Character Sketch: Luna of "Regolithia"
An image I had when building a character for a Pathfinder game. I found myself playing this scene in my head, while I was at work, and the rules say I have to put it into text when that happens.
Words: 948
Fantasy/LitRPG
NSFW
CW: Noncon, GoT-style depictions of sexual slavery
If anybody cares about the nerdy details: Luna is a level one Neutral Evil Ratfolk Symbiat (a psionic gish class from the 3rd party Spheres of Power book). The session zero for the game led to the creation of a world where, for some reason, women outnumber men 4 to 1. Luna is a wannabe Genghis Khan, and so between the two ideas apparently the natural conclusion to that is "man-harems."
The sun was setting on the plains, and the border town of Rin had just begun to burn.
Luna stood at the edge of the growing conflagration, watching the flames lick higher as the residents of the town were led or dragged before her. Behind and around her were members of her war-band, hardened women from every known race and kind as could be found on the continent. She was far from the most impressive among them, four feet of mouse with gangly limbs and the sort of harsh bearing that could only come from a life in the Moonfall. However, among her fighters (and among the wide-eyed peasants being dragged before her) there was little doubt as to who it was that had led this raid.
Taking a step forward, Luna rested a hand on the pommel of her jeweled rapier. Then she began to speak. “Good people of Rin. A calamity has befallen you.” Waving a hand, she indicated the village behind the huddled mass that knelt before her. “Your homes lay in ruin. Your defenders are slain. Nothing shall remain of this place but farmland, and even that shall be taken by nature in time.”
For a moment, she paused. One particular face in the crowd, an elf who had only had time to get about half of her armor on before the attack, glared up at Luna with raw, unmasked malice. Of course, it was difficult to take such malice seriously, since Luna had ordered two of her strongest fighters to force her face down into the dirt and keep her there. It was a lovely image. Luna allowed herself to savor it a bit before continuing.
“You have failed. You have all failed. Had you the sense to accept my demands of tribute the first time, we would not have come the second. Had your defenders stronger arms they might have been able to repel us. But your sense was lacking, and your arms weak, and now our tribute has become plunder. More’s the pity for you, because when Luna of Regolithia takes her plunder, her terms are far more dear.”
Sacks were thrown at her feet. The town had few treasures, but when placed in a pile they formed a rather tidy bundle. Coins spilled out, goblets and tankards, jewelry of various states of opulence. In another pile lay a chunk of the harvest, enough food to feed the band for untold weeks. Finally came the greatest prize of all, being led around the edge of the gathering on long leashes. She beamed.
“Tonight, my warriors are well-paid. They shall sup upon your food, adorn themselves with their jewelry.” She made it a point to stare down at the watch captain, as she said the next part. “And tonight, the finest of your men will bawl and cry like schoolboys, as my band feasts upon their most sacred of vintages.”
With that, they were brought before her. About a dozen men, stripped down to scraps of linen or worse, each connected to the one in front and behind them by collar and chain. They were a motley assortment of men and elves and beastfolk, quite possibly the only men at the height of their virile ripeness in a town this relatively small. Several women in the war-band crowded around them. They wasted no time in getting a feel for their newest prizes, running their hands along muscles and testing the responsiveness of any members left exposed to the elements. Luna watched one particular man, a tall but scrawny minotaur, as his cock stirred into something almost categorically hazardous in size, even as he shrank away and wailed at being handled so covetously. She licked her chops and reminded herself that, as warlord, she had the right of first choice.
“As for the rest of you,” she declared, “you will find I am no butcher. My lessons are harsh, but so long as none of you take up arms, you will all survive them. Go now. Spread out across the plains and seek out your kinsmen in other villages. Tell all who you see about what has happened here today. In so doing, you shall spare the next town from my wrath. In time, I will be among you again. It is my sincerest hope that whichever town we descend upon next will see reason and choose tribute over plunder.” With that, she turned to the women behind her. “Warriors! Gather our spoils and make ready! We ride!”
A deafening cheer rolled over the plains. Scores of women, armor gleaming in the fading sun and growing flames. The clatter of hundreds of hooves. The lamentations of the villagers.
Luna stood at the front desk of the Adventurer’s Guild, while the two human women on the other side exchanged confused glances. The mouse was staring off into the middle distance, having finally wound down from the long, gory, incredibly detailed fantasy she had spent the last ten minutes or so ad-libbing. Her expression was faraway, eyes shining as her imagination danced with bested enemies and claimed men.
One of the women whispered to the other. She knew about all the kingdoms on the continent, and there was no place anywhere called Regolithia.
The second woman frowned. Then she looked to the crystal on the desk, which had recorded the stats of their newest Guild recruit.
The crystal still read: Level One
The second human cleared her throat. “Yes, well...” She reached under the desk and pulled out some paperwork for Luna to solve. “That’s all well and good, but when I asked about your goals, I was hoping to hear about your short-term goals.”