The Roads West of South Jaga City – Year 1344, Month 1, Night of the 8th. Spring

Olea Munroe

It says something about my state of mind that I failed to realize during the entire time I was limply lying against the tree, that John was wearing plaid, PLAID. Sure, the light was low, but I did not believe I had seen anyone exercising that level of stereotypical dress the entire time I had been in this world. I’m sure I will someday, but this was the first, a first in a new world for me at least.

It could have been the continued loss of blood from a hole in my body bleeding far more than anyone had a right to, it could have been the rain. Who could say? One thing I was certain of is that I had been saved in the middle of a forest from a group of wild beasts by a plaid-wearing lumberjack named John. He had a mid-length beard somewhat unevenly cut, a square jaw and thick brows hiding his finer facial features in the shadow of early night. And he was wearing a red and black checker-pattern shirt over thick trousers of some black material, probably leather.

‘Really?’

“Yes, really. Now let me watch in peace before I pass out.” I shot quietly to my erstwhile stowaway.

‘Not a stowaway.’

“CAWW!” I was slightly startled by the sound of my birdy buddy; I had no idea he hadn’t left or been killed. I could not see where he was perched from my view on the ground, but I was relatively certain it was just above me in the tree.

I ignored them both as I watched John walking calmly up to the oncoming horde. I had been waylaid by the large female and plowed through by the large bull, but I had no idea there were so many of the mad milk machines running around in the woods. This seemed to be far from a normal night’s worth of monsters.

John’s footfall sounded like heavy logs hitting the hard ground from afar, occasionally accented by a rumble from the sky above. I had not thought the sky was quite so dark and troubled before I had seen the monsters, and I had not even noticed it while fleeing afterward. There were fierce winds blowing in and I could feel the occasional fat drop on my head. Fantastic. I hated being wet, well I hated being wet while not being able to enjoy whatever activity had made it so, swimming, running through the rain, water-gun fights, that kind of thing.

My attention was refocused on the scene ahead as a lone cow barreled down the small slope toward my savior. He just rolled his shoulder and pulled forward with his left hand dragging his large axe over with a casual slash.

The cow was forced to the side with the impact of the blow, the axe having cut a not so clean slice through most of its chest, and front legs. John had discounted the bovine as soon as he swung the axe, confident in his weapon and his swing.

He set foot on the road and seemed to survey the surrounding mass of bodies moving in, there were cows coming from east and west along the road. They seemed to be gathering around the two from earlier, the ones with the odd coloring.

A sound not quite like thunder began to echo out across the area, and though it took me a few moments, I realized it was the sound of laughter, John was laughing at the cows. And the cows did not like it, they also did not seem to like it when he said something, barely a sentence or two before it was carried away by the wind.

I could not hear it myself. Yeah, I know. Trust me I wanted to know how to piss off a group of angry cows too, but I think the weather, my distance from the fight, and possibly a concussion was getting in the way of my ability to properly observe and describe the scene before me.

“Charge.” Was a word I could make out from the man before me as his word carried this time a weight of power. His blade swung wide upward as his feet carried him toward the waiting animals before he lowered it with a mighty swing.

His blade tore through the four or more cows near the front of the group around the larger cow. An impressive feat but that was only four of what I am going to lazily sum up near thirty. The sheer weight of numbers and meat he would need to slice was quite heavy.

“Mudslide.” Came the next word from John. The earth below the cows looked to soften as his word, and with the small passive affect of my Detect Magic seemingly still in action I could see motes of brown and green mana moving in a flowing pattern through the earth within thirty feet or so of the axe-wielding man. Impressive crowd control.

Mooing broke out as the cows tried to free themselves with fancy hoof-work only to press their opposite feet further into the mud while John’s axe rose and fell with the wind. I could see at least eight new bodies falling as he waded deeper into the mess, the earth below his own feet seeming to solidify at his touch. Maybe a passive to his earlier skill, like my own Wind Walk? I would need to remember that one too.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The leader of the cows, cow queen maybe, yep that was her name for now. She seemed to be issuing orders now. Two group of cows outside the range of the spell went in either direction to flank the lumberjack, and I must admit advanced tactics from the wildlife did not instill in me a desire for new adventures anytime soon.

John only looked in both directions unconcerned as he cut down once again, removing another obstacle from the board. Several cows were gaining traction in the deepening mud as they charged forward even as the two other groups spun to close.

“CAW!?”

“Earthen Spike.” The word whispered from the mountain of muscle and violence as the ground at his feet produced a shard of rock from beneath his feet to send him sailing upward as several cows collided with the jagged edges. Bones crunched and I could see a few small splashes of red from where I was. The dirt of the road was beginning to take on a look of dark clay, the blood pouring freely from so many carcasses.

As John reached the pinnacle of his forward arc he swung his axe down, around, and then up in some odd display of prowess. I personally thought he was using the flashy movements to right himself in the air, classic cover-up.

He came down upon the head of another cow, his weight forcing the large beast to fall as he brought his axe down in an orchestrated arc cutting through the torrent of rain to bisect the cow behind his steppingstone.

Two bulls ran from each side of the man as he lifted his axe or tried to lift his axe. The blade seemed to have lodged itself in the ground. John looked both ways before he simply jumped forward over the large blade usings its mass as an anchor to fuel his leap. The bulls halted digging deep furrows in the earth before they could smash into one another even as John used his forward momentum and considerable mass to pull his axe free at the end of his jump.

He landed in a circle of cows the seemed as bewildered as could be, not expecting the man to have survived so long and to also have penetrated their inner ranks.

John did not hesitate. “Giant Strength.” The words were followed by a tightening of the air around him as he seemed to swell with power. I was starting to see how this whole thing would end, I had found a hidden master.

The cows regained focus and began to spin in place on their front legs, I had seen this move already. Round-cow Kick incoming.

“Cleave. Sweep.” Apparently feeling no need to hide his use of skills he intoned two more words that were followed by his blade swinging in a wide arc as it took on a red hue, a line of blue gray could be seen in its wake. The blade took one cow after another, each in a different position as they tried to execute their combat maneuvers they were simply not as fast as John.

I assumed the Cleave was a skill for impact and the Sweep skill was something that could aid the attack across multiple bodies if it worked. Help-chan would probably fill me in later. The effect was devastating in practice. There were now several more bodies in the piles accumulating on the road.

The two bulls that had begun building momentum to charge after John’s earlier stunt almost seemed to falter in their steps as the carnage unfolded, no doubt they had intended to land a surprise attack as the man defended, parried, dodged, or blocked the attacks from the cow maidens. Nope, not this guy. Who needs defense when a good axe-swing will just murder everything trying to hit you.

With an almost contemptuous look upon his face John charged the running bulls dropping his axe low and bringing it up to take one of the bulls around the neck with his blade and use it as a fulcrum almost to swing around and up giving a sharp pull as his hit the apex to separate the head from the body. He made a leap from his new perch on the haunches of the falling beast and tore into the other bull from the side shattering ribs and opening the beast up through its massive side.

As soon as he landed John kicked off the ground taking a line directly to the queen ahead of him. This is where the villain would normally have some dastardly ability revealed to slow the hero but nothing like that happened. John merely passed the side of the queen with axe raised and extended to the side and the head of the queen fell slowly to the road.

“Moooooooooooooooooo!” came the cry from the other group of bovine baddies. The large bull, king cow I will call him, saw the loss of his partner, and seemed to darken to the color of a sanguine cocktail. The roiling energy I could discern with my fading visual passive was disturbing, it almost seemed to sicken the world around it with a foul taint.

John shouted something as the thunder boomed overhead, the storm had gotten worse. Spiffy.

This challenge had apparently been enough to enrage the bull further as he and his entire entourage of maybe another twenty cattle charged as one for the lone man. A thunderous wailing echoed out into the forest.

“Moooo!”

I would have been somewhat frightened at the thought of several tons of cow headed toward me at speed, but John seemed to find it humorous. He laughed in the face of this new threat as he hefted his axe skyward.

The mana seemed to surge around the man as he stared skyward, the clouds circling in a vortex of black and gray.

With a deliberate and focused swing, the axe came down, almost in slow motion as I heard John utter some new words.

“Call Lightning.”

And call the lightning he did, the axe hit the road as forks and lances of pure light smote the earth. The cow king was blown to bits as his body was struck with a bolt that looked as thick as a tree, the smaller cows meeting similar fates all along the road as the heavens delivered their payload.

As the last of the cows died, I saw John’s shoulders droop slightly, maybe having dismissed his Giant’s Strength spell as I saw the mana around him still. He looked about the area with a measuring gaze before uttering another few words to invoke his last skill.

“Create Campfire.” At these words every corpse within the vicinity began to smolder and smoke, flames began sprouting up all along the road as the fire took hold, not caring for the rain or the copious puddles of blood as it ravaged the field taking fires due.

I was in awe of this one-man army as he stood there surveying the damage around him, other than a few furrows and a couple of ruts that were quite a bit deeper than most wagons would cause the road was somewhat smoother than it had been, an effect of Mudslide maybe? It was impressive and I could not help but wonder what level of monster this lumberjack was.

And as I was starting to seriously consider donning my own set of plaids and leading the solitary life of mastering the woodsman’s arts, I heard a distinctly unpleasant sound.

CRACK.

I looked up as the large branch above me gave under the weight of the storm and fell toward me.

“Well poo.” Was all the wit I could muster as I felt the impact and my world faded to black.