One Moo'r Plow

Materials spread on the table before me, I hurriedly made a prison for the pod out of what steel implements I possessed. Crude, but it would have to work. I dropped the carnivorous bud inside and stepped back to examine its actions. Inside the metal, it just plopped down quietly. Moments passed as I waited for it to move, yet it seemed content to do nothing.

Had it gorged itself to the point of not wanting to seek more? Was it digesting the meat? Or doing something else?

No amount of waiting revealed tangible answers, and I decided on another path.

I tossed a finger-sized chunk of meat into the circle of metal and bent forward to watch. The reaction was almost immediate. Even as the meat flew through the air, the pod rolled toward it, and spread began to feast. Its body swelled with every bite, yet its feasting remained relentless.

So it had no defined appetite, as far as I could tell. Simply hunger. This was further proven by several more chunks of meat being devoured greedily. Would it eat until it burst? I wasn’t quite eager to test that theory. Still, I had several things I wanted to test.

The pod left there on the table, I hurried outside and began to rummage through the storage shed. With its free space, I had been able to move some of the items that cramped my house into here. Several moments of fruitless rummage later, I emerged victorious, glass jars in my hands.

The pods could function autonomously to the vine, but how long could they survive?

That was what I was well and truly interested in. Knife in hand, I stalked back towards the field and liberated several more pods into a burlap bag. Writhing mass in hand, I returned from wence I had come, wickedness on my mind.

Experimentation on living being had never sat right with me, but for these things, I could make an exception. That, and the promise of profit. The little buggers tried to nip at my fingers as I reached into the bag, but Ironhide meant they merely dulled their teeth. Loved that skill more every time I used it.

Two pods in close proximity were content to ignore each other, I observed. I had tossed the second pod into the prison, only for it to roll over and do nothing. This, however, became a complete reversal as soon as meat entered the equation. Both biters surged for the piece, and the slimmer one reacher it sooner. For a few second, they gobbled at separate parts of the flesh, at an uneasy truce. Then only scraps remained and the fight was on.

Teeth clicked as they snapped at each other over the last few chunks. And when that failed to dissuade the other, they instead brought forth the wondrous power of incredible violence. Truly a time-tested method of achieving one’s goals.

I beheld the two as they snapped at each other, though the smaller one was at an advantage here. The larger, engorged pod moved sluggishly. Bloated and slow, it seemed to stumble around as the smaller pod nipped at it. And then the teeth snapped down in a sudden blur of speed and it was over.

The larger pod seemed to have no interest in devouring it’s kill, however. It spat the smaller remnants away and went back to fruitfully doing nothing. Interesting. A scarcity of food would cause them to fight without regard for their primitive lives.

With that out of the way, I instead return to the experiment I wanted to run the most. One by one, I fished out the pods and deposited them into separate jars. For some, I left the lids off, and others on. Some got no food, others a small bit, and a select few got an entire handful. I wanted to see how long they could survive while detached from the stalk, and the effects of different conditions.

Once all was said and done, I cleared a space on the counter and lined up the jars. With that out of the day, there was little to do but wait. On them, that was. I had one more pod left, and one other experiment I wanted to run. A wriggling bag firmly in hand, I left the house, blinked as the afternoon sun struck my eyes and headed for the wagon. There were deer-like creatures grazing at the edge of the forest, I saw, but I ignored them.

A groan escaped my throat as I drew near.

There was a fresh hole in the wagon’s back. I discovered the source a few moments later. The acid I had stupidly stored inside metal flasks had eventually eaten through the material, ran free onto the wagon and chewed its way right through the wood.

Excellent.

Truly, a wonderful development.

Only by the divine mercy of Ishila’s packing skills had the acid flasks been stored at the very back. As such, they had spilled and eaten through the wood, but not touched the other goods. Speaking of which, there were still pots of milk with chilling vines wrapped around them out here. Which I probably should move into the shed and lock it before any more of Artyom’s kind came along to liberate the liquid.

Not that I had a lock, thanks to my wonderful trip to Hullbretch.

With a grimace, I stepped around the slurry the acid had left on the ground below and instead pulled free a bag that burst with collected spores. The proverbial fruit of the puffer plant. Breath held carefully, I carefully extracted a pinch from said bag and sprinkled it into the pod’s sack. At first, there was little effect, but gradually adding more caused the struggles to recede.

Until eventually the pod was no longer agitated by my presence at all. Even shaking the bag had little effect on stirring it. I strode back towards the house to experiment further. Dumping the dazed, spore-covered pod in close proximity to meat showed a remarkably different result than before.

It had no interest in the food, merely lying in place, it’s mouth snapping weakly. This beggared the question; why didn’t the spores affect them while on the vine? They were in close proximity to the puffer plant. Perhaps it was because of the small amount the puffers produced normally that kept them calm?

Further tests would require me to transplant some of the away from the puffers and see how they behaved afterwards.

Still, now that I had established that the spores had a tranquilizing affect, there was one other plant I wished to test this on. I stored the dazed pod in it’s own jar, and with bag of spores in hand, approached the crop.

Slowly, carefully, I approached the quivering armored ball plant. I moved with extreme caution, not for my own safety, but because we had deduced that motion triggered these things. Anything that moved quickly in close proximity would have metallic orbs violently fired at it. This is I had learned through repeated triggering of said orbs.

With extreme care, I edged close and sprinkled powder over the one plant inside this enclosure. It shivered violently for a second, and I watched with bated breath. More and more I added until the bag was nearly empty.

Finally, its quivers stilled entirely. I sprinkled on some more for good measure, and settled in to wait. After a time, I slowly reached out and grasped one of the orbs. They were the size of a baseball, growing from pits in the plant’s armored surface. With a twist, I snapped one free. It remained dormant in my hand, absolutely doused in spores.

With careful movements, I backed away and held it up. Similar to the pod, it seemed to suffer no adverse effects upon being away from its parent plant. I turned it over in my hand, trying to find anything unusual about it. Apart from it being essentially a massive bullet for a bomb-like plant.

A few moments of experimentation revealed nothing extraordinary. And then my eyes caught sight of the deer again. I shrugged a general apology in advance and made my way in their direction. They stood at the wood’s edge, a wary eye kept on me as they drank from the stream.

Just some wildlife minding their own business and going about their lives. I almost felt bad for interrupting their scheduled meandering like this, but curiosity called. And who was I to refuse it answer?

With a grunt, I dusted off some of the spores and threw the sphere in the general direction of the animals. It hurled through the air, shedding a trail of puffer particles in its wake. With sudden violence, it exploded in speed and accelerated into a blur. The next thing I realized there were screams in the air as the animals scattered. They bolted into the undergrowth save one.

A wince rose unbidden to my face as I approached the site of impact. The sphere had homed in on the deer’s center and plowed right into it like a massive iron bullet. The only solace from that is that I imagined it must have died almost immediately. With a wince, I pulled the bloody corpse aside and found the orb embedded in its caved-in chest.

Covered in blood and dirt, it seemed lifeless now, its volatile energy spent. I grimaced at the sight of it, not wanting to imagine the damage those things could do to the human body. Effective immediately, nobody was to go near the orbs.

Ishila frowned at the corpse while Artyom cowered behind her. The grimace on the orc lass’s face made it clear she shared my sentiments.

“They’re all yours.” She agreed. “Ill make sure the Felinid knows what’s which sort of danger.”

“Speaking of which,” I sighed as we both watched Gol sniff the corpse and tear off a few chunks for himself. “You’ve ran Artyom through the paces. Do you reckon he’s worth keeping as a farm helper?”

I intended to work the cat until his theft was paid off, but beyond that, I did need specific sorts of help. Ishila, amazing as she was, couldn’t do everything herself.

‘He’s noisy.” She pondered. “Makes mistakes. But he didn’t try to run off or anything. Has enthusiasm. A bit clumsy, but that can be worked out. Works decently hard for one of his race. I’d say it’s worth keeping him around, especially for when we have to worry more about rodents and vermin.”

I didn’t bother to string Artyom along, just turned, looked at him and told him he was hired. He had sort of wandered here and didn’t have a place to go, so I would arrange sleeping quarters for him. With the sun sinking low to herald the advent of evening, we gathered for supper.

The sounds of horses interrupted our meal a while later. Riders of all banners trod past my humble farm, all headed further up the mountain. The Verdant Dawn had made their exodus from Hullbretch and were on the move. I spotted Raffnyk and his squad amidst the column, and raised a hand in greeting. I received a salute in return, but none of the riders broke off to join our company.

Columns of horses kicked up dust as they rode past, their banners high. A select few brought up the rear, carts loaded with materials. But all too soon, they were gone, and we were once again alone.

“Well,” Ishila grunted. “I’d best be off. Same as usual tomorrow?”

“Aye.” I confirmed. And the lass strode away.

“Soooooooo,” Artyom yawned, eyes blinking furiously, "I have a place to sleep, yes-yes?’

That would have to get sorted out tomorrow, but for now, he could sleep inside the house. A few hours later, I drifted off to sleep, my mind whirling with possibility.

Farmer Level Five reached. Sleep to apply.

New Skills unlocked.

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