Open Chronicles Crop Trouble

[Irman Harefoot]

Allir Reach, a region of much safety and little wealth. Perhaps the most fertile land in all of Epressa, it was once fought over to know end, until decisively it fell into human hands. Not it exists almost silently, protected and exploited by both merchants from Alliria and lords who lay claim back when land disputes still ran hot. It was a silent existence, but an accepted one

“I told you Ma, I heard something out behind the shed. It’s gotta be one of them goblins that tore up cousin peytro’s farm!” The young man tried to tug his spear away from his old mother as she desperately gripped on to it with both hands.

“But Sunny, what if it ain’t?” The old woman pleaded. “Can’t you just wait until Pa and Fred get back and maybe also get the guards to help?”

“By the time they get here it would be too late, I gotta stop em now Ma!” With a sudden yank, Sunny ripped his spear from his mother’s grip— dashing off to the old wooden shed as she sat there tears in her eyes and fear in her heart.

Sunny didn't feel much better, trying to tune out his mother’s cries and cursing the Allirian guard for not being here like they always were in the past. He steadied his breath, clenched his spear, and swung around the shed to see a bull headed man, no less than 10 whole feet tall.

What’s more, the Minotaur was fighting something— a rabbit-man of some kind, dressed in red and green and wielding a sharp looking polearm.

“Best get back to your ‘ma’ fella!” Irman shouted as he dodged a heavy swing from the Minotaur’s wooden club. “This here’s a cut above some hungry goblins.”

 

[Arturo]

The hunter didn’t have a usual route these days. With Ellis enabling more frequent use of the portal stones, he and his group had been able to cover a lot more ground and see a lot more sites, which mostly proved just how much more of the world there was out there to experience. Even still, with his family home in Alliria, the Steppes to the north and the Allir Reach to the east were often traveled roads.

“Didn’t realize it would be this much riding,” Leon grumbled. He and his friend were the newest additions to the team and clearly not used to life on the road.

“You would’ve if you’d been paying attention to me,” Lance grumbled in annoyance.

“I was paying attention to you.”

“You were drunk. You only think you were paying attention.”

Ellis, the group’s alchemist, chuckled. “I didn’t realize you two ladies would talk so much.” Both ex-guardsmen hid their embarrassment differently. Lance laughed. Leon, still nursing some withdrawal from the last tavern a few days ago, grumbled unhappily to himself.

Arturo rode up front with Rhyss, his second in command, content to listen to his team chatter as they traveled past small spread out farms. While the morning had been quiet, as the sun traveled further across the sky, the hunter could feel there was something off. It was oddly quiet here. They saw a few locals working a ways back, but here, there were no people despite the fact they were walking past a small farm. Even the birds and insects were quiet, and that more than anything had him on alert.

Rhyss put a hand on his shoulder and gestured off the road past the farm house, not saying a word. Either he’d seen or heard something and it was enough for Arturo to focus on. He pulled his chestnut to a halt and listened for a few heartbeats.

“Voices. Swinging something heavy,” he said, not able to make out much, but coupled with the strange quiet, it was enough to put him on edge. Arturo didn’t wait for Rhyss’ nod to rein his stallion off the road and around the group of buildings. Of course there were questions behind him, but he left handling the crew to his second.

The minotaur wasn’t as surprising a sight as the being engaged in combat with it. Arturo wasn’t sure what he was looking at precisely. Some sort of furry humanoid in travelling attire, going toe to toe with a beast around three times their size. He spared a glance at the farm boy clutching a spear for dear life and stumbling back against the side of the shed, eyes locked on the bullheaded beast.

Arturo dismounted, spear in hand, but he kept his distance. The [squirrel or rabbit or something from the look of the legs, trying to decide if he was familiar or not considering the variety of monster hunters he’d encountered] seemed to be plenty capable so his first concern was if there were any more combatants. “Are there more of them?” he asked, moving slowly to put himself between the fight and the farmer so he could defend him if necessary and watch the other fighter’s back.

 

[Irman Harefoot]

There was a bone chilling quality to the sound produced by the Minotaur swinging its wooden club. it was a whooshing sound, like that of most clubs, but one so deep and forceful that it felt like death itself was being swung around rather than the uprooted trunk of a tree.

Irman was quick to dodge the brutish swings while Sunny the young farmer pressed himself more and more against the wall of the shed with each heavy thunk of club hitting ground. Those “thunks” for Irman however were moments to strike back at the Minotaur with swift thrusts of his billhook. So Irman kept at it, stabbing and cutting the minotaur’s thick hide as it howled and swung, enraged by how its shear strength couldn’t land a decisive blow.

The approach being displayed was one practiced in the Spine to deal with Minotaurs in piecemeal. An act of baiting out attacks to then find openings to strike. Covering up for the monster’s reach and exploiting its slow thinking.

There was another whoosh and thunk as the Minotaur’s club buried itself in damp mud. This was then shortly followed by a mooing howl as the Rabbit-man stabbed the monster in the leg— then dashing back as the club was ripped back out from the ground.

In most cases it was a strategy meant for a group of at least 3, but here Irman was doing it as only one.

Irman couldn’t help but grin as he wondered what this armed group might be thinking seeing him spin circles around the monster. The Minotaur was beginning to lose speed as blood was spilling out of its wounded limbs and its mouth was frothing with bestial rage. The beast swung into the ground yet again and Irman dashed forward— only for the Minotaur to let go of its club and charge at Irman with its Horns.

Time seemed to slow down as Irman noticed too late that the Minotaur had shifted its legs to prepare for this feint. Questions flooded the mercenary’s mind but he pushed them aside to try and focus on not getting gored. With a twist of his body and a maneuvering of his billhook Irman pushed himself away from the pointed tip of the horn.

But, this then gave the monster to flick its neck and send the rabbit-man flying into the wall of the shed. The small wooden structure promptly collapsed as the young farmer threw himself to the ground in a panic and his elderly mother let out a terrified scream as she could only guess at what was causing the shed to collapse.

 

[Arturo]

Arturo leaned against his spear, taking the silent focus from the beast-man as a sign there wasn't anything else around. Minotaurs weren't notably pack animals, so while he didn't drop his guard, he didn't intervene. He watched the rabbit-man carefully, from his quick dodges to the way he rounded the minotaur. Especially notable with how heavy the club sounded as it thunked sickeningly into the mud. The weapon was nearly the size of the one facing it.

He watched the expert work, darting in on powerful hindlegs to tear his small, curved blade into the beast's legs. He'd not had the luxury of the speed nor space to fight a minotaur in such a way, but like with similar large prey, it was ideal, especially with weapons that lacked reach. It would have been a lot easier and faster with a few more hands, but considering how quick the rabbit-man moved, he didn't seem to need it.

Before he had the chance to compliment his navigating the fight with an encouraging shout, the minotaur wised up just a little. He was fast, enough to avoid getting gored thankfully, but not fast enough.

One step and a loud swear Arturo closer to the charging minotaur and was enough for him to know he wouldn't be fast enough to directly stop the beast nor to aid the rabbit-man's landing. His arena instincts kicked in and Arturo stepped in between the enraged and panting minotaur and the collapsed shed. Hopefully it had served to break the other's flight. "Hey, amigo," Arturo mumbled to the minotaur to himself. "Sad to tell you it's not a fair fight now," he added as they stared at each other for a moment.

His team was still moving from the road around the house, those that were fighters a bit faster with the sound of the shed coming down. "Arturo?" Rhyss asked, voice alarmed but not surprised to find the hunter squaring off with something dangerous. The second had his hand out to Lance and Leon to stop the guards as they rushed up. The others stayed on the far side of the shed.

"Check the shed," Arturo ordered, briefly, and his second gestured to the guards to who immediately began pulling planks and thatching away from the figure there, though both men hesitated upon seeing the strange being beneath. Rhyss, on the other hand, was much more accustomed to oddities and had no problem offering a hand or other aid to the man. "Not dead yet, I hope?" was Rhyss' first question, his refined tone somehow playful and concerned.

Having seen the whole fight and the lack of blood, Arturo had high hopes the rabbit-man was still in one piece. But his current focus bellowed, ire fully fixed on the maroon and black clad spear wielder, and then launched itself in much the same fashion at him. Arturo angled his spear and side stepped, feeling the horns brush his jacket as the minotaur half turned and whipped his head back as he missed. His spear caught the beast in the side though and he twisted the handle and pivoted as not to be dragged through the mud.

It's back to the group at the shed, bleeding heavily form his legs and side, the minotaur drew itself to full height and prepared to lunge again.

 

[Irman Harefoot]

—And lunge it did, coming at Arturo with its horns lowered for another charge. Then it began to thrash with its heavy hands and dense hooves. Most of the swings were wild and easy to read, but some were deceitful like the quick shift in attacking that had sent the rabbit-man flying.

“So it was a feint!” Irman exclaimed, pulling himself out of the collapsed shed. He watched the monster’s movements closely, paying no heed to the words his rescuers were trying to speak to him. Irman knew from experience that some Minotaurs were smarter than others, but he had never heard of one this big being anything more than an animal that could hold a weapon in its hand.

“Course my luck runs me into a freak of nature.”

The rabbit-man dusted himself off and stood to go rejoin the fight, but staggered as he felt a couple splinters lodged into his side. Curses were grumbled as Irman plucked the pieces of wood out of himself, silently thankful that they seemed annoyances more than heavy wounds.

Meanwhile, the young farmer had found his drive to move after being thrown to the ground. He took to a sprint away from the fighting as quickly as he could manage.

 

[Arturo]

The rest of the hunter's party seemed more or less amused by the beast-man's reaction. They were used to hunters these days, and how singular their focus could be, either on a fight or a monster in general. So much so that even personal injury seemed to come second. Rhyss gave the rabbit a once over and while he seemed in one piece, he had hit that shed hard. Especially if one only looked at the shed.

The two guards turned their attention and drawn swords to the minotaur and Arturo as the creature came at him again. They kept their distance uncertainly though as the hunter did his best to sidestep and duck away from horns and shoulders and kicks as the beast resorted to whatever tactic it could to crush him. Arturo wasn't nearly as elegant as the rabbit-man had been, but he had a good read of most of its moves, if barely.

Until he was caught off guard by a feint to the right and while he managed to correct, he wasn't fast enough. So rather than be too slow and get himself gored, he twitched back the other way, into the charging beast. The minotaur's broad head slammed into the hunter's shoulder, the impact jarring and causing him to drop his spear. Arturo jumped at the same time, using the momentum to throw himself up and over the beast. He rolled over the back, pulled a smaller dagger from his belt and slamming it into the minotaur's side as he fell. His failure to stick the landing didn't matter so much as the blade carved through hide and flesh.

The beast staggered, stumbling into his massive club with a bellow. Leon stepped up and finished the collapsed minotaur with a blade to the back of the skull while Lance stepped up to Arturo and offered him a hand out of the mud.

"You should have waited."

"Move faster?" Arturo said with a grin, cleaning the dagger and sheathing it before he wiped some mud from his jacket. Not that it wasn't a bit stained and in need of a wash all the time, but it looked clean enough. He pressed a hand to his shoulder with a wince. already bruised, most likely.

"I should drop you," Lance thought out loud. They both knew Lance was too mellow to mean it.

"Probably," Rhyss chimed in which earned a glare from Arturo. Some friend. He chose to ignore his team for the moment.

The hunter stepped over to the minotaur's hulking form where Leon was crouched beside the unmoving form already. "You're quite a skilled fighter," he noted approvingly, glancing over at the stranger. Arturo wasn't much for parading his kills. Even if a lot of creatures in the wilds were dangerous, even if they threatened other people, he still didn't take much joy in killing. But a minotaur on a family farm this close to a main road wasn't just dangerous, it was odd. Perhaps not as odd as the rabbit adventurer who had arrived just in time to save the family, but certainly a larger problem. "What has a minotaur all the way out here?" he mused aloud.

 

[Irman Harefoot]

“Not skilled enough to keep all the hunting money to myself… though I’m certainly appreciative of the help don’t get me wrong.”

Irman brushed himself off and pulled a long smoking pipe from his person. As he continued to talk, he readied it with practiced precision.

“As for that question of yours, feels like each day that passes there’s something new to struggle to explain. Word of amassing orcs up north that’s got the blue bloods spooked, Alliria’s knight commander disappearing to who knows where, and freak occurrences like our horned friend here showing up deeper in the reach than they have any business to.”

There was a slight pause as Irman took a deep inhale of fresh pipe smoke.

“It’s honestly starting to feel like—”

“Is it dead?” Asked a voice.

It was the young farmer and his elderly mother running from the farmhouse and across the muddy ground. They ran straight past Irman, who turned away to smoke his pipe, and stopped just in front of Arturo with looks of hope and disbelief all over their faces.

“I can’t believe that giant monster actually went down!” The son exclaimed, “I thought it was going to kill me and destroy the farm!” As he said this, tears were welling up in the old woman’s eyes. She apologized that they didn’t have much to give as reward or that her husband and other son weren’t here to offer thanks as well.

 

[Arturo]

The hunter shrugged. He wasn't so skilled a fighter to be travelling solo either. But then again, a larger party meant larger game. And less things for one person to carry. In general, he didn't particularly care about money. But he wasn't just a hunter to help people. It was a way to make a living and traveling so often with this many people required funds. He wasn't about to say no, but nor was he trying to compete with a fellow hunter. Even less so if this one happened to be in the same faction.

He hummed in understanding. He had heard about the knight-commander from his family, though was surprised they hadn't turned up by now. Even if they did, it was still strange. The orcs were a rumor he had heard but not had confirmed, so while not surprising, he was unsure the extent of their gathering. He didn't have a problem with orcs in general, but any group of people could do harm to others. It all depended on what they were intending.

The rabbit-man's broader concern seemed to be that there was something else at play, as if everything was interconnected. It might well be, he supposed. A surge in monster activity was often a symptom of something greater. Arturo stepped away from the minotaur to collect his spear, watching the small man smoke casually. Probably his way of destressing from the fight. The hunter got a better look at him now. Colorful travelling attire, some armor, a small armory on his waist, green feather cap, dark eyes, furry barefoot covered in mud, some blood staining his side below the armor. Clearly he had been through a lot. As for what he was...Arturo wasn't sure. He had heard of beast men, though often they were more animal than man, not possessing higher intelligence nor the digital dexterity to handle tools or smoke. But this man was something else. He thought perhaps he had seen someone similar at one of the Noct Yaegir keeps, but he wasn't sure. Arturo wasn't exactly a people person.

The hunter pulled out a cloth to wipe the blade of his spear off, not worried quite as much about the rest of it for now. It had been through worse. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, expecting the rest of his team and seeing the farming family instead. the boy from earlier and an older woman. It seemed readily apparent from the boy's question that this wasn't normal and he wasn't very experienced himself. Arturo wondered where the rest of their family was. Hopefully not killed by this thing.

the woman said her husband and son weren't here, which sounded like they were away but he had to check. "Is anyone hurt?" the rabbit-man seemed to be the most cause of concern there.

The farmwife shook her head, still struggling to hold back tears.

"Considering my friend here took out your shed...I think we call it even," he said, glancing at the rabbit-man. Even if they had money, he liked to agree on contracts before he ended a fight. He wasn't sure this guy's typical work process, but if he wanted to shake this family down for pennies, Arturo wouldn't be stepping into that fight. "Kid," he said, directing his words to the young boy. "Have you seen anything else strange around the farm?"

Sonny's eyes never left the minotaur's corpse. He stumbled over a few words for a moment and then glanced between the rabbit-man and Arturo, failing to answer the question. "You're are so amazing!"

Arturo gestured at Lance and Leon toward the shed they seemed to understand what he wanted without the man needing to say anything. "Not sure about that, but we're alive," he said dryly, looking up at the rest of his team as they drew closer. A few of them also seemed to understand the silent order concerning repairing the shed, the guards already working to sort out structural supports from roofing and siding and contents. Some of it was still standing at least. "Could you take my friend Rhyss around the boundary of your farm? Just to be sure?" Arturo gestured at the elf who nodded and stepped over to introduce himself to the mother. She was still in shock, but nervous of allowing her son to get involved with these men, even if they had saved their lives. The boy nodded though, seeming more than eager to redeem himself.

"Name's Arturo," the hunter added, more for the rabbit-man's benefit than the farmers, half turning to include him. "Yours?"

 

[Irman Harefoot]

“Sovellius!” Replied the young farmer. He had stopped to turn around when Arturo asked his question.“But everyone just calls me Sonny.” Then, as soon he had finished speaking Sonny was off to assure his mother and check the farm’s perimeter.

“I guess that leaves us with the carcass…” Irman said through a plume of smoke. He walked up to Arturo and held out his hand to him. “Irman Harefoot, since you were ask’n.”

Disposing of the Minotaur’s body was a lengthy process, and gory work by all accounts. Too heavy to move and too close to the farm house to leave to rot; all there was to do was butcher the monster as best as possible and burn the rest to prevent stench and wild animals from covering the area.

At first it was just those who were on hand, tearing off the horns for proof of the kill and disposing of excess blood so that it didn’t seep into the ground. Not long after, neighboring farmers and some locals from a nearby settlement arrived to help, including a cleric who was quick to open a tome on the acceptable butchering of monsters.

The cleric was quite insistent on which parts of the Minotaur were permitted to be butchered as the flesh of a bull, and which needed to be burned as the flesh of a man. It was laborious, even with all the hands that came to help.

Not long before the work was done Sonny and Rhyss returned with word that nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. From the crops to the animals to the simple fence that was getting on in years.

Eventually, with the sun half-way between noon and dusk, the deed was done and the Minotaur butchered. The parts of that were deemed too human-like were set on a pyre of the heavy club and shattered shack. While, the rest was bundled for the locals to take back to their farms or off to town. The head, however, would not be eaten and burned but instead taken by the cleric to be an offering at the temple.

“Well, seems like daylight won’t be lastin forever.” Irman said, looking up at sky.

“I’ve been staying at the inn in cyndersdale, right by the adventurer’s guild. Might I assume you and your boys might be wanting to head there too young mr Arturo?”

 

[Arturo]

The hunter raised a curious eyebrow at the young man's fanciful name. It didn't sound like the name of a simple farmer. Then again, his own given name was rather simple for his own upbringing, and he had grown into it in a way his family wasn't keen on. “Jeep an eye on the elf for me, Sonny,” Arturo ordered as the pair headed out.

Harefoot’s offered arm was clasped just below the elbow and held firmly for a moment rather than simply shaken. “Pleasure, Harefoot. Suppose we owe you help with the clean up too,” he said with a nod at the carcass. It couldn't stay, that was for sure.

Arturo's team salvaged what they could of the shed, putting together a sturdy but smaller lean-to out of the scraps under Mateo's shy, nearly silent but firm guidance. He was an impressive engineer, making the square shake easy but not beneath him.

Arturo helped with the minotaur, asking a few questions of Irman about it as he seemed quite well versed in the beasts. While he had fought a few before, none had been this size or as calculating and the hunter was eager to learn. He paused at one point to complete a sketch before most of the carcass was dismembered and add a few notes to his journal beside the other page on minotaurs.

Ellis took some bits and pieces from the minotaur. Tail hair, one of the hooves, the stomach, other bits and pieces he didn't want to know about. The mage was largely an alchemist, and Arturo pointedly didn't pretend to understand their work. They nudged him as he finished his notes, watching the cleric direct what to cut up and sort where.

“Something up with them,” they murmured, not trying to be secretive, but keeping their voice down so the cleric didn't hear.

“With who?” Arturo feigned ignorance.

“This cleric. Why did she save the head?”

“Since when do you hate clerics?:

“I don't. Just this one.”

“You jealous cause she is cute and blonde?”

Ellis stared at him under their large hood, white hair draped to one side. They was unamused. “I wouldn't know.”

Arturo mirrored the expression back. “Blondes are too radiant for you, I see.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re an ass?”

“De ganse tied,” [All the time] he said, unsurprised. But he trusted Ellis and he kept an eye on the stranger. He supposed it was odd that she had turned up. The local farmers made sense, as they were likely all on alert and Sonny and Rhyss might have visited the neighboring farms.

While Irman spearheaded the pyre and Arturo made some notes on the cleric and minotaur anatomy, the rest of his team pitched in where they could. Lance and Leon helping with muscle, Kassia directing an impromptu meal from some of their supplies, some provided by the mother. While Arturo and his team had eaten monster meat, humanoids were…a bit close to home. That was left to the farmers to sort out.

The group slowly dispersed, the farmers and hands back to their homesteads, the cleric and the minotaur head back to a nearby town. At least the name checked out. Arturo had always been good at maps and geography. Less so culture though. Their god preferred monster sacrifices, that wasn’t that strange. Probably.

He looked at the sunset as Irman spoke. It was a lot later than he had thought. Cyndersdale wasn’t too far, though it was the opposite direction of the cleric. That seemed for the best, otherwise Ellis would have him up all night stalking the poor woman.

“Just Arturo,” he prefaced. Titles always tasted funny in his mouth. He knew people liked to be respectful, but he’d provided just his given name because that was what he wished to be called. Granted, his team knew that, and they also know it bothered him to be called ‘boss’ or something similar. “Haven’t stayed in Cyndersdale recently.” He glanced at his group as they were packing up and checking on horses and saying farewell to Sonny and his mother. “We should-”

“Does the inn have open beds?” Rhyss interrupted eagerly, already making puppy dog eyes. “And maybe a bath?”

They hadn’t been more than a day or so from the city and here the elf was acting like they hadn’t seen civilization in weeks.

“Would be nice to not share a tent,” Ellis’ turn.

“My old bones can’t handle the ground anymore.” Kassia. Who was old, for a dwarf even, but not as ancient as she made out to be.

Arturo kept his gaze on Irman, folded his arms and breathed out slowly. “We should be careful on the roads at night so staying in town sounds ideal,” he said, as if that was what he was planning to say all along.

He glanced over at Sonny and tossed a wave. “You take care,” he said simply, though there was more buried in the words. Watch out for his mother, stay safe, they would keep an eye out for his father and brother. But he didn’t say. That all felt too dramatic anyway and Arturo knew some people didn’t appreciate having hunters around. They might follow trouble, but some people felt trouble followed them. Sonny nodded, expression determined, if clearly less than thrilled they wouldn't be staying.

“You usually travel alone, Irman?” he asked, stepping over to his horse by the somewhat refurbished lean to. He picked up the chestnut’s reins but didn’t mount, nodding for Rhyss to take the lead. Lance and Leon hung back to bring up the rear while all the rest stayed together in the middle. “Sometimes I think about it but…” he shrugged, looking over his growing collection of found family. He trusted them, and he knew they all trusted and relied on him too.