17. The Goblin Camp
On the surface, the ruins of the temple of Selûne were full of activity. An entire coalition of goblins and their allies lived in the broken fortress. Every room was filled with activity, and the main chambers were full of voices, the sound of drums, and the smell of roasted meats, stale blood and unwashed bodies.
“Ah, drink it in—that sweet, sweet chaos,” Astor said, stretching his arms wide.
“I didn’t know you were fond of goblins,” Night said with a wry smile.
“I don’t. Filthy little beasts they are,” he replied, wrinkling his nose. “But I do like a good den of debauchery.”
“Must not be so different from vampire dens,” Kal joined in.
Astor was suddenly defensive. “Our homes are much cleaner, thank you very much. We actually bathe.”
Shadowheart, meanwhile, was enjoying the sight. An abandoned temple of Selûne, now the base for an army of dirty monsters. It suits the Moonmaiden, she thought.
Initially, the party had gotten ready to fight. But as they walked around, the goblins they met were respectful—in the way goblins are—bowing to them and calling them True Souls. They seemed to pray to an entity they referred to as ‘the Absolute’.
“Hmm. Which god is called the Absolute?” Astor asked the group in a whisper.
Night shrugged. “None that I know of.”
“Why are we True Souls? Should I be offended?” Kal asked, confused. He bit into roasted meats that the goblins had offered him, holding up a leg in each hand.
Shadowheart grimaced at the smell. “What is that, Kal?”
“Dwarf, I’m pretty sure,” Kal replied thoughtfully. “Want a bite?”
Shadowheart took a step away. “Oh. I’m good.”
The goblin camp was huge, and the party split into two to cover more ground.
Night and Shadowheart stepped into the courtyard of the keep. The sun was warm, and Night choked back a half-sob seeing the sky again.
A chaotic party was in full swing. Huge firepits of rotting wood blazed in central areas, the blackened smoke forming a haze over the entire space. Smaller fires nearby contained roasting racks where goblins were actively cooking meats.
Several wooden tables contained bottles of ale and other alcoholic beverages, no doubt looted from nearby villages. Some goblins even had wares on large blankets, selling a variety of items, also looted. The armor and weapons being sold still had fresh blood streaks. One pair of gloves had the severed hand still attached.
“If ya not buyin’, then git lost, will ya?” the goblin merchant yelled, shooing them away.
There was a makeshift stage nearby, made of wooden planks and stone. On the stage stood a human man, and a crowd had gathered, watching the performer intently. The man had a brown, trimmed beard and wore a dark vest on top of a dirt streaked shirt, with a blue, floppy beret that made him stand out amongst the dirty goblins in rags.
The man was reciting a poem that he was writing in real time. He wore a look of panic.
“Laugh if you dare! Recoil, as you must!
A new age is dawning, with goblins atrust!”
Night laughed under her breath, and then she made eye contact with the man. “Is this your new gig, Volo? I didn’t expect to find you all the way in the Western Heartlands.”
Volo’s eyes lit up. “Nightingale!” Then he dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “You should run while you still can.”
A burly goblin stood up and whacked at Volo with a wooden stick. “You, stick to the program! Lest you want another lashing.”
Volo paled, and he went back to his goblin-themed-poetry impromptu. But he lost his flow, his rhymes faltering, and in anger, the goblins dragged him into the keep.
Shadowheart leaned close to Night. “Is he your friend? Should we be helping him?”
Night smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s survived worse.”
“Do you think the goblins will eat him?”
Night’s smile disappeared. “Ok, let’s get him out.”
They found Volo locked in a wooden cage in one of the side rooms with a goblin lookout. The goblin poked at him through the bars, laughing every time Volo yelped in pain.
Night closed the door. Shadowheart speared the goblin through its head in one motion. They shared a mutual nod, content at their impeccable teamwork.
“My friends, thank you for coming to my rescue,” Volo said with a bow.
Night took the keys from the goblin’s hips and quickly freed Volo from his prison. Then they threw a cloak over him and snuck him out of the goblin camp.
It was still early in the evening, but the three of them looked for a suitable spot nearby to make camp, one that would keep them clear of the goblins wandering the area. They found a clearing between some large rocks and trees, overlooking a valley.
Once they decided on the area, Night cast a Sending spell, materializing a blue-glowing rectangle that hovered in front of her. She spoke to this interface, sending a short message to Astor describing the location of their campsite.
A minute later, she received Astor’s response transcribed on the interface, and then his voice projected into her mind, confirming that he and Kal will meet them at camp. The rectangle dissolved away.
She turned back to Shadowheart and Volo.
“You’re the Volothamp Geddarm? I’ve read some of your books,” Shadowheart said excitedly. She sat on a log, poking at a small campfire.
“I’m happy to hear that, Shadowheart. It warms my heart when my magnificent writing is enjoyed by someone as lovely as you.”
“What are you doing in this area?” Night asked Volo, pointedly ignoring his flirting attempts.
“There is much happening here, Nightingale! I came here to investigate, and perhaps write my findings in a book about the Absolute.”
“What is the Absolute, exactly?” Shadowheart asked.
“I don’t know yet, but it sounds like a new god,” Volo replied. “Isn’t that exciting? A new addition to the Pantheon! And I’m at the forefront of this information. Think of the press release. The interviews!”
Night knew Volo was a well-traveled man who had seen and learned a lot. So she asked him for advice on their tadpole conundrum.
“I unfortunately do not know of any foolproof solution to extracting such a parasite once it already lodged itself in your brain. But I could take a look, if only to thank you for my rescue.”
He attempted to look through Night’s eye. “Hm, I can see nothing. There is a spherical object in the way.”
“…You mean her eye?” Shadowheart asked flatly.
“If we could just remove the blockage temporarily, I could see if I can extract the parasite…” Volo murmured. He dug around his bag and then extracted a long, metal needle, brandishing it. “Perhaps with this?”
“Forget I asked,” Night said with a sigh.
Astor and Kal strolled through the dimmer parts of the goblin keep. The wooden walls soon turned to stone as they descended down stairs that led to the dungeons. The chambers were numerous and spacious, with various goblins at work dissecting bodies and probing prisoners for their own amusement.
Kal soon wandered off.
Astor spent some time talking to the hobgoblin guards and writing down what he’d learned. The monsters seemed more than happy to help him, so Astor asked them to give him any prisoners they no longer needed.
He was halfway into drinking a second dwarf dry when a loud commotion sounded from down the hallway. He wiped blood off his lips as a dragon’s road sounded, and he immediately regretted splitting up from Kal.
Goblins ran away screaming as Astor hurried in the opposite direction. At the end of the corridor, in a spacious stone chamber, a red dragon stood breathing torrents of fire across the room.
Astor wasn’t sure who the attack was aimed at. Before the smoke could clear, Kal had already pounced on his prey. And soon Astor heard the familiar sounds of bones crunching under dragon jaw.
“What the Hells are you doing, Kal?” Astor said sternly. He stood behind Kal who was chewing through a body. A large elven man by the looks of the remains. The dragon’s thick scaled tail thumped in contentment.
Kal swallowed and then turned around. “Oh, hey Astor. The goblins were holding this plump bear prisoner. So I asked if I could have the bear. Shadowheart’s always silently judging my eating of ‘people’ so I thought I would try something different.” He told his story between bites of his meal, bits of flesh and bone flicking out from his mouth as he talked. “But the bear was a druid, and a really tricky one at that too. Anyway, druids are pretty tasty.”
Astor sighed in frustration. He couldn’t blame Kal for his appetite when he was doing the exact same thing down here.
But the attack wasn’t without consequences. A hobgoblin guard walked up to them, a grave expression on its face. “The ladyship wants your presence in her office, right away.”
Astor and Kalsarin walked into a stone dungeon filled with shelves of books and scrolls. Maps and charts of various sizes were pinned to a board at the back wall. A large stone table stood in the center, and a female elf was hunched over and poring over documents.
The woman had white wavy hair and magenta eyes. Her skin was the charcoal ashen tone common amongst drow, covered mostly by a set of dark, plated armor, the icon of a skull engraved in the front. Her long pointed ears twitched as she heard them approach.
She looked up and then stepped out from behind the table to greet them. Her eyes swept over the men. “Who are you to have entered my keep without reporting to me immediately?”
Astor raised an eyebrow. “I am Astor, and this is—“
“I’m Kalsarin. But you can call me Kal.” Kalsarin held his hand eagerly.
The drow ignored his handshake. Instead, she eyed his red hair and yellow, reptilian eyes. “…You must be the dragon from the reports.”
“Yes I am,” Kal replied, nodding. He gestured to his body. “This is a polymorph, or I wouldn’t be able to fit in this room.”
As the woman looked Kal up and down warily, her thoughts connected to his, a cold hand caressing his brain.
His vision went dark, and he was suddenly in a gigantic cavernous city. It was dim, but he saw clearly in shades of grey. He held a short sword with a curved blade, swinging it about wildly as drow warriors and mages rushed about in the midst of battle. A cruel laughter rang from his lips as he pierced enemies with his sword, blood splattering him head to toe.
He came back to his senses, realizing he was laughing out loud. A piercing headache throbbed, but the bloodlust was delicious. He savored the taste of the connection.
The drow was similarly staggering. “You—you’re a True Soul.” She licked her lips and smiled. “Your thoughts…they’re a beautiful haze of blood and gore.”
Kal’s heart skipped a beat. “And your memories…you were in battle.” He explained what he saw.
“Ah, that was Menzoberranzan.” The drow nodded approvingly. “I am Mint, of House Baenre.”
“Oh?” Astor crossed his arms suspiciously. “And what is a drow from the Underdark doing on the surface, leading an army of lowly goblins? Is this a hobby?”
Mint quickly turned to him, wrath clear on her face. “I will not tolerate insolence, faerie. You will talk to me with respect.”
“Ugh,” Astor murmured, scowling, and then he returned his own glare. She’s one of *those—*drow who think they’re above all other elves because that’s the way they’ve been indoctrinated since birth.
Mint turned back to Kal. “I am told you made a mess of my dungeons. Including murdering the druid I held captive.”
Kal’s eyes widened. “I—The goblins said I could have him!”
“Why did you come here?” Mint asked sharply.
Before Astor could stop him, Kal started rambling about how they fell into the Underdark and spent a month wandering around until they finally found a path up that led into this temple. “It must be fate,” Kal finished, giving Mint an unfocused look.
“There are more of you?” Mint asked, struggling to hide her surprise.
“Four of us. The other two made camp somewhere nearby,” Kal said, nodding cheerfully.
“Kal…” Astor warned under his breath, only for Kal to jab his side with his elbow.
“It is fortuitous for the Absolute to send more True Souls my way. This must be our god’s way to aid in the raid.”
“Who are you raiding?” Kal asked.
“The druid lives in a nearby sanctuary where his followers worship a false god,” she explained calmly. Then she smiled. “I intend to destroy it.”
She walked around slowly, taking him in. He stiffened and then blushed as she stalked closer.
Mint gave an amused chuckle. “Unfortunately, you killed my only lead in finding this druid grove. But fortunate we are that you are a dragon, and can survey the skies for me.”
“A druid grove?” Kal raised one arm in the air, as if in volunteer. “I already know where it is!”
“You’ve been?” Mint asked.
“Yes, there’s tiefling refugees from Avernus there,” Kal explained. “And a bunch of adventurers. They welcome everyone.”
“The cowards found refuge among the desperate. Perfect,” she spat, delighted. She tapped her chin in thought.
Behind them, Astor pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience thinning rapidly.
“The Absolute chose well when She chose you, Kalsarin,” Mint said coyly. “You will aid us in the raid. If you know the exact location, show me on this map.”
They moved over to a wide parchment where markings had been drawn of landmarks of the area.
Kalsarin looked at the map in confusion. Then he turned to Astor. “Show her where the grove is on the map.”
Astor clenched his teeth. It might be safer for them if the druids were eliminated, but he hated being ordered around.
Looking up, Astor met Kal’s eyes, seeing that he wore a pleading expression. He sighed and leaned closer, studying the map.
Meanwhile Kal made idle talk with Mint. He tried asking her personal questions, only to be casually dismissed, but he wasn’t disheartened. It only fueled his desire to befriend her more.
“…Are you seeing anyone, Mint?” Kal casually asked, leaning on the stone table. “Romantically, I mean. Who holds your heart?”
Astor stiffened. Oh, he realized. Kal’s smitten. That explains the dragon’s behavior in front of the drow.
“The only love I foster is for the Absolute,” Mint replied confidently. “Is that not the same for you?”
“The Absolute?” Kal asked, tilting his head.
Mint narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Yes. The god of us True Souls.”
“Yes, everything we do is in service of the Absolute,” Astor called out from across the table. He shot Kal a look, hoping Kal would get the hint.
“I don’t—“ Kal began.
Astor talked over him. “I think the grove is here, but it might be more to the west. It’s near a steep bluff on the north side.
Mint strolled over and stood beside Astor, turning her attention to the map. “I see.” She picked up the pencil and made a mark. “Then it must be here.” She looked up at Astor. “You’re not half bad, elf.”
Astor forced a smile.
Kal pushed himself between them. “Yes, my friend Astor is extremely capable.”
They made plans to meet at the grove at highsun the next day. “I will gather a raiding party and move into position. You two will ensure the gate is open for our approach.”
“I don’t need the goblins, Mint. I can raze the entire place by myself.”
Astor’s eye twitched, but he managed to hold back his tongue.
“We’ll see tomorrow,” Mint said. “But do not start the assault until I have given the signal. Failure is not an option.”