The woman's body was cold.
Her lack of a pulse left a somber, unsettling emptiness in its wake. This had once been a person. Whatever she was like, whatever plans she'd had, whatever bonds she'd formed, she was gone now. It was a tragic awareness that Arcturus had become familiar with. Though he'd never quite grown used to it.
Distinctly unfamiliar to him however was what appeared to be the cause of her death. Whatever had blackened her veins and paled her flesh. Never before had he seen a body in such a state. Still more perplexing was the fact that she had died at all, presumably taken by whatever disease had brought her to the very place they were in. Wherever that was. Had the patients lined up upon those many cots not all been treated with Yharnam blood? Was not that very substance said to be a cure to all illnesses? Such were the rumors that had brought him to the reclusive city in the first place, after all.
Perhaps some skepticism, caution even, was warranted. Even after experiencing the results of the treatment for himself. Whatever the cause, this woman had died despite having received Yharnam's so called panacea. Assuming she had received it at all, of course, but he figured that was likely a safe assumption to make.
That train of thought was abruptly interrupted when suddenly a group of those small, ethereal seeming creatures from before burst out of the floor. Surrounding him. Reflexively Arcturus sprang back to his feet, taking in a sharp breath as his startled heart leaped in his chest. Before he could take much more action, however, he realized just what they were. Remembering how they had proved themselves harmless before. These strange, otherworldly looking... 'little men,' as coined by the man calling himself Marcus.
Slowly the young officer let his breath back out in sigh, staring curiously down at the odd creatures around him as he allowed himself to relax somewhat. Taking another glance around the room, he noted that they had appeared near the other two as well. Gesturing and moaning with animated movements. It was somewhat... Endearing. Though their inexplicable presence still left him slightly uncomfortable. By this point he was relatively confident in the reality of the situation. That it wasn't a dream, that all the surreal things he had witnessed over the last several minutes had truly happened. The sensation of being kicked across the room had certainly been evidence enough of that. Yet he still couldn't help questioning what he was seeing. Only the reactions of his new allies provided reassurance enough that he was not, in fact, hallucinating.
It was the sound of approaching footsteps that pulled his attention away from the uncanny yet friendly seeming creatures at his feet. Arcturus turned his head to regard the other man, his icy blue eyes briefly doing a once over of... T-... However that name was pronounced. He dare not attempt to say it out loud until he heard it more clearly. This man looked to be well worn. Callused, tanned, and scarred. Yet the way he carried himself did not strike Arcturus as particularly experienced. At least not experienced in the way he tended to look for. Still the man looked quite strong, and seemed comfortable with the axe in his hand. The young man wasn't quite sure what to think of this. Perhaps this muscled man had trained to use an axe, but never seen combat? That explanation would be odd, if true, and still didn't quite fit.
Lastly it looked like there was something off about the other man's face. His jaw looked crooked, as if broken, or more accurately as if broken in the past. So that might be why Arcturus couldn't understand a word of what he'd overheard earlier. Presumably. His piercing stare didn't linger long on that feature, however, as the older man waved and gestured towards the door. Arching an eyebrow at the choice of communication, he glanced towards the doorway to see that Marcus had already gone through. Emanating from that same exit he could hear the fading footfalls of fleeing men.
The sound caused his heart to pound faster in his chest, an involuntary reaction that caught Arcturus off guard. It was the opportunity of a fleeing foe, engraved into his instincts, triggering an unsettling urge. An aggressive impulse that bordered on predatory. He noticed his breaths quicken, his hand tightening slightly around the hilt of his sword, as he felt a desire to pursue. It was only for a moment however, as he drew in a deep breath and further straightened his already rigid posture. Discipline, Arcturus.
Putting a cordial smile on his face, Arcturus swiftly turned his gaze back to the man next to him, issuing a brief nod before drawing in breath to speak.
"We should get our bearings, determine where exactly we are..." He began, heading towards the broken doorway where the ethereal 'little men' beckoned. That small opening which not long before had served as crucial buffer against their still unidentified foes. Despite the uncertainty of the situation and the unnatural impulse he'd just felt, Arcturus spoke with a confident tone. Maintaining an air that he knew what he was doing even if he was perhaps the most lost person in the room. Every word enunciated with a refined yet foreign accent.
"...and why we were..." 'Attacked' is how he'd intended to finish that sentence. However the words died on his lips as he reached the door, his bright eyes peering into the blood covered room.
The pleasant hue of scarlet assaulted his eyes as they first fixed upon the unusual lamp and the assembly of yet more little men surrounding it. As well as the rolled up parchment seemingly being presented to Marcus by two of their number. Experience nagged at him to evaluate the room, so after a couple seconds of gawking he then turned his attention to the corpses whom had surely bled that which coated the floor. One of the corpses lying before him looked much like the men who earlier had peered in it at them. A fallen enemy. However not as notable as the two bodies which lie in the corner of the room.
One looked to be freakishly tall and unnervingly pale, with a bell and a cane lying nearby. The bell, no doubt. Just the memory of its haunting sound sent a shiver down his spine. The body looked to have been completely cleaved in half, and he didn't have to look very hard to find a probable culprit. Another body, this one dressed in attire of an ecclesiastical fashion, was completely drenched in blood. Far more blood than he would have expected considering the scope of the fight and the injuries of the bodies. Lying next to that figure was a likely, if absurd, candidate for the weapon that had silenced the bell. A truly massive sword, decorated with a beautiful pattern along its impractically thick blade. He would have dismissed it as a purely ceremonial weapon, were it not for the mind boggling feats of strength and resilience he had already witnessed since he awoke. Not to mention the blood clearly splattered all along its length.
Finally his eyes settled on a small figure on the other side of the room, draped in white. He'd almost failed to notice her. Young, delicate, innocent. The last kind of person he would have expected to find in the aftermath of a skirmish. What was she doing in such a place? Arcturus' eyes drifted back to the blood drenched man on the ground, where a pair of those little men were tugging at the pouch on the his hip. It was then that he noticed the man's hand moving. It was a small, weak, yet still unmistakable sign of life.
He gave a brief, uncertain glance towards the other two before making up his mind. Quickly he strode further into the room, setting his saber down next to the massive blade as he knelt beside the blood covered man. Hurriedly he scanned the body for whatever injuries might have incapacitated this person, something that might justify all that blood, before turning his attention to the pouch. What could it contain that a dying man would consider it important enough to retrieve? After a moment of hesitation, glancing at the stranger's face, he took it upon himself to open the pouch and see what it contained.
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