bloonewb

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

I'm fine with a time skip.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

"Out we go. Following?" Morgaine called out to Torquil. He stared worshipfully upon the lantern, reduced to little more than a stupor. "Hey," Morgaine said, trotting up behind him and laying a hand on his shoulder. "The old lamp'll be here come the day." That was as much as she can do for the poor fellow, if he can't snap out of that lamp's mesmerizing influence. If he stays much longer, he'll disappear too before too long, she reckoned. Like that other man, whose features she could barely get a glimpse of before he was gone. She turned and followed the church servants outside, but not before laying a hand on her heart and the other on the door. Touch the door before emerging into open air. Some gates are an illusion, and some doors are made of air, after all. A door must be solid to protect those housed within. Satisfied with her little ritual, she shrugged and walked out.

Yharnam was chilly, oddly so for a city so filled with fire. The cold feels almost malevolent, sapping at the heat and making the dots of flame in the distance flicker and weaken. A faint mist obscures the upper limits of the skyline, making the spires look as if they're somehow disconnected from the ground. Indeed, the dimensions of the entire city feel off somehow. Too gaunt, too lanky, if those words could even apply to building edifices. Grey bricks line the streets in big, uniform blocks, and Morgaine's country boots clop merrily over them with the sound of horse's hooves. Mayhaps on a sunny midday this place might even look beautiful, but everything about it screamed intimidation. What better place for the powerful Healing Church to seat its authority?

Morgaine continued to practice her motor skills. Walking she had almost gotten down, back to before the awakening. Jogging was a little awkward, catching up to the two church folk, but seemed natural enough on these uneven brick roads. Her arms were also just about ready to cooperate, though her fingers still felt a little stiff. She wouldn't be doing much in the way of needlework in this state.

"Lovely night we're having," Morgaine said, approaching Adelicia from behind and hoping she doesn't jump. "Brisk is the word. Better than rain at the very least."

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Will there be a place soon up ahead for the new hunters to pick up trick weapons?

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

"Right. Moving, eh?" Morgaine said, glancing between the two men. They both cut quite distinct figures, those two. Both looked to be in their middle ages, and covered in battle scars to boot. They must have seen quite a few hunts, then, judging by that. Elsewise, the two were like night and day. One was short, indeed barely taller than she was, with a face covered in a mess of black hair. A common man, by the way he was dressed and armed. He seemed kind enough, though she couldn't make heads or tails of what he was saying. The other was a tower of a man, looking straight down at her from his perch perhaps miles above. His facial hair was certainly well kept, brown rather than black and arranged into neat patterns like highborn girls would do with their hair. The rest was hidden behind a big stark white hood, and indeed his entire outfit reflected that blinding-silk aesthetic, not unlike those giant lumbering creatures that trot about these Yharnam streets, dragging axes easily twice her own length. Mayhaps this man here was almost one of them, but something went awry.

The lantern called to her silently, with its twisting rays of light that envelop. It granted her visions of a restful garden, swathed in peaceful white dreams and a grey overcast above. Mere moments, shards of images, but they implanted themselves deep within her. She almost shuddered at the sudden fear she had for the thing. It'll suck her right in before long, that thing. Like the other man. He'll be dead, most like, trapped within the lantern's little world. Her off hand fondled one of the charms hanging by her half-cape, one that warded against restraints. This'll not be her trap as well. The quicker they're out on the streets, the safer she'll be.

"Well, I'm ready if you two are. What do you say?" Morgaine finally said, giving the shorter man a look. "And them? Err . . . her?" she continued, finally taking notice of the woman minding her own business. A churchwoman, there's no doubt about it, the way she was dressed almost identical to the tall man. Wrapped up in her own reality, she was, not even taking notice of Morgaine as she had entered. "She a hunter too? Lead us all on if you please, churchman."

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

"Don't go standing up on my account," Morgaine said dryly, reaching out with a hand towards the fallen Torquil. "I'm no abbess. A noble lady neither. You?" Her other hand went to the brim of her hood, pulling it ever so slightly further down on her face, similar almost to the tipping of a cap. "Let me help you up." The other man said something she didn't quite catch, but she did hear the question that followed. She glanced back at him, then into the lantern, for a few moments longer than she would have if it didn't give off that intoxicatingly welcome glow.

"He jumped into the lantern, looks just about like," she said. "Fell asleep right there and disappeared right in front of me. I couldn't tell you how." Her eye was pulled back to the weapons that hung off these two men. A hatchet on the downed fellow, not much to say about that. Fit neatly in the hand, and likely wouldn't be much trouble to swing. The other man had something more dangerous on him; a big sword, something that looked like it could cut a straight line through beasts without stopping. "Well, don't be looking at me. I don't suppose the either of you have seen a man just vanish like that?"

A kings' political marriage plan- closed

Fetes and processions marked the passing of every hour here, it seemed. So soon after the last ended did a new one begin, with even more pomp and finery.

"Look at this wealth," Tellos said, having returned to Vyarin's side. "Imagine the silver it must have cost to arrange this party. With that same money we could hire tens of free companies from across the Zpina, entire warbands up and down the Three Great Rivers, and contract princes from every corner of the League, amounting to . . . hundreds? Thousands of able swords."

"Prozdy is at peace," Vyarin responded, gritting his teeth. Behind his rotted eye a dull pain throbbed. He could barely listen at all.

"Peace will not last. We have repelled the Western Overlords once; they will return. With such a show of arms, we needn't fear this second attack. Indeed, with such power, we could cross the Zpina and destroy their fortifications on the mountain pass. Then we shall rule in their lands, for a change." Tellos continued. If he was aware of Vyarin's annoyance, he made no show of it.

"Do you intend for us to capture the silverware, with which we may hire these swordsmen?" Vyarin asked, with a raised eyebrow. Of course, it mattered little, as the other eyebrow rested under a thick coat of cloth.

"If the knowledge Brudzkon passed to me is correct, the traditions of this kingdom are strange," Tellos said, after shooting his cousin a withering look. "The succession prefers consanguinity to strength. Daughters in this land are more legitimate than brothers with large retinues. The woman you were speaking with-"

"Annalise is her name," Vyarin hissed.

"I know," Tellos said. "She is eldest among her siblings, and thus the primary heir. Eventually, she will rule over her sisters as liege, if her sisters ever inherit parcels of land at all. Do you realize what this means?"

"That were this . . . 'alliance' to happen, you will be advising a woman on matters of war?" Vyarin asked, rhetorically.

"You already know," Tellos huffed. "I will write home to your father, detailing the options given to us, our clan. He will likely write back with commands. They are to be followed." With that, Tellos left Vyarin, ducking into a side hall in search of a local scribe. Vyarin grasped the cloth over his head with a heavy hand, stress pounding in his skull. Who was his cousin, or his father, or even his great ancestor Kremaze to dampen his new acquaintanceship so? He exhaled heavily through his nose and looked around. Nosy courtiers, as usual. Ever since Annalise pointed out their tendency for spycraft, he began to see it everywhere. Hushed whispers, sideways glances, a few words here and there traded as they pass each other. They were listening in on him. He looked around for her, then made a show of pretending not to. He had to get a grip on himself. Would she see this potential marriage in the same light?

A kings' political marriage plan- closed

I think that's for the best as well. Vyarin has nothing to do until the ball, anyhow.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Was Morgaine supposed to feel fear? There was a time, perhaps, wherein that would be the case. Watching a man simply disappear from in front of her, transmuting into nothing but air. However, her instincts have strangely . . . changed, since she woke up mere moments ago on that hospital bed. All she could feel was a mild curiosity as to where that man disappeared off to. In fact, the lantern itself was to her mind almost a familiar thing, like she knew how it functioned, vaguely, on an instinctual level. It gave off a bluish glow, which strangely seemed more a warm colour than cold. Almost as if to beckon wanderers and strange souls to its side, where they may rest easy.

Surrounding the lantern was a second room similar to the one she woke up in, but livelier by far. Unlike the first room, some people were awake, albeit huddled silently in their own respective corners, small and mute and closed off. Some bore the distinct signature of hunters, that being weapons. Well, in that case, she was in good enough company. Morgaine, after all, was now a hunter herself. There is a contract somewhere that says as much, though when she tries to envision herself signing it with that church man, her memory fogs over and details become difficult to pluck out. Was he a blind man, wrapped in bandages from the nose up? Was she a handsome woman with an oblong face, grim and wrinkled as a nun ought be? Was it a red-furred beast, enveloped in flame and sorrow? Everything is mere figments and shapes before her awakening.

"Oi. Top the morning," she says, breaking the silence in the room. They were hunters, these supposed companions, but didn't seem like they'd simply up and slaughter her where she stood. It was good to get the greetings out of the way now. The men of her village never hunted alone, and if she had any wits about her, neither would she. If she was going to leave her life in the hands of these strangers, she ought know their names at the very least.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Is there something perhaps my character could do that doesn't require activity on the part of other players?

A kings' political marriage plan- closed

I suggest changing the scene. I think we're all tired of the ballroom meet-and-greet.