Empirical Gnollage Installment 50 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment050.png]
The next morning, Gruntle was obviously hungry. He leaned in, his bestial face just inches from Al's, and his deep, growling voice said: "We gon' git vittles raht quick."
Then the crowing of a rooster woke Al up and ended the nightmare. He was sure he'd heard a y'all at the end of the rooster's announcement of the sunrise as he returned to consciousness and took note of the feel and scent of the place. It was warm, protected, maybe even cozy. The air had strong scents of earth and hay and sweat, as well as mulch, sulfur, and wet dog... Al's eyes snapped open and he sat up into the chilly morning air, immediately awake. Like shoots of turnip greens emerging from warm soil Al thought, then shook his head to clear it. That's it. I've officially been in this place too long already.
The "pillow" he thought he had been leaning on had been Gruntle curled up directly against Al's side. Bote was on the other side of Al, and Wikwocket was in her bedroll atop Gruntle. Directly above, Haunch's eyes stared down at Al, the donkey's head leaning over the door of the stall. Haunch brayed, stirring the others to wakefulness.
"Why are we all jammed together here?" Al asked as he sleepily stood up and stumbled out of the pile.
"I am not certain," Bote answered, sitting up and looking puzzled. "I do not recall moving during the night."
Wikwocket gave a yelp of complaint as Gruntle stood up and stretched, precipitating her to the floor. She reluctantly stretched as well and slowly extricated herself from her bedroll.
"How did I get up there?" she wondered aloud. "If I'd known it was that comfortable I'd have tried it before now."
As the group packed up and prepared themselves to leave, there was a knock at the door.
"Y'all still here?" Sheriff DaisySue asked, as she pushed the door open. She seemed pleased to see them. "Thought y'all mighta done left early. Ah'll bring y'all vittles afore y'all go. DebbieSue done made biscuits 'n' BettySue gots gravy." Then she left, without waiting for an answer.
"That sounds better than the feet and guts we got last night," Al admitted as he put the bag of loose coins from the reward cart into the lead-lined box, and then hefted the sack of root vegetables onto their cart.
Sheriff DaisySue returned as Al finished most of his tasks and got out his wizardry references to prepare for the quest to the tomb. She had a coarse sack over her right shoulder, and carried a bucket of steaming grey sludge in her left hand. She nervously took a step back when Gruntle sniffed the air and then sprinted towards her, drooling, but the gnoll gave her no attention and simply crouched down to smell the bucket.
"Hungruh l'il feller ain'tcha," she told him, still unsure what to think about Gruntle. She looked to Al for guidance. For some reason, so did Gruntle.
"Gluttony is one of his favorite things," Al explained, "Whatever's in that bucket must smell good. Hey, Gruntle, let the rest of us try it first. You can have the rest of it afterwards though."
"Tha's BettySue's worl'famous sawsidjgravy, an' ah gots DebbieSue's biskits fer y'all. It'll put meat on yer bones 'n' hair on yer chests."
Al assumed that was just a figure of speech. He snorted at the mental image of Gruntle sprouting a ridiculous amount of fluff on his chest as he dug his spoon back out of his pack and fetched one of the bowls from the previous night's meal. The biscuits turned out to be more sophisticated than Al had expected. Instead of the lumps of baked dough he had been anticipating, they seemed to have been cut into clean round pucks, and the dough was layered such that the top and bottom could be easily pulled apart. The bucket of thick gravy didn't look like much but it had a substantial proportion of sausage chunks in it.
"Careful y'all don't drank too much o' the shan, now," DaisySue warned them, "It'll cure whut ail's y'all but if'n y'all drank too much y'all won't be able ta walk straight."
"Shan?" Al asked, "The stuff in the XXXX jug?"
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"'sraht! Y'all are blessed ta git some. That thar's a holy sacrament! Arthshan's a secret 'lixer divahnly 'nsparred. Cain't git it nowhar else."
"It's called earthshine?" Al interpreted.
"Yup. Made o' ruts. Secret recipe."
"Ah, yes. Of course it is. Well, thank you for it," Al said, diplomatically, and sat down on the ground to eat.
Al would have liked more salt and the biscuits were a bit dry, but all together it was a pleasant meal. Gruntle took the bucket once Bote and Wikwocket had served themselves as well. A few minutes later it was was dropped, empty and licked clean. DaisySue watched approvingly as they ate.
"Y'all ain't havin' second thoughts, now, are ya?" she asked the party jovially.
"No," Bote answered firmly, "I must see this through."
Al gave them a look, surprised at the emphatic response. Bote pointed to the bag with the flowers.
"This is a message. This falls well within my duties in the service of Indicina. I shall see this message delivered."
"I guess if we were having any doubts, that would settle it," Al said, rising to his feet, "it's probably time to get started. I've got a bit more preparation to make before we set out, could someone let Haunch out and get him hooked up?"
As Al picked up his wizardry notes again, he was surprised to see that it was Gruntle who went to open the door to Haunch's stall. The donkey actually followed the gnoll to the front of the cart. Gruntle stared in confusion at the array of straps until Wikwocket went over to help get Haunch properly harnessed. DaisySue expressed her thanks once more, and then left with the handcarts the villagers had brought in. Al sat back down to go over his notes.
The practice of wizardry is fundamentally about learning to direct one's intent into concepts that mortal minds aren't naturally capable of holding. The hardest part of learning to work magic for a wizard is to successfully get that first, simple, just slightly impossible concept to fit into one's mind in order to work one's first act of what Wikwocket would call real magic. The mnemonic tricks of "magic words", specialized gestures, magical symbols, and writing are all there to help the wizard recall the elements of these "impossible" concepts to mind as needed.
With practice, the number and complexity of these concepts that a wizard can keep in their minds at a time increases, as does the amount of intent they can put into them before mental exhaustion makes it too hard to concentrate on them, but there is still always a limit. Al needed to decide which of the magics that he could successfully work would be the ones he'd rehearse so he'd be able to use them.
We're going to a tomb, Al considered, so we'll need to worry about environmental hazards like the structure collapsing or flooding. We'll probably want to be prepared to deal with any dangerous swamp-creatures that might have moved in. I hope none of the dead are restless in there. Might need to be prepared for that, too...
He settled his meditations on both spells that Melissa had taught him, and a selection of more utilitarian magic that seemed like it would be useful for exploring an old tomb and protecting from things that might be inside. It took less time to make the mental preparations than it did to decide which ones to rehearse, and Al was ready to go within a quarter-hour. The party opened the barn door and headed out, making their way through the village towards the rising sun. Villagers sitting in rickety chairs in front of their huts mostly watched them suspiciously as they went, though a few waved at them encouragingly.
They could feel when they left the boundary of the village. The persistent discomfort mostly vanished as they passed a wooden roadsign just outside the village. It was a simple post set in the ground, with planks nailed to it. One had TURNIPSEED painted on it in black block letters and pointed back the way they came. Signs indicating TOMB,HELL'S BATHTUB, and SOUTHWALL pointed further down the muddy road. The road dipped downward as they continued on, into a thick ground-hugging fog just as they found another sign indicating TOMB directly to their right, along a badly-overgrown path that they'd probably not have noticed if the sign hadn't pointed it out. The path went into increasingly marshy territory, and the fog thickened further. The scents of stagnant mud, rotting vegetation, and sulfur grew strong, and the air felt warmer at first before the dampness made it feel cold again.
Voices reached them, amplified by the thick fog, along with a hint of wood smoke. None of them could understand what the voices were saying, but the language sounded familiar. Haunch snorted nervously and resisted going any further.
Al scowled as Gruntle sniffed the air and confirmed Al's assumption with a malicious grin.
"Goblins."