Dark Jack

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

I think I'm going to aim for five or six people to show interest before actually making the proper RP thread and possibly start working on an opening IC post to set the scene for at least some of the characters. I could go with fewer, but experience has shown me that you're lucky if half the number of people showing interest actually end up joining the RP, so if anything I'd be inclined to have more.

Even so I really hope people are interested in this. I'm personally excited by the idea and eager to set my plans into motion.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Those weapons are canonically unique in the physical world, yes, so Hunters almost certainly won't be able to obtain them there... but there are ways to get them in other worlds or in the labyrinth. For most "starting weapons" - that is, for Hunters who are not (false) Paleblood Hunters, who wake up with nothing - I would definitely prefer if people stuck with more basic or faction-specific weapons, yeah.

(Within reason, of course. Factions like the Fire Dancers or the Harrow, for instance, who fight other Hunter factions even when it is not a Night of the Hunt, might have come into possession of other factions' weapons. In contrast, it would probably be very unlikely for an Executioner to take up the weapon of a Vileblood, or vice versa.)

The selection will expand as the RP progresses, but for the beginning I would prefer to keep things like that.

EDIT: As one might guess from the above, (false) Paleblood Hunters will probably have an easier time getting their hands on "unique" weapons since they are able to move between worlds much more easily than others.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Hello, and welcome to the interest check for my new Bloodborne RP that I plan to start pretty much as soon as I have a feeling that we'll actually have players to populate it. I have been a huge fan of Bloodborne since it came out, first of its gameplay and atmosphere and later of the world, lore and extensive theorycrafting going on around it, and have been wanting to do something with the setting for years. And now I will.

This RP is going to take place about five years after the events of the game, at least initially in Yharnam, and is going to allow for the freedom to explore the world of Bloodborne and an amalgamation of theories I have collected and come up with on my own. Things are going to get grotesque, dark, violent and overwhelming for the characters as they are pitted against the scourge of beasts, monsters from other worlds and others of their own.
It is a Night of the Hunt unlike any before it, and terrible things are going to happen. Survival is... unlikely. Try to stay alive, or at least kill some beasts before you die.

So, I present to you:

Night of the Hunt

IC

Introduction

A Hunter once read this note after waking from a fitful sleep, disoriented, confused and sweaty from the nightmares they just endured, freshly infused with their first dose of Yharnam blood. Their memories were fuzzy, and most of them were gone, washed away by the dread and euphoria of the transformation. They knew they came to Yharnam to be cured of a malady that threatened their life, but beyond that? Nothing seemed to matter. They were a Hunter now, on a Night of the Hunt. They remembered speaking of Paleblood, and this note reminded them that it was their mission - their purpose - to search for it.
What they did not know, however, was that the note was not meant for them, but for the blood minister. The Paleblood he sought was no eldritch secret, but rather the affliction that brought the Hunter to Yharnam. The Hunter did not seek Paleblood; they were Paleblood.

It has been five years since the fateful Night of the Blood Moon. No one from the outside can truly claim to know what happened during that long night, and very few Yharnamites remain with life and sanity intact to tell anything but snippets of what happened. All that is truly known is that thousands died, and that beasts ruled on that night. Yharnam was rebuilt and repopulated, but the scars never truly heal.

One can only hope that the city has healed enough to withstand the trials of the night to come.

Beasthood

The crux of the problem, the end of civilizations, the reason for creating Hunters and the thing that nearly destroyed Yharnam five years ago: the scourge of beasts. Man-eating monsters possessed by inhuman strength, speed, regenerative abilities and bloodthirst, the worst beasts are living nightmares far beyond the abilities of normal people to fight... yet the power they wield and the danger they pose are not the true thing to be feared.
“...We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood. Our eyes are yet to open..."
The scourge of beasts is not an ephemeral presence of monstrous creatures that appear out of nowhere; in truth, the scourge of beasts is a disease... an infection that corrupts the bodies and minds of its victims from the first time they receive the Yharnam blood. From the moment they feel the euphoric stupor of the Old Blood the first time, every person is destined to one day lose their mind and transform into something... else. A bloodthirsty beast, thinking their fellow men nothing but a source of sustenance.

One thing all beasts have in common is their adverse reaction to the incense of the Healing Church. This incense, which is one of the only things known to be able to mask the intense stench surrounding beasts and Hunters, causes beasts intense discomfort and make them instinctively avoid the scent, making it a vital tool for Yharnamites to survive when beasts are near. Hunters, luckily, do not react to incense, but tend to shy away from it nonetheless simply because incense wards off beasts... and Hunters should hunt.

The exact shape this beasthood takes varies quite a bit, and only some variations can be explained to a degree by the experts from the Healing Church. The most common and "basic" manifestation of the scourge of beasts is lycantrophy... or at least what appears to be so. In common Yharnamites these beasts will typically mutate at a relatively gradual rate, initially retaining much of their humanity as their limbs elongate and their features grow incrementally more bestial, eventually resulting in them growing fur, fangs, claws and a bulk of sinuous muscle indicative of their innate predatory nature.
For most, becoming full "werewolves" is the final stage of beasthood, though rarely, some continue past this stage. Some manage to sustain themselves with enough blood to not only maintain human minds, but to reach the next evolutionary milestone: creatures known among Hunters as "abhorrent beasts". Hulking monsters of rage and hunger, abhorrent beasts are not only insanely strong and fast, but tap into some eldritch power to create shock waves that could crush ordinary men. Indeed, some abhorrent beasts are even known to be able to shapeshift and imitate humans, making them extremely dangerous predators.

On top of this, another two kinds of lycantrophy can arise from the scourge of beasts: that of the "cleric beasts", and that of the "darkbeast". It is a closely guarded secret in the Healing Church that the explanation for the larger, more powerful and often spontaneously appearing cleric beasts is well known to them, and one that causes endless concern. These unusually powerful lycantrophes are members of the Healing Church - often Hunters - succumbing to the scourge, made all the more powerful by the potent blood they have reveled in.
And the darkbeasts... no one truly knows how to explain these. Undead lycantrophes wreathed in lightning, moving quickly, erratically and aggressively, they are the worst lycantrophy has to offer; they kill not for hunger, but for rage and hatred. Fortunately the only known specimen of their kind to appear in Yharnam, Paarl, was destroyed during the purge on the Night of the Blood Moon, but the mere memory of the darkbeasts continue to cause fear - and elation - today.

The darkbeast is also an example of another kind of beast, namely the undead. How to explain these creatures is generally difficult, since many undead are in a condition that logically should make it impossible for them to maintain vital functions, but they occur nevertheless, even if they are among the rarest of beasts. The prevailing theory is that undead simultaneously suffer from extreme, widespread necrosis and display outrageously powerful regenerative abilities, placing them in a perpetual state not of a risen death, but of near-death. This is also why the threat posed by undead has been noted to vary a great deal, with some being frail enough to dispatch with but a few wounds, and others being so powerful that they are practically indestructible.
An alternative form of undead perhaps not truly deserving of being placed in this category, possibly more fittingly labelled collectively as bloodwraiths. Taking many different forms, bloodwraiths are for all intents and purposes dead; not near-dead like undead, but truly dead far past the point of biological functions and regenerative abilities. Even so bloodwraiths exist, even though they are dead; called by arcane summons of the mad or obsessed with anger, vengeance and hatred, bloodwraiths are the truest form of blood echoes, trapped in the blood and given form through whichever medium is available to them. Black creatures rise from ash while white specters form from dust; whatever their appearance bloodwraiths are tricky to kill, completely mad and filled with nothing but intense hatred for all living things.

But while lycantrophy is the most common manifestation of the scourge of beasts, it is far from the only one. Another common manifestation is gigantism, which - as the term would suggest - causes the afflicted to grow progressively larger and larger, gaining tremendous physical strength, but suffering loss of agility and mental acuity. Exactly what causes gigantism is unknown, at least to most, but it can be easily discerned that the Healing Church have a strong interest in the afflicted, as they gather as many of these easily manipulated giants under their control as possible. Early stage giants are used as enforcers, patrolling Yharnam to fend off the enemies of the church, and late stage giants are used as guardians of important areas.

More rarely, the scourge of beasts can also affect animals who have ingested people who have received the blood treatment, causing mutations not unlike those found in humans, like gigantism and exaggeration of predatory features. Pigs, rats and crows have been known to grow enormous, in the case of the latter to the point of losing their ability to fly, and whereas dogs mutate more dramatically until they are barely recognizable as such.

Though many other, less common types of beast exists, none are as distinctive or noteworthy as the beings known to those who understand their nature simply as "kin". Beings of innate magical ability and generally alien appearances, kin occur under very specific circumstances... namely to those with great insight into the secrets of the world, and with close proximity to a Great One. Many kin are little more than mindless drones, often hostile to humans or indifferent to them, and are generally incapable of comprehending human means of communication. Whether the different behaviors are due to varying levels of mental acuity, or whether the kin are communing with the Great Ones or not, is uncertain.
Some kin are different, though. While all kin are typically powerful, with resilient hides protecting their vulnerable insides and substantial arcane powers, some rise beyond being simply kin, and are accepted by the Great Ones as true kin, or Kin Great Ones. An example of one such Kin Great One, Rom, was lost during the Blood Moon, as was the triumph of the Choir, the Celestial Emissary, who served as a mediator with yet another Kin Great One, Ebrietas. Though unknown to the public, the Healing Church knew of all of these... and meant to collaborate with them, to hasten the evolution of humanity. Until they were slain, that is.

Finally, beyond beast and kin and any subcategories thereof, the scourge of beasts may manifest in the most twisted, mindless form possible: amalgamates; multiple beasts and kin that merge together to form singular, semi-coherent beings that are stronger than the sum of their parts. Amalgamates never truly look like unified individuals as much as just multiple bodies sticking to one another, but they are of one mind and often gain access to unnatural powers that increase in potency the more beings are joined with the amalgamate. The most powerful example of this, known only to some of the Healing Church, came with the church attempting to use the scourge of beasts to artificially force the ascension of a Kin Great One: the One Reborn, an amalgamate of humans. Other examples of amalgamates include nests of snakes merging together, undead creating writhing masses of corpses, and especially snakes merging with humans. The latter is especially remarkable since these human hosts to snakes are usually consumed by the beasts from within, becoming mere puppets to the snakes, but rarely there have been claims of those who bond with snakes and use them as an extension of themselves, gaining tremendous power.

Hunters

Though "the hunt" refers simply to the purging of beasts, in which many have historically been called to participate, not everyone who hunts is a Hunter. Being a Hunter is not what one does; it is not a simple title or profession, nor any kind of meaningless moniker contrived by men. A Hunter is what you are, a fundamental defining characteristic about your existence. You are different from other humans... if there is indeed any meaning to calling Hunters "human" anymore.
Special blood treatment is required to become a Hunter, of the kind so powerful that it will often leave the recipient delirious and confused from the nightmares it causes. The change is at once profound and palpable; in order to effectively hunt beasts, Hunters adopt some of the properties of beasts themselves.

By tapping into their special, more potent blood, Hunters can infuse themselves with bursts of inhuman, bestial strength, durability and speed. A Hunter can stand back up from blows that would kill ordinary humans, and still have the strength to carry on. They can infuse their limbs with bursts of superhuman power, ripping through flesh with their bare hands or wield weapons too heavy for others. They can move short distances in the blink of an eye, briefly attaining incredible swiftness and agility, potentially weaving through danger with unbelievable dexterity. And, when they are actually injured, they can miraculously regenerate anything short of immediately lethal damage, even if these regenerative powers require blood to function. Hunters are also known to have a very distinct smell that permeates the air around them, easily detectable even by normal humans. This makes it very difficult for them to remain undiscovered by anyone closer than six or seven feet unless there is something to camouflage their scent.

Another ability of Hunters that perhaps speak more of the bestial basis of their power than anything else, is the dark technique of the visceral attack. The meaning of the name is twofold, for not only is the visceral attack something that can be done only by giving in to one's baser instincts and momentarily unleashing the beast within, but also targets the soft, vulnerable organs inside of targets specifically. Hunters tend to feel a natural, burning urge to viciously attack anything they wish harm when one such shows a moment of vulnerability, such as when they are stunned or otherwise immobilized. Giving in to this urge has their body act on its own, discarding their weapons to instead plunge their hand into their enemy, grabbing their squishy, fragile innards, and ripping them straight out. Though Hunters rarely realize this themselves when doing it, the visceral attack is no mere burst of ferocity or strength for them; rather, their body physically morphs with the attack, their hand growing larger, their fingers becoming claw-like. Basically the visceral attack is a momentary surrender to beasthood, which the Healing Church might have outlawed... had it not been so effective against the scourge.

It is worth noting that being a Hunter during everyday life is a tortured existence. At once driven by an intense instinctual desire to hunt beasts and haunted by the thirst for blood, Hunters are feared and appalled by Yharnamites, regarded as little more than barely controllable rabid attack dogs by the Healing Church and viewed with distrust or outright hostility by other Hunters. Hunters band together not out of any real desire to do so, but rather because it is the only way to survive in the ecosystem of Hunters: find a pack that can bare its fangs in unison so that others don't decide to slaughter you.
Nights of the Hunt, then, is a Hunter's paradise. These nights are the only time Hunters are granted the freedom to do as they wish and kill as they please, and often end up in veritable bloodbaths as Hunters, in their frenzy, turn on citizens and each other.

Walking the line between man and beast, Hunters are more powerful and dangerous than either... but such power comes at a price. Though it has never been made official and is not public knowledge, it rarely takes long for anyone in the business of blood - especially Hunters and members of the Healing Church - to realize that the special blood not only makes for enhanced humans, but also stronger beasts. Hunters spend their lives hunting beasts, but ultimately become the worst beasts themselves. This fate is inevitable.
At least in most cases. Though most Hunters eventually go mad and succumb to the scourge of beasts, there are a few that seem able to resist the sickness indefinitely. These Hunters also seemed to eventually become much more formidable than their peers, and demonstrate regenerative abilities bordering on immortality, resuming their hunt even after being mortally wounded... and possessing strange powers to move between places they have been before without traversing the space between them.
Though most people know little to nothing of these Hunters, the Healing Church knows about them and has since the days of Gehrman; know of the Hunter's Dream and the fact that these Hunters can only truly die once their dream ends. That they have the ability to blur and traverse the line that divides reality and dream, not through sleep, but by physically crossing over to other worlds. They call them Paleblood Hunters, because it seems that the disease - Paleblood - is what triggers this power.

And as a Paleblood Hunter, you belong inescapably to the Hunter's Dream... until you are allowed to awaken.

Blood

Blood. Blood. Blood. Whether a beast or a Hunter, blood is always on your mind, and even citizens of Yharnam often find their thoughts turning to blood, gripped by a preternatural lust and hunger for it from the moment they receive their first blood treatment from the Healing Church. Blood is not to Yharnamites what it is to most people; rather, while the Old Blood has arcane healing properties and conveys the scourge of beasts, it also change the recipient's relationship with blood permanently. Blood is intoxicating to these people, and drinking it causes intense euphoria and a sense of profound invincibility, as well as boosting the imbiber's health and stamina.

While blood is a commodity of pleasure to Yharnamites to the point of surpassing alcohol, drugs and sex, this is nothing compared to what it is to beasts and Hunters. Beasts are often gripped with such uncontrollable bloodlust that they will disregard threats and damage to themselves at the promise of gorging themselves on blood, and are known to weaken when deprived of it, yet become more and more liable to be driven into a frenzy the longer they are starved. Hunters, meanwhile, maintain a more professional relationship with blood, drinking it only to sustain their strength and heal their wounds. They lust for blood, but resist the temptation to pursue it; this, some in the Healing Church say, is the true difference between Hunter and beast: restraint.

Not all blood is equal, however, nor does all blood affect everyone the same. Common blood from humans or animals both inebriates and stimulates Yharnamites, whilst being vital sustenance to most beasts and a source of replenishment of regenerative abilities for Hunters.
Even among humans there are those who are different, however; certain women have special blood with unique properties, which is highly coveted by the Healing Church. Such women are traditionally recruited and trained as Blood Saints, though some such women are known to escape notice of the church. Yharnamites experience effects of this blood so powerful and profound that it has been described as "transcendent" and "as if meeting Oedon", lending credence to the Healing Church's authority as a religious institute. Hunters, meanwhile, experience no such transcendence; rather, to Hunters the blood of a Blood Saint boost their powers temporarily, and though the exact effects vary from saint to saint, it is always much more potent than any normal blood.
Conversely, tainted, unfiltered beast blood is known to be toxic and repulsive, and has proven to accelerate the imbibers descent into beasthood. Yharnamites experience none of the pleasure they get from other blood, but rather tend to become aggressive, irritable and paranoid, often even becoming delusional and seeing beasts where there are none. Even beasts are reluctant to feed on blood of their own and would only do so if starved to the brink of death. Hunters, though forbidden from partaking in this blood, are the only ones to experience favorable effects of beast blood... though this favorability depends on perspective. Beast blood strengthen the bestial features of Hunters, filling them with a burning rage and all-consuming bloodlust that, if embraced, cause Hunters' enhanced abilities to grow even further for a time. This comes at a price, however, as the stirred beast blood weakens their regenerative powers.

Above all else, however, is the foundation of the Healing Church, the scourge of beasts and Hunters: the Old Blood. While blood can be found everywhere, only the Healing Church as access to Old Blood, and only those who submit to the church receive the sacred blood treatment. The Old Blood can be used in different ways, apparently, and there are different kinds of Old Blood, though where it comes from and how it works is something known only to the highest echelons of the Healing Church.
Old Blood always cures all ailments except the scourge of beasts, which it causes, but its effects are not only restorative, but also transformative. A blood minister can use it to make a human a true Yharnamite, someone who can imbibe normal blood for health and pleasure, or to make Hunters. Other "tainted" Old Blood supposedly resulted in the creation of the Vilebloods.
Rather than being intoxicating and pleasurable, however, treatment with Old Blood is known to be a fairly traumatizing experience, so intense that most are overwhelmed by the sheer power of the Old Blood and pass out. The sleep caused by blood treatment is usually restless and full of nightmares, usually of beasts somehow interacting with the sleeper, often in ways very uncharacteristic for such beasts. Remarkably, Paleblood Hunters experience a common deviance from the usual blood treatment nightmares in that the beasts in their nightmares are somehow prevented from interacting with the dreamer, only for them to be approached by messengers instead.

Hunter Tools

A Hunter hunts; this is much is obvious, as is their intended role to cull the scourge of beasts. But since the days of Gehrman, the one named as the first Hunter, Hunters have learned, evolved and gained technical prowess, even as some of the secrets of the old Hunters were lost. One artifact has stuck with Hunters since the beginning, however, and has become something intrinsically related to Hunters: trick weapons.
Trick weapons are a marvel of craftsmanship, engineering, science and the arcane, and allow Hunters to carry just one weapon for multiple uses, with various weapons being able to transform themselves into radically different shapes. The exact nature of these trick weapons differ not only from one type of weapon to another, however, but also by the creed of the Hunters who made them. Different Hunters have been known to design their weapons by different philosophies, which has resulted in the occurrence of various Hunter workshops.
The first workshop, that of Gehrman and his disciples, was perhaps the most prolific to ever reside in Yharnam. These weapons usually featured transformations that involved folding and unfolding parts of the weapon, either the handle or the blade to shift balances, allow different kinds of grip or adapt the reach of the weapon. The most successful weapon to spring from this workshop was the saw cleaver, which was but one of several serrated weapons crafted under Gehrman's guidance to effectively draw the blood from beasts, hastening the progress of bleeding them dry to disable their regenerative powers. Though considered crude and primitive by some, these old weapons remain some of the most deadly available to Hunters.
Aside from that, two main workshops have influenced the development of trick weapons in wildly different ways: the Powder Kegs' workshop and the Healing Church workshop. The Powder Kegs were frowned upon by many for their borderline heretical ways, as their tools and weapons tended heavily to rely on fire and explosions, both of which could easily cause collateral damage and which often required the trick weapons to be primed for them to be fully effective rather than featuring a true transformation.
The Healing Church, meanwhile, formed a new workshop under the lead Hunter Ludwig, which served to develop weapons to fit a couple of purposes: for them to be more decorative, inspirational and civilized, and for them to be suited for slaying bigger beasts... and things worse than beasts. Typically designed with the base weapon being a silver sword, which was then sheathed into a much larger weapon, like a hammer head with the Kirkhammer and a giant, heavy blade with the Holy Sword.
But even with this many workshops being commonly known, there are still weapons that come from elsewhere, usually introduced from foreign lands as is the case with the chikage, or made by eccentrics, as with the tonitrus... and more remarkably still, there are weapons that are unique, even though their designs are practically ancient. The Blade of Mercy passed down among Hunters of Hunters; the Burial Blade once wielded by Gehrman himself; and Simon's Bowblade. But none of these are as legendary, nor defy explanation as deeply, as the weapon of Ludwig himself: the Holy Moonlight Sword, an arcane relic churning with the power of Cosmos, which supposedly has enough sentience to have once communed with Ludwig.

Aside from trick weapons Hunters use many tools, from throwing knives to molotov cocktails, and from potions to elementally coated paper, but none are as constant companions to them as firearms. Hunters are known to use a variety of guns, not unlike those employed by normal humans, but with one key difference: they use not lead or iron, but bullets of blood-infused quicksilver.
These quicksilver bullets are no mere lumps of mercury held together by blood, however, but gain profoundly remarkable properties through the union of Yharnam blood and living metal. By themselves quicksilver bullets are potent weapons to use against anyone with Yharnam blood, poisoning and stunting their regenerative powers, and even more with proper timing. For those with powerful blood, like beasts or Hunters, hitting them with a quicksilver bullet just in the moment when their blood is the most active - when its power is drawn upon, such as with an exertion of strength, or when it is replenish through imbibing blood - it can completely disrupt it, momentarily rendering the victim powerless and vulnerable. Though particularly powerful beasts or kin might be too resilient to be weakened with a single well-timed bullet, a sufficient amount of bullets are guaranteed to overcome strength of even the strongest, most durable adversary, at least for a second. The effectiveness of quicksilver bullets depend on several things, like the size and number of pellets and the configuration of the weapon fired from, but perhaps more than anything else it depends upon the bloodtinge, which is another way of referring to just how toxic and corrosive the blood fused with the mercury is. Hunters have varying bloodtinge, and while some may be little more than a nuisance by firing quicksilver bullets at beasts, others can dissolve them from the inside in moments.

But using quicksilver bullets by themselves, fired with a gun, is not their only use. By watching beasts, kin and Great Ones, Hunters and the Healing Church discovered that another power could be harnessed from them: power like that of the gods, the arcane. A great deal of research went into ways to access this latent power of the blood, resulting both in elemental weapons drawing upon the spirituality of their wielder to wreath themselves in flame or lightning, or even to gain entirely otherworldly arcane power, and in special tools more powerful than what could be powered through blood alone. These special Hunter tools were few and far between, and required such blood-power that they could be fueled only by feeding them quicksilver bullets. These tools were, in a word, magic; an approximation of the power of the Great Ones, even if just for an instant. These tools allowed Hunters of deep insight to wield curses, summon energy, shape illusions and even briefly call upon aid across time and worlds.

One last thing that is arguably not technically a tool, and which is only available - and observable - by Paleblood Hunters is Messengers. Thought to be beings of nightmares, these creatures are described as vaguely resembling malnourished corpses of human infants, disfigured in various ways, and are as innumerable as they are hideous. Messengers supposedly revere Paleblood Hunters to a fanatic extent and are said to eagerly obey almost any request made by one such, even if they occasionally seem to require an infusion of power in the form of blood echoes in order to do so successfully.
Messengers uniquely exist outside the bounds of time and space, capable of opening and closing tiny portals in the ground at will which allows them to not only travel from anywhere to anywhere else - even other worlds - but also exist in more than one place simultaneously. Special Messengers known as Gatekeeper Messengers, often marking their position by raising a skeletal, lantern-holding hand from somewhere beyond their portal, even function as the anchors between Paleblood Hunters and worlds outside the Hunter's Dream, with several Messengers joining forces to shift Hunters from one place to another. Even so the primary service provided by Messengers, and their namesake, is to carry messages between Paleblood Hunters, which they will do even if they have to cross into other worlds or wait for ages in order to do so successfully.
Many have wondered just what the Messengers are, and there was even a time when the Healing Church were uncertain whether these little creatures were perhaps immortal... until they made chilling discoveries in the nightmares that proved the mortality of Messengers.

Blood Echoes

Even long before the discovery of the Old Blood and the advent of Hunters, humans always put a lot of value into a person's dying will. But whereas humans placed sentimental value on these wills in the past, the Old Blood made it so that their value became very practical and literal. When one creature given blood treatment dies, other creatures near them - such as the one that killed them - actually experience a transferal of this dying will through the supernatural qualities of the blood, allowing beings to absorb strength from the dead, their final wishes echoing in their blood.
To beasts and most Hunters, these blood echoes are little more than an abstract concept that they pay little mind to, and which they are not truly aware of beyond the fact that the more they kill, the stronger they get. They have no true control of how they become stronger - whether they draw upon the experiences, skills, agility, lifeforce or strength of their fallen opponents - but rather receive tiny increases in all parameters, with their strongest characteristic typically having the fastest growth.

Paleblood Hunters differ in this way, too, however, as they are not only consciously aware of the blood echoes they accumulate, but are also unable to naturally metabolize them to increase their strength, letting them hold on to them as a raw resource rather than an intrinsic part of themselves. Why or how this is, no one knows... or at least, no human knows.
Remarkably, testimony of Paleblood Hunters suggests that they can do many things with blood echoes in their Hunter's Dream. Though sources somewhat contradict themselves on the specifics, Paleblood Hunters can supposedly draw strength from blood echoes with the help of an enigmatic "Doll", and can even trade their blood echoes for a variety of items from the messengers. Recently Paleblood Hunters have also claimed to have been able to trade blood echoes to the Shopkeeper of the Hunter's Dream for assistance, though this phenomenon is so recent that the Healing Church has not yet fully understood how it works.

Another special case in this exists in relation to the Great Ones. Blood echoes linked with Great Ones are not necessarily consumed, much as with Paleblood Hunters, but they furthermore remain cohesive and, for all intents and purposes, are less what one would normally consider blood echoes and more akin to souls or ghosts. These blood echoes are the creatures they came from, and a Great One can choose to do with these as they please.

The Healing Church

Though the Healing Church was once a great many things, developed over decades and built into more of a government than a religion, the Night of the Blood Moon changed all that. When the moon hung low and the scourge of beasts erupted more potently than any other time in the history of the modern world, the old church was all but destroyed.
The public knows only that very few members of the Healing Church survived and presume the remainder to have been devoured by beasts... but the Healing Church remembers, and knows that they lost many to the beasts within. That their members fell to Hunters as often as to beasts, and that the most powerful beasts came from the church.

The survivors of the Healing Church helped rebuild the institution, recruiting new members and attracting new followers by the twin principles that made the old church so powerful: blood ministration and combating the scourge of beasts. Everyone wanted blood, and everyone feared the beasts, and so Yharnam remained subject to the Healing Church.
But though reformed, one core issue from the old Healing Church remains publicly discernible: it remains fragmented. One faction, the White Healing Church, follows the tenets of Vicar Harold and his right hand mand, the first Hunter of the new church, Dietrich of the Shining Wing. Vicar Harold is regarded by most as the true vicar and head of the Healing Church, and is generally considered a wise and fair-tempered leader, whereas Dietrich is a formidable Hunter of significant renown, who after even such a short time in his position has drawn comparisons to Ludwig, the Holy Blade, who lead the Hunters of the old Healing Church. They perform their work with the public, administering blood healing and culling those who succumb to the scourge of beasts with stalwart dignity. These people endeavor to seem admirable and formidable, wielding only the most civilized weapons of the old church, like the Kirkhammer, the threaded cane and the Holy Blade.
The other faction, the Black Healing Church, adhere to Vicar Moira, known by many also as the "False Vicar", and by some as "Mother Moira". Not only is Moira an unconventional pick in that she is lowborn, uneducated and generally not very pious, but also in that she is supposed to fill the roles of vicar and lead Hunter. Even so she has attracted many to her side with revolutionary ideas to improve living conditions and rights of Hunters as citizens of Yharnam, as well as the fact that her prowess and ferocity in the hunt has sparked comparisons to Gehrman himself. They care less about maintaining a favorable public image, and more about exterminating the scourge of beasts and keeping their lands safe from their ilk. Having no aversions to stalking prey from the shadows and causing collateral damage in their pursuits, they hunt beasts relentlessly and by any means available to them. They are known to have adopted many of the less tasteful weapons, not just from the old church, but from other workshops as well, like those of the Powder Kegs.

The people of Yharnam, and indeed many surrounding lands, belong to the Healing Church. From Vicar Harold the citizens receive blood and protection, and by Vicar Moira the scourge of beasts is purged from the lands. But the Church has changed in other ways than this fragmentation, and in many ways reverted to the old ways from the days of Laurence. Rather than adhering to the policy of the modern Healing Church of contracting Hunters sparingly and using Yharnamite huntsmen for the bulk of the hunting, the new church is once more contracting Hunters by the dozens, infusing practically anyone able or willing with the powers of Hunters in a show of force to cement the power of the reformed church.
Those who recall the old Healing Church, the Choir and the School of Mensis, however, cannot help but wonder... what else might they be doing behind the scenes?

Hunter Creeds

Though many of the old factions of the Healing Church, like the Choir, Byrgenwerth, the Powder Kegs and the School of Mensis were eliminated on the Night of the Blood Moon, only to be replaced by the new Healing Church, there are other organized Hunters out there, unaffiliated with the church.

One such faction was the Vilebloods: noblemen who partook in what the Healing Church labelled "tainted" blood. The Healing Church declared the Vilebloods to be profane, though on what basis this judgement was made is unknown; they formed the Executioners as a band of Hunters to exterminate the Vilebloods. They were believed to have succeeded, with Martyr Logarius having once lead an attack that saw nearly every Vileblood slain, and Martyr Alfred reportedly having destroyed the leader of the Vilebloods, Queen Annalise of Cainhurst, during the Night of the Blood Moon... but time has proven this to be false. However such a thing is possible, all evidence points to the Vilebloods not only having survived, but experienced a resurgence since the supposed loss of their queen.
The Vilebloods are sworn enemies of the Healing Church and their Executioners in particular, and are known to hunt Hunters of the Healing Church as eagerly as they do beasts. They work actively to depose the Healing Church's rule and take back Yharnam and its surrounding lands for themselves, to restore the old ways of the people being ruled by their monarch and nobility.

Another old faction that has not only survived, but thrived since the Night of the Blood Moon is the Hunters of Hunters. Calling these people a "faction" may suggest more than the truth of the group, however, as the Hunters of Hunters show no signs of having true organization among themselves, but rather work independently and without coordination. Few aside from Hunters and the Healing Church even know that they exist due to their secretive ways, but those who do either recognize them as necessary evil or condemn them as violent extremists.
The Hunters of Hunters, as their name suggests, hunt Hunters, which makes them dreaded by many, though it is important to note that they are actually allies of Hunters. Rather than true enemies of Hunters everywhere they are assassins, working specifically to track down and kill Hunters who have gone mad with bloodlust, aiming to slay them before they fully turn into beasts. For as long as there are beasts, there will be Hunters... and as long as there are Hunters, there will be Hunters of Hunters.

Aside from these old factions, however, the destruction of old factions in the Healing Church has given rise to new ones. The followers of Vicar Moira is one such faction, but another can be found outside the Healing Church, and has become the object of many Yharnamites fears over the years. These people supposedly even have a new workshop of their own, inspired in no small part by that of the old Powder Kegs, and call themselves the Fire Dancers.
Made up by Hunters arranged into squads that almost work together, organized by central command, the Fire Dancers are noteworthy for various reasons, not least being the fact that they are Hunters that have all specialized highly on using firearms, being known to wield two pistols and blunderbusses in close quarters and hunting rifles at range. They are also known to have adopted some of the more outrageous firearms of the Powder Kegs, like cannons and gatling guns, and make liberal use of flamesprayers and molotov cocktails. While this is remarkable on its own, their notoriety comes mainly from them being known to extort money from Yharnamites and steal supplies from the Healing Church. They are even known to carry two different kinds of ammunition with them at any time to switch between as the situation demands it: quicksilver bullets for beasts and Hunters, and lead bullets for Yharnamites and other normal people outside the city.
Another new faction is the Harrow. Though the Harrow is technically made up by Hunters and Yharnamites, one would likely be forgiven for thinking them little more than beasts, as the Hunters of the Harrow make a point of fighting viciously and savagely, preferring to rip their prey apart with their hands and teeth rather than the tools of Hunters, and making no distinction between human, Hunter or beast in their hunts. The Harrow believes that the scourge of beasts is not an unfortunate side effect of blood treatment, but rather the true final objective of it; that beasthood is no curse, but rather the next logical step in human evolution. They seek to revel in carnage and give in to their frenzied bloodlust readily, aiming to intentionally trigger their transformation into beasts. Needless to say the Harrow are both feared and despised by most, but one must admit one achievement of their little faction: it seems to produce some remarkably powerful beasts indeed.
Finally, likely founded by straggling survivors of the collective suicide of the School of Mensis, is the Followers; a group of Yharnamites and Hunters who serve the Great Ones fanatically, and for whom the ultimate goal of their existence is to eventually ascend as Kin Great Ones and see the world as the gods do. This would perhaps have been of little concern to the general population of Yharnam, had it not been for the fact that the Followers are also frantically collecting anything that can even remotely be considered artifacts of the Great Ones, including arcane Hunter tools, scriptures and kin. They have even made an enemy of the Healing Church, as they have a stated objective of seizing the Old Blood and its source, citing that this can only be the greatest of the Great One relics.

But though new factions among the Hunters are a great concern indeed, it is nothing compared to the fear and awe inspired in the Healing Church, Yharnamites and Hunters alike by the appearance of a single mysterious Hunter, who has no allegiances and relies on no one but themselves; the one commonly referred to as the Moonborn. No one can explain where this Hunter came from except that they started appearing after the Night of the Blood Moon (hence the name), and no blood-minister can produce the Hunter's contract; indeed, it is uncertain whether this Hunter is even male or female. Only several things are known about them: they seem generally hostile toward the Healing Church and Hunter creeds; they possess strength, speed and skill far beyond that of any other Hunter; and they are almost certainly a Paleblood Hunter.
This last fact is collaborated thoroughly by testimony from other Paleblood Hunters, who claim that the Moonborn not only is not hostile to them, but has been known to assist them when called upon. The same Paleblood Hunters also agree that the Moonborn is no ordinary Paleblood Hunter, though, and claim that they have abilities not even granted to them, and seems able to move effortlessly between dreams and reality without need for an anchor.
Most notably of all, the Paleblood Hunters do not refer to them as Moonborn, but rather call them "the Shopkeeper", citing that the Moonborn is the caretaker of the Hunter's Dream. This has the Healing Church more deeply disturbed and confused than anything, as Gehrman had supposedly filled that role for many decades... and unlike Gehrman, it appears that the Moonborn - or Shopkeeper - is not restricted to the Hunter's Dream, and appears to be taking a much more active role in the guidance of Paleblood Hunters than Gehrman ever did.

Insight

Perhaps a concept that is hard to accurately define, especially since scholars vehemently disagree what it is or what to call it, insight is a very real and very impactful characteristic that all beings have. The loyal Byrgenwerth scholars interpreted the word literally, determining insight was actually the ability to see inward, achieved by having eyes on the inside; by "lining their brains with eyes". Whether this interpretation is true for humans or not is uncertain, but the founding scholars of the Old Blood knew that it held true for some creatures, at least. They had seen the creatures of nightmare, beast, kin and indeterminate beings, with heads so full of eyes that they were literally bursting.
Others take it simply to mean knowledge, and that in order to gain insight one must not gather eyes, but rather seek to learn about the cosmos and come to understand it. Others yet, those that are generally regarded as skeptics of gathering insight, label it as madness, and assert that insight renders people insane in various ways.
And indeed, all of those things may be true. Insight is gained through experience and learning, may well be thought of as eyes on the inside, and it definitely drive people mad. How could not, given what, exactly, one learns through this study?

Insight is gained when one encounters something new that defies the limits of one's perceived reality. For someone who has just embarked on a journey of insight, even relatively mundane things may be enough to expand one's insight, like witnessing the madness of another, encountering a particularly fierce beast or even discovering old secrets. The more insightful one becomes, however, the harder it is to expand one's horizon, and for most seekers of insight the difficulty of continuously gaining it alone is enough to drive them mad. Byrgenwerth, before its destruction, made great efforts to find ways to harvest and gather eyes, and to find ways to implant them onto others. Other, more practical ways to gain insight include smashing the skulls of those who were somehow exposed to an eldritch secret, or being exposed to something particularly mystical oneself.
Accumulating this insight, in turn, allows one to better understand and perceive the more esoteric aspects of the world. Records exist of those who have supposedly gained a significant amount of insight reporting that the world itself changes before their eyes, revealing things that were there all along, but could not be comprehended by those who saw it. Insightful people can hear things of arcane significance others cannot, and see secrets beyond the ken of ordinary people. It was through Byrgenwerth's pursuit of insight that they and their successors discovered the Great One Amygdala, which turned out to be present throughout Yharnam, curiously watching.

Another, perhaps even more important effect of high insight is the ability to gradually decipher the words of the Great Ones. Naturally Great Ones do not speak like lesser beings, but commune through eldritch means beyond human understanding, making any kind of exchange with them incredibly difficult. Those who learn eventually become able to interpret fragments of meaning from the Great Ones, and one scholar in particular, Caryll, even undertook the heretical pursuit of recording the words of the Great Ones as so-called Caryll runes. It was discovered that people committing these words to memory actually experienced mystical effects related to them, making them valuable, albeit strictly outlawed by the Healing Church of Vicar Harold.
Interestingly, while Caryll recorded most of the Caryll runes around today, one rune attributed to her - the very first Caryll rune, in fact - predates her by centuries, and was known to the church since the days of Gehrman's Old Hunters: the rune reading "Hunter". Though none knew how to read the rune before Caryll, Byrgenwerth found that autopsying a dead Paleblood Hunter revealed this rune, literally carved into their brains. This supernatural brand is known as the Hunter's Mark, and a Paleblood Hunter focusing their mind on this particular rune appears to always be able to retreat directly to the Hunter's Dream.

Great Ones

No one truly knows what the Great Ones are, nor do they even fully agree what to call them. The pious call them gods, the critics name them demons, whereas skeptics and scholars simply call them "beings". Most commoners regard the Great Ones simply as deities and objects of worship, either passed down to them through tradition or delivered to them by the Healing Church, but to Hunters, beasts and the Healing Church, the Great Ones very literally exist and interact with the world in tangible ways. Great Ones are real, and the benevolent among them can perform miracles, whereas malevolent Great Ones can bring about untold disaster. In truth, though no proof exists of this being the case, the Healing Church operates under the presumption that the Night of the Blood Moon was caused by a Great One... and that it only ended because that Great One was either satisfied or destroyed.

One thing one must understand with Great Ones, however, is that they do not adhere to the same laws or limitations that lesser beings do. They are not simply beings of power and longevity, but are truly transcendental in nature in many ways. For one, a Great One is not strictly limited to existing in one place at a time; indeed, some Great Ones are known to project numerous specimens of themselves into the world at once, and these specimens do not even need to be identical, but may even look like different entities rather than copies of the same being. Another important thing of note is that Great Ones are, even more so than Paleblood Hunters, untethered from the physical world and can freely move across not only time and space, but the borders that separate planes of existence.
Most importantly of all, however, is the fact that Great Ones may very well be entirely immortal, as even seemingly slaying a Great One only seems to temporarily weaken it, or even just repel it from that particular plane of existence for a time. The specifics of Great One immortality is something of a mystery to the Healing Church even today, and an object of intense study, but one thing is certain: if Great Ones can die, their death is incredibly difficult to ensure.

Known Great Ones

Studying the scriptures left behind by the old Healing Church, Byrgenwerth, the School of Mensis and the Choir, the identity of some Great Ones can be determined:
Amygdala is, though most do not realize it, the patron and guardian of Yharnam. Most Yharnamites do not even know Amygdala's name, but icons of its likeness can be found throughout the city, especially in the now-deserted village of Yahar'gul, where their local church prominently features a giant, very detailed statue of one of Amygdala's incarnations. Those with sufficient insight even find that the city is populated by manifestations of Amygdala, watching over its citizens while rarely making itself known. The Healing Church has its doubts concerning Amygdala's intelligence, suspecting that it is not much smarter than a primitive animal and is entirely perplexed by the complexity of human civilization.
Kos is a much more widely known Great One, revered by many as a benevolent god and a protective mother-figure to humans. Unbeknownst to most people the Healing Church are aware that Kos has not existed in the physical plane for some time, and that their predecessors are the reason for her absence as they discovered and dismembered her body many decades ago. It was through studying Kos' remains that Byrgenwerth was able to succeed with their greatest accomplishment: the ascension of a human, Rom.
Rom was not known to the public, but all the successors of Byrgenwerth knew and revered the Rom as the Byrgenwerth Spider. Once a scholar, Rom transcended humanity and became a Kin Great One, after which... the church was never truly certain what Rom was doing or why she did it. Living for decades in the lake by the school of Byrgenwerth, it was speculated that Rom used her power to inhibit humans from seeing the machinations of Great Ones, possibly in an effort to keep them safe from malevolent creatures who would rather not be observed. Regardless, Rom was ultimately slain during the Night of the Blood Moon, which some think was the catalyst of the disaster in the first place; that once Rom's protection faded, the Old Blood burned so hot that Yharnamites could not stand it. Even so Rom yet lives, as the Tomb Prospectors of the Healing Church report that Rom can still be found within the old labyrinth. Whether Yharnam is still under her protection, or if she is even able to return, is unknown.
The Celestial Emissary was also a Kin Great One known only to the Healing Church and the Choir, and was likely the least deserving of the title out of everyone. The Celestial Emissary was the alien-looking, faintly humanoid result of Byrgenwerth's experiments to amass insight, and had all of the hallmarks of a Great One, including seemingly limitless arcane power, the ability to project a hordes of itself into the physical world, and seeming immortality. The Night of the Blood Moon put this into question, however, as the Celestial Emissary appears to have been slain, and a new manifestation has yet to be discovered in any world.
Ebrietas was also a Kin Great One, but whether she was ever human is another matter entirely. The Choir discovered her in the deepest explored regions of the old labyrinth and endeavored to commune with her, going so far as to bring her back to their secret facilities hidden in the Grand Cathedral to study and learn from her. She was kept there until the Night of the Blood Moon, when she was apparently slain and returned to the old labyrinth from whence she came.
Aside from these, the Brain of Mensis and Mergo's Wet Nurse were recorded by the School of Mensis as Great Ones, and Laurence, the First Vicar, supposedly performed a ritual to summon a Great One known only as the Moon Presence, which is thought to have been the cause of Gehrman's disappearance from the physical world and becoming the caretaker of the Hunter's Dream. The new Healing Church has been unable to verify their existence, however, and no one outside the Healing Church knows about these Great Ones today.
Finally, everyone knows about Oedon, the greatest of all Great Ones, transcendental even among his kind, and the single being in all of existence that is the most literal interpretation of the word "god". Supposedly unable to take physical form at all in any world, Oedon is omnipresent, omniscient and, some believe, omnipotent. Regarded as the patron deity of blood, Yharnamites and the Healing Church alike regard Oedon with spiritual awe rather than any kind of rational awareness of who or what he is, or what he wants. Oedon simply is.

Nightmares

All humans naturally know that when they sleep, they may dream, and many will also realize that the same is true for most animals. For such mundane beings as humans and animals, however, a dream is just a figment of their imagination, a product of their sleeping minds. If all sapient life dreams, then, is it such a surprise that the Great Ones dream as well? And, given the nature of the Great Ones, it is likely no surprise that their dreams differ greatly from those of their lessers. Great Ones are beings of godly power, and thus their dreams are powerful indeed... because the dream of a Great One is real. Each Great One is thought to have one somewhat persistent world of their own which is their native world, where they belong.

Beyond the physical realm lies a wealth of other worlds, labelled by the Healing Church as nightmares. Defining just what these worlds are is difficult at best and impossible at worst, as beings are known to cross from nightmares and into the physical world, suggesting that things in these world do have material substance... but at the same time it has been discovered that sleeping humans can, under some circumstances, access the nightmares with their mind as they sleep, leaving their physical body behind in our own world yet still having substance in the nightmare.
Nightmares tend to bear passing semblance to the physical world, only twisted and broken into an alien geography with questionable cohesion and little respect for the laws of physics applied to our world. Objects may hover stationary in the air for no reason, one may find literal bottomless pits, and doorways that will lead not to the other side, but traverse the nightmare with complete disregard for the space between origin and destination. More importantly than anything, however, is that the nightmares is home to monsters that have no place in our world: creatures of nightmare. Interestingly, though many of the creatures found there are strikingly different from the beasts we know today, the old labyrinth has lead scholars to believe that most of these monsters are really just more victims of the scourge of beasts, only from ages prior to Yharnam and the Healing Church; from the days of Pthumeru and Loran, the forgotten nations lost to excessive blood healing. Yet some things in the nightmares are just too terrible to come from the real world... horrifying enough to drive people mad to behold... or from hearing their haunting song...

Just as important as the nightmares themselves, however, is the old labyrinth. Found and unlocked by the Byrgenwerth scholars long ago, the old labyrinth is... different. It connects to the physical world in a literal sense, having entrances on the surface that lead to its subterranian depths that allow the Tomb Prospectors of the Healing Church to explore them, yet within the labyrinth all signs point to them being part of one or multiple nightmare realms, having the same logic-defying geography and otherworldly monsters. It was in the furthest depths of the old labyrinth, in the land known as Isz, that Byrgenwerth found Ebrietas, and the Old Blood itself also comes from the labyrinth. Other Great Ones are also known to roam the labyrinth, making it arguably the single most dangerous place in all the worlds.
One theory proposed by the Healing Church is that the old labyrinth is something of a nexus between all worlds, acting as the hub around which the physical world and nightmares alike turn. No one truly knows who built the labyrinth, how old it is or how deep it truly goes, but one thing is certain: countless secrets remain within those forgotten, monster-ridden halls.
Whether those secrets could be the salvation of humanity, or whether they would bring about its destruction as they did with Pthumeru and Loran... is unknown.

A Night of the Hunt arrives...

The Healing Church is possibly stronger than ever, fed by the fear and desperation of the people, and Yharnam has been rebuilt and expanded as ever more despairing souls venture to the city in search for salvation from all that ails mankind. Blood healing is used more widely and eagerly than ever before, and Hunters are recruited and made in bulk to combat the increased number of beasts that come with it. For five years Yharnam and the Healing Church has flourished, and the Hunters have been brutally efficient at controlling the scourge of beasts.

Now, however, things are about to change. The Healing Church ever seeks evolution, ascension and transcendence, yet are hindered in their efforts by other factions working against them. Reluctant to risk the occurrence of another Night of the Blood Moon, the new Healing Church shies away from their methods and instead look to new ways to elevate humanity, and as such naturally look to the most potent beings yet produced by the Old Blood: Paleblood Hunters.
Paleblood is a disease that does not spread and only occurs naturally in those who are born with it, so bearers of Paleblood are rare. Recently, however, the Healing Church found a way to induce a condition that simulates Paleblood, which they proceeded to inflict upon a group of humans. As expected these victims of the false Paleblood sought out the church in search for blood healing not long after, and just today the very first batch of these prospective false Paleblood Hunters - along with a few true Paleblood Hunters - were given blood treatment, and are now in transition, sleeping as they change, dreaming of beasts and Messengers...

The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry, however, and it seems that the Healing Church chose an unfortunate time for their experiment. As the sun descended on that day, howls and screams erupted across Yharnam, and soon the bells had to toll, calling a Night of the Hunt. Yharnamites flee to shelter as beasts and Hunters take to the streets for another festival of blood... only, they do not realize that this night will be long indeed.
Eyes rest on a room in a remote clinic, dozens of cots arranged in rows and columns, many of which are occupied by sleeping men and women. Roars and howls sound ever closer... as the time comes for them to finally awaken.

OOC

RP style

The way this RP will play is going to be somewhat similar to how my other RP, The Prophecy, runs, in that it is going to be played in a comparable way. Even though the settings are obviously very different, this RP is going to have the same aspects of persistence and freedom as The Prophecy.
I will be keeping track of what happens everywhere as IC time passes, even when the player characters are not around to see it, and consequences of actions are going to persist and have rippling effects across the span of the story. Every action has a reaction, and the actions of the characters shape the story going forward.
Though I may drop hints and try to steer the story in a certain direction that I think will be interesting to explore at times, it is always up to the characters - and, by extension, the players - to decide where to go and what to do. There is likewise no requirement that your character absolutely as to stick with the other player characters (though you're likely to have a more interesting time if you do), as each character is free to do as it pleases.

The style of the RP is further going to be that each post is usually going to detail a relatively short span of time, typically a matter of seconds, in order to avoid conflicts between what characters do or say during longer spans of time. The exception to this will be fast-forwards or time-skips, where the time passed will usually be vaguely described in a single post.

"Race"

Though you are free to choose whichever "race" that you want to play as out of the ones outlined below, be aware of my recommendations attached to each one, as a sub-optimal choice may leave you with significantly different conditions of playing than others, and might put your character at a major disadvantage. Each "race" also has particular conditions in terms of how and where they start in the RP. Anything beyond the things outlined here is for you to decide.
Scenarios for your character are as follows:

Paleblood Hunter - Recommended
You are a bearer of Paleblood who has been newly contracted to receive blood healing, and have been turned into a Hunter just today. You will have all of the abilities associated with Paleblood Hunters from the game - that is, the player character - and the things specified in the IC section in relation to Paleblood Hunters. Death will only slow you down, you have the freedom to traverse worlds as you wish, the Messengers are at your beck and call, and the Hunter's Dream is your new home.
You will awaken in the room in the remote clinic, unarmed, along with the other Paleblood Hunters.

False Paleblood Hunter - Highly recommended
You are one of the hapless men and women unknowingly inflicted with false Paleblood by the Healing Church, who sought blood healing and was contracted to be a Hunter. In almost every regard you will be the same as a true Paleblood Hunter, testament to the success of the experiment... but beware, the false Paleblood may have made you different in unpredictable ways. These differences may be beneficial or adverse; who knows? Only time will tell what the consequences of false Paleblood really are.
You will awaken in the room in the remote clinic, unarmed, along with the other Paleblood Hunters.

Hunter - Not recommended
You are an "ordinary" Hunter not bearing Paleblood, more powerful than any human yet still bound by limits not applied to Paleblood Hunters. You cannot leave the physical world without rare, special means to do so, your death is permanent and you are doomed to one day, if you live long enough, succumb to the scourge and become a beast yourself. You are highly likely to meet your end during the hunt. You have been a Hunter for some time, however, and unlike the Paleblood Hunters have already acquired weapons for yourself.
You will be in the outskirts of Yharnam near the clinic, called to action by the tolling of the bells to join the hunt. Your situation, equipment and what you are doing may vary depending on affiliation with factions, and the specifics will likely be determined on a per case basis.

Yharnamite - Seriously not recommended
You have all the weaknesses of a Hunter but none of the strengths. You are no stronger or faster than an ordinary human and only regenerate when freshly injected with blood. You are probably going to become a beast soon, if you don't meet your inevitable demise before then. You might have some tools or rudimentary weapons at hand, but the weapons of a Hunter are unavailable to you.
You will be near the clinic accompanied by a Healing Church Hunter (played by me), being lead to a shelter.

Human - Really not recommended
You are a human. I trust you know what a human is? You are in Yharnam, but have not yet been given blood treatment. Your death is practically guaranteed. The only potential saving grace you have is that if you live long enough to receive blood treatment, you might be turned into a Hunter.
You will be near the clinic accompanied by a Healing Church Hunter (played by me), being lead to a shelter.

Beast - Seriously not recommended
You are a newly turned beast, though what kind is up to you; beasts are many things. Hunters will hunt you, incense will hurt you, you crave blood and your death is final. With the coming of a Night of the Hunt, however, you find yourself consumed with bloodlust, and know that willing or not, you must soon go on a hunt of your own.
Beasts will find themselves in the charred remains of Old Yharnam, where Hunters rarely go and you are mostly left alone.

Kin - Seriously not recommended
You are kin to the Great Ones, corrupted by the scourge of beasts and turned to the service of the gods that reign from the nightmare. Insane with the depth of insight offered by your master and filled to the point of bursting with fanatical desire to serve, you are compelled to seek Paleblood Hunters and kill them that they may never threaten the Great Ones. You know that you will almost certainly die, but you would gladly face your end in the name of your master.
Kin will be wandering into Yharnam from its eastern, inland limits with a pack of your fellow turned, blindly searching for Paleblood to stop them from transcending the hunt.

Blood echoes

I try to adopt as many of the mechanics from the game as I can and explain it in a lore-friendly way, but obviously the strict numerical structure of blood echoes and incremental stat-increases from leveling up are not going to translate very well into this kind of RP. Blood echoes are thus handled somewhat differently in this RP in that blood echoes exist as a vague concept, but that the amount will typically not be specified beyond "none", "some", "a lot" and "an insane amount".

Brief timeline

No one can say when it "started"; the Great Ones are ancient beyond comprehension, and for as long as there have been Great Ones, there have been nightmares, blood healing, Hunters and beasts. The earliest that can be traced is the civilization of Pthumeru, which was a race of tall, thin-limbed humanoids who attained great mastery of the arcane and grew to be skilled at fighting beasts, but were ultimately destroyed. An indeterminate time later the desert civilization of Loran, presumably humans, fell to the same fate. How many others came before them, or exist elsewhere, is unknown, but Pthumeru in particular is important as their last queen, Queen Yharnam, became the namesake of the city the RP and game centers around, and her blood founded a bloodline of rulers for the lands.

In Yharnam it truly started with Byrgenwerth, which was lead by Provost Willem, though he was by no means the only influential character there, nor the one who impacted history the most. Byrgenwerth was founded and built upon a discovered entrance to the old labyrinth, and it was there that they discovered the Old Blood that began it all. While Willem was cautious yet curious, others were much more eager to pursue evolution, and took the Old Blood for their own purposes.
One scholar named Laurence took the blood for blood healing, founded the Healing Church and became the first vicar. Another named Gehrman saw a different potential in the Old Blood and sought to use it against the scourge of beasts, became the first Hunter, and together with his fellow scholar and apprentice, Lady Maria of Cainhurst, he founded what would come to be known as the Old Hunters. And finally there was the scholar called Micolash, who went on to found the School of Mensis, desperate for ever deeper insight into the Great Ones and nightmares.

The Healing Church grew powerful quickly, and with the passing of the ways of the Old Hunters, the Healing Church took over this duty as well. Ludwig, the Holy Blade, founded the church Hunters, and hunts became ever more fervent as Ludwig conscripted regular Yharnamites to assist the Hunters. While Ludwig and his Hunters controlled the scourge of beasts, the Healing Church and its new leaders, the Choir, sought ever deeper for power and evolution.
Gehrman disappeared, not because he was slain, but because he was claimed when Laurence tried to summon a Great One: the Moon Presence.

Meanwhile Byrgenwerth did their own research into evolution and Great Ones, but rather than trying to commune with the Great Ones, Provost Willem enacted a different ritual; not to contact Great Ones, but to make them. They created Rom, the Vacuous Spider.

None of them sought as deep as the School of Mensis, however. In the secret village of Yahar'gul, the School of Mensis discovered the darkest secrets possible, and where Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church might have balked at the depravity of it all, Micolash and his followers embraced the madness. They made a pact with ancient Pthumerians for their eldritch secrets, and with the aid of these witches of the labyrinth they sought first to create a new Great One - which failed, resulting in the One Reborn - and then to claim existing Great Ones, true Great Ones, for their research. To do this they took to the nightmares, and found no less than two Great Ones: the Brain of Mensis and Mergo's Wetnurse.

Then came the Night of the Blood Moon. A lone Paleblood Hunter awakened, encouraged to seek Paleblood but with no memory of what this was, and went out to hunt. Guided by Gehrman in the Hunter's Dream, the Hunter tore through Yharnam, killing any beast in their way. They ended the Hunter's Nightmare by slaying the Orphan of Kos, they helped Alfred find and slay Queen Annalise of Cainhurst, only to then bring her remains to the Altar of Despair and, after slaying Ebrietas, resurrected her. They helped Eileen the Crow slay the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst and even ventured into the old labyrinth, eventually discovering and defeating the revenant of Queen Yharnam herself. Most importantly of all, however, the Hunter found and used three thirds of umbilical cord, defeated Gehrman and slaughtered the Moon Presence, and was ultimately reborn as a Great One themselves.

With the Moon Presence slain the Night of the Blood Moon ended, and Yharnam began its road to recovery. The city was rebuilt, the Healing Church resurged, and the hunt continued as ever. Five years have passed until today.

Character sheet template

Please note that this is merely a default template of necessary information. Feel free to add anything else to this as you see fit.
Name:
Race:
Appearance:
Height:
Weight:
Clothes:

Health and regeneration

Most creatures in Bloodborne, including Hunters, regenerate rapidly, though just how this ability is supposed to work is never really explained or specified. That works fine for the game where you can mostly ignore it, once again because your "health" is numerically displayed as HP and all you need to know is that if that value reaches zero, you die, and that the same is true for your enemies. This RP will not feature a numerical HP value, however, and will define how those with the Old Blood handle injuries in its own way.

When a bearer of Old Blood gets wounded, they automatically and rapidly regenerate; this is true for everyone. Any wound and blood-loss short of something instantly fatal or a limb being amputated is mended within a couple of seconds, whereas lost limbs may need several minutes to grow back. Having blood spilled onto wounds will allow them to close without draining as much of the reserves of the body, allowing one to extend how much one can regenerate.
After mending some damage, however, regeneration "runs out"; this is about equivalent to HP hitting zero in the game, only in the RP you do not keel over and die instantly when you take damage past that, but rather just stop regenerating. Regeneration will first slow down and then cease entirely, meaning that wounds persist and start to have crippling effects as they would in the real world, and one might start bleeding out. Regenerative potential is replenished by imbibing blood (typically injected through a syringe into the thigh for quick assimilation, but can also be consumed from other sources), after which wounds will resume mending.

Rules

- All character applications are posted in the OOC of the RP.
- Posting is not allowed until I have approved your character.
- You control your characters, not the other players' and not mine. If you get to the point where another character might do something, it is probably time to end the post and let them act or react.
- Kissing, hugging and such is allowed, and so is mating to a certain extent – but do NOT go around and describe the entire act of mating. If anything, make a time-skip from when the act begins to when it ends. Take it to PMs if you really need to type it out.
- While abilities are defined much more vaguely than in the numerically driven game and, as such, you have significant leeway in how powerful your character might be, please refrain from being completely invincible. Remember, there are others playing here too. If your character is too politically or personally powerful, I reserve the right to require you to change the character or outright reject it.
- Each IC post should maintain a decent length and should offer at least some development for your character or the plot. The current minimum length of IC posts is two proper paragraphs, but I retain the right to change this at any time.
- Once it is your turn to post, please at least give a situation- and/or progress-report if you are delayed from posting by a week, and another periodically at least once a week from then, if the delay becomes extreme. If you expect to be unable to post for two weeks or more, please tell us in advance.
- If you find yourself unable to post for a long period of time (a month or more), please consider allowing for your character to be carried during your incapacitation, preferably while giving relatively brief and manageable instructions on how to handle this OOC.
- The lore for Bloodborne is vague at best and nonexistent at worst, so a lot of the things going into this RP is going to come from various theories. I have tried to address a lot of things already, but there are assuredly things I have not covered. In those cases I say this: if a thing is stated in the game as fact it can be considered as such, but anything that is based on theories is best verified with me before being made official fact in the RP.
- Communicate. If there is any doubt as to which player is the next to post, please address this doubt OOC as soon as possible; ask if the other player intends to post rather than waiting to see if they will. In fact if you have questions in general, don't hold back: a question asked is potentially a mistake avoided.

The Prophecy

Guest bedroom, Remdal estate, Zerul City

What a week... and what a day. It felt surreal to be in an actual proper bedroom again after so long sleeping in the wilderness or in whatever was available. It had been a nice change to be able to sleep at the guard outpost at the border, to have a bunk to lie on and a roof over their head, but this was something else entirely. He could see the first rays of sunlight hitting the top of neighboring buildings through the window and reflexively reached for the brim of his hat, grasping air since his hat was sitting across the room along with the rest of his equipment and clothes. The bed felt warm soft under his body, and the room inexplicably smelled nice. The luxuries of the wealthy... such stark contrast to conditions living on the road.
So much had happened, but now it felt like they were closer to the answers he had set out for than ever. He would have to see what Aemoten and the others wanted to do about the bearers of the Withering – whether they were to make haste to Mount Zerul to protect the ones who went on their own or help the weak inflicted in the city get there, too – but it was probably a safe bet that they would be heading to Mount Zerul soon. Mount Zerul, where the Withering released its grip on its victims. Where they might finally find a cure, or perhaps a way to end the plague for good.
But as much as Jaelnec wanted to feel optimistic about the way things were turning out – it was seeming as though they could possibly manage to do something that people had failed to do for a decade, after all – he could not help but feel somewhat grim about things. About the misfortune they had had, and how it had affected especially Thaler... but also about Roct. He did not know whether he could trust her, or if talking to her was even remotely safe, but he wanted to trust her.
And, more than anything else, he wanted to hear her story. About why she claimed that Freagon had been downright evil, at least at times, and how the claim that Freagon was the grandson of Felgon Dragonslayer, who lived a thousand years ago, made any sense.

With a reluctant grunt the nightwalker pushed himself to the edge of the spacious bed, moved the curtain and threw his legs off it, shivering momentarily as his naked feet made contact with the cool stone floor. He hesitated once again, reminding himself of Aemoten's admonitions against having anything to do with the entity inhabiting his sword. The argument against inviting foreign entities into ones mind had been made that much more convincing by Angora's predicament, but even so... he had to know.
Standing with determination, Jaelnec went to his pile of equipment and, before he could change his mind, seized the hilt of his sword. Immediately he felt the gentle warmth from within the weapon seeping into him, trying to calm his worries, and knew that he had already invited Roct into his mind without even trying.
“You feel healthier today,” the female voice remarked inside his head, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Properly fed and rested for once, if a little colder than would be ideal. Are... are you naked?”
“I wouldn't have thought that would faze you,” he said with genuine surprise. “It's not like dragons normally wear clothes.”
“I may have been hatched as a dragon, but I never lived as one and don't really identify as one. The only experience I have with physical creatures is what I've felt through others, which has been almost exclusively Felgon, Telagon, Freagon and you, all of whom have preferred to be clothed.”
“Sorry. Should I get dressed?”
“Eventually, but it's not like your nudity bothers me; I can't see you anyway. You seem to think that you have ample privacy at the moment, though, so it can wait. You want to talk about something in particular, don't you?”
Jaelnec looked at the heavy wooden door to the bedroom, closed shut and bolted. “I thought you couldn't see anything in there. How do you know that we're in private?”
“You're speaking out loud when last we spoke you only thought at me. You wouldn't do that if there was a chance of anyone else hearing it.”
Satisfied with that answer, Jaelnec nevertheless found himself hesitating to speak of the things he wanted to talk about. “You're... sure that it's safe? Talking with you like this, I mean. Having you in my head.”
“I'd certainly hope so. Let me remind you again: Felgon, Telagon and Freagon all wielded me as well, and though Freagon made a point to shut me out, I spoke with Felgon regularly and many times a day with Telagon... not to mention the other things I did for Telagon. If Telagon was fine after spending decades with me, using me to fight and being my friend, interacting with me should be quite safe.”
“See, let's start with that,” he said eagerly, standing with the sword in hand, still in its scabbard and with the belt dangling from it, and started pacing back and forth. “What you're saying doesn't make sense. Felgon Dragonslayer died a thousand years ago; there is no way his son could be Freagon's father.”
He felt Roct hesitate uncomfortably. “You picked up on that, did you? But it shouldn't surprise you too much. You're not stupid.”
Jaelnec frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“You were his apprentice for ten years, since you were but a child. I'm sure you noticed that something was off about your master.”
He lowered his gaze and swallowed, feeling an icy finger running down his spine. “I... think I noticed. He didn't age.”
“Good, so you did notice. I have no idea how or why since he never told me, but after a certain point about a thousand years ago, Freagon Nightmaregaze stopped aging, though there is a huge span of time there that I don't know anything about. There was a battle at that time, the most intense one Freagon has ever been in, and I got the sense that he had been severely wounded. After that he left me somewhere, alone and in the dark, until about fifty years ago, when he returned to reclaim me. I was surprised, obviously; at that point I had been convinced that he was dead and that I was going to spend the rest of eternity alone for a long time, but he was alive.”
Jaelnec sat down on his bed, suddenly dizzy at the thought of his master being even more extraordinary than he had thought. “Freagon was a thousand years old... that doesn't make sense.”
“Doesn't it? Didn't it strike you as odd that a Knight of the Will was roaming about centuries after the knighthood had gone extinct? Surely he dropped other hints as well; being unnaturally old isn't something easy to keep from someone you spend night and day with for a decade.”
He shook his head. He would need to think about that one, though he did feel part of himself agree with Roct even now: he had always known that there was something off about his master, though he had never truly understood what it was. “Okay, but... what was wrong with him? What did he do? You said that he was evil...”
“He was,” she said, her voice more aggressive and resolute than he had ever heard it before. “Freagon Nightmaregaze was a hero at times, don't get me wrong, but at other times he was unquestionably a villain. He kept himself isolated most of the time, so for most part I don't actually know what he did... but there were several times when his control either slipped, or he intentionally let me experience what he was doing. And it was horrible.”
The squire's mouth went dry. “What -”
“Your nightmares are wrong.”
Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Jaelnec skeptically let her continue. “I know this not only because I witnessed what happened through Freagon's eyes, but because you've allowed me access to both your dreams and your memories, and they don't match. May I show you?”
“Show me?”
“You already experienced one of my memories, it seems, though unintentionally so; you relived my hatching and, consequently, my death. Dragons have perfect memory, so I can recall anything I've ever experienced in detail and show it to you. I can do the same with your memories, though those won't be as accurate or detailed.”
He licked his lips. “Okay... so show me, then.”
Though she did not have a body, Jaelnec still got the impression that Roct nodded at him. “Okay. First, your nightmares, colored by what Freagon told you...”

Jaelnec gasped, unprepared for just how vivid the experience of being shown something by Roct would be. Suddenly he was back in his ten-year-old body, tiny, weak and terrified, kneeling over the corpses of his family in a huge pool of blood as the fire roared outside. He was staring at the man who had haunted him so many times, a large man in chainmail armor, a blood-drenched sword in hand and a twisted, sadistic grin on his ugly face. Over his armor he wore a tabard with the crest of the Crusader's Guild, marking him as one of the monsters who had slain his entire village.
“Now,” he heard Roct's voice, sending ripples through the scene before him, “what you actually remember.”
Before his eyes most of the details of the scene seemed to fade into featureless gray mush, a blank canvas onto which something else could be projected. Some completely irrelevant details stood out much clearer because of this; a piece of furniture here, puzzlingly undisturbed even when it felt as though the world should be ending, a small wooden toy there, a floorboard with a particularly interesting pattern on it... The sense of being small and weak also seemed much fainter, obliterated by the crushing sense of sorrow and fear that gripped him as he cried over his slain parents and sister, lying in a puddle of blood that was magnitudes smaller than it had been in his nightmares.
And then the man... The adult Jaelnec shook his head with a sinking feeling in his chest, though the child Jaelnec felt only fear and confusion. As with everything else in the memory most details were blurred and forgotten, but some things stood out as very noticeably different from what he had seen just before. The man's sword dripped with blood, yes, but his right sleeve was also soaked in it, up to the point where it had been torn, likely by an unusually sharp instrument. His face was not ugly, but rather plain, if somewhat contorted in pain. He was smiling widely, indeed, but there was no sadism or evil in that smile on his tear-streaked face; it was a smile of horror-tinged relief. The grimace of a man who had just found a survivor at the scene of a massacre.
And on his chest was not the crest of the Crusader's Guild, but the crown of a Wenalic soldier.

As abruptly as it had begun the experience ended, and Jaelnec found himself sitting on his bed, crying silently with fear and sorrow both old and new. He clutched his chest with his left hand, the implications of what he had just seen physically painful to him.
“Yes, you already suspect what I'm going to tell you. You deserve to know...”
“Shut up,” he whimpered, gritting his teeth at the sheer intensity of the emotions surging through him. “Shut up... please... shut up...”
“Your family and hometown weren't killed by the Crusader's Guild; in fact they were never there. The man you saw back then had seen the smoke and rushed in to search for survivors.”
“Please... don't...”
“Freagon was the one who killed them.”
“No he didn't!” he growled, clutching the sword so hard that it hurt and showing his teeth in a furious scowl, desperate to vent the rage building inside of him. “Of course he didn't! He saved me! He saved me!”
“Freagon had hung around your village for a couple of weeks at that point and had spoken a lot with your father. He wanted to make you his apprentice, but your father refused; said he wanted a different, nicer life for you, and that he didn't trust Freagon. But Freagon was determined. So that day, when you left the village -”
He threw the sword across the room, cutting off Roct mid-sentence and sending the belt and everything attached to it crashing into the wall before clattering to the floor. It was fortunate that Zerulic houses were mostly stone rather than wood, or everyone would have certainly heard.

He threw himself back on the bed, burying his face in his hands as he tried to make sense of what he was feeling. He wanted nothing more than to reject what Roct had told him – Freagon had been his master and caretaker for half his life, after all, and he had regarded him almost like a second father – but he felt deeply aware that nothing Roct had shown him had been a lie. That man had undeniably been either a soldier or a guardsman of Wenal, maybe even a knight, and Freagon had definitely killed him. The crusaders had never been there.
Freagon had lied to him.
And now he was dead, beyond answering for his questions.
“Damn you,” he murmured, unsure if he was addressing Roct, Freagon or himself. “Damn you...”
He found that suddenly, he regretted that he would never have the chance to kill Freagon himself.

The Prophecy

Hey Yoshua, hope you're doing all right. And, eh... with a prelude of a humble "I don't know if it's incredible", I suppose it's gotten this way because 1: I've had a lot of time to think about it, and 2: the RP and its players has kept me on my toes and made me flesh out the world even more to have answers to their questions. And, of course, everyone else have added their little bits to the world as well, so there is that.

The Prophecy

Overall I think Athanar sounds pretty good and interesting, actually. I'm particularly interested in how his power will end up playing out; I have another universe I write about in which telekinetics adhere to very similar circumstances of still being subject to Newton's Second Law, though those telekinetics could at least, with enough practice, compensate somewhat by exerting opposite forces on different objects to cancel out the effect on themselves. But I digress; I don't think I have any objections to that part, at least.

The part I am somewhat confused about is his demonic craving. Either it isn't stated clearly in the CS, or his craving is supposed to specifically be garnering knowledge about the Divide? You could possibly convince me to go with that if you had a good reason, but Hymith's cravings are usually one-word directives and typically not that specific. They don't usually get the directive "kill this person in particular", for instance, but rather just "kill", if that's their directive. You could conceivably make it so that Athanar's craving was simply one of knowledge in general, and that the interest in the Divide is one he decided on himself. The result would be the same, albeit with the freedom to shift focus, and it would adhere completely to the existing norms of demonspawn.

The Prophecy

You'd certainly be welcome to. I realize that I'm repeating myself, but I'll reiterate as many times as needed that you are free to ask if there's anything you want to know.

The Prophecy

I wouldn't worry too much about "filling gaps" in the group as much as I would making a character that will be enjoyable for you to play. I mean, heck, one of the characters making up the current group is basically a non-combatant whose only useful traits seem to be the ability to universally understand languages and that he's generally a likable guy. Your character can basically be anything, as long as it adheres to the rules of the Prophecy universe.

That said, if you do want to specifically fill a vacant "role" in the group, I suppose they're missing (a) mage(s).

The Prophecy

"The deal"? Nothing much, really... if you want to join you can just go ahead and (start to) make a character; I'll help with anything you (or any other takers) need help with in making it. Once I have approved of your character, for all intents and purposes, you're in.

The Prophecy

Meanwhile...

Oratory of Fate, Kreshtaat’s Domain, the Lower Plane

It was never what one would refer to as “quiet” in Hell, with the constant infighting of demons and widespread torture, murder and rape going on everywhere at all times, but even by the standards of the Lower Plane the cacophonous pandemonium around Wagor was bad. On the ground, in the air, even under the ground and merged into ethereal shadows demons were clashing in the tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands; it had reached a scale where numbers stopped making sense, nor did they really matter. Two huge swarms of demons were simply throwing themselves at each other in droves, killing and maiming each other with wild abandon, only to dissipate and reconstitute themselves upon death so they could come back and fight on.
Pointless, he thought, faintly registering that a hostile thalk was apparently attacking him with bolts of purple lightning, though such lowly creatures were no threat to a demon lord like himself. He waved a hand at the thalk, releasing a small burst of energy that made the vaguely human-shaped demon explode in a mess of black gore and white bones. Lowly demons should just fight among themselves instead of trying to mingle with their betters.
A fourteen feet tall orlgarh came at him next, roaring thunderously and flexing its absurd muscles as it swung its giant flaming axe, apparently intending to use it to cleave Wagor down the middle. Wagor simply held up the back of his left hand and called his relic, though, manifesting his heater shield, Black Mirror. The axe struck, resulting in the orlgarh’s entire right arm vanishing into a cloud of black mist, before the Lord of Vengeance made a cleaving motion with his right hand and tore the brute in half.

He looked up into the sky, watching how the churning green, red and black soup of nightmares up there spat out multicolored lightning, rained fire and got pulled toward the ground by chaotically forming tornadoes everywhere but here. Immediately above him, unlike in most of the Underworld, the uniform black sky was uniquely docile, tamed by Wagor’s liege to protect the Oratory of Fate. This place was the most precious, most holy place in all of the Lower Plane, and for these heretics to try to seize it was unforgivable... so why was he the only demon lord here, defending it?
Of course he knew that Valderoth was on the other side of the oratory – even if Kreshtaat had not assigned them each their own side, it was impossible not to notice the dense aura of power over there – but he was the only one. It was both a good and a bad thing; on one hand it meant that the invaders would focus all of their attention here, with Wagor, since none of them dared to risk annoying Valderoth. On the other, the lazy bastard would never drag himself to this side, even if someone broke through. In fact, Wagor suspected Valderoth would not lift a finger even if the oratory was lost and was being torn to shreds right in front of him.
The truth of the other lords’ absence was simple, though, and he knew it: most demon lords wanted nothing to do with the battle, and while some might feel that such a battle was beneath them, Wagor knew most simply wanted to avoid punishment while at the same time hoping for the oratory to fall.
The Oratory of Fate was where Kreshtaat kept the Oracle, of course; everyone knew that. Everyone also knew that the Oracle was due to wake in just a year’s time, and that for one day only her limitless knowledge would be offered. They also knew, however, that the Lord of Darkness only allowed a few to approach the Oracle, and even then he permitted them only to ask the questions he provided them with. The Oracle was for Kreshtaat only, and no one else, not even his greatest demon lords, were allowed to even see her. These insurgents wanted to “liberate” the Oracle from Kreshtaat’s control, which probably meant that the winners would be the ones with exclusive right to ask her questions... though no matter who took her, taking her from them would be far simpler than taking her from Kreshtaat. If there was one universal rule in the Lower Plane, it was to never cross Kreshtaat.

The very air – thick, heavy and foul-smelling as it was down here – trembled for a second as Wagor sensed a sizable discharge of energy, and a quick look around confirmed that hundreds of demons on the defending side abruptly collapsed, crippled and incapacitated by the volatile debilitating magic affecting them. Truth be told even he felt somewhat weakened by the destructive energy burrowing into his flesh, though a minor effort on his part was all it took to dispel it from himself. The others affected could just go ahead and die. They were inconsequential anyway.
A shadow suddenly leaped out of the crowd in front of him, moving much too quickly for him to properly react, and abruptly Wagor found himself raised into the air and moving backwards at breakneck speeds, a hand around his throat and a vile, crumbling, rotting grin in front of his face. The hand holding his armor-clad throat was skeletal, flaky and crawling with maggots... as was the hand that now seized his right wrist, and the third hand grabbing the left one.
Wagor swung a leg in a powerful kick, easily shattering the ghoulish creature laying hands on him in time to catch himself with a burst of energy, stopping himself in mid-air before he was carried too close to the oratory. He let himself down onto the dry, frozen and barren ground gently, all while preparing himself for what was to come.
A second later the skeletal figure came at him again; it was a shapeless mass of bones, carrion insects, mold and dripping slime held within a cloak of rat-skins, shrieking wildly as its eyes burned a venomous green and hands emerged from the tangle, stretching their wicked fingers toward him greedily.
Wagor held up both hands as he pulsed dark energy, just in time to counter the blast of power emerging from his enemy. The force of the two shock waves colliding sent demons sprawling through the air in all directions and cracked the the earth beneath, but barely bothered Wagor’s regal humanoid form or the other’s – Myrtoloin’s – hideous skeletal one. Lesser demons were retreating all around them, most of them smart enough to realize that they did not want to be caught anywhere near where two demon lords clashed.
Myrtoloin screeched and filled the air with green lightning, arcing into Wagor’s body and trying to sap his strength. Wagor groaned, scowling under his hood as he channeled destructive energy into his right hand before shooting it at the other as a shapeless blob of darkness that exploded on impact, shattering Myrtoloin into dust... only for a new vessel to form immediately and Myrtoloin rushing him again, all the while crying out in rage.
The fight went on for a little while, but Wagor found that it was a very discernible difference between how he and the Lord of Decay fought, specifically in terms of how each of them had decided to make their vessels. Wagor had opted to spend a significant amount of energy to create a sturdy and powerful form, making it so dense and durable that it took minimal damage from attacks, requiring less repairs, and had high offensive power. Myrtoloin, on the other hand, seemed to spend as little energy on his vessel as possible, making it so fragile that it was literally falling apart on its own, but in turn making it disposable. Wagor could destroy Myrtoloin as many times as he wanted, but Myrtoloin just kept making new vessels; sometimes Wagor even found himself fighting multiple Myrtoloin vessels at the same time, being abruptly seized by one Myrtoloin from behind while fending off another in front of him, but the other demon lord was too cunning to overuse the trick. In the end it came down to who would tire first; Wagor from maintaining his vessel, or Myrtoloin from regenerating his.

Suddenly Myrtoloin vanished into smoke, and though Wagor could tell that that the Lord of Decay had teleported behind him just from his aura, skeletal hands wrapped themselves around his limbs before he could react. A toxic yellow miasma filled the air that Wagor instinctively started counteracting, preventing it from corroding his vessel, at the same time as he pulsed destructive energy from his back. Myrtoloin survived the blast, surprisingly, and only clung to him more tightly as more and more hands emerged to wrap the Lord of Vengeance in a tighter stranglehold still, bony fingers clawing viciously at his face and body...
Why did he change tactics? Wagor thought, jumping high into the air before propelling himself back-first into the ground with rock-shattering force; a maneuver that Myrtoloin shockingly still withstood without being destroyed. His strategy was viable. He has the power to match me blow by blow... but like this, I have the advantage. What is he thinking?
He elbowed the creature on his back, hearing bones crack and unmentionable things squish, and with some effort he ripped his right arm from the other’s grasp with enough force to tear off the skeletal hands holding it, sending them crumbling into the distance. He started funneling a large amount of energy into that right hand, preparing an attack powerful enough to disintegrate Myrtoloin... when he noticed the ground trembling under his feet.
No! he thought, too late to act, as the ground quaked, bulged and cracked, pushing upward in a surge of rock, dust and molten lava, all while a deafening rumble echoed throughout the domain. The ground finally crumbled away entirely as Wagor, Myrtoloin and any other demon unfortunate enough to have been too close to them were carried into the air on gray lips clad in scales of stone, attached to a creature so gigantic that size as a concept stopped making sense. A serpent of stone ascended out of a hole in the ground so huge that an entire mortal city could have fit in the pit, its body so long that an end was nowhere to be seen, even as it lifted the two demon lords miles into the air, far into the inky blackness above, where the harmful skies of Hell tore at their bodies and threatened to tear them apart.
Wagor unleashed as much raw power into the serpent’s head as he could muster, but unsurprisingly it neither slowed nor seemed to be any more than superficially singed by the blast; this was Akronos, another demon lord and one with a vessel even more durable than Wagor’s own, not to mention thousands of times as heavy and powerful. Akronos was a being of nothing but brute strength, an unstoppable force once in motion...
This was not something Wagor, the Lord of Vengeance, could stop.
With a sound of grinding stones, though less like rocks rubbing together and more like the motion of the tectonic plates of the world, Akronos’ jaws opened, and Wagor helplessly fell into the darkness of its gullet.

A moment later Wagor was reformed, somewhat annoyed at having to create a new vessel after spending so much energy making the first one, but by then it was too late; even hovering in the air at a distance, held aloft by his magic, Wagor could plainly see Myrtoloin’s abominable form crawling up the now-cracked ashen steps to the Oratory of Fate. It was impossible to teleport that close to the oratory – the same magic that calmed the sky prevented supernatural travel there – so the most Wagor could realistically manage would be to hit Myrtoloin with a blast of power from afar, but even then... Akronos was still there, beside him, a seemingly endless pillar of rock stretching from within the deepest bowels of Hell to far into its hazardous sky, the very movement of his body causing more of the landscape to quake and crumble. The Beast of Time could dive back out of the sky at a moment’s notice, and if it did it would tear a huge chunk of Kreshtaat’s domain asunder.
Wagor prepared his energy, unsure how to attack but knowing that it had to be huge, but it was too late. Myrtoloin reached the white structure at the top of the stairs, his grotesque form reaching for the handles on the colossal double doors into the place...

But then there was a form next to Myrtoloin, materializing out of the shadows. A pale, feeble-looking human man, his body marred by black veins and marks of disease, whose hair was like that of a corpse and whose only clothing was a tattered black skirt. A finger jabbed at Myrtoloin, and the demon lord was summarily obliterated. He did not reform, nor would he for a while, Wagor knew; there was no point. Myrtoloin knew better than to fight the Lord of Darkness himself.
Akronos apparently did not, though; the titanic serpent abruptly shot out of the sky with meteoric force, letting out a roar that shook the entire plane to its core. Wagor considered whether he was supposed to do something, but ultimately decided against it; he would only be in the way or, more likely, get caught in the destruction.
Kreshtaat looked up with annoyance, raised one hand and wagged an admonishing finger at Akronos... before the serpent’s head exploded, sending chunks of rocky flesh and showers of black blood raining down over the entire domain. The rest of Akronos’ body went limp with the destruction of the head and started slowly retracting back underground, though it would never make it that far; Wagor could already see it starting to dissipate into black mist now that the infernal consciousness within was gone.

“I thought I made myself clear,” Kreshtaat’s voice boomed across Hell, the sheer power and authority of him, even with his puny form, was enough to make Wagor fall to his knees in submission.
“No one enters the oratory.” He waved a hand with disinterest, and every demon assembled before the oratory, defenders and attackers alike, were instantly vaporized. Even the crumbling form of Akronos’ body instantaneously dispersed, leaving only a gaping, seemingly bottomless pit where it had emerged.
“No one but me.”