Empirical Gnollage: Installment 68 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment068.png]
The gate, fence, guard-shack, and the equipment of the guard slumped lazily against the side of the shack were the first well-maintained things Al had seen in days. The gate and fence were black-painted iron, and above the gate was an elaborate sign made from intricately arranged wire, with gold-plated letters reading Hell's Bathtub attached. The shack was neatly-made whitewashed wood. The guard's breastplate and half-helmet were well-polished steel.
The guard himself, on the other hand, leaned sloppily against the shack, eyes closed and head hanging to the side. For a moment Al feared they'd found another bloodless corpse, but then the guard shifted a little to try to get more comfortable. The guard opened his eyes as the sound of donkey hooves and the rattling of the cart on the remains of the stones of the road got his attention.
"Hello, there, you have no idea how glad we are to see you!" Al called out as cheerfully as he could as he waved. To Al's surprise, the guard's eyes popped wide open and in a panicked frenzy he reached into the guard shack to grab a spear, which he promptly dropped and scrambled to pick back up in his haste.
"Vampires! Werewolves! I need backup! Vampires and werewolves!" he shrieked as he desperately fumbled with a key ring to unlock the gate. Bewildered, Al signaled the rest of the group to slow down as the guard finally found the right key, got the gate unlocked, slipped through it, dropped his spear, picked it back up, shoved the gate shut again, and locked it with shaky hands. Then, he sprinted away from the gate towards the nearest building, shouting hoarsely for help to defend against the vampires and werewolves. Al looked back down the miserable excuse for a road that they'd been traveling on, but saw nobody behind them.
"Does he mean us?" he wondered aloud.
"It might be kind of funny if I chase him down and bite him," Wikwocket joked. Reflexively, Al's arm reached out to signal Gruntle to stop before the gnoll took the idea seriously.
Al looked up at the disappointed bestial thing that was his colleague.
"Ah. Right," Al realized, "he thinks you're a werewolf."
"What's a werewolf?" Gruntle asked.
"Well, they're dangerous, violent, bestial people...," Al began, and tapered off for a moment, still looking at the gnoll. "...and...they are influenced by a sort of violent spirit, sort of like demonic possession..."
He stared at the gnoll for a moment longer, trying to think of something that would describe the difference.
"...oh, yes, they started as humanish people but because of their curse they are forced to change shape into more bestial forms, and back to humanish again."
"Why?"
"I...don't really know. the influence just forces them to change."
Gruntle huffed. "Should just be what you are," he grumbled.
Al was about to ask Bote if he'd been trying to teach philosophy to Gruntle when the panicked guard reappeared from inside the building he'd disappeared into. He was followed by a muscular woman in another set of similar armor. She was putting on a white-crested helmet with a casualness that seemed to agitate the first guard, judging by what Al could hear of his pleading to go get more guards to deal with the army of vampires. The new guard with the fancy helmet did stop suddenly to stare in their direction for a moment when she noticed Gruntle, but then she glanced at Al, shook her head, and shoved the first guard forward.
"You idiot," the second guard said to the first, pointing at Al, "Look at the robes. He's a wizard."
Al was surprised to see that this calmed the first guard down a little.
"But...they did come from the Bloodless Swamp! Nobody comes from the Bloodless Swamp! The only thing that way is Turnipseed! Nobody goes to Turnipseed!"
The guards had reached the gate now, and under the urging of the second, the first shakily unlocked the gate again, still protesting.
"The whole reason I volunteer for this watch is because nobody ever comes this way! Nobody wants to go to Turnipseed!" he complained.
"Honestly, we didn't want to go back to Turnipseed either, that's how we ended up on this road," Al tried to explain. "We had no idea the trip was going to turn out to be so unpleasant. I almost regret not going back through Turnipseed the way we came instead. Now that we're finally here, we're very tired and as you can probably tell we very much need baths. Can we please come in?"
The first guard pointed accusingly, panic rising in his voice again. "See?! Vampires can't come in unless you invite them!" The second guard smacked the back of the first guard's helmet with her fist.
"They're standing right out in the sunlight, and there's no moon out right now so that's not a werewolf, either. That's a gnoll."
This didn't help calm the man at all, and the second guard pummeled the back of the first guard's helmet a few more times until he stopped yelling about how dangerous gnolls were.
"Look...you are a wizard, right?" the second guard asked Al.
"That is one thing that I am, yes," Al answered. The second guard gave an emphatic hand-gesture in Al's direction as if to indicate that this explained everything.
The first guard relented a little. "Okay but...why a gnoll?"
"Why a bear?" the second guard asked back, cryptically. She turned to address the party.
"Please excuse the unprofessional behavior of Larry here. It is true that we never see people arriving from that direction, or leaving that way either, at least not in the years I've been here. We respect the privacy and dignity of our guests, however, so I'm not going to ask about your trip nor comment about your chosen appearances or hygiene needs. Have you got reservations?"
"Nope, we're quite confident!" Wikwocket answered.
"If you've got no reservations," the white-plumed guard told them, either missing the joke or ignoring it, "then you'll have to go to the waiting room and hope we can fit you in. There's also a binding oath before we can allow you in, for the safety and comfort of our guests. If you haven't left your associate in a condition that allows speech," she continued, pointing at Gruntle, "the important part of the oath is written. Don't just stand there, Larry, go get the oathbook."
"What do you mean, left in a condition that allows speech?" Al asked as Larry the guard ran off to do as he'd been asked.
"It's like, bears can't talk, so if someone is magically transformed into a bear they won't be able to talk either. Gnolls can't talk, can they?"
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"Actually, they can, it's just that probably none of the others know how to speak a civilized language like Gruntle here does. Right, Gruntle?"
Gruntle's grunt for agreement didn't really help settle the matter.
Larry returned with a thick tome, bound in fine deerskin with golden letters that spelled out:
> Oathbook
> Hell's Bathtub
> Balnea Infernala
"Here's how this works," the white-plumed guard explained, "I'm going to read the rules of behavior that everyone is bound to follow while within the boundaries of Hell's Bathtub. If you do not understand any of them you must ask for explanation, because at the end you'll write your given names into the oathbook, and we'll call on the goddess of Hell's Bathtub to witness while you agree to be bound by the rules, so if you don't understand them, you're not going to enjoy your visit at all."
The white-plumed guard unrolled a creased and worn roll of parchment and began to read. The rules seemed to be thankfully reasonable. The monarchy's regular laws against theft, fraud, and violence were still in effect and would be obeyed, other guests were to be interacted with politely or avoided, and their privacy was to be respected. Violence in sincere and legitimate self-defense was permitted but it was emphasized that it shouldn't be necessary unless someone ever managed to sneak in without taking the oath themselves. Mutually-consenting violence would take place under strictly-defined rules in a formal dueling-hall if necessary. There were also some rules regarding the conduct of haggling with shopkeepers in Hell's Bathtub, appropriate behavior in the baths themselves, and the treatment of staff at the facility. The final rule was the consent of the oath-takers for the goddess Balnea Infernala to know their hearts - Gruntle had initially bared his teeth and covered his chest until Al, with Wikwocket's help, managed to explain the metaphor to him. Then, they each wrote their names in the book, and Al was surprised when Gruntle clumsily took up the pen and slowly wrote his given name in sloppy letters. "Aunt Melissa made me learn," Gruntle explained, to the shock of the guards who hadn't expected him to actually speak. The name of the goddess was invoked, and visible puffs of steam rose from the page of the book where their names were written.
The plumed guard sent Larry back to his post to watch for more vampires and werewolves and then she led the party on an abbreviated tour of Hell's Bathtub, which turned out to be more like a small oddly-wealthy village than a single hospitality business. The main road was lined with a substantial variety of small shops and a few religious sites, stretching straight across the commercial settlement all the way from the southern gate where Al and his group had arrived, up to the northern one. Their straight path was interrupted only where it split in the center of the settlement to divert around the massive two-story building containing the major hotspring that Hell's Bathtub was built for. There were additional dormitories for workers, guard stations, and a few neighborhoods where a variety of local people had their own small, cramped residences. Minor nobles, wealthy merchants, and richly-dressed clergy ambled contentedly everywhere. They mostly ignored the adventurers, though Al did see quite a few surprised glances that bounced between Gruntle and himself. In accordance with the oath, nobody made a fuss about their presence. One rotund man dressed in fine white silk highlighted with golden thread seemed pleasantly surprised to see Wikwocket.
"Well met!" he said to her, bowing and tipping his fashionable conical hat with the spray of silver wires splaying out from the top. His eyes lingered for a moment on the hilt of her spider-marked blade, sticking out from the absurdly rustic wooden sheathe across her back, then he gave Al and the rest of them a suspicious glare and went on his way.
"Who was that?" he asked Wikwocket after they'd left the man behind.
"I don't know, looks like some kind of merchant to me. If he thinks I'm going to sell BiteySue to him, he's going to be disappointed."
The group was eventually led all the way up to a large barn-like building near the northern gate, and brought inside. The front was all wide stalls for horses, or potentially something substantially larger given how spacious they were. Most of them were empty, and Haunch was given one that was big enough to leave the cart with him. The rest of the party was led further to the back of the building where there was one large open space, sparse and undecorated aside from scattered chairs, cushions, and rugs to lounge on. It would have seemed very cozy if it weren't for the large brown bear.
"Don't worry, she's a regular client here, she just never bothers to make reservations," the white-plumed guard assured them. "If you'll wait here, someone will check in with you in a little while to discuss your needs and how long you may be waiting," she said, and then left to return to her guard duties.
The bear was as startled to see them as they were to see her. She stood quickly up on her hind legs and bared her teeth as she noticed Gruntle. She was nearly as tall as he was, but heavier. She calmed down as she looked from the gnoll to Al, and sat back down to watch them. Al noticed that there was a necklace around her neck, made of a collection of bones, rocks, and oddly-shaped twigs along with one small leather pouch. It was all strung together with a coarse twine of woven grass. She pointed at Gruntle with a forepaw and gave Al a quizzical head-tilt and a questioning "*Rrrrrrrr?*"
"Yes, he's a gnoll," Al told her, wondering what she might be. He could think of two possibilities.
"You're not one of the, uh, fair folk are you?" he asked the bear. She shook her head in a humanish gesture of clear denial.
"Of course, the fair folk are delightful," Al continued cautiously, looking around in case one of the might be hiding nearby, but saw nothing suspicious. At least the bear's explicit denial could be trusted. Al had always heard that the fae wouldn't or perhaps couldn't tell outright lies. "I'm guessing then that you're from one of the druidic traditions?"
The bear nodded. She pawed at her necklace gently, then shied away and gave Al a questioning look as Gruntle ambled over to sniff at her.
"He does things like that, you should be safe as long as you don't provoke a fight. I wouldn't call him civilized but he's a lot less hostile than typical gnolls," Al told her.
"Do the food vendors come by here?" Wikwocket interrupted to ask, "We haven't had proper food in days!"
The bear pushed the nosy gnoll away as politely but firmly as she could, and pawed at the leather pouch on her necklace, looking expectantly at Al.
"You want me to open that?" he asked, and was answered with a nod. He approached and opened the pouch, finding nothing inside but a large handful of purple berries. By leaning to one side, the bear was able to hold out a forepaw turned up to plainly indicate she wanted to be given the berries. Al helpfully dumped some out of the pouch, and the bear held her paw out towards Wikwocket, who took one and chewed on it.
"Oh!" she said, "That's good! What are they?"
The bear answered with conversational-sounding grunts and growls, which nobody else could understand anyway - not even Gruntle. She held out her paw to offer berries to Al, Gruntle, and Bote as well. Even Gruntle seemed to enjoy the small snack despite its total meatlessness. The bear sniffed with curiosity at the gnoll for a moment before relaxing back into a seated position. With some gestures she managed to get Al to take the remaining berries and put them back in her pouch. He did so, finding it interesting that after just the one berry he'd eaten, he no longer felt hungry. Gruntle had settled down into a crouch as well, looking content for the moment or perhaps just sleepy. Al yawned as this reminded him just how tired he was after the last two days.
"No idea how long we might be waiting here," Al suggested, sitting down against a wall and trying to get comfortable on one of the rugs. "Might was well take a nap for a while, maybe when they finally get around to us we can..."
"Wikwocket D. Flibbendorfer, Aloysius Arcanisen, Bote Wissengräber, Gruntle?" a man with a loud, clear voice of a herald and a neat staff uniform called out, interrupting Al's statement.
"That's us!" Wikwocket answered back.
"Another guest has vouched for you and made arrangements. If you'll follow me we can discuss your needs."
The bear's grumbling and growling was clearly an objection of some sort.
"You know you can simply request a reservation in advance instead of wandering out of the woods without notice," the unperturbed staff-member answered back, then returned his attention to Wikwocket.
"Also, the gentleman who vouched for you requested that I return your dropped property to you."
He held out a small leather coinpurse for her.
"Ah, thank you, I was wondering where that was," she said as she accepted it, though Al thought she seemed a little skeptical.
They all gathered their things and followed the man back out, leaving the unhappy bear behind.