Prologue: Helena

He’s going to come back for me someday.  Helena laid her cards out, communing with a mysterious force.  Her relationship with these cards had been a double-edged sword since that fateful day many years ago, on which she had first gained her power.

The sun had been as hot that day as a blazing inferno.  It had been that which had torn her from her sleep.  As she had searched for some water to quell the intense heat in her body, she noticed them there.  It had seemed like they were calling to her, and, instinctively knowing what to do, she had heeded.  She’d laid them out in front of her just like she was doing today, and she felt exactly what it was they were telling her.  It’s going to happen tonight.  Trust in me, and you will survive it.

And so, she trusted.  Whatever magical contract was formed that day, its initiator had not lied.  Something big had happened, and here she was, having lived to tell the tale.

However, like any other member of her kind, she was not without scars.  Physically and mentally, that day had left its mark upon her.

Abeni, her orcish mother, had run away from her tribe long before then and met the love of her life, a human who’d lived in the city of Lunette.  In this loving union, Helena had been born and raised.  Her father was a kind man who had treated them both like royalty.  No matter how much the rest of their community loathed the orcish woman and her daughter, and ridiculed their beastly appearance, he had always made sure they knew he believed that both women were as beautiful as the night sky, inside and out.

She refused to lose the people she loved so much in whatever tragedy was set to take place.

“Papa…  The cards said something bad’s gonna happen tonight,” the young half-orc told her father over lunch.  “Promise me you’ll be alright, okay?”

“The cards…  I see.  Well, my darling, I will promise you.  I will be okay, because there’s no way on this earth that I would leave my queen and princess,” the man smiled a weak smile.  His dark hair slid into his eyes as he went to his daughter’s side.  Something about his body language that day had made her feel like he hadn’t quite believed her.

Later that night, he paid with his life.  As the orcs barged into their small home, the tallest one among them grabbed the man by the neck, crushing his trachea.  The agony in his eyes as he’d died was a sight that haunted her to this day, but the horror of that night had only just begun.

“Scrawny, but will grow…  Might make fun toy someday,” the orc who had just murdered her father was closing in on her.  “Your daughter, Abeni?”

The orcish woman had stood from her seat.  “Helena… is no toy.”

Trust in me.  Use that spell we talked about, darling.  Get just out of his reach, and use the spell.

She backed away carefully, as not to provoke the large orc.  She wanted to cry for her father, but at the same time, she knew he would not want his Princess in danger.  He would want her to do everything in her power, for both herself and her mother.  Holding back a sob, she grabbed the first of the cards from her pocket with a shaky hand.  Gesturing with it in her hand, she conjured a thick mist and started to run.  “Mama, let’s get out of here!”

She trusted her mother to be behind her, running from their aggressors, but when she finally stopped to look back, panting, her mother was not there.  “Mama?”

Prologue: Halim

“Friends, family, colleagues.  We have long lived in an age of treachery, treason, espionage…  And in many cases, flat-out assassination.  My late father was as much a perpetrator of these crimes as a victim of them, so I too can say that my family was not immune to this terrible corruption.  That is why I seek to put an end to our people’s suffering, and to the meaningless struggle for power!” the speech had been well-practiced.  Ever since he was a child, Halim had been writing it, sickened with his people’s brutality.  Changes would be made, when he was king.  Now that he was king, he could have the peaceful world from his dreams.

The drow nobles did not seem to agree.  An arrow zoomed past his right ear, and he stopped speaking, shocked.  Perhaps it was naïve, but this was hardly the reaction he had envisioned from his people.  Accolades for the wise King Halim, perhaps.  Celebrations of the man who finally brought peace to the drow.

Instead, he found himself in the midst of an assassination attempt.  Another arrow flew at him, knocking the crown right off his head as it impaled its lustrous silk.  He acted on instinct, knowing he would not get lucky again.  Behind the throne.  Out the door.  He ran as fast as his legs could possibly carry him, toward his chamber.  He didn’t have time to pack more than the bare essentials.  Just as he grabbed the mask from the previous year’s ball, stuffing it into his bag, three of the soldiers from his own guard burst through the doors, weapons drawn.  He drew his rapier, shaking.  “Are you on the side of corruption, or peace?!”

“I think you’re confusing peace and cowardice, Prince,” the drow woman spat.  “You don’t deserve the crown.”

“Perhaps not…  But deserving the crown has never been a prerequisite before now, if our previous nobility is any indication,” he backed toward the window, glancing out…  No good.  He was on the top floor, and there was nothing on the outside to grab hold of.  A fall from this height would, without a doubt, kill him.  “The kings and queens of the drow have lacked honor from the beginning.”

“You… Ingrate!  Brat!  Heathen!” the woman charged straight at him, attempting to push him out the open window.  He jumped out of the way, stabbing the woman with his rapier as she just barely managed to right herself enough not to fall out the window herself.

The next soldier ran at him, lunging with his own rapier and drawing blood from his Majesty’s arm.  The third, too, was upon him, a beautiful young lady whose blade connected with his leg.  Her voice barely more than a whisper, the words escaped her mouth, “I’m sorry, Prince Halim.”

“King…  As of this day, Asra, I am king,” he whispered, his words striking a strange sort of chord as he stepped aside, starting to slide away from the window.  His voice gained confidence, and with it, volume.  “It is my divine right to serve my people, and to bring them peace!  I was born with a mission from the nine moons, to rid this land of corruption and sorrow!”

“Your father was twice the king you’ll ever be,” the injured woman stepped in front of him, cutting him off from his escape route.  Her rapier swung wide of him, missing by a mile in her fury.  “Your divine right is to die here, by our hands!”

As he dodged the male soldier’s rapier as well, Asra saw her chance.  She calculated her strike carefully and lunged, getting him between the plates of his leather armor.  He cringed and screamed as she twisted the blade and pulled it back, covered in his blood.  Her smile was gentle and apologetic.  “This…  is the way it has to be.”

“No…  Asra, don’t you see?  This is exactly what I’m trying to change.  It doesn’t have to be like this anymore.  The generations of suffering our people have faced can finally end,” once again, that strange chord was in his voice, but this time, it held a feeling of danger as well.  He kept his rapier at the ready, ready to parry attacks if necessary.  By the time the trio realized what he was doing, the sound itself had solidified into crystalline shards, raining down upon them.  Bleeding heavily, the two women collapsed to the ground.

The remaining soldier looked Halim in the eyes, almost pleadingly…  He too was injured, the sound having done intense damage.  “Is it true that you love Asra?”

“What of it?  You take love as a sign of weakness as well?” he frowned deeply, still not letting his guard down.

“If it is, then I am as weak as you are, Halim.  I beg you, let me treat Amani, and I will let you treat Asra.  When they are stable, you can kill me for all I care…  As long as she lives, your majesty, my life means nothing.”

“You’re just as afraid to die as I am.  Don’t try to act so brave,” he knelt next to Asra, tearing a bit of cloth from his garments to tend to her wounds.  When the bleeding was controlled, he stood.  “Let me leave this place in peace, and your life will be spared.”

“It’s strange…  I don’t know if you’re being merciful, or if you’re simply afraid to kill me.”

Prologue: Kun

Lunacy.  That was the word used to describe the condition in which animals mutated and grew more aggressive, driven insane by Mamia’s broken condition.  Coincidentally, it was also the only word suitable enough to describe the proposition being made to the counsel by the tall, disheveled-looking elf standing before them.

“You see, ladies and gentlemen, I feel no shame in admitting that since I was young, I have always wanted to blow up a moon,” spouted the man in an almost musical tone as he fidgeted with his left ear.  Numerous earrings adorned it, each bearing a curious set of runes.  “However, make no mistake.  This will certainly be a mutually beneficial endeavor.  You see, after decades of research and careful observation, I have formed the hypothesis that the nine moons have an extraordinary ability to adapt in the face of trial.”

“Have you come here to mock us?” a woman said in a bland sort of mewl, her words dragging together monotonously.  Her posture was slack, betraying her own boredom.  “What we need are solutions…  not your mindless babble.  How exactly will blowing up the moon fix the problem of Lunacy in the children of Mamia?”

“Please, Senator Rita, if you’d just let me explain--”

“That’s Senator Gormlaith to you, Lovette,” the woman snapped.  Her previous boredom gave way quickly to annoyance, her posture snapping to attention.

“Kun, if you would.  I find surnames to be incredibly stuffy.  In any case, as I was saying before, the nine moons may be capable of adapting to temporarily take on the other moons’ domains should they become incapacitated.  It’s all here in my research notes.  For a full understanding of the concept, you can look them over at your own leisure.”

“I feel no need to waste my time on the musings of a madman.  Kun Lovette, please leave.”

“But Senator Rita, if Mamia is destroyed, Lunacy should, over time, disappear as well!  Think of those who are dying to vicious attacks by wild animals!  Think of those who are, themselves, suffering from afflictions of the mind!”

This argument struck her as odd.  Emotional appeal, from a man who had up to this day argued purely from the logical standpoint.  She smirked slightly as the question left her lips, “Coincidentally, Lovette, which moon were you born under?”

His hand left his ear for the first time since he’d begun to make his case, dropping to his side.  His expression was severe as he replied, “Mamia.”

“I submit to the counsel once again that there is ample reason to doubt this man is in possession of his mental faculties.  You are all quite aware, I’m certain, that Lunacy has grown severe enough recently to affect humanoids as well as less intelligent species.”

“You know very well there’s a world of difference between elves and orcs!” spat the elf, beginning to lose his patience.  The remark would cost him, however, as a good number of glances were being exchanged among the counsel members.

“Some of my best friends are orcs, you bloody racist,” snarled a half-elf to the right of Senator Gormlaith.

“I was merely stating that the only humanoids in which Lunacy has manifested so far are orcs, a group well-known to be predisposed to violent behavior!”

“While I won’t deny many orcish traditions seem brutal to us, Lunacy treats the rabbits and the wolves just the same, Lovette.  Guards, detain him.  I feel it dangerous to continue this conversation without taking the proper precautions.”

As the guards closed in, Kun shook his head, his left hand going instinctively to the hilt of his weapon.  “I have no intention of continuing a conversation that is clearly going nowhere.  I’d like to leave… peacefully, if possible, but I will fight if you give me no choice.”

The guards looked to Senator Gormlaith as though asking what they should do.

“Capture him.  He needs to submit to a proper evaluation for signs of Lunacy, as a matter of public safety.  Everyone who is not a member of the security force is to vacate the vicinity in an orderly fashion.”

As the counsel shuffled out briskly, Kun drew his longsword, backing up against the podium where he’d been making his case moments before.  His right hand dug into a pocket, searching for a certain vial.

The first of the guards ran at him, sap in hand, but failed to land a meaningful blow.  Kun guided his own weapon, slashing a deep wound across the man’s chest.  It was cold, and cruel.  There was no denying that the wound would be fatal if not tended quickly.  Still, he could not let himself be captured.

The next one came closer.  He only barely managed to dodge a blow to the head with the sap, stumbling into another guard and throwing him off balance.  He swung wildly at the man who had nearly hit him, but unsurprisingly, the frantic slash failed to connect.

They began to circle him, like predators, closing in on either side.  They were determined, alright.  Two saps bounded off his protective leather tunic as he stumbled forward, trying to deny them this advantage.  Even so, he heard footsteps in the halls.  More were on their way, likely ordered there by Gormlaith.  He slashed once again, his sword drawing blood from the soldier to his right.  Distracted by the wound, and perhaps fearful of joining his fallen comrade, it was his blow that came frantic and scattered this time.  His comrade, however, was brimming with righteous fury, tossing the sap aside in favor of a longsword.  He drew the blade in a great arc, slashing a deep wound in Kun’s leg.  “I’ve seen enough.  If this man is not a Lunatic, then he is a psychopath!  Forget capture, he ought to die!”

“Emlyn, no!  You can’t sink to this Lunatic’s level!” shouted the injured man… but their distraction was enough.  Kun withdrew his right hand from his pocket, tipping a vial back and gulping down the substance inside.  The wound in his leg closed, healing as quickly as though a spell had been cast upon it.

“Don’t try to hold me back, Tom!” he shouted, but the injured man had already grappled him, attempting to pin him down.  He forced his hands free again, glaring menacingly.  He almost seemed to be contemplating whether to attack him.

Once again grateful for the distraction, Kun stepped away, digging in his pockets and coming up with two vials.  He poured one into the other and tossed the concoction at the quarreling men.

Boom.  It hit the injured guard square in the chest just as the whole thing exploded, sending fire and shards of glass flying in every direction.  Having expected it, Kun had hit the ground in time to avoid the worst of it, but Tom, having taken the full force of the blast, was knocked to the ground, his body limp and scorched as blood pooled beneath him.  Emlyn, too, had been knocked back by the blast, badly burnt just as Tom was.  Though his pulse remained, he was in no shape to stand, let alone pursue the Lunatic.

As Kun stood, he saw the reinforcements pouring through the doorway.  His eyes darted around frantically for a way out, and finally fell upon a window.  He hurried toward it.  “Very well then.  It’s true, you know…  I am indeed a victim of Lunacy.  You should know, though.  It would seem I’m not the only one.”

He gestured to Emlyn with his sword hand as he pried the window open with his remaining hand.  He sheathed the sword, and before anyone could get a firm hold on him, he stumbled out the window and into the courtyard.

Introduction to the Broken Moon Project

One of my favorite things for quite a long while now has been tabletop gaming.  I've decided to create this new blog, Sweet Nothings Gaming, both as a place to catalog unique and amusing characters and campaign settings, but also as a place to host the Broken Moon Project, a solo campaign run using the Pathfinder system (albeit with a few house rules in play for the purposes of storyline flow).  This campaign is centered around Kun, a troublemaking elven alchemist, Halim, a naive prince driven from his homeland when his people reject his good-intentioned ideals, Helena, a half-orc cartomancer who has lived her life in human lands, and Bidelia, a cheerful yet mysterious kitsune warpriest with sometimes irresponsible tendencies.  It does not use the Pathfinder Society campaign setting, instead focusing on a world called Hifirn, created by the gods of the Nine Moons.