Central Yharnam, Lower Cathedral Ward, White Church Hunter's Workshop
Walking through the doors into the workshop lead Victor and Morgraine into a large, quite well-lit room with brass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and braziers standing in the corners, which also meant that the area was a lot warmer than the outside. The room itself was even bigger than the back room of the clinic Morgraine had awoken as a Hunter in, seeming to be a bit more than thirty by thirty meters (about a hundred by a hundred feet) with a tall ceiling three meters (ten feet) over their heads, making the room seem almost cavernous compared to the tight, intricate spaces that typically made up residential and administrative buildings in Yharnam. The floor and walls, the latter of which had only a couple of small, barred and shuttered windows on the side from which they entered and the opposite, was all built from hefty blocks of granite. Even the ceiling, with four joists extending from one side of the room to the other, each of which was further supported by three wooden pillars, was made from slabs of some kind of soot-covered stone.
To Morgraine and Victor's right were four normal-looking wooden doors, whereas there was only two doors to their left, spaced much further from each other and each reinforced with iron bands. Also to their right, distributed around those two doors, were seven tables, each seemingly attended by somewhat harried-looking in white church garb, many of which were frantically consulting sheets of paper or notebooks or running from their table to the furthest of the two reinforced doors, only to return moments later with armfuls of supplies to their tables.
The purpose of these tables was likely quite easy to determine even at a glance, simply due to the objects laid out on or around them. Five of the tables were free-standing, further away from the walls. One of these was filled with preserved foods fit for quick consumption, like jerky, crackers and the like, another table was filled with bottles of water and other, somewhat colored liquids that were less immediately identifiable. A table had neatly arranged rows of boxes, each filled with blood vials, while another was much less neatly bulging with pouches. The last free-standing table, meanwhile, just had piles and piles of two identical sets of clothes: the
male and
female variants of the white church garb, which seemed to be what nearly everyone around here was wearing.
The two last tables were up against the wall, sat between the two reinforced doors, and used not only the tables, but also mounts on the wall behind them to array the items available in a manner that was easy to peruse. The left of the two offered a selection of trick weapons, the preferred arms of Hunters, and showed off Kirkhammers, threaded canes, Holy Blades, church picks, rifle spears and Bulwarks. The table to the right of that had a similarly laid-out selection of firearms, ranging from pistols and blunderbusses made to be used in one hand, to more powerful rifles meant to be braced and fired with both hands.
The inside of the workshop was actually surprisingly deserted compared to the outside, with the few Hunters present simply entering, getting what they needed and immediately leaving again to resume their work on this Night of the Hunt. On a normal night, or day for that matter, this workshop would doubtlessly have been far more populated than it was currently, but tonight more than any other time Hunters were needed out and about in Yharnam, purging the beasts as they poured out from whatever recesses they normally hid away in.
Aside from the clerics attending the tables with supplies, the only constant presence in the room was a stately man in a white
set of foreign, military uniform, only with a longer cape that was parted down the middle and embroidered with silver thread so that each half of the cape visibly symbolized a feathered wing. Almost bizarrely well-groomed for such a chaotic night, the man was clean-shaven, his blonde hair in a shortish ponytail and with eyes of such a pale blue hue that it was almost white. He carried a large sword with a two-handed grip and a blade that looked like smooth silver, polished to an almost mirror-like sheen. He held the handle with his right hand, resting the blade on his shoulder, while occasionally gesturing with his left hand to direct clerics and Hunters as necessary.
When he finally noticed Victor and Morgraine, he smiled at them broadly, flashing a set of blindingly white teeth, and approached them eagerly.
“Finally! I was so worried!” he exclaimed, his voice both smooth and confident. “When the bells rang I feared the worst! Although...” He turned his piercing gaze at Victor, who very pointedly looked anywhere but at the man. “Where is Adelicia?”
“I left her at a shelter,” Victor grumbled in return, clearly uncomfortable. “Figured it'd be safer there than dragging her across Yharnam to get here.”
“I see.” The man nodded to himself thoughtfully, rubbing his defined, masculine jaw with soft, well-groomed fingers. He turned to Morgraine, his eyes shifting momentarily between her and Victor before settling on her. He smiled even more broadly than before, the very image of charm.
“Pleasant evening to you, m'lady,” he greeted her with a small but elegant bow, a hint of amusement in his eye betraying his awareness of how inappropriately formal such a welcome was on a night such as this one. “I am Dietrich, First Hunter of the White Church. And you are...?”
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