One Moo'r Plow

“Some men are content to raise crops and tame regular animals,” I rumbled, arms folded as I gazed upon the two men that stared up at me. “I am not. I raise monster-plants. I gave you fair warning, asked you to stay away from my crops.”

“God’s Above, man,” Shtane hissed. “I just want to know why?”

“Curiosity. An edge on opportunity. Profit, perhaps.” I shrugged. “Like I said, I am not other men.”

“It is not safe.” Joram struggled to formulate the response. “I’m not trying to be incredulous here, ser, but raising monsters? That’s like tending to a wounded fiend, knowing full well it will attempt to kill you once it is physically able.”

“You see, that is where we differ,” I gave the boy a tight smile. “It is dangerous to you as a human, but I am not human.”

And there it was. The rejection of my now-lost humanity. Not morally, of course, but physically. I had accepted that I would spend the rest of my life in this hulking form, forever stooping through doorways and a titan among men. It was strange. I had not at all even been interested in finding a cure or somesuch. Just accepted that this was my new lot in life and was trying to make the best of it.

It might have helped that I never really considered myself close-minded. Yes, I had my interests, beliefs, and circle of comfort I like to stay within. Yes, there had been some moments in my life where I reacted badly to circumstances, but I had not at all regretted the passing from a human body to another.

I saw no reason to return, in all honesty.

There was a lull in the conversation as I was lost in my thoughts. A polite cough from Joram snapped me back to reality.

“As I was saying before,” I uttered. “This task might be dangerous for ordinary men, but not for me. And so long people can follow my very simple warnings, no harm should come to others.”

“Yes, so we have heard.” Shtane sighed, frustrated. “But why? I have no doubt in your ability to wrangle whatever things you have out there under control, but what do they yield?”

To that, I could only shrug. Partly because I truly did not yet know what could be taken away from all this. Partly because I did not want to reveal everything I knew. Raffnyk’s men they might be, but I would not trust them with my secrets. And if the unnamed man’s snooping had proved anything, it was that I was correct in my wariness.

“You are down a man, until he recovers,” I observed. “How will you proceed with your mission tomorrow?”

Joram’s pensive expression vanished entirely, replaced by dread.

“We shall have to decide that come the morrow.” he grimaced. “For now, I suggest we haul Colbrek into a comfortable position, give him plenty of water, and hope he is fit to ride when dawn comes.”

“A vain hope.” Shtane hissed, but bent to grab the man nonetheless. They dragged him to sit upright against the tree, ignored his moans, and stuffed a waterskin into his trembling hands. With a grunt, I sat myself back down and scooped up some of the remaining broth from the pot. One of the things I disliked about this body was the massive, voracious appetite it had. One that it required to make all this function, I lamented. I consumed a ridiculous amount of food compared to what I had used to, yet always felt an edge of hunger for more.

“Pardon my askin, se-” the lad caught himself halfway through and fumbled for words. “Mister Garek, but what was your callin before all this? We heard you spent time on the frontier.”

“I was a Berserker, lad. Good at what I did. Still am. And now I aim to be a Farmer.” I shrugged between sips of hot broth. “Simple. And you?”

“I’m a Bleakwind Rider.” He returned, proud look upon his face. Shtane abstained and informed me he didn’t wish to share his Class. I nodded and soon the small talk petered off. With a sigh, I heaved myself up and looked around.

“My bed awaits. Rest here wherever you are comfortable till morning. Just, this time, keep away from the crops.” And with that I was off, back to my cramped home.

It smelled of meat, a constant stench I found myself losing all fondness for. And that was not my minotaurness speaking. I slept with wadded cloth in my nose to help staunch the stench that overpowered everything in the room. I slept long and deep and awoke to a knock upon my door.

It was late morning, I found as I stepped outside. Ishila already awaited me, and the riders were currently arguing by their horses.

“Morning.” I yawned to the lass, and received a usual greeting in return.

“Someone slept well.” She commented dryly. I just nodded in agreement. I had dozed comfortably. Milk bucket in hand, I walked over to the riders to see what decision they had arrived upon. Joram gave me a tight smile and thanks for the hospitality, while Shtane did the same, albeit with an annoyed hitch to his voice.

“We will return the Hullbretch.” He grimaced. “Colbrek was our method of escaping detection by the Apex, and he is barely in any state to ride. Without him, we ride to almost certain death.”

I nodded, and bid them farewell as they rode away. Once they were gone, I set about the morning chores. But first, I had methods to try. The icehusk vines were still within my pack, and now I carefully drew them out. A finger dipped into the terracotta jug confirmed the milk was now cooled slightly. It hovered just under lukewarm, likely due to how I stored it.

But now, I unfurled a long vine and wrapped it around the jug, then another. Satisfied, I returned the lid and prepared another, empty pot. Once finished, I stepped back outside and stomped over to the pasture. This time, I used Cloven Crash right away, too occupied with other concerns to fight the taur-cows this morning. I milked in relative peace, but with hateful stares from frozen beasts on me the entire time. Ishila joined as well, another pail in hand as she squatted next to a frozen behemoth cow and filled her pail.

And in little time, we had all the cows done and two nearly-full pails of milk.

“So,” I asked as we strode back towards the house. “How did you come by that hat? Is there someone here that makes them?”

“The young Gursenhein couple down the road dabble in leatherwork and such, so I got them to make this for me,” She grinned and spun it upon one finger. “Fits nice an snug.”

There was a small farm I had passed a few times, I distinctly remembered. Perhaps I would drop by, introduce myself and extend some neighborly hospitality.

"Tell me about them.”

Ishila was happy to provide. I suspected the lass liked to gossip a little but rarely found an open ear. I was provided with an overview of their history, when they had moved in, what they did, what they grew, failed ventures, current struggles, their problems, everything.

“Well, you see.” She pondered, deep in thought. “We might have something beneficial here, in my opinion.”

She said we, and I did not refute her. I viewed Ishila as a necessary part of the farm now, someone who provided nearly as much labour as myself. So much that I considered her a boon, not an expense.

“I realize that it’s an iffy subject, but they have recently fallen on unfortunate times. You see, the young ma’am, Lindse Gursenheim, has given birth to strappin’ young twin lads.”

“A great fortune for her, then.”

Ishila rubbed her neck as her expression twitched.

“She’s also dry as a bone. No milk for the babes.”

Ah. I winced. Blood-soaked as my hands were, the specifics of women and their bodies always did make me feel a little uncomfortable.

“Well, tis a very opportune thing we have here then, isnt it?” I glanced at at the several pails of milk we carried. “We appear to be uniquely situated to offer a gift, then. Perhaps a gesture of goodwill to show people that the massive brute growing monsters up the road isn’t so fearful after all.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinkin’.” Ishila half-smiled. “You’re a more than decent person, Garek, but there’s a reason you haven’t had any more folks over to visit and welcome you. Appearances do matter, and you have many people frightened.”

“And yet you stopped by.” I muttered, bemused.

“I was taught not to judge strictly by appearance. It’s often a good metric, mixed with a healthy dose of common sense.” The orc girl nodded as we approached the house. “But it ain’t the end-all.”

“Well.” I remarked and stepped inside. “I have plenty of milk. While I do have an appetite for it, it is more than I can consume. Perhaps a gift to this unfortunate young couple is in order.”

Strictly from a point of profit, this was a mediocre idea. And yet, I figured a gesture of goodwill was worth more than the few coins I could make from selling this. Extend a good impression to the neighbors, perhaps open up some channels that would otherwise remain closed to me. And even without the business side of it, I thought it was the right thing to do.

I had the opportunity to, at little cost and effort to myself, help another in their time of need. And in a world where I could be anything, I chose to be generous.

“Well then,” I asked Ishila as I emerged, carrying the terracotta pot of milk, vines wrapped around it. “How would you like to run an errand for me?”

The smile on her face spoke in ways her words could not.

“And make sure to get me a hat!” I yelled at her back as the lass trudged off, pot secured and Gol wandering after her. What had she done to make the blasted beast like her?

The morning almost over, I walked over to my crops and sighed. Shtane had asked a good question. What did I intend to do with these ‘crops’ of monster plants? Some, I could figure out immediate uses for. With some caution, I could potentially harvest the acid from the pepper-plant. The spores from the puffer seemed to make whatever they came into contact with slow and lethargic. The biter-plants' teeth seemed to easily pierce anything not strictly metal,

The armored ballplant was a volatile bomb, but I believed with enough experimentation, I might be able to harvest and harness it’s growths before they violently exploded. With a grunt, I squatted down to a plant I had not touched before. Purple leaves grew in a spread above the soil. With no discernable effect, we had elected to leave it where it had been originally planted.

I seized a handle of the leaves and yanked it free. My eyes widened upon the sight of what appeared to be a small, wrinkled humanoid form beneath the earth. That was all the warning I had before it screamed, and my world swam as the full, piercing shriek went straight through my skull and into the brain.

The world swam. Black spots gathered in my vision. There was blood in my ears. I could smell it.

Instinct took over and I slammed the thing back down and jammed it under the soil.

The scream mercifully ceased, and I was left in a deafening silence.

What the fuck?

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