Hunter's Clinic, in the outskirts of Yharnam
Needless to say, Torquil was quite surprised and disturbed by the sight of the large, monstrous inky-black figure that climbed out of the glowing spot in the floor, seemingly called by the unnatural timbre of the hoarse man's bell. It was more than just its clearly supernatural nature, size and strength, too; everything about it just screamed “wrong” to him, from the way it moved to the weirdly blank expression on its inhuman face. It seemed less like what one would traditionally term a creature and more like a puppet, dispassionately following the unspoken commands of its master.
Somewhere in the far reaches of his memory, Torquil thought he had a vague recollection of seeing creatures like the Mad One before, though only from afar. The image of them he had in his mind also featured them with brightly glowing white eyes and them being much more animated and, for the lack of a better term, alive. He had no idea what to think of the creature, let alone whatever eldritch means the hoarse man had used to... summon it? Create it? Reveal it? Either way he was clueless on the mechanics of what had just happened, so as usual he was happy to leave the pondering of such matters to Ophelia and Farren.
Torquil followed Ophelia from the back room into the reception, and felt unexpectedly relieved to see that there were still Messengers in here. More than anything, though, he felt his gaze drawn to the pale, ghostly light of the lantern. He felt a strange compulsion to approach it and stare at it, the very sight of that gentle radiance setting his mind at ease and made him feel oddly comfortable, like being wrapped in a nice, snug blanket. The lantern, bizarrely, felt like home.
If Ophelia looked at the lantern for any length of time she would get a similar feeling from it, but for now her attention was more focused on the two Messengers holding a rolled-up scroll between them. As she approached, the little creatures eagerly raised the scroll and unrolled it, showing her the writing of a verse – handwritten in exquisite calligraphy – inside:
“Glance calmly upon the lantern's pale gleam,
and find safe haven within the Hunter's Dream.”
Behind Ophelia and Torquil the rest of their entourage started making their way back into the reception, one by one passing through the door with their freshly acquired load of sleeping men and women. First came the beast man, carrying a total of six sleepers; two on each shoulder and one under each powerful, sinewy arm. Then came the Mad One, hauling three sleepers under each arm. Then came the huntsmen, each of which was awkwardly carrying just one sleeper each, and all of whom made sure to go stand in the corner of the room furthest away from the beast-man and Mad One. And finally came the hoarse man, the only one out of all of them to not carry anyone.
Quite notably, none of the others seemed to so much as glance at the Messengers or the lantern. Despite the fact that there was now a new and very obvious light-source in the middle of the room, not a single one of them even seemed to notice.
But at least one of them noticed something else. Immediately after leaving the back room of the clinic, the hoarse man's black eyes went straight to the closed front door, and his eyes instantly narrowed suspiciously. He scanned the reception, his expression rapidly settling into a sneer.
“Drop Hunters,” he commanded. He pointed at the front door. “Door closed. Open before. Male Hunter missing.”
While the Mad One immediately obeyed, simply letting go of its cargo and letting the sleepers flop onto the floor where it stood, and the beast-man and huntsmen hesitantly put down their hauls, too, Torquil would turned to Ophelia with an uncertain expression. Should he obey the hoarse man, or did she and Farren have a plan?
“Hunters,” the hoarse man hissed, looking straight at Torquil and Ophelia. “Open door. Go outside.”