Somewhere in Yharnam, west of the Hunter's Clinic
Other Yharnamites scampered about around Corienne, some moving slowly and cautiously across the slanted, tiled rooftop, afraid of the ten-meter fall should they slip, while others ran and leaped to get by faster, their movements hastened by the fear of what was to come. Corienne herself had been one of the first huntsmen on the rooftop, allowing her the priviledge of taking up a kneeling position close to the ladder they had used to ascend, minimizing how much she had to risk the difficult terrain in the fading twilight of this evening.
She clutched the rifle in her hands tightly, nervously shifting her right hand up and down as she debated how close to the trigger she wanted to hold it. She was accustomed to its weight and had practiced shooting with it, but she had never been in a situation quite like this. The bell had rung; a Night of the Hunt had arrived. She had shot beasts before, certainly, but how different was a Night of the Hunt? Already she had heard the howling in the distance, chilling her to the bone... so many beasts. And out of all of them, the church had called upon her to hunt
this one? It had to be a bad dream, it just had to. Had Yharnam truly restored her health only to demand her life?
Below in the cobbled street more huntsmen were running around in hurried preparation, some handing out weapons and blood vials as more and more volunteer huntsmen joined their group, taking up guns, swords, axes and whichever other weapons they could get their hands on. Among this crowd of twenty-something, however, two stood out: two figures in
white, both of them in stark contrast to the surrounding huntsmen in their apparent state of calm and confidence. Hunters, both wielding silver swords, though with different accents for the weapons on their backs, with one wearing an
incredibly over-sized metal scabbard and the other a
sizable slab of chiseled stone. They simply waited down there, eagerly glancing down the street connecting with the one they occupied in a T-intersection.
Corienne did not like Hunters; they were almost closer to being beasts than they were to being human, with speed, strength and powers of healing beyond even Yharnamites like her, who were only empowered by “normal” blood ministration. She had seen them fight before and knew how fearsome, bestial and literally bloodthirsty Hunters could be.
Their presence made her anxious... but not nearly as anxious as what she knew was coming.
Even before their hasty preparations were finished, with some huntsmen still receiving weapons and finding their places in the waiting formation, a terrible wail pierced the rattle of their movement, far louder than any other beast-howl of the evening yet. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and turned their attention down the street. Up on the rooftops, Corienne and her fellow riflemen raised their guns and took aim.
In the ensuing silence they soon started to hear the faint, rhythmical thuds of several heavy things hitting the ground repeatedly, recognizable to veterans like Corienne as footfalls... only of something that was not bipedal. Each footfall was a little louder, a little closer than the last, though Corienne's effort to listen for them was rewarded with another shriek, so loud that it was painful.
It was then that three figures appeared at the far end of the street everyone were looking down, some fifty meters from the intersection, sprinting as fast as their legs would carry them around the corner and toward were everyone was waiting. These three were also Hunters, Corienne knew; one in the garb of the White Church, and two wearing
black. She did not like the Black Church, though somehow it was hard to hate them, too; she could understand people – as far as calling Hunters “people” was still justified – wanting to be treated better, and she could respect wanting to eradicate the scourge of beasts, but they were just going about it the wrong way, using swords instead of scalpels, killing as their first and last resort without concern for public opinion or ethics. Still, she was happy they were here... to have between her and the thing following right behind them.
Mere seconds after the trio of Hunters appeared a fourth form entered the street, barreling in from the side with incredible speed, smashing into the building forcing them to turn so hard that the sound of cracking stone and shattering glass could be clearly heard even from this distance. The giant, hairy creature swiftly extracted itself from the building it had just clumsily collided with, leaving the entire side of the structure in ruin, before turning and following the Hunters, moving with surprising speed and agility for something its size on its hands and feet. Huge teeth and claws, a head adorned with something akin to warped and twisted antlers... the creature they called the ultimate form of beasthood: a
cleric beast.
She licked her lips and swallowed, her mouth dry as an instinctive tremor went through her soul at the sight of this most fearsome monster. She heard someone to her right whimper, and the clatter of a rifle tumbling down the slanted roof. The air smelled tart with sweat.
A thunderous explosion shook the building under her feet as a cannon on the ground fired down the street, the recoil causing the huge gun to roll back into the building behind it as its projectile hurtled down the street, going over the heads of the three approaching Hunters and straight at the beast, who had no way of dodging. The entire left side of the creature's body jerked with the punch of the cannonball, a spray of blood and fire scattering where bone and flesh was stripped off its torso. The cleric beast only stumbled for a couple of seconds before picking its speed back up, however, as the wound regenerated at a rate that made even blood healing seem impotent. A deafening cry caused the windows beneath Corienne to vibrate in their frames as the creature, now even more enraged, rushed at them with mindless fury.
Corienne pulled the trigger of her rifle, adding the boom of her own gun to the scattered cacophony of gunfire ringing out among them, pelting the beast with quicksilver bullets before they had to reload – shoving prepared packages of gunpowder and quicksilver into the intended slots – before being able to fire again. They, being mere Yharnamites, did not have the bloodtinge to empower quicksilver the way Hunters could, but the sheer force of their rifles and the innate toxicity of quicksilver should still at the very least inconvenience the beast a little.
By the time Corienne brought down the barrel to fire another shot, the beast had already reached the intersection, faced with more than two dozen armed men and women, five of which were proper Hunters. The three that had drawn the beast turned once they united with their allies, and all of them presented a united front.
Another staggered peppering of shots rang out from the rooftops, with shots growing less and less synchronous as the different efficiency in reloading became a factor in timing. The huntsmen below charged at the cleric beast along with the two black-clad Hunters, and chaos ensued. Crying out in rage and agony, the beast reaped its giant left hand across the area, sending huntsmen flailing to the ground, bleeding profusely from gashes left by its murderous claws.
The creature barely seemed to notice the huntsmen slashing, stabbing and clubbing at its lower body and seemed even less bothered by the gunfire from above, and seemed to be massacring them with laughable ease. The Black Church Hunters, meanwhile, maneuvered carefully in their assault, avoiding the wide swings of the monster to get close enough to get a strike in, only to immediately retreat to a safe distance to look for another opening. The three White Church Hunters only attacked once most of the huntsmen had been incapacitated, either dead in the street or frantically administering blood vials to themselves, leaving it finally facing off against all five Hunters at once, while being continuously harassed by the rooftop marksmen.
It was powerful, though; insanely strong, much stronger than anything Corienne had ever seen. Though the Hunters used their ability to quickstep to evade most of its attacks and endured the hits they took by demonstrating regenerative powers on par with the monster's own, it soon became clear that this battle of attrition was not going in their favor. Fewer and fewer shots were fired from the rooftops as ammunition was spent, and with each blood vial the Hunters had to inject themselves with they grew more hesitant and cautious, whereas the cleric beast's rage only seemed to intensify. Even with fur matted with blood from countless punctures and cuts its fury seemed undeterred, driven only more and more deeply to kill and feed to replenish what was spent to heal its wounds.
One particularly quick overhead smash of the beast's fists caught one of the white Hunters by surprise, flattening the poor man into the shattered cobblestone underneath. All four remaining Hunters distanced themselves from their adversary, staring incredulously at the motionless form of their comrade partially embedded into the street. Worse still was the fact that they were all out of breath, their strength nearly spent, needing to recover for a moment before they could continue to draw on their superhuman power.
The cleric beast was not going to allow that, however. Claw, teeth and rage came at them relentlessly, forcing them to spend whatever strength they had left to evade its attacks just to survive. Corienne fired another shot before reaching for another pack to reload, only to discover that she was out. No more shots sounded from the rooftops, and the surviving Hunters were too wary to face the beast directly. It was hard to comprehend how this had happened, but it almost seemed like a certainty that they were going to fail to bring the beast down, even with this much preparation.
Corienne blinked, momentarily confused as she saw a blur of movement from the right side of the street, only to realize a second later that another Hunter had joined the fray from behind the cleric beast. Clad in a
strange tattered, armored black garb, this Hunter brandished a huge-looking, cumbersome spear-like contraption, which was promptly thrust into the lower back of the monster... only to give off a bang like a gunshot as the mechanism of the weapon released, propelling the spear all the way through so that it protruded from the beast's belly.
Letting out a furious howl the cleric beast spun around, turning its ire on the new arrival. This newcomer let go of the spear and slipped backward, immediately going to the incapacitated Hunter to snatch up their silver sword before turning back, seemingly waiting for the beast to reach them.
The beast thrust its giant left hand at the Hunter to grab them, only for the Hunter to simply step aside – not even quickstep, just a normal human motion – before slashing twice at the extended arm with their sword, cutting deep enough to cause the other to recoil in surprise and shield its wounded left arm with its right hand. The Hunter took this opportunity to run in close, once again without expending power on quickstepping, and delivered a vicious slash to each of the creature's thighs, causing it to fall over forward far enough for the Hunter to reach and plunge the sword into its throat.
With the beast reeling from the amount of damage it had just taken the Hunter retreated several steps, now empty-handed; it took Corienne a moment to realize that the Hunter had left the silver sword stuck in the throat of the beast. They quickly reached into a pouch at their waist to produce a bottle with a bit of cloth sticking out of it, easily recognizable as a molotov cocktail, which they swiftly lit aflame with a handheld flintlock before casually hurling it at the creature, causing its entire front torso to burst into flame. It tumbled away from them, screaming and flailing its arms as it desperately tried to beat away the searing pain that enveloped it.
The Hunter turned to their four allies, all of which had seemingly been left dumbfounded by how events played out and just stared at this solitary Hunter nonchalantly taking on the beast that had nearly wiped out their entire party.
“Go on,” a hoarse woman's voice called out from the figure as she stepped back further, crossing her arms in front of her as she looked expectantly from the Hunters to the beast. “Finish it off; you need to get stronger. I won't always be around to save you.”
The woman reached to her waist once more, detaching another two weapons – a
saw cleaver and a
blunderbuss - from there to wield but seemingly remained in a passive stance.
With an eager nod the two Black Church Hunters charged the cleric beast anew, whereas the White Church Hunters hesitated once more.
“You too,” the female Hunter urged them. “Go on. Surely Dietrich'd be furious if this kill gets claimed by us?”
That seemed to get the white Hunters moving, too. The fight did not last long after that; the cumulative damage from the punishment it had received earlier and the decisive blows dealt by this woman seemed to have depleted the beast's regenerative powers, causing its healing to slow and its wounds to persist. Soon the creature was weakened enough that it could no longer resist, allowing one of the white Hunters to step in and, with their right hand transforming into something entirely inhuman, plunge one arm into the beast's skull to rip out a piece of its brain, killing it instantly.
Corienne let out a sigh of relief, setting aside her rifle and clenching her hands into fists, willing herself to stop shaking. Smiling, she turned to say something to the huntsman next to her... only to find no one there. Not just next to her, but that entire side of the roof – previously occupied by at least a dozen huntsmen – was empty, aside from an abandoned rifle here and there.
Her eyes widened in surprise as her mouth opened to say something, but just as she did
something slid across her right cheek, slipping over her mouth and silencing her cry of distress. Fingers – inhumanly strong and long, with dry, foul-smelling skin – grabbed her head and pulled her backward, where she found herself enveloped by equally long and strong arms clad in tattered gray cloth. It was hard to imagine that the smell could get any worse than the hand clutching her right beneath her nose, but it did: a horrible odor of rotting corpses and bile, intermingled with a relatively pleasant scent of soil.
Another hand raised slowly in front of her, its skin gray and pockmarked, its dimensions absurdly long and thin. It held the short handle of a small brass bell between its index-finger and thumb. She felt breath, cold and wet, on her left cheek as a hoarse voice spoke in her ear:
“It ends.”
The bell rang softly once, twice, and the world faded from sight... as Corienne and her assailant seemed to simply dissolve into the gloom and disappear.
