Empirical Gnollage: Installment 76 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment076.png]
Al wasn't sure just how much information he should share with the mysterious Cyrus Borge, but it wasn't as though much of it was especially secret.
"If you want the whole story, the expert is the wizard Melissa Browne of Goatminster. She should be publishing her research soon," he explained, "She convinced us to join up with him as a field experiment, and we've been questing together for a couple of weeks now."
"There was no sign of supernatural influence that I could see," Cyrus said, "how do you control it...him?"
Al looked over to Gruntle, who seemed to be more focused on his plate of meat and cheese than the conversation.
"We...don't, really," he said, but hastened to continue when he saw Cyrus' concerned expression, "not directly anyway, it's just a matter of understanding what he needs and wants just like anyone else. He's ...dangerous, but he's not complicated, really."
"It helps that he has a healthy respect for the magical prowess of our mighty shaman," Bote added.
"Two shaman," Gruntle corrected, looking up from his food. "Bad shaman," he said, pointing to Al, "Good shaman," he continued, pointing to Bote. "Strong party. Some clans don't even have one shaman."
"What's so bad about me?" Al complained. Gruntle flinched, looking back down at his food.
"Bad shaman stuff for clan enemy. Good shaman stuff for clan," he grumbled.
"I believe our inarticulate ally is praising your ability to do magical harm to those who oppose us, and myself as a conduit of divine will to heal and protect," Bote explained. Gruntle gave a grunt of affirmation, then after a moment looked up in Al's direction and added a vigorous humanish nod of his inhuman head.
"How is that fair? Until today I had literally just one way to do harm to anyone with wizardry, and I've always spent a lot more time using magic to examine things, fix things, or carry things," Al argued. "Plus, we've all seen you conjuring divine light down from the heavens to burn our enemies, why am I the bad one?"
"Clearly, your direct conjuration of violence makes more of an impression for a gnoll than your more utilitarian magic. As for me, I expect that miraculous healing is not something a gnoll would typically experience and so is unique. My presence nearby when Divine Will chooses to punish interference with the Ineffable Plans that I have drawn attention to is not so noteworthy by comparison."
"Divine healing can be applied to gnolls?" Cyrus asked, with the confused, quirky smile of someone enjoying a puzzle.
"It seems I am permitted to call upon it for this gnoll, at least," Bote answered, "so it seems Gruntle has a role of his own in the Ineffable Plans."
Cyrus chuckled. "That definitely sounds ineffable, yes. And, you said you got this one from someone named Melissa Browne? How did she acquire him?"
"The whole explanation is complicated, but he was very young and had gone off to hunt when Melissa's adventuring party showed up to put down the rest of his clan in the village the gnolls had just raided and slaughtered," Al summarized, "they found him afterwards and sort of adopted him. I mean, it wasn't actually that simple but it's all in her dissertation."
Cyrus looked from Al to Gruntle and back.
"It does seem quite remarkable that you've gotten so comfortable in such a short time about traveling with a violent and possibly demonic beast," he remarked, watching Gruntle carefully as he said it. Gruntle gave no apparent reaction, either not hearing or not caring.
"Oh, I wouldn't say comfortable, it's really sort of...," Al began, but tapered off. He mentally prodded his recent memories, looking for the fear or at least concern that he thought he ought to be feeling. Even the memory of putting his face in front of Gruntle's open jaws and reaching all the way back between those jagged teeth to pry the leech from its attachment at the back of the gnoll's tongue had no fear associated with it.
Well, except for the fear that I'm going crazy because this doesn't seem mentally normal, Al thought to himself. That first day had all the expected worry in it, but it was already starting to feel like it was normal by that night. Except for a few dominance tests along the way and worrying about how other people are going to react, it really hasn't been uncomfortable at all, has it? Well, waking up that morning in Turnipseed practically snuggling a gnoll was kind of uncomfortable, but that was weird and awkward instead of scary. Maybe I should ask Bote, this sort of psychological crap seems like something they might have some insight into.
"Hey, Al, you okay in there?" Wikwocket teased as Al got lost in thought.
"What? Oh, uh, yeah, just thinking." Al shook his head. "He just sort of fits into our party, contrary to any rational expectation. I can't really explain it," he told Cyrus.
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"He almost died fighting to protect us! It was heart-breakingly sad!" Wikwocket added cheerfully.
Gruntle unconsciously reached down to scratch at the patch of unevenly-regrowing fur over the scar on his right side as he lapped at the wine in his glass.
Cyrus scratched his chin thoughtfully. "This is actually valuable information you've brought for us. I should warn you that you'll have a much harder time getting him into a place like Southwall where the former library is. It's not the sort of place where people often walk around in public in the shape of monsters. What will you do?"
"I don't know yet," Al admitted. "We'll have to figure something out after we get done here I guess."
"You should have a few days to come up with a solution, after your service here is finished. I suggest you not take too long, though - the longer someone gnoll-shaped is seen wandering freely here, the more attention you'll draw. Someone is bound to start asking questions."
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The rest of the dinner was filled with Wikwocket's dramatic retelling of anecdotes illustrating what Gruntle was like. Cyrus seemed to enjoy the novelty, and Al did his best to offer some possible explanations along the way, based on what he'd read so far of Melissa's treatise and from his own experience. After an hour or so, the food and wine were gone and the conversation tapered off.
Al was concerned that none of the discussion had been about this mysterious cause that Cyrus had mentioned, and he was no closer to understanding what they were getting themselves tangled in. He was afraid to ask for fear of spoiling the act Wikwocket seemed to be successfully pulling off, though, so he went along with it as best he could.
"The food is gone and the hour is late," Cyrus finally announced, "and I still have some tasks to finish before my day is done. I'll get word to the magistrate of Hell's Bathtub that you will take on their job, I would expect you'll be contacted by them tomorrow morning. As for the service you're performing for our cause, take this."
Cyrus reached into his shirt, and took out a small metal disk, about twice the size of a typical coin. He handed it to Wikwocket. It had a detailed engraving of a housefly on it.
"When and if you find and successfully subdue the necromantic thing we believe you'll find there, rub your thumb around rim of this five times and someone will come to collect it from you. If you don't find anything, or if you are unable to deal with it without destroying it, I will follow up with you once you return."
"The cause can count on us!" Wikwocket assured him, and pocketed the disk.
Cyrus picked up the handbell and rang it again. A server opened the door moments later.
"We've finished our dinner, please show my guests out," said Cyrus, "I'll be along myself in a moment."
The servant nodded politely and beckoned the others to exit.
"Well, thanks for the dinner. I'm glad we can be useful," Al said as he stood. Bote gave a polite bow, and Gruntle even gave a grunt of agreement, and the three of them headed out of the room.
"A private moment before we leave, please," Cyrus whispered to Wikwocket as she jumped down to the floor from her chair.
"What is it?" she asked. Cyrus reached into his shirt again, and took out a clean linen handkerchief, which he handed over. She took it from him with a grin.
"Thanks!" she said confidently.
"Would you say," Cyrus quietly said to her, "that I have appropriately answered your request for help?"
"Oh, yes, I'm sure this will work out great!" she replied.
Cyrus grinned knowingly. "So, you were not of the cause."
"What? Why would you say that?" Wikwocket responded with indignation.
"Because," Cyrus replied, "even now you're still signaling that you are seeking assistance." He ignored Wikwockets protestations, and pointed to BiteySue's hilt over her shoulder.
"You will want to cover the spider-mark unless you are looking for help from others of the cause. If you see the spider-mark from someone else, you are obligated to offer what help you can, in exchange for an agreed-upon service or the usual payment. If you cannot help, you at least owe them the regular payment or some other service that can be agreed upon."
One last attempt to bluff withered in Wikwocket's throat, to be replaced by a question.
"Wait, if I'm not part of this cause, why are you telling me this?" She asked, taking a wary step backwards. Cyrus laughed.
"I said you weren't of the cause, but these things happen for reasons. You are in with us now whether you intended it or not. I hope we will not disappoint one another."
"That's great! So what's this cause all about?" Wikwocket probed. She reached back to tie the handkerchief around BiteySue's hilt to hide it.
"That can wait until you're ready to know it." Cyrus saw Wikwocket's dissatisfaction with that answer, and relented just a little. "I'll say this much, your wizard spoke a bit about his studies and goals tonight. I judge that he, at least, will approve of what we're about once he is initiated and permitted to know. We can talk more once you're back from your job."
"What can I tell the others?"
"Since there isn't much that you know, you may tell them whatever you want to for now. Oh, I suppose I should at least tell you how much the usual payment is, in case you need to give or receive payment. It's..."
"...One hundred and seventy-three gold coins, right?" Wikwocket finished for him, grinning mischievously.
Cyrus gave her a long look. "After you return, if you'll give me an explanation of how you knew that, I'll give you a statement of our cause's purpose."
"Deal," she agreed, "I can tell you right now if you want!"
"No, save it for next time. Your companions are waiting and will be wondering what's taking us so long, and your gnoll's large ears make me suspect he may be listening to us already anyway."
A gnollish grunt sounded out from the hallway outside.
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"...but he said he thought you'd approve of the cause, whatever it is, when you find out!" Wikwocket was reassuring Al as they made their way back to the center of the village. Candle and lamplight from occasional windows as they passed provided just enough light for Al to almost not trip over anything in the dark. Fortunately for him, once they got out of the alleys and back to the main streets, there were few obstacles.
"Can we be sure this isn't some sort of elaborate set-up to rob, murder, or enslave us or something?" Al wondered aloud.
"While Cyrus Borge's motivations are somewhat mysterious," Bote opined, "I do not feel that he has knowingly told us any falsehoods. He is certainly withholding information, but it seems he is not trying to hide that he is doing this. I believe his explanation of the task Hell's Bathtub wants done is legitimate, as is his request that we capture whatever it is that he believes is in the Lavatio. I cannot guess as to what his cause may intend to do with whatever they learn from it, but I think he at least believes it is for some moral good and not profit or conquest."
"You think it's okay to take the jobs then?" Al asked.
"We are taking these jobs!" Wikwocket insisted, "It'd be inexcusable to pass up an exciting mystery like this one!"
"All right. I can't say I feel as confident as you do about it, but I can't really think of a good reason not to go along with it. It's only a couple of hours walking to get to the turnoff to the Lavatio, so if they give us the details in the morning we should have some time to take care of some errands and buy some supplies before we head out."
Gruntle yawned widely, showing off his entire array of frightening teeth. Al found himself yawning in response. Wikwocket and Bote joined in after him.
"After plenty of sleep, I hope," Al suggested.