Dark Jack

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Eh, as long as a post is produced it's probably fine either way.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

What are the plans for posts now? I imagine there probably won't be anything until the weekend, but it's probably a good idea to start figuring out who is posting first in the different scenes.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Eastern Yharnam, relatively near the Hunter's clinic, at the top of the elevator

Hunters were resilient, that much was beyond question. Victor had seen Hunters recover from absolutely horrifying injuries in the past, and he knew they healed so fast and so effectively that he had never witnessed a wound bad enough to leave a scar. Likewise he had been wounded himself, as well, since he became a Hunter, and had never really been too bothered by it. Cuts and bruises mended themselves in an instant, broken bones reassembled in mere moments... as long as they had blood in their system, even if their regenerative powers were not as impressive as that of some beasts, they were borderline invincible in the eyes of a human.
Victor had been knocked down many times before and had never really had any trouble getting back up. He had even seen a Hunter get slashed by a giant's axe at one point, flinging the poor fellow through the air while leaving a bloody gash across his body, yet even that Hunter had only taken a second to get back on his feet. Bloody, beaten and broken, Hunters fought on.

Which was why it was so thoroughly aggravating to Victor that he could not seem to bounce back this time. In his head he ignored the pain, did a little forward somersault onto his feet and immediately rushed the damn beast that had done this to him... but his body would not move. He actually could not stand back up, no matter how he squirmed and struggled to get his arms and legs underneath himself. For a brief second he panicked, having flashbacks to the events that lead to him becoming a Hunter – his first encounter with a beast, and the subsequent damage to his spine – but a simple effort to try to move his limbs in small ways was all it took to assure himself that he was not paralyzed. He could move just fine, but somehow it felt as though he had no strength left...
It was not hard to figure out why that was, of course. The fall had knocked the air he had left out of him, and trying to breathe was excruciatingly painful, with every inhalation producing what felt like little bubbles in his chest and every exhalation filling his mouth with blood. There was little doubt that at least one of his lungs had been severely damaged.
Even lying there, coughing and struggling to try to get back up, Victor could feel the Old Blood working its magic, though. He felt his shoulder fixing itself back up, he felt the wounds on his back and chest – both of which had produced sizable blossoms of blood on the back and front of his clothes, respectively – closing at a rate that was unbelievable to a human.
Damn beast... these clothes were new, and now they're ruined.

Victor had a lot of things he did not want to think about right that moment, even as those unbidden thoughts kept coming to him. Thoughts of what would have happened if, after his helpless hurtle through the air, he had landed on his head instead of his shoulder? Doubts of whether a Hunter was even capable of regenerating vital organs in the first place, or if his lungs were permanently ruined now? Even if his lungs healed, what about the blood filling them? Would he not just drown in that? Would he regenerate fast enough to stop him from suffocating? Did he even have a high enough regenerative potential to get out of this situation?
His instincts told him to run away, put some distance between himself and his enemy and buy enough time for his body to hopefully recuperate from his injuries. Between fight and flight, his lizard-brain was definitely opting for flight. But Adelicia and Raine were still over there, with the creature. He had no time.
Pushing back against the inclination to flee, Victor instead delved deep into the innate craving, nay, the need to hunt that was so integral to being a Hunter. He turned his head and looked directly at the monster – whatever it was – and willed himself to concentrate on his desire to kill. Thoughts of blood and violence, pain and death. The things this creature would do if left to its own devices, and the things he would do to it. He let the rage consume him, letting the flames of fury burn away this accursed weakness, letting it blind him to his pain. He bared his teeth in a bestial scowl, pinkish, foamy blood dripping from his mouth as he breathed angrily through his wounds.
He got his feet underneath himself and, albeit much less quickly than he wanted, started to stand back up.

Over by the elevator, the creature's attention seemed divided, on one hand being distracted by Adelicia's scream and the other seemingly recognizing Raine as the real threat out of the two. It seemed undetermined until Raine spoke, upon which its blank white eyes fixed on him. Its teeth, bared in a permanent scowl from the creature not having any lips, parted in a hoarse exhalation, its entire body turning to keep facing the Hunter, content to ignore the panicking woman for now.
Taking a quick step closer to the elevator, the monster then let out a short, high-pitched cry before rushing straight at Raine, reaching out to grab him with its empty clawed left hand, while the right one raised above its head with its saber, intending to bring it down upon Raine in a cleaving strike as soon as he was in range.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

“Hear voice,” the hoarse speaker close to the door announced. “Hunter wake. Open door, Hunter.”

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

You're clear to post as soon as you're willing and able, yeah.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

As tall as the wall it helps to scale: sixty-five feet.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Very good, I have no objections; elaborate backstory, yes, but vague enough that I can easily work around it and fit it in with my other plans and ideas. Character accepted!

Now I just wonder why the name "Arcturus" sounds so familiar to me. Hmm... It's a star? I didn't even know that before. Places, ships... Ah, Arcturus Mengsk. That's why.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Certainly. Feel free to apply; the RP can easily accommodate some more players, so more applicants are quite welcome.

In fact, if the RP ever stops accepting new applicants, I'll be sure to remember to change that "join status" descriptor for the RP, just so the current "apply" status actually means something.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

So it's Bartimaeus for the Adelicia-scene... who is next in the clinic? @King Cosmos or me? Or Habibi, I guess, if Marcus is going to react to Ishin joining the fray.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Eastern Yharnam, relatively near the Hunter's clinic, ascending the elevator

An uncomfortable silence seemed to establish itself immediately after Victor's last word, as neither of his companions deigned to speak as much as a syllable while shuffling their way into the elevator, eventually triggering the button in the floor and causing the entire thing to begin its rattling ascension. Victor, for what it was worth, did not like elevators either, least of all closed-off ones like this ones. He had no problem with heights, but closed spaces tended to make him a little anxious, and his anxiety was only made worse when he looked upward, expecting to see the sky far above but – obviously, in hindsight – being met by the roof of the elevator shaft instead, limiting his entire word to the inside of the elevator for the time being.
He looked at the two others, glancing first briefly at Raine's eyes just to compulsively confirm their normalcy, before letting his gaze linger at Adelicia. Such pretty eyes. It was such a shame that those eyes would one day be marred by the scourge of beasts, but at least there was some small comfort in the thought that he would probably not live to see that day. Even if he was not killed, chances were that he would become a beast long before she did; blood saints were known to be unusually resistant to the scourge, to the point where he actually could not think of a single such case. Relative to that, he, a mere Hunter, probably only had a few years left in him before turning. It was harsh, living with that knowledge... and even harsher for comparatively “normal” people, like Adelicia – people who deluded themselves to think that they were still human – who did not even understand the grim reality of the scourge. Who suffered from the intoxicating, debilitating madness known as “hope”.
Hunters, at least, knew: they were all going to be beasts sooner or later. All they could do was to kill as many of them as they could before turning.

“Beasts kill people,” he muttered over the hum and rattle of the elevator, about as it reached the halfway point to the top. For some reason he felt as though he had to explain himself, as if he was somehow in the wrong. Annoying girl. “And the longer they're allowed to live, the stronger they get. Trying to 'save' beasts is hopeless. All we can do is try to protect the sane.”
He paused, going tense and raising his sword and blunderbuss as the elevator reached the top, folding doors – now on the opposite side from where they entered – slid open, revealing a surprisingly clean stretch of street with a row of single-floor, pristine houses lined up on the far side of the area. Many of these houses were made of wood rather than stone, and all were recent additions to the city, built from scratch after the Night of the Blood Moon. Nearly all of them were still empty, and not a single one of the ones in sight had light inside or a censer outside, in all likelihood marking them as unoccupied. This area was probably the safest in all of Yharnam, short of the upper Cathedral Ward itself. Maybe they could leave Adelicia and the fresh Hunters in one of those houses? Surely they would be fine here for the night.
He quickly scanned the area from right to left, then relaxed once he had ascertained that it was safe. As had been their formation from the beginning he left the elevator first, taking the lead.
“And killing beasts is all we ca-eurgh!”

Victor's lecture turned into a surprised garbled noise as something, visible to the others as four unnaturally long, clawed black fingers, reached down from above, over the lip of the roof of the elevator, and deftly grabbed the back of Victor's hood, and proceeded to swiftly yank him off the ground and into the air. Victor reflexively pulled the trigger of his gun, unleashing a torrent of quicksilver pellets onto the cobbled street in front of them with a thunderous bang. Within a second he was already above the top of the elevator, out of sight of his fellow servants of the church.
He started inhaling sharply, meaning to shout instructions to his comrades even now, but was promptly silenced by the feeling of something sharp pressing into his back, followed by pain and what Victor could only think to describe as wrongness, filling him with a desperation unlike anything he had ever felt before. He could hear metal scraping against bone, feel the vibrations resonating throughout his entire skeleton, feel it in his teeth. When he looked down, he saw a black, red-stained blade sticking out of the right side of his chest. His breath caught in his throat.
And then, less than three seconds after having been snatched off the ground, Victor was suddenly flying through the air, completely out of control of where he was facing or where he was going; he had just been grabbed, stabbed and thrown away, and it had all happened so fast... he was still reeling when he hit the ground with his left shoulder first, about nine meters (thirty feet) in front of the elevator. His assailant had wasted no time, but had jumped off the roof of the elevator as soon as it had finished with Victor, turning to face the other passengers even before Victor had hit the ground.

The creature was tall, thin and long-limbed, like most afflicted by the scourge of beasts, but was also completely black from head to toe, clad in black rags and seemed, in spite of everything, relatively human in shape. Its head was obscured by a mess of black tendrils that seemed more like seaweed than hair, and though Victor could not see it from his current angle, the others would see its big white, glowing eyes behind the hair. It was armed with a saber, as black as it was except the stains of Victor's blood left on it. It let out an inhuman hiss.