One Moo'r Plow

I will admit, there were more questions within my skull as I left the farm than when I had entered, if such a thing was even possible. This was yet another compilation to my dream of idyllic, peaceful farming. Yet for today, things seemed to be on the upturn. Perhaps. Ishila was back in safe hands, if perhaps scarred by her adventures. We had discussed matters of supply and how to best deal with the situation at hand.

For now, Velton had assured me that we needed only to pretend as if Ishila had been sick for the past several days and had nothing to do with the awakening. I had not disclosed the information to anyone else, save for Artyom and Le’rish. Any other leaks would be..taken care of, or so the elf promised. Truth be told, the tone of voice in which he had suggested that unsettled me.

For now, they were content to let the proverbial ball roll at it’s own pace and for events to take their natural conclusion. News would no doubt be spreading akin to wildfire, and they intended to step back and let the humans either save or damn themselves for now.

There had been a glint in the elf’s eyes when I asked how he intended to avoid further scrutiny, and I had chosen not to press the question further.

For now, I tiredly walked home. Chronically deprived of sleep, I yawned in the mid-morning heat and vowed to catch up on some much-needed rest once the chores were done. I would have a visitor later, but nothing that rushed to be addressed at the moment.

Fate smiled upon me, and I made it to the safety of mine own home without further altercation or some monumental event unfolding upon me.

The cows were not yet milked, I discovered, but all other chores had been tended to. Artyom was currently entrenched within the vegetable garden, stalking his prey with the look of a hunter set in his eyes. As I watched, his ears flattened, fur stood on end and hiss escaped his mouth. Like a blur, he shot across the dirt, bounded over the stem of a tomato plant, and ripped free that which he stalked. The weed spilled dirt and was deposited firmly into the wicker basket carried at his side.

One more foe overcome.

With a tired wave, I made note to thank him for his hard work, grabbed some pails myself and headed for the pasture. Come hell upon this earth or grace everlasting descending from the sky, the cows would be milked.

Several turbulent tussles later, I gave up on trying to milk them withoutCloven Crash, froze them in place and went about my work. Patience could wait for another day. Milk stored in the shed, I sighed, rubbed weary eyes and sought out the shade.

Sleep should have claimed me before my eyelids properly closed, but instead I just sat there, sort of half-awake and caught between my waking dreams and the thought of just slogging through the day anyhow.

By some grand miracle, the darkness took hold, and I drifted off.

Not for long.

A rather rude kick woke me, and my eyes dragged themselves open to find a crimson-haired elf patiently drawing back for another jab. A few confused blinks confirmed that yes, it has mysteriously turned into late afternoon despite me only falling asleep mere seconds ago.

“The time for rest will come later.” Was all he offered as I blinked at him with accusing eyes.

“Fine.” Was all the response I deigned to offer him. It took more effort than I was strictly proud of to haul myself up and stare balefully at the smaller man. Tall as he was for his kind, I was still a minotaur, and held several feet of height to my advantage.

If he was at all intimidated by that, it showed neither in his scent nor on his expression.

“This supposed wondrous flower with remarkable healing properties my daughter maintains is so all-important. I would wish to see it.”

A yawn stifled in my throat, I nodded, lumbered past his smaller form and led him to the garden. With a grunt, I nudged the bled-out carcass aside and gestured to the already-regrowing petals with a wince. It was..rather bare at the moment.

“I’d offer you an example, but I expended it all to heal your little girl.”

“For which you have my gratitude.” Came the stiff reply. “If I might?”

A nod of approval was given, and the elf knelt down to inspect the plant. Much more hands-on then I had been about it. He poked it physically, prodded it with magic, felt it out and hummed to himself all the while.

“It feeds on blood, I take?’

A suspicion I confirmed.

“I suspect a sort of vampirism, but the healing properties seem anathema to the usual nature of such beings.My second theory it is an older strain of plant from a time. A more relevant one would be that this is an exceptionally foreign plant from some distant land where blood sacrifices to their native gods in return is still a common practice.”

“Make no mistake, the power exhuded by it is clerical in nature. Only those dedicated in service to one of your Gods Above emits the same radiance.”

As he spoke, a knife was produced, and a small incision cut across Velton’s palm. Blood dripped from tanned skin, coming to land directly upon the petals.

“Your Gods?” I questioned. “Interesting wording there.”

“Correct.” He nodded, attentively in examination as the petal lost their pale hue for a moment. They seemed to swell as the blood was lapped up, it’s rich scent fading from the air. The elf’s lifeblood smelled..different. What a strange thing to think, but here, amidst dried ichor in the soil below us, his had an unusual tang to it.

“We -dragons and elves alike- are firmly the mistake of the Old Ones. This new pantheon begets no worship from us.”

A rumble of thunder rolled across the clear sky as he said those words, yes all it elicited from the elf were rolled eyes.

“They bark and yammer about it occasionally, but are content to let well enough alone, for the most part.” He headed off my next question. “A much more lenient bunch than those they overthrew.”

Garek, unsurprisingly, had no memories nor interest of local pantheon politics. He only knew that their followers were marginally harder to kill on the field of battle, which in turn made him seek them out more. A mind for a challenge, that one.

“Observe.” He demanded. “The difference between clerical might and human alchemy.”

Two slashes were flicked up his arm, and a flask filled with viscous liquid withdrawn. A substance I realized was fleshknitter he poured over one wound, then ripped off a half-grown petal and smeared it across the other. I watched closely as the first wound pulled itself closed, muscles and flesh pulled back together as if by magnetic attraction.

The second healed much more slowly. Split skin reconnected from the inside out, a pure and gentle rebinding of the flesh that purged the wound. One left a scar behind, the other did not. With a grunt and a flick, that mark too vanished, and the elf nodded up at me. I had heard this described, and knew the difference, of course, but seeing the difference in action, side by side, was a new experience.

“One is roughshod human invention, a manipulation of the System and it’s gifts. The other is divine absolution.

“Now.” He bent closer. “For the real test. What is the usual growth length for one of these petals?”

A frown came to face as I scratched my chin and tried to remember.

“Constantly fed with blood, watered and with good sunlight, around four to five days?” I mused.

“And what sort of blood do you stain this soil with?”

“Mossdeer, various small animals that Gol brings back.” I gestured to the slumbering creature.

“Mmmm. Has it ever consumed the blood of creatures more directly affected by system. Say, ah, monsters or people?”

“Would Stonemongers count?” I asked, trying to remember if those things I had disposed of had been near the cleric-shine.

“Absolutely. It reacted rather quickly to my blood, if you’ll recall.” He continued on, brisk and no-nonsense.

“My theory of this being from a and where blood sacrifices to their Gods are still common seems to grow stronger with every new revelation. As such, I would assume that this plant is attuned to the System itself.”

“And this means?”

“To put it very simply, the blood of higher-leveled being will spur its regrowth on faster than not. A crude way of putting it, I realize. Yet that is how it works. Am I being blunt enough with this?”

“This last corpse here was a human, I take.”

I blinked and realized that yes, it was.

“A level-grinder that attacked me on the road.” I nodded.

“Then one could safely assume you’ll see a growth spurt within the next day or two. Keep feeding it good blood, and it will continue to grow quickly. Lower-leveled, water-down slop with drag out it’s potential regeneration and properties. You’ll find the system demands something be given in exchange for another thing taken.”

“Nothing is ever free.” I nodded grimly.

“Not in the purview of your benevolent Gods, at least.” He chuckled.

“This is excellent.” I nodded. “Wisdom that will help me and my endeavors.”

“I’m sensing a but here.”

“It is not entirely the knowledge I seek.”

“And so we arrive at your actual query.”

“It is imperative, for me at the very least, that we find a way to replicate this plant. I myself have not yet discovered a way to do this.”

“It has regenerative properties, does it not? This should be evidenced by how it heals itself whenever you pluck off.”

“Indeed.”

“Then, I would suggest a small test. Like so.”

He gestured, and my eyes widened in horror as part of the bloom’s center was simply cut away. The elf gestured, and the piece sprung to his hand, which he then presented to me.

“Unless my extensive knowledge on this topic suddenly and inexplicably fails me, it should be fine.” He reassured me with confidence I did not share. That plant was by far the single most precious thing on this farm. It’s value was absolute. To see it so casually damaged after I had carefully tended to it for weeks now was a shock, to state it mildly.

He handed it to me with instructions to bury it in soil, water it thoroughly in quality blood, nourish it with water and copious amounts of sunlight.

“Now, I am not entirely suggesting that you start cutting down high-leveled individuals or somesuch to get better blood for this thing.”

“I am sensing a but here.” I returned his earlier quip.

“You are close friends with Le’rish, are you not?”

“I would hesitate to define our relationship as close.”

“Yet she of all people would be able to procure these needed substances if you but ask. And don’t pose too many questions about the hows.”

“Noted.” I replied. Yet, such a dubious offer would not sit right with me. I had my morals, I would stick to them or die trying. There were obvious implications in what the elf had said, and none that I was willing to closely entertain.

“Well then, I believe that concludes our business here today.” He nodded. Before I could so much as protest, he was gone, naught but the sound of a thunderous crack left behind. With a tired sigh, I rubbed my eyes, looked down at the frighteningly large piece of cleric-shine, and hurried off to find a pot and some soil.

Whatever the weeks to come would hold, I could rest assured that at the very least, I likely would not find myself overly bored.

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