Highcliff

There was something that felt right about travelling these plains, actively wandering on foot with a travel companion. Albeit, the entire journey could have been a ten minute ride by car. But, feeling the wind in my hair, the sun in my face, and the freshness of the air, it was touching some primal part of me. There was a primordial element of what a human’s life was supposed to be that we lost in numbing car commutes. Somehow, I felt the fantastical minotaurs were still able to capture the essence of it, that freedom to travel the lands.

Citing my bigger size, my waist-high travelling companion hoisted her pack off to my own back and had taken to gleefully skipping about, light as a bird. For what it was worth, what was a hilariously oversized pack to her felt like feathers to me. Conceptually, being able to comfortably lift a stack of wood and several metal tools was unsettling and only should have only heightened the dysphoria I felt towards this body. In practice, I don’t know. It was pretty cool.

I was able to get my companion to stop prancing about with some light conversation. Truthfully, I felt a growing need to understand my surroundings, even if I had to try and pry the answers out of the talking mythological creature that had taken up the position of my guide and the omnipresent reminder of my insane predicament. It was a compromise, but one I was willing to make right now.

“So what’s this Highcliff like?” I asked, continuing on our small talk.

“Never been, huh? You’ve been missing out, big guy. It’s the best minotaur village on the plains!” my guide gushed. Then, as if remembering something unpleasant, her smile flickered and she added with a scowl, “at least, it’s the best since the badlands happened, anyways.”

I was missing details, it seemed. I wasn’t quite sure that it mattered but, rather than expose myself by trying to ask for context on what seemed to be a sensitive and potentially well known topic, I just nodded along, letting her continue.

“‘Sallways the first place I stop. Trees don’t grow out in this part o’ the plains, so wood is always in high demand. And nobody runs the old furnaces anymore, so everyone needs metal tools. There’s always business for ol’ Lulu and her wares.” Lulu said with a cheerfulness that seemed to conflict with the tired, almost strained cadence of her voice. Arching her back, she flexed her shoulders as if to jingle her pack. A moment later she seemed to remember that it was on my back.

Ol’ Lulu, I found myself mouthing, unconsciously.

She seemed to stare out into the hills, while not focusing on them at all. “‘Sides, folks out here need this stuff. It’s hard enough living in the plains these days. ‘Taurs have to stick together, yaknow. I’m not a fighter”–Lulu looked up to me, angling one of her little arms skywards and giving it a teeny flex–“but I can still do this.”

There was silence for a minute as we walked. I wasn’t sure if, or even how, I should try to comfort Lulu. She seemed to be in touch with the heartbeat of this region and, with as little as I knew, I was afraid off making things worse by saying something stupid. I made it maybe five paces before the stupid part of my brain spoke, for me.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Lulu, how old are you anyways?” I blurted, out loud.

“Didn’t yer ma ever tell you its rude to ask ha’ of a Lady?” Lulu giggled into a hand. Waving it, she dismissively assured, “nah, yer fine. I’m twenny four.”

My eyes widened and I looked at the miniature minotaur for some hint of deception. Surely it was a joke. A feeling of awe built in me as I realised her attention wasn’t even on me. She seemed cheerily focused on the road ahead. Was my body incredibly old? Was she just small? The final few minutes of our journey I spent in contemplative silence.

I sucked in a deep breath when I first saw it. Though she was several feet too low too low to look from the height I was at, Lulu seemed to have enough geo-spatial awareness to interpret the action.

“Ooh, are we there? Are we?” Trying to see what I saw, Lulu scampered six paces up the hill until she’d crested it and was high enough to look over the edge and into the village before us.

“Parting Blade, I’d like to make this yer official welcome to Highcliff!” she beamed, beaconing to the disparate collection of buildings with spread hands.

I had to give it to her, it was nice. I didn’t know if I could call them cliffs but gentle ridges over the fields of green gave the village some nice shielding from the winds. Like most villages, it was built on a source of water. For a society which I kind of doubted had central plumbing, it was impressive how crystal-clear the river passing the village ran. The minotaurs apparently had taken to some kind of rounded building style. With a hodgepodge of thatch, stone, and wood, dozens of buildings dotted the landscape. And far, far beyond the buildings, I could still see the domineering visage of the lone mountain of the plains.

Between us and the village, a haphazard bridge gave us a crossing point over the running water. And, beyond that, only a few handmade fences over grass boxed in the houses. It didn’t look like much central planning was involved in the layout of the settlement, but it did have a nice appearance.

Credit: Alexis Mohammed

“-And it may be in the rainshadow of Crete’s Horn, but Highcliff was built on the Longhorn River, so everytaur out here has fresh water to drink and plenty of clover and grass to snack on.” Lulu continued on, ranting about the area as I nodded my head, trying to absorb everything she was saying.

On our approach, I noticed someone lounging by the fence on the other side of the river. A light pink furred minotauress with bone white hair was leaning against a fence post and playing with her hair, twirling it into braids. She was much bigger than Lulu, maybe a head shorter than me. That killed my theory that the size thing was sexual dimorphism in minotaurs.

Credit: Rizapiska

Noticing our arrival, the pink minotauress smiled and waved a hand, her hair apparently forgotten.

“It’s been a while since anyone came to town. Welcome.” She smiled warmly, closing her eyes briefly and arcing her back against the fence.

“Hey, how’s it goin’. I’ve seen you before. Sharlin Softhorn, right?” Lulu gave the larger minotauress a quick flicking wave of her hand, an ear flopping as she talked.

“Charolais, dear,” the minotauress corrected, running a hand idly through her hair.

“Charolais, m’bad,” Lulu corrected. “I’ve just come in with my haul, ‘s there anythin’ you need?”

Charolais pulled her right hand away from her hair and brought it to her mouth with a hum. Looking from Lulu’s pack to me, she decided, “no, unless you’re selling this young man’s name.”

“Parting Blade,”–I offered with a nod, remembering to go with the name Lulu suggested–“it’s a pleasure to meet you.

“I’d love to make it one, sweetie. Been a while since the town saw any big, strong-” Lulu cut her off with a sudden clap of her hands.

“Yep, good catchin’ up with you too. Goods to sell ‘n all,” Lulu grunted, shoving me from behind. It was a futile gesture but, trying to accommodate her, I walked in the direction she was pushing me with an awkward smile. Not sure how to handle any of that myself, to be honest. As we left, Charolais gave a dainty wave before tittering into a hand and returning to her hair.

Our walk continued on as we entered the village proper. Here and there, doors opened and minotaurs stepped out to look at the newcomers or peruse our goods. The attention didn’t last for long before a new interruption struck.

“Lulu!” A matronly voice called out from behind us, the clip-clops of hooves drawing closer quickly. Recognition dawning in them, Lulu’s eyes went wide and she tensed up. She barely had time to turn before I saw the little minotaur get swooped up in a great hug. Spinning, I found Lulu being held close to the chest of a minotaur woman, suspended like a stuffed animal. The woman was cute in a rustic sort of way. She had caramel fur with yellow spots and a mop of flowing brown hair on top of her head. She was wearing a blue overall with an adorable cow logo up the front over her chest. Most endearing of all, she seemed overjoyed to see the little Lulu again.

Credit: Slightlysimian

“Look at you, girl! Not so small-time any more, huh? You’ve got your own caravan now and a nice big gentletaur to carry your bags around.” She flashed a smile at me.

“Jersey! Let me mph!” Lulu yelled, forcing her way out of the bigger woman’s cleavage, with a bevy of shoves and kicks. As the gasping Lulu managed to drop to the ground and escape, I gave a nod to the caramel minotaur.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jersey was it?”

“Right you are”–Jersey beamed, flashing a white smile and crossing her arms–“Fluffy Jersey, but you can just call me Jersey. It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mr….”

“Parting Blade. I’m new around here.”

“Why, I reckon you are,” Jersey giggled openly. “I reckon I’d have noticed a big guy like you in town before.” She smiled, looking me up and down once. Blinking, she jerked, seeming to remember something. “Right, I love smalltalk as much as the next taur but, before I forget, Lulu could you be a dear and give me three logs. The young ‘uns at the nursery could use some more spoons to replace the ones we’ve broken this year, so I’m hoping to carve them.”

Eager to see business done, Lulu collected herself from the ground and after some non-verbal prodding, got me to lower her bag to the ground, which she eagerly rummaged through. With a flash of gold metal, the wood was exchanged for, Jersey taking the three handily with a grateful nod. Leaning on a foot to support the side of her body carrying the wood, she turned her head to me.

“It was lovely meeting you, Parting. If you stay long in Highcliff, maybe we’ll see each other around.” Flashing another one of those pearly smiles, Jersey hefted the three logs between her right arm and overalls and turned off to head deeper in the village. I could swear I saw a blush on her face as she turned away.

We continued like that for a few minutes, wandering around the town as eager minotaurs came to pursue Lulu’s dwindling stock and trade for unminted gold or local goods. Strikingly, everyone seemed to know the little minotaur that had made herself my wandering companion. More apparent still, besides some young boys, I don’t think I saw anyone but women in the whole village. Everyone was very nice, but it was strange.

Eventually, we came upon a central pavilion around which the rest of the village seemed to be centred. Here, a small network of buildings cloistered together around a bed of stone pavement. And, from a lone chimney, the smoke of an open fire burned. With the warm weather, I was wondering why a fire was needed at all. Then I heard the rhythmic ‘tink-tink-tink’ of hammer on metal.

Lulu had us on a direct approach to the smokestack. As we approached what looked to be some sort of smithy, I couldn’t help but notice how dilapidated some of the buildings were here. Holes in the roofing, rotting supports, and frankly concerning leaning were rife. Unlike some of the outlier buildings in the village, it wasn’t immediately clear that these were still inhabited.

When we had come within a few metres of the smithy’s entrance, I heard a trickling slide of ceramic on ceramic coming from above me. I looked up just in time to see a brownish-red ceramic roofing tile slide off the edge of one of the dilapidated buildings to fall a full story directly on my shoulder. As the shingle bounced off me and shattered like glass against the stone pavement, I let out an inhuman roar. Deep and base, it reverberated through the street as I shielded my bruised arm with a hand.

There was silence for a brief moment, before sound could be heard from the smithy.

“Males! Are we under attack?” A woman’s piercing voice shouted as the hammering of iron abruptly halted.

With a sharp ring of metal sliding, a thunder of hooves clattered within the building and a huge woman, shot like a bullet from the smithy’s entrance, a metal gladius in hand. Bands of iron strapped around either of her horns she was, like everyone else in this village, a minotaur. With a head of jet-black hair and striking blue eyes, she was the image of bestial rage in her furor to defend the town. Calloused hands of a chocolate brown fur, like the rest of her body, clung tightly to the sword in her grip. Turning wildly, her horns were lowered and her sword was raised, both ready to strike.

Credit: Merrunz

Seeing me, a wave of tension left her body and, after a moment, she lowered her sword.

“A battle aged male? Here, now?” Though she no longer looked like she was about to swing with her sword, the woman adopted a haughty posture and looked me up and down with a scowl. Noticing Lulu, she gave the minotauress a nod, asking, “Dwarf Lulu, you’re in town. Good, we’ve been in need of fresh ingots for days.” Walking up to me proudly, she continued talking. Looking me directly in the eyes, she continued, “and where did this one come from.”

“I found ‘im over at the Tomb of Kings,” Lulu chirped cheerfully. In the corner of my eye, I could see she was rustling through her gear bag, pulling out a few loose bars of iron I had never noticed were in there to begin with.

“Grazing in the hills, figures,” she snorted, her eyes dimming. “If every taur hid away in the grass, the whole plains would be like that old tomb, a ruin.” I didn’t quite know how to take that. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to insult me, but whatever situation the minotaurs were in was a wholly extraneous situation to my own circumstances. I just wanted to get home.

“The name’s Parting Blade,” I offered, extending a hand to shake. The smith looked at my hand for just a moment, then back up to me. I gave it another second, then she snorted. Put off, I retracted the hand.

“Listen, we accept many types here,”–the smith started, glaring at me all the while– “but I have no time for a taur with the heart of a weakling.”

“Look, I don’t know what I did to get on the wrong leg with you, but I-”

“What you did?” the large minotauress huffed, interrupting me. “You’ve done nothing. It’s what you didn’t do. Any true minotaur would be out there, fighting right now.”

“Look, Hoofstrong, just lay off the man. Not everytaur can just go out there and-” Lulu was appreciated, but I was too worked up now to put up with this. Taking a step towards the smith, an act which seemed to surprise the hulking minotauress, I cut off Lulu mid-sentence.

“Fighting what?” I forced, finally too exasperated at the meandering references to enemies that the minotaurs around me kept making. With regards to my combative conversation partner, this did not appear to be the correct decision.

“Fighting what!? Do you have cowbells in your hoofing ears? What do you think they’re out there fighting?” She was snorting aggressively now, pushed right up into my face, as if daring me to try her. Taking half a step back, she pointed a chocolate furred hand directly upwards to the midday sky.

“They’re fighting the Solar Empire of course.”