Empirical Gnollage: Installment 71 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment071.png]
The fire had not only heat and pressure, but also a texture as Al pulled it into existence from some far-off otherworldly place. At Al's command it reached out widely before him, then curled itself back up among his fingers, then stretched upwards to perch on the crossbow bolts hovering weightlessly in the air over his head. Al felt his mind stretch like a new piece of clothing conforming to a large wearer. The flames came together in front of his face, radiating heat and light at an intensity just past the edge of comfort.
Something in the flames wanted Al's attention. The flames dimmed to a dull blood-red and flickered. Craving was there behind the flames, somewhere. A sense of fear, anger, and hunger communicated itself through the flames without words, around an instinctual need for...
Al had almost understood, when the interrupting roar reverberated through the void Al stood in. The flame went out as Al's concentration broke.
And then, as Al woke from his dream, the roar repeated only to quickly resolve itself down to Wikwocket's snoring.
He wasn't sure what time of day it was, but he felt well-rested and the concepts he'd been trying to juggle in a state of exhaustion were now clear. Not wanting to waste the inspiration, he commanded the candle on his nightstand to ignite itself and retrieved his notes and writing supplies from his pack. He was still eagerly scribbling diagrams and arcane symbols when someone knocked on the door to announce that it was one hour past sunrise. Al grumbled at the interruption, but he finished sketching out the diagram he was working on and then closed his book of notes. He re-stoppered his bottles of ink and cleaned his pen before putting the writing supplies away carefully.
Wikwocket groaned sleepily. "Whose idea was it to put morning so early in the day?" she complained as she sat up, still wearing the towel-toga from the evening before.
"The elves may likely be to blame for that since it is said they were the first to use language," Bote suggested, already awake and wrapped in two large towels, "They have had millenia to redefine morning and have not done so."
"I hope this is productive, I think I've just about gotten my mind around making fire. Once we get to somewhere I can experiment safely I should be able to finish, then I can get back to what I really need to do. I just need to find a copy of that book," said Al. He took off his shirt, wrapped a towel around himself, then removed his trousers. He wadded them up to magic them clean and unfolded them again, leaving them on the bed.
A fuzzy floral-scented hyena-like head stuck out from under Al's cot. Seeing everyone was preparing to go somewhere, Gruntle crawled out, stood, and stretched dramatically. The smell of flowers on him had diminished overnight down to merely too much from its original choking fumes level, so that at least that had improved.
"Should we bring anything besides the towels?" Al wondered aloud. Wikwocket's answer was to grab the belts that held BiteySue's sheathe on her back and buckle them over her improvised toga.
"Is it really okay to be armed for this?"
"Lots of people are walking around here armed. Last night, when I got to the part of the story where we found my still unnamed dagger, some of the audience pulled out daggers of their own to show off. I'm not even sure where some of them were hidden," Wikwocket marveled, sticking her own still-unnamed magical dagger under one of the belts.
"The oath in the name of Balnea Infernala will prevent legitimate customers from harming each other, so there is no real suspicion in being armed," Bote suggested, "Should the unlikely event of a malicious person somehow getting in without swearing the oath, there is a small incentive to be prepared to defend oneself."
Al thought about this, and decided to go through the awkward exercise of buckling the belt for his mace-wand that he wore under his robes. He put it around himself modestly beneath the towel and hung the mace there. Feeling a little foolish but not feeling comfortable leaving Purgatio behind under the circumstances he took the outer belt he wore around his robes and buckled it over the towel with Purgatio's sheathe on it.
A centuries-old ghost gave it to me, I should probably keep an eye on it, he thought.
Gruntle watched them strap weaponry to themselves and decided to join in, hanging his wooden flail from his belt and picking up his well-abused wooden shield to slide his arm through the straps to let it rest at his left shoulder.
Bote just watched. Once everyone else was geared up, they all gave the dwarf a questioning look.
"I have my duty and divine Authority. What more could I possibly need?" Bote said with a shrug.
"Not even going to bring your hammer to fit in with the rest of us freaks who are going to go sit in a sauna with a tools of violence strapped to ourselves?" Al asked, feeling out of place wearing only a towel, two belts, and two different tools of violence.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"She can wait here for me, the Bote that attends this meeting should not require her help."
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Gruntle refused to wear a towel, but he carried one in his left fist. The gnoll continued to draw the curious and occasionally disapproving gazes of a few people passing by in the hallways, but nobody disturbed them as they followed the directions Stephen had given them to the caldaria. Caldarium number three was marked with the Elven III on the door, but was otherwise indistinguishable from the others.
"Let me do the talking!" Wikwocket insisted, stepping to the front and knocking on the door.
"Enter, and be welcome," a baritone voice that they'd heard once before answered. Wikwocket pushed the door open. Once the steam from the room cleared out enough to see, the rotund man they'd met once before was revealed. Clad only in a damp towel on his lap rather than his white-and-gold silks, the man who had seemed to recognize Wikwocket the day before sat there on one of the benches along the walls. He gave Wikwocket a welcoming nod and the others a skeptical squint, which lingered on Gruntle, then moved to Bote. The dwarf gave their customary eye-nose-ear-mouth gesture of their religious affiliation. Their rotund host gave a nod of recognition and seemed to relax a little. Aside from the towel and a substantial amount of sweat, the man wore only a silver chain around his neck with a sheathed dagger dangling from it.
Its grip was wrapped in silver wire in a spider-web pattern, and the silver pommel was cast to resemble a spider.
Wikwocket nodded back at the man, who waited silently until Al closed the door behind them. "Please, sit," the man requested, gesturing to the benches. Gruntle crouched down where he stood, while Al and Bote selected spots on the benches along the side walls. Wikwocket jumped up to sit right next to the mysterious man, who gave her a questioning look and nodded his head at the others.
"It's okay, they can be trusted," she assured him.
"On your word then," the man said, getting down to business. "Payment or service?"
"Payment is simpler, I think," Wikwocket answered.
"I wonder if I could persuade you to offer service instead? We do, in fact, have a matter relevant to our cause that you and your...colleagues look like you might be well-suited for, given your equipment and your presentation as adventurers that you've made the effort to show me this morning."
"Oh, well, if the cause needs us of course we'll consider it. It'll depend on the nature of the service but we're certainly willing."
The man gave another skeptical look to the others. "How much do they know?"
"Only as much as they need to," Wikwocket answered.
"Wait, know about what?" Al asked, getting another glare from the rotund man, but Wikwocket just gave a dismissive wave.
"About that much, yes." she said confidently."Don't mind him, you can smack him if he bothers you."
Al stopped himself from retorting. Wikwocket was obviously up to something, and whatever it was he didn't want to interfere.
"That shouldn't be necessary," the man said, before returning his attention to Wikwocket. "And what it is that you seek?"
"My scholar can explain that one," she answered, pointing to Al who still had no idea what was going on.
"Well, there's a book," Al began. Their mysterious host visibly tensed, but Wikwocket gave Al a subtle nod of encouragement, and he continued. "I need to find a copy of Wotznot P. Higguejiggie's Otherworldly Beings and How to Make them Pay."
The rotund man relaxed. "Are you asking for access to the former library?" he asked.
"Yes, that will serve nicely I think," Wikwocket agreed.
"The binding oath involved is not a part of our cause, but I think you'll find it reasonable, along with the, shall we say, entry fee. Of course, you'll need to be prepared for the dangers but I imagine you're already aware of those, given that it was once a library. Yes, this can be arranged, I imagine that must by why you are headed to Southwall."
"You're well-informed!" Wikwocket complimented the man, "so, what's the service that you wanted from us?"
"I'm informed that you traveled through the Bloodless Swamp to get here. Perhaps you noticed the ancient Lavatio somewhat southeast of here."
Al remembered the worn sign with LAV still barely detectable on it, and nodded. Wikwocket nodded as well.
"It just so happens that Hell's Bathtub has recently had its eye on expanding to take it over and restore it. They are offering rewards for exploring the site and removing or at least cataloguing any dangers there. Separately, our cause has information that there is something unnatural there, which we want contained for study. Since you are currently operating as adventurers, we would like you to accept the task of exploring the Lavatio from Hell's Bathtub, as cover while you go in and find the subject and contain it in a condition that is as intact as possible," the man explained.
"What kind...?" Al began to ask, but Wikwocket interrupted.
"Yes, this seems like something we should handle. I'm sure there's some urgency and who knows when another of our cause who is prepared to handle it might come along."
"Good. We'll meet this evening to exchange the details. I'll arrange a private room for dinner at dusk at the Secret Spring tavern."
Gruntle, who had begun to pant heavily from the heat of the sauna, looked up hopefully at the mention of dinner.
"We'll be there," Wikwocket assured him. "If there's nothing else in the meantime, we should probably go for now. Some of us aren't quite used to the heat of a sauna, and we do have some other things to attend to."
The man nodded, and relaxed back against the wall. Al opened the door and a grateful Gruntle stepped out into the much cooler hallway outside. Al and Bote followed.
"Why a gnoll?" the mysterious man asked Wikwocket before she left.
"Oh, well, our scholar has been studying them, and wanted one to observe," Wikwocket answered.
"We may be lucky to have such an aspirant under the circumstances," the man said, apparently pleased. Then he frowned.
"Why does he stink of cheap perfume?" the man asked.
"So that he doesn't stink of what he did when he arrived!" Wikwocket answered, then gave the man a cheerful wave and left, closing the door behind her.
As the group, sweating or panting from the sauna, headed back to their room, Al took the opportunity to seek answers from Wikwocket.
"What was all that about? Who is that, and what's this cause that he kept talking about?"
"I have no idea! Isn't this exciting?!" Wikwocket answered with a manic grin.