Dark Jack

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

He was sitting in a tall tree, on a high, sturdy bough, surrounded by the colors and smells of autumn. He looked down and was assailed by vertigo; he dared not even try to estimate how far below him the ground was. Not only that, but he seemed to be getting further and further away from the ground with each passing second, as if the tree he was sitting in was growing at blazing speeds and carrying him skyward.
He expected to feel fear, but did not. In fact there was part of him that, even though he rationally knew that what he was experiencing conflicted with reality, considered this completely natural.
“Ah yes,” a little voice in his head said – a voice he did not recognize, but might have been his own – with detached fascination. “We are going up. Up is good.”
He did not know why up was good, but somehow he just accepted the words of the voice implicitly.
A moment later he discovered why up was good: below him, at the base of the tree, crowded scores of tiny little monsters. Their sizes and builds were like those of children – infants, almost – only with long, spindly arms and inhuman, eyeless faces. They had no legs, it seemed... or rather, perhaps their legs were under the ground, since these creatures seemed to be sprouting right out of it like so many other random growths in this forest.
It did not even occur to him to look around and check for other trees; somehow, he just knew this was a forest.
The tree suddenly jostled, causing him to start and look around for the cause of the disturbance. And right there beside him, on a neighboring bough, had appeared another monster. It was completely different from the ones below, not even remotely humanoid in shape, but rather akin to a hideously malformed bird. It was as big as he was, snapping its beak at him threateningly, showing off the teeth within the beak. Cold, dead eyes, and plumage of indeterminable color due to the fact that the abomination was entirely drenched in and dripping with crimson.
It was repulsive, yet also somehow mesmerizing. Despite knowing it would likely bite his hand off, he reached out to touch he bird, just as it leaned forward to bring its beak toward him. Though clearly a terrible man-eating beast, it did not feel hostile. It felt familiar, like his favorite pair of boots. He was not afraid.
Just the instant before he would have made contact with it, however, everything turned to white, the bough quaked violently beneath him and a cacophonous boom filled the air as lightning struck, directly into the bird. The thunder should have deafened him, but it did not; he could still hear the bird cry out in agony as its body was enveloped in bright, cleansing flame.
“That is probably for the best,” the voice that might be his own suggested. “We are supposed to hunt beasts, after all.”
There was no time for him to unpack the meaning of those statements, for the flames spread rapidly from the bird, threatening to consume all of the tree, and him along with it.
He dropped off the bough without worry or fear, uncharacteristically dispassionate as he surrendered himself to gravity. The beast above had stilled by then, its body already reduced to nothing but smoke and cinders by the conflagration.
He fell toward the ground, where the little creatures awaited him. Crowded on the ground in a thick, disgusting clump of bodies. Entire crowds of them, reaching up their little hands as if trying to reach him. They soon would; he plummeted directly toward them as a bell tolled in the far distance. Toward them, closer and closer as he fell from the heavens, and

Torquil abruptly jolted into an upright sitting position, letting out a garbled, desperate sound. He barely even felt the resistance of restraints on his arms as he tore himself out of them, swinging his big, calloused fist through the air at nothing in particular. His suntanned skin was drenched in sweat, causing his white shirt to cling uncomfortably to his hefty, muscular frame. His breathing was rapid and panicked... until it was not.
As suddenly as he had awakened to dread and doom, Torquil felt a strange sense of remarkable calm settle over him. A sense of confidence, strength and purpose.
Right, I remember. I became a Hunter.
It was pretty much all he remembered, too; bits and pieces, flashes and images, but nothing concrete... just enough to remind him that it was no great loss. What did it matter if he remembered who he was before, anyway? He had signed the contract of his own free will, and he was now a Hunter. The one he used to be was gone, and the new him had a job to do. He had never needed more than that, he felt, and saw no reason that he would need more now.

He did not even notice the Messengers crowded around his body, reaching out as if to touch him with their long, thin fingers, nor did he notice the numerous cots with other people all around him. Torquil just sat there with a blank expression on his face, absorbing the nothing that was left of himself and assimilating it into the new him. He was a Hunter now... what did that mean, other than he was to hunt beasts?
The contract... was with the Healing Church. They would know. Thinking was hard, it was better to let someone else do it.

It was only then his mind started absorbing what was outside of himself, starting with the Messengers sharing the cot with him. Vile, abhorrent little things they were, unlike any beast he had ever heard of... was he supposed to kill them? They had seemed like such an overwhelming danger in his dream, but now he thought them quite pitiful. He tried to shove a small group of them away, only to find that his hand passed right through it without resistance. The Messengers he had “touched”, meanwhile, seemed to grow agitated, shaking their little fists at him while quietly moaning to themselves. Whatever these creatures were and whatever impression he had gotten of them in his dream, they seemed quite pathetic now. Harmless.
Again his world expanded as he took in the cots around him, rows of cots with people like him strapped to them, all of them crowded by the little fiends. Hundreds of them, everywhere. He should have been terrified, but he was not.

Finally and inevitably, his attention landed on the one person in the room not currently on a cot, but in the process of getting up from one. A tall – a fair bit taller than Torquil himself – woman in rags, with silver hair despite looking to be about his own age. A blood minister? No, that did not seem right. She looked like she had been on the cot beside her... another Hunter?
He started to try to say something, but immediately felt the right hinge of his jaw snag, creak and crack. Instant flashes of his old life returned to him from the experience – memories of him trying and failing to convey words to others clearly, memories of people mocking him and driving him away, memories of watching people from afar through the trees of the forest, memories of apathy and loneliness – and he decided not to say anything. He recalled hating this ruined jaw of his and a hope that the Old Blood would fix it. It seemed it had not. To say he was disappointed would be an understatement.
Instead he just waved at her, offering an awkward, crooked smile – the only smile he was capable of – as he swung his legs off the cot.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The room was large for this kind of clinic, especially with how far from the city center it was, and was generally furnished in a way that was puzzlingly different from what one might expect from such a place. Thirty meters wide and twenty meters long, by far most of the room was occupied by nothing but rows of simple cots arranged in an obviously deliberate manner, head to foot and side by side, with just enough room between each cot for an attendee to fit through the space. Several small chandeliers hang from the ceiling to assist the sconces mounted on the walls, numerous enough that the room would likely have been quite well-lit normally, yet the room was beginning to dim as candles burned out, leaving some flames flickering and others gone, forming islands of shadow around some of the cots.
On one of the two longest sides of the room, nestled against the wall, was a series of small tables, blackboards and apparatus; clearly the equipment of the blood minister running the clinic. But there was also a couple of wooden barrels standing in the corner that seemed anything but meant for a man of the church, as they were full of instruments of death rather than healing; swords, axes, and spears stuck out of the top of them in a selection that was remarkably mundane considering the clients currently occupying it. Weapons for normal people, not Hunters.
Opposite of the healer's equipment, in the middle of that wall, was the single entrance and exit out of the room: a sturdy wooden door, closed shut against the world outside.

The room was quiet aside from occasional whimpers, as the people lying on the cots – men and women who had been given blood treatment and were undergoing the metamorphosis from human to Hunter – squirmed and thrashed in the throes of the nightmares haunting them, of beasts that could not reach them, and Messengers who eagerly did. But it was not deserted, actually; someone was watching.
From the inky blackness pooling in one corner of the room stepped a lone figure, silent as the darkness itself, and surveyed the room. The figure wore the typical uniform of a Hunter, the so-called Hunter's garb, only with the top of the head wrapped in cloth under their cap, which in combination with their mask completely obfuscated their appearance. Their motions had the fluency of someone both confident and nimble, and one might be tempted to think that the quiet nature of their footfalls came not from effort to make them so, but from habit.
The Hunter turned their head slowly, letting their eyes take in the sight of the many cots and their occupants in front of them. This was... very strange. Since the Night of the Blood Moon the Healing Church had been very protective of their Paleblood Hunters and had turned them all at the upper Cathedral Ward, at the very heart of their domain, yet these Paleblood Hunters were being turned as far away from there as possible without leaving Yharnam. And there were so many of them! The Hunter had never seen anything quite like this.

While examining the people gathered before them, the Hunter abruptly stopped turning their head, fixing their attention on one cot in particular, situated in the far right corner of the room compared to the exit. The room was crawling with Messengers, naturally – how could it not be with so many Paleblood Hunters in one place? – but they were absolutely swarming that particular cot, crowding around it eagerly to have their turn at climbing atop of it, shoving one another as they tried to reach the person hidden underneath the layers of otherworldly creatures. They were pushing, pulling and shaking the person, clearly agitated.
With no other sound than a faint rustle of their coat the Hunter crossed the room with long, steady strides to investigate this phenomenon more closely. They dispersed the swarming Messengers with a wave of a gloved hand, revealing the object of their fascination: a man with a somewhat foreign look, probably hailing from far from Yharnam. The most unusual thing about this man was his complexion, which was white as a ghost but with veins that stood out as black against the white skin, along with black eyelids and -sockets. His lips were light-blue and his cheeks were sunken, making him look incredibly ill.
The Hunter cocked their head curiously, gently running the fingertips of one hand along the man's face. He was dead. He had been given blood treatment, but had still died? But... the thing inside him... it felt like Paleblood. Why had he died?
Carefully brushing the man's hair away from his eyes, the Hunter raised their head to survey the room in its entirety once more, only now looking for something specific. Indeed, randomly distributed across the room were another three cots with Messengers clamoring to get to the people lying on them. Four dead? Very strange indeed.

The Hunter moved slowly towards the center of the room, taking a moment as they went to look at and caress the face of every transforming Paleblood on their way, wanting nothing more than to assure these people that even if the Healing Church saw them as nothing but tools, they had the Hunter's sympathy. Outside, where the sky had was turning crimson with the setting of the sun, howling could be heard in the distance. Somewhere else, much closer to the clinic, more howls answered the first. A Night of the Hunt, as marked by the tolling of the bells... ah, but the Healing Church had no idea. The Hunter could tell, though: this would not be a normal Night of the Hunt. This night could take days, weeks, months or even years. This was going to be a hunt to remember.

At the middle of the room the Hunter was met by four Messengers on the floor, waving their arms to gain their attention. The Hunter paused expectantly, and one of the Messengers held up one of its thin, bony arms high above its head and closed its fingers around something invisible, clearly miming that it was holding up a lamp. The Hunter shook their head and made a shooing gesture with its hand, and the four Messengers sullenly retreated back into the floor, disappearing into wherever Messengers went. The gatekeepers would find a different place to raise their marker. Not here. Having it here would be too easy.
The Hunter turned their head to the door and cocked their head once again, as if staring at it intently. The door was locked, likely in an effort to keep out the beasts that would be coming soon. It was durable... but not indestructible. Getting through would be quite possible, even if it was going to take a little while. And if these Palebloods could not find it in themselves to conquer the door, the beasts outside doubtlessly would.

Shrugging, the Hunter reached their right hand into one of the pockets of their coat and produced a human skull. They held the skull up high over their head before clenching their fingers into a fist, crushing the object in their grasp and unleashing a fine mist of whitish dust, strewn with specks of light that glittered like stars. Then the Hunter themselves abruptly lost opacity, rapidly turning transparent before, in a heartbeat, they were gone. Had it not been for the gently spreading dust of the skull, one might have been tempted to believe that the Hunter had been naught but a dream.

All that remained in the room was the Palebloods, and the host of Messengers doting on their sleeping masters. Howls echoed once more through the city of Yharnam, curdling the blood of many a Yharnamite who could do nothing but huddle closer to their censers, hoping against hope that they had enough incense to make it through the night.
Not Hunters, though, and most certainly not Paleblood Hunters... even false ones. A Hunter must hunt.
It was time to awaken.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Vicar Moira

Name: Moira
Race: Former Paleblood Hunter
Age: Late thirties
Faction: Black Healing Church
Appearance: Accused of being too manly for her own good, Moira has the look of someone who could not care less what she looks like, with a muscular body that bears its share of scars and a face dominated by sharp lines and early ravages of time. She has pale skin, brown eyes and wild, untamed brown hair that is unevenly cut for no other reason than to keep it shorter than shoulder-length, as if with shears.
Height: 178 cm (5' 10”)
Weight: 80 kg (176 lb)
Clothes: She wears what was once the uniform of the Hunters of Yahar'gul.
Hunter gear: Has been known to use a wide variety of Hunter weapons, but tends to favor the saw cleaver and blunderbuss.
Biography: A well-known veteran of the wars fought south of Yharnam, Moira arrived in Yharnam approximately one year after the Night of the Blood Moon and would likely have been offered to be made a Hunter even if she had not been a bearer of Paleblood due to her renown as a warrior. Afterwards, when Moira realized that she was now bound to the Hunter's Dream and could not die, she is said to have become the beasts' worst nightmare. During her reign as an immortal, Moira slaughtered more beasts than could even be counted; so many, in fact, that the huntsmen trailing behind her struggled to keep up with burning all the corpses. She hunted with complete disregard for anything but the hunt itself, paying no heed to whether her brutality was observed by civilians or whether the beasts still possessed some humanity; the moment someone showed the first signs of falling to the scourge of beasts, being noticed by Moira was a death sentence, leading Vicar Harold to excommunicate her from the Healing Church for repeated perceived murder of innocents. In spite of this Moira ended up becoming quite renowned and liked among Hunters for being helpful to them in the field, and to never show any hesitation to put herself in harm's way to protect her fellow Hunters.
What exactly Moira experienced during her time as a Paleblood Hunter is unknown, as she has not spoken of it to anyone else, but eventually she claimed to have been released from the dream and that her next death would be final. By then she had gained a reputation as a horrifyingly deadly Hunter, immortal or not, and though some Hunters tried to take advantage of her mortality to execute her for her crimes, none of them lived to tell the tale. It is said that even Dietrich of the Shining Wing balked at the prospect of challenging her, lending even greater merit to her legend.

Soon after her release from the Hunter's Dream Moira started rallying Hunters behind her, wanting to gather like-minded individuals who were willing to do what had to be done to exterminate the menace of the beasts. Preaching understanding for the hardships experienced by Hunters, tolerance of their need to hunt and wanting to secure better living conditions for them, it did not take Moira long to gain a significant following of Hunters, which in turn attracted others, until even clerics and blood ministers deserted the Healing Church to join her course.
Merely two months after having been made a Hunter, the clerics following Moira declared her their new vicar, a title she only grudgingly accepted, and formed a new Healing Church in her name. After a short period of quarreling with Harold's church the two vicars agreed on a truce – possibly because no one in Harold's church dared to fight against Moira and her Hunters – and the current schism of the church was created, officially naming Moira as the vicar and First Hunter of the Black Healing Church.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Dietrich of the Shining Wing

Name: Dietrich of the Shining Wing
Race: Hunter
Age: Early thirties
Faction: White Healing Church (also honorary Executioner)
Appearance: A man considered by many to be the epitome of nobility, masculinity and elegance, Dietrich is a quite handsome man who makes an obvious effort to maintain an appearance bordering on the perfect, seeming always freshly shaven, always with his shoulder-length golden-blonde hair in a clean pony-tail and always with a confident smile on his lips, occasionally revealing perfect, white teeth. He has a highly unusual eye-color that is such a pale blue that it seems almost white with a dark rim along the edge of the irises, making it seem as though his eyes almost shine with a light of their own. He is known to move with an easy grace that makes him as admired at noble courts as he is feared on the field of battle.
Height: 185 cm (6' 1”)
Weight: 93 kg (205 lb)
Clothes: He wears a white variant of what was once known as the uniform of the League, only without the helmet. Aside from having it tailored in white, the cape of the attire has also been altered to being nearly twice as long, reaching to just over the ground, and split in two down the middle until the middle of the back. Each half of the cape bears symmetrical silver-embroideries resembling stylized feathered wings.
Hunter gear: Wields his unique greatsword, the Shining Wing.
Biography: Rumored to be descended from royalty, an adventurous noble, a crusading knight and an actual prince, depending on who you ask, there is no shortage of stories to be told about Dietrich of the Shining Wing; so many, in fact, that no one has any idea what is truth and what is fabrication. All that is known for certain is that Dietrich came from the mountainous regions to the north of Yharnam and arrived about eight months after the Night of the Blood Moon, worn and battered by the harsh terrain that dominates the area and carrying nothing but the clothes on his back and an iron greatsword of the highest quality, already stained with blood.
Upon arriving in Yharnam word immediately started spreading of his exploits; of how he, a mere human, had personally slain numbers of beasts ranging from ten to two hundred, depending on the source. Though his legend was blatantly exaggerated, it soon became clear that Dietrich really was a formidable fighter and that he, after becoming a Hunter, was more than a match for anyone else in the service of the Healing Church. After proving his worth once and for all by personally slaying a fearsome blood-starved beast in the deepest parts of Old Yharnam during a failed effort to fully purge the area, Vicar Harold finally named Dietrich the “First Hunter” of the new Healing Church.
With the power and resources of his new position, Dietrich had a new uniform and weapon commissioned for himself, and began a campaign to exterminate the surge of beasts that emerged from the Night of the Blood Moon, as well as officially declaring the Vilebloods as the enemy of the church.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Vicar Harold

Name: Harold
Race: Cleric/Vicar (“Greater Yharnamite”)
Age: Early fifties
Faction: White Healing Church
Appearance: A somewhat feeble-seeming, dignified man, Harold is a strikingly average-sized man in many ways, lending to many believing that the frailty apparent in his behavior originates from a matter of health rather than fitness. With short hair, elegantly trimmed facial hair and normal-thickness eyebrows all in a light-gray color on an otherwise wrinkled, but masculine and sound-seeming face, it is clear to most that the vicar takes good care of himself. He has light-brown, heavy-lidded eyes and thin lips with pronounced smile lines.
Height: 180 cm (5' 11”)
Weight: 75 kg (165 lb)
Clothes: He wears the robe, trousers and boots that were once the uniform of the Choir.
Hunter gear: He is known to possess and be able to wield the Choir bell, with the power to reactivate the regenerative powers of anyone who hears it without the need for them to consume blood, and a roughly fist-sized, glowing larva capable of summoning devastating arcane powers from worlds unknown.
Biography: Not much is known of Harold from before he became the first vicar of the new Healing Church. After the Night of the Blood Moon, when the population of Yharnam and its fiefs was in disarray, Harold simply showed up and started putting the church back together with an implied wisdom and authority that none, for a time, thought to question. Providing funds from sources unknown Harold organized the repairs and citizen relief-efforts that ultimately lead to the recovery of the city.
Due to his innate charisma, intelligence and resourcefulness, Harold was, to most, the obvious choice when the Healing Church arose anew and needed a new vicar.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

A second attempt at this story. Unlike my last attempt, this iteration will be by invitation only in order to hopefully avoid issues with player retention.

This RP takes 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.

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 has 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.

Note on scene descriptions

I purposefully don't necessarily describe everything in a scene to the greatest possible detail or with perfect accuracy. I will usually mention plainly obvious things in a scene that pretty much anyone would be able to perceive without even trying - or, when I'm writing from the perspective of a particular character rather than a disembodied narrator, describe what that character in particular is perceiving - but there might be more that I'm not mentioning, or that the characters wouldn't be able to know without making an effort to figure out.
For instance, at one point Victor was searching the remains of a destroyed cabinet in the reception of the clinic and found a box. I had described the debris prior to this, but not hinted that there was anything in there.

Now, I don't intend this to be either an escape-room-ish you-need-to-look-specifically-at-everything-one-pixel-at-a-time nor a table-top kind of situation where you can fail skill-checks or dice rolls. My idea is that if a character wants to actively try to perceive something somehow, you just say so and I will supply the results of their surveying. Focused examination will give a very detailed description, and broad examination (say, "look around and listen carefully") a more general description, though probably still more detailed than what I throw at you "for free".

If you at any point start to feel that this kind of setup is annoying or any way detrimental to your enjoyment, just say so and I will start dropping more hints as to where the characters might find interesting things.

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.

The current state of IC areas

Yharnam proper
Thanks in large part to the efforts of Vicar Harold and his followers, the city of Yharnam has seen not only a recovery from the damage done in the Night of the Blood Moon, but in many ways has surpassed its old self. Efforts to mass-recruit Hunters have lead to an initial sharp decline in the number of beasts and easier handling of Nights of the Hunt when they arise, and judicious application of funds and resources have lead to the reestablishment and general improvement of the infrastructure. Destroyed buildings have been either rebuilt or replaced, all while new residences are being erected at the edge of the city to support an anticipated increase in population from immigration encouragement efforts. Many new clinics dot the city, manned not only by the highly valued blood ministers, but also clerics of the White Church, offering blood treatment more eagerly and willingly than ever before.
But although the city has been trending toward apparent improvement and Yharnamites are not as fearful of church Hunters as they once were, there remains an oppressive atmosphere and constant cautious mood in the city, as new threats loom. Stories circulate frequently of citizens being robbed by the Fire Dancers or murdered by the Harrow, to the point where these two factions have all but replaced the dread once reserved for the Healing Church and beasts.
And while beasts are normally less numerous than before, many worry that the high number of Hunters might be unsustainable in the long run... especially if they are ever actually successful in exterminating the scourge of beasts.

Old Yharnam
With its fires long-extinguished and its waters mostly purified, efforts have begun to reclaim and rebuild Old Yharnam, which has resulted in actually habitable residences slowly appearing along the edge between it and Yharnam proper, as the swelling city moves to swallow the remains of the obsolete ruins. Journeys into Old Yharnam remain frequent among Hunters, often going in parties of at least several Hunters together, and they always emerge from the old city bloodied. However such a thing is possible it seems that Old Yharnam remains a perceived safe haven among relatively sapient beasts, many of which remain wizened by the ruinous Ashen Blood that is both their burden and their most powerful weapon against Hunters. Even now, so many years after the fact, no one truly knows just how many beasts have gathered in the depths of the old city... or what it is that draws even savage beasts there, despite the loss of their Good Chalice and the death of Djura.

Hemwick Charnel Lane
After the Night of the Blood Moon, the district of Hemwick – an area of the city specialized in the handling of the dead – actually entered a brief golden age where everything seemed to go well. With the Witches of Hemwick dead and Martyr Alfred's destruction of Queen Annalise, Hunters no longer had any reason to care about their home and mostly left them alone, and with the sheer number of corpses produced during the Night of the Blood Moon, business was blooming. The Executioners, expecting the Vilebloods to have been wiped out, stopped patrolling their land, and the few sane people of Hemwick no longer even had to live with the occasional unnerving encounter with the Mad Ones.
This peace and prosperity was, however, short-lived. It was not long before people of Hemwick discovered that the witches and their Mad Ones had been a major factor in keeping beasts away from their home; without them and with a mountain of fresh corpses being moved through their district, beasts soon followed en masse, which in turn brought Hunters. Things got worse still once it got out that some Hunters going to Hemwick were seemingly deserting the church, only for the district to finally receive its mortal blow once it was discovered that these deserters were, in fact, joining and rebuilding the Vilebloods.
Today only a handful of devoted and disturbed souls inhabit Hemwick, taking care of the dead as they always have, with the majority of survivors having fled what is now a mix between a battlefield and hunting grounds, as Hunters, Vilebloods and beasts all hunt, fight and kill one another with wild abandon.

Byrgenwerth
With the gates of the Forbidden Forest loosened by the speaking of the adage, the Forbidden Graves cleansed with slaying the Shadows of Yharnam and the old college left without a master after the death of Master Willem, Byrgenwerth is in a very different situation than it was prior to the Night of the Blood Moon. Initially pillaged by industrious looters and subsequently inhabited by outlaws, it was not long before the recovering Healing Church moved into the forest and laid claim to the invaluable site, where they reopened the entrance to the old labyrinth. It and the surrounding forest is once again forbidden to the general populace, and only those on official church business – specifically, White Church business – are allowed anywhere near Byrgenwerth, with the place reportedly being guarded by loyal Hunters and church giants.

Yahar'gul
Very little is known about what become of Yahar'gul after the Night of the Blood Moon, the destruction of the School of Mensis and the death of every single inhabitant. People are strongly discouraged from even mentioning the place, and all known entrances to the town have been thoroughly sealed. No human has set foot in the town for nearly five years... and yet those who roam near the edge of the place often claim to have heard panicked screaming from within.

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.

I also strongly recommend that you update your CS as you go with any changes to your character's possessions or appearance, or even what they have experienced since the start of their story.

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.

Quickstep

Quickstepping requires the Hunter to draw upon their beast-blood, making it very taxing for them to use and likely to fatigue them quickly if overused, though stronger Hunters can obviously handle more, just as superhuman strength or speed normally would. I imagine quickstepping to be a combination of two things, the first of which is an extremely fast horizontal lunge, hurdling oneself up to five meters (about sixteen and a half feet) in a direction without touching the ground before the end of the "step". During the half a second or so the quickstep lasts, Hunters will have massively boosted instincts and reflexes, allowing them to sense danger approaching and often weave past it by manipulating their body mid-step to evade danger.
This isn't to say that it's exactly like iframes from the game, though: not everything can be quickstepped through. Something approaching the Hunter from just inches away, for instance, is probably going to hit before they can move out of the way. Similarly, while legs, arms and head can be manipulated in mid air, the torso - center of mass - is a lot harder to move, and might require action to be taken when initiating the quickstep rather than during it, like crouching down or jumping just as one does it (or, alternatively, just not quickstepping into an attack). Likewise, things that can't logically be dodged, like fire, explosions or generally just very large objects of hurt coming the Hunter's way, which would require the Hunter not to dodge, but to actually phase through danger, will still hit (and might hit even harder than otherwise, depending on the Hunter's trajectory).
One final note: this obviously applies to everything capable of quickstepping, be they player Hunters, NPC Hunters or other beings capable of quickstepping, though the speed and distance moved might vary.

Non-canon equipment

Trick weapons

Shining Wing - Unique
Shortly after the fragmentation of the Healing Church and the subsequent rise of Dietrich as the lead Hunter of the white church, the man reputedly found himself wanting to forge a legacy to rival that of his predecessors. Being especially enamored with the first champion of the Healing Church, Ludwig, the Holy Blade, Dietrich decided to have a new weapon designed specifically for himself, that he might one day attain the same reverence.
This weapon, named Shining Wing, is a two-handed sword heavily inspired by Ludwig's Holy Blade, yet with some cosmetic and functional differences. For one the blade is narrower and lighter than the scabbard-blade of the Holy Blade, and rather than being decorated with intricate carvings, Shining Wing is perfectly smooth and known to gleam like polished silver. Functionally the difference is simple: rather than detaching the entire hilt of the weapon from the scabbard-blade to separate the smaller sword inside it, Shining Wing instead sheathes the small sword into just the upper half of the handle, meaning that even when one draws the inner sword, the scabbard-blade still has a small hilt left suited for one-handed use.
While Dietrich has proven time and again that Shining Wing is a versatile and fearsome weapon, wielding the greater sword in one hand is extremely hard and requires immense strength, meaning that every one-handed swing with it requires a significant boost of power from the beast blood.

Impaler
Some time after the Night of the Blood Moon, after the fragmentation of the Healing Church, the black church started reexamining some of the older, formerly rejected trick weapon designs from workshops such as the Powder Kegs. One such weapon was the stake driver, which, though initially discarded as being generally unsuited for hunting beasts, eventually caught their attention due to its mechanical design.
Wondering why the Powder Kegs only used this mechanism for such a compact weapon, the Black Healing Church set to replicating the mechanism in a new weapon, called the impaler. Rather than a clumsy fist-weapon, the impaler was fashioned as a spear that, by retracting the outmost third of the shaft of the spear through the mechanism and into the hollow core of the base, could be primed to explosively release stored energy and propel nearly two feet of spear forward with enough force to punch through almost anything.
The design did not prove very popular, however, as the black church discovered why the Powder Kegs had kept it so small: the impaler, due to both the mechanism and the reinforcements necessary to ensure the durability of the weapon, is very heavy and cumbersome to use. Due to its weight and the general difficulty of using piercing weapons against regenerating enemies, the impaler was simply a too difficult weapon to use and too expensive to make. Only a handful were ever made, and most of those are merely gathering dust.

Bulwark
With Hunters being in short supply after the Night of the Blood Moon and numbers being stretched even more thinly by skirmishes with the other factions, the White Healing Church sought to innovate trick weapons and create a tool that could be used effectively for slaying beasts as well as protecting the wielder. In spite of the derision for shields that had been pervasive among Hunters since the days of Gehrman, they sought about to create a weaponized shield for hunting.
The result of this pursuit was the bulwark: a silver double-edged broadsword with a two-handed grip that, when transformed, dislodges its edges and reveals that another four small blades - two on either side - are stored inside the main blade, extending outward to effectively quadruple the width of the sword. Each of the small inner blades rapidly shoots out to fit their inner edge against the outer edge of the blade before them, and can - somewhat more slowly and with more effort - be retracted back inside the broadsword again.
While the intended use of the bulwark was as a sword that could also act as a shield, it did not take long for Hunters to discover a happy side-effect of the transformation of the weapon: stabbing something with bulwark and then deploying the shield while still embedded proved extremely effective at wounding beasts.

Beastflayer
An innovation based on the threaded cane, and to a lesser extent the beast cutter, beastflayers work on the same principle as especially the cane, having a normally straight, rigid body that splits into small, sharp segments connected by flexible wires. The difference between the threaded cane and beastflayer, then, is that whereas the cane is a mere 70 cm (28") long when not in its whip-form, beastflayers are an intimidating 180 cm (71") long and end in a 20 cm (8") long leaf-shaped blade. In short, a beastflayer is a glaive that transforms into a whip of comparable reach to that of a transformed beastcutter, ending in a larger blade. It can be used by doing minor damage with its barbed length, or greater damage with the heavier blade at its tip, allowing it to be used as a flail as well as a whip.

Characters

The Party
Ophelia, True Paleblood Hunter - played by Tuujaimaa
Farren, False Paleblood Hunter - played by yoshua171
Torquil, Paleblood Hunter? - played by Dark Jack

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NPCs
Harold, Vicar of the white Healing Church
Dietrich of the Shining Wing, First Hunter of the White Healing Church
Mother Moira, Vicar and First Hunter of the black Healing Church

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Jordan, Nabi, Madara and Jaelnec – Traversing and leaving Bor Manor, Borstown

Throughout the business retrieving the sole survivor out of all of Baroness Bor's guests Jaelnec said nothing and did very little aside from just being present, watching and listening while shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. This was how he was used to acting and how Freagon demanded he behaved most of the time – to let more experienced and competent people handle important business and concentrate on learning through observation – but he was unsure whether these people expected more from him.
Truthfully, he wanted to do more. Jaelnec wanted to be more than just a passenger riding along for someone else's adventure, more than someone that just watched others brave mortal danger, perform heroics, and earning gratitude and admiration. How many times had he dreamed of himself in his master's place; vanquishing horrifying monsters and terrible evils with ease, saving would-be victims from mortal danger, all without even a hint of fear or hesitation?
But in the end he was still just a page; according to Freagon, Jaelnec was not ready for more than that. Jordan had been made a squire by his master and had already distinguished himself in the battle against the wraiths and ghouls. He did not know anything about the two women, but they both seemed quite comfortable taking more active roles in proceedings as well.
Out of everyone there, the one Jaelnec thought was closest to his own pathetic place in the world was probably this Tedwyn-fellow, obviously just pretending to be a fighter and a hero, only to barricade himself in a room and hide while crying impotently when danger presented itself. Was Jaelnec not the same, walking around with a sword on his hip like a warrior, only to stay behind and let everyone else face the danger while he cowered in safety?
He was disgusted with his own weakness; though he had sparred with his master daily for fifteen years, he still could not last more than a handful of seconds against him before being beaten to the ground. At this rate he would never be ready to be named Freagon's squire.

Jaelnec made sure to return the truncheons he had been carrying around uselessly as their half of the party made it through the armory of Bor Manor on their way outside, which delayed him a second or two in catching up with Jordan, Nabi, Madara and Tedwyn. He arrived as Jordan finished introducing himself and was starting to report the whereabouts of Lady Bor.
Outside, along the cobbled path serving as the approach to Bor Manor, they were met by the sight of what was left of the staff of Bor Manor. The three of them they had seen on their way in: the muscular man who had rung the bell and spoken to Madara earlier, but who had not offered his own name, only named everyone else; the well-groomed man called Wade; and the rotund woman in an apron named Kylie. Those three were crowding around a fourth man, who they might surmise was most likely the one called Quintin.
Quintin stood taller than the people around him, looking to be nearly a full two meters tall, with long legs and athletic physique, and looked like he was probably stronger than anyone else working in Bor Manor. He was clad in a greenish brown hooded cloak, with the hood currently being swept back, which seemed big enough for it to easily wrap around his entire body while still allowing him enough room to move. He as clad in a light suit of brown brigandine as well as armored boots, gauntlets and greaves and carried a dull-gray great helm tucked under his right arm. His left hand clutched a war bow, matched with a quiver of arrows on his right hip, and he had a slender longsword sheathed on his left hip along with what appeared to be at least three different daggers.
He looked to be in his late forties, with shortish, messy hair that was half-brown and half-gray, and struck an imposing figure. Unlike pretty much every other fighter they had met in Borstown, unless you counted the baroness herself, Quintin appeared to be completely unharmed despite the tribulations he had been through... which suggested that the dark-red splotches on the hem of his cloak, his gauntlets and the chest of his armor was not his blood.
The three others seemed overjoyed that their fourth had returned, but Quintin seemed a little uncomfortable with all the attention. He instantly switched his focus to Jordan and his half of the party as soon as they appeared in the doorway and appeared to listen intently as Jordan spoke, staring at him with sharp brown eyes.
“Quintin,” he introduced himself, speaking quickly and clearly. “The bandits took our healer to an abandoned farm about an hour's walk north of here, on the other side of the forest. In addition to the sixteen survivors from the raid on Borstown, I counted at least another ten. They didn't seem in a hurry to leave and had several patrols in the area, but it's clearly not somewhere they've stayed for long either. They have horses; if they leave, we probably won't be able to catch them.”

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, and Yanin – Upstairs Guest Bedroom, Bor Manor, Borstown

Vela listened to Yanin and – going into significantly more detail – Irah's report of the situation without opening her eyes, her body-language speaking of regret and relief in equal measure. It might be easy for Irah and Lhirin to forget with how they were mainly used to dealing with other deigan, who were as ageless as themselves, or humans, among which even the ancient-looking were rarely as old as them, but penin lived quite long lives. For a penin to seem as old as the baroness did, chances were that she was nearly three hundred years old, which would make her far older than either of them. Given the stories they might very well be familiar with since they were here now she had spent at least a human lifetime as an adventurer with the Melody of Freedom. As much as the two deigans had a wealth of experience that was already beyond what was achievable for most humans, old Vela Bor had likely seen more than both of them combined.

“Assistance will not be necessary,” Caleb supplied when Irah reported on his intention to return to the Neverrealm and the probable willingness for one of them to kill him to send him on his way. “I can break my tether to this vessel by my own will... though I suppose I can let you slay me, if you worry that I will try to trick you. So you know for certain that I am gone.”

Only once Irah finished the last part of her did the penin open her eyes, her posture straightened and the heavy weariness that had assailed her was pushed back through sheer force of will.
“The scout, as you say, returned just a few minutes ago,” she told them, her demeanor abruptly turning focused and disciplined. “I'm glad that you're already rarin' to go get Bren, 'cause I was going to ask for your help. I'll be going myself, along with at least two of my hired hands. We already know where they took him.”
“The mages might need rest first,” Freagon spoke up from his place by the bed, seemingly much more attentive now than he had been throughout their conversation with the thalk, “but the boy and I are ready to go. Probably Sir Yanin and his boy, too.”
Vela nodded her head, a bit curious about just what had happened in the short time since this group had been introduced to each other. Irah and Lhirin were the only ones that had actually introduced themselves to her yet, so she was able to deduce that the “Lhirin” Irah mentioned before was likely the abbreviated version of Lhirinthyl, and the old knight's reference to Sir Yanin as someone other than himself suggested that it was likely the human swordsman... which meant that Irah had prompted those two to speak, but not this nightwalker. She wondered why.
“You will be rewarded for this, too, of course, and there is more to discuss... though I think it would be better to save it for when everyone is present. Time is of the essence, and Quintin probably has more answers for you than I do. For now, I'd like all of us to assemble in front of the manor.” She shot a sidelong glance at the fallen angel. “You, too, Caleb. Even if we couldn't use all the help we could get, I'm not cruel enough to stop you from finishing what Feevesha gave her life to do.”

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, and Yanin – Upstairs Guest Bedroom, Bor Manor, Borstown

After Irah's rather lengthy speech, Caleb spent a moment simply staring at her before replying: “You presume much, Deo'irah,” he said bluntly, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “What I can agree with is that actions matter. I said I would help with the bandits in Feevesha's honor, and that is as far as I will go for pretty words.”

To Yanin's question of whether the thalk preferred to live in exile, Caleb shrugged answered: “It is how it is; I cannot currently change my situation. I am shunned in the divine realms, and I am feared and hated in the Corerealm. Eternity lies before me, things will inevitably change, but I can only exist in the present.”

Ultimately the topic turned to more current concerns as Yanin determined that they would soon have to deal with the baroness and asked Irah to do the talking. Irah, in turn, inquired as to whether their approach should be based on diplomacy or subterfuge, with the implied practical choice being whether to to be upfront about Caleb's nature or to try to hide it.
Though he did not directly say it, the Knight of the Glades' arguments were clearly in favor of honesty.
Freagon, whose gaze had slowly drifted to the window next to him which he had spent most of the conversation staring out of in silence, finally turned his attention back to the room. “'Death before dishonor, dishonor before disloyalty,'” he grumbled, quoting two lines of the code of the Knighthood of the Will. “We currently work for Bor; the honorable and loyal thing to do would be telling the truth.”
Caleb nodded in agreement over in his corner. “I could disguise myself as long as I stand still, but as soon as I move I will not have the energy to do so; she would discover my nature sooner or later. If she takes offense, simply kill me.”

Regardless of whether there was more to be said or done among themselves, there was no time; barely had the divine's True Words come over his lips before the diminutive form of the penin woman they had met outside the manor stepped into the doorway. She was still wielding her crossbow with a bolt loaded and ready to be loosed in an instant, the weapon raised and her fingers on the trigger lever.
She did not aim the weapon at anyone in particular, however, but seemed to merely hold it in her hands as her eyes instantly darted to the fallen angel in the corner, upon which her shoulders seemed to immediately sag. She let her gaze sweep over the room left to right quickly, taking in the scene before her and everyone's demeanor, until looking at Freagon's relaxed stance, bored expression, sheathed sword and unequipped helmet.
The crossbow dropped as her entire posture shifted from wary and combat-ready to exhausted and disheartened in a second. “G'vaas,” she muttered under her breath. She looked at the thalk again, though she seemed to have aged several decades in the couple of seconds that had passed since seeing him the first time. “I presume you're Caleb.”
Caleb recoiled slightly, clearly surprised to hear those words. “You know of me?”
“Feevesha told me about you,” the woman explained with a slight nod of her head, though she moved as though she barely had the energy to do even that. “Foolish girl... I warned her about piaan.”
She closed her eyes in resignation and asked: “Is it over?”

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, and Yanin – Upstairs Guest Bedroom, Bor Manor, Borstown

“Do you, by any chance, have at least an inkling what the divines or mundane slaves were kept for, or any other names that might have been mentioned?”
Caleb took a moment to quietly contemplate Yanin's question. “I never actually met any of the other divines, nor have I even seen Hai'vreh'era with my own eyes or heard his voice. Most of what I know I overheard from hushed conversations in the rare instances that two slaves entered my basement at the same time, or what Feevesha told me. The slaves were told very little, just given practical instructions... though some of the words they used lead me to think Hai'vreh'era was doing some kind of experimentation. Most of the other angels were never used for anything; he simply summoned them, put them in binding circles and left them there. I do know he also put his slaves in binding circles occasionally, but I do not know why.”
He paused for a second to think before adding: “Most of the names I heard belonged to the slaves, of course, but aside from that... I heard Algar Lowcreek mentioned once or twice. And Paul IV. But I have little context besides the names, and Feevesha knew nothing of them aside from them being rulers of Rodoria.”

“What awaits you in Drigall?”
“Exile, most likely,” the thalk stated with a shrug. “But I hope against hope that I might find Feevesha there. Otherwise, perhaps I can earn my old Lord's forgiveness... or perhaps forge a pact with another god or archangel, that I might be redeemed.”