[h3]Black Church Workshop – Farren and Seven (Collab)[/h3]
"Regrettable, but not an uncommon outcome," Seven nodded, showing no signs of any kind of emotional reaction to the news. "You've worked with me in the past as a contractor, though it has been some time since we had our last interaction."

Farren nodded slowly, glancing away for a moment, the slight smile remaining before he directed his attention back to Seven. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Ah, that explains the strange familiarity. How long since we last spoke?”[/b][/color] He asked, clearly curious.

Seven shrugged. "A couple of months? I'd have to check the logs to give you an exact time."

Farren drummed his fingertips against the butt of the blunderbuss at his hip for a moment. It wasn't why he'd came, but he did wonder what had been so severe that he'd undergone blood ministration.... Perhaps it was worth looking into? [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Would it take terribly long?”[/b][/color] He raised a single eyebrow as he asked, his azure eyes searching Seven's.

He made a noise that sounded vaguely like a half-hearted attempt at an extremely brief laugh as he stood up, went to one of the cabinets behind him and started tracing his finger rapidly over the spines of a pile of small notebooks piled in there. "If you have to ask, you really have lost your memory." Within eight seconds, Seven picked a book, which he brought back to his desk, opened and started reading, his eyes flitting rapidly across the pages while he leafed through. All in all the process took maybe fifteen seconds. "Here it is. Farren. 78 days ago. Were to investigate claims of a siderite rock having been found. Claims determined to be false."

Tilting his head at the man's response, Farren quickly realized why the man had seemed amused by the question. Everything was--apparently--meticulously organized, Farren admired that. He decided he liked the man. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Huh. Odd,”[/b][/color] Farren said with a measured manner, as he considered the documentation. After a moment he shook his head, his eyes focusing, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Anything...out of the ordinary about the last time we spoke?”[/b][/color]

"You'd be better off asking someone else for that," Seven shrugged, snapping the notebook closed. "I don't really do people, and this was a while ago. Although..." He paused. "I think I recall you seeming a bit more on edge than the other times I've seen you. Nervous. Anxious, even."

Farren nodded again, his eyes scanning the room once more. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“If only I knew who to ask.”[/b][/color] He said it ruefully before pivoting to the reason he'd come in the first place, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“That aside, I heard you've got something of a new trick weapon laying around,”[/b][/color]

"A new trick weapon? Who told you that?"

Farren met Seven's eyes, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Moira.”[/b][/color]

Seven closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Did she perchance say which weapon?"

Farren got the impression that perhaps Moira gave information like this a bit more liberally than Seven would prefer. Nonetheless, he replied, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“No name, but she did say it was experimental...too dangerous for a normal hunter to wield.”[/b][/color] Farren didn't elaborate on why she would have said that to [i]him[/i] however. Clearly they'd just been associated through work, so while Farren rather liked the man by first impression, that didn't mean he needed to give him more information than necessary.

"Too dangerous... Ah." He opened his eyes, leaned back in his chair and took off his monocle. "Fulmen. The Thunder Hammer. We only just got it fixed up since the last round of testing, we haven't managed any meaningful adjustments yet... May I ask why Moira thought you were fit to handle a weapon too hazardous for other Hunters?"

His expression became slightly more serious as he responded, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Paleblood.”[/b][/color]

Seven stared at him. "I don't know what that means."

Farren blinked once, then laughed at himself. Could that be called hubris? Perhaps he'd just assumed that since he knew...no, he shouldn't have. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“I suppose I shouldn't have assumed. Simply put...you kill me, I'll be back here in less than five minutes asking for Fulmen again. It'd be...an exceptionally unpleasant, but ultimately minor, inconvenience for me.”[/b][/color]

Seemingly completely unsurprised and unimpressed by Farren's claim of immortality, Seven simply nodded. "Ah. Like that. That makes sense."

He stood back up from his chair. "Fulmen is our attempt at making an improved version of Archibald's Tonitrus. It's a hammer that autonomously generates an electrical charge each time you make a forceful movement with it, like striking something. This charge builds up the more it moves, and dissipates when it doesn't. It also has a mechanism that bares the core of the weapon and discharges all of its energy at once."

He glanced at one of the cabinets. "We have a log of prior tests with it, if you are interested?"

Farren was actually rather glad that Seven took the new information in stride. Equally glad that he hadn't tested out his claim, for while it was true, Farren didn't much fancy dying if it could be avoided. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“It sounds...effective. Though, I imagine with so much voltaic energy sparking about it's liable to shock the wielder.”[/b][/color]

It was a theory of a sort and when Seven mentioned the logs, Farren nodded, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Probably wise for me to give them a read at least,”[/b][/color] he replied.

While going to retrieve the log, Seven offered some assurances: "Of course we were aware of that risk. We have made efforts to isolate the wielder from the weapon. The handle is wrapped in isolating materials, and there is a small guard that serves to further separate its mechanical parts. But there is still risk."

He retrieved another small notebook, walked over and placed it on the table in front of Farren. "Go ahead and read. I will go and retrieve the weapon."

With that Seven left the room, and as if on cue, this was the time a trio of Messengers abruptly emerged from the tabletop, brandishing the Blades of Mercy that Ophelia had sent for him.

He listened to the details and accepted the logbook, nodding as Seven left the room. However, the small sound of the Messengers' appearance drew his eyes down. He smiled and bent down, giving them a quiet thanks before he asked if there was any difference in the information they had on the armament compared to the one on his person.

For the weapon the Messengers had just brought him, the description they offered was the same he had read when he first claimed the weapon. The Blades of Mercy he had been carrying with him, however, now had a somewhat different description, and even a slightly different name.

"Effigial Blade of Mercy
An approximation of the true Blade of Mercy created by the Moonborn Hunter.
Splits into two when activated. They are made from a material not of the Waking World, and their nature defies explanation."

As Farren compared the two armaments his brows rose in surprise. He certainly hadn't expected much from inspecting them...and he hadn't gotten much more information exactly, but the revelation was still surprising nonetheless. Again he thanked the Messengers, then he rose to his feet with the true Blades of Mercy in tow. He set True Blades of Mercy on a worktable beside him before he flipped open the logbook and began to ploddingly make his way through each entry.

He wasn't a faster reader by any metric...especially since he often had to read a sentence more than once to ensure he hadn't flipped any words or letters around. It was a frustrating process, but he felt it was an important thing for him to understand the risks and quirks of this 'Fulmen'.

[indent][indent][quote=The LogBook][HIDER=Test 1: 1-3 swings (subject 1: lupine scourge beast)]The first few swings with the weapon seemed to build a relatively negligible charge, though the lack of effect may owe more to the toughness of the subject than the efficiency of the weapon. The third swing marked the first time hits on the subject produced visible electrical sparks. Triggering discharge produced small visible burst of lightning, visibly searing the fur of the subject near the area of impact. Subject seemed bothered but undeterred.[/HIDER]
[HIDER=Test 2: 4-5 swings (subject 1: barely wounded lupine scourge beast)]First three swings repeated the pattern from first observation. At the fifth swing the head began to continuously scintillate in a manner similar to that of a charged Tonitrus, possibly denoting a similar level of charge. Hits caused the subject to visibly flinch. Triggering discharge resulted in an electric burst magnitudes greater than the first one, throwing sparks up to half a meter (20 inches) from the head. Subject was physically repelled and appeared stunned for several seconds, possibly owing to parts of its musculature being temporarily paralyzed. Flesh appeared visibly burnt near the area of impact. An additional two blows left the subject incapacitated after which it expired in a matter of seconds.[/HIDER]
[HIDER=Test 3: 1-5 swings (subject 2: lesser giant, AKA “troll”)][url=https://bloodborne.wiki.fextralife.com/file/Bloodborne/Brick_Troll_Header_Full.jpg?v=1502807706052]Subject 2[/url] proved somewhat more resistant to the first three hits with the weapon than subject 1, likely owing to its larger physical bulk and protective fatty tissue. Blows did not seem significantly more effective than those of a mundane blunt instrument. Fourth blow made the subject shy away in intense pain, and the fifth blow incapacitated the subject entirely. On request, the wielder triggered discharge into the subject's head. Resulting blast of comparable magnitude to that observed in test 2. Subject's hair was lit on fire and third degree burns were inflicted to the targeted area. Subject twitched briefly upon being hit by the discharge, but then ceased all signs of life and was confirmed to have expired.[/HIDER]
[HIDER=Test 4: 6-7 swings (subject 3: lupine scourge beast)]The first five swings reproduced the results from prior tests on subject 3, confirming the results as reproducible. Sixth and seventh blow intensified the scintillation of the head significantly, and the seventh blow seemed to momentarily daze the subject, the combination of blunt force trauma and electrical shock possibly causing cognitive difficulty. The wielder reported feeling a faint vibration in the handle of the weapon after the seventh hit. Triggering discharge produced a sound almost reminiscent of a muffled clap of thunder as well as a bright flash of blinding light that made estimating the range of the effect difficult. The subject appeared to expire instantly, though its remains continued exhibiting random muscle-spasms for approximately ten seconds after death. Subject was propelled several meters away by the discharge, and area of impact was charred almost to the bone.[/HIDER]
[HIDER=Test 5: 1-12 swings (subject 4: superior lupine scourge beast, AKA “cleric beast”)]Weapon taken in use against high-threat target, with additional Hunters as support. First six blows seemed almost entirely ineffective, though earlier tests suggest this has more to do with the resilience of the subject than with the weapon. Seventh and eighth hit caused a reaction in the subject, triggering mild spasms in muscles near the area of impact. Ninth hit caused the subject to start ignoring all other Hunters and focus on the wielder. Tenth hit seemed to momentarily stun the subject, and left a burn-mark on impact. Eleventh hit was predictably even more effective than the previous one, but unexpectedly caused the scintillation to increase to the point where sparks successfully overcame the the countermeasures for the protection of the wielder, occasionally electrifying them. Twelfth hit caused the subject to cry out in pain and, remarkably, seem to start retreating from the wielder. Wielder was at this time being almost continuously electrified by the weapon, making combat obviously challenging. The weapon was observed to produce an audible continuous hum in addition to the sound of jumping sparks and appeared to be visibly vibrating.
At this point the wielder ignored requests to hit the subject again, opting instead to trigger the weapon to discharge once the subject was in range. All crew present, observer and Hunters alike, were temporarily deafened by the resulting boom, and bloodstains found on Hunters indicate that anyone within a dozen meters needed to regrow their eardrums. A scorch-mark measuring about three meters (9' 10”) in diameter was found at the location of the discharge. The wielder was badly burned and charred, with both hands appearing to have been effectively disintegrated, and only barely survived the ordeal. The weapon was severely damaged upon recovery and required extensive repairs before further use. Subject appeared to have been slain instantly, nearly all flesh having been stripped from its torso while the rest of its remains were charred almost beyond recognition.[/HIDER]
Conclusion: The Fulmen unexpectedly appears to build up charge exponentially rather than linearly. The first several swings receive negligible benefit from its electrical accumulation, whereas subsequent swings become significantly more damaging, eventually building the charge to unstable levels.
It is [I]highly inadvisable[/I] to perform more than ten successive hits with the Fulmen without discharging the weapon. If more than ten hits are made, discharge should [I]not[/I] be triggered; the charge should instead be allowed to dissipate naturally, preferably somewhere it does not endanger anyone else.[/quote][/indent][/indent]
While Farren was reading, Seven returned with Fulmen in his hands and waited patiently for him to finish.

As Farren read through the test logs, his frustration gradually ebbed away, replaced largely by fascination. He didn't know much about voltaic energies, but the fact that they'd made a weapon that so effectively harnessed them was impressive. More impressive was just how effective it could be and how the growth of its exponential charge didn't immediately cause negative effects for the wielder. Still, in reading through the logs it became very clear why the weapon was experimental and generally unsuited for use by 'normal' hunters. After longer than it would've taken Seven to read--perhaps an extra 4-5 minutes--Farren glanced up and over at the man. His eyes lit upon the weapon immediately, fixating as he tried to take in every detail of the impressive piece of artifice.

Much larger and more cumbersome than the relatively refined Tonitrus, the Fulmen takes the form of a hefty maul with in a weight-class just below that of a [url=https://bloodborne.wiki.fextralife.com/file/Bloodborne/Ludwig039s_Holy_Blade.jpg]Holy Blade[/url], with a shaft measuring 150 centimeters (4' 11”), though only the two-thirds of the shaft qualify as a handle, as the remainder is wrapped in metallic coils that connect to the head of the weapon: a plain-looking, bulky metal cube wherein the mechanical aspects of the weapon are contained. The head itself weighs close to 15 kilograms (33 pounds), rendering it unwieldy for a human, but for most part being somewhat manageable to most Hunters, though torque on swings is still a major concern. The box is visually marked by fissures that run parallel to its edges, basically dividing the cube into eight smaller cubes of equal size centered around the core. The wooden handle is wrapped a thick layer of cloth, and a small, circular wooden guard marks the transition between handle and coiled shaft, with this guard likewise being covered in cloth and additionally treated with beeswax in an attempt to insulate the wielder from the weapon.

[hider=Fulmen - Rough Depiction][img]https://i.imgur.com/8YySjBO.png[/img][/hider]
Farren's eyes slowly roved over Fulmen's structure, noting each individual piece. He wondered what the internal mechanism--its core--was like, how they'd constructed it exactly. Turning, Farren fully faced Seven, his eyes still locked on the weapon as he spoke almost as if he were enraptured. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Can't remember much from...before, but...I'd always wanted to design weapons like these...”[/b][/color] he said, trailing off as he reached out, offering for Seven to hand the weapon over. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Never thought I'd be able to wield one...let alone any I could get my hands on,”[/b][/color] he finished, one corner of his lips quirking up slightly. Finally, he raised his eyes, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“May I?”[/b][/color]

Seven unceremoniously handed Farren the large, intricate hammer. "That's why I fetched it."

Farren chuckled and took it eagerly, not stumbling forward, but certainly feeling the weight of the hammer as it dragged his arms down a few inches before he got a handle on it. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“You work on this one yourself?”[/b][/color] He asked as he tested its weight a bit, but didn't swing it, just lifting it a bit with both hands and eventually letting it sit against his shoulder.

"Intermittently," Seven told him. "It was a collaborative project. Unfinished in my opinion. Needs more adjustments before it's ready for deployment in the field."

Farren nodded, giving the weapon another appreciative look,  [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Understandable. If the logs are anything to go by it's quite formidable. Solid work.”[/b][/color] That said, Farren knew he couldn't easily carry it on his person...not with his current setup at least. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“You give me one of them notebooks and something to write with...I'll record what I can, though I'll warn you, I'm better with a blade or a hammer than I am with a quill 'n' ink.”[/b][/color]

Seven nodded his head and went to fetch the supplies from one of the cabinets. "Normally we'd assign an observer or two to field tests like this and [I]they[/I] would be the ones to record it, but that isn't really an option with you. Our people can't teleport, after all... they also only get to die once. It's not ideal, but if Moira thought it was a good idea..."
He turned back to Farren and handed him a tiny notebook - small enough to fit in his pocket, containing only what looked like twenty pages or so - , a bottle of ink and a dip pen. "Anything else?"

Farren accepted the notebook, pen, and ink bottle with a small nod. After a moment he frowned slightly and set them on the table beside him next to the Blades of Mercy. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Think I might need...another pouch for these. Aside from that...no, unless you're at all familiar with the Industrial Ward?”[/b][/color]

With an overbearing sigh, Seven went over to the door that led back to the main room of the workshop, opened it and shouted: "Do we have an extra pouch somewhere?"

Without waiting for a response he then closed the door and turned back to Farren. "What do you want to know about the Industrial Ward?"

While they waited for someone to hopefully bring a pouch, Farren mulled over Seven's question, responding briefly afterwards. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Headed that way with Moira earlier and came upon...some disturbing signs. Some of the workers we spoke to mentioned 'the Crowmother,' some kind of avian beast that has been protecting the area apparently. Any clue what that's about?”[/b][/color]

"Crowmother? Can't say I have." He picked up the old test log for Fulmen and returned it to its place in the cabinet. "Don't have much business in their ward, we just send them money and they send us wares. There are no beasts in the Industrial Ward, so no reason for our people to go there."

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“Hmm, no matter. Wonder if there's someone who might know more about the situation thereabouts,”[/b][/color] Farren said, his brow creasing slightly. After a moment he levered the Hammer from his shoulder, slowing the speed of its swing as it came down in an arc, before gently resting it against the ground with a dulled [i]thunk[/i].

Quietly, Farren muttered something under his breath, directed at the Messengers, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Hold this for me, little ones.”[/b][/color]

A Messenger showed up in response to Farren's request, seemingly examining Fulmen as it towered over its diminutive form. Then another two emerged, then another four, so that seven little Messengers all crowded around the experimental weapon, grasping at it with their little hands... until finally the telltale rippling glow appeared beneath it, and the hammer smoothly descended into whatever place they went when in the Messengers' care.

"Probably the people who live there?" Seven suggested, his tone somewhat impatient and sarcastic. "It's not a place... we..."
His words trailed off as stared blankly at the large marvelous weapon he had just bestowed on Farren that, from his perspective, simply sank into the ground and vanished.

"If you can do that," he asked after taking a moment to absorb what he had just witnessed, "why do you need a pouch?"

Farren glanced at the ground where Fulmen had vanished, now in the diligent hands of the Messengers, before looking back to Seven. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“For something large...it makes sense to call upon the Messengers to...hold things for me. Sort of intuitive, carrying too much? Ask them to do it for you. For something smaller...I hadn't considered it honestly. I...only became a Hunter barely two hours ago. You're right though...still, an extra pouch could be helpful.”[/b][/color]

That said, Farren picked up the bottle of ink, the dip pen, and the notebook and knelt down to one knee. Setting them aground with a whisper of encouragement to the helpers, Farren glanced at Bulwark at his hip, unslung it from the loop and set it on the floor beside the other implements. Then he pushed back to his feet and picked up the True Blade(s) of Mercy and slipped it into the loop that Bulwark had once occupied. He now had two pairs of unified blades, one at each hip. After all...four blades were better than two, right? He almost chuckled at the absurdity of the thought, though it had a note of seriousness to it as well.

"Right," Seven muttered, not even pretending to understand or agree with Farren's logic, let alone this eldritch power of his. A moment later the coded knock could be heard on the door, Seven declared that the one on the other side might enter, and a man in black church garb entered with a somewhat ratty-looking leather pouch. It was definitely not small, being large enough that you could probably fit an entire human head in there, and it looked like it had already seen its share of adventures, but it was functional as a container.

"Anything else?" Seven asked once the helper had delivered the item and left.

Farren took it, glancing it over for a moment without giving Seven a response. He had the sense that he'd soured any potential camaraderie that might have grown--at least for a time.

Farren's eyes rose away from the bag to meet Seven's gaze. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“No. Good tidings and if you go out...safe passage, Septimus,”[/b][/color] he said before his right hand went down to the grip of the Effigial Blade as he opened the door and headed outside.

Once he'd navigated through the workshop beyond Septimus' private workspace and found his way back outside, he heard the reinforced door shut behind him. Not glancing back he headed towards the lantern, but as he grew closer to its ghostly light, Farren found himself glancing at the stone wall and its metal gate that enclosed the yard. He came to a stop before the lantern then, his eyes flitting away from it and up to the slowly rising moon.

He pulled in a slow deep breath of the night air, not sure if he were enjoying it for its own sake or steeling himself for what awaited him in the Hunter's Dream.

Gerlinde. Her face came to mind, first the waifish one he remembered, faintly sunken cheeks, plain features, closed eyes. However, he could hold that faint, unanchored memory in his mind's eye for only several moments before the vivid image of her almost too-perfect form asserted itself in his mind. Farren found his jaw tightening then, and his brow creased as his face screwed up into an almost pained expression.

She didn't know him. Perhaps it was the memory loss...same as he had, perhaps she'd never really seen him to begin with. Really it had been...foolish to think she'd remember at all, especially given what little he knew about becoming a Hunter. Still.... The not remembering almost disturbed him more. Had some part of him wanted to be held accountable? To make amends even. He sighed. It didn't matter. He should go back...he'd said he should.

Farren's eyes drifted back down to the lantern, he let out a sigh and then he reached down, ready to return to the Nightmare from which he'd come.