Let us open the goblin bard door first. Kyrax recommends.
Pontia nods brusquely. "One is the same as another."
Mirandix has no input on this one.
Noya has no input either.
Kyrax looks impatiently at the door behind which the goblin sings.
"Don't look at me, I just signed on and barely know where I am," Bydar admits.
Arma nods to Kezzat... "Then I hope he leaves peacefully like Gammer then."
Arma seeing no objections to the planned choice of door agrees. "Very well... Let us proceed. This door should do well enough."
Zhu nods in agreement - or rather the orc's head does. "I will stay in this shape for a moment longer -- in case this is yet another trap. "
You press the unholy symbol of Lamashtu, mother of monsters, into the indentation. From within the door, you hear a series of snapping and clicking noises and the grinding of gears. The oakwood trembles, and you get the very strong feeling that the wood is, if not an illusion, then a very thin veneer over something far more complex...
Heavier gears grind away inside the wall, and the door swings open before you, revealing a room that appears to be an unholy combination of a shrine to the vile mother of abominations and a wine cellar of some sort. Big barrels lie side by side, ready to have their spigots knocked out. Racks of bottles, covered in dust, await. Blasphemous paintings of Lamashtu's works are splattered over the walls in ochre, purple - and lots of red. At the far end of the room, there is another door, set behind an altar upon which sits a big, claywork bowl.
Sitting in front of the altar is a bedraggled-looking, very drunk, and completely naked Goblin. The greenskinned creature is sitting in a pool of clear liquid, and its skin is sopping wet. A single step into the room, and you can smell exactly what this liquid is; the Goblin has doused itself in gin!
When you walk in, Blikbek the Bard stops singing and blinks owlishly at you all. Then... he just shrugs and takes a healthy slug from a bottle of wine.
"G'day to you, longsh... *hiccup* ... longshanks. Welcome to the temple of Lamashtu in... Well, in here. See you got past Grinner, anyway. Good old Grinner Grim, he deserved better than he -- Oh, hi Kezzat."
Blikbek bestows a sickly grin on Kezzat.
"Not eaten, then? Good, good. I always liked you. Would've been happy to put a little shrieker in the cage together. But... you know... Bangu-Bangu is boss, so... Yeah."
Blikbek brightens up and starts chattering in his native language:.
Blikbek puts the bottle to his mouth and starts chugging the wine as though it's water...!
was this guy always such a drunk or so callous with his own health and safety? is this unusual behavior?
Arma looks around the room scanning the place over. But she makes no move to enter the room. The potent smell of the gin making her wonder just how much alcohol is in those spirits. This has her eyes trying to identify fire sources perhaps already lit about.
Having heard his words her tone when she speaks aloud is concerned but only slightly.
"Is he a friend Lady Kezzat? Should we be worried about Sir Blikbek?"
Zhu, still in the form of the orc, walks up to the drunken goblin and says, "And where is Bangu-Bangu now? I must speak with him -- NOW."
Robert stands ready for any action, rapier in one hand a chakhram in the other. But he leaves the orc for the others. He looks around, looking for clues or messages. He can read Goblin, and hopes to find anything that may give them a clue.
Look as Robert might, he does not spot any writings; possibly because Goblins consider reading and writing to be horrible abominations which suck the words out of your head!
There is something about the earthenware bowl atop the altar, though. It appears to be full of a clear liquid - and something sparkles at the bottom.
Blikbek does not appear to be very intimidated by Zhu. He just shrugs and replies, calm as anything.
"He went through the door in the other shrine," Blikbek says, shrugging. "Heh. A door in a door. If you want him, go further up, I guess. Don't recommend the white shrine, though. Grinner and I managed to make it out, but we were ruined. The others didn't even make it out. Except Bangu-Bangu and that human snot who came after."
Blikbek shakes his ears, causing his ears to flop and droplets of gin to fly left and right.
"Something wrong with those two, if you ask me," he says conspiratorially. "But meh, I'm ruined, so what do I care?"
The Goblin casts a beaming smile on Kezzat. "Now then, my beauty! Will you kill me, or will it be one of your longshank friends? I'm not getting any deader on my own, hee hee hee! Except if you count old age and that" -- abruptly, Blikbek's cheerful face twists into a mask of soul-crushing misery -- "that is just too slow."
The Goblin gulps down the rest of the bottle of wine and visibly forces his expression back into a smile. He throws the bottle carelessly behind him and reaches for a new one, wrenching out the cork with his teeth.
"Right, folks!" he says in a chipper tone. "Who'll it be? C'mon, I'm an icky little Goblin! Better stab me for my... uh..." Blikbek looks down on his naked, gin-soaked body and gives you all a lopsided grin. "Heh, this is a bit embarrassing. No stuff for you to steal from my corpse! But hey, I'm an icky little Goblin and you longshanks love killing us, right? I mean, I wasted perfectly good gin to scrub the feeling of that horrible place from my skin..."
Blikbek starts to quiver, his grin sliding off his face like water. His eyes grow huge and terrified and he gibbers in clear terror as he starts to rub his arms. From this close up, you can see the Goblin has rubbed his skin raw in several places already.
Mirandix looks at the goblin very strangely, he had thought he was hallucinating earlier, and the ear incident further convinced him he was slipping, but now he is sure. He can understand the little creature. He speaks to it, not realizing he is speaking in the goblin tongue.
Blikbek blinks at Mirandix - and starts to giggle, tears running from his eyes.
Tears continue to spill from the Goblin's eyes, but he smiles. He smiles so widely that the corners of his mouth crack and blood starts to spill down his jaw.
Blikbek starts rubbing his thin arms, his toastrack chest, his legs. The gin must sting his raw skin, but he continues to rub... and rub... and rub, until there is blood dripping from more than his hideous smile.
"Can anyone translate for the rest of us?" Bydar says curiously as he looks, without touching, at the religious set up here. He tries to recall what he knows of Lamashtu beyond the basics.
Lamashtu has the rare distinction of being one of very few deities to have gotten away with stealing from Asmodeus, as she took the four Barghest hero-gods of the Goblins out of his kennels and gave them freedom from his reign -- provided they served her. Presumably, they prefer her reign to that of the prince of lies.
Apart from all the booze around here and the lack of freshly-slain sacrificial victims and old, unremoved gore, this looks like a fairly typical shrine of the Mother of Monsters.
Mirandix has a confused and slightly disturbed look on his face, and he glances aside at Bydar, "Apparently I can, Bydar. The best I can figure out, in a place this goblin refers to as 'the white shrine', someone who he refers to as the 'Soul-Eater' and the 'Dark Lady', who is not Lamashtu, did something to the rest of the goblins and only the one I slew, this one, and the one called Bangu-Bangu survived. This Blikbek is apparently terrified to either live or die because Lamashtu and the 'Hero-Gods' will not welcome him. He is afraid of what comes after, but feels he cannot go on living. Do you know anything of the gods that can help him, Bydar? No creature should fear what comes after death."
He turns back to Blikbek, speaking in the goblin's own tongue again.
Mirandix is profoundly disturbed by the effect this 'white shrine' has had on Blikbek, which is compelling him to act in a much more compassionate manner than he normally does. His behavior is very unusual for him.
"Suddenly you speak goblin? You ah, didn't happen to drink anything funny did you? The waters of Lamashtu can really mess you up, kill you, deform your children...other not so fun things," Bydar wonders about that, but then goes onto the more important matter, "Pharasma is the goddess of destiny, birth, and death. Tell him that if he wishes to begin to worship her, he may find that she has other plans than he thinks. She is neither kind, nor cruel. However, as he is alive, he still has time to make a better path until his true fate does take him from life. Then, he will find himself before her for judgment in the boneyard, and from there, his soul may go to her place of choosing. Pharasma takes in all, though all do not like where she places them."
His tone is a mix of pragmatic and soothing, and aimed at the goblin since he doubts the goblin speaks his tongue, and he shows the holy symbol of his goddess.
Pontia ponders Mirandix' translation. I really need to study some applied theology. Of course it becomes important when I lack access to a research library. "Bydar, do you know who this 'Dark Lady' might be?"
Mirandix watches Blikbek, feeling the odd sensation of caring about the suffering of another creature for the first time, and hoping that Bydar's words can help Blikbek.
Blikbek dully looks down at his raw skin and slowly lifts his hands, looking at the blood on them.
"Well," he says, his voice empty and lifeless. "There's a thing. Never even noticed."
The Goblin pulls his knees up against his chest, folds his arms around them and sits rocking in place, his eyes fixed on the middle distance while tears continue to roll down his face.
"Goblins know Pharasma," he says. "All know Pharasma. Bone Lady. Grave Lady. Birth Lady. Yes. All know Pharasma.
But the Soul-Eater. She said she would have us when we died. She put her taint-mark on us. Oh. Oh. She put her mark on us all. Most died in place, biting their tongues till they could drown on their own blood. Bangu-Bangu just walked to her altar, drank her waters, got the key. Grinner Grim and I, we managed to run... limp... stagger out. Oh. Oh.
My friend Grinner Grim, my good, dear friend Grinner Grim. So strong. We tried to drink the waters of Lamashtu, but we could not even touch it. And I am now too weak to go from here. Grinner Grim, my good, proud friend, he said he would find death in combat, try to make whoever he found angry enough to kill me. Such is the nature of a true friend. But you have not killed me, longshanks. Even pretty Kezzat has not killed me. Oh. Oh.
You think Pharasma can take the taint-mark from my soul, longshank priest? I do not know how to do it. I cannot see beyond that horrible light in the white shrine, the soul-killing light.
I told the longshank who came after, I told him 'better to try the waters of Lamashtu', but he spat at me and walked into the white shrine. I heard him scream, but I heard the big door in there slam again, just as it slammed when Bangu-Bangu went through. So he must have gotten through. He is not ruined like Grinner and me, the longshank snot, he is damned like Bangu-Bangu."
There is something singularly unnerving about a Goblin using the word 'damned' in such a flat, certain tone. There is no boast, no taunt, no gloating. Just the cold, grey certainty of despair.
Robert is more disturbed by Blikbek's speech than he would ever have thought. He avoids looking in his direction overtly, only sometimes taking the occasional look in Mirandix's direction.
He stays away from the conversation, but takes his mental notes.
Then he says to no one in particular:
"It seems we have to go to that white shrine. What will be the nature of this Soul-Eater and how can we protect against it?"
He looks at the bowl on the altar, but is careful not to touch it. If that is Lamashtu water then he wants nothing to do with it. But can he understand what is sparkling there?
Lying on the bottom of the claywork bowl is a key.
Set in the door behind the altar is a keyhole.
Robert can easily see that the key probably fits the lock in the door behind the altar, but even as he looks at the key, the clear liquid starts to gently fizz and steam. An odour wafts from the bowl and fills the whole shrine, now the scent of fresh gore, now the smell of lilies rotting on a grave, now the stink of old rot, now the scent of attar.
Blikbek looks over his shoulder and smiles mirthlessly at Robert.
"Lucky boy, you. The Mother does not disdain your soul, oh no. You may drink her Waters to claim the key and get out of here. Or you go to the white shrine and see if she who is there will let you drink or just end you where you stand.
Lucky, lucky longshanks boy. So many choices, wheee~!"
Shivering, the Goblin lifts his new bottle, puts it to his mouth and starts to chug down the red wine.
Bydar listens to the question about the dark lady, and even more intently to the talk of being damned by the goblin, "Well, dungpuddles. My goddess is strong little goblin, even the very god of humanity stood before her judging throne, so if any can free you, she can, but she works through tools, and sometimes her clerics such as myself are her tools. Perhaps the power of this white shrine must be undone by mortal hands before my goddesses' power can help you find release."
He looks to his compatriots. "Obviously, I think Robert is onto something. Frankly, I don't suggest drinking the waters of Lamashtu myself, it can be death, or insanity, or cause hideous mutation. That said, the goblins clearly think it helps against this white shrine so the choice is yours. Me, I'll stay loyal to my own goddess, thanks, and take my chances."
"And this 'dark goddess'isn't ringing a bell, which is embarrassing."
"You silly," Blikbek giggles. "Undo shrine? So silly. Not if you want to see Bangu-Bangu, and for that you need to go up. You really not know where you stand? Two shrines is one door. Last Wizard-door. Much power. Much expense. Big Wizarding-guild in Katapesh. Bangu-Bangu says so. Xorshak tells him so. One door, two panels, same road beyond. Undo either shrine, undo both shrine, and door closes. Locked. Kaput. Pft. Gone. All panels shut. Such is trap. First door is trap of humility. Second door is trap of knowledge. Third door is trap of choice. You drink one water, choose which goddess gets to look at your soul and show her soul to you. Maybe live. Maybe not."
Arma looks at the apparently demented Goblin through her visor and speaks her questions to him aloud but obviously suspicious.
"This seems so ritualistic... But why Sir Blikbek? Is this what Xorshak wants? Part of his plans perhaps? To use us in some way? How did he get past without doing such?"
"Xorshak teaches Bangu-Bangu the Soul-Eater, long ago," Blikbek says, shaking his head. "Maybe he goes through white shrine, no worries. Maybe he has outside door. Wizard flies on ugly bird-lion. Why not? Why not. Why not... What I know of Wizard's plans? Bangu-Bangu and him, they best buddies. Then no more. Wizard takes something Bangu-Bangu wants. Don't know what."
Kezzat seems lost in thought, whispering words to herself. She draws the knife she recently acquired and walks across the room toward her friend.
"Poor broken Blikbek... I find Bangu Bangu. I find him and make him sing the hurting songs." she pats the other goblin on the head, and starts to raise the blade, but hesitates, glancing to the side and hissing quietly.
"I helping him."
Bydar moves to Kezzat, and hisses himself, "what are you doing? If his soul is truly bound to another, you're not helping him, you're just sending him into his eternal captivity that much sooner."
Mirandix seems frozen by the horrible tableau playing out in front of him.
Having heard what Blikbek has said Arma doesn't know what to think of how they will proceed. But as she watches the scene between Kezzat, Blikbek and Bydar unfold she looks to the priest.
"Can you save him then Sir Bydar?"
Zhu's orcish features melt back into his normal Tian ones. "No need to maintain the disguise for THIS sad creature," he says. He regards the bowl of foul water and then looks back at his companions. "I know little of Lamashtu, but enough to know that drinking this water will likely result in death, or worse. This white shrine -- whatever it is -- seems our only choice."
Having heard what Blikbek has said Arma doesn't know what to think of how they will proceed. But as she watches the scene between Kezzat, Blikbek and Bydar unfold she looks to the priest.
"Can you save him then Sir Bydar?"
"I don't know, but I do know that if we don't even try, then he's surely damned. If we do try, he maybe damned and we might die. But yet I think trying is worth while, and may serve greater things as well."
Bydar looks troubled.
"Drink here, drink there. Same setup. White door for white shrine. Oak door Lamashtu shrine," Blikbek sighs. He leans against Kezzat, heedless of her weapon. "Only death and damnation in white shrine. Lamashtu even hates it, and she loves abominations."
Kezzat drops the dagger and cradles Blikbek's oversized head in her arms.
"Poor broken Blikbek," she coos. As much as a Goblin can coo. Which is to say, it sounds kind of like someone strangling a weasel. While stabbing it.
Come now Blikbek. Kyrax encourages. Its not all that bad. I say all you need is a purpose. Join up with us and help save the world. We already have one goblin in the group. Two is twice as much goblin. He stops short of saying that is a good thing. You are obviously fearless. That is an excellent trait for becoming a hero. You might as well do some heroic deeds and have a song or two written about you before you die. no? Why I suspect there is a chance to be a hero right over there in the white room.
Blikbek starts to tremble in Kezzat's arms.
"Not the white room!" he shrieks, clinging to the other Goblin. "There is not hero enough in a THOUSAND Goblins to get me to go back there! No!"