Dark Jack

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

From the OOC section in the OP, under "Race":
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.

Also, even though you didn't ask for it but just because it seems relevant considering what you want for your character:

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.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Hmm... Well, for most part I don't have any particular objections to the character, though I do need one thing clarified: is Draco a Hunter or not? His race is stated as "Hunter", but him not being "an officially recognized Hunter" and his backstory making no mention of him accepting a contract or receiving blood treatment makes it sound as though he's either human or Yharnamite.
A Hunter isn't just a Yharnamite who hunts beasts (those are instead "huntsmen"); a Hunter is specifically someone who has received the special blood to become more powerful than others and has come to live for the hunt. Draco is either a Hunter or a Yharnamite, but he can't be both.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

@Bright_Ops definitely not! In fact we have been discussing making an effort to recruit new players, so you are more than welcome to apply. Feel free to let me know if I can help with the character.

The Prophecy

I've been pretty clueless as to that myself for... quite a while, I suppose. It's gotten to the point where I don't even readily remember who was doing what, or even who various characters belongs to (luckily it's easy to check up on, I'm just pointing out that I can't immediately recall a lot of things). I've honestly been contemplating doing a soft reboot of the RP (basically forming a new party of characters but continuing the story in the current worldstate), but it both seems like the "easy" solution and a sub-optimal one.

Sigh. I suppose we could... I don't know, make some very rough transitions to get the RP to a playable state again? Sort of just going "Aemoten, Thaler and Olan left" (since that was already in the cards), and otherwise, eh... figure out what to do with the remaining characters? I mean, Claw is still off on whichever adventure he's on all on his own, Iridiel and Angora are sort of just there, now playerless (honestly, I'd hate to think how devastating it would be to Jaelnec if he ended up losing Aemoten, Thaler, Olan and Angora all at once; he hasn't grown quite as attached to Iridiel, but Angora certainly made an impression).
On the bright side we have Domhnall still around (though I suppose he goes wherever Iridiel goes), Jaelnec is determined to complete his quest, and Yanin's group is waiting to join. There's also a few readily available courses of action, even if the group wants to stay in Zerul City for a while; they still have the Sister's of Torment in the city (though I don't think they've heard about that yet?) as well as a couple of other things waiting to be discovered, and the next stop on the journey - Mount Zerul - is all but decided already.

Another effort should be made to recruit new players, but as I said after the last failed attempt, I'm not going to do that unless I know the current players are ready and able to resume at least semi-reliable activity.
Eh... so mostly, I guess my plan would be to handwave stuff that would require input that would be too troublesome/slow to get, and mostly just brute-force the characters into positions that would allow the story to continue as unimpeded as possible.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Not going to lie, I'm starting to get rather... nervous and frustrated.

Anyway, I figure it would probably be fitting to throw in a CS for the new Hunter:

Torquil

Name: Torquil
Race: Paleblood Hunter?
Faction: Unaffiliated
Age: Around thirty
Appearance: Short but sturdy, Torquil's skin is tough, calloused and deeply tanned from hard physical outdoor work, with clearly defined musculature through his skin all across his brawny frame. He has plain brown eyes surrounded by early wrinkles, thick eyebrows and disheveled hair on head, cheeks and chin around five centimeters (two inches) long, all of which is entirely black. His jaw is perpetually crooked, possibly from having been broken once, and tends to waggle from side to side when he speaks from the right jaw hinge not working right. He bears various small scars that seem to have likely been earned through labor rather than combat, including a long, jagged scar across his right cheek.
Height: 1.68 m (5'6”)
Weight: 95 kg (210 lb)
Clothes: Wears plain gray canvas trousers, a white short-sleeved linen shirt, and a pair of cheap brown leather shoes.
Hunter gear: An ordinary hatchet.
Biography: Torquil remembers very little of his past beyond flashes of dense forests, the interior of a small cluttered cottage, and a sense of measured indifference and loneliness. This also means that Torquil does not particularly care about his past, however, and is quite content to embrace his new role in life without complaint.
He remembers signing his contract with the Healing Church and receiving the blood treatment, however, and knew from his first waking moment that he had agreed to become a Hunter, though he does not recall why he made this decision. Shrugging off such concerns, Torquil has simply accepted that he is now a Hunter and has adopted the task of slaughtering beasts as his new purpose in life.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Eastern Yharnam, Hunter's clinic

“Aye, I'm alive,*” the newly awakened Hunter groaned from underneath the heavy form of the bestial creature he had just somehow managed to break the neck of. Not only did he speak with a pronounced dialect, which on its own could make him a little hard to understand, but also suffered from a speech impediment that muddled his words even more. Hearing himself speak immediately saddened him as he felt his hopes that becoming a Hunter would restore that old injury – a broken jaw that had healed badly – fall apart. He did not remember how he had broken his jaw, and generally remembered very little about his life before tonight, but he did recall signing the contract and receiving the blood treatment.
Pushing against the back of the beast on top of him with arms and legs, he and the other Hunter who had come to help him managed to roll the nerveless body off him. He let out a sigh of relief, standing back up and looking around at the devastation that had befallen the room. He automatically tried to angle himself so that his crooked jaw and the scar he knew he had on his right cheek would not be too visible to the others, self-conscious about how unflattering it made him look.

“Thanks. I'm Torquil. Was that all of them?**”

(What Torquil actually sounded like:
*“Ahye, ah'm 'lahve.”
**“Thanks. Ah'm Torquil. Wahsh tha' ahl ah thahm?”)

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

I'll probably do that, but I'm hesitant to call attention to the RP while things are... well, the way they currently are. I doubt it'd seem all that attractive to potential new players.

@DrabberRogue and @Ashgan?

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Coming up on the day marking a full week since last IC post... just pointing it out, if someone would like to write one.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

I'm very happy and relieved to hear that. I'm sorry, but I sort of intervened in the situation with Arcturus so that your absence wouldn't stall the RP. Arcturus is still there, though, ready to be picked back up.

I'd also like to bring up again whether there is a consensus on whether we/I should try to make an effort to recruit more players in the near future, and how such a recruitment effort should be handled.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Eastern Yharnam, Hunter's clinic

Victor took a deep breath in his final moment of physical and mental preparation for what he was about to do, eyes shifting even faster than usual as he struggled to find the perfect emotional state between frenzy and focus, working himself up in enough of a rage to stop himself from holding back, but staying enough in control of himself to remember that he had an objective, even in the midst of combat. This was not a simple skirmish in which the only goal was to take down everyone else; attacking the huntsmen could very well be a waste of energy as long as the Pthumerian was ringing his bell, so stopping that was going to be the highest priority. That guy had to die.

Exhaling his breath, Victor had to resist the impulse to quickstep forward, covering the few steps in a normal run to conserve his strength for attacks, and approached the right flank of the line of Yharnamites, the one furthest from the wall that was most likely to allow him to simply bypass as many enemies without fighting them as possible. His heartbeat quickened and he started sweating profusely as he felt his muscles swell, his veins feeling as though they were filled with ice and fire, alternatingly, rather than blood. He leveraged the giant blade of his transformed weapon on his shoulder by pulling down with both hands, swinging the sword with all of his strength at his target – the pitchfork-wielding huntsman that still bore the cut and bloodstain in his clothes from when Victor had last slashed him – diagonally from right to left and downward.
The huntsman, sneering fearlessly as he glared at the Hunter with his unnatural red eyes, moved to counterattack, but the way he gripped his pitchfork – as a farmer would, halfway up the handle – meant that Victor's holy blade had longer range. Before the Yharnamite's improvised weapon could find Victor's flesh, Ludwig's Holy Blade came down full-force onto his left clavicle with a sickening wet, crunching noise, causing him to forget all about taking offensive action. Victor pressed on, forcing the blade almost halfway into the unfortunate fellow's rib cage, actually cutting through the ribs on the way as well as rending the vital organs within. Just before it would have cut all the way to the sternum the blade seemed to get stuck on something, likely having lost too much momentum from cleaving through bones and muscle... but then Victor took another step forward, flicking the sword – still embedded in the man's chest – to the left, effectively flinging the Yharnamite off the blade and sending him stumbling into his fellows.
Victor actually had to take another second to compose himself at this, struggling to resist the wet spray of blood from the wound he had inflicted and stop himself from assaulting the injured opponent. With a barely audible whimper the Hunter turned away from the huntsmen, fixing his gaze – no longer shifting, but keenly focused – on the bell-ringing bastard in the corner.
Die, he thought, his heartbeat getting to be painfully hard and fast, his restraint falling away as he felt the bloodthirsty rage consume him now that the way to his prey was unobstructed. Die, die, die, die, die, DIE, DIE!

He rushed forward with the holy blade at his left hip, his body still bulging obscenely from his supernaturally rippling muscles
-ding-
which, as the ringing of the bell grew closer and seemingly much louder than it logically should have been, felt... pretty strange? It felt as though every fiber in his body was vibrating softly, charged with an energy he did not understand. He ran a step ahead
-ding-
and the vibration seemed to get stronger, faster, as the bell got almost deafeningly loud to Victor's ears, even as its actual volume remained unchanged. A hatchet was swung by one of the Yharnamites at Victor's back, but missed and went unnoticed by the Hunter. He itched all over, and as his foot came down in another stride
-ding-
he suddenly got the distinct impression that something was moving under his skin. His mind turned inward, even as his eyes remained trained on the Pthumerian, and with a strange mix of fear and fascination he thought of all the horrid beasts he had encountered, of the invisible thing that had taken Raine, of the one that had crippled him... and felt this knowledge spread through his body like an electric current, both painful and pleasurable, a sense of strength and vulnerability. He kicked off against the ground with his front foot
-DING-
when a toll of the bell hit him, causing his eyes to go wide as he felt everything inside of him clench – muscles, tendons, bones, even his teeth – and then, all at once, shift to a hundred different forms than the one they were meant to have, changing so quickly that it would probably not even be perceivable to the naked eye. With a feeling that was a mix of torment and euphoria, his body seemingly spontaneously self-destructed, his skin cracking and splitting in countless wounds in a cascade in what seemed like an entirely excessive amount of blood.

His vision fading and his thoughts growing foggier by the second, Victor knew with grim certainly that this damage, whatever had caused it, was more than his regeneration could handle. Yet he did not even consider using his final blood vial; even now, as he was essentially flying through an explosion of his own blood, he felt his blazing fury carry him forward, a feral growl rising to his throat as the blurry visage of the Pthumerian swiftly came closer.
He had neither the ability nor the inclination to exercise finesse in this situation. As he landed right in front of the Pthumerian – trying desperately to back away, but being unable to do so from having cornered himself – Victor swung the holy blade, putting every last shred of stamina left in his body into that singular strike.
The sword cut through the bell-ringer's midsection with surprising ease, practically ripping off the entire top half of his body and sending it sprawling across the floor toward the center of the room, both the bell and the cane falling from his hands and clattering to the floor, as the Pthumerian's legs remained standing for another couple of seconds before they went limp, collapsing in the corner.

Looking over his shoulder, Victor watched indifferently as four of the huntsmen approached him, preparing to strike, while a fifth took aim with his rifle – the sixth being the one that had been in the Hunter's way, and who was still dealing with the damage he had suffered – and knew that there was nothing he could do to defend himself. His muscles would not move. His wounds were not healing. He had literally spent the last bit of strength he had left in him.
But then, as Victor kept staring vacantly, a red mist seemed to abruptly burst from all six Yharnamites at once and they all fell to their knees, clutching at their chests and faces while crying out in pain. His gaze shifting, Victor noticed that their eyes were no longer red. He smiled.
Then his vision faded to black, the sword fell from his hands, and Victor fell sideways to the ground.

~~~

The bestial huntsman struggled against the surprisingly forceful pressure clutching its throat, blocking its air pipe and forcing it to clench the muscles of his neck to prevent the nuisance on its back from forcing it backward, potentially breaking its neck. As it moved toward the wall, however, its red, dimly glowing eyes, of which the wounded right one had already regenerated, found Marcus, clearly moving to attack while the echo was distracted with a random sleeping – and now dead – body.
The creature grinned, confident despite its circumstances, as it held out its left hand in Marcus' direction, pointing the tip of its sword toward him as it kept backing up toward the wall, seemingly content to simply let the Hunter impale himself as he tried to attack it.
Its right hand discarded its meat cleaver and went to its throat, digging its claws deep into the arms that were choking it.

And then the bell stopped.

The cane in Marcus' hands abruptly vaporized, leaving him unarmed, as the Mad One behind him suddenly unraveled, collapsing onto itself, turning to dust until nothing remained.
Another second later, and a red mist suddenly burst forth from the beast's body... and suddenly its head snapped back with an audible crack, its neck breaking and its spine being severed by the sheer amount of force applied by the unknown Hunter. With a final spasm of its limbs it dropped its weapon before falling backward, landing with a loud crash on top of the man who had been strangling it.