Installment 23 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment023.png]

The road emerged from the forest abruptly, dumping the adventurers directly into a cluster of small rustic homes and chicken coops. The houses were all quiet and entirely unlit. It wasn't until they'd gotten halfway to the other side of the village that they saw any signs of life. It was a large, squat building, presumably the village public-house judging by the roughly-painted sign depicting a chicken and the words "The Biggest Coop" visible in the light of the last of Al's sputtering torch. The windows were covered with flaps of hide, and the lamps outside were unlit, but flickering light was visible under the crack of the door. Al made a futile attempt to blow out the torch to preserve what little use of it remained, then gave in and commanded it to put itself out with a bit of magic.

"Sounds like a lot of the village is probably in there, I was beginning to worry there was nobody left," Al said, "we should be able to find out...what are you doing, Gruntle?"

Gruntle had dropped everything he was carrying and was rummaging through his pack.

"Haven't been here before. Should do the thing," came the guttural reply. He triumphantly pulled a length of rope from his pack and offered one end to Al. Al eyed it unhappily.

"Absolutely not. I think these poor villagers have had enough terror."

"Oh, come on Al!" Wikwocket objected, "He's here to help! We can't just make him wait outside!"

"Unsupervised," added Bote.

"This is not a time to be playing jokes on people," Al insisted.

"No, this will work!" said Wikwocket. "Look, I'll take him in. If I've got him on the end of a rope so it looks like he's under control, that should give us time to explain, right?"

She didn't give time for Al to object again. She leapt up and grabbed the end of the rope that Gruntle was holding out. He tucked the other end under his collar as Wikwocket stepped up to the door and knocked.

"Hello! Don't worry, we're here to save you!" she shouted, then led the way inside.

The inside of the public-house was crowded with worried-looking men and women around a collection of tables. Burning candles on each table and a small fire in the fireplace lit the room. Every face in the room turned to see Wikwocket come through the door.

"Get inside quick, little lady," said the woman behind the counter who seemed to be the proprietor, "and close the door before..."

Gruntle shuffled in on all fours behind Wikwocket at the end of the rope.

"...it's right behind you get inside! Douse the lights! Douse the lights!"

Panicked screaming spread through the room. Within a few seconds, every single candle in the place was snuffed out and someone threw a bucket of water over the fireplace. Some sounds of scuffling and shifting furniture followed as the occupants dove under tables or tried to put chairs between themselves and the door. Then it was dark and quiet, except for a few people hyperventilating or whimpering.

"Gentle...townsfolk...," came the deep growling voice from the dark. "Fear...not. We have come...to...protect the...innocent."

"Who is that?" an urgent voice hissed from somewhere else in the dark. "Is it gone?"

"Uh...I...am...but...no, wait... We are...humble...," Gruntle tried, uncertainly, then gave up with a frustrated growl.

"You're not doing it right. Don't know what to say now," he finally grumbled.

"They can't see you in the dark," Wikwocket told Gruntle, sympathetically, "I'm sure they'd have been properly surprised otherwise."

"Who are you two?" came the proprietor's voice from the direction of the counter.

"Four." Al's silhouette corrected, barely visible in the faint moonlight outside the door. Al took a few steps into the room, then disappeared from view as he stumbled over a stool in the dark with a curse.

"Why did you put out all the lights?" Al's voice complained from floor as Bote stepped over him and then reached down to help him up.

"The beast seems to fear the dark!" another villager's voice explained. "It's never come into the village at night before, but we knew it was only a matter of time before it decided there was enough moonlight. Putting out the lights scared it off."

Al got back to his feet and felt around until he found a table to lean on.

"Well, I don't know if I should call this bad news or good news, but I don't think the beast you're worried about has come to your village tonight."

"But I saw it!" insisted the proprietor's voice. "It was right behind the little lady there!"

"See?" Al said, "This is why I thought this was a bad idea. Wikwocket, before we bring the lights back up, would you like to explain to the people here exactly what's going on?"

"Gladly!" Wikwocket enthused. There was a sound of her jumping atop a nearby table.

"Good people of Henhaven!" she announced, "We are a band of noble adventurers! We saw your plea for help in Silveroak, and we've come to end the rampage of the creature that threatens you!"

Hopeful murmurs of excitement made their way around the room.

"We come to you with skills, wizardry, the favor of the gods, and not one but two strong fighters to face this beast!" Wikwocket continued,"And what's more....get ready, Al...!"

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Al sighed and felt around on the table until he found a candle.

Wikwocket finished with dramatic emphasis. "...the beast that hunts you won't dare come to your village tonight because...we have a beast of our own!"

Al commanded the candle to light. The crowd gasped as the dim light revealed Wikwocket standing on the table, dramatically gesturing to Gruntle crouched by the table next to her. She showed no concern at how close her hands were to his teeth.

"We do?" asked Gruntle.

Wikwocket stood up on her toes and whispered in Gruntle's ear.

"Oh," he said.

Al handed the candle to a villager at the next table and motioned that they should start relighting the others. Then, he raised his hands.

"I'm sure you've all got a lot to say but there's something important we need to know right now."

He turned to the woman behind the counter, watching him with a mix of hope and worry.

"You thought Gruntle" - Al pointed in case it wasn't obvious who he was referring to - "was the beast that is hunting your village. He's not, but...is the one hunting you the same kind? Does it really look like Gruntle?"

"I'm actually not sure," she answered apologetically. "Almost nobody has gotten a good look and survived to say. Horace?"

An old man with skin like sun-baked leather stood up on the other side of the room. His left arm was a bandaged stump.

"No," he said. "Ours is more like a wolf in shape and color. Bigger than yours, like the size of a horse. Longer teeth, fangs, sharper..." Horace's voice became unsteady and he stared vacantly at the stump of his left arm. "Its front paws...toes too long, claws, grabbing...grabbing...biting..."

The woman next to him put her hand on his shoulder to calm him. He shook his head.

"Horace is how we found out it doesn't like the dark," the proprietor explained.

"I'm fine," Horace said after a moment. "Just not easy to shake off something like that. I was feeding the chickens one morning about a week ago. It came running out of the woods. Didn't even seem to notice the chickens, it came right for me. It's fast. I didn't quite make it back to the house before it caught up to me. Ran like a wolf, but lunged at me with its front paws almost like a cat, like it was trying to grab me. Toes aren't long enough to grab hard but it got hold of my shirt with its claws and got my hand in its teeth."

Horace closed his eyes as if trying not to see the memory.

"When it...took my hand, the rest of me made a run for the root cellar. Guess I tasted pretty good, it chewed for a few seconds before coming after me again. Gave me just enough time to get the door open and get down to the far side of the cellar in the dark. No idea what I would have done if it'd come after me, I wasn't really thinking."

Horace opened his eyes again. "It came in past the open cellar door and a few steps down towards me, but it stopped right where the sunlight stopped and sort of...complained. Whining and growling. Paced a little. It's dark down in the cellar but I know it could see me anyway, it was looking me right in the eyes. I don't know how to describe the sounds it made when it gave up and left. Like a dog that's frustrated, angry, and afraid at the same time."

Horace rubbed the stump of his arm in silence.

"At least it didn't eat the chickens." he finally said.

"Now I'm hungry," Gruntle interjected. "Said there'd be better food here if I didn't eat the..."

"Yes! Yes of course!" Al hurriedly interrupted before Gruntle could finish his statement.

"What does it eat?" the proprietor asked with some trepidation. A few of the patrons quietly tried to crouch back down under their tables.

"He eats a lot of the same things we do. Of course, he likes meat. Also cheeses."

"Eggs?" the proprietor asked hopefully.

"I like eggs," Gruntle answered.

"Well, kitchen shut down for the night but if you can really get rid of the beast, we'll feed you all as much as you want. Let me go talk to the cook," she said, relieved.

She came out from the behind the counter and went through a door at the other end of the room. An indistinct discussion was heard between the proprietor and a sleepy masculine voice, which rapidly became louder and more annoyed. The proprietor's voice rose to match. Heavy footsteps approached the door, which was yanked open to reveal a plump, balding, red-faced man with a scruffy grey beard. He looked angrily out across the room and spotted Gruntle.

His face went blank and the door slowly closed again. A quieter discussion and the sound of cookware being set up followed.

As they waited, the villagers quietly began talking amongst themselves again. It was hard to make out individual voices but they sounded cautiously hopeful.

One particular table seemed to be looking towards the adventurers more than the others. A woman in farmer's coveralls stood up from there, shaking off the worried attempts by her neighbors to get her to sit back down. She hesitantly approached the adventurers' table. She nodded politely to Al, Bote, and Wikwocket, then turned to speak to Gruntle.

"What are you?" she asked nervously.

Gruntle pulled his gaze away from the kitchen door to look at her. He squinted in confusion, and gave the question intense thought.

"Junior warrior," he finally pronounced slowly.

"He's a gnoll," Al said.

The woman's eyes went wide.

"Gnolls are real?!" she asked incredulously, staring. "He's a gnoll!" she announced back to the table she came from.

"That's right!" Wikwocket jumped in, sensing a dramatic opportunity. "The terrifying manifestation of demonic fury! Merciless destroyer of foes!"

Warming up to her audience, she gave an exciting account of their encounter with the bandits, and how Gruntle had personally slain three of them. She left out their discussion of whether or not to eat them afterwards.

The listening villagers were so enthralled by the story that everyone continued to watch silently when she finished, until the first of them finally realized something.

"Wait...you got rid of the bandits on the road to Silveroak?"

Excited talking flashed around the room and quickly rose to cheers and applause. A number of the villagers overcame their reluctance and gathered around the adventurers to express their gratitude. It seemed the bandits had set up along the road months ago and had been taking money and small valuables from travelers, and a portion of whatever food they might be carrying, as a "toll". It made commerce at the lucrative market in Silveroak expensive for them, but not as expensive as hiring guards would have been. "We'd have been completely destitute if the tax collector hadn't seemed to have forgotten about us before that started."

Bote looked up at that. "That seems unusual. Has that happened before?"

"What, the tax collector? No, he used to show up with a bodyguard every couple of months demanding money from anyone known to have any, and food from anyone who didn't. About a year ago, he just stopped showing up."

The kitchen door opened and the proprietor came back into the room with a tray holding a large bowl of scrambled eggs, four plates, and some spoons. The happy villagers nearest Gruntle backed away as he started to drool.

"Thought you might all be hungry," said the proprietor, passing out plates and spoons to each of them. She looked around at the crowd that had gathered around the newcomers. "Make friends easy, do you?"

"They got rid of the bandits!" one of the villagers explained, prompting another round of cheers and applause.

"Really?!" The proprietor's smile grew from polite-and-professional to genuine joy. "You want any more eggs, you just tell me. I'm Rose, by the way."

She set the bowl down on the table next to Gruntle's plate.

Ignoring the plate, his spoon remaining gripped in one stubby-clawed fist on the table, Gruntle shoved his face into the bowl of eggs and began devouring.

Rose stared nonplussed. Then she chuckled. "I'll get some more going."