The night of the hunt. Yharnam is now a blood war zone, overseen by the twilight sun like some harbinger of an ending age. Mobs of crazed townspeople roam the streets, no longer able to tell the difference between man and best. More and more fall to the curse of the old blood. Hunters speed through the city, taking as many beasts down as they can or go mad themselves from the hunt. In central Yharnam, a group of survivors find themselves out on the street for one reason or another and if they don't get their wits about them, the city will swallow them whole....

A smell of death and decay plagued the air, filling Max's nostrils and leaving a mark upon his tongue. Staleness and bitterness; this night would be a long and perilous one. The polished grey cobblestone could not hide the pale red light painting it a light shade of crimson. A moment of reflection upon the safety of his shelter suffocated Maximilian, making him curse every moment that led to the eventual stop of his isolation.

Just take step after step, you can not starve yourself in that villa.

Maximilian paced through the streets of Central Yharnam, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that these roads held fond memories but he could not look past the sickness that claimed all around him. He simply needed to find enough supplies to last him the night, that is all. He looked from window to window, hoping that he'd come across some food or water but no luck.

His exploration of the streets was put to an end when a distant trio of huntsmen were marching towards him but even a decent fencer such as he could not win a fight while outnumbered. Fortunately, they had not noticed him yet but there were few opportunities for a hiding place. The long street had been mostly houses and boarded up establishments. The few alleyways were all out of reach except for one but Maximilian could not risk it for there could be others hiding in there or perhaps something worse than huntsmen lurking in the dark alleyways, unreached by the moon's light. He dashed to his right, taking cover behind an upturned carriage with the hopes he would remain unseen.

"Damn poleaxe." William cursed, minding his surroundings as he crept slowly through the streets of the ruined city. Nobody would sneak up on him, and neither would anything. At least...not until he steps in something squishy and wet as flies zip upwards and the initial smell of rot intensifies.

Right, the dead horses. What the hell was the deal with this? Nobody ever came to clean these up. The horses guts clung to his boot, even as he lifted it up and struggled to fight free of the decaying matter.

But his attention immediately turned from the dead horse, forgetting it entirely, in fact, when he noticed a shift in the glow of flame light. A mob of huntsmen were walking down the road below him. Hunting "beasts," but these were no allies. The violence and horror of the night had already driven these men mad, or perhaps it was the blood. In fact, one huntsman's face was covered entirely with fur, two sharp teeth jutting out from his lower lip.

He set his poleaxe down and crouched as his heartbeat rapidly intensified. Before this moment, he had imagined himself appearing on the night of the hunt in Hunter's gear, slaughtering madmen and slaying beasts with impressive swiftness and skill. This ambition was absent at this time. He couldn't kill a full mob. This wasn't just some bar brawl, this was a matter of life or death. He took a quick check of his surroundings, to see if anything was sneaking up on him, then looked down the road at what the huntsmen were marching towards. He noticed a man. A Hunter? No. Hunters didn't carry mere rapiers.

@the red bear

No matter how hard Jasper struggled, he could not break free from his metal bonds. The onset panic after waking from his drug-induced slumber had worn off. He did not want fear to consume him as he stood helplessly exposed during one of the most dangerous nights in Yharnam, ever. No, the young chef has been in far worse predicaments than this. An idea will surely come to fruition, one that will spring him from this madness, so he can begin his own hunt for the bastards that did this to him. Jasper surveyed his environment. Tightly secured against the wheel of an abandoned carriage, all he could see was the windy road that looped over yonder. The old Victorian buildings and the gnarled trees around them cast eerie shadows, but as he stared deep into their black maws, no beast rose from the darkness. At least for now.

Jasper attempted another struggle. His chains clanged against the wheel posts of the carriage, ringing like little dinner bells. He froze at an unintelligible sound coming from the other side of the carriage.

"H-hello? Is someone there?" He gulped, closing his eyes in fear of the worst.

Karl was in a panic. Here he was, right in the middle of the street, on the night of the hunt. His family is safe at home, alas, but the incense is sharply limited and soon to run out unless he can navigate the mazelike streets back to his home. Why did he have to stay out tonight, of all nights? He vaguely remembered the evening. After a hard days work, the factory employees decided to celebrate the day with a drink, which Karl agreed to. One led to another, and the rest leading up to the present was a haze. He didn't know what made him snap out of the drink, but by then it was late in the night, and on the night of the hunt, too. Uneasily, Karl picked a side street that looked vaguely familiar and began walking in that direction. Maybe this would lead home?

The shadows that gathered in the darkness at the far rear of the upturned Hackney carriage that Maximillian had chosen as his hiding-spot seemed to shift, to stir, as if one of the bloated and monstrous carrion crows of Yharnam had made its home here and was about to heave itself bodily at the intruder. But no, it was merely the long coat of a dark-dressed man standing quietly with his back to the wall, as somber and eerie as an unmasked plague doctor.

"Hmm. You certainly did startle me." The words were barely more than a murmur, almost submerged beneath the cacophony of distant beasts and beast-hunters; but he didn't seem startled, not in the slightest. Indeed, his stillness and the calmness of his voice and half-shadowed face seemed positively unnatural, considering the chaos erupting around them. The scent of burning flesh and wood filled the air, thin eye-stinging acrid smoke hanging listlessly as if even the wind were afraid to move freely along the city's streets.

The man's eyes rested briefly on the flustered and fearful Maximillian before shifting once again to the moving figures slowly approaching their hiding spot and up the street towards a solitary figure wielding a poleaxe. "Be very still." Was he advising Maximillian, or speaking to himself? Perhaps it didn't matter, for the whispered words were equally as good advice regardless. "They will pass."

It seemed for a moment that he was quite set to follow his own advice and remain as still as a sparrow beneath the hawk's shadow until a sudden clanging sound echoed down the grimy cobbled street; jarring, sure to attract attention. And then, a voice called out - uncertain and nervous, not at all like the inchoate ramblings of the huntsmen.

The dark-dressed man froze still as he struggled to make out the source of this sound, eyes darting towards the trio of beast-hunters to see if they too had heard it; and the fingers of his left hand buried in his coat pocket tightened around something hidden there.

Tiana awoke with a pained start. Her whole body ached as if she had been battered with a giant hammer. Panic began to overtake her. Iosefka's clinic, had it been...? She shot straight up and winced at the pain, her eyes adjusting. She was on the balcony of some abandoned home, on the edge of central Yharnam. Tiana shivered as a cold and dead breeze blew through, a whisper of something much worse. Here she was, stuck out on the night of the hunt with practically nothing to defend herself with but...

A pair of scissors!?

The doctor sighed as she pushed her round spectacles back up the bridge of her nose and got to her feet. She had to get home, they had plenty of incense. After the hunt, she would report what happened at the clinic to the church. If she could get out of here. Tiana made her way inside, the dimness of the room jarring. She felt her way around until her eyes adjusted and noticed a staircase. Cautiously, she went up it, unsure of where she was in Yharnam. Every creak of the stairs were like a thundering blast and immense relief washed over her as she reached the top. Immediately replaced by fear. What had been the front door and porch on a central Yharnam street was now a broken, gaping hole. In the street, a dead werewolf lie, slash marks gently producing blood that ran in between the cobblestone pavement. Three tall beast-men stood over it, their arms elongated, their faces not quite human and not fully beast. They all turned to look at her. Tiana would have screamed if she wasn't so stunned at her own bad luck.

They charged. Tiana couldn't believe how fast they were, baring down upon her within seconds. She just had time to dive out of the way, her attacker bringing his dull axe down into the dying wood. The two others were upon her immediately. She barely evaded a direct sickle slash to the gut, instead earning a slash across her arm for her vigilance. The third one, armed with nothing but a broken club, bashed her in the gut and followed it up with a left hook to the cheek, sending her sprawling across the room. Tiana's head spun as she struggled to get a handle on the situation. The first beast-man had managed to yank his axe out of the floor and advanced with his compatriots slowly towards her. Her mind raced, eyes darting desperately around the room for a way out. Across the room, above a bookshelf, was a small window, most likely out in for ventilation. But it would be Tiana's salvation. She moved into a crouch and dove between two of her attackers, getting up and running as fast as she could across the room, jumping onto the bookshelf. The doctor heard the enraged shouts of the men, their weapons slicing wood and air. She scrambled up the bookshelf and through the window, hearing the men destroy the bookshelf in anger.

Luckily, they aren't very smart. But they are persistent. Tiana screamed as she saw a head and an arm with a sickle pop through the window, waving wildly. In sheer reflex and fear, she dug into her pocket and pulled out the scissors, jamming them directly in the beast-man's eye socket. It was enough and he dropped his sickle on the small roof where Tiana was hiding, his limp body sliding back through the window and tumbling to the floor. She was shaking as she looked at her hands, where his eyeball had exploded with blood. She wanted to cry. But crying would get her killed and she already made enough noise with this little skirmish. Blinking back tears and choking back a sob, she scooped up the sickle. Tiana re-adjusted her now cracked glasses thanks to a certain beast-man. Her face was sore and even though, thankfully, the cut was shallow, it still hurt like a bitch. Tiana quickly pulled out a small bandage and applied it. That would keep it from getting infected.

As she made her way down from the roofs to the street, she saw someone chained to an abandoned carriage. Carefully and quietly as she could, she made her way over and dropped down behind it. Although not quietly enough, because the voice of a frightened man asked "H-hello? Is someone there?". Tiana said quickly "Keep your voice down, we don't know what's lurking around here." She moved around the carriage and briefly glanced at the man. Young, blonde. She studied his chains. Rusty, old. Her sickle was in better condition, she began to test the distance by imitating a full force swing slowly. "Do you know who put you here?" she asked and with all her might, swung the sickle, shattering the chain that held him to the carriage. She did the same with other one. That had done a number on her weapon, but flesh was softer than metal.

@ROADWARRIOR

A woman called out to him, telling Jasper to quiet down. He froze, sealing his lips shut. She then asked if he knew who put him in such a precarious situation. Jasper was about to elate a sarcastic remark about being quiet, but her scythe swinging caught him off guard. He yelped in terror as the blade came down, fearing that his pitiful life would end on this god forsaken street in Yharnam. Fortunately, the woman had other plans. Jasper felt the joyous relief of freedom as the scythe sliced through the rusty chains holding him captive. He jumped to his feet and stretched his arms long and wide, welcoming the rush of blood circulating through his extremities once more.

"Thank you kind stranger. My name is Jasper, and no, I don't know the bastards who did this to me. Are you a hunter?" The blonde-haired chef stared at his rescuer curiously. She didn't look like a hunter. Was she young? Pretty? It was too hard to tell in the dark. Whatever the case was, she was capable of handling herself out here, alone. "We need to get out of sight!. Do you know of a safe place to take refuge?" He hoped her response was a definite yes, one that provided ample food and water. God, was he starving.

@The Dow Dragon

The adrenaline coursing through Maximilian's veins felt like it was working over-time as his heart pounded and his eyes seemed to get a bad case of tunnel vision as he peeked from behind the carriage to look at the approaching and growing mob of huntsmen as more of them could be seen coming down the street. There was a vague familiarity as Maximilian stared at them approach from the distance, perhaps once upon a time they were his neighbors. He took a step back however into the safety of the carriage's cover, being caught would lead to the worst of outcomes. As he turned around to observe the area around him, he noticed the darkness stir and his heartbeat seemed to stop for a solitary moment as silence filled the mind of Maximilian and he went to draw his sword. However everything quickly fell back into focus as the moving shadows revealed themselves to be a man in a dark coat. He took a deep breath and shook his head at no one in particular as Lucian spoke quietly to him, choosing to keep his silence while failing to share his new immaculately dressed acquaintance's calm.

However trying to keep the silence turned out to be for naught as a voice on the other side of the carriage made itself known. Maximilian was far too consumed by the moment to truly decipher who or what was trying to communicate but then another voice joined the fray and very quickly Maximilian's mind turned to panic as his hiding spot was gradually being made rapidly worse by factors out of his control. Eventually he snapped when he heard the sounds of breaking chains on the other side and heard the distant huntsmen growing more agitated and angry as the echoes from the carriage filled the street. He stomped angrily to the other side and very carefully peeked to take a look at who it was.

Two figures immediately came into view. A lady who appeared to be a doctor wearing glasses that had seen better days and a man who appeared to be a cook, perhaps even a chef. Max spoke in what could only be described as a 'whisper shout' to both the figures. "Are you both daft?! You've drawn them to us!" He pointed to rapidly approaching huntsmen from the now not-so-very-far side of the street. He peered at the mob that was drawing nearer and his heart sank. Vivid thoughts of his demise came flooding to his head as Max became visibly and audibly shaky. "If you don't wish to become new victims of this Hunt, you will follow me!" He raised his lantern and scurried towards the nearby alley that was behind the carriage, motioning for his dark-dressed acquaintance who had been hiding with him to join him while sparing no second to stop moving. As he was making his hasty escape, Maximilian turned the crank on his lantern, allowing it to light up before he went into the dark alleyway.

@The Dow Dragon
@ROADWARRIOR
@Blood Echoes

The street led Karl to another part of the city he'd never seen before. Angrily, he kicked a loose cobblestone. It clattered down the street and came to rest a little down the road. Why couldn't he find the way home? Then, in relief, he spotted someone familiar. True, he was looking away, and his coat was pulled over him, but the red scarf unmistakably marks him as Igor, a colleague of his.

"Hey!" Karl shouted, waving. "Hey!" The man turned, and immediately Karl knew something was wrong. Igor's face was contorted into an expression of rage, something never seen in the formerly quiet and cheery man. With a growl, he began slowly walking toward Karl, pulling from his pocket a long, wicked knife. Karl quickly fumbled about his own pockets and his hand closed around his gun. Whipping it out, he pointed the gun at Igor and shouted "No closer!" This made him stop, at least for a brief moment, but soon he began menacingly advancing in his previous manner. Seeing no choice, Karl turned his head away and pulled the trigger. With a resounding crack, smoke billowed out of the end and Igor fell, never to rise again. Karl looked at the corpse of his former friend in shock. What if someone, or worse, something, heard?

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the streets; it seemed to be close by, though Lucian was unable to tell exactly how close, or who had fired it. The quiet doctor had been safely tucked away in his little pocket of shadow for quite some time before Maximillian had stumbled along and ruined the whole thing. For almost an hour Lucian Dexter had stood silently and watched the patrols pace back and forth, back and forth, as if on some invisible timer ingrained into their increasingly addled minds. He'd had enough time to observe their appearance - bandaged faces hiding rotted eyes, too much dirty hair growing from the skin, some with left arms grown unnaturally long. The bodies that huddled against buildings and in the alleyways clutching at quicksilver bullets and vials that they would never use were - for the most part - the bodies of normal men and women, cut down as indiscriminately as the scourge-beasts. This was not the homecoming that the doctor had expected - the worst battle he had prepared to face was his aging mother's disapproval. It had seemed like staying hidden and waiting until morning was a marvellous plan, and one he was eager to pursue.

But all of that was out of the window now. Out of the window, sailing happily down the street never to be seen again. One must adapt in order to thrive, he supposed.

"Come along, then!" He scooped up the black leather doctor's case between his feet and strode purposefully (and rather quickly) to follow Maximillian, gesturing with a sweep of the arm for the bespectacled woman and nervous young man to follow. "Let's not keep the gentleman waiting."

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to try and determine how close the huntsmen might be and whether the two newcomers were set to follow, and then ducked quickly into the alleyway. The lantern put up little resistance against the darkness; its faltering light played across wet cobbles and the outstretched hand of a statue pinned between two tall narrow townhouses. "Have caution," he murmured, loud enough for nearby human ears to hear - but hopefully quiet enough that he wouldn't alert anything else. "if you see the shine of yellow eyes, stab first, and inquire later."

@bloonewb
@The Red Bear
@The Dow Dragon
@ROADWARRIOR