Watch the Footage

Event 1 - Mooving up.
The cows are fed up with being in barns and not doing much other than grazing the same pastures every day. They have hopes and dreams to! To graze upon the grass of the higher floors, and to look down at the world and it's complicated shenanigans as they moo idly without a single worry in mind. But in order to do that, there is no other way... They must rebel and rise a banner in the name of freedom and laziness!

So... What happened is, the cows broke out from the barn. And promptly took the teleport gate into the second floor. They're now scattered in the woods, playing guerrilla tactics of grazing-and-running. Very short sights of cows everywhere, idly eating and munching only to move out of sight before anyone manages to reach them.

Here's the deal, any adventurer who can find and safely take back a cow or cows back to the first floor's barn, or just hand it over to someone in the second floor's outpost, receives a pot of delicious honey.

Yes. Honey.

Good luck and have fun!

GM Notes: You can work alone, or in a team, even make multiple trips with different people each time, no post order and multiple posts allowed, similar to the Aftermath. But each character can only be rewarded once: The honey pot is awarded for participation in the event. Also, don't worry about character activity. This takes place during the week between the Library conquest, and the current turn. Thus, everyone can take part regardless of having quests or not.

Ben was working in Tad's forge, as seemed to happen frequently these days. She knew her limits; while the master smith crafted weaponry and delicate wrought pieces, Ben helped out and stuck to the basics. She was slicing a rod to make nails when a shadow-- it seemed vaguely equine in shape, though she supposed later that it was really more bovine-- darkened the entranceway. Without looking up, she called out, "The stable for shoeing's around at the back."

The shape didn't move. Silently shrugging to herself, Ben got back to work. Nails were fairly repetitive work, but she didn't mind this kind of tedium, and it was something she knew she could do.

"Moo."

"Who the hell brings a cow in for shoeing?" Ben wondered aloud.

"I don't think this one's in want of shoes," laughed Tad, who had actually seen what was in the doorway.

"Moo."

With a frustrated sigh, Ben put the metal rods aside and looked up. There was a cow blocking the entrance to the forge, looking as though it wanted to come in.

"Moo." A second cow joined the first one, butting it forward a little from behind.

The blacksmith seemed to take his bovine visitors in stride, but Ben found their presence very distracting. "Go on," she flapped a hand vaguely at them. "Shoo!" The cows ignored her.

"Moo."

"Oh, for heaven's..." Ben walked over to the cows, attempting to steer them out of there. She met with absolutely no success. How do you even get cows to do things, anyway? she wondered. I have no clue how to deal with these things! I guess that's one thing that Aline Farmer has over me, she thought ruefully, instantly feeling bad for the bitter thought. With a sigh, she looked the cows up and down, trying to figure out how to get rid of them. She was pretty sure there was a barn in the first floor with their name on it; why weren't they there?

Speculatively, she pulled her belt off and fastened it around the first cow's unresisting neck. Okay... So far so good... She put out a hand absently, waiting, before she realized that this wasn't Ian she was dealing with; she would have to articulate what exactly it was that she wanted. "Master Tad, could I borrow your belt?" she asked. The man seemed to think it was an odd request, but she looked like she knew what she was doing-- as much as I knew what I was doing with the dragons, she reasoned to herself, and that turned out all right-- so he handed the strap over. She fastened it around the second cow.

Now Ben grasped the two makeshift collars and tried to use them to guide the two beasts out of the forge, but, well, cows were a lot heavier than she gave them credit for, and these two didn't seem to want to move. O... kay...

Ben gave the cows a look as though to say, Stay there. She almost said it aloud, but burst out laughing at the thought. Right. Because they're going to be going anywhere while I'm gone. And that would be a problem why exactly? She ran out the back door of the forge, into the shoeing stable. She snatched up a piece of rope that was lying near the front, and cast her eyes about for anything else that might be useful.

There was a horse waiting to be shoed. She almost totally passed it by, but a despondent "Neigh!" caught her attention; when she looked instinctively in the direction of the sound, she saw that its owner had left it there in full saddle and bridle, as though he expected that would be somehow necessary for the shoeing. And that, in turn, gave her an idea.

Ben approached the horse; a cursory examination of its tackle told her that it was the property of one Lord Averinton Findlay. "Well, Lord Findlay, I'm sure you won't mind if I make temporary use of your possessions," she muttered, as she deftly removed saddle and spurs from the horse. As though to make it up to the creature, she reached into the bucket at the back of the stable and produced an apple for it. As an afterthought, she took a second apple out, carrying it with the rope and saddle as she emerged back into the forge proper.

Methodically, Ben set the apple and rope aside as she saddled up the frontmost cow. The cow looked somewhat confused at Ben's doings, but offered no major objection to the saddle. That done, she took the rope she had salvaged and tied the two cows' "collars" together. All right...

Ben ducked back for the apple and tried to wave it enticingly in front of the cow's face. The cow eyed the apple hungrily, and started to move forward to get it. No, that's not right... Ben tried to motion with the apple out the door. As soon as the apple passed over the cow's head, the cow stopped looking for it, and seemed to forget that the apple had ever existed. Well, so much for that... Back to the drawing board now.

Shoving the apple into a pocket, Ben glanced about the forge until she saw what she was looking for. Ian's right, it's basically just a badly-weighted, very hot sword, she told herself, as she pulled the poker away from the fire. Grasping the poker, Ben approached the cows again, trying to wave it at them menacingly. Astonishingly, it worked; afraid of the poker, the cows manouevered themselves as far away from it as possible-- in this case, back out the forge door into the street. Okay, now what? I am not going to chase two cows with a poker all the way across the city.

Leaning on the poker for a leg up, Ben mounted the cow she had saddled. There was a little bit of strain-- Cows are fat, she complained silently-- but she settled fairly well. She tried to direct the cow by pulling on the reins-- no response. Well, yes, cows aren't particularly noted for their skills as mounts. If they were, what would we need horses for?

Remembering the apple in her pocket, Ben pulled it out, looking at it speculatively. She couldn't very well dangle it in front of the cows' noses while still sitting astride the cow, now, could she? Hang on-- actually, she could.

Feeling rather pleased with herself, Ben speared the apple on the poker she still held. Now she sat astride one cow, tied by its makeshift collar to the second one, while in one hand she held the gathered reins and in the other hand she held the apple-tipped poker, pointed so that the apple was in front of the cows, just out of their reach. Now we're in business!

Thus styled, Ben rode the cow through the town, headed for the passage back to the first floor. I have got to get back into riding, she thought. Since entering the Floating Castle, she hadn't managed to get herself a proper mount; while riding a ridiculous, stolid cow was hardly the same thing as proper riding, even this much reminded her of what proper riding was supposed to feel like. In between the jarring "Moo"s which brought her back to the ridiculous reality, she could picture herself back on horseback, riding fast enough to outstrip her quarry, riding through day and night with hardly a saddle sore to remind herself to stop.

"Moo."

"Yes, I hope you're enjoying yourself," she told the cow, trying not to laugh. At least she didn't much care about people staring at the crazy lady. That would have been a problem if she minded things like that.

Finally, finally, she reached the first-floor barn where she was pretty sure she had seen the cows housed. Dismounting, she removed all the accoutrements from the cows, and led them the last little way into the barn. "Moo," the cows said.

"Oh, all right." Deftly, Ben pulled the poker out of the apple, slicing the fruit neatly in two in the process, and gingerly fed a half to each cow. "Now," she said, shouldering her burden of saddle, belts, and rope, and holding the poker carefully in her hand, "I am done with cattle."

The cows gave a despondent "Moo." Ben glared at them. She looked around; the barn was very empty. She didn't know much about farming, but surely no one made a barn this big just to contain a handful of cows?

"Oh, all right. I'll... stick around to help find your friends... or something. But first I have to give this stuff back." She set out for Tad's forge, trying to convince herself that the background noises she was hearing were not more moos.

You’d think it would be easy to find cows, Giselle thought to herself, pushing her way through the forest undergrowth. They’re big, lumbering things. How could they even hide?

Yet somehow, hidden they were. Giselle hadn’t seen a single cow on her way out through the forest. It didn’t help that the forest on the second floor was much thicker than that on the first floor, which made for poor visibility. The mapping crystal revealed the occasional cave or outcropping, but mostly the area consisted of non-distinctive trees.

I doubt they could even get this far into the forest. The trees are so thick here even I’m having trouble moving between them.

As she tried to push herself out from between two particularly close together trees, that’s when Giselle heard a plaintive moo.

For a moment she could see it. She looked in the direction the sound had come from, but nothing made itself visible... until suddenly there it was. Right in front of her, a cow had clearly gotten itself stuck. She hadn’t noticed it in part because it wasn’t the black-and-white splotchy pattern she’d been expecting, but was a uniform brown.

Delighted to have been proven wrong about the cow’s ability to get this far, Giselle pushed forward to rescue the poor beast. She didn’t bother approaching stealthily, which proved to be a mistake, as the cow heard her approach and panicked, freeing itself from the branches that held it and running off out of sight.

Giselle stood where the cow had been and carefully scanned the area for any sign of its whereabouts... and she saw two of them. There was no way of knowing which had been the one she’d found in the first place, but it didn’t matter. A cow was a cow.

She approached more quietly this time, but it made no difference. Before she was near, both of the cows ran off in opposite directions. They were fast for such large beasts. So Giselle looked all around her once more, trying to locate the two cows, and this time she spotted a third one. And a fourth. And a fifth. It was as if finding that initial cow had opened her eyes, and now she could see them all around her. The forest was full of them. Mostly brown, like the ones she’d , but there were a few black ones that were very hard to see, and even a couple of the black-and-white splotchy ones.

Any time she tried to move toward one, however, it backed away. She couldn’t get close enough to tie a rope around any of their necks to lead them. If only I knew how to make a lasso.

She tried climbing a tree, to see if she could drop onto on of their backs. After waiting patiently for several minutes, a cow passed near enough for her to try jumping...

...And she missed by a good two feet. She landed okay, but she didn’t want to try doing that again.

Giselle had known people who raised cattle. They’d never struck her as particularly adept at anything, so she’d assumed their jobs were easy. She’d gotten the impression it consisted of carrying around feed bags all day. Apparently she’d been mistaken.

How do I make cows like me? She thought to herself as she watched them milling around. One was nibbling the leaves from a low-hanging branch. One rubbed its horns against a tree trunk, while another munched experimentally on the bark that was being scraped off. Most of them were just grazing, though there wasn’t much grass in the shade of the thick trees.

Hold on. That’s it! Giselle opened her satchel and searched through it, trying to find something suitable... “A-ha!”

Her exclamation scared off the one cow that had come somewhat close to her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, feeling silly for talking to a cow, but figuring it couldn’t hurt. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Here. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I hope you like scones.” She held out her hand, with the item she’d retrieved from her satchel. “The only other thing I have is cheese, and I was worried you might be offended if I tried to feed it to you.”

She kept her tone calm and, she hoped, reassuring, though exactly what it was that cows found reassuring was outside her realm of expertise.

Slowly, she gained on the beast, holding the scone out to it, and it seemed to accept her presence without much wariness. When she was close enough to give the scone to the cow, it accepted the pastry, mooing in a way that Giselle chose to believe expressed contentment.

While the beast chewed, Giselle put her hand lightly on its shoulder, trying to get it used to her touch, while with her other hand she removed the rope from her satchel and prepared it to encircle the its neck. She tied the knot gently and carefully, grateful that the cow was either distracted enough or unruffled enough not to resist, and soon she had a cow on a rope, and was ready to lead it back to its barn on the first floor.

She began walking away, pulling the cow behind her on the rope, but the creature wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard Giselle pulled, the cow just stood there, right where it was. The biggest reaction she could get out of the cow was a moo of protest when she pulled particularly sharply.

It would be easier if I could just shoot it, but they want their precious cows returned alive. Also, I guess I’d need help carrying the dead cow out of this forest.

While she couldn’t shoot it, she did think of a way her arrows could be of use. She walked around to the back of the cow, and, to encourage it to walk forward, poked an arrow into its rump.

The cow charged forward, pulling Giselle along behind by the rope she held. She should have learned her lesson from how quickly they’d run away when she startled them earlier.

At least the cow ran in roughly the right direction, and when it had slowed down, Giselle found that it was fairly responsive to turning in the direction she pulled the rope in. It was an awkward, uncomfortable journey, but the two of them returned to the first floor only slightly the worse for wear.

They were suitably grateful at the barn, though they seemed to be under the impression that Giselle should try to bring more of the creatures back. “No. You are not going to get me to go out there again. If you want to rescue cows, go rescue cows yourself.”

“Okay,” the barn attendant sighed, “wishful thinking. Here.” He tossed her a pot of honey. “Thank you for your assistance. Enjoy!”

As Giselle walked back to the inn she’d been staying in, she opened the lid and tilted the pot, watching the golden liquid ooze around inside. When she got to the inn, she didn’t go straight to her room, but found a table downstairs. Something had put her in the mood for meade.

Twigs snapped under hooves as Mirae carefully steered her horse through the forest. She’d found some cheap tack; well, she’d managed to wrangle out decent enough equipment from the salesman, who had left stains smelling of wine on the saddle. It seemed half the people she met were adventurers, and half the rest drunkards.

Too busy brushing a branch away from her face, she didn’t notice the fallen log until a low moo made her look around. Chances were Chet would have stepped over it, but Mirae didn’t like to depend on a horse she had barely known. Accursed forests. She couldn’t even see the sky, let alone two feet in front of her. She gave a silent thanks to the cow, then started Chet forward again.

. . . Cow?

Moo.

She slid onto the ground. Fewer trees over there, and a . . . rock? Could be a bear. Could even be a cow. Good place as any to look, anyway. Slipping a knife out of her cloak, in case it was a malevolent rock, Mirae stepped cautiously towards it. Rounding another trunk, she came face to face with her quarry.

A large brown eye gazed back at her. Not a rock.

“A cow?” It blinked back at her, not seeming to care that it was now correctly identified. “You’re a cow. What . . . are you doing here?” Again silence. “All right. . . .”

They stared at each other for a time. A bird called, and was answered. The cow broke off first, lowering its head to the floor and beginning to graze. “You should go back,” Mirae said. “There’s more grass on the first floor; you’ll be happier there.”

Well, that’s that goal made, she thought. Good for you. How are you going to do it? Full-blown lightning won’t help, all these dry leaves around; you’ll start a forest fire. She smiled. Full-blown, yes. . . .

Little crackles spread along her arm, jumping between her fingers. She held the electrified arm up in front of her, moving it gently in front of the cow’s face. It turned, edging away. “Remember this smell, do you?”

“Hush. Hush. I’m not going to hurt you.” Talking softly, she moved closer. “Just walk away from me, and we’ll be fine. Just walk away. . . .”

The cow pawed anxiously at the ground but didn’t bolt. “Hey, now, we’re going this way. Walk this way, come on.” She brought her hand close to its flank. The cow trotted a few paces away from the charged human, and Mirae grabbed Chet’s reins as she followed.

It could have been her imagination, but the forest seemed denser now that she had to navigate something so stubborn through it. Chet wasn’t the slimmest of creatures, but at least he responded well to her. Most of the time she spent was trying to keep the cow from hitting a tree and startling. Trees and rocks appeared suddenly, blocked by the surrounding woods until either Mirae or the cow was about to collide with them.

The cow brushed against one particularly spindly, near invisible tree. It stepped sideways, ears twitching with surprise at the sudden touch. Unfortunately, farther from the tree meant closer to the smell of lightning. Panicked, the cow kicked out.

The hoof caught her in the stomach. Her breath left her, and she hit the ground. Between gasps, she felt a dull pain grow around the injury. Healing magic spread through the area; the pain lessened a little. She took a few moments more to catch her breath, then leaned on a tree to pull herself up.

The cow, meanwhile, had fled. She couldn’t hear it lowing, but a rustling was coming from somewhere to her right. She fumbled behind her for her horse, then followed the sound, stepping carefully to avoid cracking twigs.

She found it not far from where it had run. Eating. Mirae only stared at it. Can’t even run far before stopping for a snack. It was grazing lazily, occasionally nibbling at an interesting leaf.

“All right,” she sighed. “Time to start again.”

~ ~ ~

The light was fading, but Mirae was fairly certain it was lighter up ahead. Indeed, the trees thinned out gradually, to the point where she could walk the cow in a more or less straight line. Soon she could see a stone wall ahead.

She gave a shout to the evening sentry, who vaulted the wall from her post and came, laughing, to help. “Another cow?” the woman asked. “They’re everywhere.” Mirae glanced past the sentry; a line of cattle was already being led to the teleport site.

“What happened?”

“Seems the lot of them came up from the first floor; we got a report from them that none were left in the barn. Course, I’m holding out for some of them to be from this floor. I don’t think any of us would say no to a bit of beef stew.”

“Right. . . .” She trailed off as the woman dropped the conversation, tugging the cow toward the gate. She may have been laughing, but it was clear she was busy with the bovine flood. Mirae revised her opinion. If half the people she met were adventurers, half of the rest were cows.