Poppy: Two hours, Jonah. You gotta be back here in two hours. By that time, they’ll be deep in the spiral, so you better know what you’re doing.
Jonah Note 13
So there’s a part of this story I haven’t related yet. I’m going to jump back in time a couple days and tell it now.
The afternoon after I had killed Prince Kankan, I set out into the main part of Castellane. Popper was busy exploring his new castle, and Gretchen was on her way to the Menagerie to free the white jackets living there. I’d brought several arrowed warriors with me, but I’d dismissed them at a line of towers near the back curve of the spiral. This particular place was notable because it comprised a long line of towers in a row, no two of the same type. I wanted these NPCs to get experienced with the multiple types of towers, and I ordered them to try each one in turn. Arrow, rock chucker, lightning, fire, freeze, mortar, Muzzle, and poison. Afterward, I’d promote each of them and put them in charge of crews of their own.
I had two missions. The first was to sniff out Chief Musa. The second was to find the remaining hobgoblins and convince them to fight for us. I wanted to do this alone, but I did bring Tiatha the auric with me. In addition to being a healer, she was also a druid, and I noticed she could cast a few spells that would be useful here. We each rode horses from the stables, mine being a shy palomino named Doro. I missed my Jenny, even though these horses were much faster. And obedient.
The healer was an odd traveling companion. She always seemed on the verge of saying something, but she never quite got the words out. Popper had wondered earlier if she didn’t have a backstory or if something else was wrong with the NPC. I didn’t think that was the case with her. I sensed a kind of odd sadness there. She never talked, and she gave curt, one-worded answers to my questions. If I asked her about her history, she didn’t respond at all. Still, I sensed a confusing depth there, just wanting to bubble to the surface.
My first stop had been the blue church. The Night Temple of Kalika. The large, ornate building—this world’s analog for the church of Notre-Dame—stood across the large gardens in front of Fort Bloodgasm. We’d entered the building to find a single occupant, an elderly hobgoblin shaman who slept on a mat behind the altar.
At first I thought the hobgoblin was actually a plain-old goblin. Hobgoblins were much larger than goblins. Shaggier, too. But elderly hobgoblins seemed to shrink to almost half their original size, and this one had lost his hair as well. They still had the wide facial flanges that separated them from the more chimpanzee-like goblins, but at least for this cleric, the flanges had sagged and became jowly. As a result, the withered cleric gave the appearance of a large, oversized goblin.
Tiatha and I stood in the entrance to the colossal church, staring in awe at the tall ceilings and stained glass windows. Gretchen had said only a few random groups of adventurers had ever been allowed in the church, but she couldn’t remember what the prize involved had been. The place smelled of mold and rotting foliage though no plants grew within unlike the castle, which smelled the same way.
I’d seen photographs of the real Notre-Dame de Paris, from before the terrorist attack that had leveled it, and this was one of the few game locations that paled in comparison to the real deal. This looked and felt like a real, gothic-style cathedral. But it was missing something intangible, a sense of life and history. The game designers usually got this right here in Dominion of Blades, but for this particular location, they’d missed the mark.
That wasn’t to say this place wasn’t impressive. Each of the dozens of stained-glass windows told a story, of the time before when Castellane had been the city of the wark-ee. This church, the Night Temple of Kalika, had obviously been designed to be shown as a usurper to whatever the original church had been.
The black altar was a pile of bleached, white bones, rising to a large, yellow candle that hissed and spit, giving off light that reflected oddly in the room. This altar had obviously been shoehorned in, replacing whatever had been in its place.
Sleeping on a small, dirty mat at the foot of the pile of scrolls was the diminutive hobgoblin shaman. He only had a single tuft of gray, wispy hair on his green head. His elf-like ears had once been gauged, but the lobes hung loosely, like twin strands of wet cord. The creature sat up slowly after I kicked him awake, looking between us. The entire left side of his body was covered with a tribal tattoo I saw now, starting at his head and stretching down his entire body. He wore tattered rags. His left eye was gone, replaced with a red gem that sparkled in the candlelight.
His dot on the minimap was white, thankfully. He looked like a harmless old man, but if I’d learned anything in the short time I’d been here, looks could be deceiving.
“You cannot worship here,” the shaman said, coming to his feet. “We are only for the deceived.”
“The deceived?” I asked.
He nodded. “Goblins, hobgoblins, trolls, ogres, and their like. Those with the blood of the night gods.” He looked between me and Tiatha. “Humans and aurics do not belong here.”
“I’m just looking for information,” I said. “I don’t wish to harm you or your church.”
“Is this why you’re starving out our people? Is this why you drove us from our home, cornered us here? You wish us no harm. That is what your predecessor said, King Jonah. Yes, I know who you are.”
“I promised Prince Kankan I would help feed those who remain. I also promised him that your people would be allowed to return to the Kampong, should you wish.” I paused, searching for the right words. “I have no desire to keep the world unified against its will.”
“It is a little late for that,” the shaman said. He picked up a small stick with a black feather tied to the end and shook it. It rattled.
“You are not of this world,” the shaman continued. “I can sense it. There were others like you, clerics of Tharon. They came, but they chose not to take this church.”
“Wait, what?” I said, suddenly interested. “When was this?”
“Before, but not too long before. They were only interested in churches that serve humans. The dark wizard… he told me the truth about you. He said you’d only be humans, and since humans can’t worship here, he chose not to kill the church and convert it. He asked me to look out for those like you, other humans. He told me everything you say will be a lie, but not a lie with malice. You are playing a role, like actors, on a stage. You are gods in your own right, wearing bodies that aren’t your own, visiting a world that isn’t your own. But your world has died, and you are trapped here.”
The shaman laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “I can see it in you, that glow, just like that dark wizard of Tharon. I told him what I tell you now.”
“What’s that?” I asked, my mind reeling.
“I have known this for some time, that this world we live in is a construct. I watched, for so long I have watched. We huddle in this wretched city, away from our true home, pretending to fight back your soldiers day after day. But I remember. I saw. You would defeat us, you would make it to the castle. Sometimes it happened multiple times a week. But then you would go away, and it would be as if it never happened. Prince Kankan, Prince Maghan, both would fall in battle. Even Chief Musa. But they would return, and it would be as if it never happened. Only I saw this. That is when I realized we are not in a real world. It is a rare thing, when time moves forward in this place. It moves now, with you here. It is you, you who is spinning the cogs that makes this world work.”
I didn’t know what to say. Beside me, Tiatha had grown still. I suspected she wasn’t really hearing what this shaman was saying.
“You have the power to truly make us die. I fear that power. But you are few, and we are many.”
This was just like when Yi had started talking about the true nature of this game. And once again, it was because of the influence of Smallthunder. But this shaman said something I’d never considered before. Popper, Gretchen, Daniels, and Smallthunder. Our characters in the game we
re all human. Was that on purpose? Were all the people from The Hibiscus who were trapped human? When I’d visited Africa, I hadn’t waited around long enough to see if Isabella and crew were human. If that was the case, then it narrowed it down quite a bit. I’d guess humans comprised about 30% of all the NPCs out there.
“Did this wizard give you his name?” I asked. “Was it Smallthunder?”
He shook his head. “No. Rector Smallthunder is their leader, but he was not with them. There were six. The one who spoke. His name was Wallis.”
Wallis. I hadn’t heard that name before. I mentally stored it away.
I had to deny it. Right? Gretchen had said multiple times that we’d be fucked if the NPCs became fully self-aware. This guy was further along than anyone I’d met yet, including Yi.
“Look,” I said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I meant it when I said I wish to feed your people. But I also need to find Chief Musa. Kankan seemed to think he’d be in a temple like this.”
The shaman sighed then shook his head. “Musa will not be in a temple of Kalika. He fled here, yes, near the end. I told him what I told you. His reaction was unexpected. He did not believe me, believing my words were a trick. As a result, he renounced Kalika. I do not know where he has gone. But if you do find him, end his pitiful life. It is time for his son to become war chief.”
If I killed Chief Musa, I would become war chief of the hobgoblins, not his son. At least that’s what I thought was supposed to happen.
“Where are the rest of your people?” I asked.
The shaman seemed surprised. “They are where they always have been. They are not hiding, not from you. If you wish to find hobgoblins.” He pointed up. “Then you must climb.”
“Come on,” I said to Tiatha, turning to leave.
“King Jonah,” the shaman called. I paused.
“If you truly meant what you said. About us returning to the Kampong, then there is someone else you should speak with...”
An hour later, I checked up on my arrowed soldiers and their towers. I was especially impressed with both the lightning and rock chucker towers. I made a few adjustments to their crews, and then Tiatha and I set out into the city to find some hobgoblin dwellings.
Tiatha remained silent the entire time. I kept a close eye on the minimap. Despite the insistence of the others that the city was mostly abandoned, my keen hunter eyes caught life all around us. Most of the creatures were the pink dots of non-hostile animals, but red swarms appeared now and them. Pong flies. Popper had called them mini, flying piranhas.
“Here,” I said, stopping over a brown, dead patch of land at the base of a decrepit building. “Cast your spell.”
Tiatha raised her hand, mouthing a few words. A moment later, the square of land glowed, and the brown plants turned green.
“What about the bugs?” I said. “Can we keep it safe from them?”
She nodded, casting a second spell, called Safe Harvest. The entire patch of land glowed yellow.
“This will last a month,” Tiatha said, “and then the protection will fade.” The impassive druid seemed to almost smile.
I nodded, looking up at the top of the tall building next to this garden. I could feel them watching us. Their dots continued to be red on the minimap. I didn’t dare approach them yet. We needed to survive another wave, one where we weren’t fighting their fellow hobgoblins. If we restored enough of their gardens, I hoped to return in a few days to find that their hostility to me had faded.
I also planned on building a trench here, filling it with clean water. I’d have Gretchen plant a spring, and I would seed the pond with some fish. Eventually, I wanted to hunt down the charm stone that was poisoning the Cassagnac, but that would have to come later.
“Let’s keep moving. We’re going to restore all the gardens we can find. I’ll go with you today, but I’ll be busy tomorrow. Hopefully we can get some other druids to help you, but I’ll make sure you’re escorted. I want you to restore the gardens, as many as you can. Beware the roving swarms, but as long as you keep one eye open, you’ll be safe.”
We wandered and restored, one garden after another. Most of them sprouted right away, growing a heavy, gourd-like fruit. I knew meat would be better, but there was nothing I could do about that now.
Later, as we reached the gates of Fort Bloodgasm, Tiatha turned to me and said, “I believed what he said.”
“What?” I asked. “What who said?”
“The shaman. I believed him.”
Jonah Note 14
I thought of Tiatha’s cryptic pronouncement now, as Bingo and I approached the gates of the first castle. He’d left Winston in charge of the other gorcupines. The host of emo-tong had already passed this area, and they were winding their way toward the second castle. They’d ignored this castle and the massive Sentinel Tower, but all of the arrow and fire towers between here and there had been destroyed by that single, bomb-dropping emo-tong.
I’d been so busy, I hadn’t allowed myself to think of what Tiatha had said. Popper had once joked that we were contagious, that NPCs in our presence had a tendency to break out of their NPC prison and to start thinking for themselves. I was beginning to think he was more correct than he realized.
“The oracle is the wisest of us all,” the shaman had said, as we left the church of Kalika. “She speaks often of returning to the Kampong. But she will not believe you have the best of intentions. She does not trust easily. Approach her if you will, but be wary of how she might react.”
My plan was to first win over the hobgoblin civilians and to then approach the oracle. If we had to kill her—and I feared we would—getting the rest of the hobgoblins on our side would be that more difficult. But if we first gained the trust of the others, then maybe she would be more welcoming. We no longer had that luxury. I needed to install the triplets in that tower, and I needed to do it now.
Trap notifications were coming hard and fast, including the triggering of a beast trap that had unleashed a few dozen fire peluda monsters in the midst of the emo-tong. So far, the barbed lizards had been the only effective defense. They’d killed almost 200 emo-tong before they’d all been cut down. Unfortunately, we only had enough of the beasts to fill four more beast traps.
The three young archers and their bard companion came jogging up as I reached the entrance to Castle 1.
“We took down one of those red posers,” Starr said. Or was it Crystal? I got the first two mixed up, despite their different, 80’s hairstyles. Kitty Chapman, the one who always wore black and had the short hair, was the only one who I would never mix up.
“We had to jump onto the path to fire, though,” Crystal added. I remembered, then. Starr had the side ponytail, and Crystal was the one with the big hair. “That shit is dangerous. It took like 8 arrows to take just one out.”
“That skeleton is going to be a problem,” Kitty Chapman added.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m going in there alone. Give me five minutes. If I can’t talk her into letting us up there, we’re going to have to kill her. We don’t have time for finesse. I’m hoping she’s amenable.”
Bingo grunted.
This castle was much smaller than the others, and it was dwarfed by the enormously-tall tower, which topped 300 meters. The Sentinel Tower rose like a fang into the night sky, with a red light at the very top, like it was a radio tower back in the real world.
A simple moat led to a pair of open doors, which led to a long, torch-lit hallway. The sputtering torches danced, casting long shadows.
Entering Castle 1
Warning: this castle is occupied by an opposing faction.
I jogged through this first hall, past multiple tapestries depicting the plight of the hobgoblins, from their expulsion from the jungles during the unification, to their flight across the world, to them finally being surrounded here in the peaceful city of Castellane. Tapestries depicted them slaughtering the bird-like wark-ee. Several different avian creatures were
shown in the tapestries, not just the wark-ee. Cranes, mostly, but also seagulls like Larus were shown to be killed.
One of the last tapestries showed War Chief Musa decapitating his father, War Chief Ichichi, in his bid to gain control of the city and the remaining hobgoblins.
“Oracle,” I cried, rushing into this final room, the throne room. I wanted to create a sense of urgency. “Oracle, please. We need your help.”
I stopped at the sight of the creature wallowing there on the couch.
My breath caught in my throat, and I suddenly, unexpectedly felt like I couldn’t breathe. The déjà vu, seeing the hobgoblin woman prone on the couch. Not of the troll queen, who had been in the same position, but of my own mother. My mother had a long, leather sectional couch in the living room of her home in Phoenix. She spent her days there, watching television, mostly. Though she also spent hours with the neural cradle plugged in, so she could experience one of her soap VRs. Porn for women, my dad had called it. Watching her gyrate and moan, with that damn thing on her head. The thought made me ill.
The way the oracle was positioned on her massive, red couch, and the look of absolute disdain on her fat, hobgoblin face, it hit me like a goddamned bus. It was like the game designers had mined my own memories of my mother, and they placed her here in the game. I could even hear her voice.
“Do you know how hard it is to raise a kid like you?” she liked to say. “Let me tell you, it’s no picnic.”
I took a few short breaths. This isn’t mom. Mom is long dead. She has been dead for thousands of years.
“Oracle,” I repeated. “The city is under attack by the emo-tong. I request your assistance.”
The woman stared at me for several moments. She was old and withered, like the shaman had been, but that was where the comparison ended. This woman was easily one and a half times the girth of Prince Kankan. The female hobgoblins didn’t have the large facial flanges of the males, but it was hard to notice with her drooping, hairy face. She wore the equivalent of a hobgoblin moomoo: a wide, formless dress that cascaded off the red couch.
The Hobgoblin Riot: Dominion of Blades Book 2: A LitRPG Adventure Page 31
