One Moo'r Plow

I refused to let sleep’s grip smother me under as the cleric attended my wounds. Somewhat out of sheer spite, mostly because A small voice whispered into the recesses of my mind that I would not wake for days. The feat I had wrought had proven my worth, and the Thirtieth level awaited me. Messengers from the System, from the Gods Above let it be known that once I lost consciousness, no force would awaken me until the breakthrough had been achieved.

A legendary Skill awaited me, for such a time when I was ready. The unique combination of my class and race, it dangled just out of reach, not yet given to me. Soon.

Hands that knitted my flesh moved quickly, with uncanny precision as clear fluid was scraped out of my wounds and the flesh pulled closed beneath her touch. Red robes clad the woman who attended to me. A stern, drawn face seemed without emotion as she expertly made me whole once more. Not a trace of revulsion or other such weakness lay in her scent as she worked through my insides, everything returned and reattached to its proper place.

“You have experience with this.” I grunted in pain.

“Not the first fool nearly made into a corpse I’ve worked upon. Nor the first of your kind.” She returned briskly, black hair speckled with grey bobbing as she moved. I grunted as a rib slid back into place, blood coughed up in my mouth.

“Whatever Skill still gives you life, cling to it with all your might.” She demanded, and I happily obliged.

“Thought they just used Fleshknitters here.” Was my attempt to make small talk to distract from the pain. I was slumped back against a wall, the woman standing before me. She barely had to bend to stitch away at my chest, her fingers beckoning the flesh closed.

“A mockery of godly grace.” She snapped. “I use no such cheap blasphemy. The Red Godling guides my hands, and through him you are made whole. Now be silent. I have others to attend, and the sooner you are stable, the better.”

“Why me first then?” I almost laughed. Would have, had I not been so utterly crushed in the grasp of agony.

Her words rang true, I realized. There was a quiet sense of awe in the gazes of those who looked upon me. Some fear buried behind the amazement, so deep I could only smell it. Dazed though I was, I fully realized what I had just accomplished was no small feat. The swarm had been contained by a single minotaur. It was then that I was finally, fully thankful for this body and its strengths.

Even as I sat here, tired beyond belief, the fortress moved around me. The injured needed to be tended, the bodies cleared, massed carcasses hauled away and damage fixed. Duty slowed for no man, I knew. For a time, I sat and observed the ringed fortress moving with life around me as the pain slowly faded.

She stood abruptly, thin gloves pulled from her hands and cast aside. I realized then that her work was finished, and while still sore, I was no longer about to die. At least not immediatly.

With a sigh, I finally released It Will Not Die and felt the breath leave my body as tiredness clubbed me about the head.

“I’m told you sell this..milk.” She asked after a moment spent regarding me. “It radiates divinity, yet from no god with which I am familiar.”

The empty flask she had handed me, I realized after a moment of confusion.

“Indeed.” I replied cautiously.

“You are the farmer who lives on the path up the mountain, yes?”

Again, I nodded. She seemed satisfied with that.

“I shall pay you a visit in the future, then.”

And with that, the Red Cleric turned and strode away, off to mend the wounded. Someone who took her duties quite seriously was the impression I had gotten, brief though this had been. She had stitched me back up with surgical precision, only the exact amount of power needed to heal each and every individual gash used. Were in not done on my own body, I would have perhaps displayed more fascination as to this and her methods.

For now, I was merely thankful she had been present. It had not been my strict duty to involve myself in this battle, but such had been my choice, and I stood to reap the rewards.

Physically, I did find just a smidge of trouble with that. And while my healer had left, I was not left to my own devices.

The first thing I noticed was the singularly bushy, magnificent mustache that graced the man’s upper lip and covered most of his face. Proud eyes webbed by crow’s feet from constant smiles gazed at me as I stood, and a beaming smile was perhaps not something I fully expected.

If a minotaur towering before the man frightened him, his face did not show it.

“Gods Above, I am pleased that you are on our side.” He addressed me in a cheery fashion, helm held under one arm as the other extended forward in the offer of a handshake. A grasp that I gently took and gave a few pumps, careful not to squeeze too hard. Not everyone shared my prodigious strength, levels and whatnot aside.

“Ser Damian North, Knight-Commander of the Redstone Fortress.” He introduced himself and gestured around. “It is not much, but it is mine.”

“Garek.” I returned. “A farmer.”

“Humility or false modesty, I cannot tell.” He looked me up and down. “Don’t care a whit either way. The fortress stands because of your timely intervention. Let nothing diminish that feat, or what gratitude is owed to you.”

“Come.” He beckoned. With a groan, I followed his strides, my longer legs allowing me to slow alongside him. We passed marching troops, couriers being dispatched with reports, mercenaries heading to loot what they could and people emerging from designated habitat towers.

A fairly long climb later, we emerged atop the wall and gazed down into the massive pit the fortress ringed.

It was a charnel house. Corpses lay strew in the thousands, the full might and fury of all the fortress’s defenders unleashed into the swarm as it had emerged. There was nary a patch of land empty, all covered in strew, broken bodies. Sections of wall crumbled, eaten through by acid barrages and hewn apart by claws.

“You’ve rendered us a great service this day.” The armor-clad man spoke solemnly. “One that will not, and should not soon be forgotten. The tunnel you held very likely saved the fortress. The wave, this horde was far larger than any we had seen or prepared for. If they broke through, they would have overrun the castle from the inside.”

“Why even have a tunnel such as that?” I questioned. “If the point is to keep them contained, would a solid wall of rock not be better?”

“We tried that, aye. They just swarmed up the walls and ran over them. Lost many good soldiers in those first few attempts. Then the elf insisted on the tunnel, and we found they instead flood towards it. The easiest route, you see. There were still more than came up the walls, but those were repelled.”

It made sense. They could cut through steel, yet the funnel created by said tunnel would attract them all toward one place, where, in theory the ranged volleys could crush them. That theory had been largely disproven today.

“And yet.” I gestured back, down to where soldiers struggled to pull the massed corpses from the tunnel’s mouth.

“Aye.” He sighed in acknowledgment. “We did have some semblance of a plan for that.”

“My plan.” Came a tired voice as Velton appeared before us, announced by the air itself splitting with a sharp crack. “One that, while no properly implemented, would have failed anyway. I expected a rational increase in the number of beasts sent while they tested the defenses. Instead, it found a weakness and flooded much, much more than I thought the dungeon would.”

“Master elf.” The commander nodded. “I see you two are acquainted?’

“Indeed.” He acknowledged with tired eyes.

“What was your plan, then?”

There came a frankly exhausted sigh as he quickly conjured images in the air to help an explanation.

“They would be forced through the tunnel and out of a controlled choke-point, where there would be a mass of armed guards and mages stationed to greet them. If all went according to plan, they would pour out, right into a ritual spell I had prepared for the baron’s mages to trigger.”

“Time Slow. Within a selected bubble, this would force those caught inside it into a glacial pace, allowing those defending to accurately pick them off. However, the sheer crush of bodies the dungeon sent would have eaten through the available mana so fast I doubted it would make a difference.”

“I see.” Was all I could give.

“I will need to prepare something else for the next assault. So same tactic works twice against the monsters. The swarm watches, and it learns. I fear these are the worst sort of foes.”

With that, he headed off along the wall, pausing the repair sections through his magic.

“As he said, your ferocity and prowess held the fortress for another day.” Commander North smiled tiredly. “Ask anything of me, and I will see you rewarded for it. I fo not forget those who render me aid.”

“Some coin would not go amiss.” I grunted and observed the feast for crows that lay below. “Although, I do have another request.”

“Simply ask.”

“Have your men bring several cartloads of those carcasses to my farm. I assume you know where it is.”

He shrugged and said that yes, he was aware.

“I have given my word, and it shall be so.”

Once more, I found my gaze back towards the dungeon. It’s entrance stood in the middle of a cliff face, it’s entirety ringed by the massive fortress.

“He made this, didn’t he?’ I gestured around.

“The elf? Aye, he did the bulk of the magical conduggery, helped on by Lord Ironmoor’s resident wizards and sorcerers. A great feat in its own right, but something within the realm of possibility with his kind.”

We watched as Velton’s distant form levitated an entire broken section of wall back up, the rock fusing back into its original placement.

“Mages.” I nodded, my first real taste of what the arcane could do fresh upon my mind.

“Indeed. Too fanciful for a simple man like me. My work is done through steel and strength, my battles won with bravery and good supply trails. Let those who play with the Gods’ gifts stay focused upon my enemies, and not on me, I say.”

A good way of thinking of it.

“Now come. Your rewards awaits.”

With that, he led the way back down the walls, pausing every so often to issue orders and sign some parchment or other presented by an endless flows of people come to seek him out.

But he held his promise, and before long, we were at a tower I found to be his command center.

Before long, I was one heavy coinpurse richer, my pack retrieved from where I had mercifully had the sense of mind to shed it outside the walls. Cold kissed my hide once more, and with the chillvines slung over my shoulder, I set off back down the mountain.

Tiredness gripped every limb I possessed and some I perhaps did not as I staggered into the yard come evening. Within me lay just enough strength to gesture a greeting towards Ishila and Gol as they looked on. The climb up the hill towards my lodge was the longest I had ever endured, and the pillow had just barely touched my cheek before sleep dragged me under.

Unique Class/Race Skill: Brazen Bull Behemothgranted.

Your actions please the Gods Above.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!