Empirical Gnollage: Installment 60 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment060.png]

Haunch was calmly waiting for them, though Al imagined he was giving them an impatient look over the empty bowl that had held the feed they had left. The steel grating was still in place in the other corridor, but no longer shimmered with a protective magical force. Al sat down on the cart with his wizardry notes to meditate while Bote gave Gruntle a more careful medical examination and cleaned up the partially-healed wounds. The fur around the slashes that the mandibles of the creature had made had dissolved away, and though it had healed-over, the mottled black-and-pink flesh underneath would probably retain scars. Wikwocket offered Haunch some water, and some more grain.

Al worked on settling his mind back into a state of clarity. Mentally handling the impossible concepts needed to work magic strains the mind and it becomes both harder to handle those kinds of thoughts and to keep a clear idea of what normal reality is like at the same time, especially once you start dealing with more than the simple magic tricks that novices start with. Al's practice had made him better at bigger magics but he'd hit his limit, especially having worked so much magic in such a short time during a very stressful situation. He hoped he wouldn't be called upon to do much more of it today. He felt pretty sure he could handle just a little more with some careful meditation, but it was going to take a solid night of restful unconsciousness for his mind to fully recover.

Once he'd gotten his mind in as much order as he felt he was going to, he worked through the slower, ritualized process for perceiving magical forces once again as a warm-up. After a while, the familiar hints of glowing auras became visible, and Al closed his notebook to look around.

The metal grating blocking the last passageway was distinctly ordinary, definitely no longer held by any magical forces. Wikwocket had tucked her new dagger in her belt, and it still had that unnaturally real appearance, making it stand out. Al lifted the amulet that Aemilia had given them. It was a miniature steel shield, in the same curved-rectangle shape that Aemilia had been depicted as holding on the door to her tomb. In his magically-sensitive state, Al could clearly see the glow of a simple spirit within it, radiating a calm, protective aura.

"Well," he announced to his companions, who by this time had finished whatever tasks they'd intended to do and seemed to be getting bored, "there definitely is some sort of protective enchantment on this amulet that should be helpful for whoever decides to make friends with it."

"More magic? I want to make friends with it!" Wikwocket almost shouted, leaping to her feet. Al held the amulet away from her and held out his other hand to fend her off.

"Actually," he suggested, "I was thinking maybe we should give this to Gruntle. He's the one who seems to get into the most danger protecting us, and I feel like he kind of earned it."

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Wikwocket looked disappointed, but seemed to agree. "Well, when you put it that way, I suppose..."

"Don't want it," Gruntle interrupted, to Al's surprise.

"Why not?"

"Gets in the way."

"But, look, it's very small, and it's magic that would protect you."

"Don't want it."

Al didn't think this would be a productive argument to continue. "What do you think, Bote? Give it to Wikwocket then?"

"I would concur with that. She is often rushing into avoidable danger alongside our gnollish friend, so some additional protection for her would probably not be unreasonable."

Al held the amulet out for Wikwocket's dramatically-grasping hands. "Hi! I'm Wikwocket D. Flibbendorfer! What's your name?" she asked it cheerfully. "Oh, I don't have a name yet, but Wikwocket is a great name and I am pleased to be your amulet!" Wikwocket spoke squeakily for it at the end.

Al could tell by the slight smirk that she was waiting for him to ask, so he did.

"What are you doing?"

"You said I had to make friends with it!"

He sighed. "Yes, sort of, the amulet has a spirit of its own, so you'll need to establish a sort of spiritual bond with it for it to be able to help you."

"It has a spirit? Like it's a person?"

"No, nothing that complex, it'll be a very simple spirit, more like a bug than a person."

Wikwocket looked horrified and slowly held the amulet away from her. "Hey, Gruntle, are you sure you don't want this?"

"Nah."

"It's not literally a bug, I just mean it's not something with a real mind or anything, just a bit of magic that can sense things, and decide what to do about it," Al tried to explain.

"So, what's its of?" Wikwocket asked.

"What?"

"You know, its of! In all the stories, things that are magic usually have an of. Like, wand of lightning or cheese-grater of demon-summoning or whatever."

"No, that's just...huh. You know, I've never thought about it before. I guess it's probably of...protection? Something like that, I can tell it's meant to protect whoever is wearing it. It probably has a sense of whether its wearer is endangered or unlucky and has some subtle magical ability to affect probability or some way to subconsciously communicate with the mind of..."

Wikwocket was giving him her disapproving look.

"It's like a good luck charm, but it's only lucky if it knows you and likes you."

"See, that wasn't so hard to explain after all, was it?" she teased, and put the amulet around her neck. Then, she wrapped the fine gold chain around her neck a few times until the amulet was hanging in front of her chest instead of below her navel. She stroked it gently, as if it was a small friendly pet. "Al thinks I'm crazy if I talk to you, so don't tell him," she whispered to it, though she whispered loudly enough to make sure Al could hear her.

Al couldn't help laughing. "Actually, for you it's probably not a bad idea. After all, if you're crazy, it's only fair that you let the spirit of the amulet know."

"Don't listen to him, I'm not the crazy one, he is," she told the amulet, petting it again, "Aren't you glad you're protecting a nice lady like me and not some crazy wizard?"

Al smiled, shook his head, and left her to her playfully-simulated madness. "How is he?" he asked Bote, pointing towards Gruntle with a thumb. The gnoll had wandered over to the cart stiffly and was rummaging in his pack.

"He was as good as dead," Bote replied bluntly, "I do not know the internal workings of the gnollish body, but I am certain the mandibles of the creature tore through some very important parts and opened a great flow of blood loss. The creature also seemed to be producing a digestive fluid which dissolved a portion of flesh and organs. If he had not fought so hard to live, and if we had not arrived so quickly with supernatural aid, he would not be here. The attention of the divine upon him was certain to have been helpful, but he still deserves much credit for hanging on long enough for a miracle. It would have been very easy to abandon a body so painful to inhabit at that time."

Al gave the gnoll a sympathetic look. Gruntle extracted a ball of dried mutton and tail-fat from his pack and crouched to eat it, when he noticed Al looking at him. Al was relieved when the staring contest that ensued was conceded quickly, and Gruntle looked away to reach back into his pack for another ball of mutton and fat, which he offered to Al.

"Got plenty. Shaman gets some if shaman wants."

Al accepted the offered snack and took a bite. There were some berries and herbs mixed in, and a bit of salt, and Al found it better than he'd expected.

"Thanks, Gruntle," he said, and got a grunt of acknowledgement in return.

"What do you think?" he asked Bote, "Once we go past the gate there, do you think we have much further to go?"

"I reiterate that I am not an expert in elvish cultural customs, but what I have observed of the construction thus far suggests a fondness for symmetry. I can only guess, but I would expect that the arrangement down that corridor to what we presume is the resting-place of Darius is probably similar to the arrangement that took us to Aemilia's."

"That's a relief at least, as long as there aren't any freakish bugs down that way, too."