One Moo'r Plow

Book 1: Chapter 23: Dusk and death.

I cannot promise long-term help, I rumbled. My farm needs me, but if you another task in the meantime, I shall see what can be done.

And he did. Raffnyk showed me where they were attempting to build a wall that would encircle the camp.

Monsters out there, He grunted and step stepped over loose timber. Would be foolish to leave an area with this many system-touched gathered unfenced. Irresistible target for any monsters hungry for a level or two.

Cant only be monsters who are hungry for levels, I vaguely commented. Just a filler thought.

The human didnt think so. His face turned morphed into an angry grimace and spittle hit the dirt.

Aye, Came the snarl. Theres plenty scum around that dont particularly care how they get their levels. Ifn monsters are in short supply, theyll happily turn to other sources.

He looked at me, a cold, dead look in his normally warm eyes.

You run into anyone those level-grinders, Garek, do the world a favour and kill them on the spot. Youll be saving a lot of lives that way. He spat again. Theres men and women that have given up their morals and humanity for a few more levels. People that dont care where the blood and levels flow from, long as they do.

The bitterness in his voice was plain to hear, and I just nodded along. But that too passed, and we found ourselves near a crew of people busy erecting a wall.

I have to go and make sure some of my knuckleheads dont go slacking off in the woods Raffnyk sighed, his eyes already lurking towards the forest. But Id be most pleased, and pay handsomely if you could give these here people a hand or two.

I was inclined to do as much, out of respect for the man. And his coin. Introductions were swiftly made, and I was soon hard at work. A mass of timbers carried on my shoulder, I lumbered past holes dug in the ground and jammed them in to create a wall of wood. Pounding down the sharpened ends did little to slow me. The perks of being a minotaur, I found myself very keen to enjoy.

Humans scurried to and fro around me, hustling hard to match my pace. My movement remained measured, steady all the while. Jam down a post, hammer it down with my fist, move on. Rinse and repeat. Return to the log pile for more. But even in my unrushed state, the rest began to fall behind. The pile of logs dwindled as people hurried to the forest for more, and multiple people sharpened those on the pile. Three separate groups dug holes ahead of me, barely able to keep up with my pace.

I could have slowed, of course. Taken my time. But I was being paid to work my hardest, and that was what I intended to deliver.

I told as much to a scarred woman with a lopsided grin after she had approached with a request for me to slow down.

Its not that Im trying to make you look bad, I gently said. I am being paid to complete a task, and I intend to so with all possible efficiency.

Right, She nodded. Folks are already worried bout Raffnyk bein friends with one of your lot, and these here are a proud, hard headed bunch. Take it from me.

That presented another thought I wanted to follow up on. Gareks memories revealed little of interspecies interactions. Hell, the man had only given any sort of fucks about what he could kill, and little else mattered. I would find no answers poring through the gore-stained depths of his memories.

Why do they fear me? I posed the question between blows as I hammered down another post. I knew part of the answer, of course, but more discourse was always beneficial.

She shrugged, watching me with her arms crossed.

Youre a taur, for one. War of the Beasts is still fresh on many peoples minds.

Ah, there were faint memories in the back of Gareks mind. Something when he was just a young calf, only vaguely remembered.

Like as not, people are rightly frightened that your kind has long memories and little forgiveness. Lots of old bulls still looking for vengeance for Gallane.

That was before my time. I assured her. I have no grudge with you humans.

Then youd be the first. And with you being a minotaur and us tiny humans, people will be cautious. Except for optimistic fools like Raffnyk, apparently.

Hmm. I nodded non-committaly and continued my work. I had learned something new today, it seemed. People didnt just fear minotaurs out of prejudice, but because of a past event. Still, the two were not entirely separate.

There was some attempt at small talk, and if though my eyes couldnt see the visual cues, I could smell that she was nervous. As were many of the others around me. Not because of the danger outside -they seemed used to that- but because of who strode in their midst

That was the one scent I could reliably recall from Gareks memories. Fear.

But I kept about my work, maintained my pace, and by the time Raffnyk had returned, my work was complete. The human just stared in surprise at the newly erected posts that formed the basis of his wall.

Well, I dont know what I expected from a minotaur, but it was not this much. He shook his head and fished out a small purse of coin. Take it all. I owe you as much for the work, and for all youve done for me. This and more.

I accepted the coin, satisfied to finally turn a profit on something. But I had even more to sell. Several inquiries as to food revealed he didnt have much faith in his own riders hunting abilities. I put in a good word for Lerishs talents in that regard. Didnt hurt to bolster your neighbors a little.

Milk? He asked when I brought up the subject. I mean, given that we only have a limited quantity of ale, and will soon be reliant on stream-water, I suppose a few might like to try it? It is not exactly what one imagines a camp of armed warriors drinking.

It is healthy. I frowned. Good for the bones.

I mean, I guess you can try to sell it. he nodded without much faith in my chances. But I make no promises.

A small bit of chatter later and a coin purse heavier, I set out for home as the sun sunk toward the horizon. The shadows stretched long around me, with only the faint sounds of wildlife my company.

All was well until the silence set in. Updated from nov𝒆lbIn.(c)om

It was not the sounds of whatever was in the undergrowth that made me uneasy. It was the lack of it. With a physical enemy to face and stare down, I would feel fine. But here there was just a gaping void of absence. Hand tight to the hilt of my claymore, I hurried on.

Dusk had set in by the time I reached the farm. Gol was nowhere to be seen as I strode onto the yard and waved Ishila away from her work. Artyom followed her from the fields, tools slung over his shoulder. The worry on my face was evident, I learned quickly after.

Theres something in the woods. Following me. Havent seen anything, but I cant shake the feeling. I explained between brisk breaths.

Ishila tapped her foot as we stood, obviously tense.

There is little on this mountain that can give you pause, I imagine.

Not myself I am worried about. I rumbled and shook my head. You and Artyom are not as invulnerable as I am, neither is the farm itself. The cows are system-touched as well. Monsters seek system-touched others to kill, do they not?

Yeh, She nodded. Been gettin a little less on edge round here lately, I guess.

Very safe, yes-yes. Artyom commented from beside her.

Not right now it isnt. I bluntly spoke and gestured towards the house. Inside. Everyone.

They followed without much protest, and I found myself within the confines of my house as night overtook the world. Leaned against the open doorway, I kept a careful eyes on the farmland.

Wheres Gol?

Ishila shook her head, my axe over her shoulder.

Havent seen him all day.

Gritted teeth were the only reply I could give her. It had inevitable, I suppose. Just because I had moved to a zone with low-level monsters didnt mean they would leave me be forever.

Night fell, and the cackles began.

I strode from the house, claymore in hand. I was not some frail old man, to hide behind the flimsy safety of wooden walls while the monsters stalked my yard. Gareks vision was poor, but equal was the measure in which it functioned. Light or darkness, it saw the same. I lumbered across the yard, and nostrils sniffed at the air in a vain attempt to pick out any unnatural scents.

Only now did the woods that surrounded my farm seem oppressive. Cackles came from all sides, malicious laughs that alternated between high and low pitched.

They could come, and I would give them something to laugh about.

I was nearly to the pasture when the first projectile sailed through the air and hit the grass, flames trailing in its wake. Hunched, wolven forms stalked at the trees edge on two feet, a chorus of hilarity that I failed to see the humor in.

They threw more flaming projectiles, I picked up a tree and hurled it back in return.

The roar that tore from my throat bellowed through the darkness, and with my sword raised, I charged.

They had picked the wrong fucking farm.