One Moo'r Plow

“We just killed a god.” Ishila stared in shock. The half-orc looked battered and near-broken, held aloft by sheer grit and orcish tenacity.

“Not a full god.” Valencia grunted and rolled her shoulders. “Godling at best. Tried to rush the ascension. Managed to hold on to a fraction of its intended power. A fool, as these things usually are.”

“You.” I stared down at her. The dreadknight remained malicious as ever, her aura of dread in full effect. She looked barely winded, my own fight with her and this battle barely having only lightly taxed her. Or so she showed on the surface, at least.

“Me, minotaur. Are you not thankful I came to your aid?” She grinned, her every word derision and blood.

“You remain an enigma.” I continued. “Why?”

“Why not? I am unbound by your rules, your petty moralities. My heart desired this, and so it was given.”

“You fought a God simply because you wanted to? Not to save this land and its people, prevent annihilation?” I asked with tentative disbelief. The fervor in her eye made me realize what an excercise in futility that question had been.

“Yes.” Was all the answer I received. “I came to witness its arrogance, to see how mighty it set itself and thought it was above me, then to see it broken and driven before me. Humbled, in its final moment.”

“And now?” I asked, still tensed for the possibility of battle.

“I am satisfied.” She declared. “You will walk safely this day. You really should attend to the elf.”

She tossed that in casually, her smile burned into my memory as I whirled and raced toward Velton’s broken form with Ishila in tow. The elf lay crumpled against the wall, chest a slow rhythm of weakness as he wheezed blood.

“Pa’!” Ishila yelled as she shook his form. There was worry in the lass’s voice, and rightfully so. The elf was crumpled and broken, his body smashed upon the rocks. As I watched, one eye cracked open and he gasped in pain. My worry was in vain, however. The elf wriggled tattoo’d fingers and with some disgust, his body was realigned to proper proportions.

“It’ll take more than being chucked into a wall to end me, girl.” He grimaced. “But I do appreciate your concern.”

Magic. At high enough levels, it was oft indistinguishable from telling the universe what to do. Yet the elf was not some this, frail being. There was no small amount of respect garnered as he hauled himself up and looked around.

“Weak though I was, I could still witness you succeed,” He gave Ishila a pained smile. “Know that I am proud beyond what words can express right now.”

A hug of reunion was what I left them to and strode across the chamber in search of the other two. Tehalis lay groaning and waved off my assistance, yet seemed fine otherwise. Le’rish sat inside a massive crater, returned to her humanoid form. She stared blankly upwards, her expression bleak.

No words needed to be said as Ishila strode past me and down to Le’rish’s seated form. The lass simply understood. I turned away as the two embraced, willing to leave them some privacy as the others gathered. Those who remained, at the least. Valencia had vanished, gone back to wence she came.

“So. We have slain the Overmind. Now what?” Even these words were forced out as exhaustion’s hounds nipped at my heels.

“Now, we go home. We rest, we heal, we celebrate this victory and then we return to our daily lives.” Tehalis offered these words of wisdom with a pain smile as Velton’s magicks worked to mend her body. Without any semblance of healing potions left, magic would need to be the stopgap until we emerged from this place of fear and darkness.

“To be exact, how do we get out? A long trek back to the ladder and it’s tower?”

A simple gesture upwards showed sunlight high above. I realized then that Ishila’s lance had completely burrowed through the cavern’s roof and smote a tunnel to the world above. The unposed question to whether anyone could fly was summarily answered by a platform of dirt being torn from the ground beneath me. There was little said and even littler to say as we hovered skyward, the cradle of a god left below us. Light slowly approached, come to greet the victorious.

The air was oddly peaceful as thick green canopies of forest bloomed around us. The dry earth gave way to fertile land, dead dungeon replaced by lush forest. Perhaps a little winded and my fear of heights being thoroughly renewed, I staggered off the platform and into the underbrush. Fallen trees made a suitable seat as I basked in sunlight and warmth, grateful for life’s simple pleasures.

“One last bit of magic, then.” The elf sighed. “I doubt anyone particularly wants to walk home from this place.”

“You recognize it?” The area seemed foreign to me, yet the elf had lived here far longer than I.

“Indeed.” Was all he offered. There was little conversation as those present gathered round, and once more I experienced the unique sensation of being pulled sideways through reality. Never had I been so grateful to see Gol startled as we appeared en masse upon the farm’s property. The big lug loped up to me and buried a thoroughly cold nose into my side, whines given all the while. My attention turned to thoroughly spoiling him with rubs and scratches, barely able to nod farewell before the others vanished.

And then I was alone once more. The weight of what we had done had not fully settled in, I knew. The task was done, countless lives were saved, and most importantly at all, my farm was safe once more.

Strange was emotion that came to my tired mind as I pondered upon this. Without the vague threat of danger that loomed over me, there was now no force to hurry my actions. A hitch in my strode, I hobbled towards the storage shed and gently pulled the door open. Fresh milk sat inside, pale petals being soaked. Stiffness and the sore pain of pulled joints made themselves known as I bent to scoop up a full jug and slowly sipped the precious liquid.

Sleep called, yet I did not answer to what awaited me. Once my eyes closed, that meant more levels, more skills, more power, more expectations from the Gods Above that expressed interest in me now. An onward march of endless events and danger.

There was naught I desired more than the simple caress of peace in this moment. The silent regard for simple things, small joys and wonders in which I could satisfy myself every day. Much as I desired this, it was not to be. Realization had slowly come that if I desired such things, they would have to be made by me. Moments such as this where I sat beneath the shade of trees that were mine, a cool jug of healing milk in my hand and the other upon the head of my dearest pet.

The dungeon’s saga had not ended. Only a fool would think so. Its threat, while subdued for now, would no doubt return later. Yet that was tomorrow’s worries. For now, I allowed myself to revel in what had been accomplished by my own two hands. Artyom was nowhere to be seen, yet I had faith that he was alright.

For the longest time, I sat and let the wind blow through my fur, watched the sun slide across the sky. I accomplished nothing in this time, yes. But such were my intentions. To simply enjoy the feeling that came without the need to hurry from one task to the next. These hands had built this farm, gathered all that I owned and preserved this realm. Now was time to let them rest.

The baron remained an enigma, a man who I had never met, yet who commanded so many aspects of my life. Valencia did as she wanted, and I dreaded the way I would confront her once more. I was not the only one who had walked away from that desperate battle with the god’s rewards upon me. If that act had been enough to propel me so far, how had it affected her? What had it granted Ishila?

Le’rish had hid her true self for so long, perhaps in fear of what others might judge her as. Yet now that it had been revealed, I only found more sympathy for her. The signs had always been there, yet I had never given enough thought to the matter. It changed..frankly little, I realized. In my heart, she was counted as a friend and would continue to be so. Yet I was aware that this world was not so understanding as I.

Questions for a future time.

One last battle I waged now, this time against sleep’s smothering embrace. There was a determination within, a stubborn refusal to obey every one of the System’s whims. It was small, yes. Petty, to be frank. Yet I would dictate when and where I gave in, not be nudged along by some unseen force.

Milk was all I had, and after long hours of exhaustion settling upon my limbs, I could thwart this foe no longer. I would not awake for some time. This I was aware of. Gol had himself drifted off to sleep, I saw once I rose. High above, evening’s dull light faded as night set upon this world once more. Another yawn stifled in its infancy, I walked up the hill towards my lodge.

At the threshold I paused and turned, if only to survey what was mine. It was unchanged as when I had left, a place of simple beauty that I could appreciate. Even as I turned and closed the door behind me, I knew many more adventures awaited me, whether I welcomed them or not.

Such was the fate of one Godtouched.

End Book One.

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