Gnoll{species}: Gnolls are a specialized breed of cynocephali that excel at repair and recycling magic. Their ability to purify most mundane materials has led the gnollish species to hold an almost total monopoly on waste disposal throughout the settled world. Shy by nature, gnolls will often wait until nightfall to do their work, preferring to keep their own company whenever possible. Due to the nature of their work, and the times they wish to engage in it, gnolls with often train beasts known as gnollhounds to protect them from vermin class monsters as they work.

  -Excerpt from “Quinoin’s Encyclopedia of The World”-

  The last month of living in a fantasy world had inured Joe to a lot of things that would have otherwise startled him in his past life. The sight of what looked like a mage had infused a bulldog with pure steroids, its muzzle covered in crourk feathers and blood, made him take a step back. The beast stuck out a long black tongue and ran it over its muzzle, cleaning off a lot of the viscera without actually doing anything to make it look less intimidating. In general build, the creature had the same wedge shaped body as a bulldog, but scaled up to the size of a labrador.

  It was mostly hairless, with only a smattering of coarse quill-like bristles sprinkled over its back and shoulders. Its skin was a mottled grey black with black freckles scattered throughout like some sort of charcoal dalmatian. The creature yawned cavernously and treated Joe to a show of yellowed teeth. Deep within its throat, a second set of jaws flexed and yawned as well, letting a rotten corpse-like smell waft over Joe. With his eyes watering from the smell, Joe tipped his head back and caught the creature in his tutorial specs.

  Gnollhound

  Type: Vermin

  PL: 0.5

  Gnollhounds get their name from their association with gnolls who often train them as exterminators for other vermin species that they encounter.

  The gnollhound regarded him with mild interest. The sudden appearance of a human in its alleyway not really seeming to bother it in the slightest. Instead, once it seemed satisfied that he wasn’t going to take its prize the gnollhound turned and went back to its macabre meal. Joe risked getting a little closer to it. If the creature did work with the gnollish garbage collectors, then it would make sense why it was skulking in the back alley hunting crourks. When Joe judged himself close enough, he tried to see if the beast had a collar on. If it had, it was sunk deep between the thick folds of skin around the base of the creature's head. Joe watched in horrified fascination as it polished off the corpse. It seemed to use the outer set of jaws to hold on, while the inner jaws bit chunks out of whatever was in its mouth. Whole sections of the body disappeared down its gullet with the minimum of effort. Eventually the whole thing, bones and all, was gone. Apparently satisfied, the gnollhound turned to look at Joe one more time before waddling off down the alley.

  Joe debated telling the Meadowbrooks about the gnollhound, but ultimately decided against it for the moment. He didn’t want to heap any more worry on the already frazzled new parents. The pups had been getting more adventurous and Mi’Takal had her hands full keeping them in the shop while she and Cha’Takal were working. Cha’Takal had already gotten a tongue lashing when he’d taken them out back to play, and promptly left them out there alone when a customer had needed some help. Instead Joe just told her the crourks were gone and likely not to come back, but he would keep an eye out just in case. He also offered to take their garbage out until he was sure they had moved on which was a gesture the little Meadowbrooks appreciated greatly.

  <><><>

  The appearance of the gnollhound had completely supplanted the memory of the ‘discharge event’ mentioned in his most recent letter from Firmament Analytics Enterprises. It wasn’t until ten the next morning that it violently reasserted itself to him. He’d been helping old Mrs. Parker with her arthritis prescription when the ground jerked so hard it threw the poor woman off her feet. Joe dropped the ointment bottle when he saw her pitch sideways and caught her before she hit the ground. He had just managed to get her lowered safely when his vision whited out as he found himself crushed between two unimaginably hard surfaces. There was the same soul rasping pressure that forced him down into an infinitely long, atom thick line before he snapped back to reality laying sprawled across the floor next to Mrs.Parker. The tremors went on for another minute before it was all over, but Mrs.Parker stayed on the ground trembling herself, not trusting her legs to stand in the state she was in.

  Once Joe was sure she was alright, he got up himself and took stock of his shop. The shop floor itself was mostly untouched, the square bottles in the display case having nowhere to go other than onto their sides. His chemistry equipment however, had not fared so well. In total he’d lost three spirit lamps, a handful of flasks and most heartbreakingly of all, one of his two distiller tubes. Joe sent a silent thank you to whatever gods this world had that none of the spirit lamps had been burning when they fell. Mrs.Parker’s medication had also survived the onslaught, having shuffled its way under one of the nearby displays. Joe gave it, and a mild sedative, to the old woman before seeing her on her way.

  Once she was gone, he checked his apartment and the basement for damage. His biggest concern was checking the brick pillars in the basement, as they held up the weight of much of the floors above them. It was while he was checking them that he found the door. It squatted in the shadows of the stairwell, an ancient looking portal of the dungeon variety, all stout timbers and iron bands. Had Joe not made a thorough search of the basement looking for his start up stock, he would have just assumed that he’d missed it in his initial sweep. He gave the door a tentative push. It swung open without issue or noise into darkness. Joe would have felt a lot better if it had at least made an ominous creek, maybe even a high pitched screech. Anything cliche enough to break the tension knotting in his stomach at the sudden appearance of a doorway below where he slept at night. Instead there was just silence and darkness.

  Not entirely trusting the door that mysteriously appeared during an earthquake, Joe fished out an iron manacoin and cast a candlelight spell. He tossed the glowing coin into the darkness ahead of him. The soft yellow light illuminated a hallway made of regular sandstone blocks, their pale yellow color contrasting the red brick of the wall the door was set into. The coin hit the ground with a bright ringing noise that made Joe worry for a moment that he’d once again accidently grabbed one of his precious silver manacoins. If I did, I’m not going in there after it, he thought, it’s not like you can stop a spell once it starts anyway.

  The mote of light that was the glowing coin rolled for a few more feet before bumping into the wall at a T junction probably thirty or so feet ahead of him. Joe waited to see if anything would happen. When nothing did, he went to take a step inside. He’d taken a full three before a patch of shadow at the far end of the hall pounced on the glowing coin.

  The shifting shadows the beast threw off as it attacked made it difficult to see what the hell it was. All Joe could get were impressions of writhing, like a mass of tentacles or a nest of intertwined snakes. He was so caught up in trying to figure out what it was that, when the ball of nightmares suddenly went still and started to hiss like a kettle, he realized he’d just been standing there like an idiot. All at once the thing rolled towards him, still clutching the coin in its shifting mass. Joe stumbled backwards, making a blind grab for the door. His vision of the horror was temporarily blocked as his tutorial specs threw up a tag for the monster.

  Charybdis Star

  Type:vermin

  Pl: .25

  Charybdis Stars are one of the smallest of the aberrant monster class. Their many arms are covered in sensory feet and stinging pneumatocysts. Preferring dark environments where they can ambush prey, Charybdis Stars will use their arms to grip onto, and climb across ceilings before falling onto prey from above.

  Just as it lept to strike, Joe managed to get the door closed. The two thumps, first of wood on wood, then of monster on wood, happened almost simultaneously. “Nope, fuck that, fuck that” Joe didn’t have a bar to hold the door closed, so he was forced to put his weight up against it until the scraping sound of claws abated. Even then, Joe didn’t relax until another two minutes of silence had passed. Once he was sure the creature had gone, he ran up to his apartment, grabbed a dining chair and returned to wedge it against the door. “I think that’s going to be a problem for future me,” Joe muttered surveying his handiwork. “I’m going to go to Fairchild’s Foundry today so I’ll just pick up some nails.”

  <><><>

  Fairchild Foundry was a shop like his where they had split their charter in two. It operated as both the local blacksmith, and the glassmaker for Academyway. Apparently shipping fees were high enough, and the roads were rough enough, that most people didn’t want to risk buying glassware from the catalogs. Joe heard the shop before he saw it. The rhythmic ringing of hammer on steel had been like a homing beacon that could be heard from blocks away.

  It was probably the reason that the smithy was located closer to the outskirts of town than along the city’s main road. The building was made out of the same red brick as every other building in Academyway, with small windows in the upper floor to let the light in. Much like Marrie Carries Cafe however, it had seen extensive modifications made to it at some point in the past. The long, two story building had one broad side open to the street with thick brick pillars supporting the weight of the second floor. Between the pillars long wooden tables had been set out with various bits of glassware and tools, creating a makeshift counter. A blacksmith’s forge sat along one of the short walls with its opposite wall playing host to an egg-shaped glass oven. The rear long wall was stacked high with crates, presumably of supplies.

  The only person currently at the shop was a tall green skinned woman working at the large anvil. She had the lanky, pole bean build of a recently sprouted youth, a look that was not helped by the silver wire that wrapped around two protruding fangs that jutted from her lower lip. Above them, her nose had a slightly upturned slant to it and her eyes had a dark, focused look to them. Her long black hair was tied back in a lanky ponytail by a strip of leather. She wore brown leather pants and a sleeveless shirt under a thick leather apron. She was completely unaware of Joe's approach as she mechanically pounded out nail after nail from a piece of round stock held in a pair of tongs. I wonder, Joe thought ideally as he watched her work. Each red hot nail made a little ‘plink’ noise as it was pounded out of the nail header and into a bucket. Joe let his eyes settle on the glowing bits of metal as he focused on speaking ‘orkish’.

  “Good morning!” he called at last. The words felt gravely in his throat and vibrated his chest on the way out. The effect on the blacksmith was immediate. Her eyes went wide as she fumbled her next blow, causing the red hot iron bar to jump out of her tongs and almost hit her in the leg. “I’m terribly sorry,” Joe said in common. He wanted to vault the table and help her retrieve her dropped stock, but he knew he lacked the athletic ability to complete the maneuver. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” As Joe waited for her to retrieve the still glowing piece of metal, she crossed through his glasses.

  Gretta Thul

  Race: Orc

  Profession: Adventurer-Fighter

  PL:1

  ‘Adventurer’? Joe wondered as Grett recovered her cooling stock and deposited it back into the forge. “Is Miss Fairchild around?” Gretta gave Joe a speculative look before schooling her expression into a practiced customer service smile.

  “She is upstairs with something right now, is there anything I can help you with?” Joe dug around in his hip pouch, eventually producing a folded piece of paper.

  “I had an accident at my chemist shop and needed to replace some glassware.” He held the paper out for Gretta to take. “I’ve made a list of what I’m looking for.”

  “Oh I hope everyone is alright,” Gretta said with a frown as she took the paper and glanced over it. “The flasks shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll need to make them in a separate high temperature batch, but that’s no problem. The distillation tube though,” she raised an eyebrow “I’m not sure we can make one of those. There’s not much call for something that specific. I’ll have to talk to Moira about it.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Talk to me about what?” Joe looked towards the new voice and was stunned. The woman who descended the stairs had the sort of figure that would have had ancient man carving statues of her and worshiping them as a goddess, but that modern man would likely consider too plump for their liking. She wore the same leather pants and sleeveless shirt under her apron as her assistant did. However, where her assistance was tall and lanky she was short and well built. Her short red hair was kept in check by a floral print bandana tucked behind her ears. Her bright green eyes went back and forth between Gretta and Joe, waiting for one of them to answer.

  “This is the new chemist Mr…” Gretta let the question hang and turned to look at Joe, who suddenly realized he’d been staring at the newcomer.

  “Ah, um. Mr. Joseph Alderbright,” Joe stammered, giving the two blacksmiths a small bow.

  “So you’re the new chemist Merrie’s been telling me about,” the newcomer, presumably Moira Fairchild said. She tilted her head to the side and gave him an appraising look. Joe could feel his cheeks flush as she continued to stare. God she’s pretty he thought before feeling instantly guilty for it. “What took you so long to make it to the only glassblower in the city?” The question was without barb and delivered with a small smile that made Joe’s heart flutter without his consent. Steady on there Joe, you just met her and you’re not looking for anything right now besides glassware.

  “I had a small stock of supplies to get me started.” Joe eventually got himself to say. Moira favored him with another small smile and a chuckle.

  “And you’re finally out and need someone to blow you up some more?” Joe could feel his subconscious turn to him and waggle its metaphorical eyebrows. He stomped down on it, even as it scampered away sniggering.

  “Yes, I’ll need more bottles soon.” Joe suddenly felt very fidgety. He crossed his arms over his chest to keep them still. A second later Moira mirrored the gesture, compressing her own chest inside of her leather apron. Stop staring you idiot, Joe chastised himself. “But for now I need more specific chemistry ware. I gave your assistant the list and we were just discussing a few of the items.”

  “It’s mostly just high temp flasks and spirit lamps.” Gretta supplied, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “But he wants a distiller tube too, and that’s not something I thought we could make.”

  “Oh I can do him up one.” Moira said as she glanced over the list. Joe gave his subconscious another glare. “ It won't be cheap though. We’re looking at probably eight bronze for the flasks and lamps and a full silver just for the distiller.” Joe didn’t even try to hide the wince.

  “Well, that’s the cost of doing business,” Joe said with a sigh, “how long do you think it will take to make?”

  “Well,” Moira ran her knuckles along her jawline as she thought. “I don’t have any other commissions out at the moment so you’re top of the queue. Probably two days? I might use it as a learning experience for Gretta.” Behind her the orc in question winced. “Actually tell you what, If you don’t mind having Gretta practice with the distiller, I’ll knock the whole thing down to a silver and a pair of bronze. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Joe said while he watched Gretta’s expression change from a grimace to a look of shock. “Do I pay now or when you’re done?”

  “Commission work is paid for in advance, but if you don’t like the final product I’ll refund you the price. I get to keep the product though, sorry but I can’t afford free samples.” That sounded reasonable to Joe so they shook on it and he passed the money over to Moira to count. Her hands may have been smaller than his, but they were covered in calluses and possessed a grip that could have squeezed blood from a stone.

  Now that he was standing at arm’s length to her, he was able to see the thick muscles that stood out on her arms and shoulders. Next to her, his own arms looked thin and wiry. Briefly he wondered if he should start working out, but decided that he just didn’t have the time for that at the moment. Once she was satisfied that he’d given her the right amount, Moira gave a curt nod and turned back to Joe.

  “Alright, we’ll get started on that right away. Is there anything else that we could do for you?” Joe shook his head.

  “Not at the moment,” he replied, “but I’ll be back soon to put in an order for some bottles.” The memory of the identical square bottles he’d been given popped up and prompted him with the issue he’d had about his starter stock. “Oh actually, I do have a question. Do you do different shaped bottles? My supplier only gave me one type so all my products look the same. I want people to be able to easily tell the difference between the potions and the cleaning products.” Moira tilted her head again and thought for a moment before responding.

  “We’ve got a couple different molds at our disposal. I’ve got rectangle, long neck round, short neck round, true square and triangle.” Joe’s eyebrows knit together.

  “What’s the difference between true square and rectangle?” He asked.

  “True square is a little under half the volume of the rectangular ones. There’s also a little indent in the bottom so they can be stacked on top of eachother.” Moira responded. She looked over her shoulder at the crates lining the back wall. “I’ve probably got one knocking about somewhere if you want to see it.”

  “No it’s ok,” Joe reassured her. “They do sound interesting though. I could put shampoo in one and conditioner in the other and sell them as a pack.” Moira looked back at him, her eyebrows raising as a grudgingly impressed tone entered her voice.

  “That’s actually not a bad idea. It’s one of our least popular options at the moment though, so if you want some I’ll need time to dig out the old molds.” They exchanged a few more pleasantries after that before saying their goodbyes and Joe headed off. Before he did though, Moira favored him with a genuinely warm smile which put an extra spring in his step. It lasted for several blocks before his happiness popped like a balloon, to be replaced by a feeling of guilt and sadness. Although it hadn’t come with him when he’d been transported to this new world, the ghost of his old wedding ring weighed heavily on his hand at that moment. Joe sighed and continued on at a more sedate pace.

  <><><>

  Moira watched the new chemist until his retreating back turned the corner, a thoughtful look on her face. She turned, fully intending to get started on his commissions, when she was brought up short by her assistant’s shit eating grin. “What?” her tone sounded defensive even to herself.

  “He’s cute, isn’t he?” Gretta said, her smile wide enough to expose the silver wire on her teeth. Moira raised an eyebrow at her and she gave a shrug. “Not for me. He looks old enough to be my dad, but I saw you watching his butt as he walked away.”

  “I was thinking about his special order,” Moira growled.

  “Thinking about putting in your own special order you mean,”Gretta teased with a waggling of her eyebrows.

  “You just get back to work before I twist those braces so hard they bend your fangs up your nose.” Moira stomped off to get the glass oven started, clearly done with her assistance ribbing, good natured though it was. For her part, Gretta retrieved the still hot stock from the forge. She gave the cut off end a speculative look, clearly thinking about something else.

  “Did you know he’s fluent in orcish?” She finally said. Moira stopped working the bellows on the oven and looked at her.

  “Isn’t that incredibly difficult to learn?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Gretta set to work, raising her voice so she could still be heard over the sound of the ringing metal. “About the only one who bothers with it anymore is my mother, and she only uses it when I’m in trouble.” The orc chuckled “I just about shit myself when I heard it.”

  <><><>

  Joe didn’t see the crourks again the next night so he assumed that the gnollhound was still lurking around somewhere. His assumption proved correct the following evening when he was out having a smoke after closing up the shop for the day. Joe was engaging in that most wonderful of activities; staring off into space with absolutely nothing going on in his brain, when his meditative mood was shattered by a loud scratching at the rear gate.

  A crourk can fly, so I don’t know why one would go scratching around. A person would knock, but the only people who regularly use the alley are the gnolls and I don’t know what they’d want. Joe narrowed his eyes. Not for the first time he found himself wishing that he kept a weapon on hand. The spellbook he’d bought from the Meadowbrooks did have some offensive spells in it, but they were more along the lines of ‘create a cloud of stinking gas’ and that was something Joe could do on his own.

  He palmed an iron manacoin anyway, hoping that if something did go wrong a Spark spell to the eyes might be enough of a distraction to let him get away. Joe needn’t have worried. When the gate opened he was greeted by the familiar squashed face of the gnollhound. It was impossible for Joe to tell if it was the same one from the other night, but it seemed to regard him with mild recognition, so he guessed that it was.

  “Well hello again stranger. No crourks tonight, although I’m sure you know that since it was probably you that scared them off.” The gnollhound looked him up and down for a moment before pushing past and into the garden. Its shoulder check nearly sent Joe into the nearby wall with its unexpected force. “Geez, make yourself at home you big goober,” Joe muttered, rubbing at his hip. The big goober in question sniffed around in the garden for a moment before zeroing in on Joe’s back door and repeating the same scratching that he had on the gate. Its claws left not insignificant scratches in their wake.

  “Hey! Stop that, ouch!” Joe grabbed at a thick neck roll, only to recoil a second later with a half dozen needle-like bristles stuck into the palm of his hand. They were only about as thick as a cactus spike and hadn’t drawn blood, but they did itch something abominably. He opened the door, if for no other reason than to spare it the onslaught of the gnollhound. Joe could do little more than follow the beast as it stalked around the empty shop on a private mission all its own.

  “You mind telling me what you’re looking for, you giant oaf?” Joe grumbled as he picked at the bristles in his palm. They came out easily enough, but left the terrible itch behind. He happened to have some anti-itch cream out for purchase, so he snagged a jar for himself. “This better not get infected.” The gnollhound descended the stairs to the basement, sniffing at the air as it went. It seemed to find what it was looking for at the mysterious door under the stairs. It knocked away the chair Joe had used to wedge it shut and gave it an experimental push. This time however, Joe was a little more ready to stop him. Joe took his shirt off and threw it over the gnollhounds head and shoulders, effectively folding over the needle-like bristles and allowing Joe to get it in a headlock. Even with the leverage this provided, it was still like trying to pull a stump just to get the great lump to stop scratching at the door.

  “Get away from there you absolute goober!” he snarled. By dint of sheer effort more than physical strength, Joe managed to get the gnollhound to relent. It glared up at him before letting out a single deep woof that rattled Joe’s rib cage. Joe put his hands on his hips and glared back. “I don’t care what you want, you’re not going in there.” It gave him another deep woof before yawning in a passable impression of boredom and stomping back up the stairs. Joe followed a minute later after resetting the chair. When he got to the top of the stairs, he was just in time to see the gnollhound climbing up to his apartment. “And where do you think you’re going?” He yelled after it. It turned to him for a moment before continuing its climb. By the time made it up the stairs it was already hauling itself up into his bed.

  “Hey!” Joe ran over and tried to push the beast off, but it just rolled over and went boneless. He eventually gave up and glared down at the unrepentant mooch. “So do I have a roommate now?” The gnollhound pointedly ignored him. Joe threw his hands into the air and stomped off downstairs once again. He raised his voice as he crossed the shop floor, yelling back up to the creature inhabiting his bed. “But you’re not sleeping in my bed you prickly bastard!”

  <><><>

  Mi’Takal cracked the door open only enough to peer between the door and its frame. “Yes?’ came the tentative reply to Joe's knocking.

  “Hey Mi, sorry to bother you guys so late. Do you have some old blankets for sale?”

  “Oh hello Joe, one second.” She closed the door and Joe could hear the sound of rattling chains as Mi’Takal undid the numerous locks holding the Meadowbrooks door closed. She had explained to him once that, while the Meadowbrooks had never personally had an issue with forced entry, when you weighed as much as a human toddler, you took precautions. “What do you need them for?” She asked as she opened the door a moment later.

  “Well, apparently I’m adopting a dog. The damn thing just came inside when I was having my evening smoke and stole my bed.” Joe gave the kobold a good natured smile as she tittered and disappeared into the depths of the shop.

  “Aw that’s sweet. A dog will be good for you.” Joe tried to track her between the cramped ailes of her store, but the little kobold remained elusive.

  “What, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?” Joe protested with mock indignation.

  “What it means,” Mi’Takal said from right next to his elbow, causing Joe to nearly jump out of his skin. “Is that other than dinner with us, I don’t see you outside your shop often.” She had an armload of blankets that she proffered to him before disappearing back into the depths of the shop. Joe looked over the bundle. They were a pair of rough wool affairs that had clearly seen better days. While being clean and smelling faintly of flowers, they were patched and faded to the point that dog blankets were probably the best use for them.

  “I’m a creature of habit!” Joe called after her.

  “Is that Joe?” Cha’Takal’s voice echoed down from upstairs. A moment later there came the rapid sound of small feet on wooden stairs and the kobold himself popped out from behind the beaded curtain that separated the stairs from the shop floor. Joe caught the exact moment the energetic kobold barreled through the barrier and had his tail feathers snatched by his mate, bringing him to an abrupt and painful looking stop.

  “Cha, my love.” Mi’Takal crooned, although Joe could hear the venom bubbling under the surface. “Were you not watching the hatchlings?” Cha’Takal favored her with a sunny smile, completely unaware of the subtext to her question.

  “Fear not my world! I put them back in their basket and weighted the lid down with the water basin.” He puffed out his tiny chest, apparently proud of himself despite the thunderclouds in his mates eyes. Joe quickly paid for the blankets and left Cha’Takal to his fate.

  <><><>

  The gnollhound, which Joe had decided to call Goober for his sins, was still in Joe’s bed when he got back. Joe’d taken a moment to apply the anti-itch cream and he could already feel it doing a world of good. “Alright you great big sack of shit, get out of my bed.” Joe dumped his bundle on the ground at the foot of his bed and gave Goober a hard shove on his bristle-free rump. The great lump in question initially resisted, but caved after it became apparent that Joe wasn’t going to give up this time. Goober dropped to the ground with a grumble before settling back down on the pile of blankets. Finally victorious, Joe stripped down and climbed into his vacated bed. A moment later he sat up and glared back down at Goober. “Why the hell does my pillow smell like farts?”