Tuujaimaa

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Glowy ones are the priority, makes sense. We should keep our ranged weapons stocked and ready..." Ophelia spoke in reply to Gerlinde, using her free hand to check the Evelyn at her hip and feel it in her hand. The Holy Moonlight Sword could provide her with ranged attacks, too, so she was confident in her options--but this would be good to learn. She examined it closely, got used to its feel in her hand, though she didn't fire off any practice shots as they walked. She asked Farren for some pointers, too, figuring that he'd been close enough to Hunters in what he'd revealed of his past life to have some tips.

The Amygdalae were something Ophelia found terribly curious, and she found herself reaching to meet their gaze whenever they turned their heads to meet her. She tried her best not to let it affect her leading them towards where she'd seen, allowing herself only to steal glimpses where appropriate and marvel at the scale of it all.

"I suppose I've gained enough eyes to see them without the aid of Runes, now... There are so many. Whatever happened here must be of great interest to Amygdala; I wonder what they're really like, or... what they represent. I wonder if the Great Ones even align to concepts we're capable of really understanding..." Ophelia mused out loud, before her gaze came upon a section of wall practically crawling in sprites--and with none of the Great One, to boot.

"Ah, look here, loves... No Amygdala--and Mother Moon's light reveals a strong touch of Nightmare about this wall in particular. Perhaps there's an entrance here, hidden to most?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"No, dear, I never had the chance. Emissaries came from here to meet the Witches, not the other way around. I confess I had wild fantasies of following them back, sometimes, but I was never healthy enough to seriously consider the attempt. I could lead us to the place I saw here in the Memory of Stars, though, if you like? Where Naira found that poor scavenger..." Ophelia replied softly, much more relaxed and confident now that she'd returned to the Guidance rune.

"How did your new weapons feel? A far cry from when we had to fight that beastman with children's toys by comparison, I'm sure. I haven't gotten to actually use my blade yet, and... I find myself oddly eager to. Danger without the stench of fear is... oddly exhilarating, isn't it?" Ophelia mused as she led them south to where she'd seen the vision. She surveyed her surroundings with exacting detail, looking close for any of the little Guidance sprites that flitted about or anything that seemed out of place. Farren and Torquil emitted their usual amount, and Gerlinde was much more abuzz with them--which all made sense.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia waited for that usual feeling of the Waking World to come back into being, like a heavy veil of unseen mist or a diaphanous sheet of silk being lifted gently away--only to find that the peaceful etherealness of the Dream was not the only mode of experience the Nightmare offered. She felt here the keening song of those whose desires had eclipsed their sense of humanity, their eagerness for insights beyond this world such that they felt it worthwhile to enact a calamity so profound its effects were still felt even now--she felt their loss and their rage, their fear and their dolour, all with a screeching overtone of an agony that could only be felt rather than understood. It did not rattle her, but surprised her deeply to transition from the closeness of her guiding moonlight's bright embrace to feeling its distance dim without the benefit of the Guidance rune... like she'd been before. It was close enough to Hemwick that it reminded her of there, and it felt in a bizzare way almost like home, but many times stronger than it had ever felt and without the kinship and warmth of her coven. She shuddered briefly, and looked around at the desolation that had been caused here at the epicentre of it all. Where she'd seen Naira utterly evaporate a scavenger and take notes on the results. Up at the Amygdala. She tilted her head curiously, bringing her right forefinger to her mouth as she observed them, and then pursed her lips as her hand returned to her side.

"So that's what they look like. Almost... insectoid? But... reminiscent of a tumour, or... or a tonsil, perhaps? Maybe even something of fungus? The beings of Nightmare must look at us with this same incredulity, this same lack of familiarity... I suppose we are to them what animals are to us? It's nice to see you for once, Amygdala." Ophelia mused, her voice that particular wavering tone that suggested she didn't know whether to laugh or cry... but it rang out clarion-clear, without any vacillation. She turned to Gerlinde, and smiled a very wan smile indeed.

"So this is how you experience the world... Does it hurt too much, to return to what it's like to be flesh and blood? Does the agony here resonate with yours? Oh, love..." Ophelia asked, eyes wide and almost sparkling from a hint of moisture. She quickly took the runebrand, visualised the Guidance rune, and pressed it to her skin. The phantom pain was something she never even flinched at, but here it seemed to resonate as though with the chimes of a bell. She still had Pallid's bell on her, she recalled, or with the Messengers perhaps, and she noted how each peal and clang's resonance had felt as it caused something dreadful within her to build. Only this time the climax was the rune taking hold, knowledge and understanding blossoming within her like a flower... and then the bliss of gentle moonlight once more, and the weak and distant light of her sword grown just as bright as it had felt in the dream.

"Ahh, that's better. I'm sorry, love, you'll have to bear the brunt of the creatures of Nightmare alone. I require the services of another rune--and between us, naught will escape our notice. Do you remember how we're supposed to... get in?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

When nothing happened, Ophelia was momentarily crushed--there was no love, no sensation, no communion. In that moment she remembered the nature of the Hunger rune, about what it was that she was trying to draw out of this creature, and realised that it was not Mother Kos at all. It was just a creature that had feasted upon her essence, and that her own communion would require her own feast. That was the knowledge the Hunger rune imparted, and it disgusted her. She wanted to be free of the gnawing sensation in her mind, the odd gurgles and rumbles of her stomach that had suddenly started--or that she'd imagined--and she instinctively reached for the runebrand before realising it was still with Farren.

"Not you? I struggle to imagine Moira struggling against Skinner... But I suppose knowing how long he lived and how little of his faculties must have remained, it could be true. Perhaps we ought have interrogated him more, but... I'd written his words off as the ravings of a beast-mad fool. I shan't make that mistake in the future--every scrap of knowledge will help us." She replied to Gerlinde, taking a few seconds to ponder.

"When we head to Yahar'gul, should I use the Dream rune too? I figure that if we both have it the creatures of Nightmare won't, at least, be exclusively targeting you--but if you're the only one with it, we could use you to corral them where we want them and slaughter them. Otherwise... I feel strange without the Guidance rune, and would return to it. Wait... Gerlinde, look!" She added, before catching Farren's sudden ordeal in her periphery. She watched the strange undulations of his body, as though gripped from within by some unseen force, and rushed over to him--keeping her distance by a good two metres and urging Gerlinde to come over and observe too, still emblazoned with the Dream Rune as she was. Ophelia observed with keen interest, both out of sheer curiosity and out of concern for her friend and companion, though she kept perfectly calm even as Farren began to almost-seize, or what looked like it. She had no idea what was going on, but she wasn't worried for Farren's life, at least.

When the projection case glowed with a Rune entirely and utterly unfamiliar to Ophelia, even in terms of shape and size and other observable characteristics between the Caryll Runes she knew, her eyes widened and she turned to Gerlinde (assuming she'd followed) with a thoroughly bemused look. She pointed down at it incredulously, and got closer to try and observe Farren's face in more detail. When he called out to her she reached out her free hand and gripped his shoulder tightly.

"I'm here, love, what is it? What's happening? Are you okay?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Skinner wanted nothing more than to live, and we put him down because he became nothing more than a rabid dog. Irreverent Izzy no longer, just his flesh inhabited by one who gave into Beasthood rather than die. But Ludwig... Ludwig was generations ago; how long did Izzy survive down there, in the Old Labyrinth, only for us to end him as the Skinner? Ah, but you have met him, I think, Gerlinde. He mentioned an immortal Hunter he couldn't kill that he found terribly tedious--I'd imagine that was you? I suppose it doesn't really matter, now, does it? He is dead, and we are not. Many more will suffer that fate, immortal as we are. Many more at Yahar'gul." Ophelia commented, looking at Gerlinde with a thoughtful expression as she spoke.

"Though I'm loathe to even embrace such a rune, there's something I feel impelled to try..." Ophelia said, requesting the runebrand and branding upon herself the Hunger rune. The phantom pain, much like Gerlinde and Victor before, did not cause her to so much as flinch--each note of discordant sensation was divine, and in that divinity there was knowledge. She listened to the sweet notes of it ring inside her mind, felt the rune take hold, and imagined for a moment what Skinner must have felt. She stepped away from the birdbath, taking at least six or seven steps back before she decided it was enough, and beckoned the Messengers forth to retrieve the Kos Parasite. She reached her hand into the bowl and gently caressed the thing within, offering it her communion. This, she reckoned, was the last chance to feel anything at all of Mother Kos. Ophelia had been immured in death for as long as she could remember; she reckoned, with all of that experience, that we all died two deaths--the first in flesh, and the second when the last being who remembered us forgot. In this way, Mother Kos was still alive--for Ophelia would nestle her love close, and beckon it forth, and let it into the deepest corners of her heart.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia eagerly perused the descriptions of the items, and listened well to the soft whispers of the Holy Moonlight Sword. To have the last remnant of a Great One was no small thing--the very last vestige of a god, and the endless motherly love that it represented. Ophelia looked at the teeming and wriggling thing, and wondered if she could herself feel love for such a being--and she found in her heart a well of tenderness but not one of love. Not truly. In the moment she, too, sought solace from the recent memory of her experience--but before she could get too far in that line of inquiry they'd all gathered by the birdbath and absorbed the memory. Ophelia hadn't even considered that they could share it, and shot Gerlinde a wide smile as she suggested it, eagerly nodding along.

Once they'd finished experiencing it, Ophelia found herself blinking, and looking deep into the azure-teal glow of the Holy Moonlight Sword. So that's where you come from... Where he found you, and was raised to glory. What was it about him that made you reveal yourself to him? To me? she thought, half-asking and half-not, and stood incredulous for a moment as her senses returned to reality. Skinner... Izzy. Ophelia suddenly felt very lucky indeed that she'd stayed in that elevator, hadn't revealed the Holy Moonlight Sword to him... though a part of her wished that she'd strode up to him and showed him its true glory, of which he'd only gotten the barest taste the last time. Such a strong desire to live, and such loyalty to his friend. But... even a glimpse of glory had caused Ludwig to betray Izzy, so thoroughly that it scared her. She... as much as she wanted to profess her loyalty to her newfound companions, she knew that if any of them showed a sign of the Scourge she'd have cut them down too, impaled them upon the holy blade and brought the full weight of the cosmos down upon them. She found herself empathising with Ludwig much more than she'd expected--though she found his betrayal profoundly distasteful, she understood. Viscerally. She thought about his age of light, and wondered how different it was from the world beneath Mother Moon's gaze that she envisioned and longed for... But then she snapped herself from her reverie, trying to shake those troublesome thoughts from her mind, and turned to Farren.

"Farren, love, could you show me the Hunger rune that you got from Skinner? You must take the projection case and align it, like so," Ophelia began, miming what to do and nodding over to Gerlinde, "and bring its knowledge to the forefront of your mind's eye. Visualise every detail, every stroke, every mote of knowledge. Your mind will swell, and the rune will be made known. I could do the same for you, if you like--the whispers of the gods impart knowledge beyond mere words, and surely this will serve you well against the foes we face?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia nodded thoughtfully, trying to give each of the options that had been returned to her due consideration, but she found her focus too broken to meaningfully decide. She pressed her forehead once again to the Holy Moonlight Sword, feeling it resonate with her, and she begged it for its guidance in this moment. What should we do? Where is our light most needed?"

"Its light would be a blessing for all of the world. You are its wielder; once you become strong enough, Huntress, it may ask a favor. Until then, glory will be with you wherever you go and whatever you do."

"Yes... Yes, Farren, you're right. Byrgenwerth and the Forbidden Woods, they're enticing too, but... The Followers have been gathering scraps of the Arcane, anything that lingered from the times before the Blood Moon. They're groping blindly, but as Gerlinde mentioned, Naira has gotten her hands on some items of very real power. Liberating some of these, or getting a hint of where some items of power might be, would be a good idea before we head to Byrgenwerth and the Old Labyrinth... I wonder if we can find a bell, one that has the power that Pallid's did? Perhaps the resonance can be renewed, and moved... Like the Doll said, the Nightmare can infuse things. I still think I might be able to talk to Naira--together, Gerlinde, we represent a considerable Arcane potential. I don't know if she could ignore us, immortal now as we are, if we get a foot in the door. Ah, and let us get your runes switched out! I will keep the Guidance rune, for being able to see the motes of Nightmare in Yahar'gul will prove profoundly useful... but I think the three of you should switch to the Heir rune that Gerlinde taught me--it'll increase the echoes you get. Torquil especially needs to catch up!" Ophelia said, her voice slowing and becoming much calmer than it had been in the past few moments. With a new and more achievable goal in mind, she had a much easier time of evaluating all of the information they had--and she could see it plain on Farren's face that he needed to work his recent trauma out in the way only a Hunter could. She owed him whatever assistance he needed, and getting some experience of what they were all like in combat would be a good idea too.

Ophelia bent down to retrieve the runebrand from the Messengers, but quickly turned to hand it off to Gerlinde--she'd be able to apply the runes. Ophelia, meanwhile, pulled forth the strange parasite in a fishbowl that she'd picked up--and she both asked the Messengers for their information on it, and the Holy Moonlight Greatsword. She then retrieved the Rosmarinus and did the same, figuring she should work out the specifics of what her arsenal of weapons did before they travelled to Yahar'gul.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia nodded along gleefully with Gerlinde as she explained what she'd seen, her face brightening in realisation about what that sudden and intense feeling of being watched was, that she'd felt both with Dietrich and just moments ago. It didn't feel any less awful, but at least it had moved from the nebulous realm of ignorance to something she was aware of and could now do something about--and she tilted her head slightly and gave Gerlinde a small nodding gesture as she finished speaking.

"It is true that he is a weaver of lies and half-truths, but every lie is underpinned by a grain of truth. In knowing the shape of his lies, what he covers, what he reveals to us because he is careless and thinks we have not the wit to resist him... All of this is more information than we had. It comes at the cost of giving him information, so we definitely should not go back... but you are right that we have to be careful. Not rush into things foolishly, not... I'm sorry--I should have known better. I'm glad we have you, love, to help see what we can't. To help temper my hubris and curiosity. I'd thought that he hadn't realised that I had seen through his little ploy, and that we could leverage that... but we've just been exposed to him further. We can make the most of it, though, I suppose."

When Ophelia had finished speaking long enough to become aware of her surroundings again, she was glad to see Farren mostly back to form. She uncurled her long braid from the Holy Moonlight Sword, soaked through as it was, and let it fly behind her in the wind. She gave Farren a warm smile and listened to him before pondering a moment.

"Yes, this gold appears to be our enemy--Harold is merely a vector, an anchor point. I think, dears, we're going to have to obtain a lot more insight. Seek more reliable sources of knowledge. I... Hmm. Doll, dear, I've had a thought. I always knew something about my blood was special, so before I left Hemwick on my journeys the last time I concealed a vial in my old home and obscured it with a ritual. Would... a vial of untainted Paleblood, before becoming made a Hunter, be useful to you in any way? I fear I should collect it regardless, if it's still there, if only to keep it out of the Vicar's hands. This... this can wait, though, I think. What do we want to do now? We could still go back to the Forbidden Woods... Maybe the Wise Master has some information we don't? Are there realms of Nightmare yet unexplored we might venture to, or... we could go to Yahar'gul. Try and speak with Naira. I... my mind is abuzz, I'm struggling to pick something to focus on."

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia took a moment to steady herself, breathing in calmly through her nose and exhaling a few seconds later in a rhythmic loop. She let the horror and disgust wash over her, pass through her, and finally take their leave of her--she then turned to give Gerlinde a gentle smile, but was immediately taken off guard by the wetness permeating her hair and clothing and how suddenly... transparent certain garments were. She immediately looked away bashfully, though returned her gaze only a few seconds later absent her wandering eyes.

"... Was there a part of 'wants to raise an immortal army enthralled by his power' that seemed... less than disastrous to you? We know it can affect his false Paleblood Hunters--imagine what even a handful of people dedicated to him could do. Whatever his means of creating false Paleblood, whatever part of this sacred space he's bastardised and taken advantage of, we simply must agree that he both cannot be allowed to do this and will stop at nothing to see it done. If we're agreed on that, then his death warrant is already signed. Some part of the influence must linger, embedded like a shard of glass in your mind's eye... There must be a rune that can deter this influence, or... well, I suppose the two of you could increase your affinity for the Arcane with blood echoes, and we could... I don't know; it's difficult to think of a solution for a problem like this." She began, not getting heated or even angry in the slightest--just... confused, and wanting to explain what was very obvious logic to her to her companions.

"Getting ahead of ourselves won't benefit us, though, that much is absolutely certain... Thank you, Gerlinde, for your uncharacteristically stabilising influence! Okay... Well. Knowing what secrets lurk in the Grand Cathedral is absolutely paramount; all information about this false Paleblood is my highest priority. I also need Harold's insights on the nature of thought, of how memories can live within skulls and their experience be passed on... And neither Farren or Torquil can return. This, then, necessitates a brief splitting up--I am happy to go alone, and I can pick up more blood vials and other tidbits from Dietrich for us. Unless any of you have something more pressing that we need to do? If you two need me in any capacity, I'll do whatever I can for you--I suppose making sure you're alright should be my first concern, shouldn't it?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Glimpses of a larger picture, yes, but incomplete... The revelations have only begun, and I fear the worst is yet to come. I don't know the truth of it yet--I merely report what I have been told. Mother Moon above... I am able, unlike many, to see through the veneer of Harold's illusion and read his real facial expressions. I don't know if I'm the best judge of character, or if he's typical enough to be judged by normal standards, but I didn't detect any hint of falsehood from what he said. He gave me the impression he believes it, if nothing else. Let your mind spin and piece together what you can from the pieces of the puzzle that I've brought to you, love. I'll come back with more, and we can put it together. I... I know that none of this makes sense, yet, and I know even less than you do... but we must muddle our way through the dark for now. I will be okay; my guiding moonlight will show me the path." Ophelia replied, voice still as hurried and feverish as it was before--though the look on her face was entirely placid and collected. She seemed... almost like one touched by madness having a rare moment of lucidity, though it was no madness but simply an expanding awareness and the collapsing of her prior ignorance.

She turned, then, to find Gerlinde--who either came with her or didn't. She hadn't had the wherewithal to check previously, and returned to her new friend and companion's side one way or the other.

"Do you want to come along, Gerlinde? I don't want to impose, of course, but... I would feel better for having you there, and I know you thirst for secrets just as much as I do. I... I feel as though time is of the essence, though I can't explain why. He's more insane than we are, though! He wants to raise an army of false Palebloods, subject them to that sickening influence, and run roughshod over everything that would resist him. Heedless of the damage it might do to this Dream, to our birthright, to the grander purpose we have been chosen to bring into being. We must stop him from realising his goals, at any cost... and Mother Moon above it'll be satisfying to watch the life leave his eyes."