Oneshots! (Mostly Hermitcraft)

The Pickaxe [Iskall, Grian, Mumbo, + Scar]

This one is all about your mental picture. Have fun.

^-^

"Ok, so the pickaxe."

"Yes, the pickaxe."

"Do you know how to use it?"

"No?"

"Mumbo, we've been over this!"

"Don't you just wack things with it?"

"No! A pickaxe is a fine tool with specific uses! You don't just hit random things!" Iskall slapped his forehead with his hand.

The object in question was sitting on the crafting bench in front of them, innocently waiting to be used. The only problem was that its user had no clue what he was doing. It's funny what a month off can do, especially about using tools.

"Mumbo, listen. You grab the handle -- no, that's the head -- and you -- here, let me show you."

Iskall pulled out his own pickaxe, demonstrating how he held it and used it to break blocks of stone and granite. Mumbo watched curiously, no doubt confused at what Iskall was going on about. The suited redstoner watched in bewilderment as Iskall broke a block of cobble. The Swede replaced the block and gestured for Mumbo to try. He picked up the tool and swung it at the block, only to miss completely.

Hysterical laughter broke out from the side as Grian poked his head through the bushes surrounding Mumbo's overgrown vault, just in time to see Mumbo miss. He pushed through the leaves, shaking off his wings as he came through the hedge of plants.

"Listen, Mumbo," the builder began. "You hold the pickaxe with the middle of your index finger no more than four-seventeenths of the length of the whole tool from the end of the hilt. A little bit less could work as well, but the efficiency isn't as high."

"Grian, where did you learn these numbers?" Iskall inquired.

The Watcher ignored him, golden wings flashing in the sunlight as he positioned Mumbo's hand. "Alright, remember this position. No more than four-seventeenths, alright?"

"Grian, seventeen isn't exactly an easy number to divide," Mumbo complained.

"Well, I could tell you to hold it twenty-eight one-hundred-nineteenths from the end, but that doesn't help much, does it?"

"How can you call redstone complicated? You're breaking my brian, dude!"

"The usage of a pickaxe is a precise art. It takes time a practice."

"You don't have the patience to practice!"

"That fact can be discarded as irrevelant."

Mumbo buried his face in his hand as Iskall struggled to not laugh. Grian looked at the two of them, somehow keeping a straight face through it all. He gestured for Mumbo to find the right spot on his pickaxe again, going through it several times until the redstoner could find it slightly easier.

"Now for the swing, Mumbo."

"Oh goodness. Can you just let me try?"

"Sure, go ahead." The redstoner moved his arm a half-inch. "Wait, no, stop, stop, stop. You're not supposed to bring your arm straight up like that. It needs to be circular movement behind you."

Mumbo brought his arm around. "Nope, it needs to be more to the side a little bit. Try forty-five degrees? Oh no, that's too far behind. Sixty-five? A little more? There we go, precisely sixty-seven degrees from straight back is perfect for you."

Mumbo sighed. "Grian, what's the point of this?"

"I want to make sure your pickaxe stroke is as perfect as it can be."

"It feels like you're just messing with me."

"What? No! Well, it may be part of the reason."

Iskall burst out laughing as Grian's poker face twitched. Mumbo looked at the two of them before joining in on the laughter. Soon, the gremlin broke his act, giggling hysterically. When they finally calmed down, Grian pulled out a piece of cobblestone.

"Want to go explain cobblestone to Scar?"

:+:
This timeskip was brought to you courtesy of the Preservation of the Guppy Geyser Movement
:+:

"Hey Scar!" Grian called as they located the elf working on the interior of his cookie empire industrial area.

Scar screamed when Grian snuck up behind him, tripping over a shulker box. He took several deep breaths, sitting down on the box he had fallen on top of. The builder looked intently at Grian, his green gaze searching for and failing to find the reason for why the Watcher was there.

"What's up, Grian?" he asked, trying to figure out why Grian had surprised him.

"Nothing much. I just wanted to explain cobblestone to you."

"Ohhkay? I kind of-"

"Perfect! Now you see, cobblestone appears to be quite the simple block. However, this can be especially deceiving to the novice."

"Grian, I'm-"

"Now, you must be aware of the different varieties one can find cobblestone in. You can often find it textured as smooth stone, deep slate, and other forms of naturally occurring rocks. These forms can additionally be turned into slabs, stairs, and multiple different trigger points for redstone."

Scar facepalmed. "Grian, I'm sure I know what cobblestone is."

"Cobblestone can be attained by mining with an ordinary pickaxe, however, the silk touch enchantment kills its beautiful texture. Of course, the various textures can be used to attain varying degrees of decoration and patterns when used carefully and wisely.

"When using cobblestone, you must be sure that you are with easy access to TNT, as it really does look better when blown up. Be sure that you do not leave massive, flat expanses of it, as those tend to be atrocities to the eyes and abominations to players. Rather, the choppy terrain presented by TNT provides a pleasing form of decoration to your average wasteland biome."

Scar looked at Grian, confused. The Watcher grinned, stopping his rambling as the elf tried to process the words just said. Scar shook his head before going back to his building. Grian paused.

"Hey Scar, do you wanna watch Mumbo use a pickaxe with me?"

^-^

And so the cycle continues lol

I definitely didn't lose motivation halfway through writing this. I thought it would be pretty funny, but I'll let you be the judge of that. My humor isn't exactly accepted by society, lol.

Anywho, that's the fluff. I'm going back to angst. Maybe more comedy to come, but I don't know... Not angst = fluff.

Ciao for now!