One Moo'r Plow

Book 1: Chapter 4: Bouncing and brawling.

Life was sheer, blissful happiness when I awoke.

I had a soft bed, a farm of my own, no immediate enemies that I was aware of. But most importantly, I was a level two Farmer. My breakfast simmered on two separate pans as I stretched in the cool, wet air of morning, content.

A random train of thought led me to contemplate the realities of this world as I flipped meat around on the pan.

Did people here take as many classes as they possibly could? Gareks vague, hazy memories implied not. There was a strong aversion to even the thought inside the minotaurs mind. Our mind. Creeped me out, some mornings, waking up with another mans lifetime of memories just beneath the surface.

Like moving into an empty house and seeing all the ghosts there.

Honestly, I had very little to complain about, with my new lot in life. But old habits die hard. I could be an ungrateful cunt, or I could take my newfound advantages and expound on them.

Garek had passed, after a life obviously doing what he loved. And now, I was the one to take up his name. I was Garek now.

I would not be Garek the slayer, the berserker, the destroyer. I would be Garek the builder, the farmer.

But first I would be a destroyer of these roots.

Breakfast scarfed down, I simply sat beneath the massive tree and gazed out over my land. The long grass fairly sparkled with dew in the morning light, a view made all the sweeter in the knowledge it was mine. The last of the meat was being smoked upon the covered racks, nearly finished. With a sigh of contention, I grabbed my axe, heaved myself up and got to work.

There was a considerable pile of both stones and twisted roots by the time afternoon came. But, to my satisfaction, the overgrown field was largely clear. Now came the fun part. It took me little time to gather what I needed next. With rope and plough carried in either hand, I stomped back to the fields.

The plough I jammed into the earth, the deeper the better. The rope went through the ploughs handles, and then over my shoulders. Forget a team of oxen, it was time to see how strong I really was. With some length loose behind me, I gripped tight and began to walk. Eyes focused on the far end of the field, I braced and called for Reckless Charge.

Acceleration came immediately enough to almost induce motion sickness. I hit the end of the rope and just kept going. Hooves crashed into the soil below and the half-buried plough behind gouged clean through the earth. Buried weeds, roots, stones were all simply ripped loose as the unstoppable force of my new body simply refused to relent.

There was no such as tiredness when inside the skill, I quickly learned. It was intended to reach the enemy as quickly as possible and menial things like exhaustion simply were not considered. I charged up and down the fields at an exhilarating pace. Dirt and rocks spewed in my wake as I gashed the land asunder.

It was..fun. Something that would have bored me to death back home when I did it by machine was now a source of enjoyment. That felt strange, in all the best ways.

So caught up in the task was I that I failed to notice an intruder until it was too late.

There was a massive, crimson form in my yard. I noticed the fur atop armored plates that covered its entire body, then the fanged, pointed face. Then the sheer amount of meat that hung from its maw as it stood over a flipped smoke-rack.

The horror on my face must have given some god out there a gutful of laughter, but I was far from amused. With a scream of rage, I was charging across the field as the massive armored bear-thing gulped down the meat that was to be my substance. I was not pulling that cart back to town anytime soon.

The bear took one look at me, smelled my fury and decided he was going to fuck off.

With a sheepish roar, it turned, tail tucked and began to lope into the woods. Strips of what looked like rotten flesh flapped from between the chinks in its armored plates as the thing fled. Eyes wide with anger and a swirl of other emotions, I followed, fists clenched.

I barreled through the undergrowth, broken trees and gouged out earth in my wake. A crimson form bounced along ahead, a thief trying to escape. I was halfway up the slope when remembrance that I possessed skills slapped my brain.

Faster. I needed to go faster. I called Shed Coat, and felt the fur spill from my body, yet little happened. Another use, but I only gained the small burst in speed.

The armored bear-thing barreled out of trees and into another clearing when I finally smarted up enough to use Cloven Crash. A roar burst from my throat, directed at the thief. It froze, and I knew its muscles had locked up. It was then I realized that I was on a collision course with an armored behemoth as tall as myself. Without a weapon in hand.

My fists would do.

I had enough sense to call Thickened Fur and Reckless Charge before I barreled into the massive form with my shoulder down.

Wasnt my first time tangling with a bear. I roared in its face as it twisted around on impact. Stopped a swiped claw with my hand and punched it in the chest. The blow staggered it backwards and I was upon it, sheer fury and anger. A long tongue whipped out and snapped me across the face. I didnt care.

I had no words, only rage. Only fury. Judicious kicks from massive hooves sent the beast backwards, and crashing fists kept it reeling. Gareks memories bubbled to the surface, and I knew where to strike in order to kill. I didnt. The punches devolved into grapples, and soon the ground and sky were turning round and round as we wrestled.

A headbutt as it tried to bite dazed me slightly, but I refused to let go. Until, finally, I was exhausted. The monster lay on the ground before me, played out with its head bowed in submission.

Dont you ever, I gasped, in short supply of breath. Steal from me again, you hear?

It whimpered in acknowledgement as I slumped to the ground. The fast, hard rush of adrenaline had winded down, and now the jitters set in. Some things never did change.

I looked it up and down as I sat, panting for breath. It was a big, rotund thing. Not a bear, not a badger. Something in between, covered in crimson fur and crimson armor. My nose wrinkled from the smell as I noticed the strips of flesh that hung loose between the carapace plates. An oversweet aroma wafted from them. It was a giant amalgamation of nature. A freak.

Like me, I supposed.

Through the faint tinges of my anger -at the temporary loss of food i could replace-, I did feel a bit sorry for the beast. Its belly did not bulge from food, but obvious malnourishment. It whined, head between its paws, sore from the thorough thrashing I had applied on it.

In a world where I could be anything, I chose to be kind.

It flinched as I approached, too worn and beaten to move. Shied away as I slowly stretched my hand out to it. I held it there for a moment, let it sniff at my scent and hoped it wouldnt suddenly bite my fingers. Real stupid way to lose some important bits and pieces.

Was it irrational and entirely idiotic to attempt to befriend a wild beast I had just chased and pummeled into submission?? Yes, no doubt about it.

I was doing it anyway.

Look. I muttered awkwardly after a while. Im going home. You can come around if you want to. Maybe Ill even feed you a bit. But if you try to steal my shit I'm going to thrash you again.

It gave no indication that it understood anything I had said. Didnt expect any.

Damn well didnt expect the figure that stood at the clearings edge when I turned. The bronze huntress stood in silence, almost part of the undergrowth. My eyes went from her, to the absolutely massive greatbow she carried. I didnt know they made arrows javelin-sized in these parts. She stood, dead to the world, quiet and emotionless.

How long had she been there? I had no doubt that those arrows she carried could pierce straight through me. Gareks memories further backed that claim.

My prey. She finally spoke, voice flat. My hunt.

Me or that? I asked, unsteadily trying to bring humor into this.

Doesnt matter now. She retorted, words chopped. Ruined.

With nary another word, she stepped back and vanished into the brush. All that was left was the trees, wind and an uneasy feeling in my gut. I reached down and shakily gave the monster a few rubs on its skull.

Bet on any money I saved your life just now. I exhaled. And if you arent grateful she might be back.

I set off for home, the monster following me from a distance. I suspected the promised food interested it more than my company. Still, I would need a name for it. Couldnt refer to it as the monster forever. Maybe I could even find a use for it.

I momentarily regretted my choice to save the burly thing once I returned to the farm. Even as I emerged from the trees, I could see the splintered smoke-racks, strewn meat and clawed trenches next to the cellar. Without an ounce of shame, it sauntered in after me, pausing only to gobble up stray strands of food it had left behind.

It sat and begged as I tried vainly to eat my own supper in peace. Wide eyes had no effect on me. Nor did its growl whenever I refused it a piece of what I chewed on.

Did you suddenly just turn helpless when I showed up? I asked incredulously when it began to fake weariness upon receiving no food. It was obviously intelligent. Just smart enough to be lazy, in fact. I had no idea what its level was, but monsters' physical attributes were not the only thing that increased for every threshold they crossed.

This was what made high-level monsters so dangerous. Not just their raw strength and experience, but the intelligence the system chose to mete out to them. Garek didnt care about that. Hell, to him, an intelligent opponent just meant a better challenge. But I was trying to build a farm and he wasnt.

That night, thoroughly alarmed by the information I stumbled upon, I drifted off to sleep. Dreading the day the wolves outside learned to make molotovs. The general idea might have sounded amusing to some, but I sure as shit wasn't laughing.

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