One Moo'r Plow

Yesterday’s drinking had returned upon my skull as today’s hangover, I found. Perhaps -and I meant this in the loosest way possible-, we had overdone it by a small amount. But such thing were inconsequential. I had reaped what my own hand had sown, and now I lived with the aftermath.

Philosophical ramblings proved too little of a distraction as I stumbled along, skull tight and the drums of alcohol pounding at my cerebral flesh. Already, my day was off to a spectacular start. Much to my shock, the knowledge that being able to barely concentrate hindered my ability to harness Skills had been rudely foisted upon me.

As such, my morning tussle with the herd was far less one-sided than I would have preferred. And now I stumbled away, battered and bruised both of body and mind. With a groan, I waved Artyom away as the felinid cautiously approached. Two meager, half-empty buckets of milk in my grasp, I trudged back to storage shack, yanked the door open and plonked them inside.

This monumental task completed, my form betrayed me once more, and soon I found myself in the dirt.

Gods Above, I was a mess.

Legendary amounts of alcohol had been consumed last night -myself the primary culprit- as Ishila had made several runs back to her parents’ farm for more as we had seen fit to celebrate a successful time together through the night.

All else aside, I had needed an excuse to finally give celebration to something.

Was regret at the forefront of my mind? Indeed.

Would I do it again? Undoubtedly.

Cursed by blurred vision and feeble hearing, I staggered upright, wandered across treacherous land and let myself fall facefirst into the dammed pool of cold water. So delayed were my senses that cold’s shock took several moments to strike my sensations. But like a hammerblow, it rippled across my body as I lay submerged.

Fully clothed, I let myself simply sit within the pool, in woe as I clutched my skull and contemplated never drinking again. A sound strategem, perhaps.

So invested within my own self-pity was I that Ishila was nearly upon me before I realized the scent upon the wind was hers.

My heart sank as I turned to look, and found her with a pack slung over shoulder, a closed expression on her face.

“So, this is it.” I stood and shook off water. “You’ve made your decision.”

“Yah.” She replied with a quiet nod. “You look like shit, if yah don’t mind me sayin’.”

“You’d say it anyhow, if I minded or not.” I grunted, somewhat aware of the state I was in. “I know now why the call it ‘spirits’. Because they always return to haunt you.”

Mirthless was the smile that graced her lips now. She probably wanted to laugh, but empathized with my pain. Still, that was not what she was here for. Courtesy, likely.

“So, off to follow the call of adventure then.” I sighed and rubbed my temples.

“Yah.” Ishila replied, tone muted. “I know it comes at an awkward time for yah’, but I’ve been waitin’ on this for way too long to pass it up.”

“And your parents?”

“Ma cried a bit. Pa’ just gave me advice, some gifts and told me if I was gonna leave em for the adventurer's life, I was gonna do it right.”

“You’re just going up the mountain for now though. That seems..”

“Like an over-reaction?” The young woman shrugged. “Not really, I guess. It’s less of me physically movin’ away right now and more of a lifestyle change, I guess. Thought on it myself for quite some time.”

“You’ll stay..okay, I hope?” I would have said safe, but there was no such thing in that sort of life.

“No promises, but I’ll try. Just wanted to come by and let you know. Courtesy and all. And because you’ve been a good friend. Need to grab my armor as well.”

“One last thing.” I grunted and beckoned her to follow. Ishila in tow, I crossed the yard, mid-morning sun already hot against my soaked form. Gol whined and approached, Artyom on his back as I made my way to the storage shed. Steel gray armor hung to the side with the safety gear, its fur trim burnt by acid. Yet my attention was on another.

With a heavy sigh, I withdrew the great axe from where it hung and passed it to Ishila. The smile that blossomed across her features made the loss of such a powerful weapon worth it.

“My gift to you.” I rumbled. “I have laid down my own tools of war. Mostly. May it serve you well in my stead.”

Arms that attempted to wrap around my form was the only response I received. After a moment, I realized the lass was trying her best to give me a hug. I returned the favor in kind. My own try was more successful than her, my quite a long shot. Still, I found myself touched as we stood in silence for a few moments.

Anything that needed to be said had already been uttered yesterday, either sober or under the influence. Nothing more was uttered as Ishila donned her armor, one piece at a time. Axe in one hand, she scratched Gol behind the ears with fondness in her eyes, petted Artyom as the felinid protested and then turned and set off up the mountain.

I stood and watched her go, soaked and already boiling under the clear blue sky. Silence lingered long after she had vanished from view, none willing to break it first. Until finally, I turned, closed the shed’s door and trudged over to my new house-to-be.

Much as I would have liked to stay and reflect on her departure, work called to me. A welcome distraction from my thoughts, I soon found. I had made much progress in lining the floor and walls with rock yesterday, and now came the much more tedious task or sealing the cracks. Ishila had made a truly monumentous effort to have me supplied with hewn rock throughout the day, and with that to minimize wasted time, the cellar was mostly completed. A large pit lined with sealed rock walls atop a stone floor was what I worked within now, carefully stuffing the cracks.

Artyom worked alongside me now, jabbering on about random things. He could not hold a subject for more than several minutes, I found, always leaping from one topic to the next. Yet his paws kept in steady movement even as his mouth ran a mile a minute.

I didn’t mind, truly. Was just something else to distract me from otherwise monotonous work.

This work was nearing completion after a long day of which I remembered little when Le’rish appeared, perched at the pit’s edge and staring down at me with her one good eye.

The huntress made no comment as I straightened with a groan, my back in pain from being bent over for most of the day. By divine mercy, the headache that plagued my skull had faded to a dull throb somewhere in the endless monotony of the day. She remained quiet as I approached, only offering a greeting once I had drawn near.

“Finished for the day?” I grunted and drained the last of a near-empty waterskin. Another time, I would have offered some to her, but I’d rather not have a conversation with my throat recreating the sensation of sandpaper.

“Long ago.” She replied, her eye following my motions. “Easy day. Overhunted for the camp. Free for next few days.”

“Too good at your job.” I managed to crack a smile and swung up to sit next to her. “Shame.”

“Mmmmm.” She agreed.

“Anything I can do for you?”

She shook her head and sighed a little, still crouched next to my much larger form. The huntress looked uncharacteristically on edge tonight, her expression twitching in mild ways. Her scent was yet another mess of layers I could not pierce. I realized at this point I had never been able to pinpoint a defined pattern in her smell. Probably a Skill that jumbled it or something.

“What do I owe the pleasure to, then?”

She shrugged once again, non-commital.

“Figured I’d drop by. Not much to do at home. Either this or go back and sleep. Chose this.”

“You’re…lonely?” I asked cautiously.

Le’rish rose to her feet a moment later, her face going from a grimace to flat in a heartbeat.

“Mistake coming here.” She grunted and turned to stride away.

“No, no, I’m not judging.” I rumbled frantically. “Please, sit.”

Her form paused mid-stride, then returned and squatted back down to her former position.

There was both tension and understanding in the air now. The lone huntress, always stalking her own path, isolated away from most of civilization, wanted company after all. I empathized with her, I really did. It hit me as to why she visited so often. Not because she wanted something, but because she, like I, craved the company of others.

I didn’t push it further, just mildly inquired as to the details of her day and made small talk. It wasn’t much, just a fragile understanding that the company kept was preferable to none at all. She sat in silence as I filled in the silence, talking about the plants and my recent breakthroughs. An empty pipe was idly turned between her fingers, and I found the huntress was an excellent listener.

Eventually, the conversation ran dry, and a topic-change was in order. She grunted and nodded as I informed her my debilitating Tax Evader status was gone, gave a few more vocal affirmations as i described the Unbound Blades, then snorted when I told them of their suspicions.

“A dungeon? On the Redtip? A fool’s dream.”

“I wouldn’t know myself,” I shrugged and offered her a glass of milk that Artyom had fetched from the shed. She took it and sipped between spurts of talk.

“I’ve all but lived on and around this blasted mountain for the past few years. Seen nearly every crag and rock with my own eyes-” She paused mid dip and grimaced. “Eye. An entire dungeon, hidden up that slope? Self-delusion at best.”

“Ishila seemed to think there was some merit to their theory.” I mentioned, and her eyes narrowed.

“Where is she anyhow? She usually seems glued to this place.”

I noticed her eyes widen, then narrow as I told her that the orc lass had left to adventure with the Unbound Blades, as per their invitation. Her scent flared, and the glass cracked in her grasp. Before I could blink, she was on her feet and already moving across the clearing, headed for back up the mountain.

“Another time!” Le’rish called back over her shoulder, seconds before she vanished from sigh completely.

What had just happened?

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