Day 13 - The Farmer and the Fighter
Tiller was shaky. His body hurt every which way, his head was spinning. He was excited to meet another human. He had thought he was the only one until Spinner had mentioned Cutter. Of all the possible questions that came to mind, the one he voiced was…
“Can you hear it too?”
Cutter cocked an eyebrow, then turned that big square jaw as he glanced upwards, and raised both eyebrows in question, “You mean that?”
Tiller nodded, eyes widening.
Lita hummed over to stop by Cutter. “Hear what, bruh? Aw, no, dude, you both got the same crazy? That totally sucks. Weird kinda crazy if you’re both talking to the same imaginary friend though…”
Tiller glanced at the construct, then back to Cutter. He was too flustered to organize his thoughts. He said, “I’m not really flustered…”
Cutter said, “Gonna be real strange to have a conversation with narration.”
Tiller smiled, a weak laugh even contorting his aching lungs. “I guess we’ll figure it out.”
A voice, shrill and panicked and high, cut through the scene. They spun to face the sound, Tiller expecting to see Maeve. It was Pod who stood, mouth gaping. “Oh shit and fuck! You killed Bonk! Oh shit! What are we gonna do?”
Tiller took a step, body sagging from his injuries. “That was the whole point, Pod! That’s why we hired the twins!”
Pod held up his hands, shaking his head firmly. “Oh no! You’re not puttin’ that on me, you’re not! I’m not responsible for anything I do when I’m in my cups! Especially with Spinner’s brew!”
Tiller said, “I’m not sure that’s how it-”
Pod staggered over, looking at the corpse, face in dread. “‘Sides! This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be! The twins were meant to knock him off and none be the wiser! Now we’ve a body! A Bonk fucking body! What the shit are we gonna do?”
Cutter looked at the little blue man and snorted, “Huh. Poppa Smurf? Cool.”
Pod fixed Cutter with a savage glare. The muscular man didn’t seem offended or terribly bothered. “There’s no law out here outside the walls. There’s no murder or anything! Shit, I sure hope there’s not, or we’re in a heap of trouble, eh Lita?”
The construct buzzed, “Bruh! Company! New company! Icksnay on the Ita-lay”
“Huh. Sorry. Stone robot.” Cutter returned his attention to Tiller. “Since we got to Medley we’ve been taking contracts and we’ve gone and killed a mess of things. Nothing as big and nasty as this lump of dead green bastard right here, but we’ve killed plenty. There’s no law outside the town walls.”
Pod speared a finger at Cutter. “No! There’s not! That means there’s no law to protect us either!”
Cutter said, “Huh?”
Pod pointed at Bonk’s corpse. “He’s got kin all over. And they’re all as big as him!”
Cutter said, “Fighters?”
Pod bared his teeth. “A couple. T’won’t matter either way, they’re all as big, and there’s a shit ton of them! They’ll kill us all and burn this whole place down to the ground.”
Tiller felt his heart rate elevate, but kept a handle on himself. “Relax, Pod. Just relax. We can figure this out. It’s not like they’ll be right behind him.”
Maeve had crept out to join the voices, and more timidly than she usually spoke, said, “And what if he told his kin he was coming here?”
Tiller’s eyes raked over the ground to where the surviving goblin lay unconscious. “He’ll know. I doubt Bonk dragged them back home before he came here. Norris… er, or Teodric, here will know.”
Pod snarled, “He’s not a geyser of answers though, is he? Have you thought about what he’ll do when he wakes up?”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Tiller said, “What?”
Pod vibrated with something like anger. “You got his brother killed so you did! That’ll go down a treat!”
Cutter stepped in, arms raised, voice loud, “Okay! Okay! Let’s calm this shit down and get our heads together. I wanna talk. Why don’t we do something with big green and ugly and then settle down.”
Tiller looked at Norris or Teodric and said, “Shouldn’t we do something for him?”
Cutter pursed his lips. “Nope. He’ll come to or he won’t.”
Lita was incensed, “BRUH! He like totally saved your life!”
Cutter spat back, “Nu-uh! I had it handled.”
Lita stared at him, held his gaze, and eventually Cutter said, “Okay, okay. He definitely helped. But man, those potions are expensive.”
Tiller watched Cutter reach into a sachet that was attached to his weapon belt like a bum bag. His arm disappeared, all the way to the elbow as he rummaged. “Pretty cool, huh? Bag of holding! Like, legitimately! Had to make some modifications, it had a bit of a hand-bag vibe when I got it. Still it’s pretty…” He then pulled free, grasping a small red bottle, “sweet.”
Tiller said, “Sometimes I think I’m getting used to this place…” His eyes went from the bag, to the talk-stone construct, then to Cutter… “And then it just does something else. That’s a healing potion then? I bet that costs a bundle.”
Cutter said, “You’ve got no idea. But fair play and turn about and all that shit.”
The big man knelt by the goblin and uncorked the bottle. He parted the pierced green lips, mild distaste playing on his face, and poured the contents into his mouth.
In moments the eyes popped open. Tiller saw the bruises and bleeding all recede, though not completely disappear.
The goblin shot upright to a seated position, eyes wide, “What? Oh dear! Where am I now…”
His nasty little eyes scanned the faces, took in the scenery and the confusion melted into one of horror, “Oh… no… Theodric… Heavens spare us…”
Tiller winced, unsure. He watched as Norris twisted and saw the head of his brother. “Oh woe! Oh say it’s not so! Oh brother mine!”
Norris scrambled on all fours to his brother’s head and picked it up, clutching it to his chest, “Oh brother! Confidant! It cannot have come to this… oh Theodric…”
No one spoke. The display of grief was too sincere. Cutter more than anyone seemed perplexed by the dialect and the emotion coming from a fairy-tale villain.
Norris hunched over, sobbing, holding the head to his chest. After a moment, Tiller said, “Should we… should we give you a little space? ’Sides, Norris?”
The green face looked up, the picture of distraught anguish. He sniffled and nodded. “If you’d be so kind. I do apologize for this ghastly display of unrepressed emotions but… well, you see…”
Tiller held his hands up, desperate to be free of the scene, “No! No, no. I understand. I’d be no different if… an ogre had… pulled my brother’s head off. Why don’t you take your time. We’re here for you, come join us when you’re ready. Or shout. Or whatever. I’m really sorry, Norris.”
Norris sniffled again, “It is better to have loved and lost… but it doesn’t make the loss any easier… oh Theodric… You were too beautiful for this world…”
Tiller backed away, seeing that the rest of the party had already retreated to the leprechaun burrow. Maeve was bustling about as she did, heating water for tea. Cutter was already sprawled on the ground by the fire, looking like he’d been to football practice more than a murder scene.
Pod said, “Use your Earth sigil to make Bonk scarce, eh?”
Tiller tapped the sigil, dulled out. “It’s tapped. I used it all up in the fight.”
Pod said, “Well t’ other one then. The shovel. Make him scarce and make it quick. If his kin see what we did…”
Tiller turned back from the fire. He was aching to speak to Cutter. He was aching to have answers. More than anything else, he was just aching, his body nearly broken by the fight.
But he did the work. He dug down with the shovel, but met the flat white of the floor before the hole was deep enough for the body. Cutter lumbered over and a sigil glowed on his wrist as he rolled the huge corpse into the hole. Cutter was forced to mound more earth on top to conceal the body completely. When he was finished a very suspicious heap of earth remained.
Cutter laughed, “That is so obviously a grave!”
Tiller grimaced. Lita hummed over, holding a couple of shredded stalks of broken crops, and stuck them on top of the mound, turning to the others, blue eyes rising on the black panel.
Cutter said, “No better, buddy.”
Tiller felt worry starting to nag at him. Pod barely seemed to care if he pissed himself; his alarm at the danger of the other ogres finding the body was starting to infect him. Casting about, he called, “Bean? Hey, Bean!”
The vegetation nearest them rustled and the pipkin slinked out, alarmed and cautious.
Cutter laughed, “No way! That’s a freakin’ poke-ee-mon! This place is the best!”
Tiller cast him an odd look, then asked the pipkin, “Could you, uh, do your thing, buddy? Did you fire your shots yet today?”
A hesitant, “Yip,” and Bean hopped up the mound, sank his tail into the earth, and in a confetti explosion of greenery had done at least something to make the grave seem a little less grave-like.
Cutter said, “So, haha, looks like we’re going to have a nice cup of tea. There are worse ways to start getting to the bottom of this I guess. But, I gotta know, I’ve been kinda assuming, you’re not from, like, around here, are you?”
Tiller said, “Are you asking if I was basically isekaied here from Earth?”
Cutter nodded. “Yeah, I had a feeling. Nobody seems to know what a hoo-man is. How long are you here?”
Tiller said, “Thirteen days… you?”
Cutter said, “Same.” Then shook his head, “This is so fucking weird.”
Tiller said, “I know! Right? It’s a worn-out trope and now it’s happened to me! Oh man, I’ve got so much to ask you! Have you seen the shopkeeper? What’s going on that brought us here? On the same day? Maybe we can put our heads together, figure out another way…”
Cutter said, “What? No, not that! Well, I guess that’s weird too. But seriously, why would I dream another human in like this? And if I did, why wouldn’t it be Anissa Kate? Shit…”
How do we feel about Grim?
