After lunch, most people went their own way, but several approached the blacksmith with requests. Griffrod and I tried going our own way as well, but had a surprise encounter with the elves. They introduced themselves and were cordial in their demeanor, treating me as an equal. They were polite to Griffrod but were more interested in the vague visions Pelor had sent me. I did not seem to be much help, but they warned me against using sun spells.
“Small gnomes turn to stone in the sun. I know it can harm werewolves as well, but be mindful of how you use it while around gnomes, cleric. You could blind or cripple an innocent,” said Allandria. The two elves with her stood at her sides, vigilant, quiet and protective.
“Thank you for the warning, I didn’t know that. I’ve seen plenty of gnomes out in the world during the day. I was wondering why Glitterfalls was a nocturnal city.”
“Yes, the smallest of them can’t stay in the sun. I’m vaguely familiar with the lore, but it has something to do with a god being jealous of Garl Glittergold’s friendship with Pelor. In case you didn’t know, these talismans allow us to send messages to one another. They can be written or vocal. Let us gather and venture into the forest together when it is time. I will send word.” Allandria held the talisman in front of her.
“I would be honored. I’ve never hunted monsters with royalty.”
“I’m sure that together, we will bring an end to this quickly.”
With only two weeks to find the gnomes hiding in the forest, that first day was the only day we had to prepare and coordinate. Everyone moved with haste and purpose, fully aware of the situation and preparing accordingly. Additionally, over the course of the day, people learned the capabilities of the talismans and I was flooded with tiny dings, my talisman repeatedly lighting up. I tapped on it and it floated in front of me. Every time I would see a scroll with a numbered ball of light next to it, but nothing more.
“Do you have a little light on yours like this?” I asked Griffrod, who checked and confirmed he did not. I tapped on the scroll and a long list of scrolls appeared before me with names and a caption.
Need anything crafted, Cleric? From Alfar.
Hey sun guy! You said you heal? From Brutus. The name was unfamiliar.
Let’s have a battle strategy meeting at breakfast. From Allandria.
There were a dozen more messages from other adventurers, but they held no interest for me. They had little or nothing to offer me, and a few were looking for a pocket healer while offering me nothing in exchange. The few I responded to besides Alfar and Allandra were those who asked for a blessing.
“So you’re telling me those are messages from other people?” Griffrod asked. When I confirmed, he leaned in to glance at my grid of scrolls and checked his again. There was still no light for him. “Bah. No one around here has any taste.”
“This is quite frustrating. I assure you, you do not want this kind of attention.”
“Aye, I don’t think I’d mind just a bit,” he huffed.
We slept through the day in line with the gnomish schedule, but when evening returned, everyone was poised for what was to come. Before breakfast I stood at the entrance and gave blessings from Pelor to all who wanted one. Some who had not messaged me asked for a blessing since I was there.
Breakfast was not as festive as the night before. Everyone arrived fully geared and ready for battle, eating with their minds focused on the task ahead. We could be out in the forest for days at a time before returning, or the entire two weeks until the full moon. At least if that were to happen, the people of the city would hopefully be spared.
Griffrod and I ate with Allandria and her companions, Manalar and Liara, discussing a group battle strategy while we ate. Alfar found us and brought me a silver short sword I had requested. I clipped the sheathe to my belt and offered him a seat with our group, which he was more than happy to accept.
On our way out, we were handed small bags of holding with supplies and the queen serenaded us with a song. I could feel the energy coursing through my body. We were a small army of mercenaries marching through the streets of Glitterfalls, led by Prince Whizzlefizz and Prince Pluffle with a battalion of royal guards. Princess Floramore came along to maintain everyone’s sizes. The people of Glitterfalls lined the streets and rained down sparkles of light from above, wishing us luck and thanking us.
The forest was dark, and after the first few nights yielded no results, some began to worry. On the fourth night, the gods smiled upon us when we encountered a hut in the woods. The hovel belonged to a reclusive gnome who took in others he had been attacked on a full moon. Once they returned to being gnomes, they did not want to show their faces in the city and he opened his home to them.
Three gnomes emerged from the small home, built partially into the ground. Cooperative and in anguish, they did not want to be weregnomes and hoped the royals could help. That was when Allandria stepped forward.
“Prince Pluffle, we brought potions with us to cure lycanthropy. I don’t know how it differs in gnomes, but we could try it. My priestess can detect the sickness within.”
“It’s worth a try,” said Prince Pluffle.
Allandria gave one of the gnomes the potion and he drank it with zest. He took a deep breath and fidgeted in place. Squinting, he looked around waiting for something to happen until he noticed everyone was looking at the priestess.
“It doesn’t seem to have had any effect,” she said.
“Are you sure? None at all?” Allandria’s wide eyes bounced between the gnome and her priestess. “Try again.”
The priestess silently cast her spell once more, but to no avail. Allandria herself stepped in front of the gnome and cast a spell to detect magic.
“I sense lycanthropy, but no sign of the potion. What madness is this?”
“Weregnomes are extremely resistant to magic, Princess,” said Pluffle.
“But he’s not a weregnome right now,” Allandria insisted.
With a sigh, Pluffle shook his head. “Gnomes are magical creatures. The smaller we are, the more magical. A magical disease that changes what you are affects us in incredible, and terrible ways. Even though you are an elf, I do not expect an outsider to understand. He is and always will be a weregnome, but he will only transform under the light of a full moon.”
“So, what are we to do?” Allandria asked.
“Guards,” Prince Pluffle turned to a pair of guards standing near the princess. “Please go for a walk with Princess Floramore and return in a half hour.”
The guards escorted the princess away. Her head tucked down, she knew what was coming. She was royalty, after all, and had not been left in the dark.
“I had hoped that perhaps your cure would work when my father told me about it. Alas, if it did not, this expedition always had a single purpose,” said prince Whizzlefizz.
The reclusive gnome and the other two jumped up to flee. The gnome guards and some mercenaries ran after the other two, but the recluse was in the middle of the group and did not make it far. One of the royal guards ran him through the gut with a sword. Not being gnomes, the mercenaries caught up to the other two and dragged them back to the group. They tossed the whimpering, struggling gnomes on the ground before Prince Pluffle.
Tears coursing down their cheeks, the two gnomes in their dirty, mottled hats and clothing trembled with their faces in the dirt. They shook their heads and bawled.
“I don’t want to die! I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to hurt anyone!” One cried.
“Please, my prince! Surely, Lightimus can find a cure! Please spare us! We didn’t choose to be infected.”
“I’m sorry, but there is no cure for weregnomes. If I let you live, you would become an existential threat to gnomes around the world. Before long, we would all be weregnomes. I would not only be failing Glitterfalls and its people, but our species.”
One of the crying gnomes slowed his trembling breaths and rose to his knees, wiping his bulbous nose. All gnomes had rosy cheeks, but his whole face was extra bright. His big, round eyes looked back at the prince with despair, and the prince looked into his eyes with regret and compassion.
“I’m sorry. I do not want this to be, but it must be.”
“I understand,” said the gnome sitting on his heels. The other gnome sat up and looked at him, flabbergasted. From sadness to determination, the gnome looked back at him and said, “I will not be the one to curse our people.”
The other gnome looked back to the ground then pounded his head against it sobbing. He shook his head and clenched his teeth. “My wife… my children…”
“We will make sure they know you died a heroic death of your own volition. They will not think less of you. The crown will ensure they are cared for.”
A royal guard hurried next to the prince with a small booklet and a quill. The gnomes gave him their names and the second gnome rose to his knees, eyes still closed. His face scrunched as he held back tears.
“Please tell them I love them… I love them so much. I wish I could see them again,” the gnome cried.
Nobody said anything. Prince Pluffle assured them their families will know their last words and be cared for, and then said a prayer to Garl Glittergold. Two guards moved to stand at their sides, but Prince Whizzlefizz stopped them.
“Hold. Move aside. Before we ask anyone else to execute our citizens, we will do it ourselves.”
Taking their places next to each gnome, the princes raised their swords and removed the gnomes’ heads from their bodies. The reclusive gnome who was run through also had his head removed before the three were buried with commemorative gravestones nearby.
The zest and zeal that had formerly filled the group vanished after that. We were not there to hunt monsters, we were there to kill gnomes; innocent gnomes who had not chosen to become weregnomes, but had been dealt a bad hand. We moved on, but our hearts did not.