A life of a Mob in a fantasy world

Chapter 3: Goated part 1


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Fuck, old man Jones was not kidding about the my muscles being sore. I'm used to manual labour at the orphanage but I guess yesterday was completely different to my average day, leisurely cleaning out the orphanage with the other kids and other menial task. I always had the notion that the first thing to wake you up in the morning is the pleasant sound of a Fire Rooster as it displays its sharp but distinct voice to greet the upcoming sun. However, the crowing of the Fire rooster is anything but pleasant, it certainly is sharp and grating to the ears. 

I sighed wearily, chasing the remnant of sleep from my eyes as I let out a big yawn and stretched while still laying down on the bed. I went down stairs having changed into my work clothes, somehow its clean which was amazing, farmer Jones must have one of this artifact machines that washes and dry clothes, I heard that they're pretty hefty in price, I'm surprise that such a run down looking farm could afford to have one of these. 

As I made my way into the kitchen to grab myself a drink, I spotted the machine, its shape was quite unassuming, it has a square body and its exterior was the colour of a dirty brown kind of metal, it has a few dials and a circular glass dome you peer into. but other than that, it looked quite ordinary for an impressive piece of machinery.

Farmer Jones strolled in the kitchen, his face in a scowl. I completely thought he was going to start shouting at me but instead he grunted and sat down shakily in one of the chairs in the kitchen.

"Make some coffee, will you lad." his rough raspy voice sounded out.

"Sure thing, sir J-"

"Call me Jones, none of that sir nonsense." 

"Sure, eh, Jones." I nodded awkwardly as I boiled a pot of water.

"There's some bread there, boy, and some butter, after that you can pack up the cart with the products we can sell at the market, you can take your pay from the money of the sell. And don't you short change me boy!" Farmer Jones stared at me steadily with a sharp glare.

"I will know if you do and trust me, you wouldn't like what I do to those that fucks me over. Do you understand?" 

I nodded eagerly, my heart beating extremely fast. For a crippled old man, he is intimidating and scary. And definitely smokes a lot, damn.

After washing the dishes yet again, my favourite chore in the world, rolls my eyes sarcastically. Not like I pawn this schmuck of a job to Connor, I sighed. I miss that dumb little bastard, my own little minion. I finish with a sigh as I reminisce about the good old days, which was literally just two days ago. It's crazy how times fly when your not having fun.

I opened the door and I was greeted with a head butt to my jewels by an over eager goat. The goat reached the height of my hips and was covered in green vines. Luckily it had no horns. Maybe a female goat.

I heard a wheezing laughter erupted just a few metres behind me and surprise, surprise if it isn't chuckles himself, laughing his ass off.

"Lassy must have been taken a liking to you, lad." he said in between laughter.

"A certain part of you anyway. Careful of that young Grassy Goat, she abit wild that one, is."

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Yeah, you tell me. I glared at the feisty little thing with contempt. It bleated at me in smug defiance and squared off its hoof as it pawed the ground aggressively. A warning of whats to come. With a bleat at its battle cry, it tried to hit me again but I simply stopped its pathetic charge with a hand.

"You never told me what to do with Grassy Goats." I said to Jones.

"Them things. You don't got nothing to do with them. They're basically like natures little gardeners. Their pee kills weeds and their feces fertilises the plants, makes them grow fast, healthy and strong. But they will pretty much stay around the farm, not going anywhere as this is now they're territory, so you don't got to worry about them." replied Jones, taking a long drag of his pipe, with his eyes close, while petting the huge white dog. 

I still have no idea what its name is, or if its even a he or she. Hard to see its gender with the current length of its fur.

I glanced at the young stubborn goat still trying to push against my hand. I sighed. I gently pushed it away, it snorted angrily but it began to walk away and started eating the greens thats growing abundantly around the farm.

I couldn't help but roll my eye at the audacity of this goat. I think I have to name this new nemesis of mine, she might have won this round but the day isn't finish yet and I've got a score to settle. Today shall be the day, they call me Kierran the Grass Goat Rider. The GG rider for short.

I started putting away the eggs, the soya milk in sealed tin buckets after I milked the cows, then the sack on sack of sheared cotton sheep wool. So far I have not seen any horses or anything that can be use to pull this thing around, but I'm sure farmer Jones has a plan. I tied everything up nice and tight so things won't move around or fall off the cart. 

"So, what now old man Jones." I shouted over. 

Crap, I realise my mistake. I called him a name I normally call him in my head.

"Uh- I mean Jones, sir-" I shouted a second time in an effort to salvage the situation.

"Hmm.. old man Jones." Farmer Jones mulled under his breath.

He then slapped his thigh and cackled.

"Don't you worry lad, you can call me that, I do have a sense of humour and I'm not like a lass who sensitive, as long as you don't call me fucker Jones or impotent Jones then we're all good. Trust me lad, I can still split a thick busty maiden in half. My back might be broken but my weapon can still fence, if you know what I mean." he winked then laughed rambunctiously.

Old man Jones, limped over along with his faithful behemoth of a dog. He nodded appreciatively at the way I secured everything unto the cart. He then patted the overgrown hound. The dog barked and walked towards the cart and then sniffed the harness.

"You tie that harness up on Fighter there, she'll take of the rest. She should be able to handle any attacks from vermins around this area, your average giant rat, or mud worms won't stand against Fighter here for she is a a proud Snow Hound." he chuckled proudly.

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