One Moo'r Plow

Were I a more clever man, there would no doubt have been some witty response to what had just unfolded before me. Some flourish, a show of bravado as the conqueror accepted tribute from those overrun. I had no such reaction. A heartbeat eked its way into the void of time, then another as I mimicked a stone in movement.

The monster knelt before me smelled of naught but raw fear and nervous sweat. Its head remained bowed briefly as I gazed upon its supplication. No plan presented itself as I watched it twitch back and forth, glancing back at its kind, those who lingered just outside the treeline. Much as my mind refused to readily accept what had just happened, there was no indication of treachery in its scent. Only fear. Even so, I kept my gaze upon it, ready for the twitch of muscles that would give away a sudden spring forward, herald a surprise attack.

In my example, the creature decided against any action, simply keeping knelt in the sweltering afternoon heat. Sweat ran down its brow, the only noticeable scent amidst the raw stench of trepidation that cloaked it.

One hand reached out and plucked the gem from its upturned palms before I could second-guess my actions further. Adequate large and rather shiny, I supposed it was a generous peace offering.

“Explain yourself.” I rumbled, and then resisted the urge to smack myself for not phrasing that better. An empty stare tinged by traces of confusion met my gaze. Several more moments passed as I repeated this. Comprehension dawned soon after.

It could not understand me. And much as I believed that actions spoke louder than words, experience indicated that any aggressive actions I took would ruin the moment. Likely cause them to bolt back into the trees and continue whatever existence they eked out. By virtue of being a minotaur, that would cover the wide range of..well, anything I did. Even while I remained motionless, the sheer amount of raw fear that roiled off the creature and invited itself into my nostrils gave me pause.

Gods Above, they were terrified beyond belief.

And so we were back to the very first square, at a one-way stalemate, if such a thing was possible. Several splendidly productive moments later, a tug on my pants and the scent of feline indicated Artyom’s arrival.

“They speak in another language, yes-yes.” He stated the obvious, one word at a time. “The Low Tongue. All monster-adjacent species are gifted it by the System, Mhmmm.”

“And one might assume you can speak this?”

“I may try, yes-yes.”

And that was all that I needed.

“Relay to them my thanks for the gift, and inquire as to their purpose here.”

A series of low, guttural sounds came from Artyom moments later, to which the creature slunk backwards, fangs bared.

Its long snout moved as it began to bark something in return, then cut off and dropped into a much lower whimper. A verbal exchange that comprehended exactly none of, but this was not the only language I understood. It’s body language spoke of submission, even with small flares to other emotions as it grumbled back and forth with the felinid.

“Well?” I asked once the light breeze was the primary source of sound once more.

“You are the Great Destroyer.” Artyom stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Breaker of Gods, Shatterer of the Sacred Stones. The one of lay their Stone Gods low. They have come to pay tribute, so that your wrath may be appeased.”

Only great restraint kept the laughter inside my throat as the sheer absurdity struck me.

And yet.

Was I not nearly a god, from their perspective? A divine force of wrath that had returned to punish their hubris and shatter their weaker gods before me?

The thoughts ruminated for several moments, A reminder that the shards of the old, arrogant being who had been Garek before me still lived within.

“Tell them I am pleased with their gift, but that I am no God.” I replied, and watched draw near, Gol protectively between her and the stonemongers. The great beast had its fangs bared, ears flattened and visible clumps of fur on end. The orc held him back, soothing words uttered and gentle strokes along his head as they approached. He had not forgotten, nor forgiven.

Chatter resumed between the two as the rest waited for the results in strained ignorance.

“It says that if you are not a God after such ruinous wrath and feats of strength, then what are you?”

“A farmer.” Was all I returned. There were visible hints of confusion on the creature’s face as Artyom translated.

It crept backwards and glanced up at me, not sure what to make of what Artyom was saying.

“It’s scared stiff.” I remarked to Ishila as Artyom and the stonemonger conversed.

“Any and all can see as much.” She remarked. “What did you do to these beasts anyhow?”

“Cut down their leaders, toppled their idols and scattered them into the wilds.” I returned without pause. “But I only culled out a single nest. The Apex destroyed the largest settlement.”

A flare in fear -if such a thing was even possible- came before the creature lept backwards, ears laid flat and fangs bared as it’s body trembled. If I scared these beasts, then the mere mention of the Apex cast terror into their very being.

It took several moments of calming gestures from us and words from Artyom to reassure the stonemonger. All throughout, its eyes darted back and forth, tongue flicking at the air.

“You destroyed a gathering nest.” The felinid translated after several moments of harsh jabbering back and forth. “The Apex destroyed their..well, the rough meaning is ‘civilization’.”

“I know. I was there.”

“As you have destroyed their warrior god, whose name I cannot translate, they have come to pay tribute and beg for peace.” Artyom continued.

“They did not seem overtly peaceful upon our last few encounters.” I smiled thinly, stark memory of a howling tide descending upon my farm fresh upon my mind. “The opposite, from what I saw.”

“They have only reassurances to offer.” Came the reply several moments later.

“I am a peaceful person, not a stupid one.”

“They are mostly harmless in small groups.” Ishila chimed in. “It’s only when they get tah rilin’ up in big packs is when the trouble starts.”

Much as I valued her opinion, and had heard the same from Le’rish, I was not entirely eager to budge on this subject.

It was easy to think of this monster as weak, fearful with how it cowered before me, ready to leap away at the smallest movement. And yet, a part of me admitted that it took real courage to approach that fear, to be terrified by it, and to face it down. The absence of fear was not courage. That was reserved for those who would try to overcome what scared them.

“What now?” Ishila asked. I had no reply to give. It took several moments of musing to come up with a decent solution.

“I accept their tribute. They may go in peace.” I finally had Artyom relay. What else was I going to do? Put them to work? Have them run errands for me? Teach them to cook?

It was at this moment that another chose to make their appearance at the worst possible time. Hooves clopped and wheels creeked as a semi-familiar cart rolled around the road’s bend to appear from the trees. Atop it sat Pert, likely on his way to the camp to pettle his wares.

I did not need to be close to smell the focused interest with which he surveyed the happenings. My scowl matched his gaze and I stood with arms folded as he slowly trundled past. Much as I disliked the man, the road was not my property, and I could do little to halt him. Legally. SHould it ever go beyond disagreement, I had other options.

While I did not know the man all that well, I had heard of him, and by accounts on and all, he was a blabbermouth. A gossip-leach through and through. I had little doubt this would be the talk of the camp come sundown, with whatever twist he wanted to add to this.

All too soon and not quickly enough, he was gone, and my mind turned back to more important matters. Namely, the obviously valuable gem held in my hand. In its current form, it was rough, uncut. A hunk of shiny crimson stone. Yet I could be made into more.

The promise of profit hung over me, yet I did not want it to cloud my thoughts.

“I will leave you alone.” I promised to the stonemonger. “So long as you remain peaceful, and deliver tribute.”

It took but moments for Artyom to get the message across, the monster’s eager nods a clear indicator despite the language barrier. With little fanfare, it turned and slunk away, the rest of it’s kind electing to follow suit and disappear among the foliage.

A wise decision.

“So. That happened.” I mused in monotone.

“Yah.” The lass agreed. “Nice little distraction. Make for a good story too.”

“Back to work?” I suggested. Not exactly a question, but Gol seemed to think so as he plopped, tension leaving his body. Only to be dragged back up as the felinid began to harass him. A small smile broke across my features as I watched the two. One that only slightly shrank as I caught sight of the brown-feathered raven sat astride the treetops, laughing silently down at me.

My very small arsenal of witty remarks being found sorely lacking, I did the humble thing and simply returned to my work. The day passed slowly as multitude of thoughts stormed through my brain, one eager to edge out the next. Of all the things I had expected when I rolled out of bed this morning, this had been among the last. In my mind, the stonemonger problem had firmly dealt with and filed away.

But life here had proven it was no stranger to handing out surprises to anyone and everyone involved. Lost within my thoughts as I was, I still managed to clear well over half of this field before the day was forced to end. One final push tomorrow, and my first harvest would be finished. The reaping, at least. Threshing, winnowing and more promised to eat up what free time I had, and then, as always, more work awaited me.

But that was for some date in the distant future. For now, for today, my work was firmly done.

Supper proved an amicable affair. My own cooking had remarkably improved since my arrival in this world. And yet at times, there was much I would sacrifice for a good, greasy burger. The thought made me pause.

Given the body I inhabited, would perhaps be cannibalism? A moral question for one stronger than I, for the greasy goodness of fast good could bend even the strongest wills.

“Stars looking pretty tonight?” Ishila questioned, and I realized I had been caught staring up, into the void.

“Thoughts of home pervade my mind.” I admitted. “I sometimes wonder if they inhabit the same stars we do, if they can see the same view as me.”

“Hmm. Doubt it. Angles, distance and all that.” She grunted between bites of whatever meat Artyom had prepared tonight. I had not yet touched mine, I realized.

“Ever feel like going back?” Came the question after a short pause.

“I have considered it.” I admitted. “And yet, while I could claim I have no way to return in order to soothe myself, I have no true desire to return. Here is where I have put down my roots. All those I know, all those I care about are firmly in this small area. And here is where I have made a life for myself.”

“That’s as good a reason as any. Myself, I’m more comfortable drifting around. Or so I’m hopin’ anyway. I love meeting new people, gazin’ upon new horizons. The few trips I went with folks to the city, I loved every minute of it.”

We left it at that, and soon enough, Ishila heaved herself up.

“Ma’s gonna come lookin’ if I stay out another night.” She grinned in her lopsided way. “Gonna borrow Gol to ride back home.”

Amused by the sight of the orc lass sitting astride the lumbering beast, I bid her farewell and watched until they vanished into the distance. Tiredness crept across me all at once, and just like that, another day had concluded.

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