Goblinsbane Ch. 02: The Bashaan Twins

There were three things that every citizen of Vesper was likely to know:

One: How to get to any of the city's many temples.

Two: The name and religious affiliation of the current Priest Lord.

Three: The Busty Wench served a fine breakfast.

Because of the Busty Wench's well-deserved reputation, it was packed nearly every morning with customers who were eager to stuff their gobs with bacon, eggs, biscuits, and flapjacks, all of which were prepared by the best short-order cooks in the city and brought to their tables by some of its bustiest women. The only things that could keep the crowds away from the Wench were heavy rain and winter's cold, and even they weren't a guaranteed deterrent.

"There's no better way to start off the day than breakfast at the Wench" was a saying that many Vesperans had heard, although few could say where they first heard it. As far as they were concerned, it was a saying that had always been around.

Whoever was responsible for coming up with and spreading the slogan was surely a pioneer in grassroots marketing.

This morning at the Buxom Wench began like most others. The inviting aroma of fried food hung heavily in the air. Every seat was occupied. And the patrons either conversed with those seated around them, or else they bantered with their attractive, gregarious servers, each of whom were stacked better than the flapjacks. The general mood of today's breakfast crowd was lively and carefree.

Unfortunately, the mood was disturbed when a young, crazy-eyed man burst into the inn. His entrance was so sudden, so manic that it startled the patrons closest to the door and caused many of the conversations to cease.

"Everyone, listen to me, now!" he shouted from the doorway before darting further inside. "Listen, for I come bearing grave news! He schemes against us! I've seen it! He schemes against us!"

The people who had looked up turned away once they recognized who it was. Some shook their heads and muttered something about this familiar annoyance. One of the chesty serving girls rolled her eyes as she carried a couple of plates to the table of a couple who were doing their best to ignore the breakfast time doomsayer.

The man in the dirty, gray clothes wandered about the room trying to get someone's - anyone's - attention. He grabbed a passing patron who was on his way to the privy and began to rave directly in his face. "Why won't you fools listen to me?! Don't you understand?! He is scheming against us while you sit here wallowing in pork fat and apathy!

"You don't see, but I see! Ghez-Martigan schemes against us! And when his plan is unfurled, it will spell doom for the young ones!"

The bewildered patron who was caught by the screamer shook him off, then hurried to the back to 'see an elf about a unicorn'. Non-deterred, the madman continued to get into the faces of different patrons, all of whom ignored him or shoved him away so they could get back to their pork fat and apathy.

Out of all the people in the Buxom Wench, the only one who paid the doomsayer any attention was Sister Sabine. She had just stepped inside, for she had come here to find someone. However, the presence of the seemingly homeless and obviously troubled man pulled at her heart strings. Her search would have to wait while she offered her aid.

She approached him from behind and spoke to him, her voice calm and sweet. "What is it that distresses you, friend?" The man whipped his head around. The abruptness of his movement and the wildness in his eyes startled her, but she maintained her cool. "Perhaps I can assist you?"

The man pulled his long, messy, black bangs away from his face and stared at her. The intensity of his gaze made Sabine feel uncomfortable, but she endured it without flinching.

"Yes, you can help!" the man proclaimed after several seconds of silence. "You can help more than anyone!" The man snatched her wrist and pulled her toward a booth that had just become vacant. She allowed this stranger to drag her, for now, but her patience would not last for much longer.

He slid into the booth. Sabine gathered her green robes around her legs before she took a seat across from him. The man leaned onto the table, which got his face closer to her than she would have liked.

"Ghez-Martigan has begun to enact his plan!" He whispered to her, because apparently his message was now a secret, rather than something to be shouted out to the crowd. "He plots against the young ones, killing them now so they will not trouble him in the future. Those who never die have plans that span centuries, and he will never die! What he does to us in the present will weaken us in the future."

Sabine didn't understand what he was saying, but she hoped that she was helping him simply by listening and engaging him. "Who is Ghez-Martigan?"

The man's eyes widened. "You don't know? Well, you will know, soon!

"If you truly wish to learn more about Ghez-Martigan, then I have a quest for you. I need you to listen carefully." The man curled his index finger at her, beckoning her to lean closer.

Sabine was still wary of the stranger, but the mention of a quest piqued her interest. After all, it had only been a couple of days since Mirea - Goddess of the Field and Womb - gave a quest to her, directly. Perhaps this agitated man and the task he was about to tell her were somehow related to the greater mission given by her goddess?

Sabine leaned closer. "I'm listening. Please, tell me what needs to be done."

The man's lips spread in what appeared to be an excited, grateful grin. "Good, good! To learn more about Ghez-Martigan, this is what you need to do: You must g..."

At that moment, a pair of gloved hands grabbed the man by the shoulder and upper arm and hoisted him to his feet. "Okay, that's enough, Trav. You've scared enough customers for one day."

Sister Sabine recognized the newcomer's voice before she saw his exotic face and his mohawk. It was Eredwal, the person she was here to find in the first place. He pulled Trav toward the door. Surprisingly, the smaller man didn't put up a fight.

"Huh? Oh, Eredwal," Trav appeared to snap out of his frantic mood. His gaze wandered around the room as though he didn't know where he was. "Did...I did it again, didn't I? I had one of my spells?"

Eredwal stopped dragging the disheveled man. Letting go of him, he merely escorted him, instead. "Yeah, you did."

"Oh my," Trav tried to straighten his hair with shaky fingers. "What did I say this time? Did I try to give someone a quest again?"

"Yeah, you did that, too."

"Oh my. Oh my." Trav's shoulders were hunched forward, and he followed Eredwal out of the Buxom Wench without any trouble. Sister Sabine was right behind them, listening to their exchange.

"Do you remember what I told you last time, Trav?" Eredwal asked him as they stepped out onto the street.

Trav's face scrunched up as though it was hard for him to remember. "What did you tell me? You told me, um...hm."

Without warning, his face brightened. "Oh! You told me not to leave the temple of Khy Bin Roh."

"That's right, buddy. You didn't listen to me, did you?"

"No, I suppose I didn't. I'm sorry." Trav's embarrassment was painted clearly on his haggard, angular face.

Eredwal patted him on the shoulder. "Eh, don't apologize. Tell you what: why don't you head back to the temple and stay put, this time? The priests there will take good care of you. That's what they do." He glanced over his shoulder, where Sabine was watching. "Isn't that right, Sister?"

The seemingly young priestess nodded, smiling. "Yes, that's right. The priests of Khy Bin Roh are not only knowledgeable, they're also kind. Ever so kind. They will help you find peace of mind, if you let them."

Trav considered what they said, carefully, before making his decision. "All right. I'll go back."

"Good," Eredwal said. "And make sure not to run off this time. Because if I find out that you've left the temple again, I'll find you and stick my boot so far up your rear, your breath will smell like leather."

Sabine could tell that Eredwal was joking, but Trav apparently did not, because there was a look of genuine concern on his face. "If I could control myself, I wouldn't leave. You know that, Eredwal."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just foolin' with you." Eredwal placed his hands on Trav's shoulders, gently, and turned him in the direction of the temple. "You'd better get going. I'll tell Marteena to check up on you later."

Trav gave the warrior and the priestess a feeble wave before he headed off toward Khy Bin Roh's temple, which was there in the Gold District rather than the Faith District. Although it was early morning, there were already many people hurrying along the street, so he had to weave past the crowds on his way.

Once the strange young man disappeared among the people, Sister Sabine turned to Eredwal. "I must admit, I am surprised by how much kindness you just showed."

Eredwal gave her a sidelong glance. The small frown on his face told her that her approval was making him uncomfortable, but that didn't stop her from smiling at him.

"Marteena's been looking out for him for a little while. I'm just being nice to someone my girlfriend is nice to. That's all."

"I see." Sabine didn't push the issue, this time. "Tell me, does Trav often walk up to strangers demanding they listen to him?"

"Yeah. Well, he used to. Before Marteena convinced him to get help from the Bin Rohans, he'd come by the Wench practically every day, ranting and raving about one thing or another. Sometimes he'd talk about a death cult living in the sewers. Sometimes it'd be a dragon that was on its way to destroy all of Vesper. You know, that sort of thing.

"If someone listens to him, he gives them a quest. Did he give you a quest?"

"No, but he was about to."

Eredwal guffawed. Sabine didn't remember if she had ever been guffawed at before today. "Sister, since you're tagging along with me, there's a lotta things you'll need to learn about being an adventurer. This is one of them:

"Never accept a quest from some stranger in a tavern."

"Very well. I won't. But may I ask why I should avoid such things?"

"Because randos you meet in a tavern or an inn or out on the street will only give you the worst kinds of quests: killing rats, clearing out zombies from a graveyard, or some sort of fetch quest."

Sabine was about to ask what that meant, but Eredwal anticipated her question. "A fetch quest is when someone asks you to run someplace, get something, and bring it back to them in exchange for some coin. It's basically an errand, like picking up someone's wash.

"The sorts of quests you'll get from randos are menial and low-paying. They're good for rookie adventurers because they're relatively easy. But now that you're with me, you're past doing easy stuff."

To Sabine, these menial tasks that Eredwal spoke of sounded similar to his job of killing greenskins in Falo Forest and collecting their ears to show to the sheriff. She didn't mention this, however.

"So from whom should I accept quests?"

"Pick something from the job board at the adventurer's guild hall. Or only accept something from people you know."

"I understand. But you know Trav, and I assume you wouldn't accept a quest from him. Why not?"

"Because he's been having these so-called visions for years, and they never lead to anything. Anyone foolish enough to listen to him ends up wasting their time."

Something occurred to him just then. "Hey, where's your human shield?"

Sabine was confused, but only for a moment. "Hm? You mean Kassus? He's here; he needed to use the privy."

As though he knew someone was looking for him, Kassus stepped through the door and joined them in front of the Buxom Wench. Unarmored but not unarmed, he had a broadsword strapped to his hip, and he wore a green uniform with yellow trim that identified him as a follower of Mirea.

"There you are, Blessed Speaker." The tall, black, bearded guard strode forward and then met Eredwal's gaze. "Goblinsbane," he grunted out that one-word greeting.

"There you are, Kassus. Grr!" Eredwal mocked the bigger man by imitating his deep, resonant voice. "I thought you and Sabine were attached by the hip. What kept you away for so long? You got the runs?"

Kassus glowered at him. "No, I do not. I'm fine."

"Well, while your doodie was keeping you from your duty, the Sister here was accosted by a stranger."

Eyes wide, Kassus turned to Sabine, but before he could ask what happened or apologize, she chuckled. "Don't worry, Kassus, it was nothing. Eredwal is simply trying to irritate you. This is something we'll have to get used to if we're to travel with him."

"Hmph. So I've noticed. But are you certain you are all right? I would not forgive myself if something happened to you under my watch."

"Your watch? The only thing you've been watching for the past few minutes was the inside of a privy door." Eredwal smiled like an imp.

"Be that as it may...you were not harmed, Blessed Speaker?"

Sabine touched her friend's upper arm. "I'm fine. Really. And please stop it with this 'Blessed Speaker' business. You and I have known each other since we were children. What happened doesn't change that."

Eredwal didn't ask what the title 'Blessed Speaker' meant. Even though neither Sabine nor Kassus had given him the details of what happened the other morning - when Mirea Herself told them to follow the Goblinsbane - he didn't seem to care enough to ask too many questions. Sabine figured that his curiosity was limited to how much he would get paid and when.

"So, are the two of you ready to head out? I've got to meet two friends of mine in the Falo today. We have until this afternoon to get there, which gives us plenty of time."

"Actually we must go to the temple before we leave the city. Kassus and I are needed in a ceremony. I'd very much appreciate it if you joined us, Eredwal."

Eredwal made no attempt to hide his annoyance. "Seriously? What possible reason is there for me to attend this thing? I can just wait here, and you can come back when you're through getting blessed or whatever it is you've got to do."

"Now, now, no need to throw a fit." Sister Sabine patted Eredwal a couple of times on his metal-covered shoulder. "I will tell the other priestesses that we're on a tight schedule, and they'll keep the ceremony as short as possible.

"Besides, in addition to getting paid, traveling with Kassus and I comes with additional benefits, like the hospitality of any faithful Mirean. Come with us to the temple so you can experience that hospitality."

Eredwal stared at her for a few seconds without saying a word. "Fine. Just give me a few minutes to tell Marteena that I'm going, and to grab my horse.

"Nobody will mind that I'm going to the temple in my work clothes, right?" He was wearing the same armored coat he wore when they first met.

"Not at all. Before you go, though, I have another question for you."

"That's fine. I figure you'll have a lot of questions for me, and I welcome you to ask them. The more you two know, the less likely you are to get yourself hurt, or to get me killed."

Kassus was perturbed by Eredwal's tone, but Sabine ignored it. "Trav spoke of someone named Ghez-Martigan. Have you ever heard that name before?"

"Nope."

"And you're certain that Trav's visions are nothing to be worried about?"

"Trust me, Sister, it's nothing." The Goblinsbane turned and began to make his way to the stable around the corner. "If I'm wrong, then I'll buy you a drink."

*****

The ceremony held in the temple of Mirea was quite beautiful. It was witnessed by every available priestess and acolyte, who filled all the pews closest to the altar and filled the sanctuary with their melodic chanting. And like Sister Sabine said, Mother Loria expedited the ceremony so that Eredwal would not be late to his meeting.

The entire event barely took more than an hour. But that didn't stop Eredwal from complaining about it during the ride to Falo Forest.

"You Mireans sure take your sweet-ass time doing anything. The whole thing should've taken ten minutes, maybe twenty, tops. But it felt like we were there forever."

"Listen here, you godless miscreant," Kassus growled. "You can insult me all you want. But I cannot abide any insult to my faith."

"Okay, I'll leave your faith alone as long as I can keep insulting you. Can you abide that, you apple-picking half-ogre?"

Sabine, who already settled into her role as the peacekeeper between the two hot-headed men, interjected before either of them could start screaming at the other. "The ceremony wasn't too long, and you know it. We'll see your friends in time, so you have no reason to complain besides a desire to do so."

"Meh," was all Eredwal said in return.

"Besides, the gifts that were given to Kassus and I will help us help you."

Sister Sabine thought more about this morning's event. Its purpose was to bestow an exceedingly precious gift upon Sister Sabine, who was the latest in a long line of Blessed Speakers, as well as the only one alive in the world today. Her gift was an artifact - an ancient mace that had been locked away in the temple vault for a generation. She remembered what Matron Loria explained to her and to all the other Mireans in attendance:

"This holy weapon is known as the Morning Star," Loria had proclaimed. "It was first wielded by Paronica of Springhaven. After Paronica left this world to join the Mother of All in the Verdant Valley, the Morning Star passed to another, then to another, then to another. And so it went for centuries.

"The Morning Star has been held in the hands of many of Mirea's faithful over the past seventeen hundred years. With its aid, they performed countless great deeds in our Mother's name. Now, Sabine, it belongs in your hands.

"May it aid you as you perform your own great deeds in service to Her."

Remembering those words, Sabine reached for the mace, which had been hanging from her brand new weapon belt. She held it up at eye level and inspected it from multiple angles. It felt like she had done this a dozen times since they rode out of Vesper an hour ago, but she couldn't help it.

The Morning Star was such a simple weapon; it was basically just a club with a metal head. But to her, there was elegance in its simplicity. The handle was made of fine ash braced with iron. Fresh leather strips were wrapped around the handle's end. The mace's head, which was covered in thick studs, appeared to be made out of gold. Even though Sabine did not know much about weaponry, she knew that gold wasn't a good choice for a weapon unless it was enchanted, which the Morning Star most certainly was. Simply by holding it in her hand, she could feel the divine energy pulsing within it. It almost felt like a heartbeat.

Thanks to Matron Loria, Sabine knew the mace's history. What she did not know was how to unleash its power. When she asked the matron for instruction on its use, the elder priestess merely smiled and offered this cryptic advice:

"As your faith grows, so, too, will the power of the weapon."

Staring at the weapon, Sabine wondered how her faith in Mirea could possibly grow. And if it did, what sorts of powers would her faith unlock in the Morning Star?

Eredwal noticed Sabine inspecting her weapon, again. "You know its name doesn't technically make sense, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's called a morning star, but it's actually a mace."

Sabine stared at him, her expression blank.

Kassus spoke up since he knew what Eredwal was getting at. "No, you fool, it's not called a morning star. It's called the Morning Star. Weren't you paying attention during the ceremony? The Blessed Speaker Paronica of Springhaven named it the Morning Star to honor the Harvest Mother's Divine Husband, Radain Brih. It was enchanted by a Radainian.