One Moo'r Plow

To say it wasn’t pretty would be a bald-faced lie. Even in the moonlight, my poor vision could see much of the damage that had been wrought. There were fires to be put out, first and foremost. I left Gol in Ishila’s hands and hurriedly stomped about, from one flame to the next.

The fires cackled with glee, happily devouring what I had built with so much sweat and effort. But such was the nature of flame.

Or something like that. I had little interest in the philosophical quandaries about the nature of the world and only gave two singular fucks about how quickly I could extinguish them.

I kicked dirt onto smaller flames, tossed a lit fencepost into the stream, and generally proceeded to extinguish all fiery life I could get my hands on. The creatures had made liberal use of firebombs, and my farm suffered for their enthusiasm.

The sheer pissed-off factor of the moos that came from the pasture was not lost on me. Dead beasts were ground into bloody pulp as the taur-cows stomped over them, enraged by their presence and stung by arrows. The lone surviving horse huddled in their midst, protected by walls of angry cow-flesh.

The other horse was a casualty of this attack, I confirmed. Knelt next to the warm corpse, I could do little but confirm its death. Even copious amounts of potions could not revive what was already dead. A deep, tired sigh in my throat, I rose and trudged on.

All I wanted was to be left alone, I lamented. To farm in peace.

How many times would I have to go through this very scene before anything changed?

A hard, cold edge formed in my thoughts as I looked around at the destruction that had been visited upon me and mine.

But combat had left a weight across my shoulders, and fatigue whispered my name. I tiredly mended the fences where the wire had been torn down and leaned snapped posts back up. And through it all, I weaved around corpses, the stench of blood thick in the air.

And through it all, anger bubbled inside. A melting pot of emotions was stirred within, and there was one flavor that overrode the rest.

But soon, tiredness meant I could function no longer. Gol would be fine, Ishila assured me. Wounded, hurt and would be in pain for a while, but fine. Much as I trusted her word, I was not content with it alone. Bloodstained claymore in hand, I collapsed next to them, my back to a tree. And soon, my eyes were pulled closed and sleep took hold.

The simmering anger returned as soon as I woke. I blinked and realized the sun was already halfway towards noon. I had slept deep and dreamless, held down by exhaustion. It was a funny thing. I could work hard all day, but some combat and a light spot of bloodshed demanded rest.

Or was it the system that induced sleep whenever new levels came? That was food for thought. Eyes encrusted, I blinked, yawned and looked around. Gol lay next to me, head in his paws. Whines of pain drifted from his jaws, and a wince rose from my throat as I looked at him. Still stained in blood, every exposed spot of skin seemed pink and raw. An effect of fresh regeneration, I assumed. The man who had foolishly wandered into my crops had been much the same.

If there were any similarities between then and now, my brave beast would not be moving much for the next several days. But he deserved his rest, I thought with a sad smile. I would have given him some scratches behind the ear, but the skin there looked particularly raw.

Ishila was not alone, I found. With a grunt, I hauled myself up, grimaced at the dried blood on my blade and trudged over to the two.

Le’rish was crouched to examine a corpse and only spared me a glance. Knife in hand, she used the blade to lift a monster’s head and grunted.

“Stonemongers,” She grunted. “Was just a matter of time. Before they were pushed. Down the mountain.”

She spoke in even shorter, more clipped bursts than usual. Her clothes had blood on them as well, I saw. I wasn’t the only one whom the beasts had paid a visit.

“Why now?” I asked grumpily. Though I already suspected some of the answer.

“Already down here. Already amassed,” She shrugged and flipped the head over. “Just needed a spark. Riders moved in. They went crazy.”

“Single Stonemonger. Not much of a threat. Stays by itself. Lurks around. Maybe harasses weak animals. But a coward.” She coughed and grimaced. With a grunt, the huntress rocked back on her heels and straightened.

“But they ain’t loners,” Ishila remarked. “You never see em alone.”

Le’rish idly kicked at a decapitated head and nodded. And looked closer, and noted the shoulders were stilled attached. Wonderful. Ishila’s handiwork, as I didn’t remember doing that. But my memories were a blurred haze of anger and bloodshed anyhow.

“True.” The huntress continued. “Group up. Get brave. Strength in numbers. Bigger groups attract more. Till they’re a screeching mob. Affects their thinking. Their actions.”

“And then they decided to show up and burn my farm.” I spoke bluntly, arms crossed. “Wow.”

“Pretty much. They’re brave in numbers. Crude and intelligent. Enough brains for weapons and tools.” We walked across the corpse-scattered field as Le’rish led the way. “But no one ever accused them of being smart.”

“What drew them here, in particular?” I grimaced. “I’m just another farm down the mountain.”

“You’re not.” The woman spat in the dirt. “Don’t delude yourself. Lots of system-touched animals. Plants. All calling to the monsters. Amazed they stayed away this long.”

I looked around at the destruction, a sunken feeling in my gut. There was little comfort in the knowledge that I had single-handedly driven off a horde just hours ago now. A target was painted squarely on my farm, on my home.

‘What are the chances they’ll stay away?” I asked, the desperation in my voice hidden.

“For a small while. They will. Lick their wounds. Cower in fear. Then they’ll forget. Grow bold. Come to sniff again.”

Ishila stopped and cocked her head, her eyes locked on the fields. I followed her gaze, and found only empty dirt, battered crops and scarecrows.

“What if we erected larger something more..ominous?” She queried. “Scarecrows, but, ya’know, bigger. A few stonemonger corpses here and there.”

“Would work. For a bit. Deter them. But they’re greedy in groups. They’ll raid again. Will just be more of them.”

“And if I’m not content to sit and wait for the horde to return?”

“Well then. There are options.”

What little remained of the morning was spent on mass corpse disposal. The biter pods did not feast, they engorged themselves on flesh, bone, and hide. Le’rish found no use for the corpses herself, and was content to help drag them to the fields.

Artyom looked to be a cross between horrified and enthralled as he carried severed limbs. Eyes stretched wide, he watched the biters tear an arm to shreds, then stumbled backward as they turned to him.

“Don’ get too close, or they’ll have themselves a morsel.” Ishila warned, not a drop of humor in her voice.

Let them feast till the burst, I decided. What remained could always be desposed of later. There was a plant missing, I realized. The flytrap with the serpentine tongue had disappeared from where it had been planted. But as I watched, a green mouth burrowed from the ground beneath a corpse. Large jaws wriggled out from either side of the corpse and spread wide as fluid gurgled with the spread mouth.

I kept an eye on that as I hauled away more corpses, and witnessed it slowly dissolve over time. Until it was naught but a half-liquid slurry that the monster plant gulped down.

Most brutal of all were the bodies that lay around the bomb plants. Pieces were simply missing with messy holes blown through bodies. I grimaced, decided not to look too closely, and pulled them away. Didn’t need any more nightmares to keep me up at night.

Le’rish helped quietly, only occasionally answering awkward questions from Ishila. Her breaks were plentiful, however. She sat and smoked a blue haze periodically, her face a grimace all the while.

Out of all the carnage, my monster plants had not escaped undamaged, however. The grape-like vines of what I had deemed the absorber plant hung loosely, torn by stonemonger claws. But behind it, I saw the glow of another plant.

The single, rigid sunflower that had grown amidst the other shone now, and its light was radiant.

I watched plants physically mend in it’s glow, and sat back, astonished. The plant was a cleric. Harsh was the laughter that escaped my throat. Out of all the monsters I had grown so far, one was a healer. Carefully, I plucked a single petal and held it near the torn mimicvine. The grape-like bulbs turned towards it, and I watched it absorb the petal.

The effect was immediate.

Yellow color spread throughout the vines, and bulbs turned from deathly white to pale gold.

In the midst of the destruction and carnage, I had found something that could mend. Could heal. Restore the broken and torn. There was something almost..poetic in that. I was not one to place much stock is fate, but this was something grand.

I looked over my shoulder to where Le’rish sat, deep in her sour vapours. She coughed and chatted with Ishila with puffs of haze.

Perhaps.

The day had started in death and destruction, but it did not need to end tarnished by the memory of such. Something good could still come from it.

I reached out, plucked several petals and stood. I could walk over right now and give them to her. But another, better idea presented itself. With a wave, I beckoned Ishila over and turned my back. The lass stood and wandered over, curious. I could see and smell the awkwardness mount as I explained my idea. The butterflies in her stomach were no doubt rampant as she finally turned and made her way back.

I watched, the smile on my face hidden. This was my thanks to both of them, for separate reasons. Only a fool could not see that ishila was smitten by the huntress, but too shy to actually do anything. I watched as the orc girl awkwardly approached and held out the petals to Le’rish.

The feline huntress looked at them curiously as Ishila muttered an explanation. She took one, looked at it strangely, then cautiously put it in her mouth.

Nothing happened.

For a moment. Then the woman spat out the dull, spent petal and grabbed the rest. With trembling hands, she dropped the rest into her mouth and collapsed backwards in her seat. It took me a moment to realize she was laughing. A full, giddy sound.

There was a smile on my face as Le’rish hauled herself up, grabbed Ishila and swept the blushing girl off her feet.

The smile on her face was the purest I had ever seen. Just pure, unbridled happiness as she spun the orc lass around and yelled with joy, her lungs healed.

And I was satisfied, happy in the knowledge that something good had come of this day. Even disasters had a silver lining, if one searched deeply enough.

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