Dark Jack

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

White Church Workshop, Upper Cathedral Ward, high above western Yharnam

As Farren addressed the room, the room appeared quite content to demonstratively ignore him. One of the two male Hunters shot him a glance and frowned slightly before resuming his conversation with his colleague while snacking on the food in front of them, but besides that no one so much as spared him a glance.
No one but Victor, that is. Hearing Farren's voice, Victor turned around with a surprised expression before half-running over to the stairway and descending to the ground floor with them. He approached them with a crooked smile and a wave of his left hand, while his right was occupied by his silver small sword. He was quite overtly making a point of trying to avoid looking at Gerlinde.
“Hey! It's good to see you're still in one piece... though I suppose that's not actually all that impressive all things considered, eh?” He chuckled. “What're you guys doing here? What do you mean, 'this everyone?'”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Upper Cathedral Ward, high above western Yharnam

As they appeared on the bridge leading up to the Orphanage, it was ironically Gerlinde who ended up doing a double-take upon noticing the golden head that had replaced the lantern, though she, too, recovered and walked off before its eyes could fully form. Though Torquil awakened facing the plinth and the thing sitting on top of it, he was the only one out of all of them who barely spared it a second glance quite simply because he did not see any reason that it should be noteworthy to him.
He jumped a bit in surprise when Farren put his arm around him and reflexively pulled away a little – an action that, though subtle, would perhaps hint to Farren at just how much stronger Torquil had gotten during their short stay in the Dream, as it felt as though he could have broken free from his grasp with ease – but then relaxed and allowed himself to be led away.

Upon entering the White Church Workshop, Ophelia would likely notice several Hunters and clerics standing up from their seats, straightening their stances and reaching for their weapons upon, only to hesitantly relax again. Most of the Hunters were different ones than who had been here the last time, and it seemed that her suspicious garb and unusual weapon still attracted attention, though it also seemed that orders had been handed out to allow her entry.
Ophelia would not be able to spot Dietrich looking around the main room of the workshop, though she would notice someone else who also obviously noticed her. Standing on the upstairs landing looking down at her was a cleaned-up and redressed Victor.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Upper Cathedral Ward, high above western Yharnam

With a touch to the marker labeled “White Church Workshop” on the Yharnam Headstone, the four Hunters once more found themselves leaving their Dream and returning to the Waking World. And quite notably, Gerlinde had been here to light the lantern in the first place, Ophelia had traveled there by lantern before and Farren had seen the place as a human, so Torquil was the only one out of all of them for whom this was the first time seeing the Orphanage.
They all arrived on the bridge connecting the old Healing Church Workshop-tower to the base of the Orphanage, which still loomed over them as the great and awesome structure it was here at the top of the Grand Cathedral. The dead trees remained, stretching their gnarled and crooked branches over their heads like grasping fingers. The only real change from Ophelia's visit earlier in the evening was that the night had progressed, with the sun being but a memory at this point and the area instead being bathed in the pale light of the rising full moon.

But as impressive as the environment remained, the thing that was likely to first catch their attention now that all of them had memorized the Mask Rune, was the very object facilitating their arrival here. The gold plinth itself was unchanged from how Ophelia had first seen it, still holding the same imagery, but the gold lantern on top of it was gone. In its place was now what could best be described as a featureless golden mannequin head, with its neck-stump either standing on or embedded into the plinth beneath it, occupying the same place the lantern had once been.
The head itself was as motionless as the lantern that preceded it, but a second after awakening there, fissures seemed to spontaneously appear on its surface, only for the cracks to open up, folding the golden surface like skin, and reveal disturbingly human-looking eyes with golden irises inside. Four eyes appeared in total, one facing and staring directly at each of the four Hunters.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Yahar'gul, northwest of Yharnam

The lightbeast sat back on its haunches and seemed as though it listened intently to what Ophelia told it, then nodded its head. Leaning back even further and lifting its hands off the ground, the huge creature made a small, sweeping gesture with its hands, which bore a passing semblance to a feminine curtsy, before bringing one red-fingered hand, palm inward, up to its head.
Once more Ophelia would see Guidance sprites start appearing and accumulating around its hand, only for the lightbeast to lower its hand toward its chest... and, as it did so, it shimmered and disappeared. But even though no one else would be able to see or hear the faintest trace of it, Ophelia would still see the swarm of Guidance sprites that seemed to follow its invisible form as it moved out of the alcove and disappeared around the left corner, heading east.
Torquil, obedient as ever, uncritically accepted Ophelia's recommendation to be branded with the Mask Rune.

The Holy Moonlight Sword continued to whisper once it got Ophelia's consent: “Its other half is not in this city, nor is it fully in the Waking World. Just as it once was, its other half is in the Interstice... what you call the Old Labyrinth. It waits deep within, in places untouched by common Hunters... But you are Paleblood. You need not traverse the entire Interstice to get there. You can get there through communion, if you get the right holy chalice. The chalice you need is at the throne of this land. Getting it will be the first step to obtaining its full glory.”

Farren, meanwhile, entered through the gateway and crossed the threshold into Yahar'gul, the Unseen Village. Instantly upon setting foot on the first bit of cobbled road – for the path within the walls did indeed appear to be cobbled – even he would be able to plainly feel the atmosphere that Ophelia had caught hints off while she had worn the Dream Rune. A heavy, oppressive sense of tragedy and menace filled the air, weighing him down in a way he had never experienced before. Sound seemed strangely muffled suddenly, colors seemed bizarrely desaturated... and a strange, acrid smell wafted past him from sources unknown.
Before him stretched a wide, single street that seemed to just continue forever, seemingly running the entire length of Yahar'gul, flanked on either side by tall buildings of various shapes and make, all of them dark in color, making the environment look as though the gloom was even deeper than it was. But the atmosphere aside, there was no doubt even at a glance that something was deeply wrong here, as the sides of the street were lined with what appeared to be large, elaborate statues of misshapen humans. Humans with elongated arms, legs and necks, humans with mouths stretched unnaturally wide in silent screams, humans with eyes that were open much wider than they should be able to in the face of some inconceivable terror. Even just looking at them, Farren would feel as though he could faintly hear the echoes of their cacophonous wailing, the horrified cries of people helpless to escape the fate visited upon them.
And it was not just one or two in a few places; the statues were everywhere. All along the street, both in the middle of the road and in huge, tangled messes along the walls of the buildings, there appeared to be many hundreds of these unnerving statues. Looking to either side directly inside the gateway, Farren would find that the outer wall that he had just entered through had even more of them than anywhere else. The statues made it appear as though masses of people had tried to flee Yahar'gul and had come here, trampling each other and creating a pile of bodies that they tried desperately to use to climb the wall. Hands reaching desperately toward the top, faces petrified in agony.
There were so many screaming figures... and yet the place was eerily silent. Not even the wind seemed willing to disturb the perfect stillness this place.
Aside from the ridiculous number of statues, he would also see some weird plant life that was quite obviously not of the Waking World. Spread out with about fifteen meters or so between them, the street was flanked by some kind of... trees? They vaguely resembled trees, each one about seven meters tall with straight, lumpy trunks and topped with some kind of bulbous growth. They were dark red and black, and rather than having bark or leaves, they appeared disturbingly fleshy. As if they were some sort of creature only mimicking trees... or trees mimicking creatures?
But vitally, just fifty meters beyond the gate, he spotted the welcome and familiar sight of a lantern that could be connected to the Dream, right in the middle of the street.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Hidden alcove, outside the walls south of Yahar'gul, northwest of Yharnam

With the united efforts of Ophelia, Farren, Torquil and the lightbeast itself – which proved quite capable of handling its own restraints now that its hands were free – the remaining chains were quickly unraveled and both the stake through its feet and its chest were removed. As each great, sharp amalgamation of stone and steel was removed, the wounds they kept from closing seemed to regenerate instantly, and the flow of Guidance sprites ceased instantly. It also seemed quite clear that the beast grew more energetic and enthusiastic for each stake removed from it, moving faster and more eagerly.
Finally the last stake and chain fell away, and the lightbeast – for the first time in gods knew how long – stood up and stretched its impressive frame like a cat, first its forelimbs, then its hind legs. It occasionally made a delighted noise, almost like a trill.

As the stake and chain on the lightbeast's feet were removed, the fog wall quickly dissipated and left only an open gateway that appeared to lead directly into Yahar'gul proper. Gerlinde, who had spent the time leaning against the side of the gatehouse and twirling her threaded cane silently while attentively watching the lightbeast, seemed to perk up and leaned over to peek through it.

Within several seconds of Ophelia sending her message to the Shopkeeper, the Messengers returned with a reply in impeccable calligraphy:

Well done. Our apologies for what happened, but we have never seen a darkbeast fight like that.

The Shopkeeper's first message

A few seconds later another pair of Messengers arrived with another scroll:

Only Paleblood Hunters can enter the Hunter's Dream. While there are shelters for humans and Yharnamites, we fear that there is nowhere safe for a beast on a Night of the Hunt that we know of. Our best suggestion might be Old Yharnam.

The Shopkeeper's second message

In addition to all of that going on, Ophelia would also hear the whispers of the Holy Moonlight Sword while she was working: “The Huntress has defeated powerful prey. It senses her strength, and that of her allies. Her glory. It once more offers her guidance, and wishes to send her on a holy mission. To find its other half. Will the wielder aid it in this pursuit?”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Hidden alcove, outside the walls south of Yahar'gul, northwest of Yharnam

“Do whatever you want,” Gerlinde told Ophelia with a shrug, her eyes beginning to wander as the situation and conversation lost her interest. It was at this moment that the red blaze that had enveloped her threaded cane throughout the entire fight finally dispersed, leaving behind the weapon only slightly singed.
She turned to Farren and transformed her weapon into its whip-form. “I'm always ready.”

With Gerlinde standing by ready to attack at the first sign of hostility, Farren and – at Farren's request and instruction – Torquil set about trying to free the lightbeast's hands. It took a couple of minutes with how securely its wrists had been bound with the chain, but with combined efforts they eventually managed to loosen its bonds and to retrieve the stake. Through it all, the lightbeast simply remained still and watched in silence.
The holes through the creature's hands that had been kept open by the stake closed in an instant, and it slowly turned its hands so they were palm-up and brought them up to its face. It seemed to take a couple of seconds to just stare at its own disfigured hands, awkwardly clenching and unfurling its red, twisted fingers.

As the stake was pulled from the lightbeast's flesh, Ophelia would immediately see that the flow of Guidance sprites along the chain ceased, leaving the chain inert and eventually ending the curtain of them covering the entrance to the alcove. The illusion that had hidden this place for however long it had been in place, it seemed, had been dispelled.

The lightbeast sat up as best it could while still being impaled on the tombstone stake and having its feet pinned to the ground. It lowered its head, brought its hands together in front of its chest and folded its fingers in a strikingly familiar gesture, clearly resembling the traditional pose taken during prayer. Every movement made its joints creak and groan audibly, and thick layers of silt and dust that had caked on its hide during its long time being inert drizzled from its moving form.
It remained like this for about ten seconds, but while to most of them it appeared that it was simply offering up a silent prayer, Ophelia would once again see something else. As the creature prayed, first one, then two, then several motes of moonlight seemed to manifest out of thin air near it and be drawn toward its hands, where they started orbiting them, until dozens of them were swarming around its folded hands like moths around a flame.
Only then did the lightbeast unfold its hands and, very slowly and carefully, reached its right hand toward Ophelia. It extended its long, blood-red index-finger toward her, and all the Guidance sprites seemed to siphon into its fingertip, and all of them – not just Ophelia – would see it giving off a faint pale glow that was quite different from the warm one signifying its healing power.
It carefully tapped Ophelia on her forehead with the fingertip, and the light transferred into her, resulting in a very bizarre sensation for Ophelia as alien insight suddenly flowed into her. Knowledge of things beyond this world, of words and concepts beyond mortal comprehension... things she could barely wrap her head around, let alone reach any kind of sufficient understanding of. Yet all of it ultimately crystallized into its simplest form: a Caryll Rune.

Ophelia has obtained the Mask Rune, which allows one to see through all arcane illusions. Also makes you immune to eldritch influence.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Hidden alcove, outside the walls south of Yahar'gul, northwest of Yharnam

The lightbeast fixed its eyeless stare at Ophelia, leaning gently into her hand, and slowly nodded its head up and down. She could faintly see a shimmer of warm light momentarily in the creature's empty sockets and felt something like a warm caress crawling up her right arm, rejuvenating her and – she could tell – replenishing her regenerative potential.
A soft croon emerged from deep in the lightbeast's throat, and in tried in vain to move from the spot. It turned its head to the stake pinning its hands to the ground and whined.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Hidden alcove, outside the walls south of Yahar'gul, northwest of Yharnam

While Torquil tried to find a way to simultaneously puff out his chest in pride and awkwardly look away in embarrassment, Farren spent some time examining the remains of the darkbeast. The first and most notable thing he would find was that though the monster itself was dead, its remains appeared to still contain some faint remnant of life. Muscle-tissue remaining on the bones continued to twitch randomly and ineffectually, its heart and lungs kept spasmodically trying to preserve life in its undead body and, as he looked very closely, he would even find that the burns and cuts it had received in its last moments were still regenerating... just very, very slowly, at least by the standards of someone with the Old Blood.
As an undead beast, it appeared that even beheading the creature was not enough to completely extinguish the spark of life from it. But even if it still possessed some weak semblance of vitality, the fact that they had received blood echoes seemed to suggest that its mortal will had been vanquished, at least... and even with the incredible regenerative powers of undeath, it seemed incredibly unlikely that the darkbeast would be able to grow a new head on its body, or a new body from its head.
Aside from the still-living flesh and bones of the creature itself, the only potentially useful thing Farren would be able to retrieve from the corpse was the massive stake embedded in its chest. That particular stake looked like it would be rather large and cumbersome for something human-sized to handle, but it also looked like it – being a giant stone stake – could feasibly be used as a weapon somehow. Notably, the significantly smaller stakes in the lightbeast's hands and feet looked like they would be a much more manageable size.

Gerlinde, meanwhile, seemed fairly unmoved by everything that had just happened, but merely turned to the lightbeast while idly brushing off the ash of her own burned-up skin off her right shoulder and arm. The lightbeast kept its head raised, much more attentive now than previously, and seemed to turn to look at whoever was speaking at any given moment.
“What about this one?” Gerlinde asked, pointing her threaded cane at the beast. “Do you want to kill it, too? That might be faster than breaking the chain, and I bet it has some pretty powerful blood echoes too. Or are we just leaving it here?” Her tone suggested that she was personally more interested in killing the creature.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Hidden alcove, outside the walls south of Yahar'gul, northwest of Yharnam

“Never tried,” Gerlinde replied to Farren's inquiry. She started reaching for the tube of quicksilver bullets on her hip, but stopped when she heard Ophelia's battlecry and realized that others were already moving against the darkbeast.
Ophelia arrived and started carving into the darkbeast's face with her arcane blade, gushing blood from the creature as its charred bones crumbled under her strikes. Perhaps half a second after her – arriving after Ophelia only because he had opted not to quickstep to get there – Torquil ran to the right and back of the monster's head, and immediately chopped at its neck with his axe, the only way he knew how: with every ounce of strength he could draw from his bulging muscles.
Both the Holy Moonlight Sword and the Hunter's axe cut deep, and the darkbeast trembled under their assault. Anyone paying attention might notice a faint pulse of electricity through the chain connected to the stake through the darkbeast's chest, but they ended up just sparking uselessly at where the chain had been severed, never reaching their intended target.
The darkbeast hissed and gargled, its entire body trembling. Nearly all of its fur had been burned away by the red lightning, and it was clearly struggling to produce even the faintest voltaic charge at the moment. Each swing of the blade of the cosmos left gashes in its flesh and bone that still healed, but did so discernibly slower with each passing second.
Its hind legs kicked uselessly in the silt and its shaky front claws tried in vain to drag it toward where the lightbeast remained staked to the ground. The lightbeast, in turn, raised its head for only the second time since they had arrived at the alcove, turning its empty sockets toward its dark and menacing companion.
Ophelia slashed, Torquil chopped again, and the darkbeast collapsed once more. Its wounds, which had once regenerated as fast or faster than they could inflict them, were no longer healing. It convulsed weakly on the ground, with no strength left to resist.
Then Torquil chopped a third time, and its head tumbled off its shoulders and landed at Ophelia's feet.

Ophelia, Farren, Torquil and Gerlinde all suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of something weightless and invisible coming to envelop them, and all of them except Torquil would likely recognize the sensation as that of the blood echoes of the fallen clinging to them. Except feeling, even for those familiar, was far more intense than they had experienced before.

Ophelia and Gerlinde has received 600 blood echoes.
Farren and Torquil, under the influence of the Heir Rune, have received 1200 blood echoes.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Hidden alcove, outside the walls south of Yahar'gul, northwest of Yharnam

While Gerlinde casually leaned on the staked-down lightbeast and twirled her fiery cane, and Torquil collapsed his axe back into its shorter form and successfully retrieved the Loch Shield, the darkbeast remained focused entirely on the Shopkeeper.

The darkbeast swiped again, but the Shopkeeper took a swift and carefully measured back so that its claw missed them by a hair's breadth, only for the Shopkeeper to immediately step back in while spinning the Burial Blade over their head. The great scythe came down vertically on top of the darkbeast's skull, piercing deep into it. It was a wound that one would assume to be lethal to any ordinary creature... but Farren especially had already witnessed a Hunter survive something similar when he had plunged his Blade of Mercy into Skinner's forehead.
Indeed, the darkbeast wasted no time retaliating with another red-glowing explosive slam of its claw. This time the Shopkeeper did not have time to conjure an Effigial Loch Shield to protect themselves, so even as the silt was blown into the air in another dust cloud, they were thrown backward and out of the obscured area by the force, where they ended up rolling an extra meter or so, now unarmed. The darkbeast followed with a fierce snarl, pouncing on the caretaker of the Dream with both claws extended, but again the Shopkeeper managed to roll out of the way in the last moment and get back on their feet.
Raising both hands over their head, the Shopkeeper summoned another weapon with a blue flash: something that looked like a pair of simple, a large wooden wheels connected by an axle, only with the rims of emanating an ominous dark-red arcane aura in the form of what appeared to be human skulls. They slammed the Logarius' Wheel down into the darkbeast's head as it advanced once again, and the wheels appeared to spin violently on their own, carving into the monster while radiating dark, baleful spirits.
Instead of trying to evade or defend itself in any way, the darkbeast repeated the maneuver it had just failed at and brought both of its hands up behind the Shopkeeper, dug its claws into their back, and pulled them in close to its face. The Shopkeeper allowed their wheel to vanish, only to immediately summon a beast claw and use its power to partially transform into a beast themselves, after which they started viciously clawing at both sides of the darkbeast's head at the same time.
Meanwhile the darkbeast seemed to just stand still, just allowing itself to be shredded... except that while its body held still, its lightning was moving. The red glow wreathing its form migrated toward its front, leaving first its hind body dark, then the rest of its torso, until all of its light seemed to focus into its hands and head, each of which now gave off a blindingly bright glare.

There was a powerful sound so deep that none of them could hear it, but everyone felt it rattle their very bones, just as they could plainly see the shockwave sending an obvious ripple through the silt across the entire alcove. Though the light was concentrated entirely on the Shopkeeper, anyone within twenty meters of them would easily be able to feel the heat wafting past them, as if someone had just opened a pressurized furnace.
Then the darkbeast collapsed limply where it was, black smoke rising from its claws and head, and all its electricity gone. The Shopkeeper was also gone, however, and in the place they had stood but a moment ago the ground had turned to glass.