It gripped the wooden planks that composed the pallet and started to coil and coat the entire surface. Tiny tendrils extended and gripped out the ground around it, picking up extra weight, and grabbing at any hold it could get. The packages became exponentially harder to pull despite no apparent change. In fact, he was getting to the point of dehydration, and his depression was indeed affecting his performance. He was entering a critical state of patheticness and it was not looking to turn around any time soon. His teeth started to rub against each other slowly. The grinding was mild, but it was slowly increasing in intensity. Small microscopic bits of his teeth were being scraped off, and a chalky squeal started to come from betwixt his lips. His eyelids lolled, and his sweat became cold. His grip on the rope slacked, and it started to slide roughly through his hand. All the while, the sun continued to pressure him from above with its increasing heat. He couldn't bear to continue any further. All semblance of patience and tenacity vanished from his expression and were instead replaced by frustration and silent rage. He didn't blame the surroundings, his anger was directed inward. He felt stupid, incompetent, careless, weak and lazy. Not quite the self image someone on a training quest should maintain. Slowly lowering, he stooped down to his knees, and fell back until his rear rested on his ankles. His face lifted upwards, and an arm was draped over his eyes. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as his teeth stopped gnashing. His mouth was lolled open. "I need water..." |
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| K1ngIsBack | Sep 22 2014, 02:14 AM Post #5 |
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That one King dude
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He waited there motionless. His mouth remained open as if waiting for a benevolent god to spray sweet juices into his mouth. Yes, he was that damn thirsty. His arm no longer covered his eyes. His extremities were slack and hang helplessly to his sides. His back was slumped forward, with only his neck struggling to stay upright. His cheeks were heavily flushed, and the corners of his eyes showed dried tear tracks. He could probably walk for a minute in any direction if he had to, but he didn't see the point. Donkey was focused entirely on thirst. Had he not been sitting there helplessly for the past hour, he may have been able to muster enough strength to get back to the stream, but he was so thirsty at the time that he had simply decided to crash on the spot. His thirst now couldn't even be described in words. At that moment, living itself felt like torture and he was ready to give in. Whatever it took, whatever bargain he had to make with the devil, he needed water. Not just water, anything wet. Anything that would hydrate him would do. Anything at all. But it didn't come. He was stranded there, mouth dry, face dry, skin dry, just completely dry in general. Groaning and leaning forward, his head hurtled toward the ground and collided with a dull thud. His face broke through the dry surface layer, and was pressed against a slightly different material than the surface. It wasn't as gritty and dry as the surface was. Don't get me wrong, it was still dry. It wasn't soft loamy soil or anything like that, but it wasn't sandy and scratchy like the surface. The texture was much smoother, smeared on his skin if pressure was put on it, and it had a slightly red hue. It also wasn't as hot as the surface. It was a nice pleasant cool sensation that he was not used to feeling during these past hours. Lifting his head, he wedged one arm under his forehead so he had some breathing room, then he used the other to scratch at the surface. It left a groove in the material, and dry red powder was scraped as he dug in. It was like... clay? It wasn't the moist sticky clay that he had played with as a child, but there was little doubt in his mind what it was. It was red clay. His mother had raised a garden in dirt rich in red clay, so Donkey knew a tidbit about it. Generally, it's rich in nutrients and it holds water better than other types of soil. Now, that didn't mean there was always water in clay. Clay simply held water better. If there's no water to hold, that means diddly squat, but Donkey was going to cling to that sliver of hope. Lifting his head, he put all of his remaining strength into his hands. He clawed at the hard smooth surface with all his might. Small piles of red dust were scraped to the side, and soon he had a small hole going. The pace was terribly slow as this clay was sun baked and hard, but he wasn't going to give up. If there was water, the further down he dug the softer it would get. He just had to get through this tough start. Practically mashing his finger tips against the surface he scraped it away. Two fingernails were cracked and another torn of but the didn't relent. He even bit at the chalky substance with his teeth when he could get his head into the cavity. It didn't do much good, but he was desperate. After about 5 minutes he finally had the notion to use a tool. Turning, he ripped a plank from his shoddy good platform then began using one end of it to scrape at the clay. The hole got deeper and the pile of red dust grew into a credible mound of dirt. When it was about a foot deep, he pressed his cheek against the side. It was definitely cooler. That weird kind of cool where your skin sticks to it but it's not quite wet. It was definitely an indicator of moisture though, and his hopes were renewed. He would be glad to drink murky clay water if he could get to it. |
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| K1ngIsBack | Sep 25 2014, 01:15 AM Post #6 |
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That one King dude
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Knuckles bloody, fingers torn, and palms riddled with splinters wracked Donkey's mind with pain. Each motion sent several pangs up his arms, and it was hard to keep going. He hadn't been digging for too long, but he had started exhausted, and had to break through the tough surface layer in order to get this deep into the clay. He was starting to get to moister material, but there wasn't enough water in it to puddle at the bottom of the hole. He was tempted to chew the clay, but he figured that it wouldn't get him anywhere. He would probably lose energy trying to get the water out of the stuff rather than replenishing his vitality. With a groan, he lifted the wooden board he had been using to dig high above his head. The end was pointed after several parts had broken of during the excavation. This actually made it better for digging, but Donkey wasn't at all grateful for it. Water was the only thing he would be thankful for at this point in time. Gritting his teeth incredibly hard, he shifted up higher onto his knees, then brought the point towards the deepest part of the hole and thrust it down with all of his remaining strength. There was a slight squelch as the wood pierced the surface and continued downward through softer material until finally halting after it had gone in about half way. Slowly, Donkey pulled the stick free. The clay was creating some suction so it was a little tough to pull out, but he wrenched it free anyways. What remained was a narrow angular hole that was formed when the wood displaced the clay on both sides. At the bottom of the hole, there was some glossy material. It was reflecting better because of the sun directly overhead. Forcing his hand into the hole, he went as deep as he could, extending his fingers towards the bottom. He desperately wriggled and turned his arm until the wet sensation was covering up to his first knuckle. He had reached water level. Fervently, he jerked his arm free and replaced it with the wooden piece. He was going to dig it in an odd manner, but he figured it would work. He started it rotate it and move it around in slowly growing ovals. The hole widened as more and more clay was displaced, and weird red ripples formed on the sides of the hole as some of it was pushed upwards. When it was wide enough, Donkey got both arms in and started scooping the wet murky material out of the bottom in wide arcing tosses. He wasn't going to be clean about this. Being quick was much more prudent. With both arms sending a cascade of reddish brown murky sludge, it coated his clothing, practically ruining his white shirt. Luckily, the tea and cakes were spared from the mess. When he was downright exhausted, he looked down at his prize. Donkey's feet were in the hole, his butt on the edge, and his entire torso bent forward so that his hands could reach in. The dirty water was up to the middle of his shins. He had succeeded. His desperation had paid off in the end as he now had a decent sum of water. It would at least last him a two or three days if he used it sparingly, and he didn't intend to quit digging. If this was a good source of water, he would dig right through the aquifer and secure it. This wasn't what he was thinking about at the moment though. In fact, he wasn't thinking at all. He was simply pouring scoop after scoop of red liquid into his mouth. It was gritty, it tasted like dirt, it died his skin red, but it was water. It felt cool as it ran down his parched throat. He splashed his face a few times to cool himself off, and then he coated his arms with it. He had heard that if you coat your skin with mud or dirt or something, you could avoid some sunburn. He was too tired to move, and he was right smack dab in the middle of a broad plain. Avoiding the sun wasn't something he could do. Falling back, he covered his eyes. He had a smile spread across his cheeks as he drifted off for a nap. |
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| K1ngIsBack | Sep 26 2014, 03:39 AM Post #7 |
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That one King dude
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There was a distinct rumbling noise that shook Donkey to his core. He ignored it at first, continuing to enjoy his nap, but then the quakes got larger. He groaned and grumbled for a moment until a particularly violent rumble occurred. Like rocket, he shot up from his position to see what was causing the tremors. He scanned the horizon, turning in a complete circle to see what it was. His senses were heightened by his panic, he he didn't let a single detail escape his view. Oddly, there was nothing in the distance that would indicate danger. No stampeding animals, no mudslide(as if), not volcano erupting, no hurricanes or tornadoes and no apparent earthquake. Even stranger was that he still felt the rumbling, but he didn't feel the ground shaking. Looking down, he noticed his nearly concave abdomen and his mouth dropped open in shock. He could see ripples on his stomach, and now the noise of an empty stomach became quite apparent. He hadn't eaten in the previous day because he had been so determined to find a location to settle down. After that, he had been so preoccupied with getting water that he had forgotten to eat. Even if he had remembered, his throat had been too dry to swallow the cake. Having just recalled the water, he dove back to the ground, head first, so that he slid to a halt in front of the hole. His head was looking over the edge to see if there was water left. It would be pretty shitty if he had gone through all of that work just to have the water dry up while he slept. Do his relief, there was still some in the little basin, but the level of the water was lower. He let out a sigh. He could foresee a lot more digging if he was to sustain this water source. It would also help if he covered the hole to prevent the sun from evaporating it during the day. It was currently in the evening, so there was light, but the sun had drifted quite a ways down the horizon, and it wasn't nearly as hot. It was some pretty damn good working weather. Not wanting to waste any time, Donkey reached towards the water, and attempted to scoop some muck up with his hands. He instantly regretted the decision. A crippling burning sensation shot up his arms and all through his body as his raw digits touched the water. His hands were swollen up to an alarming degree, and they were red and warm to the touch. It looked like a rash or an infection of some sort. Donkey's face was stretched taught with pain as he inspected his hands. The most likely cause of the swelling was the splinters he had neglected to remove. Using his teeth, he had to dig in and pull them free one by one. They were generally small, but when you have upwards of 10 splinters in each hand, it's going to hurt regardless. Gnashing away, he gripped the final one and jerked it free. A bead of blood formed at the exit of the wound, but dried up within a minute or two. Donkey say waving his hands back in forth. The cool air felt could, and alleviated some of the warmth in his hands. The next step in fixing his hands up was bandaging them. He didn't have anything else to use, so he tore off his sleeves and began to wind them in circles around each hand. He pull them tight using his teeth, and let out an anguished moan when he finished. The pressure was uncomfortable, but he knew he had to take care of himself out in the wilderness like this. With the immediate precautions out of the way, he decided it was now time to fill his belly. Trying not to be wasteful, he only ate two of his delectable cakes. He was still a tad hungry, but he wanted to save his rations. With his stomach troubles accounted for, he returned to the hole wielding his trusty stick. Time for work. |
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| K1ngIsBack | Sep 26 2014, 10:54 AM Post #8 |
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That one King dude
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Whilst back at work digging out the hole, Donkey recalled how shitty this work was. It was grueling labor, very monotonous, and it was really messy. There was no fun in the job, and it was exhausting. He scraped liquefied clay out of the cavity using a very inefficient tool. The board he was using was only about 3 inches wide, and it was thin and splintered easily. The end of the board that he used to scrape the clay away was mostly broken into a narrow point, so it had even less of a surface area. It was a really terrible tool for scooping material. His hands would have made much better tools, but they were still sore, and unusable. He was stuck with this shitty tool, digging a shitty hole in the middle of the shitty wasteland that was called Cactus Island. Any normal man would find this to be a terrible situation to be in. They would be depressed, and hate their bad choices that got them there. Donkey was no normal man, though he shared their sentiments. This place was awful and he was an idiot for coming here. Luckily/unfortunately this place would make for a good training ground. He just wouldn't enjoy it, like, at all. Splashes indicated the sides of the walls caving in and making the hole wider. This was helpful in a sense, but he wanted a deeper well, so the width was not his focus. He had switched his digging method a little bit after getting some more first hand experience in the hole. He would jab away with the sharp tool he had fashioned. Once the base was lose, and easy to manipulate, he would dig his feet in and scoop it out. It still was not a very reliable method, but it had expedited the process by roughly five times. The mound of sludge he had been building up on the side was dry in spots, and was starting to firm up. Donkey took notice of this fact, but he hadn't thought of a way to utilize this knowledge yet. He planned to give it some thought when he took a break. There had to be a cool way he could use all this clay, but all he could think of was stupid artsy crap that didn't really interest him. As his feet sank deeper into some muck, they brushed against something hard. In an instant, his feet shot up out of the water, and were suspended in the air above the surface. His eyes were darting back and forth as he scanned the fluid. His thoughts were of crabs, and other hard shelled monsters of the sea, that is, until he recalled where he was. Slipping his feet back into the water, Donkey cautiously brushed his toes over the hard object. Now that he felt it a bit, he realized it wasn't moving for one, and it was rough and jagged instead of smooth like an animals shell. This was no living thing, not even close. It was just a rock, and a decent sized one at that. It caught him off guard because he hadn't found and so far aside from pebbles, but it made sense that there would be some eventually as he dug. Gripping it between his feet, he tried to lift it. There was a bit of resistance, but it came up without much trouble. As it happened, it was more flat than he had expected. It had a broad surface, but wasn't very thick. Flipping it over in his hands, he scanned it a bit. It was a bit sharp on the edges, about one inch thick, and was roughly triangle shaped or maybe a trapezoid. It weighed maybe five pounds. More importantly than any of that though, was that it looked a bit like the head of a shovel. Donkey's smile was gleaming as he imagined how easy digging would be if he had a shove. He had some shoddy wood, but it would probably be good enough for a handle. When his hands healed, he would be sure to use the cloth bandages as binding to secure the stone to a plank. Until then, he would simply continue with using his feet to dig. |
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| K1ngIsBack | Sep 29 2014, 08:02 AM Post #9 |
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That one King dude
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Donkey had managed to dig out another foot and a half by using his feet. His hands were still sore so he was hesitant to unwrap them and use them for a shovel yet. Still, he had made some decent progress on his well of sorts, so it was time for a small break. Well, break isn't exactly the word for it. He was surely catching his breath and relaxing for a moment, but his concentration on the well did not change. The water was murky and clouded with the red clay, so he wanted to wait and see what happened. After overcoming his initial thirst, he didn't want to continue consuming the gritty mud juice he had been accustomed to over the previous several hours. He had taken sips every now and again, and the earthy taste was starting to bother him. He figured it would settle eventually so this was what he was observing. He was going to time how long it generally took to settle so he'd know if this was truly worth investing his time in. If it took less than an hour, then it would probably be fine to use. If it took a few hours, then that was pushing it to far. He couldn't stop digging to wait several hours every time he wanted a sip. That was simply too much lost time. It would completely blow away the efficiency he had struggled to maintain, and he wasn't willing to let it do that. Mouth clenched tight and eyes locked on the fluid he waited. To his pleasant surprise, the water only took about 10 minutes to settle. Sure, there was a speck floating here or there, but for the most part, it was clear water. He could see to the bottom of his little hole of life juice. Tiny pebbles resting on the surface of the red silt like material. There was a slight glossy streak across the surface of the water that reflected in several different colors. It was an oily rainbow, most likely oils from his skin as his feet had been submerged for hours on end into the lukewarm liquid. It was actually a little gross when he thought about it. He had been drinking muddy foot water. Yeah, that didn't sit right with him. Pulling his arms in through his torn sleeves, he lifted his shirt off his body. He then folded it a bit, and dragged it across the surface of the water to act as a bit of a filter. After a minute of accurate scooping, it seemed he had managed to clean it up a bit. There was no longer a sickening glossy sheen to the water that indicated foot oil. Perfect... sort of. He reached down and scooped up a handful of water before taking a sip. It was certainly much better than before, but... it still had a heavy mineral taste. There was probably no helping that. It was coming from the ground to begin with, so it inevitably would taste like the ground. Chkchkchk. It was the sound of crinkling plastic. His thoughts rambled for a bit as he tried to comprehend what it was. Suddenly, he realized what the noise was, and his head turned with a sharp jerk. His eyes fell upon his boxed up stack of plastic wrapped cakes. The noise had stopped, but something had to have made it. His eyes stayed focused but he saw no movement. His stack was completely motionless, hell, the plastic wasn't even exposed, so it couldn't have been the air. All of the boxes were still shut, so it was hard to think of why the plastic had ruffled. Climbing to his feet, Donkey walked over towards the platter and started sifting through the parcels. Nothing seemed amiss. They were all sealed, none of them had holes, nothing out of the ordinary. Donkey was thoroughly confused where the noise had come from. It just sort of stuck in his head, but eventually he had to brush it off as nothing. It certainly was strange. Walking back to the water side, he looked at it once more. Man, that clay taste was just not good. If only he had something that made water taste delicious. He sighed and got a little dejected. If only. Turning his head a bit, he glanced at his stack of tea packets. "Oh." |
![]() Julian banba - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/5448858/1/ bubba - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/4824864/1/#new shout - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/8304693/1/?x=90#new | |
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| K1ngIsBack | Sep 29 2014, 01:34 PM Post #10 |
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That one King dude
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With the ferocity of a wild tiger, Donkey pounced upon his delicate stack of boxes that contained tea packets. His body collided with the cardboard containers and sent several scattering but he wasn't worried. This was a dry as fuck desert wasteland, so they wouldn't get ruined by nature, and there was no one around to steal them, so really, he could take his time to pick them up later. His hands were fumbling with the container he had managed to grab. His thumb and forefinger were sore as all get out, but he was relentless in his efforts to pry it open. His fingertips slid under the tight edge of the box, and started to work their way around loosening it up. Once he was confident he had wedged it open, and gotten things moving, he pulled the top free. Inside were the wonderfully scented, and masterfully packed, pre-measured packets of tea. Donkey delicately reached in and removed a single bag of tea. He inspected it for a moment, then took a deep whiff of the scent. It was a scent he knew well, and it instantly calmed his nerves. He was looking forward to brewing this up over a toasty fire and pouring it into some fine china. His mouth watered as he imagined the taste. This happiness was short. Pretty much the entire plan of brewing tea was thwarted by Donkey's lack of preparation. With so much food and tea, you'd think he was actually a well established and thoughtful person. It was not the case. He had forgotten any semblance of silverware and plates, he didn't have a pot, and he didn't have cups for the tea. He had almost none of what he needed. Furthermore, he didn't have matches and he didn't have a pot. He couldn't start a fire to brew the tea. He barely even had a secure water source to use for it, and that had taken two days to secure. Donkey was not well off in this situation. His spirits plummeted as he came to this dim realization. Sure, he could probably soak the packets in this hole, but all the flavor would be lost. Hell, the water wouldn't be warm so the flavor wouldn't be extracted correctly even if he had a cup to put the water in. Another idea was to put it into a cup, and let the water soak it in the warm sun, but that required cups, and it still wouldn't work correctly. Dejectedly, Donkey placed the tea packet back into the box he had gotten it from. He made a quick roundabout to grab the spilled containers and re-stacked them on his pallet. With a greatly exaggerated sigh, he fell to his rear, propping one arm on his thigh, and resting his head upon his palm. He had to think things over. It was almost to the point where his whole training mission was a failure. If things got any worse, he'd have to pack up and head back to civilization with his head hanging in shame. It wasn't a future he wanted to embrace, but he was running out of options. Turning his head to scan the scenery, he prayed he'd see something useful, or perhaps a person, anything helpful really. Sadly, he didn't see anything. Just more empty ground, and the large cacti mountains in the distance in all directions. Hanging his head lower, his eyes fell back upon his water hole. Around the hole were a few small piles of drying clay, and then the larger mound he had made which was mostly dried out by now. Bored, and wanting something to do, he gave it a kick. The inside was still wet, but the outer layer which had been baking in the sun cracked and shattered like glass. Donkey's eyes went wide for two reasons. The first was that the shards of dried clay had scratched up his leg, and it heart like crazy. The second reason far outweighed the first, and it was the realization that he could make things out of the clay. Particularly, he could make cups and a kettle out of it. If he managed to make some, it would be a huge step in securing a process to make tea. |
![]() Julian banba - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/5448858/1/ bubba - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/4824864/1/#new shout - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/8304693/1/?x=90#new | |
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| K1ngIsBack | Oct 1 2014, 08:17 PM Post #11 |
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That one King dude
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Donkey was not the most dexterous person. He had never been one for handicrafts and artsy stuff so making pots and cups of the correct sizes to properly serve tea was difficult for him. All of his tea packets were measured for 32 oz pots, and the glasses he typically used were 16 oz. That meant each packet was meant for 2 glasses of tea. That was a very proper amount of tea for an avid drinker like Donkey. He was not about to be a heathen of tea, or a teathen so to speak. He wanted to follow his classic ways of handling the refined beverage of the elite. Gripping the moist, soggy, and messy clay, he began to knead it. He wanted to use thin material so the containers weren't too heavy. He was kneading the clay into extremely thin strips, and then trying to wind it into a cup shape. Needless to say, he wasn't very successful. There were two major flaws in his plan. The first was the fact that clay tends to thin out when the water evaporates from it. That meant the end result would be even thinner, and probably too fragile to use. His other mistake was using strips. It was advisable to use a single piece of clay rather than multiple strips. It ensured no weak spots, not gaps, and eliminated the need to let the pieces individually dry together. After about 6 failed attempts which now sat in a haphazard pile to his left, he decided to think about the process for a moment. The matter of it being too thin had eluded him because he hadn't made it far enough to let one of his glasses dry. The matter of strips versus a single lump of clay, though, was starting to dawn on him. He was beginning to find it much easier to form the glass when he made an orb, then slowly made an indentation in the center using his thumbs. By slowly rotating it, and using his thumbs to keep making the indent deeper, the shape of a cup was beginning to form. His eyes sparkled in admiration of his own efforts. It was a sensation he wasn't used to. The only results he had ever been proud of had ties to his running. Whenever he didn't handcraft crap like this, it was often in a competition against his brother and ended in a loss. For him to be proud of his own efforts was a big mental step for Donkey. Despite his hate of working with the clay, he found himself smiling as he plugged along. In front of him, after about ten minutes of work, he had a cup. Well, more like a bowl. He had made the sides much too thin, and had used too much material so it ended up too large. With a grunt, he rescinded his optimism and smashed his seventh failed attempt. His sights were on his pile of failure. He wasn't actually thinking about the misshapen cups, rather, about the clay they were composed of. It was half dry, and cracked in places, but it was still useful material. There was no point in wasting it. Scooping some water with his free hand, he splashed it onto the mess then started smashing it into fresh clay. With one more scoop of water, and a little more pressure from his hands, it was back to the state it had been when he started with it. Using his previous mistakes to form some mental guidelines, he began an 8th attempt. To start with, he grabbed less clay this time around. He made it into a perfect sphere, then slowly began applying pressure to the center. By slowly kneading it, he made the cavity larger, but he was very careful not to make it too thin. He didn't want it to end up being too large. Progressing in a circular motion, he formed the cup. It looked roughly the same size as the cups he was accustomed to using. His smile surfaced once more. This glass, well, clay cup was looking quite nice to his untrained eye. Sure, it wasn't perfect, but if all went well, it would serve his purpose. |
![]() Julian banba - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/5448858/1/ bubba - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/4824864/1/#new shout - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/8304693/1/?x=90#new | |
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| K1ngIsBack | Oct 1 2014, 08:35 PM Post #12 |
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That one King dude
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Donkey didn't want to let this chance fall to ruin, so he was careful to get everything right from the get go. He had the nice round main body of the cup, but there were some articulations that needed to be made. Using his small fingers, he made an indentation along the inside rim of the glass. He wanted to make an ever so faint edge. This would help with the surface tension of the tea, and give the lip something to wrap onto when he took a sip. He also cleared off a flat spot on the ground so he could flatten the bottom of the cup. He wanted the base to be nice and even so he could set it down on things. With that done, he rolled a small noodle of clay between two fingers. It was time to make a fanciful handle for his mug. Bending both ends of the small tube he had rolled, he made short curls. He then pressed the base of each curl onto the side of the cup, and formed a nice loop. Because the cup hadn't dried completely yet, he nearly pierced the side with the pressure of his fingers. He was focused though and managed to catch his mistake. Using his indexes, he redistributed the clay and made the side of the mug less thin. With that done, he set the cup down to dry. It would probably have to set in the scorching sun for a day or two before it was completely dry and water safe. Once all the moisture was baked out of it, the mug would be fairly water tight. It would have to soak for ages after being baked in order to become soggy again. Donkey was gleaming at this point, a white grin stretched cheek to cheek. His success on the mug was inflating his ego to dangerous extents. he was quite ready to jump on the next task of making the kettle. His goal was to make a two in one kettle/tea pot so he would only have to make one more clay sculpture. It wouldn't be as proper as boiling water in a kettle before pouring it into a pot, but it would have to do. He wasn't exactly in a proper place, so he could be lax in some regards. As long as the taste wasn't overly effected, as the taste was the most important aspect. With a smug grin, he grabbed another glob of clay. This one was much larger to be heat resistant, and to hold 32 oz of water for the tea. Even with his current ego, he wasn't very confident about making this one. It would have to have a spout with a filter built into the base because he wasn't capable of making moving parts. It would need a thick base to rest on, especially since it would be sitting on hot coals. If it was too thin, and wasn't bottom heavy, the chances of it tipping and spilling out were increased. He also wanted a solid hand that was distanced from the hot base so he didn't burn himself. All in all, he didn't expect it to be easy. With his large glob, he was intending to do it in a 3 part process. He understood that it wasn't going to be as solid, but he just didn't know how to do it otherwise. He could make a pretty standard bowl for the top. Then, he'd cut out a circle at the base of the bowl which would be where water and the tea was placed in. He wound mount the bowl onto the solid base, and then use extra clay to smooth over the crease and to make it solid. Finally, he would roll a spout and mount it to the side of the bowl, making sure to pierce the side with small holes in order to make a rough filter. The filter was to catch any loose pieces of tea leaf/stems so they didn't go into the glass. Letting out a determined grunt, he went to work. Determining that it was the most important part, Donkey began working on the base. He used very firm pressure to make sure there were no air bubbles in the clay. He wanted it to be firm and consistent in texture. He then placed the slab of clay on the flat ground he had used to flatten the base of the mug. Pressing it to the ground, he made sure it was thick enough, then used his finger to trace a circle. He was planning to cut it out along this circular trace. |
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| K1ngIsBack | Oct 1 2014, 08:50 PM Post #13 |
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That one King dude
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Donkey knew he had to cut out the base of the clay kettle/pot before he continued on the rest because he didn't want it to dry out. The problem was that he didn't have any cutting tools. The best he could manage was a needle like splinter that had broken off of the stick he was using to dig. It wasn't very long, or sturdy, so he would have to slowly carve a groove into the soft clay. It wouldn't be hard, but it would be time consuming to keep it precise. Considering that it was his only option, Donkey grit his teeth, then loomed in towards his work. His eyes were a little less than a foot above the clay slab. His fingers were pinched up on the splinter so that only an inch or so was used to perform the actual carving. The actual slab was about three inches thick. Probably more thick than was needed, but he figured that a sturdier foundation wouldn't be an issue. It was better to be safe than sorry. He then began rotating his hand slowly around the circle he had traced. It was important that he be accurate because he didn't want a lopsided mess. The clay beaded up, and formed small coils as it was carved out of the groove. He had to pinch it away so it didn't get mashed into the surface. Around and around he went, continuing to monitor his work. After five minutes of scraping, Donkey was very close to finishing the base. There were two indentations on the base that he wasn't proud of, but he had come so close to finishing that he didn't want to just scrap it. He decided that the impurities would be his signature on the piece. Well, that's what he told himself in order to maintain his composure. In reality, he was just really bad at what he was doing, and wanted an excuse not to restart. Pushing forward, he finished the carving, and slowly slid the wet slabs around the edges away. What remained was a nearly perfect-ish circle. It was uniformly the same thickness, and it made Donkey a little bit giddy. He was on to the next step towards making some nice refreshing tea. It was time to make the bowl that would serve as the top half of the kettle. This part was the part that worried him the most. It required much more delicate hand maneuvers than the base did, and would probably end up taking more time. He started with a ball of clay, similar to when working on the mug. This time, he grabbed a lot because he wanted it to be thick, and he wasn't very afraid of making it too large. The base was fairly large itself, so he wasn't worried about overshooting it. If anything, he was worried he'd undershoot it. Work began as usual, using his thumbs to knead away at the material. With the size of the blob of clay, it quickly progressed past the use of just his thumbs. Soon, his index, middle and ring fingers were all inside the bowl and firmly pressing out the inside. He pressed away at the clay quickly forming the general shape of the bowl. He could be quick at the start where less delicacy was needed. It wasn't until he was smoothing it out and maintaining consistency that he needed to be super cautious. As long as it was pretty close there would be no issues, but if he was off by too far, there was the risk of the kettle exploding from the steams pressure. Tea wasn't tea if you didn't boil the water. It was just slightly flavored hot water that Donkey wouldn't serve to his worst enemies. That's why the tools he used, the very foundations of his tea making, had to be acceptable. Once the bowl was formed, he held it above the base to see how big he had to make it. He wasn't even close. The bowl was about 2 inches short on all sides, and he had thought he was pushing it too much. It wasn't a matter of him not working it enough, he hadn't even started with enough clay. His cheeks flushed, but he hadn't given up yet. Smashing the bowl back into a ball, he grabbed some more from the pit and slapped it onto the side. |
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| K1ngIsBack | Oct 1 2014, 09:00 PM Post #14 |
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That one King dude
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Using his newly formed ball of clay, Donkey was progressing at a mad pace. It was like the closer he came to finishing it, the more avidly he wanted to final product. It was reckless and crass, but he strongly desired the tea, which meant he strongly desired the kettle. Using the new ball of clay, he furiously dug his fingers into the center, forming the initial indentation. He then began working his fingers around in a circle, making the indent wider and deeper. When he could fit his index, middle, and ring fingers into the cavity, he did, and started using most of his hand to expand it. It grew in size, and thinned in thickness. The dome was much larger than the previous one but he was confident that he didn't overshoot it. He was also fairly certain that he didn't undershoot it. Holding the rough shape above the base, he brought it close to the surface to compare the circumference. It wasn't a perfect match, but it was close enough that a little smoothing of the edges would be enough to match them up perfectly. With a grin, he lifted up the bowl, and began to smooth out the inside. He had about a thousand small finger prints to work out before he would be satisfied with the texture. It was actually pretty hard to get the finger prints out of the clay. It was still moist enough to keep his prints so he had to tear a small piece of fabric to use as a smoothing tool. He would wrap it around one or two fingers, then dip it in water. Once it was prepared, he would slide it around the interior making sure to run it over any severe indents that he had made. Like this, he started out at the rims, then proceeded in towards the center. It was long, and annoyingly precise because every time he gripped another spot to move the bowl, he ended up making another dent. It was problematic and time consuming but he had to persevere. His tea depended on it. Furiously he slid it around and around, making sure he didn't press too hard, and after about twenty minutes the inside was polished and smooth. It didn't reflect light, but it was smooth enough for a rough attempt at natural clay. There was no way someone inexperienced like him would be able to make a reflective surface on it. Donkey was quite proud at what he had accomplished. Now he had to perform the same process on the outside which was surprisingly much easier. He was able to place the bowl down on the base plate so that the round exterior faced up. Then, by spinning the base and holding the cloth to the side, it smoothed itself out. The last method which he had discovered by accident almost seemed like a cheat. It had expedited the process 10 fold when compared to the inside of the bowl, and before he realized it, the outside was nice and smooth as well. After several glances and checks of both the interior and exterior of the bowl, he was confident that it was good enough. Now it was time to cut a hole in the top where tea and water could be poured inside. This was going to be done using the same small splinter he had used earlier. He didn't know how to trace a hole in the top without putting in too much pressure and collapsing the bowl, so he had to freehand it. He dug the small splinter and traced around in a small circle. It didn't need to be large, it just had to fit the tea packets, and possibly a spout for pouring water. It was a little jagged, and it was not pleasant to his overly expectant eye, but he did make an outline of a circle. Following through with the previous motion, he continued circling his wrist around with the splinter in order to carve out the hole. His heart almost stopped when the piece fell free and fell in to the inside of the bowl. He hadn't expected it to happen so easily, and suddenly, it was done. His obvious reaction was to think he messed it up, but to his ecstatic relief, it was a success. |
![]() Julian banba - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/5448858/1/ bubba - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/4824864/1/#new shout - http://s1.zetaboards.com/One_Piece_RP/topic/8304693/1/?x=90#new | |
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| K1ngIsBack | Oct 5 2014, 11:34 PM Post #15 |
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That one King dude
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Donkey's eyes glimmered with hope as he stared at his 85% complete tea pot/kettle mega combination. Thoughts of fresh brewed tea clouded his mind as his hands started to fumble with inside his creation. He was pinching the piece he had cut out into a small ball so that he could remove it without distorting the dome he had set in place. With how easily it had gone, he figured he shouldn't lift it up and risk damaging it. Removing the piece through the hole he had made was a safer option as long as his wrist didn't bump anything. Lost in his thoughts, his hand didn't shake or carelessly bump into anything. It moved without hesitation with uncanny precision and removed the clay ball. By the time his focus returned to the pot, he had a small orb of red clay in his hand, and he was already starting to flatten it. He was going to use this to make the spout for the kettle. The first thing he did was make a very thin rectangle, making sure it was roughly the same thickness. When he was content with the shape and size of it, he laid it on a smooth spot on the ground. Using his trust splinter, he carved it into an elongated trapezoid. The idea as that when he rolled it into a tube, because of the shortening width, the tube would get thinner near the end. With the final shape cut, it was the moment of truth. He had to carefully roll it into a tube without letting any part of the tiny tunnel cave in. How he was going to seal it was a mystery. He hadn't thought that far ahead yet. Grabbing the clay, he started to roll it so that the edges touched. He rolled the entire thing, and angled the tube so that it had a nice arch and formed a proper spout. He then stared as it unrolled and fell back into a flat shape because he hadn't sealed it. His eyebrows furrowed as he inspected the piece of clay. It was now apparent to him that he would have to figure something out. He couldn't pinch it because the tube would collapse. He needed a way to gently seal it, or rather, an intelligent way to seal it. The idea that popped into his head seemed decent enough, so he wanted to give it a try. Rolling it up once more, he gave it the nice curve so it served as a spout. Next, he folded the edged that met up, so there was a slight ridge on the exterior of the spout. Using his fingernails, Donkey pinched the ridges to seal the spout. Because he was sealing it on the outside, the pipe like structure didn't collapse from the force. With a cocky smirk, Donkey started measuring where to put the spout on the body of the kettle. He didn't have many restrictions on where to put it because he didn't have a handle yet. As long as they were on opposite sides in the end, he would be happy. What did matter was that the spout needed to be mounted low on the kettle. The base of the spout needed to be below water level to avoid letting steam out of it. Marking a spot on the side, he used the wooden splinter to poke a multitude of small holes in the side of the kettle. These were going to serve as the filter for the tea. It didn't have to be super fine, as long as it kept large pieces of tea from getting out. With a small circle of holes fitted inside the circle he had marked on the side, Donkey carefully lowered the spouts base, and started to align it. Making sure that all of the holes were safely inside the circumference of the spouts base, he pressed it onto the side of the kettle. The base was roughly attached, so Donkey let go and quickly looked for a small round pebble. Finding one that was nice and smooth, Donkey started pressing it against the base of the spout to smooth it out and secure it to the kettle. After rubbing it around the edges, he checked to see if he left any marks on the kettle. He was content with the appearance so it was time to let it dry. As his thoughts wandered, something caught his attention. "Hey~ Don't forget to eat some cake~" Donkey nodded his head while looking down at his pot. "Yeah, I should get some." His eyes glazed over for a second, then in a panic, he turned towards the voice. It was in the direction of his cakes and tea stacks but there was nobody there. |
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1:52 AM Jul 11