by Tom Hansen
Quest Available! A Bo By Any Other Name:
Check with Eldermother to upgrade your weapon.
And with that, she spun on her hoof and galloped away, her light brown mane bouncing with each stride.
Chapter 03
Scarhoof arrived at Eldermother’s house an hour later. He had finally found the lost pig in the fields and assisted with placing the last few posts to keep the animals penned in. The younger Tau’ri were tasked with watching the weaker points of the fence, until new posts could be made, and new post holes dug. Things that could wait until tomorrow.
“Eldermother.” He stopped before her hut to wipe his hooves off on the gnarlroot she kept outside, their scratchy barbs gouging the muck from his hooves. It gave him a deep sense of peace to finally remove all the gunk crammed in there. So much in the world you couldn’t control, but the grime between his hooves was one he could.
Her hut was much like the rest of them, thatched roof, wooden planks for the siding. But of all the huts in the village, hers was the only one he would have called a home.
“Oh Matuk, come in, come in.” Eldermother greeted him with a warm, toothy smile. She was as old as any Tau’raj he’d ever known, eighty-five years was the rumor though no one dared ask her. Everyone knew once your horns began to yellow and crack, it was impolite to bring up age.
His were not far from the same fate.
It was warm and inviting inside. A thick woven mat covered the entire floor, featuring brilliant golds and blues in angular patterns. It was firm with just the right amount of give for comfort.
The place was appointed with tables, shelves, stools, and a large hearth on the back wall made of hewn red sandstone. It was decidedly rustic but the old-cow’s homey flair made it feel welcome. Dotting the tabletops were wooden toys and knick-knacks from her travels. There was even a painting with her, a bull who must have been her husband at some point, and a small female Tau’ri with a brown mane.
Standing taller than most, his black horns nearly grazed the ceiling, and he suddenly felt out of place in such a personal space.
Like a bull in a china shop.
The thought flashed through his mind along with that odd ‘doesn’t belong’ feeling he’d had previously, like a false memory trying to surface. He ignored the odd feeling.
Eldermother put her hand on his. “Matuk, thank you for coming. I am grateful you were in the village today to help us with the blaze. How are things coming out there?”
“All the animals are wrangled, and we have some Tau’ri watching to make sure they stay that way.”
Quest Complete! First Alert:
You helped contain the fire, organized the bucket brigade and brought all the animals back to the pen. (Gained 100 XP!)
She smiled, patting his hand. “Please, sit, I’ll get us some tea. I hear you had an interesting time with our Nitene out in the fields?” She turned for the hearth and grabbed a kettle off one of the nearby shelves.
Scarhoof grabbed one of the stools from the corner. Eldermother swore under her breath, frustrated with the lack of fire in the hearth. “Blasted thing is never here when you want it to be.” She snapped her fingers and a small flame burst into being on the handful of logs in the hearth. She then twirled her finger and a cyclone of air whirled around inside the hearth, stoking the fire into a roaring cacophony in seconds.
He sat down but then jumped back up at a noise from the doorway.
“Eldermother?” The voice was small and timid.
“Sihu, what is it dear?” Eldermother turned around at the interruption. “Everything all right?”
The small dark brown Tau’ri held her hands open, a shiny blue scale filled both of her palms. “I found this behind the barn. I think a pig was trying to get to it.” She held the blue scale up with her fingertips.
There was a crash as the kettle dropped from Eldermother’s hands and hit the ground. Lukewarm water sprayed everywhere as a large crack split up the side.
She reached for the nearby table with both hands, like she was drowning in an ocean and reaching out for safety; a piece of driftwood’s salvation.
Her bright eyes were wide with concern as she stared at the blue scale.
Memories flooded Scarhoof’s mind. Nagos. A battle long-ago. Death and disfigurement on both sides. His scar itched from the painful memory.
“Where did you get that?” Eldermother gasped for breath, the tip of her tail twitched back and forth, drumming the brick hearth in a dull thump every half second.
“Behind the barn. Miss Nitene said I should show you this, that you would trade me for a candy?”
Eldermother’s face softened and her shocked expression turned to a smile as she took a hesitant step forward. “Well, Nitene is very smart. In fact, for being so swift I will give you two. Now, did you see who dropped this, or was it just the little piggies?” She glanced sidelong at Scarhoof, her eyes bearing her true feelings.
The Nagos were a group of water-dwellers that hunted the Tau’raj. They particularly liked to eat the Tau’ri, finding their flesh the most succulent. They called their catches “veal,” a word in their language used to instill fear. It was a banned word among the village, but all the children knew it and used it to punctuate particularly hateful speech.
His head swam as he realized what this meant. His job was to protect the Cove, and their most ardent enemy might be in their midst right now!
“I only saw the piggies. They were digging in the dirt and threw this out. I would have come to you right away.”
Eldermother put a reassuring hand on the Tau’ri’s forearm, taking the blue scale from the little girl. “Thank you for bringing this to me, little one.” She reached into her apron and brought two small candies. “As promised. If you find any more, you can get more candy, okay?”
The two exchanged their objects and the Tau’ri was sent on her way to play.
“Oh, this isn’t good. Not good at all.” Eldermother motioned for Scarhoof to sit again, something he promptly did. He glanced at the forgotten tea kettle, cracked and broken on the floor and wondered if was a portent of things to come.
Eldermother finished scribbling the note, signed it with a flourish and folded it twice before handing it to Scarhoof. “Take this back with you to the guard station and have Kardkaw deliver it to Chieftain Bloodhorn.”
A pang of guilt washed over him. He wanted to go, but that was not his lot in life. Despite being the youngest of the three guards, his gimp leg wouldn’t allow him to make it there in time. Kardkaw Thunderdraft would make better time.
Quest Available! Mysterious Blue Scale:
Eldermother has asked you to give Kardkaw Thunderdraft a message for Cheiftan Bloodhorn in Whistling Pass.
After accepting the quest, he stood, took the note, and placed it in his skirt pocket. “I will deliver it, Eldermother.”
She gave him a warm, motherly smile then her face scrunched up like she was trying to remember something.
Scarhoof waited, feeling she had more to say. Something in his stomach clenched, like he should have known this already.
“Before you go, and since you’re headed out that way, I could use some herbs for tonight’s bonfire. Would you be a dear and grab them for me?” She handed him another slip of paper he hadn’t known she was carrying. “Here’s the list.”
Quest Available! Bonfire Preparations:
Eldermother has asked you to collect the following items near the entrance to Sunset Cove. They must be returned in the next 2 hours, so they can be used for the bonfire tonight. Stinging Nettles, Motherwort, Passionflower Pods, Echinacea, Wild Bergamot.
He stared at the quest for a moment, bothered that he would be off adventuring at a time like this. “Shouldn’t I be at the guard station if we are sending Kardkaw to the Plains?”
Her eyes narrowed while she pursed her lips. She shook her head with a melancholy expression.
“With the Spirtmother blessing you received today, you simply cannot wait for
the next bonfire. Sonvey will be able to keep watch. We never needed three of you there anyway, as the cove is already very protected and hidden.”
Scarhoof accepted the quest and gave a nod to the old cow. A timer appeared in his vision, just under the quest text to the right side.
“Oh, Matuk,” Eldermother’s soft but piecing voice stopped his step as he exited her hut into the early afternoon air. “Nitene brought a present for you. She said you would know what it was.”
Curious, he pivoted on one hoof to see her holding a long, dark wood staff. Three riveted bands of finger-width bronze encircled the ends of the weapon. Corded rope wound about the center creating a stout grip for his large hands. White runes carved down the entire length stood out against the blackened grain.
She held it out to him and he hesitated before taking it. It was the nicest looking staff he’d ever seen. Accepting such a gift without the bearer preset felt wrong. He would have to thank Nitene for this gift.
Item Received! Charred Bo: Base Damage 1-3, Speed: 1, DPS: 2
Quest Complete! A Bo By Any Other Name:
Eldermother has given you Nitene’s Bo. Wield it well, for its original owner has been lost to time.
It was thick and dense, weighing more than he expected. The wood was a deep pitch color darker than his hide, with a tight grain and glossy finish. The bo felt right in his meaty hands, the perfect thickness and balance. An ominous hum echoed through his fingers as he tracked the carved runes with his fingers.
“You should also take this.” Eldermother held something else out to him, a small leather harness wrapped around his shoulders to secure the bo behind his back when not in use. She helped him into the harness and he found that he could easily pull out the weapon when needed.
“Now get on out of here. I need those herbs back soon!”
He hadn’t forgotten, the timer continued to tick down, an ever-present reminder that he was on the clock. He turned to the north, hoofing it past the farms.
Just outside of the village proper, which was penned in against the coastline, Scarhoof entered the rest of Sunset Cove. Scrubtrees and sagebrush littered the rocky terrain. The imposing red sandstone walls loomed larger on this side than they did by the sunny entrance to the sea-side cove. He stood for a moment on a small rise. The village behind him, and in front of him the vast desolation disappeared into the darkness.
He’d always liked standing between the two disparate stretches of land, like he had one hoof in two different worlds. The difference in the sand and trees was distinct, with the finer sand closer to the shore. Farther inland, the terrain was littered with course sand, pebbles, rocks, and boulders.
Chaos and order, wildlife and domestication. Being a guard, he spent most of his time out in the scrubs and endless shadow of the cove. He returned often to work the fields, never fully belonging, yet working for the good of all. It was his dichotomy. Injured at the prime of his life, just as he took entered bullhood, only to be crippled and relegated to guard duty.
His first step onto the rocky surface reminded him how careful he needed to be with his injured leg after all the fighting today.
His hooves wobbled as he tried to maintain purchase, but he soon found himself making more comfortable strides. A hint of a path wound its way up toward a small cutout in the rock that marked the guard station.
He ambled toward it, looking out over the terrain. The quest timer continued to nag at him, a gentle reminder that he had herbs and flowers to find.
While he didn’t want to wait too long to deliver the missive to the guard station, he also knew Kardkaw wouldn’t head out until the morning.
To his left, something stood out. A small, white flower grew in the shade of a large boulder. This deep into the cove, the wall’s inward slope kept much of the terrain from receiving sunlight, giving a distinct chill to the air. A shiver ran up his spine as he stepped off the path and towards the small flower. He bent down, grabbed the plant, and tugged.
Quest Update! Bonfire Preparations: Motherwort 1/10
The zero next to the Motherwort entry increased by one when the quest updated. He frowned, as he looked out over the vast emptiness but didn’t see another flower anywhere. This was going to take a while.
Quest Update! Bonfire Preparations: Motherwort 10/10
Finally, he thought.
The hunt had been arduous, but after thirty minutes, Scarhoof had managed to find all the Motherwort, Stinging Nettles, Echinacea, and all but one of the Wild Bergamot. He hadn’t seen a single Passionflower anywhere and wasn’t sure he would recognize it if he found it. At least he’d known what to look for with the others, but he’d never heard of this flower before today. He should have asked Eldermother for a description.
This far away from the coast, the gentle lap of the ocean had long-since faded, replaced by a droning hum which echoed off the darker recesses of the cove’s sandstone walls.
The sound was intoxicating and song-like. It was the noise of his life, the sound he had fallen asleep to for the last twenty years. The swarm of insects coordinated their noises into something grander than mating calls. He soon found himself humming along as he continued to scout along the grass, looking for more of the items Eldermother wanted.
He crested a small rise, and stopped, as he noticed movement in the distance. Two small Kobolds, each a meter in height, danced around a large grey bush. They wore small loincloths and shook things in their hands. They had green skin and flat noses. Their pointy ears flopped around above their heads as they stomped around in a well-worn groove in the earth.
Covered with thorns and a fuzzy web of some kind, the bush looked more like a cocoon than a plant. Closer inspection told him this was an important plant. Inside the web-like covering were large blue pods that pulsed with a golden glow. This was the plant he was looking for! It had to be passionflower!
He wondered why the Kobolds—scurrying little scavengers that steal trinkets from the village—were dancing around the bush. They were a feral species, with only basic verbal skills.
Living in a cave on the back wall of the cove, they were rarely seen, and Scarhoof had only had to chase them from the cove entrance a handful of times in the two decades he had been stationed here.
He surveyed the rest of the area, finding no other plants remotely like this one in front of him. He knew what he had to do. He needed those pods!
This should be easy. They wore no weapons, only a loincloth and the strange handheld noisemaker. He was at least twice their height, if-not three times.
Puffing up his chest, and squaring his shoulders, he trotted directly at them, horns first.
They noticed him when he was halfway down the rise. He built up speed for his attack. He wasn’t going to gore them, just frighten them. As he arrived at the bottom of the slope, he realized they weren’t running away.
Instead, they squared off against him. Worse, they seemed to be defending the bush he needed!
He slowed to a trot, not wanting to run right into them, eventually stopping a half-dozen paces away.
Now that he was closer, he could see that their skin was a lot grayer than he had originally thought, with striations of dark green.
There was something wrong with their eyes. They had the same milky white look of the massive feral boar he had killed earlier. The three stood there, unmoving and cautiously eying each other. He looked for a crystalline growth on their heads but saw none. Their eyes didn’t show the shifting white that the boar’s had.
“Greetings,” Scarhoof said, placing one hand above his heart and bowing in deference to them. He had no desire to hurt them. The unloving glare he received in return chilled his heart.
Both Kobolds held the musical instruments in front of them like weapons. Now that he had a closer look at the plant, he realized they wielded the very pods he was here to collect. The pods were larger than he had expected and covered in barbed thorns all around the bulbous end. They shook the pods, still holding them at the ready,
making a rattling noise, like there were dried beans or something in there.
Regardless of the size of the creatures, or their makeshift weapons, it didn’t look like he was going to convince them with words.
He took a step back, raising his hands, palms open to signify he meant no harm. He would make his retreat and figure out another way to get the passionflowers for Eldermother.
But the Kobolds had a different opinion. They took his retreat as an opening for a fight. As soon as he moved, they both screamed a high-pitched feral battle cry and charged him!
Luckily, they were slow, and he was able to side-step their initial attack. They immediately split up to flank him.
Two times in one day? Not again! Scarhoof gritted his teeth as he dug in his hooves to the rocky terrain.
He wouldn’t be the victim again, and Nitene wasn’t around to save him. He reached behind and grabbed the weapon strapped to his back, pulling it free in one clean motion and swinging it out at the Kobold in front of him. Despite the decades since he had been in the army, his training with weapons came back to him with surprising ease.
The endless hours of drilling against target dummies was starting to pay off. Despite only ever seeing the enemy once, his years of hard labor and field work had kept him in shape.
He smacked the Kobold’s head and took off half of its health with one critical hit. He continued to backup, using his longer stride to his advantage, and kept them both in his sightline. He found the groove they had been carving around the passionflower plant and continued to back up in it. Both Kobolds had to jog to keep up with him.