One Moo'r Plow

The notion that I would need metal to protect my skin seemed almost laughable as I gazed at Garek’s old, polished set of armor. I had worn it perhaps once now, and it seemed that in all honesty, I was better off without it. My skin was already naturally tough, and with the relevant skills, that could be enhanced to a level that the steel could not hope to match.

A moment of clarity struck me and I leaned back, caught in sudden thought. Ironhide was strong, yes, but how much of it was enhanced by Gold Is Power? I lacked a baseline to go off of as I had the boosting effects of said skill activated before being forced to use the former’s protection. Garek’s foggy memories did little to provide aid. There were glimpses of faint battles where the mind remembered usages. These indicated that there had been a time where it was just strong enough to deflect an axe-swing. Yet another, further memory showed of a time when it could stop a war-lance at full charge.

A time when Garek was at the height of his wealth, perhaps? The minotaur had been, well, rich. I had merely taken what I could carry and walked away, and those resources still gave me a massive advantage. Now that I was assembling wealth myself, I could begin to climb back to the heights he had once achieved.

There was pressure about me as the System continued its insistence that I pick a Skill after my last level-up, yet I continued to ignore it. I had come this deep, and I wanted to see the full extent to which I could hold out.

Instead, I chose to focus on my current task. With the armor set back to its stand, I instead turned to survey the rest of the lodge. Ishila toiled away at the far counter, all my available harvested monster-plants asleep within containers of spore-dust. Biter-pods, the remaining bomb-bursts, flasks of acid, and a single small, perfectly sealed cube that countained soil, dust and a plant I had not meddled with in a long time.

Experiments with the mimicseed had, after great reluctance, produced bags of hybrids that had been dosed with far more spores than any others. Dangerous as I regarded these things, this was it. All stops pulled out, no holds barred. This would be do or die. And I intended to have all available advantages on my side, morals be damned.

“You’re sure about coming?” I proposed the question to Ishila once she had turned.

“Sure as I’ve ever been.” The orc nodded. She had a set, stoic air about her, a focused calm that stripped away any vestige of her usual cheer.

“Just making sure. You’ve had some bad experiences. Nobody would protest if you decided to stay home.”

“Hmm.” She shrugged. “Wouldn’t be any adventurer worth a damn if I let one setback put me down for good, would I?’

“Well I suppose not, but taking time to heal is something crucial to wellbeing both physical and mental.”

Again, she simply looked at me with a curious expression.

“I’m of sound mind and body, Garek. Nothin’ is weighin’ me down.” She wasn’t lying either, her scent told me.

“What you endured in the dungeon could shatter many people I knew before. Sudden violent deaths, danger, pain and agony. I shrivel to think of experiencing those myself were I in your body.”

“I’m an orc, Garek. Bloodshed, war and death are so deeply ingrained in my race that it is an everyday thing. I realize this might shock some others, but it’s who I am. Yah, it would weigh other races down, but not one of such as me. My people grew up on seas of sand and oceans of blood. Everythin’ an orc has ever wanted, they had to fight an’ bleed for.”

I had wondered how she had been holding up so remarkably well, and here lay my answer. Instead of being deeply traumatized by the horrific experience, it had simply slid off her mind by virtue of her race.

“I’ll trust you on this.” I nodded solemnly after a short time. And that was that. This concluded, I turned back and began the task of attempting to organzie all my supplies into a neat, carryable position. While my belt did possess places to hook things onto, they were not enough. I would need spaces for flasks of healing milk, bags of various plants and containers of acid.

I was going to need a better belt.

It was about right then that the pressure in my skull increased to frankly unbearable levels. With a defeated sigh, I realized this was as far as resistance could take me. This had been inevitable.

“Fine.” I grunted to no one in particular. “Show me the choices.”

Finally.

I blinked as the words resonated in my skull. The usual robotic scrawl was lost, replaced by something that oozed exasperation.

Before I could contemplate this further, a litany of choices were all but shoved down my throat.

Safety in Stone caught my eyes first. It promised tiny sentinels that lingered around and in piles of rock around any of the lands I owned and would alert me to danger, prespassers and other irregularities. In the mental image projected by the System, this skill, while useful, had rather limited range.

The Fields Shall Flourish offered deeper roots and better water absorption for any plants I grew. While useful, not something I was in dire need of at the moment.

Wild Friend. The sense that I had only been offered this because of where my farm was set up came to mind immediately. Rather simple, it’s effect was to make wild creatures that came across my property less prone to damage anything, could repel low-level monsters and make it easier to befriend creatures.

Prepare the Harvest was the final one, and while it would have tempted me a week ago, it was the one I discarded the first. The promise of a quicker post-harvest process might interest some, but to me it felt like the worst skill to take.

For now, I stood and pondered. These were all moderately useful Skills, and the opportunity to acquire more would not be present for a while after this. Each selection promised to nudge the farm in a different direction. Quicker growth if watered was something I considered, but it did not explicitly offer this, but instead simply to better retain available water. Friendlier wildlife might have tempted me, but insofar I had very little interaction anyhow.

In the end, Safety in Stone seemed the logical choice. I could put the piles of stone in my fields to good use, and the ability to detect intruders was invaluable to me. This task would have fallen on Gol’s nominal shoulders, but we both knew the reality of that.

Conviction in my choice, I selected that, and felt something new flood into me.

The choice is made. Until next time.

And just like that it was gone, leaving me to wonder what had happened. Ishila laughed as I described this her.

“Ah yeah.” She grinned. “The breakthrough changes a few things. Seein’ as you proved your worth and maybe attracted the attention of some minor God by surpassing the seal, you’ll now have an actual messenger deliver you words from the Gods Above instead of the usual lifeless scribbles everyone else gets.”

Well, that certainly threw me for a loop. To me, the Gods Above existed as faraway, mythical powers I would never have to interact with, and now one might be watching me like I was prime reality entertainment. A strange feeling.

I chose not too let that bother me overly much. Realistically, there was little it changed and even less that could be done about it.

“Some folks chose to use this, I’ve been told.” Ishila mentioned once I had relayed my thoughts to her. “Always tryin’ to please and entertain whatever deity is watchin’ them to get some boons or gifts.”

“Seems like it’d be exhausting after a time.” I commented idly.

“Agreed.”

With that said, I left Ishila to her preparations and strode out into evening’s fading late, off towards the fields. The stone piles simply existed exactly where I had left it, with no noticeable changes. With a curious nudge, I focused upon it and called Safety in Stone. A small rumble emerged from with the rocks once a few heartbeats had passed. Rocks were shoved aside and a small, crude stone form wriggled it’s way out. About a foot high, the moving rocks faintly resembled a humanoid, with rocky legs, torso, arms and a head-shaped lump mounted on top.

It plopped down upon the top rock as I gazed on with fascination. And then it simply stopped moving. It’s form faced the woods, still and silent. Something opened in my senses, and a vague mental connection formed. It was stolid for now, all else ignored as the construct waited for anything, something to cross it’s vision.

How did it see anyhow? Despite close examination, there was no answer available to me. It resemble a small stature carved from rock, with no visible magic to indicate System interference.

Eventually, my curiosity ran dry, and I lumbered towards another, smaller pile of stone. The sentinel that emerged from this rubble was noticeably compact in comparison to the other. A direct corelation to it’s stone-pile, I guessed. This was further backed up by the other mounds of rock I summosed sentinels atop of. Before long, I had no less than half a dozen rocky denizens seated atop their mountains of rock, overlooking my land.

As I watched, a moss-deer emerged from the trees to nip at a shrub that had been torn loose and tossed around. The sentinel closest to it whipped it’s head around, and, for lack of a better words, a notification flashed in my mind. I suddenly knew there was a non-threatening creature at the edge of my property.

A shout came from the house, Ishila waving at me, something in her hands. I had taken but a dozen steps in that direction when a mental alarm caused me to stumble with sheer intensity. Every sentinel screamed danger with shrill insistence.

The moss-deer made it all of a single bound before an a salvo of obsidian missiles pierced it through the side and pinned it’s shocked form to the ground. Leaves silently parted as something stepped from the trees. I took one look and ripped free my claymore.

Long, sinous and armored in a dark carapace, these monsters were even larger and more horrifying than the horror’s who’s corpses currently fed my biter-pods. A second set of longer, muscled arms grew from it’s back and curved forward over it’s head. Spikes emerged here, freshly regrowth to replace what had been fired at the deer. This creature matched me in size, yet moved in complete silence as it stepped over the shocked, utterly silent animal it had just impaled.

Tehalis had warned me there were monsters that had come over the walls. And now it had come directly to my home.

It was not alone.

Screams of tone resonated through my skull as more emerged all around my farm. Seven, if I could rely on my newly-found sentinels. They stalked towards me in utter silence, without scent or sound. I roared to Ishila that danger was close and called every skill I could hold onto to.

The air distorted as my behemoth stepped into reality, space torn asunder and shockwaves spreading through the air as it roared. Blades of bone emerged from the behemoth’s forearms as astral skin peeled itself back, the danger alongside my intent preparing it for slaughter.

“You too will fall.” I snarled.

Salvos of obsidian missiles were all the reply I recieved. I avoided most of them, even if by mere handspans. One pierced my shoulder from behind, and another my gut as they slid right through my armored skin. Wounds that could have crippled another. Inconveniences to me.

Roar upon my lips and furyslaughter in my heart, I charged. Their blood would whet my fields before the hour was out.

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