Farrell the Farmer Prelude
Farrell wretched violently at the sight before him. The stench of sulfur and methane permeated every inch of the barn. The head dwarf nodded his head in approval before turning to the farmer. Running a stubby hand through his bead laden crimson beard. “Ach. We will pay you for the cows. Snax! Finish up the stitches there is ale waiting to be drunk!”
Mouth covered in shock the farmer tried to make sense of what he was seeing. His cows looked to have been torn apart and sown back together. Tubes and piping protruding out of their bodies. Patches of skin were replaced with metal mesh and brass plating. The monstrosity moaned in agony as the sad eyes of one of the cow’s now dual heads gazed upon Farrell.
“What have you done? Why would you do this?” Farrell asked in horror turning away from the scene before his stomach emptied completely.
The lead dwarf chuckled, patting the farmer on the back. “We are protectin’ the land, lad. Word of some barrow rats up north, dem rats hate fire. So, we made just the thing to flush’em out.” The dwarf’s voice grinding on Farrell’s ears like a hoarse cough.
Snax pulled the mutilated cows along and out of the barn by leather tether. The creature staggered trying coordinate its legs, “It is ready for testing, Gorman.”
The dwarven leader grinned widely, “Let’s get to it, lads.”
“Target sir?” Snax asked, taking up a large hose and hooking it up to a port imbedded in the hind quarter of the cow.
Without even breaking stride, Gorman pointed at the chicken coop. “There, that is about twenty five paces I believe.”
Farrell felt his stomach drop. “Wait!” Putting himself in the path of Gorman, holding his hands out. “Please, could you just not do this kind dwarf?”
Gorman examined the farmer, his onyx eyes screwing tight in irritation. “We fixed your chimney. The lads forged you a good length of dwarven chain. We are also going to pay you for the cows and any other damages.” A meaty hand drifted to the handle of his rune etched Warhammer. Stubby finger tapping the head of the weapon, “I think we have been more than fair. Don’t you?”
Farrell’s expression began to melt from fear to a cold rage, turning from the dwarf. “I didn’t ask for anything.” Covering a balled fist over his stomach, “Please, just leave soon.”
“Nor did we ask for anything, human. Fire!”
The farmer jerked his head as sudden heat washed over him. The tube from the rear of the cow sprayed blue fire as Snax swept the hose back and forth. The flames greedily devouring the chicken coop wooden siding. The strangled squawks of his chickens burning alive mingled with the whooping laughter of the dwarves. Sounds that would grant nightmares to the farmer for weeks to come.
Unable to watch any more Farrell darted around the back side of his humble cottage. Tears of anger rolling down his face the farmer glared at the five graves hidden by back of the cottage. Shoulders shuddering in dry heaving sobs Farrell, “You all had it coming. You all had it coming.”
Mumbling the same phrase over and over the farmer was vaguely aware of the sun as it sank into the west to be replaced by the veil of night. Wiping the last tear away Farrell knew what he had to do. “You have it coming.”
The dwarves were celebrating their creation, barrel after barrel unloaded from the armored battle wagon. The trio broke into the casks, draining the amber contents, feasting upon the ruined carcasses of the burned chickens. Song after song of heroic deeds poured from the mouths of the rapidly drunken dwarves. Farrell slipped into the barn staring at what was once his prized cows. The creature shifted to regard the farmer. Inching a hand Farrell stroked the abomination’s forehead remorsefully. “I am so sorry they did this to you, Tark.”
*** *** ***
The night carried on, the dwarves finally settling into the barn to sleep off the obscene amount of ale they had imbibed. Their new creation placed outside to feed and refuel upon the grass. Farrell calmly walked towards the barn, taking the length of chain the dwarves had forged out of horseshoes and looped it through the handles of the barn door. Jerking the chain once to test it the farmer approached the miserable altered cow. Working flint and still together, the sparks catching to the oiled torch. Hatred flowing through him as Farrell pitched the torch through the open window of the barn loft.
The golden light shimmered as flames ate through the hay, to the dry wood. Shouts of anger, and coughing erupted from within the barn. The upper loft of the barn collapsed, the doors to the front of the door bucked, the chain holding it from opening. Farrell squinted as the smoke changed direction towards him. Braced with hose in hand the farmer waited.
With a thunderous crash the door burst off the hinges as Gorman barreled forward followed by his companions. Slapping at his beard the leader gasped for air. A look of confusion came over the trio as they took in the sight of Farrell with their new creation. The farmer flicked the switch near the end of the tube. Tark moaned pitifully as star blue fire poured forth from the weapon. Gorman threw up his hands protectively over his face as the fire splashed over them. Hair shriveled, skin cracked and burned. The smell of death chased the dwarves as they rolled upon the earth trying to put themselves out from the relentless fire.
Gorman fell upon his back, near Farrell. Charred hands coiled into useless stumps “Wh-why?” The leader managed to get out, every syllable laden with smoke.
Turning the hose towards the fallen dwarf, the farmer frowned deeply. “You had it coming.”
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