Purify the heart and soul, children. Leave no corruption for the Moonlight to take hold of, and you shall survive where the impure fall.

-Mother Superior Violette, in a sermon to her followers

The sound of singing distressed Gaspard as much as any bestial howling or bloody gurgling. A man, from the sound of it, was currently bellowing a religious hymn at the top of his lungs. Gaspard crept closer to the source of the singing, though not too close. Every beast within a mile would likewise be drawn to the cacophonous voice, and Gaspard had no desire to be at the heart of that feeding frenzy. He found his way to a nearby rooftop and tried to scout out the source of the song.

Gaspard had great difficulty tracking the voice, at first. It echoed off every wall and resonated through the streets, a siren call for every abomination in the city. Eventually, Gaspard turned his spyglass towards the city outskirts. The madman’s song was coming from a portion of the city that had caught fire during the festival. Most of the spires still stood, but crumbling masonry and collapsed roofs were visible even from a great distance. Gaspard ran a hand through the coarse hairs of his beard and wondered what madness would drive someone to sing a church hymn in such circumstances.

As the sound of lurching footsteps sounded from the street below Gaspard, he chose to lie low for a moment. As the footsteps faded, Gaspard peeked over the edge of the roof and caught a glimpse of a massive creature hobbling its way towards the singing. One of many monstrosities headed that way, without a doubt.

As the song continued, and the procession of monsters followed it, Gaspard contemplated how best to make use of this odd distraction. For the time being, the streets would be clear of monstrosities. Gaspard was not yet fighting fit, but he might find himself an advantageous position to hunker down and finish his recovery while gathering more information on his enemies. As he contemplated his course, the singing stopped. For a moment, there was silence.

Then there was a thunder so loud it shook the earth below, sending tremors through the building Gaspard stood on. He nearly toppled over the edge, and fell to his knees for safety, clutching the tiles of the rooftop even as they came loose under his hands.

The thunderous tremor passed as quickly as it had come, and when he found stability again, Gaspard looked back to the burnt spires. They were no longer there, and a cloud of dust was rising in their place.

After finding his way back to solid ground, Gaspard found his way towards towards the dust cloud. By the time he reached it, most of the obfuscating dust had settled, but a low haze still hung in the air. Gaspard appraised a pile of rubble, and the bloody limb which dangled limply from it.

As the pile of shattered masonry still settled, some noise was inevitable, but Gaspard still recognized the telltale gurgle of misshapen abomination when he heard one. He put a hand to his sword and crept closer to the sound, until he could barely make out the shadowed shape of a monstrosity’s disfigured head, poking out from beneath the rubble. It struggled in vain to free itself, letting out low, pitiful groans as it did so. Gaspard drew his sword.

Before the blade had even left its scabbard, a dull crack rang out, followed by the sickening gush of a crushed brain and burst blood vessels. A heavy mace fell upon the head of the abomination in a hammer blow, crushing it like a grape beneath the weight of solid steel. The mace drew back, extricated from the skull with a stomach-turning sucking sound, and swung back to its resting place on the shoulder of its wielder.

A cold breeze blew through, and cleared enough of the dust for Gaspard to get a look at the killer. They wore the heavy plate armor of a crusader, and a tabard marked with the emblem of the sun. They shouldered their over-sized mace and appraised Gaspard from behind the metal wall of their helmet. After a tense silence between the two, the crusader let their weapon drop to the ground, leaning on it like a cane. Gaspard likewise lowered his drawn sword.

“It is good to see another man of purity,” the crusader said, as he saluted Gaspard. His voice echoed within his helmet, giving his voice an odd, tinny quality. Gaspard looked at his tabard, then back up at the helmet.

“One of the sun cult, I presume?” Gaspard said. “I should tell you I do not share your faith.”

“Faith is not purity, my friend,” the crusader said. “Were it so, many of my fellow worshipers would yet live. But they are gone, and we remain, because the light within us burns bright enough to cast aside the Moon’s darkness.”

Gaspard looked down at the crushed skull of the abomination at the crusader’s feet. While the crusader’s helm and hands were clean, his boots were coated to the knee with grime and blood.

“Were many of your church lost?”

“Of all the gathered, only I remain,” the crusader boasted. “It is a shame more could not echo my purity, but virtue flows from one’s own heart alone.”

He pressed his gauntlet to his chest in what Gaspard assumed was a religious gesture. He had never understood the cult, nor any of their followers. In so far as he could tell, they were made up of those too fearful to let go their inhibition and partake in the Lunar Festival, preferring to cling to some sort of faith that might save them. The cult had arisen in a matter of mere weeks, with no consistent message and few figures of authority. Gaspard could not imagine their threadbare faith surviving such horror as the Mad Moon, much less to motivate a man to use himself as bait and then collapse part of a city in a trap for beasts. It seemed a plan equally as likely to kill the crusader as any beasts.

A thought occurred to Gaspard.

“If you will indulge me for a moment, sir, but it has been too long since I looked another good man in the eye,” Gaspard said. “Could I trouble you to remove your helmet?”

With a nod, the crusader obliged, pulling away the layer of steel that hid his face. He was a rugged man, perhaps some kind of fighter or laborer in his life before the Moon, with a broad chin. On his face was a wide, bright smile -a smile that seemed to be held in place with pins. There was no sincerity in his smile, only a quiet desperation. It was the madcap grin of a man who had to smile, because all else he could do was weep. Gaspard nodded in return.

“My thanks, and my apologies for the trouble, however brief,” Gaspard said. “I shall leave you to your work, as I attend to mine.”

The crusader replaced his helmet, masking his forced smile once again. Gaspard wondered if the smile lingered once it was out of sight. He tried not to ponder it and took a few steps away.

“Light go with you,” the crusader said. Gaspard paused both his pace and his thoughts for a moment.

“And with you,” Gaspard said.