[h3]Back room, Hunter's Clinic, somewhere in Yharnam[/h3]
Again the hoarse man seemed to grow more annoyed at Farren's question, and again he grumbled something in a foreign language.
“Corval talk to –” he began, only to end the already broken sentence with another word none of them understood.
The beast-man, baring his teeth in an impatient scowl, supplied in a deep, menacing growl that was barely interpretable as human-like speech: “Soulkeeper.”
“Yes. Corval talk to Soulkeeper,” the hoarse man corrected himself. “Corval say Soulkeeper want Hunters. No know. No ask.”

Beyond the doorway there was a particularly loud crash of something particularly heavy crashing into the floor, causing a deafening noise of numerous glass vessels being shattered. Several of the men out there laughed, though at least one of them sounded somewhat angry and distressed.
“No! Those were blood vials! The good stuff!”
Prompting more laughing followed by the sound of more furniture being knocked over. Through the now-open doorway, Farren would be able to see two figures passing from left to right: two men that looked entirely human, with neither the elongated limbs nor deteriorating eyes to suggest the onset of beasthood, dressed like common Yharnamites. One carried what appeared to be an old cavalry saber, while the other went by with a long break-action rifle on his shoulder. For all intents and purposes, these men looked no different than your average huntsmen out fulfilling their civic duties on a night of the hunt.
It was difficult to be certain as to the exact numbers in the next room without visually confirming them, but they were not exactly trying to remain undetected either. He could hear at least five distinctly different voices, and the noise of their vandalism suggested no more than half a dozen.

The hoarse man sneered. “No more talk. Bad here. Hunters come, no hurt. Hunters no come, very hurt.”