Honey Heist Pt. 1 | Bittersweet Return | Rebekah Bourg
General Summary
Eskihaugr lay in thralls of ever-darkening doom which dimmed the sun even at high noon and silenced the mirth of woodland creatures. Full one year had passed since every soul in Eskihaugr had found themselves transported, they knew not how, to a place and time far distant and transformed in form and feature from Vikings, masters and terrors of the sea, to ravenous bears. Since their hard-won return, every day at noon, all the people beat drums to honor the fallen. On this somber day of remembrance, a woman, wizened with age and worn with grief, spoke of her three grandsons who were last seen in the land of coffee and minivans. She earnestly besought all who heard to search out a way to find her descendants and return them to her.
Then spake Bearida the Washed-up: Your grandsons are lost, wise Elder. Surely you remember that land of confusion. Only the most fortunate survive that place, and good fortune forsook this people the day we were transformed into beasts. Morn your grandsons, but look for them not.
Bereft of family and hope, the woman turned back, weeping, to her deserted hearth. Liv the Unhinged continued drumming long after the others had ceased, shouting warnings of doom to all who were near, but none heeded her speech. Though beloved by all, she was rumored a witch and duly avoided. Barry the Slick circulated through Eskihaugr, swindling his neighbors and stealing provisions in preparation for winter, secreting his plunder in the manifold pockets of his coat. As Barry used words, Bearoness the Retired leveraged her looks, obtaining what provisions she deemed necessary for improving the dumpster which was her abode by enchanting her quarry with inarguable adorableness. Sora the Rookie ate. She had entered the village at the time of return from the future and was in truth a bear, but at the time of return, all had been bears, so none noticed. Now she lived quietly in a cave outside the village and spent her days foraging. Byrond the Incompetent sleepily surveyed these goings on from his door, mustering his slow strength for a journey to the great hall.
As sun passed beyond the horizon and darkness descended more fully upon Eskihaugr, the inhabitants gathered in the great hall to honor their fallen and celebrate their own return. No expense was spared on this unsurpassed occasion, and tables groaned beneath their loads of venison, roasted boar, honeyed yak steaks, turducken, salt-encrusted sea bass, sushi dripping with eel sauce, barley bread drizzled with honey, white bread, stone-ground wheat bread, exotic seedless jam, honey-glazed nuts, yams, carrots, rutabagas, and thin-sliced potatoes fried to crisp perfection. Song and drink flowed freely and tales of valor were told. So tantalizing was the aroma that even the reclusive Bearida came to partake of the plentiful victuals and observe all the town folk.
Byrond ate steadily all that was brought to him, unhindered by the choking spasms brought on by swallowing fish bones, for he consumed the fish whole. Barry kept him well supplied with all manner of food, carefully concealing a week’s supply within the folds of his robe. Liv the unhinged recounted tales of woe to those around her, terrifying children with her dire predictions punctuated by hiccups. Bearoness fared sumptuously, basking in the warmth of the great hall, and even condescended to aid Byrond with a firm blow to the back to keep him from choking. In a corner of the hall, Sora sat alone, eating ravenously and thinking, as well as a bear may think, that humans weren’t so bad when they thought she was one of their own. That night, songs were sung of the valiant warriors who, undaunted by their beastly transformation, had pillaged a great stronghold and obtained honey mead for the restoration of their people and had slain their foes with the deadly minivan.
In the predawn, many were awakened by a wordless call. Alone in her solitary hut, Bearida heard the foreboding silence of the forest. Taking to heart the dread warnings of Liv, Bearida honed her many blades and, heavily armed, ventured into the forest to seek out the source of the disquieting quiet. A form appeared in the distance, but vanished ere she could reach it, leaving no trace nor track. She forged ahead, and soon apricity rent the fog asunder, revealing ruins drifted with soot and snow. Not one soul remained of its former inhabitants, and Bearida walked heavy-hearted back to Eskihaugr, bearing a jar of honey retrieved from the ruins.
Sora awoke that morning untroubled by human care, and set out in search of breakfast. She discovered a road, and presently a wagon laden with honey bread came into view. A symbol was emblazoned on the wagon’s side and on the boxed it contained, but true bears care nothing for human signs. As it passed, she mounted it and set to feasting on the bread. The drivers were careless of their passenger and continued their journey to the village.
Bearoness emerged from her dumpster and stretched luxuriously in the morning pall, flicked a few pieces of debris from her clothing, then went to the river to wash. The frigid water was invigorating, and the touch of an unseen monster was even more so. Terror seized her and she scrambled to the shore. Looking back, she glimpsed a creature receding into the depths. No monster is suffered long to live in Viking waters, and Bearoness set about constructing a fishing pole. Her efforts were in vain, her hands pierced by many splinters. Undaunted, she obtained a fishing pole from her neighbor and asked if he had seen the monster. He reported catching three fish. Impatient with this answer, Bearoness replied: Three fish is not a sea monster!
A ship was drawn upon the shore, and Bearoness purposed to sail out to seek the unknown foe. A crew she would need, and quickly she recruited Byrond, who willingly left off painting his house, for the paint had hardened and would not adhere to the house. Now he blundered about the ship, tangling lines with anchor chain, locking the rudder, building a fort of the secondary sail, and disproportionately redistributing the ballasts in a vain attempt to prepare to sail. Bearoness then asked Liv to accompany her on her quest to find the beast lurking beneath the waves.
I think it’ll probably be a doomed voyage and we’ll all die. But I’m game for it if you are.
Ere Liv could give reply, Bearida entered town and, gesturing toward the razed village, spake with the elders in the hearing of all: Doom is that way. Make what preparations you will. Fear smote Liv as she heard of this new terror and harkened back to the eerie call which had sounded the night before, and saw a man wasted by disease walk past. The doom she long had foretold was now coming upon them. But deeds are no less valorous though they be done in vain. Boldly the unhinged Viking spake: He’ll be dead within four and twenty hours. Doomed voyage, sea serpent. Let’s go.
Bearoness next recruited Bearida and Barry to join in the quest. Hearing excited voices, Sora also joined, knowing not to what end. Much labor was required to prepare the ship, and once all was set to rights, the company rested in Liv’s house and drank a strange brew called coffee. The house was round, its walls of thick wattle and its roof curiously peaked in the center, high above the deep eaves. It was said to look like a witch’s hat, though none knew why, nor thought to ask. Always the silence bore heavily upon them, and now several of the company began growing abundant hair all over themselves. Barry held his hands over the fire to singe off the hairs, growling as he did, but succeeded only in burning his hands. Lifting his head from his labor, he let out a growl of surprise and sprang into the rafters to defend against the bears which suddenly surrounded him. Unknowingly, all had been transformed into bears, their hides thick and hair long. Sora now spoke plainly, though none recalled any word before uttered by her. As they considered this calamity, Byrond, wearied of words, rested beside the hearth, and Bearoness rested upon him as upon a bearskin rug.
Snarling suddenly, Barry launched himself through the thatch and vanquished a flying foe he had glimpsed without. Bearida snatched the drone, berating Barry for the destruction of what might provide insight to their plight.
Calling for quiet, Liv led the band of bears to a home where sat a panda, ponderously consuming bamboo. Pointing to the symbol emblazoned on the drone, the panda proclaimed that it had carried food hither and would carry them all away as it had her grandsons. She spoke no more, for her mind was lost to sorrow. Sora knew it to be the symbol from the bread wagon, but kept silent.
With skill unlearned and unknown, Bearida mended the drone and enquired its origin, maker, and purpose. In irksome tones, the machine replied that it hailed from the neighboring village and existed to protect the honey which would cure, but what it cured, the drone said not. Barry pulled a telescope from a fold in his hide and surveyed yon village, espying two more drones hovering near their fallen companion. The band presented their findings to the chief, who dismissed them, saying that they had been restored to Viking form before and would be so again, despite doom foretold by a mad woman and her unhinged daughter. Sore vexed at this slight, Bearoness bared her fangs and lunged at the chieftain’s legs, but he kicked her aside and ordered they desist.
Wroth at their misfortune, the companions journeyed in human attire to the village from whence came the honey bread and drones. Nary a sound was to be heard save from the People’s Hall, thus, entering in, trusting mightily in guise and cunning, the band came upon a great feast mixed of sorrow and good cheer. Three stalwart knaves garbed in Kenneth Cole mingled with mail-clad Vikings. All the assemblage o’er and o’er raised horn and flagon and cheered Hector, their new chief, and Hedda, his bride. Again, they hailed his father who, that morn had gone the way of no return.
Then Liv bethought her of her own mother yet mourning the loss of kin, and hasting to the widow’s side offered words of comfort. Byrond lumbered under a table mounded with honey-rich desserts and bore it away with ponderous strength. Then all the companions gathered round to feast and lay their plans. These plans immediately went awry when out the gathered Vikings stormed and with angry shouts surrounded them. These are none of ours, spake Hector to his men. Nor are they men at all, but loathsome bears.
Then spake Bearida the Washed-up: Your grandsons are lost, wise Elder. Surely you remember that land of confusion. Only the most fortunate survive that place, and good fortune forsook this people the day we were transformed into beasts. Morn your grandsons, but look for them not.
Bereft of family and hope, the woman turned back, weeping, to her deserted hearth. Liv the Unhinged continued drumming long after the others had ceased, shouting warnings of doom to all who were near, but none heeded her speech. Though beloved by all, she was rumored a witch and duly avoided. Barry the Slick circulated through Eskihaugr, swindling his neighbors and stealing provisions in preparation for winter, secreting his plunder in the manifold pockets of his coat. As Barry used words, Bearoness the Retired leveraged her looks, obtaining what provisions she deemed necessary for improving the dumpster which was her abode by enchanting her quarry with inarguable adorableness. Sora the Rookie ate. She had entered the village at the time of return from the future and was in truth a bear, but at the time of return, all had been bears, so none noticed. Now she lived quietly in a cave outside the village and spent her days foraging. Byrond the Incompetent sleepily surveyed these goings on from his door, mustering his slow strength for a journey to the great hall.
As sun passed beyond the horizon and darkness descended more fully upon Eskihaugr, the inhabitants gathered in the great hall to honor their fallen and celebrate their own return. No expense was spared on this unsurpassed occasion, and tables groaned beneath their loads of venison, roasted boar, honeyed yak steaks, turducken, salt-encrusted sea bass, sushi dripping with eel sauce, barley bread drizzled with honey, white bread, stone-ground wheat bread, exotic seedless jam, honey-glazed nuts, yams, carrots, rutabagas, and thin-sliced potatoes fried to crisp perfection. Song and drink flowed freely and tales of valor were told. So tantalizing was the aroma that even the reclusive Bearida came to partake of the plentiful victuals and observe all the town folk.
Byrond ate steadily all that was brought to him, unhindered by the choking spasms brought on by swallowing fish bones, for he consumed the fish whole. Barry kept him well supplied with all manner of food, carefully concealing a week’s supply within the folds of his robe. Liv the unhinged recounted tales of woe to those around her, terrifying children with her dire predictions punctuated by hiccups. Bearoness fared sumptuously, basking in the warmth of the great hall, and even condescended to aid Byrond with a firm blow to the back to keep him from choking. In a corner of the hall, Sora sat alone, eating ravenously and thinking, as well as a bear may think, that humans weren’t so bad when they thought she was one of their own. That night, songs were sung of the valiant warriors who, undaunted by their beastly transformation, had pillaged a great stronghold and obtained honey mead for the restoration of their people and had slain their foes with the deadly minivan.
In the predawn, many were awakened by a wordless call. Alone in her solitary hut, Bearida heard the foreboding silence of the forest. Taking to heart the dread warnings of Liv, Bearida honed her many blades and, heavily armed, ventured into the forest to seek out the source of the disquieting quiet. A form appeared in the distance, but vanished ere she could reach it, leaving no trace nor track. She forged ahead, and soon apricity rent the fog asunder, revealing ruins drifted with soot and snow. Not one soul remained of its former inhabitants, and Bearida walked heavy-hearted back to Eskihaugr, bearing a jar of honey retrieved from the ruins.
Sora awoke that morning untroubled by human care, and set out in search of breakfast. She discovered a road, and presently a wagon laden with honey bread came into view. A symbol was emblazoned on the wagon’s side and on the boxed it contained, but true bears care nothing for human signs. As it passed, she mounted it and set to feasting on the bread. The drivers were careless of their passenger and continued their journey to the village.
Bearoness emerged from her dumpster and stretched luxuriously in the morning pall, flicked a few pieces of debris from her clothing, then went to the river to wash. The frigid water was invigorating, and the touch of an unseen monster was even more so. Terror seized her and she scrambled to the shore. Looking back, she glimpsed a creature receding into the depths. No monster is suffered long to live in Viking waters, and Bearoness set about constructing a fishing pole. Her efforts were in vain, her hands pierced by many splinters. Undaunted, she obtained a fishing pole from her neighbor and asked if he had seen the monster. He reported catching three fish. Impatient with this answer, Bearoness replied: Three fish is not a sea monster!
A ship was drawn upon the shore, and Bearoness purposed to sail out to seek the unknown foe. A crew she would need, and quickly she recruited Byrond, who willingly left off painting his house, for the paint had hardened and would not adhere to the house. Now he blundered about the ship, tangling lines with anchor chain, locking the rudder, building a fort of the secondary sail, and disproportionately redistributing the ballasts in a vain attempt to prepare to sail. Bearoness then asked Liv to accompany her on her quest to find the beast lurking beneath the waves.
I think it’ll probably be a doomed voyage and we’ll all die. But I’m game for it if you are.
Ere Liv could give reply, Bearida entered town and, gesturing toward the razed village, spake with the elders in the hearing of all: Doom is that way. Make what preparations you will. Fear smote Liv as she heard of this new terror and harkened back to the eerie call which had sounded the night before, and saw a man wasted by disease walk past. The doom she long had foretold was now coming upon them. But deeds are no less valorous though they be done in vain. Boldly the unhinged Viking spake: He’ll be dead within four and twenty hours. Doomed voyage, sea serpent. Let’s go.
Bearoness next recruited Bearida and Barry to join in the quest. Hearing excited voices, Sora also joined, knowing not to what end. Much labor was required to prepare the ship, and once all was set to rights, the company rested in Liv’s house and drank a strange brew called coffee. The house was round, its walls of thick wattle and its roof curiously peaked in the center, high above the deep eaves. It was said to look like a witch’s hat, though none knew why, nor thought to ask. Always the silence bore heavily upon them, and now several of the company began growing abundant hair all over themselves. Barry held his hands over the fire to singe off the hairs, growling as he did, but succeeded only in burning his hands. Lifting his head from his labor, he let out a growl of surprise and sprang into the rafters to defend against the bears which suddenly surrounded him. Unknowingly, all had been transformed into bears, their hides thick and hair long. Sora now spoke plainly, though none recalled any word before uttered by her. As they considered this calamity, Byrond, wearied of words, rested beside the hearth, and Bearoness rested upon him as upon a bearskin rug.
Snarling suddenly, Barry launched himself through the thatch and vanquished a flying foe he had glimpsed without. Bearida snatched the drone, berating Barry for the destruction of what might provide insight to their plight.
Calling for quiet, Liv led the band of bears to a home where sat a panda, ponderously consuming bamboo. Pointing to the symbol emblazoned on the drone, the panda proclaimed that it had carried food hither and would carry them all away as it had her grandsons. She spoke no more, for her mind was lost to sorrow. Sora knew it to be the symbol from the bread wagon, but kept silent.
With skill unlearned and unknown, Bearida mended the drone and enquired its origin, maker, and purpose. In irksome tones, the machine replied that it hailed from the neighboring village and existed to protect the honey which would cure, but what it cured, the drone said not. Barry pulled a telescope from a fold in his hide and surveyed yon village, espying two more drones hovering near their fallen companion. The band presented their findings to the chief, who dismissed them, saying that they had been restored to Viking form before and would be so again, despite doom foretold by a mad woman and her unhinged daughter. Sore vexed at this slight, Bearoness bared her fangs and lunged at the chieftain’s legs, but he kicked her aside and ordered they desist.
Wroth at their misfortune, the companions journeyed in human attire to the village from whence came the honey bread and drones. Nary a sound was to be heard save from the People’s Hall, thus, entering in, trusting mightily in guise and cunning, the band came upon a great feast mixed of sorrow and good cheer. Three stalwart knaves garbed in Kenneth Cole mingled with mail-clad Vikings. All the assemblage o’er and o’er raised horn and flagon and cheered Hector, their new chief, and Hedda, his bride. Again, they hailed his father who, that morn had gone the way of no return.
Then Liv bethought her of her own mother yet mourning the loss of kin, and hasting to the widow’s side offered words of comfort. Byrond lumbered under a table mounded with honey-rich desserts and bore it away with ponderous strength. Then all the companions gathered round to feast and lay their plans. These plans immediately went awry when out the gathered Vikings stormed and with angry shouts surrounded them. These are none of ours, spake Hector to his men. Nor are they men at all, but loathsome bears.
Report Date
24 May 2025