He tore out his eyes but he could still see it

And it could still see him

-scrawlings of an unknown survivor of the Mad Moon incident

The compact estates of the riverside district made for ample cover. Gaspard was not fool enough to travel in the open now, with his arm still healing. He kept to the narrow passageways between buildings, slinking through abandoned halls when he could, and retreating to safety at the first sign of trouble, as he did now.

Nothing of the creature was discernible from this angle other than its bulk. Gaspard had ducked into the antechamber of a long-abandoned estate and, rather comically, had hidden behind the curtains. It was hardly ideal, but there were only so many places to hide on short notice, and most of the Moon-crazed monstrosities weren’t clever enough to notice anyway.

The titanic shadow passed, and Gaspard poked more of his head through the curtains. Shambling footsteps eventually faded into silence, and Gaspard finally felt safe. He took one quick look around, just to be sure, and then stepped out of his hiding place. He was not immediately ambushed by some bloodthirsty beast, so he was off to a good start.

Keeping low and slinking between shadows whenever possible, Gaspard left the home and headed back into the streets. Gaspard was unsure of his next targets exact location, but he knew he was in the right area. He wasn’t too far from his old workplace.

The bank where Gaspard had once counted the coin of far richer men was only a block or so away. He would go there eventually, for reasons of practicality rather than sentimentality. While Gaspard could recall from memory where the painter and the preacher had lived, and he had a vague idea of the astrologer’s residence, the locations of other targets on his list were unknown. Thankfully they were all part of the same wealthy noble circles. The bank had records on all of them. Once he had settled with the astrologer, Gaspard would pay his old workplace a visit and find his next target.

For now, he focused on the current hunt. He knew the astrologer lived close to the bank, in the nearby estates, but he did not know which estate specifically. While some of the houses had nameplates or elaborate statuary declaring the owners, others had no such markers. Some, though, had some more subtle indications of who the master of the house was. Gaspard looked up at the balcony of a nearby home and saw a large telescope leaning over the railing. A not so subtle clue that an astrologer resided within.

Gaspard tried the door, and found it locked. The fact that it was locked was no surprise, as Gaspard had seen many locked doors -most of them swinging off their hinges after a ravenous mob had torn their way through. For some reason the Moon-maddened mob had taken special umbrage with those trying to hide. This one, though, they had left intact, and mostly alone. Where other homes had corpses piling up in the streets outside, the presumed home of the astronomer seemed almost pristine.

After a quick glance up and down the street, and some deft shattering of glass with the pommel of his sword, Gaspard ducked through a now-broken window. Once inside, it became clear his assumption was correct. The study he’d stepped into bore a large star chart on one wall, with most of the stars labeled and bright lines connecting every constellation.

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For an added layer of verification, Gaspard flipped open one of the journals laid out on a large drawing desk. The astronomer’s name was signed within it, and within almost every book in the room. There was no doubt that this was the astronomers home.

Knowing his target was near, Gaspard proceeded more carefully than before. While the odds were not in favor of it, there was a chance that the astronomer had been corrupted just like the painter. If the sun cult’s teachings were true, and the Mad Moon’s mutations were drawn to wickedness, then they might find no better target than the astronomer. He, of all the targets of Gaspard’s rage, bore the most blame. He would have been the first to conceive the great lie, after all.

Gaspard tempered his anger with caution and stepped forward slowly. With a hand ever to his blade, but an eye always on the exit, Gaspard ensured he was equally prepared to fight and to run. More so to run. Gaspard didn’t want to risk confrontation in his injured state, but there was always the chance he would get cornered.

Room by room, Gaspard proceeded through the house, carefully checking every corner and every nook and cranny. The home was oddly pristine. Many wealthy figures like the astronomer had spent their efforts in their last days concocting elaborate balls and feasts for the Lunar Festival. No such revelry had taken place here. It was oddly austere, even dusty in places. It looked as if it had been stripped and mostly abandoned long before the Mad Moon’s rise. There were a few scant signs of habitation, but not many.

As he picked his way through the astronomer’s residence, Gaspard did avail himself of some of the astronomer’s implements of choice. A single handheld spyglass as well as a pair of binoculars. Useful tools for one who intended to scout his foes from a distance. Gaspard tucked the various viewing implements into his pack and continued his search for the master of the house.

With every room cleared, Gaspard turned his attention to the one doorway he had yet to walk through. The balcony on which he had first seen a telescope was before him, just beyond a door with an elaborate stained glass element. The inlaid pieces of colored glass depicted the solar system rotating in perfect harmony around the sun. Gaspard noted that the small silver disk representing the moon was shattered. Whether that was intentional or some manifestation of the Mad Moon’s power, he would never know.

Gaspard turned the brass knob and pushed the door outward slowly. It creaked slightly as it swung, but the noise drew no unwelcome attention. Gaspard gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles cracked and stepped through. He found no monsters, but the Mad Moon had left him an equally grotesque surprise.

In a comfortable lounging chair, head craned towards the sky, was the corpse of what Gaspard could only assume was the astronomer. He had to assume because there was nothing left of the face to identify. Every identifiable feature had been flayed off, with scraps of his skin and muscle torn to narrow strips and blasted backwards as if by great force, stretching back across his skull and against the chair behind. The bare bone of his skull was tilted slightly upwards, held in place by the taut muscles that had fused to the chair behind him. Two barren eye sockets, empty but for the blackened coals that had once been the astronomer’s stargazing eyes, looked curiously upwards.

An astronomer to the end, Gaspard thought. He had spent his last moments looking up at the astrological phenomenon of a lifetime -the Mad Moon. He hadn’t looked away even as it killed him. Gaspard almost respected the dedication.

At the same time Gaspard wondered what the astronomer might have seen. Did he realize something through his doomed examination, gain some insight into the twisted nature of the Mad Moon? What had he seen that would cause such gruesome disfiguration?

Gaspard did not trouble himself with such thoughts for long. There would be no answers here. The astronomers horrific death had robbed them of that -though it gave Gaspard some satisfaction. He could cross another name off his list.

Onward to the next.