The Quest for Pants and other Important Things.

[Pepita]

"You're embarrassing yourself, stop it." Pepita had her knees locked around a branch as she dangled upside down, peering at the squirrel directly below her. It clutched three acorns between it's tiny arms with another two stuffed into it's cheeks. "No one is stealing your nuts, you just can't remember where you buried them. Oh no you don't, wipe that look off your face or I'll do it for you... what? No! Why would I take them! Have you been getting into my ale stash? You're drunk, go home before you say something you'll regret."

She wiggled her arms below her, shooing off the stumbling rodent before pulling herself upright. Stupid Riley, he thought just because he was her best friend that he was allowed to go through her stuff whenever he felt like it. Squirrels were the douchebags of the forest sometimes. Honestly, where would she even keep those acorns? Pepita only got dressed when she was leaving the tree house, so there weren't a whole lot of places she could be smuggling them, but leave it to a drunk squirrel to not think rationally.

Before she could extend her mental tirade, a loud bleat carried up through the branches and echoed around the room. It was time for the morning patrol and more importantly, girl talk. Quickly, Pep threw on bloomers and a giant sized tunic she had taken from one of the forest's many victims. It fit her like a tent, but Pep was so far removed from the outside world she assumed that's how it was supposed to look. Then with her satchel swung over her shoulder and her hair pulled up and secured with some vines, Pepita climbed down to greet her favorite gal pal, Agatha.

Agatha had tan skin, a slender neck and legs that went on for days. She was a deer.

"I wonder if there's anything good in the traps today. This is around the time of year we find the most dead explorers and it couldn't come a moment too soon. I'm out of pants. Maybe someone my size died last night. What do you think, is that too much to ask for?" Pep held out her hand and smiled as Agatha bumped her head against it affectionately. While Pep couldn't communicate with words to the animals around her, she could send out feelings and read them as well and right now Agatha felt optimistic. Yeah, there was something in the air that morning. Something that gave her hope that somewhere, somehow, she was going to get a pair of pants.

[Muir]

Muir disagreed with most people in the world in that he thought deserts to be delightful, finding comfort in the drifting dunes that stretched as far as the eye could see, and the Red Forest was driving him mad with boredom, frustration, and claustrophobia. As the young man trudged along through the underbrush, staff in hand as a walking stick, he pulled some folded papers from a pocket in the breast of his jacket, amongst them a couple pages "borrowed" –– i.e., torn –– from a book he found at Luned's library. The crumpled surfaces were embossed with engravings detailing a peculiar silvery-green plant with a deep blue, three petaled blossom, a rare specimen rumored to… well, he'd find out when he took it for a test ride.

He hesitated in his brush stomping to inspect the information for the hundredth time but, as always, found nothing new. The profile of the plant was vague, simply noting that it had been spotted in this vicinity of the forest. "Fucking flower," he grumbled, one hand absentmindedly reaching into his pocket to fish out a small metal tube. He popped it open with his thumb and tipped it into his mouth, discretely swallowing the tiny round tablet that fell out. He replaced the top and put it away, then folded the papers to do the same with them as well. Under his long black coat he wore a simple white shirt and dark blue, pinstriped pants tucked into his heavy boots that were laced lazily halfway up his calves. Heavy belts held kits and pouches at his waist and a pack was strapped to his back, consisting of a duffle bag and a sturdy mahogany toolbox. His sister had one that matched it, but while hers contained creative materials relevant to her profession as a scribe, his contained science.

Better not wander too far from the guide, he reminded himself as he ran a hand through his shoulder-length auburn hair, and then he checked both his compass and pocket watch. Even an asshole like you knows better than to stay out here alone after dark. He'd come on the hike from the nearest logging camp and fully intended to return by nightfall, not wishing to witness any of the mythical monstrosities Raiaerans so readily shared accounts of around campfires. Such things were left better to the safety of the company of friends, as he wasn't sure he could handle discovering for himself which stories were tall tales and which were horrific truths. One more hour and I'll come back tomorrow, Muir reasoned with himself, and he began walking again, without much thought for the guide he'd left in the dust. Dalamus was somewhere along behind him, too slow for Muir's short patience.

A few steps was all it took and the young man felt the ground beneath him give out, twigs and fallen branches and leafy vines collapsing into a large pit. As he fell, he hit his head, and all went dark.

[Pepita]

And so Pepita and Agatha walked through the forest like a couple of babes on a mission. A mission to get into everyone’s pants, literally. This job would be easier if most adventurers who explored the red forest weren’t so big, or the few times the pants fit they’re always covered in blood. Sometimes Pepita wondered if taking clothes from corpses wasn’t quite the best method. How did everyone else get their clothes? Did some sort of magical pants fairy deliver a pair on your birthday?

Another bleat from Agatha tore Pep out of her thoughts. Something was in the large pit trap and upon closer inspection it was a young man. More importantly, it was a young man with a girl sized waist. Could it be? It was! Pants that would fit! Pepita tried to control the emotions that were washing over her. She clasped her hands together and blinked away tears before whispering.

“Thank you bird gods, plant gods, bear gods, wolf gods, deer gods and most importantly pants fairy, for all you have blessed me with. But not you squirrel gods, you can go eat a bag of–“ Her prayer was censored by Agatha’s bleat, because she was a very proper lady deer. “Fine, I won’t curse in front of you, but will you at least help me pry these pants off this surprisingly intact corpse?”

Without hesitation, they both went to work, each taking one leg of the material and pulling. This would be a pretty awkward moment for Muir to wake up. His first vision would be of a deer and a girl wearing a tent and bloomers trying to strip him down in the middle of the forest.

[Muir]

The young man still dangled halfway into the pit when he came to, his body weight giving his violator extra leverage as he felt his pants yanked over his hips and down to his knees. "What the––" he grumbled, struggling, "Gods-damned, fucking, thieving––"

As soon as he started cursing and kicking, Pepita dropped him like a hot potato, sending him hard into the pit once again. The impact was dizzying, but this time Muir maintained consciousness; he was too livid to let this mugger get away. With some struggling, he scrambled to his feet and righted his clothing, all the while shouting creative and vicious threats related to sawing the offenders' testicles off and feeding them to the wildlife.

For obvious reasons, this deeply offended both Pepita and properly demure Agatha.

Eventually the man climbed out of the pit, something which required a good amount of effort as it was as deep as he was tall without much opportunity for footing. Covered in dirt, he grabbed his discarded staff, a many-purposed implement not very useful in the close confines of the forest, but it was comforting to have a weapon at hand. He gripped it until his knuckles were white, deep green gaze analyzing the brush around him; there was no one to be seen.

Muir scowled. His assailant was hiding, watching, and he could tell. "Whoever the flying fuck you are," he growled, running a hand over his mussed hair as he stalked around the circumference of the pit, "Get out before I beat you out." As he passed the brilliantly flowered shrubs behind which Pepita and Agatha crouched, he jabbed them with his staff to flush out any lurkers.

[Rowako]

Somewhere between wait up for me and don't wander off, Dalamus and Muir had become separated. Their separation would have seemed less severe if not for the fact that Dalamus was hired as Muir's guide. Dalamus fancied himself a guide in theory rather than in practice. In fact, Muir was his practice, his first hire. The job? A rare plant was rumored to blossom in the Red Forest and Muir needed a guide. Volumes of information concerning the Red Forest were permanently ingrained in Dalamus' mind from decades of research accomplished within The Library Of Ankhas of Ettermire, Dalamus' native city. So, it was just his luck when Dalamus' oversized ears caught wind of Muir's quest. Dalamus sought the opportunity and convinced Muir that he could indeed guide him... neglecting to inform Muir that he had neither previously acted as a guide or ever entered the Red Forest in his 136 years of existence. Details.

Dalamus wouldn't exactly call himself lost, but he didn't know for certain where he was going either. Not many maps of the Red Forest had been drawn up and it seemed that the ones Dalamus could recall were not entirely, if at all, accurate. Luckily, Muir had acquired a stick, used for walking, early in their travels causing a noticeable drag on the forest floor. It didn't take a genius to figure out the path Muir had chosen to take. With that, Dalamus followed Muir's tracks, all the while wallowing in self-pity at his failure to act as a guide.

The thought that all hope was not lost came rushing toward Dalamus when he heard a familiar voice echoing throughout the forest. Conscious of his condition, Dalamus hurried his pace making sure not to overexert himself. Pushing past the foliage blocking his path Dalamus entered the clearing, successfully reuniting with...

"MUIR..." Dalamus spoke, sounding more like a question than an exclamation. Muir stood before Dalamas, staff in hand and his pants around his ankles. Dalamus didn't know what to say in this compromising situation, so he chose not to say anything at all. He had read about men like Muir, pirates. Men in his line of work were often at sea for months at a time - confined to a cramped ship filled to capacity with other men and lacking women. It only made sense that Muir, a drifter, would come to grow lonely, and men had their needs. Now it all made sense. Dalamus' called for Muir to slow down more than once, but Muir refused to do so... choosing rather to wander off into the unknown and unsafe Red Forest to take care of his needs. Dalamus felt rather foolish for not recognizing this sooner. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. Take all the time you need." Dalamus finally managed to say before turning around to excuse himself.

[Pepita]

With muscles tensed Pep jumped into the bushes, Agatha only seconds behind. The man was not only alive, he was angry too! Maybe he would just stay in the pit and die of natural causes. Was that a horrible thing to wish on someone? Probably, but she had pants to worry about. She and Agatha just needed to keep him down there long enough for... shoot... he was already out.

Plan B, when he leaves they would follow him until he falls asleep and then try this again. Nope, never mind, scrap that, he had just jabbed Agatha in the face with a stick. This guy was good.

While Agatha darted out through the woods, full of lady like embarrassment and hurt integrity, Pepita slowly moved back and began to climb the nearest tree. She had lived with animals long enough to easily identify signs of aggression, and if this human wanted a fight, she would be ready for it. Now perched above him on a branch, Pep prepared to make her move, only to be startled by yet another voice. An elf? And elf with even better looking pants?!

This was too good to be true. Maybe it was a trap, but probably not. No, this was a gift from the animal gods and she needed to act fast. The elf had his back to them and he looked frail. This was perfect.

With an awkward animalistic shout, Pepita jumped out of the tree and toppled right onto the elf, sending them both to the ground.

"Don't move." She gasped, out of breath while pulling out her dagger and pointing it to the elf's throat while looking over her shoulder at the other angry one.

Before she could start her demands for slacks a small bird started to fly around her chirping repeatedly.

"Not now Kevin, I'm in the middle of something." She sighed, trying to keep her intimidating image whilst speaking with a canary. "Kevin I swear to the bird gods I will... wait... what?"

Pepita's eyes widened as she slowly pulled her dagger back and climbed off the poor fragile man.

"You need to start running..." She narrowed her eyes while watching a large flock of startled birds fly out of the forest behind them.

[Muir]

Before he could get a swing at the offender, she was up a tree, and Muir glared up at the feral girl with the confused fury of a very stoned, very violated young man. "Who the––" he began, but before he could finish, Dalamus came trudging out of the woodwork and straight into the woman's clutches.

"Keep back," he warned the elf, but it was too late. Muir watched in awe as Pepita leapt from the tree like a panther to strike, her dagger swiftly poised at Dalamus' neck with stunning and lethal grace.

As quickly as the feral girl pounced, something interrupted, an unseen enemy sending torrents of birds and small wildlife their way. Muir dodged a frightened sparrow as it careened through the brush and up into the canopy, squirrels skittering past as he looked to Pepita. "What is it?" he demanded, but without hesitation she took flight, leaving them in the dust. "Shit!"

In a rare moment of compassion, Muir dragged Dalamus to his feet. "Come on," he urged, pulling him by the hand, but within a few steps he could already tell the elf was in poor shape. Chasing after his reckless client already pushed Dalamus to the limit and running from a mysterious predator certainly wasn't in the cards for the weak sap. "Fine. Get on," Muir sighed, motioning for the elf to climb on his back.

"No," Dalamus frowned, correcting his glasses. He then gave escape a good ol' college try, but before they got even a tenth of a mile through the forest, his poor lungs forced him to stop and take some deep breaths against the trunk of a tree.

"For fuck's sake," Muir groaned as he halted, looking back. He stomped over to the elf, bent over, and hoisted him over his shoulder without another word. There may have been some protests and struggling, but he decided he'd rather not die by getting lost, so that was that.

With his heavy cargo, the disoriented man ran through the brush in the direction Pepita flew, his eyes peeled for any potential hiding spots. Something big galloped up behind them, hooves fierce against the forest floor, and Muir dodged behind a cluster of trees. A large buck dashed past, its massive bulk tearing twigs and foliage away as it fled the encroacher, and Muir cursed some more.

[Rowako]

As Dalamus attempted to make a 180 into the foliage, so that Muir could get it done, his body was suddenly slammed into the forest floor. A faint whimper escaped Dalamus as he spat out a collection of multi-colored leaves. The weight above him shifted forward before the glint of a dull and well-worn blade caught his eye. "Take anything you want!" he shouted with his eyes squeezed shut. He waited for one of two things, either this feral woman would kill him or she would set him free. It seemed she chose the latter as less than a minute later she jumped off of him and scurried off into the forest. Her last words seemed dire and after a short-lived quarrel with Muir, Dalamus was scooped up and tossed over his shoulder.

"Damn, this is embarrassing," Dalamus thought to himself as he was stampeded through the woods. As delicate as Dalamus was, this sudden brush with this threatening yet unknown force was doing awful things to his complexion. Running past thorns and through wiry underbrush was scratching at his untainted skin. Would he scar?! As these self-important thoughts raced through his mind, Dalamus caught sight of a rope ladder. It took a few weak-fisted pummels into Muir's back before Dalamus caught his attention and directed him to turn back and climb the mystery ladder to... safety?