20. What Exactly Are We Celebrating?
The thunderstorm had blown over, taking the smoke and fires with it, and the sun had long set. The full moon hung high in the dark sky amongst a river of brilliantly shining stars. The beautiful sight seemed out of place after the brutality that occurred at the grove just hours before.
A large campsite sat in a nearby clearing, where a debauched party hosted by goblins and their allies was in full swing. Lit by crudely strung together torches, the bloodied and dirt-streaked bodies of goblins, worgs, gnolls and bugbears moved around in decadent celebration. Barrels of ale and crates of wine was passed around, and there were tables full of dried and roasted meats, all looted from reserves in the grove.
The party was loud, smelly, and chaotic. With the amount of alcohol present, and the lingering adrenaline and bloodlust from the battle, frequent skirmishes were breaking out. The ground was covered in broken glass, food thrown and wasted, and tables overturned.
Night sat high on the edge of a cliff overlooking the party, her legs dangling, a whole bottle of red wine in her hand. She had cleaned up after the battle, now wearing a fitted purple tunic and brown trousers. She watched the party with distaste, her eyes lazily scanning the scene.
Below her, Volo stood in front of a large campfire, reciting the events of the battle in great, embellished detail to an eager goblin audience, who clapped and danced and screamed their approval.
Nearby, Shadowheart sat perched on a boulder, her limbs wrapped around herself, listening with a bottle of ale and a plate of cheese and cured meats.
Kal’s deep, booming voice startled her from behind. “You look cold, Shadowheart. I got you a blanket.” He held up a clean plaid quilt in brown and green. “Don’t worry, it’s from the grove and not from the goblins.”
Shadowheart wrapped the blanket around herself. “Thank you.”
She looked at Kal, who had scrubbed himself in the nearby lake and he was clean and dry. He sported his best set of clothes, which still had hems frayed from use.
She tilted her head, trying to reconcile the monstrous dragon that devoured all in his path to the disguised man in front of her bringing her a blanket in the cold. She laughed quietly. “So? Are you enjoying yourself?”
“This is fun!” Kal said cheerfully. “I just drank five bugbears into the ground, and had a brawl with two gnolls. But I’m trying my hardest to not get blood on my shirt again.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
“I’m waiting for Mint! She said she’ll come find me after the party.” His yellow eyes glowed faintly with excitement. “This is the best night of my life.”
“I’m happy for you, Kal,” Shadowheart said genuinely.
Kal smiled widely in response. “Thanks. I was worried, you know? About…how I came across. I didn’t want to scare my friends.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Shadowheart said carefully. “But I would prefer it if decisions for the group were made with everyone’s input.”
“I hear you,” Kal replied, holding up a hand. “I’ll try harder.”
“Astor would be ecstatic to hear that,” Shadowheart said, huffing a laugh.
On the other side of the party grounds, a group of goblins laughed and clapped their hands as one of them sat confidently on a log, playing with a blood streaked lute. The monster did not know how to play, but it randomly plucked the strings with a fervor fueled by alcohol, bellowing out words of an impromptu song of bloody victory.
Suddenly, someone stepped in front of the goblin, a shadow cast over the warm torchlight. The goblin looked up to silver curls, glowing red eyes and an angry, menacing snarl.
“The disrespect you are showing that lute…why, I ought to flay for this mockery.” Astor glared down at the goblin with disdain and revulsion. He held out a hand. “Hand it over.”
The goblin’s eyes widened, and then it hiccuped. It pushed the instrument into Astor’s hand, then scurried off the log to take a seat on the ground.
Astor adjusted the collar and cuffs of his shirt before sitting down on the log. The group of goblins leaned in, looking at him expectingly with sparkling eyes.
He plucked a few notes, twisting the tuning pegs. He regarded the lute. It was old and worn, its wood polished to a shine. “Not bad,” he murmured.
He thought for a moment on what to play. Sitting up straighter, he balanced the lute on his right thigh, leaning it on his left shoulder. He started playing, a building, ominous melody. And he began to sing, his voice a deep bass carrying the melody, backed up by notes on the lute and his leg tapping the ground in beat.
It was an upbeat song about defeating his enemies, where he would stand on top of the world.
The goblins around him clapped along enthusiastically, but Astor scowled because they were messing up the beat.
As the powerful melody carried across the party, curious monsters wandered over to listen. The song ended to claps and cheers of encore.
“What is this?” Mint spoke up from the shadows behind Astor, her voice sharp and commanding. “The faerie can play.” She paused. “And is that the lute we looted from the grove?”
“Y-yes, your ladyship,” a goblin replied cautiously. “The tiefling bard wouldn’t let go of it until her last breath. I-it is yours now!”
It tried to grab the lute out of Astor’s hand, but Astor smacked it away with a threatening glare.
Mint snickered in amusement. “Let him have his fun.” She walked into the torchlight, revealing the lyre she was holding. Sitting down beside him on the log, she turned to face him. “Truthfully, I didn’t expect any culture from your little troupe. But as a surface-elf, you have a predisposition for the arts.”
Astor only shrugged in response. He glanced as Mint, who wore a dark, revealing outfit. Her white wavy hair was now free of blood, her magenta eyes bright against her charcoal skin. His eyes settled on her lyre—it was crafted from dark wood with edges made of silver. A red spider was painted on the front.
She followed his gaze. “Spider’s lyre. A beauty isn’t she? A gift from the Absolute.” She plucked a few strings, testing the sound, and then her notes built into a melody. She opened her mouth and sang, a gentleness in her voice that surprised Astor.
“Lace your heart with mine—
Let your sleeping soul take flight—
Take me through the night—
Down, down, down by the river—“
Astor’s eyes alit in recognition. This was a popular song in recent years. He looked at Mint and she smirked at him.
He positioned his lute on his shoulders again, his pale fingers gliding across its strings, playing the accompaniment supporting Mint’s melody. More monsters gathered around.
Kal pushed his way into the front, shoving goblins roughly aside. He waved at them, and Mint gave a curt nod. Her voice continued.
“Take my hand and hold it tight—
‘Cause you and I are everywhere—
The night is young—
We’re goin’ down, down, down by the river—“
Their music drifted up into the air, and Night heard it across the grounds. Her eyes moved from Kal to Mint, landing on Astor, watching him with curiosity, a small smile on her lips. She took a sip of her wine directly from the bottle.
A little while later, as the party started to wind down, Night watched as Mint made her way through the inebriated partygoers. Kal was propped against tree stump, chatting with Volo. Mint approached Kal, standing in front of him with arms crossed.
Night heard Kal squeal and jump to his feet, then Mint took his hand and led him into the forest surrounding the campsite.
Night’s eyes lingered at the edge of the forest before they moved back to the party.
“Don’t you love the silence after a massacre? It’s just so pure.” Astor’s sudden voice behind Night made her jump so hard, she almost dropped her bottle off the cliff. “Oh, sorry. What are you doing here? Not big on festivities?”
“Astor,” Night breathed, catching her breath. Then she gave him a flat look. “And what exactly are we celebrating? Mindless slaughter? A pile of burnt corpses? The pointless deaths of innocents?”
He scoffed. “I didn’t know you held such strong opinions, Night.” Then he shrugged, walking towards the edge. He took a seat beside her. “Well, we can find something worth celebrating, I’m sure.”
“I liked your duet,” she said softly, turning to him. “Where did the lute come from?”
“The goblins looted it from some tiefling,” he explained. “They didn’t let me keep it. I almost got bitten.”
Night laughed brightly. “The first song you chose. It’s odd, isn’t it? Where did you learn it?”
“Some nights I walk by the House of Song in Baldur’s Gate,” Astor explained casually, leaning back on his arms and watching the stars. “The temple to Milil, the Lord of Song. There’s often live street music, with incredibly diverse music, styles I’ve never heard of before.”
“Milil collects songs from across different planes of reality. This is possibly a song from another Crystal Sphere. From outside the Realms.”
Astor’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know that. The perks of being a god, I guess.”
“The multiverse is vast, Astor,” Night explained smugly, one hand sweeping the sky. “Wider than you could ever imagine.”
“Which is exactly why a little bit of bloodshed like today is nothing in the grand scheme of things,” he reasoned, leaning on one arm.
Night nudged him with her elbow. “How’s the party?”
“It’s a drag,” Astor said, shaking his head. “There’s a worm in my brain, I’m surrounded by idiots, and all the wine tastes like vinegar. On top of it all, my little wizard is here drinking the evening away without me.”
She handed Astor the rest of her bottle, and he gladly look it. Tipping it back, he swished it around before swallowing. It was delicious. He read the label suspiciously. “…where did you get this?”
She turned and gave him a mischievous grin. “It’s from my supplies. My favorite label from Waterdeep.”
“You’ve been hiding your wine stash from me? I thought we promised to be honest with each other.” He drank more from the bottle.
Night laughed cheerfully, settling to lean against him.
He looked down at her, seeing her look up at the same moment, and their eyes met. His gaze sharpened, and he leaned in, talking quieter. “Shall we find a more secluded spot to continue our…hang out?” His breath brushed her ear. “See where the night takes us.”
“Oh.” Night arched an eyebrow. “Um. What are you saying? Or wait, what are you not saying?”
“Do I really need to spell this out for you?” Astor gave her a pointed look. “Sex, my dear. A night of passion.”
“Hmm, I don’t know. We barely know each other,” she teased. “Who are you again?”
“Ah, you need a bit of enticing I see.” He tapped his lips and gave her a sly grin.
Then his expression fell to one that was intentionally more open and earnest. He cleared his throat. “When I’m with you, my love, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again with you.”
She huffed a laugh, and shook her head.
“Hmm, let me give it another go,” Astor murmured. “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation, as if the gods made you just to ruin me.” He gestured passionately.
Night giggled, leaning against on his shoulder. “Have these actually worked on people?”
“You’d be surprised,” Astor replied. After a pause, he smiled deviously. “Every time I heard the tieflings cry, I thought about how you’d sound crying for me.”
“Oh gods, Astor. You’re unhinged.” But Night was laughing loudly, patting his leg fiercely.
After her laughter died down, he took her chin and tilted it up to look at him. “How about if I said these little words…everyone’s favorite…” He wore a serious look, his red eyes round and wet. “I love you.”
They held each other’s gaze, Night’s eyes widening. Then she murmured softly, “you’re lying.”
“Ah hah, but a rather beautiful lie, nonetheless. We can pretend it’s true, just for tonight.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap. She didn’t resist.
“Astor…” Night murmured. He glanced at her face. She wore a conflicted frown, blushing heavily. She hiccuped and he smelled the strong scent of wine on her breath.
He moved slightly to look past her, and saw an already empty bottle of red wine beside her. “…how much wine did you drink, Night?”
“Enough.” She looked at him sleepily.
He hesitated, and then dropped his arms. His voice returned to normal, his expression hardening. “Then go sleep, or you’ll be useless when you wake.”
“Hmm.” Leaning her forehead against his shoulders, she tucked her legs into his lap. She was warm against him, her whole body burning. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“We see what we can learn about the Absolute now that Mint trusts us a bit more. She mentioned she has to report to her superiors up north, and if they are all True Souls, then we might learn something if we follow her.”
He looked down and saw Night press her cheek onto his chest. “Are you sleeping on me?” he asked, amused.
“Your body is cold, Astor,” she said, her voice muffled. “This feels nice.”
He laughed softly, turning his gaze to the goblin party below.