Empirical Gnollage: Installment 113 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment113.png]
"You know, scholars think that gnomes are descended from fae who stayed in the mortal world too long," commented Al.
"I have also heard this," Bote agreed, "though I wonder what has brought this to your thoughts at this time."
"Mostly, I'm wondering what sort of latent mind-affecting magic Wikwocket inherited, because I refuse to believe I agreed to all of this without supernatural forces clouding my mind."
Al let go of the mostly-naked corpse's pants and let the corpse's leg fall limply to the ground.
"Hey, Al, we should check the guy for tattoos!" he said, mocking Wikwocket's voice bitterly. "For someone that's so keen on doing heroic things, stripping the clothes off of dead people seems like an awfully un-heroic thing to suggest."
"Perhaps this is why her suggestion involved going somewhere else while you are engaged in the undignified investigation," Bote offered as the two of them looked down at the disrobed body. "It is a reasonable suggestion, since it is not uncommon for someone to be marked secretly to symbolize fealty, or membership in a group."
Whoever the dead man had been in life, his skinny body seemed less suitable for fighting or other dangerous activity than for sitting on a couch looking bored while servants dealt with anything that required effort. He was a natural human as far as Al could tell, and no tattoos or other intentional markings were to be found. There was a surprising quantity of scars, though, a majority on the arms and hands but several more on his body and legs. There was even a scar across the top of the man's head, made a bit less obvious by combing of the hair to obscure it. Al guessed that the man had been only a bit older than himself, perhaps a quarter-century old.
"I'm not so sure, she's always seemed eager to loot the bodies, and that's not exactly heroic either."
"I think perhaps she was more eager to find out what she could overhear from the occupants of the establishment from which we have driven the goblins. I'm sure the mystery of where we are and what happened is of interest to her, along with what they may be saying about us of course."
"I'm still not very comfortable with this. The last time we agreed to let her go off spying by herself she nearly got herself eaten by this..."
Al looked around for the gnoll he was about to point to. He groaned, scrutinizing the small clearing in the pine forest where they'd concealed themselves. Besides Al, Bote, and the mysterious dead man, there was only Haunch the donkey with their cart, looking back in the direction Wikwocket had left several minutes ago.
"Where did he go this time?!"
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Wikwocket watched from the edge of the woods nearest the back of the inn, waiting for a good moment to approach. Three people where sticking close together as they walked trepidatiously around the building looking for any lurking little green threats. One held a lantern, and the other two were holding the cleaver and meat-tenderizing hammer that one of the goblins had tried to escape with before Haunch stomped it to death. The one with the hammer was the middle-aged man who had been hanging onto the bottom of the trapdoor, and she recognized the one with the cleaver as the one she'd spoken to briefly. Happily, they all appeared unhurt, though still frightened as they talked to each other in what they seemed to think were quiet tones.
"I think they're really gone, you saw all the dead ones in the pantry and upstairs, and then that one out front. The gnomish lady and her friends must have gotten rid of them all."
"The goblins, maybe, but what about the gnolls? Got to be a lot harder to scare off gnolls than goblins!"
"Cedric, we already told you, that gnomish lady said it was just her big friend that startled you, and they probably just call themselves the gnoll party because the big guy is scary and good at fighting. Nobody else thinks they saw actual gnolls."
"That crazy demon-woman said she heard one!"
"Really, Cedric! You can't call them that any more, especially when they're guests! Besides, she also said the goblins made her door explode. I'm not sure you can believe everything she says."
"Oh, yeah? Well, if that's the case, why did you agree not to make her pay for the door?"
"Because she agreed not to blame us for the goblins! We do a lot of good business here, the last thing we need is angry people telling everyone that it's not safe to stay at the Golden Penance Inn any more because of goblin raids! That's one less guest we have to try to convince not to start warning people away!"
"We'd better have a really friggin' great breakfast this morning. It's a miracle we didn't find any dead or dying guests."
"What about that Smith kid, or whatever his real name is? His room was completely torn up and we have no idea what happened to him."
"He already paid us, so good riddance to him. Never seen him before so he's not a regular customer, and the scrawny little weirdo is kind of creepy, so not finding him means I don't have to talk to him again. He's probably fine, it's not like we found any blood except where the demon-woman..."
"Cedric!"
"...said the goblin made the window explode. Pretty sure that's the goblin she's talking about over there. And there. And there... ," Cedric said, pointing out one large and several small chunks on the ground near the corner of the building.
Their voices faded as they rounded the corner, speculating about what they could possibly make for the morning meal that would make up for the unpleasantness of the night. Wikwocket was tensed to move closer when she noticed Gruntle's arrival. Gruntle himself wasn't obvious, but the silencing of the nearby crickets was a subtle sign. She grinned and grunted quietly to acknowledge that she'd noticed, and got an answering grunt from some nearby bushes. She dashed for the back wall of the inn. Gruntle couldn't move as quietly as she could, but she still wasn't sure she'd have noticed him following her if she hadn't known he was there. They crouched below the kitchen window with the most light coming out of it, and Wikwocket grabbed the edge of the sill to pull herself up to peek inside. An older woman that Wikwocket had seen down in the cellar nervously puttered around the stewpot, occasionally looking up and around to make sure nothing was sneaking up on her. Wikwocket quietly dropped back to the ground and pressed against the wall as the woman's gaze swept towards the window. The light from inside dimmed as the woman came to the window to look out towards the forest. She squeaked as a voice startled her.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
"You see anything?" Cedric's voice asked.
"No, no. Just nerves," the woman answered. "For a moment I thought I saw another one, but there's nothing out there."
"Gnolls probably ate 'em."
"Cedric!"
"I tell you I saw one! Right there in the pantry! It almost bit my head off!"
"All we saw was that brave gnomish woman who saved us, how could there have been a gnoll up there with her?"
"She killed those goblins, maybe she killed it, too."
Wikwocket's quiet snort of suppressed hilarity went unheard by the arguing couple inside.
"We would have noticed a dead gnoll, Cedric."
"Maybe it killed her!"
"We didn't find a dead gnome, either, Cedric."
"They eat people! Probably ate her!"
"Cedric, it's been a terrible night, and your wild fantasies..."
"I know what I saw! If gnolls didn't eat 'em, why isn't this gnome of yours and her supposed friends here right now demanding some kind of reward? Never mind, you get the pans out, I'll drag those dead goblins out of the pantry and go down in the cellar for the good bacon and the breakfast brandy we've been saving. None of this is going to matter if customers stop showing up."
The window brightened up again as the woman moved away. Wikwocket pulled herself back up for a quick look and saw Cedric and the woman share a brief hug before moving over to the food-preparation room next door. Wikwocket dropped back down again and looked up towards the corner of the building where the broken-out window on the second floor was. She got Gruntle's attention, and with some gesturing and quiet animalistic noises, managed to suggest that Gruntle stay hidden where he is as a lookout while she climbed up to take a look. His replying grunt told her he at least agreed to whatever he thought she meant.
Good enough, Wikwocket thought, uncoiling her small grappling hook and its colorful yarn "rope" from inside her left sleeve. She stuck close to the wall as she moved, pausing at each ground-floor window to discreetly check inside. She saw the woman setting the table back upright and picking up the things that had been spilled on the floor. Cedric was dragging a dead goblin out of the pantry and back towards the room with the stewpot. Wikwocket giggled quietly as the question of whether or not goblin stew would be good - she assumed not, but the idea was delightfully absurd.
The last window on the ground floor showed shelves of pots, pans, and dishes. Nobody occupied the room at the moment, so Wikwocket stepped away from the wall, avoiding bits of goblin and shards of glass, and swung her grappling hook up to the broken window on the second floor. She ascended quickly, pulling the line up behind her, just so that nobody would see it if they happened to look outside. It took some finesse to avoid the shards of broken glass still in the window frame but a few moments later Wikwocket stood in the abused guest-room.
The door to the room had been shut again and seemed undamaged. The shards of broken glass in the window frame and surrounding wall were speckled with soot-like splatters and small holes, and there was still a lingering smoky alchemical smell in the air. The straw that had been stuffed in the mattress was partly scattered across the floor and partly still hanging out of the slashes in the mattress. The feather pillows had been similarly vandalized and goose-down mingled with the straw on the floor. The bed itself had been pulled out away from the wall, leaving a broken chamberpot on the floor where the bed had been. One leg was broken off of the night-table which lay on its side on the floor. The fireplace was cold, a stack of fresh logs still waiting unburnt in it.
Wikwocket tucked her hook and yarn-rope back up her sleeve and freed her rapier from its wooden home on her back. She held it ready while she went silently to listen at the door. Hearing nothing of concern, she quietly lifted the latch to peek out into the hallway outside. The low flames from a fireplace down the hall provided enough light to clearly see the smears of blood where small bodies had been dragged away towards the far end of the hallway, where Wikwocket presumed the stairs were. Sounds of furniture being set back up echoed from somewhere downstairs. On the wall opposite the room Wikwocket was in, the wall and third door down the hall had large splinters of wood embedded in them and more of the soot-marks.
If that's Al's latest magic-fire-fingers trick, I'm impressed!.
Wikwocket slowly closed the door again and returned to her investigation of the abused room. She jabbed the bedframe, mattress, nightstand, and the logs on the fire with the sharp point of her rapier and was a little disappointed but not surprised that none of them turned out to be disguised monsters. Neither were the blankets, which she spread out and shook but found nothing covered by or tangled up in them.
Whoever was in here was either traveling light, or only had things that were small enough for goblins to run off with, Wikwocket speculated.
The scream outside and sound of a slamming door roused her from her investigation and she rushed to the window.
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The gratifying amount of violence the day had started with took the edge off of the urges and allowed Gruntle to enjoy this scouting expedition more patiently. The rest of his clan seemed to be treating the non-goblins here as clan, and the place smelled pleasantly of food and drink, so this was obviously a play-raid for entertainment and practice rather than a real impending slaughter. Play-raids were enjoyable, but it was difficult to concentrate on them when the urges to rip and smash and bite were too distracting.
The gnoll crouched low against the wall, away from the window and next to the back door where their pretend-prey wouldn't easily spot him until it was too late for them. He waited patiently by gnollish standards, listening to the sound of someone repeatedly dragging something into the room beyond, walking away, and then returning to drag something in again. Getting ready to make food sounds came from inside as well, as someone set up the food-making weaponry. Gruntle began to drool at the thought.
Gruntle heard a groan of effort, then heavy footsteps came to the door. It swung open inward, and Cedric staggered out with a dead goblin over his shoulder. He threw it as far as he could away from him out onto the ground outside, then turned to go back in for the next one.
He screamed to find himself face-to-face with a hungrily drooling gnoll, the amber glow of its eyes focused upon him and teeth gleaming in the light from the open door. He ran back inside to slam the door shut and bar it.
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Poor Cedric, Wikwocket thought with a giggle, recognizing the scream. Time to go!
With only another moment's delay to avoid the shards of broken glass, Wikwocket dropped back down from the window to the ground and beckoned for Gruntle to follow as she hurried directly back towards the barn they'd started from rather than heading back for the woods immediately, so as not to be seen by anyone looking out of the windows from the kitchen.
"What did you do?" she asked Gruntle as they sped past the back of the barn where the blood-smeared grass was - they'd completely defaced the remains of the pattern the crazy man had made before they retreated into the nearby pine woods for cover.
"Looked at 'em," Gruntle answered.
"He's going to be ranting about gnolls for a long time now! Al and Bote could probably hear that scream from all the way over there!" Wikwocket said with a laugh. "Hopefully Al won't be too mad at us."
Gruntle's footfalls faltered, so Wikwocket stopped as well to look back. She couldn't help but laugh again when she realized why he was crouched down and looking ahead pensively.
"He's not going to do anything to us, don't worry!" she said. Al was right, seeing a gigantic demonic beast acting afraid of him really is absurd! "We just need to make sure he's in a good mood. Oh, I have an idea! You know what'd be really funny?"