Dark Jack

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

It's quite all right, it hasn't been long enough to worry me. The other parts of the RP, on the other hand...

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Yharnam

Outside the Hunter's clinic

Morgraine's attempts at conversation earned little more than impatient, sideways glances from Victor aside from the occasional noncommittal grunt when it felt appropriate, mostly ambiguous enough that it could be interpreted as whatever she had wanted to interpret it as. It was not that Hunters, or servants of the Healing Church in general, did not exist as people, spoke with each other or occupied themselves with other things than working, as Morgraine worried, but rather that Victor was on a mission... and it was a Night of the Hunt...
...and it was difficult to focus his attention on her, for some reason, and even more so for him to interact with, or even be in the presence of, Adelicia. He had not really been close to the blood saint since he had rushed into the Hunter's clinic, but now that they were traveling the streets of their fair city once more, he found her presence far more distracting than when they had traveled to the clinic. He had no idea why, but for some reason he could smell her, and she smelled delicious. It made his mouth water, just catching her scent on the wind, and he felt his heartbeat quicken whenever his ever-shifting eyes caught sight of her.
He wanted to think that he was feeling towards her, and to some extent Morgraine as well, was just the attraction of a soldier in the field near someone of female persuasion, and did so, willfully and intently ignoring the ever-growing gnawing sensation in his stomach and the burning desire for red meat that had become a primary driving force for him to return to the Cathedral Ward: to eat. He was hungry... so incredibly hungry...

Having locked the door to the clinic with the key discovered inside, Victor lit the censer beside the door, hoping it would dissuade further attacks on the clinic, and cursed inwardly at what he perceived as a failure on his part to convince more of these Hunters to come with him. Granted, his stated mission was simply to escort Adelicia to the clinic and back, but the fact that he had recognized the true nature of this batch of Hunters as being all of the rare, immortal variety, as well as the unspoken objective of using Adelicia's blood to get these immortals addicted and thus ensuring the church's power over them, meant that the true, secret purpose of his mission – one not even Victor himself had been informed about – had mostly failed. Even Morgraine, who was coming along, at least, had not accepted Adelicia's blood and thus eluded the control of the church.
But there would be a time and a place for that. He would have to try to talk to Dietrich when they got back, as surely the First Hunter would know what to do.

The first stop on their journey was the house Draco had mentioned, easily recognizable from its lit censer. These houses were not abandoned, as Morgraine assumed, but rather freshly erected structures to support the explosive expansion of Yharnam and simply not yet inhabited by any of the crowds of people migrating to the city of blood healing. This one house, Victor knew, was where the refugees Draco had been traveling with had gone to hide when they had approached the clinic... and, he had said, where those Yharnamites that had attacked the clinic, and who had tried to kill Victor, had fled.
Victor ignored most of the terrified people in there, at most gracing them with a shove to move them aside so he could continue his search for the culprits from earlier. It was a small house, so the search was brief, and he found the four assailants from before, still bearing the marks he had left on them during their fight, hiding in a closet. They screamed, tried warding him off with their arms, and pleaded for mercy with tear- and blood-streaked faces.
Victor, grumbling about how his clothes were already ruined, was perhaps more brutal in dispatching them than was strictly necessary. Just a bit, though. A smirk had crept its way onto his lips when he left the house again, his bloodlust somewhat sated. He did not envy the poor clods that were eventually moving in here; they would never get the blood off.

The elevator

The sight of the bloodstains at the top of the elevator – quite a few of which were Victor's own blood – reminded the grizzled Hunter of how near death he had managed to come here, too, when the Mad One had ambushed him, Adelicia and Raine. He even recognized the lamppost he had punched in a fit of rage, and momentarily recalled the sensation of his bones breaking on impact and reassembling after.
They rode the elevator down to the bottom, only to find the giant he had left there earlier slain, along with several beasts and a Hunter of the white church. Once again Victor recalled what Draco had said, about how they had come under attack by an “insane Hunter,” and how their escort, Stefan, had been slain in the battle. The marks on the giants and beasts all looked to have been rent by claws, which meshed well with Draco's report that said hostile Hunter had had claws like a beast. Looking around now at all of this death and violence, Victor was in awe; this Hunter, whoever it was, had to be remarkably powerful. He has glad that they were no longer around, but also concerned as to what this Hunter, who had no qualms about slaying Hunters of the Healing Church, and who even seemed to be actively hunting them, would do next.

Victor's attention was drawn to the corpse of Stefan when Morgraine turned him over, glancing curiously at his slain colleague. His front was even worse than his back, it turned out; his face was beaten and bloody, his jaw clearly shattered and loose teeth swimming in half-coagulated blood in the back of his throat. The killing blow, most likely, had been the very conspicuous huge, gaping hole in Stefan's gut, with shredded intestines flopping out as he was turned. This was enough for Victor to raise an eyebrow, but little more, as even without Draco's testimony that a Hunter had been responsible for this carnage, that wound would have been enough to convince Victor: the result of a visceral attack, a Hunter-technique.
Rather than spare any glances at Morgraine, judgmental or not, Victor's attention remained on the corpse as he scurried over and quickly rifled through his pouches and pockets. As he had hoped, the church Hunter had a few supplies left for the taking, and he gleefully looted three blood vials and a couple of quicksilver bullets from the body.
“Sorry, meat,” he muttered under his breath as he pocketed his new acquisitions, “but I need it for the hunt. You'd do the same in my place.”

City streets

It was an incredible relief when they finally, after having to move at a mere brisk walk for what felt like forever, until the last hints of sunlight vanished and the crescent moon had begun its rise upon a starry sky, they got to deposit Adelicia at the shelter. The shelter itself was just a particularly sturdy and large building with a sizable store of incense, of course, where citizens could go to weather the Night of the Hunt. Literally the only reason to leave Adelicia there was to be rid of her... though Victor did hesitate when he sent her inside.
Would these Yharnamites respect her, even without a bodyguard? Would they realize who and what she was? Would they, addicted to blood like every Yharnamite, be tempted to attack the defenseless girl, inexorably drawn to her by the impossible potency of her blood?
But then, just when he was about to change his mind and call her back, a thought stopped him:
Will I do the same thing?
The thought disturbed him deeply and silenced his protest before he could speak it. It made him appreciate being able to run, like a Hunter should, all the more; let him vent a little of his nervous energy and served to put more distance between himself and temptation all at once.

The streets were mostly deserted, as was to be expected on not only a night but a Night of the Hunt, but they did encounter a few parties of huntsmen patrolling and Hunters darting in the opposite direction, heading out in search of prey. As they traveled, structures gradually grew denser, bigger, taller and more extravagant, as they delved into the heart of Yharnam where the elite lived, as close to the center of power as possible. Everywhere they looked were lit censers, their pungent smell discouraging any beasts from coming too near yet, though you never knew just how mad these beasts would get when the bells had tolled. All of these people, many of which still had light spilling out of their windows and laughter echoing in the streets, would be defenseless if the beasts grew frenzied enough to push through the incense.
But they had nothing to fear, of course; Vicar Harold had seen to that. The Healing Church had never been stronger, all due to how aggressively they had been creating more Hunters in the five years since the Night of the Blood Moon. With hundreds of Hunters in the streets, there was no way mere beasts would stand a chance.

Lower Cathedral Ward

Indeed, it was not long before they arrived at the outer gates of the lower Cathedral Ward, where most business – and all official business – was conducted, the great portcullis flanked by yet more church servants, several huntsmen and even another a church giant; a force that even a cleric beast would be mindful about facing. The portcullis opened at their approach, allowing them passage further into the ward, where the city was the densest and most decadent, and where the streets were patrolled by crowds of giants, dogs and huntsmen... where any enemy of the church would meet nothing but a quick end. The safest place in all of Yharnam...
And yet Victor felt uneasy, and kept averting his gaze from these mighty allies of his. Felt that they were a threat to him. He could not wait to finish his business here so he could head out and resume the hunt.

They were not actually going to the namesake Grand Cathedral, of course, as such was no place for Hunters. Instead they went to a different part of the Cathedral Ward, where manors, gardens and extravagance gave way to more spartan, military architecture. In the center of this place, where Hunters roamed in packs, they found a sizable barracks designed almost more as a small fortress, complete with watchtowers and giant cauldrons fit for pouring boiling oil. At the back of this building, furthest away from Victor and Morgraine, the stone pillar of another elevator could be seen stretching from the building towards the city above, the so-called upper Cathedral Ward.
“This is the White Church Hunter's Workshop,” Victor informed Morgraine as they approached, still feeling strangely apprehensive about coming here. “Inside you will find weapons, clothes, supplies... whatever you might need to hunt. Dietrich of the Shining Wing, the First Hunter of the White Healing Church, might also want to talk to you, since you're 'special'.”

---

One thing Morgraine might notice which Victor did not, interestingly, was that while she had seen Messengers absolutely everywhere – hiding in nooks and crannies, sitting on rooftops and windowsills, playing among grass and flowers and warming their little hands over smoldering censers – there was not a single Messenger in sight here.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

I am writing my next post at the moment (a longer one, I can reveal) and was repeatedly referring to your post, bloonewb, when I noticed a sentence that had escaped my notice the first time I read it:

However, even at a full near-run, she found she did not even become slightly winded. Is this the saint's blessing, this strength that fills her?

bloonewb

Was this just a spur-of-the-moment expression assuming that her Hunter-transformation was the result of the blood of a saint, or did Morgraine actually accept Adelicia's blessing (which is to say, her blood)?

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

He is not, no. There is a Church Pick on the ground a ways off from him, but it has been snapped to pieces. Otherwise all that is immediately obvious would be a burned-out torch on the ground next to him. She could search his corpse if she wanted to see if he had anything else of use, but she wouldn't be able to tell at a glance.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Currently working on the outline of the time-skip before actually writing it, and I'm debating how far to skip ahead. Essentially, the trip to the Cathedral Ward, which would be Morgraine and Victor's ultimate destination, would have several minor encounters and situations that I'm unsure whether Morgraine would actually stop and want to interact with. And so, for the time being, here is a brief outline of what the journey will entail so you (bloonewb) can figure whether Morgraine would react strongly enough to interrupt the time-skip and RP events:

Firstly, outside the clinic they will be on a plateau with a row of seemingly uninhabited houses to their left, and a ledge with a guard rail to their right beyond which is an view from above of the rooftops and streets of Old Yharnam, with smoking pyres and packs of beasts visible. Victor will close and lock the door to the clinic and light the censer beside it.

Just a little further away, Victor will ask Morgraine to watch Adelicia for a moment while he enters the only house on the street with a lit censer, citing it is to "check on them". There will be some minor commotion inside as he unceremoniously kills several of them before returning and ushers Morgraine and Adelicia onward.

A ways down the plateau, after the city beneath it transitions from Old Yharnam to Yharnam proper, they will arrive at an elevator. Outside the top of the elevator will be some blood smears, but little else of note. At the bottom of the elevator, however, they will find the remains of a battlefield with copious amounts of spilled blood, one dead church servant, a dead church giant, three dead and thoroughly mauled scourge beasts and, a little ways away, a dead Hunter in the garb of the White Church, lying face-down with the back of his garb torn apart and a broad strip of skin seemingly having been cut off his back.

Next they will arrive at the shelter, where they will simply deposit Adelicia before moving on, now much faster since they aren't limited by the speed and stamina of a relatively normal human.

And finally they will arrive at the Cathedral Ward.

That's about the outline of the full trip. For the sake of a balance between brevity and proper RP, I'll let you decide which would be the first among those that would cause Morgraine to go "Hey, wait minute!"

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

All right... moving at a bit slower pace than would be ideal, but progressing nonetheless (though I'd still really like to hear from @rocketrobie2).

Does Morgraine have any reactions to get out of the way about Torquil going through the lantern or Arcturus deciding to stay behind before the time-skip, @bloonewb?

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

@rocketrobie2, @DrabberRogue, please sound off so I know you're still around?

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Eastern Yharnam, Hunter's clinic, reception

“Following? Hey, the lamp'll be there come the day.”
Torquil looked slowly from the woman's face to the hand on his shoulder, to the door leading to the outside, past which Victor would lead them to the Cathedral Ward. But even when the most recently awakened Hunter turned to follow their church-ordained guide, Torquil remained rooted in place, struggling with an internal conflict that felt as though it was on the verge of tearing him apart.

“The lantern'll be there come the day,” the female Hunter had said, as though it was purely curiosity driving him, which could not be further from the truth. Torquil was, at his core, a fairly unimaginative person and was mostly unburdened by things like inquisitiveness and the desire to explore. It was probably a big part of why he so readily accepted the loss of his memories and his new role in life: he did not have the ability nor the desire to imagine what his life might have been like before, nor to conjure up alternatives for what his new life was to be used for. His past was gone? Fine, it was not as though he was using it for anything. He was a Hunter employed by the Healing Church now? Sure. Then that was what he was. He did not second-guess or deliberate over things he had no ability or reason to change. In that respect Victor might have been right: Torquil might actually be considered a simple person. He was content with what he knew and how things were. Simple.
But he was not stupid, nor incapable of making basic logical deductions. Victor could not see the lantern nor the little men, which meant that both of these entities were probably unrelated to him entirely, making them separate actors. Victor wanted them to follow him to the headquarters of the Healing Church to be briefed, armed and resupplied; this was logical. Strategically sound. Conductive of survival on a “Night of the Hunt” such as this.
But Victor was also not there for their sake; he was just here as an escort for the blood saint and had stressed, right from the start, how indifferent he was concerning the rest of them. Rats, just a moment ago he had called Torquil a “mumbling imbecile”! They had found him laying in a pool of blood, on the verge of death, and had saved him by using a blood vial on him... a blood vial that they had only found in time because of the little men.
And the little men... they were an enigma, which had initially caused Torquil to treat them as a potential threat, but since then he had had time to observe them. Though inhuman and scary-looking, they seemed to treat the sleeping Hunters with equal parts curiosity and affection, and though occasionally rude they had always seemed to try to show the Hunters things that were useful. Trapped in the back room, the little men had had insisted that they try to break out, before the clinic had come under attack. Later, when they had decided they needed to find the key for the front door, the little men had immediately endeavored to show them where the key was hidden, along with the location of even more blood vials.
They were the ones that had insisted on the Hunters to examine the lantern, and they had been the ones that had shown him how to light it. They had warned against the blood saint, the blood of which Victor kept trying to offer them, and they had promised that the lantern would offer “safe haven in the Hunter's Dream.” Following Victor towards a safety he knew existed was the logical, obvious choice, and thus the one Torquil would have normally picked without a second thought... but the little men had done nothing but proving themselves helpful and trustworthy. The lantern was an uncertain safety, an unknown; picking it was not logical. It was a decision made on a basis of faith.

Torquil turned fully towards the lantern. Uncertainty. The lantern appeared to actually take them somewhere; the disappearance of the large man was evidence of that much, but they had only the word – which, though it was a word they had no reason not to believe, was still only a word – of the little men that it lead to safety. The other side could be anything. It could be dangerous. A trap.
The big man had gone through it.
He could be in danger.
If Torquil went with Victor, they would travel to the Cathedral Ward. Known. But the big man would be left alone, possibly in danger, possibly unable to return. Possibly safe. Unknown. If Torquil went, he would either rejoin the big man and be there to save him, or he would rejoin him and be safe in the haven promised by the little men.

Stepping forward with determined strides, Torquil approached the lantern, his eyes locked on its glowing form. He clutched the hatchet in his right hand, licked his lips. The little men at the base of the lantern-wielding skeletal arm beckoned him closer, eagerly invited him to traverse its light. He continued closer.
Only once he had gotten so close that he could reach out and touch the lantern if he so desired did Torquil feel had he had felt earlier, the first time he had stared at the lantern; the embrace of the light, the assailing drowsiness. It was quick, yet felt gentle.
And then Torquil, too, vanished from the Hunter's clinic.

---

Torquil senses a power inside him stir, shrouding his being before dispersing.

Hunter's Dream

Torquil immediately reawakened in a new, strange place, where he immediately registered several things:
The world seemed to be covered in blood, despite it raining.
There were two figures ahead of him, a woman and a Hunter of indeterminate sex, moving towards a house atop a stairway before him.
The big man was right next to him.
And Torquil's hatchet was gone.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Those two ways aren't the only two ways for the characters to get trick weapons, nor are they equivalent; going either place will provide different degrees of freedom in which weapons are available and how willing the ones supplying the weapons are to part with them. Essentially each of the factions in the RP - the white and black Healing Churches, the Vilebloods, the Fire Dancers, the Followers, even the Harrow - along with the Hunter's Dream have the potential to be a source of proper Hunter-weapons, with more scattered across the IC world to be discovered and claimed, including quite a few original and unique ones. The Hunter's Dream is only known concretely to Nigel, and by inference to Morgraine, Torquil and Arcturus, making the White Church the only one actually known to them at the moment.

Do the characters have anything else they want to do at or near the Hunter's clinic, or are you okay with me fast-forwarding a bit, since at least Torquil and Morgraine appear to be opting out of interacting with the lantern? @bloonewb and @DrabberRogue?
(Also, maybe a little something just to give a gist of what Arcturus is thinking about all this?)

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

I mean, I don't think I'm spoiling too much by saying that there is currently two venues for the characters to get proper trick weapons: they can get them in the Hunter's Dream, or they can be granted trick weapons by the White Church in the Cathedral Ward.