Empirical Gnollage: Installment 95 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment095.png]

Al stoically withstood the laughter at his expense with the closest thing to a smile that he could muster. Apparently it wasn't very convincing since it only made Wikwocket and Winifred laugh harder. It took an uncomfortable minute or two for them to settle down.

"You're fun, I like you," Winifred chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from her face, "but we'd best get to eating. Big fella looks hungry. Never seen a real gnoll, is that what they actually look like? Hey! I don't care what you're being today, don't drool on my floor!"

Gruntle actually closed his mouth, to Al's surprise. Stephen directed everyone to their assigned places at the table, Gruntle shoving his chair aside to just crouch down. He stared at the array of forks, spoons, and knives arrayed on either side of the empty plate and finally grabbed two forks at random while Stephen took Winifred's plate and loaded it up with - as Stephen announced along the way - confit of duck, braised lamb shank, baked fancy cheese, and a pate of poultry liver with vinegar-based glaze that visibly glowed a greenish-blue color. Al stared suspiciously at the plate as Stephen set it down for Winifred and picked up Al's.

"The vinegar is phosphorescent?" Al probed.

"Oh, yeah! Head chef was so excited, some nut made vinegar out of goblin wine! Said he got a whole barrel of it for only a hundred gold!" Winifred cackled, ignoring the silverware and just picking up a lamb shank. She dipped it in the runny baked cheese and bit into it. Al thought he saw Stephen wince.

"Do I look like an elf?," Winifred snapped at Stephen around the mouthful of food. This time Al definitely saw Stephen wince. "I haven't got much time left, I'm not going to waste it figuring out if I'm supposed to use the aspic fork or the soup fork!"

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Al said sympathetically, "I didn't realize you were ill."

"I'm not! I'm old! I could keel over any minute!"

Stephen leaned down as he set Al's plate down in front of him.

"She's been saying that for at least the last fifteen years that I've been here," he whispered.

Gruntle was looking impatiently from his plate to Stephen and back, so Stephen took Gruntle's plate next.

Winifred tossed the bone from the lamb-shank onto her plate and wiped her hands on her napkin. Then, she reached down the front of her nightgown and pulled out a rolled piece of paper, which turned out to be the map Al had made of the Lavatio when she unrolled it on the table.

"So," Winifred said, nodding to the map while she picked up a slice of the candied duckmeat and used the biggest spoon to scoop some of the pate onto it, "it looks like you went over the whole site. Not exactly professional cartography but that's why we send a survey crew after you."

Stephen set a heaping plate of food down for Gruntle, who was clutching his forks as he watched Stephen intently. Stephen got to work serving Wikwocket and Bote. Still holding the forks, Gruntle turned his head sideways, opened his jaws wide, and leaned down to close his mouth on most of the food on his plate. He sat back up and crunched on the bones noisily a few times before swallowing.

"Well, can't fault you for really committing to the part," Winifred remarked. It was Al's turn to wince in embarrassment, but at least Stephen gave him a sympathetic look. Winifred stuffed the pate-topped strip of candied duckmeat into her mouth. "'dja get rid of everthun' danjrous?" she pronounced wetly through the food.

"As far as we can tell, yes, other than what I'd call environmental hazards. We cleared out a nest of giant rats, exterminated some disturbingly and unnaturally large spiders, killed some filthy goblins up to no good in there, and someone had some zombies locked up in the old caretaker's room with some sort of magical formation," Al listed, deciding to omit mention of the crazy undead spider. Having to explain where it went seemed like it would be problematic.

"Oh, yeah, Stephen mentioned you wanted to go back and draw a picture of it. Don't see why not, survey crew having some proven adventurer types around for protection might be nice," Winifred said, stirring the remaining duckmeat, melted soft cheese, and liver pate together with a spoon. She lifted a spoonful of the uncouth mixture to her mouth with one hand and reached again down the front of her nightgown with the other. "Keep talking, I'll get your pay figured out," she said, pulling out a soft leather pouch. She took a bottle of ink and a stylus from the pouch.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Yes, well, I don't think there's much left to worry about in there. There's a place where the ceiling has fallen in and it's got slimy algae growing all over it, so it's a little dangerous to walk around in," Al continued, standing up to point at the spot on the map. "Also, over here is where the source of the Lavatio's water is. It's guarded by some sort elemental creatures of water. They almost certainly are dangerous but as far as we can tell they're not going to harm anyone who isn't tampering with it. The entrance is a magically-locked an inobvious doorway, so nobody should be going in there accidentally. I think they should be left alone, I think they keep the water flowing, and if you got rid of them the *Lavatio* might dry up."

After a quick look around the table for something to write on, Winifred grabbed a clean napkin, earning her another wince from Stephen.

"It's just cloth, and it's still legal as long as I sign it," Winifred insisted, and began writing on the napkin, muttering to herself as she listened.

"Let's see, one hundred for doing the job, fifty for the map, hundred and fifty for getting rid of everything dangerous. Didn't expect goblins around here," she said, writing the numbers on the napkin. She looked up at the map where Al was pointing to Water. Winifred read the annotation.

"Oh, yeah, who's Cleodora? That sounds like an elvish name." she asked.

"Uh, she's the caretaker," Al replied. "When we left she was trying to get the place cleaned up."

"We were fairly certain the place was abandoned," Winifred said.

"It is, Cleodora is the only one left."

"Can't rightly be considered abandoned if someone's still living there."

"She's...not living."

Winifred narrowed her eyes at Al.

"Um...she's a ghost. We think she died there sometime after it was abandoned."

Winifred frowned, and scratched out the hundred and fifty.

"You want to tell me why you got rid of everything else and left a vengeful undead abomination floating around to prey on the living?"

"She's not really dangerous now..."

"Not dangerous, eh?" Winifred said, watching the fearsome gnoll cringing and baring his teeth.

"I mean, we had a bit of a misunderstanding and..."

Al stopped himself from saying more for fear that his lingering resentment might make him say something unhelpful. He understood, rationally, that the tortured spirit's behavior was not really malicious and shouldn't threaten anyone now that the ghost was free to fulfill her purpose, but his feelings weren't rational.

He looked over to Wikwocket for help. "You're better at this kind of thing, could you explain?"

"Gladly!" Wikwocket answered. She stood up on her chair and struck a dramatic pose befitting the storytelling challenge.

"A tragic story of a dedicated custodian of her beloved Lavatio! When all others had abandoned it, she remained to care for it. Alas, the unstoppable ravages of time were too much for one person to hold back, and she was killed by falling stone in the baths! Awakened, her spirit clung to her duty and strove to continue cleaning her cherished facility. But, lo! Bound to her mortal remains she was trapped in the room where she perished, alone for decades or even centuries and maddened by frustration, she lashed out with terrible supernatural power against any who invaded her prison. Her torment continued until a kindly and brave band of adventurers saw through the anguish that caused her to lash out! They heard her pleas, and offered her aid! In need of mortal strength she borrowed..."

Wikwocket's eye twitched, but she didn't lose the tone of the story.

"...borrowed the flesh of the strongest to free her mortal remains and spread her throughout, so she can once more fulfill her purpose! And now, content, she labors diligently and ceaselessly for the restoration of the Lavatio!"

"Very nice," Winifred said as Wikwocket finished, "but back up a little. What was that about spread her throughout?"

"Well, her problem was that she can only be where her mortal remains are, so we...uh...put some of her bones in every room so she can clean everywhere," Al explained sheepishly. Winifred gave him a skeptical glare.

"You intentionally put haunted bones everywhere, so an incorporeal undead abomination can haunt the whole place?"

"Uh...yes?" Al admitted, pleading silently with his eyes for help from Wikwocket and Bote.

"Her purpose is the restoration of the Lavatio," Bote interjected, "so the ability for her spirit to access the whole facility to perform her work is what calms her spirit and allows her to provide her services. Her very purpose favors the restoration of the Lavatio that Hell's Bathtub plans."

"She's still an abomination. Our baths are not mere services, we are a holy place, the mortal home of the goddess Balnea Infernala. We cannot have the undead befouling our facilities!"

"But, she just wants to clean! That's a good thing to do for a holy place, right?" Wikwocket argued.

"It doesn't matter what a ghost wants, we've got actual people to clean things and repair things already, no sacrilege required!"

"But, she works nonstop! She's already dead so she can't starve to death, so you don't even need to feed her. She doesn't sleep either, so you don't need to give her a bed!" Wikwocket tried.

"That's really not important."

"You don't have to pay her, either!"

Winifred opened her mouth to object, but said nothing. The argument had made an impression.

"No wages?" She considered. Gruntle had stopped paying attention and was obsessively licking the remaining bits of food from his plate, but the other three adventurers watched Winifred for a decision. Finally, Winifred took up the stylus, and wrote the hundred-and-fifty back onto the napkin.

"You'd best go back with the survey crew, if she does something to them you'll not be getting your bonus," Winifred declared. "It may still not make any difference, when we consecrate the Lavatio it will be up to Balnea Infernala what the fate of your dead woman's ghost will be, but I'll give her a chance. Wouldn't want to see that handsome, rugged young face looking sad!" she said, batting her eyelashes at Al.

Wikwocket nearly fell ouf of her chair with laughter.