Disclaimer: I don't own any of the names, characters, setting contained within. Bioware/Black Isle/Interplay does.


The Plan

The most fearsome of warriors, and certainly the bluest, Toop stood taller and prouder than any other in his village. Even Ursa was forced to acknowledge his might... after the cave bear backhanded him and threatened to tear out his throat.

Today Toop had made a decision. It was a decision that would irrevocably change his life. He decided on a mission: a mission to strike back. He would kill a cow. With the cow's murder, he would send a message. A message that his people, the Xvart, would no longer tolerate being oppressed, or scorned by the taller, uglier races. Even the kobolds laughed at them. Well, that would all change. For generations, his people captured cows, and made off with them, only to find they could not get the cow to move. The obstinate bovines simply stop and refuse to go further. Then the raiders would be chased off, and tales of their failure would grow. The shame his people suffered was unbearable. He would free them from that.

The voice in his dreams told him so. He would embrace his potential, and with it, his destiny. Toop the Cow-Slayer!

And so, his decision made, Toop's journey began. First he needed allies. No, he needed a sword. Unfortunately, all the iron they had was diseased. That didn't make any sense, but it started when they brought back a captured sword from a dead pinkskin. It had poisoned all the other swords like a fever. Now all their iron rotted, even the ancestral sword the shaman wore. Nothing could stop the rot. Well, he had a way around that too. In the meantime, he would use a spear, hardened in the campfire.

Allies were a hindrance, but the only way the village would believe him is if there were enough witnesses to see it. Next he needed Ursa's blessing. He would promise her a share of the meat. Finally, he needed the shaman's potions. With it, he would have the strength of a hobgoblin, the speed of an elf, and the power to vanquish any halfling that came his way. And he knew just which cow to target. Chloe.

Chloe was a cow that had defied his village for years. She was a stubborn old thing, and her mooing drove most blueskin raiders away. She even hoofed clods of dirt at them!

Toop however, had a plan. When she began her legendary charge, (almost as infamous as her other attack; at least one xvart had drowned after sighting an opportunity to strike her exposed flank…), he would dive out the way. She would keep going and he would chase after her, and then she would stop, moo horribly, and munch grass for a while. But he would use a stone dagger. He would jab her and make her chase him, and when she was finally away from those filthy pinkskins and their horrid fur hind-heads, he would strike. Those stupid kobolds used their cowardly bows, hiding and only coming out when they thought it was safe. Well, Toop wasn't so stupid. He had befriended Merlinious, a kobold who wasn't taken seriously in her tribe either, and together, they would lure Chloe to her death.

The trouble was, Chloe might not follow him. She might kick him instead. A kick from Chloe meant death. Worse was her kisses. Her breath made better warriors than he faint. Then she lay down on them! He had heard many tales of brave xvarts smothered, a free limb flailing wildly until finally it twitched no more… all the while, the callous cow chewed grass. She had to die. It was a matter of honour.