Ivern's Dank Adventures
Chapter 1: Picking up the goods
Well, time for a next chapterino. I think ill move the rating to M, because it'll get a bit inappropriate at times.
Ivern woke up with a start, immediatelly feeling the tingles on his ass. He also immediatelly felt his head connecting with a branch, as he began getting up,which resulted in him falling back down on the grass with a painful "Ow!"
"So much for being tall..." He thought to himself as he tried to ease the pain away by sheepishly rubbing his forehead. To be honest, he did not mind falling back down on the comfy grass. He loved and respected his sleep- Ivern always had the most fascinating of dreams. Well, except of that one time when he dreamt of naked Gromp. Needless to say, he was mentally scarred since that ordeal, and ripped his own eyes out, so he wouldn't see another frog again, which took an entire week for him to regrow. As he prepared to venture back to the sleeping world, something sat on his head:
"Aww hell nah ya don't, ya sleepy, lanky bastard. Get yar ass up or i'll unload right here, right now."
Meet Margaret. His long known friend. One of his good old companions. Also sort of a bitch.
"Oh come on Margy..." Ivern yawned, "Just like 5 more minutes. Go fly around, gather some food for your illegitimate kids or something."
"The fuck ya just said 'bout my little munchkins ya old bastard? Ya better take that back or I swear down I'll unload right on ya wrinkly face."
"Margaret, for the love of the Kumungu honey bees, 5 minutes is all I need. Please, being a guardian of life is a har-"
"Oh don't ya gimme that bullshit again. I'm givin' ya 5 seconds or I'lll unload the fucking toad" With that the little, yet surpsingly scary bird, lifted her bum in the air and prepared to "unload."
Ivern, upon hearing the word "toad", got a little less sleepy and a little more conscious, as his thoughts started to steer back to the naked image of Gromp. Suddenly, getting up didn't seem that much of a bad idea to him, since he didn't want to dream of that again.
"5..."
"Margaret, has 5 minutes of sleep done anybody any harm before?"
"4..."
"Margy, come on, I need this! Please!"
"3..."
"I-I'll treat you to some of the best wild blueberries, straight from my good source!"
"2..."
"He's a beaver called Wincent and has his own little blueberry farm down by the water strea-"
"Don't ya make me count to 1 ya rooty bastard! I swear to the God-Willow, I'll unload the toad, ya hear me? I'll unclog the frog, unroll the tadpole, uninhibit the bloody ribbit! I'LL UNBENCH THE FUCKING KENCH IVERN, YA HEAR ME?!"
"Oh dear, oh dear, what has got into her today (and everyday for that matter?) And why all these frog references?" Finally snapping out of his groggy state, partly because after hearing so much frog-related stuff he wasn't risking the chance of dreaming about Gromp again (but mainly because Margaret was a bitch) he smacked the bird off his face, slowly got up, cracking some stiff joints in the process, and set about on his morning routine.
"Oy! Ya can't just push me around like that, ya bastard!" Margy chirped, as she flew around the Green Father before finally settling down on his shoulder, in her little nest, where she usually resided.
Meanwhile Ivern made sure to do his stretches before going anywhere. Being a half-tree was nice and all, but it also came with some disadvantages, mainly stiff joints. After carefully popping, so as to not disturb the many residents that inhabited his body, and slowly cracking every stiff bone (branch?) he had (starting with the neck of course, so that he could fully observe the beauty of the morning forest) he embarked on his everyday, yet always new and creative, morning walk through the wilderness of the forest.
Ivern lived in the very central part of the Lightshine forest, one of the numerous forests that he has visited in his lifetime, so that he could quickly and efficiently go to anyone that desired his help (or his friendly company). His house, which wasn't exactly a house but more of a grassy field, partly hidden from view by bushes, trees and the like. It consisted of his leaf-pillow (which, in reality, where just leaves in a stack, but Ivern liked to call it a pillow) a little garden of daffodils and tulips, as well as an opening in the trees above him that he kept covered with branches in the day, so as not to get too warm from the sun, and un-covered during the night, so that he could stare at the beauty of the stars. However, it mainly consisted of a couple of shelves stuck to tree barks that he made from the wood of some dead Maple trees (he would never even dream of cutting a live tree down- the last time he did so was centuries ago). On them stood countless concoctions and mixtures alike, in little glassy containers that he gathered from humams that trespassed the forest.
Many of those humans were hunters, so in order to get them he had to search the leftover possesions that they dropped upon fleeing the forest (they always fled, one way or another, when coming face to face with the Bramblefoot). However, some were just lost merchants who happily traded some of their jars and glasses with Ivern, in exchange for directions and rare herbs. Many of them feared him at first and pleaded for their lives, but after being shown a friendly smile and offered some of Wincent's fresh, delicious blueberries, they usually calmed down a bit and were ready to do business with him, while others already knew him from tales and stories as the Bramblefoot and greeted him with warm gestures.
The truth was, Ivern was a human a long, long time ago. He almost completely forgot their culture, likes, and the general attitude of people. Even more so, he was often unnerved by their presence; the way they always took more than was necessary and didn't give back enough; the way they shaped the world around them based on their mischievious goals and desires; and mainly the way they were so cruel, doing as they damn pleased to the poor creatures of this world that he sought out so hard to protect. He didn't exactly despise humans, he too was once a human and they too were living creatures of this world, but he wasn't exactly on friendly terms with them either.
"So, ya old, wrinkly bastard, where ya taking us today, huh?"
"I'd just thought i'd stack up on some of Wincent's berries, i heard he was growing a new breed." He let out a chuckle, "anyway, why do you always call me a a bastard, huh, Margy?"
"Because ya an old, wrinkly bastard, ya old, wrinkly bastard.
Giving an exasperated, yet an amused, sigh at the respone, Ivern wandered forward from his little "house." The truth was, he rarely slept in it, always prefering the hospitality and company of other residents of the forest and, realistically speaking, he was a tree and could just root down into the earth and call it a night. Yet, he used to be a human and it seemed that old habits died hard after all. Anyhow, he was planning on wandering off again, maybe to another forest sometime soon, help out other creatures that needed it, but not quite yet.
However, there was something on his mind that he needed to clear. His butt felt tingly and every so often he felt a great need of scratching it. He had never felt this way before upon waking up, and judging from the fact that the only person around him that morning was Margaret, and the little squirrels that rested in the area that his scabbard used to reside (which he still had, all this time since the times he was a human) they were the only possible culprits.
Knowing the squirrels would never go to such means to wake him up, who did it was obvious:
"Margaret"
"What ya want ya bastard?"
"Did you happen to bite my ass or something?"
At that Margaret blushed slightly: "I only did it to wake ya up ya ungrateful bastard!"
"You're such a perverted bird."
"Well at least I ain't da one seductively shouting Daisy's name in mah sleep."
At that Ivern blushed slightly: "Ye? Well at least i get to bang, you ugly bitch."
"Pffftt, hahaha and how'd ya think I got me lovely kids? Ya such an idiot!"
"Well that just makes you a whore!"
"You take that back golemfucker!"
As their daily bickering continued, they made continued on their path to Wincent's. During the journey to the beaver, Ivern was greeted by every denizen of the forest that he happened to stumble upon (he was very popular with almost all the living beings, after all). It was good because he didn't have to listen to the bitch-bird's voice all the time:
"Hey Ivern!"
"Why, hello there little dendron mushrooms! I hope the weather is up to your liking."
"Hey Ivern!"
"Hey hey, little lippertick apples! I hope you're growing just fine!
"Hey Ivern!"
"A rather good morning ain't it, Miss. Wood Mouse? I hope the seeds and grains are good this season."
And so forth and so forth. It did distract him from listening to Margaret, but after a while it was getting tiring. After another hundred of "Hey Ivern!" his responses turned a into mere "Hey" and "Hi." Not that he held a grudge against the little animals and plants or anything, it was just that he didn't have his usual energy for it. He did value his sleep after all. Maybe if he got the little 5 extra minutes of sleep he wouldn't be...damn Margaret.
As he approached the clearing of the forest, which led to the Rocky Hills, behind which stood the beaver's lake house, Ivern was met by one the last denizens of the forest: The Black Fungus.
"Hey Ivern!"
The Treant, be it from Margaret's constant yapping or the fact that he was too occupied thinking about Wincent's goodies, did not hear the little Fungus and solely past him without so much as a glance. The little Fungus, who's name was Boston, did not take it lightly. The Green Father, his role model, his fucking master, the protector and most valued member of their forest just dismissed him like that. As Ivern walked through the bushes and went out of sight, Boston's eyes flared with rage as he let out the most wicked laugh possible for a fungus...
...one day he would become the greatest evil in all of Runeterra.
"Are we there yet?"
"Not quite yet."
"Are we there yet?"
"No"
"Are we there yet, ya old, wrinkly bastard?"
To say that Ivern was getting irritated by the incessant rant of the bitch-bird was an understatement. He was slowly getting pissed off and very soon he wouldn't be afraid to show it.
"Almost...there...Margaret" Ivern spoke through his clenched teeth, trying his very best to hold his composure.
*30 second later*
"Are we there yet?"
That did it.
"Margaret, i swear upon the thousand sunflowers of the Northern Fields, that if you don't SHUT THE F-"
"Heya Ives"
Snapping out of his angered trance and looking into the direction that the voice came from, he noticed his long-know friend, standing next to his little beaver hut. Ivern was overjoyed that he wouldn't have to listen to Margaret's croaky voice anymore.
"Wincent! Long time no see my little fella, how's the wife? Tell me everything!"
"Ah she ain"t too bad...too bad. Why don't you come inside, i was just about to have some tea."
The beaver's hut was entirely made out of wood, with long, strong supporting planks holding the entire structure in place so it would not fall into the water. The hut was built in the middle of the lake, with a wooden bridge connecting it to the shore. The bridge stopped around 5 meters before the hut itself and left a gap. It wasn't a problem for the beaver as he just swam over and climbed the ladder on the other side, while Ivern just rootcalled over. One might think this was for protection purposes, but it was mainly because Wincent preffered solitude.
After having their tea, which consisted of coffee, rasberry brownies and bananaberries, (Wincent had every type of berries ever) they sat around on wooden stools on the little terrace that Wincent's hut had. After politely accepting a cigar made by the famous Graves company, how the beaver got hold of them is a mystery, and giving one to Margaret too, him and the Wincent got right into business:
"So Ives, you have been my client for a long time now *puff puff* so I grew for you a little something extra this time"
"Lemonberries?" The beaver shook his head, "hmm *puff puff* Melonberries!"
"Nah-ah" Wincent only smiled mischieviously, the berries he grew were a totally new kind, Ivern would never guess.
"If it's better than Melonberries *puff puff*...it could only be BERRYBERRIES!" With that Ivern stood up triumphantly, knowing he got the beaver in his grasp.
"Haha, it's better if i *puff puff* just show you." And with that Wincent got up, went back into the house, and came back 2 minutes later with a little bag of what seemed to be some green berries. The smell was absolutely amazing and Ivern was getting hungry already.
"Here my man, take these, they're on the house this time, so *puff puff* you don't have to give me the Fire flowers or the green-feathered moss." Wincent gave a cheeky smile to Ivern as he handed him the goods.
"Wow thanks dude *puff puff* also please don't call me a man, i don't like being associated with humans. Anyway *puff puff* why are you giving me these for free?" Ivern asked rather perplexed by the beaver's generosity.
"Sorry Ives and let's just say, I need someone to test their rich goodness first *puff puff* before taking them on the market."
As they parted their ways with polite goodbyes, and thank yous since Wincent let them keep the cigars, Margaret eyed both the beaver and the berries rather skeptically. She knew something was up but, being the bitch-bird she was, didn't bother warning Ivern. As they were about to get off the bridge and onto the shore, the beaver smiled and whispered to himself:
"Don't even trip bro."
(Somewhere, in another world, in another place, a little tear rolls down Graves' face...)