[h3]Back room, Hunter's Clinic, somewhere in Yharnam[/h3]
Torquil did not know how to react or feel when he heard someone enter the room beyond the one they were currently in, when they started destroying things in there or when the hoarse man on the other side of the door spoke. And he [I]certainly[/I] did not know how to react or feel when Ophelia slammed the butt of her spear into the floor, marched right up to the door and readily started antagonizing the one on the other side.
Part of him was horrified, of course; it sounded as though there were quite a few people out there – at least half a dozen by the sound of it, counting the normal speakers, the hoarse guy and the grunty-breathy one – , they sounded hostile toward the Healing Church, and at least one of them sounded big and heavy. Torquil, Ophelia and Farren were outnumbered two to one or more, and all they had to defend themselves were the meager arms stowed away for unknown purposes. And Ophelia just immediately started threatening these potentially dangerous entities, sounding almost [I]eager[/I] at the prospect of fighting them; a fight he and Farren would get dragged into whether they wanted to or not.
But another part of him applauded Ophelia's actions and sympathized with her fervor. The tremors through his muscles, the rage in his chest and the hunger in his belly all came to the forefront of his consciousness, and a foreign lust for violence possessed him. Though it did not negate the dread that still gripped him, it felt like the fear almost sweet and alluring. The adrenaline he felt through his terror was intoxicating.
He nodded his head again at Farren, and gripped his axe tightly with both hands, ready to use it.

A pause followed Ophelia's words during which all that could be heard from the other side were the muffled sounds of angry voices and furniture being smashed, along with the constant presence of the deep, ragged, grunting – now almost [I]growling[/I] – breath. The speaker muttered something in a language none of them could understand, but which felt oddly familiar to Ophelia.
“Brave Hunter. Good,” the hoarse man finally said, his words accompanied by a faint rustle of cloth and a jostling of the servant's bell. “Need Hunters. Need brave. Open door. Come. If no open door, we open door. No fight, no hurt. If Hunter fight... very hurt. Need brave, not stupid.”