Gruntle''s flail clattered as he took it from his belt.
"What are you doing?" Al asked.
"Killing?"
"We don''t even know who this is! We might not need to hurt anyone!"
Gruntle huffed, then yawned.
"Sure, but if we''re obviously prepared to do more violence than whoever is down there, it''ll give us a negotiating advantage, right?" Wikwocket argued, unclipping BiteySue and drawing her ghost-stabbing dagger.
Bote shrugged, and hefted their hammer.
Al sighed with resignation and pulled Purgatio from its sheath. "Fine, but can we at least keep things calm unless we have to fight?"
"Don''t worry, we''re paragons of subtlety! Come on, Gruntle!"
Al had to admit they were at least quiet as they descended the steps to the next door. Wikwocket got down on the ground to try to peek under the door while Gruntle pressed his ears close to listen. Al wondered if that actually helped in this situation - even Al could hear the vigorous sweeping sounds. Another breaking-glass sound came through the door as Al went down the steps as quietly as he could.
"I can see a broom. Whoever''s using it is working really hard at it," Wikwocket described from the floor. "I can''t see who it is, though."
Gruntle grinned and crouched to barge through the door, but Wikwocket stood up and shook her head.
"This isn''t a situation for us to just charge in and start fighting immediately," she said gently. She gave Al a wink, and calmly lifted the door''s latch. She took a deep breath.
She kicked the door open. "Hold it right there, vandal!" she shouted.
Al tried to make sense of what he saw. The room beyond was an experimental laboratory of some sort. A table with potion-bottles occupied the center of the room, and a row of rat-cages sat on shelves across the opposite wall. A desk with a collection of papers and writing supplies was in the corner. From somewhere beyond a door in another wall, someone was loudly playing a lute.
That much was reasonably familiar, but there was also a robed figure with a broom and feather-duster. The robed figure was just tossing a glass water-bottle to the floor and upending one of the potion bottles into a cage as the door opened. The broom whirled madly about the room stirring up dust and the feather duster flew across the desk, knocking papers to the floor and spilling a bottle of ink. It took Al a moment to realize the "robed figure" was also headless.
And footless. And handless and bodiless as well, Al saw as it rotated in the air to "face" the adventurers.
The flying robe, broom, and feather duster shot through the air towards the intruding adventurers and were met by the the gnoll who rushed in with flail already swinging. Bote was already beginning a short and now-familiar prayer for favorable divine attention for
The feather duster zipped swiftly across the room and bounced off of the gnoll''s head. With an angry snarl, Gruntle swung and his flail swatted the aggressive feather-duster tumbling across the room before it could right itself. The broom spun to smack Gruntle in the head, only to bounce off of his deftly-moved shield. Thus occupied, the flying empty robes flowed behind him and wrapped its sleeves tightly around his neck.
"Hey, Al, they''re all flammable!" shouted Wikwocket, rushing around her gnollish buddy to stab at the murderous clothing that was trying to strangle him.
"I can''t just throw fire everywhere! You''re too close!" Al complained back. Despite this, he decided he''d be more effective taking Wikwocket''s advice, conjuring a small ball of fire at the one foe that was not immediately next to anyone he didn''t want to burn. He wasn''t sure if he was helping or not as the burst of flame turned the feather duster into an angry fiery comet which arced away from its gnoll-targeting flightpath to aim for himself instead. The amount of magic-working he''d been doing all day was beginning to fray Al''s mind at the edges,but his trusty magical barrier popped into existence at his command and bounced the burning feather-duster away in a graceful arc traced by glowing embers and smoke.
A bright spark and a loud crack! like miniature thunder came from one of the rat-cages across the room with a recently-emptied potion-bottle stuck through its bars. The flash of lightning burst through the bars, leaving a hole for a sparking rat to crawl out through. Al suppressed his habitual urge to look accusingly up at the ceiling as he needed his attention to defend himself. He swung Purgatio at the burning feather-duster as it shot at him again, but it swiftly dodged around his inexpert swordsmanship and punched him hard in the chest. Al gritted his teeth and slapped at the shower of embers that sprinkled his robes around the soot-mark of the impact.
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Gruntle dropped his flail and grabbed the strangling robes. He tore them away from his neck and held them away from him as his other hand punched his shield at the broom as it swung again at his head. At Bote''s invocation, a flash of divine radiance shone down from the ceiling onto the broom to evaporate a bit of the unnatural animating magic from it, while Wikwocket stabbed BiteySue through the fabric of the robe and slashed downward, leaving a long vicious cut.
Flashes of tiny lightning came from another of the cages and one more rodent squeezed themselves through the twisted metal bars. The rat that was already loose squeaked a bolt of lightning of its own in the direction of the desk that it was scurrying under. The effect seemed to startle it as it jumped back for a moment, but it resumed its rush to safety and disappeared under the desk.
Very little remained of actual feathers as they burned up, but the feather-duster circled around and past Al''s guard to strike him again in the chest. It seemed to almost be taunting him as it dodged precisely around Al''s sword-swing. Gruntle sunk his teeth into the cloth of the struggling robe as it twisted and reached down to wrap its sleeves around Wikwocket''s neck. The gnoll ripped away a wide strip of cloth like a predator tearing meat away from a kill, but this gave the broom an opportunity to smack him in the side of the head. Her eyes bulging as the cloth sleeves strangled her with unnatural strength, Wikwocket stabbed BiteySue into the armpit of the robe and slashed sideways, cutting the sleeve open entirely. More punishing radiance shone down on the broom from the cieling.
A series of tiny bolts of lightning flashed, one from underneath the desk, one from the corner of the shelf where an escaped rat was looking nervously at the fight across the room, and a third from yet another cage. Gruntle and Wikwocket both yelped, and dodged desperately as the crossfire of lightning from the two rats danced around their feet and bodies. Wikwocket took a gasping breath of air as the robes they were fighting released her. The now shredded and cloth twitched violently as the lightning arced through it as well and then slumped to the floor in a smouldering heap. The rat on the shelf scurried for cover behind the cages, where yet another was making a bid for freedom through scorched and bent metal bars. Al growled in exasperation at the increasingly absurd and dangerous situation but could spare no attention to anything but defending himself. He grasped Purgatio in both hands and concentrated on the smoking feather-duster as it aimed for him again.
As if to mock him one last time, the charred wooden handle of the feather-duster bounced harmlessly off the middle of Al''s chest, nothing more than lightly-smoking stubs left of the feathers. He chopped down onto the wooden handle, splitting it in two just to be certain it was "dead".
The broom swung again at the gnoll, who turned his head to clamp his teeth deeply into the handle where the bristles were fastened. Wood splintered as teeth sank in. A clump of bristles remained clamped in Gruntle''s teeth as the broom pulled itself loose again.
More lightning flashed around the room. A bolt from somewhere behind the cages ripped through the entire row, and several more frightened, squeaking rats fled their cages and scurried into corners and under the shelves and desk. The commotion startled one who had leapt onto the top of the desk, who squeaked a bolt of lightning in Al''s direction. It passed through him and continued to Bote, who yelled at the unexpected pain. Al had to agree with Bote, lightning hurt.
This needs to end, before we get killed, Al thought. With one last great mental effort, he threw as much intent as he could concentrate on into abstract magical violence. Four shimmering shafts manifested themselves around him and struck the supernaturally-animated broom. It shuddered and fell to the floor with a clatter, and Al retreated back out into the staircase with Bote.
"Get out of there before those rats fry us all!" Al called out. Wikwocket hastened to take Al''s advice, but Gruntle hesitated.
"Snacks," he complained, looking around the room where skittering and squeaking of hiding rats could be heard.
"Later, come on!"
With a disappointed huff, Gruntle picked his flail back up from the floor and loped to the stairway with the others. Al pulled the door shut, and for a moment they all just stood there panting for breath. Aside from some quiet squeaking and the muffled sounds of a loudly-playing lute somewhere beyond, no further sound came from the laboratory behind the door.
"Did we win?" Wikwocket finally asked. A startled squeak and a crack of lightning answered her, shaking the wooden door as it was struck from the other side.
"The robes were replacing the water bottles with potion bottles," Al observed.
"There are potions that make you spit lightning?" Wikwocket asked in wonder. "I want some!"
"Apparently," Al answered, dreading that Wikwocket was aware of this now. "The real question is why, though."
"Wasn''t replacing the rats'' water bottles one of the chores on that list? Maybe they were trying to help!"
"Maybe, but why attack us if they were trying to help?"
"Maybe they don''t like being interrupted?"
"Maybe. So, what do we do about this? Hopefully they didn''t beat the apprentice to death before going on their helpful rampage of cleaning, but it''s probably best that we find him quickly. I''m about done, though. My whole body feels numb and tingly from the lightning and I don''t think I can manage any more serious magic-work. Anybody have any great ideas for how we get through the rat-cage room and through the next door without rats running around zapping us?"
"Snacks," Gruntle suggested, pointing at the door.
"What about the lightning," Al reminded him.
"Spicy snacks," Gruntle insisted, and pushed the door open again. Frightened squeaking and scurrying erupted around the room as the always-hungry gnoll rushed back inside. Al winced and waited for more lightning. He was surprised and relieved when no more appeared. He peeked inside to see Gruntle hanging his flail back on his belt and shifting his shield back to his shoulder, then diving to reach quickly under the desk. He stood backup clutching a rat which struggled and bit his hand.
He bit it back, and swallowed both halves of it.
Al stepped back into the room and regarded the other door. It was clad completely in iron and looked heavy. The words INCINERATOR and CAUTION: FIRE IS HOT were engraved on the metal.
The incessant loud playing of a lute continued from somewhere on the otherside. Listening carefully, Al thought he could hear some crackling flames as well. He crossed the room and carefully put his hand near, and then on, the door. It was warm, but not hot.
"Someone else can open this one while I stand out of the way," Al declared.