One Moo'r Plow

Ishila yawned behind one hand and gazed skeptically at the crude plans I had drawn up. The orc lass’s eyes were half-closed, drooping from a distinct lack of sleep. Or such was my guess. What exactly kept her awake long into the wee hours of the morning was not something I was privy to, nor felt the need to ask. If her fatigued state bothered her overmuch, it wasn’t displayed overmuch. She had shown up, done her chores, and immediately sagged against a fencepost and purveyed the blueprint I had spent the night assembling.

“Just the two of us?” She grumbled and rubbed her eyes.

“You doubt our capabilities?” I asked wryly and scratched Gol behind the ears. The big lug had sat himself firmly by my side, now wholly recovered from his wounds. A rumble of content eased itself from his throat and prompted me to continue.

“Not particularly.” She shrugged. “Only reason I’m askin’ is with it being this close to the first harvest is all. Crops look like they’ll be ready to take off in a week or so now.”

“And that is a large reason of why I’d like to have the main house finished by then.” I nodded as she handed the parchment back to me. I didn’t need to survey it myself-I had just spent the entire night sketching it up and was short on sleep myself. As if to exacerbate my point, a yawn slipped from my throat and into the freedom of morning’s cool air.

It seemed neither of us would be functional at optimum capacity today. A fact that didn’t bother me.

“In my last attempt to build a proper house, I did several things wrong,” I admitted and gestured at my temporary domicile. “Attempted to use building techniques that did not frankly mesh well with the materials needed. A sort of franken-structure, if you will.”

“A what now?”

A bit of old, obscure culture from back home slipped through the cracks, which I waved off. That explanation would benefit no one. Instead, I began to discuss our plans, the tools and materials available, and a step-by-step process. It took time, yes, but I found that giving those who worked with me a detailed overview produced better results for me than withholding information to make them reliant on me for instructions like an absolute jackass.

“First, the basement,” I concluded. “We have actual tools with which to dig it out this time.” A pained sigh rose from my throat as I looked at my last attempt to dig a cellar. The water inside had not magically disappeared, to my immense disappointment.

“And of course, properly line and seal it off this time.”

“What do yeh have in mind?” Ishila asked as we watched Artyom bound across the fields to do his morning chores. Routinely checking the fences and plants was a little too much early-morning exercise for my bulk, I was unashamed to admit.

“Rocks. Hundreds of them.” I beamed and held out my axe. Expectation demanded her face fall as realization of her work sunk in. It did not. Faced with the prospect of back-breakingly arduous labor, she instead grinned crookedly and seized the enchanted weapon.

“There’s an’ exposed cliff face not far from here.” She drawled a little and spun the weapon around in her hands. “I’ll be over there, ventin’ some frustrations.”

“Long as you get me my stone on time, feel free to carve up the whole mountain.” I nodded at her already-receding back.

The lass liked idle conversation as much as the next woman, but there was a thirst for action and movement inside her that had been made clear since I first met her. Was it just her, or an orcish trait? Either way, she had her work, and I had mine. An oversized steel shovel in hand, and a plethora of other tools at ready, I set off to dig myself a cellar.

A task that, while being made easy by virtue of the body I inhabited, was still monotonous. Sink the shovel in, prise loose the dirt, and cast it aside. Strength made the digging part trivial, yet the motions through which I cycled all demanded their share of time. Garek’s body was made for strength and endurance, not hyper-fast bursts of speed. And so I labored on, the dirt piling around me.

There was little for either Gol or Artyom to do, and so they sat and watched my work from atop ever-growing mounds of earth. And through it all, I was once more entranced by the relentless movements of my own body. Garek’s form moved with near-machinelike consistency, with performance that did little strain his muscles.

But I was soon distracted from admiring my own form.

Artyom jumped up and scampered off towards the road, then returned momentarily. I frowned and wiped the sweat from my brow as he announced that there were riders coming.

“Not baron or Raffnyk’s men, no-no.” He assured me and plopped back down on his throne of cool dirt. “Just three horses and riders.”

Caught between curiosity and apathy, I shrugged and returned to my task. If they had business with me, I would soon know. If not, then they would simply be passing through.

Neither were true, it turned out. My eyebrows rose as I recognized the adventurers from Hullbretch. The ones who had fallen for the fake tax. Only now they seemed armed for trouble, with packs and weapons upon their steeds. They were halfway up the road when one glanced at me, hollered a greeting and promptly guided the others towards me. I frowned as they trotted across my property, not having bothered to unhorse themselves.

It wasn’t so much that anything was damaged then I expected some form of politeness. My scowl was reformed into a neutral expression as they drew near and their leader swung from his steed in a single, fluid motion.

“Why, my good man, I did not think we would meet again so soon!” He exclaimed, teeth flashed in a wide smile. “And so near our destination! Surely this is good fortune for all involved.”

“Quit your jabbering, Etlos.” The elf tiredly snapped. “Just skip to the point where you try to recruit him and he says no. The man has a farm and a life, he’s not going to abandon it to come with us.”

The purple-skinned humanoid -a tiefling by Garek’s memories- winced and shook his head, disappointment on his features.

“My own party has so little faith in me, alas.” He exclaimed. A flair for the dramatics lay in this one, I surmised.

“We’ve traveled over a hundred leagues to here, and have nothing to show for it.” The woman replied, cold as a winter’s breeze. “My lack of faith in you has been naught but vindicated with every step that passes beneath our feet.”

“I ain’t nothin’.” The dwarf glowered up from his markedly smaller horse. “You sayin’ I’m nothin’?”

“Not in the mood to repeat myself.” The elf hissed.

“When are you ever?”

There was some...tensions within the group, I gathered. Events that I was not privy to had likely occurred.

“Welcome to my humble abode, such as it is.” I plunged my shovel into the dirt and looked around. “What can I do for you?”

“Here comes the sales pitch.” The elf groaned as Etlos straightened and beamed. “Could we just skip it this time?”

“Well, my good man, I have delightful news for you. There is a significant chance for us all to become filthily rich, you see.”

“There’s a dungeon up the mountain, or so we've been told.” the elf cut in. “An undiscovered one.”

Silence reigned as the others took in what she had just said.

“What the fuck, Marile?” The tiefling spoke flatly, his cheerful expression gone. “That was our knowledge to share. And you just give it away?”

“A hundred different people have heard it from your lips, Etlos. It isn’t a secret anymore. It hasn’t been a secret for months now.”

“It is, however, the first I have heard of this.” I spoke. “And I live here.”

Relief settled on the tiefling’s face at my assurance. Relief that vanished as I continued.

“This alleged dungeon is not the only thing at the mountain’s peak, however. An Apex lurks there as well.”

“Well, fuckity.” Came the reply after a moment of silence.

“It changes nothin’.” The dwarf rumbled, arms crossed. “We simply avoid it and find the dungeon ourselves.”

“Or..” The elf trailed off and glanced me up and down. “We follow through with Etlos’s small-eared idea and take on a fourth member.”

“Not interested.” I cut them off right away. “My adventuring days are over.”

It was at this time, in this place, that Ishila chose to appear from the trees, a mighty load of hewn stone slabs carried in her grasp, enchanted axe hanging from her belt. One by one, their eyes went from me to her as they observed the young woman stomp across the field, several hundred pounds of rock carried in her arms.

“Perhaps there is another..” Marile mused, arms crossed. “If you let her, that is.”

“She is not my daughter.” I shrugged. “The choice is hers.”

All eyes remained firmly on her as the lass dropped the stone slabs in an avalanche of rock, straightened and strode over with a grin. Introductions were made, with Gol and Artyom included. The tiefling opened his mouth to give her the same pitch as he had attempted to give me, and was silenced as the elf broke in.

“How would you like to be an adventurer?” She posed the question bluntly, refusing to dance around the subject. “There is a dungeon up the mountain, or so we have been told, and we intend to plunder it’s depths, yet lack a fourth member.”

Ishila was caught flat-footed, and simply stood in stunned silence as heartbeats passed.

“Well, I’d love it, I suppose.” She finally spoke cautiously. “Always been my dream. But I got obligations right now. When do you plan to go up there? It’s right dangerous, you understand.”

“We’re adventurers, lass.” The dwarf grunted. “Danger comes with the profession.”

“That’s a mighty simplistic way of lookin’ at it.” Ishila returned with a frown. There was some relief within as I saw that the promise of adventure and the call to fulfill her dreams had not blinded her common sense. Excitable and easy-going as she was, she had a solid, sensible head on her shoulders. Perhaps even more so than I.

“What the bushbeard means to say is; in this line of work, danger, and risk are sometimes necessary. We can evade most potential danger and locate the dungeon. I am confident of this. But we are too few. A fourth member of the party, even temporarily, would greatly increase our chances of success.”

Dull as my eyesight was, even I could see the struggle the orc lass underwent right now. Fate had laid before her the chance to live out what she desired, but with an added price. And in truth, I did not particularly want to lose her services. Harvest drew near, and even outside of that, the amount of work she performed for me was frankly considerable. Yet it was her choice, and I would respect whatever she chose. I told her as much.

“Let me think it over.” She finally muttered. “This is a big decision to make for me. I’ll sleep on it and let you know.”

Promise secured, the Unbound Blades informed her that they’d be staying at the Verdant Dawn camp as they gathered the lay of the land for the next few days, and rode off soon after. I watched them go, a tight feeling in my gut. Like as not, I had grown attached to ishila’s company, and would sorely miss her if she left.

The lass didn’t say much, just returned to her work, lost within her thoughts. It was only late in the evening, when we had gathered around the fire for supper that she finally spoke.

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