Fandom Bloodborne: Sunbathed Hunters [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

There was nothing left for Alexandria Lior in Yharnam. She had never been from Yharnam in the first place, but the thought of returning to Mirra without her twin never crossed her mind. Yet, the red-haired prospector still had to return to Yharnam on occasion, usually for a check-up at the clinic, although with word of Iosefka being dead, Alexandria wasn’t sure who she was to see – nor had she decided how cooperative she planned to be, as the scent of blood mingled with the lavender in her mask. It punctuated it too clearly, that she drew her arm up to press against her nose, in spite of how unlikely that was to help.

She had come into Yharnam in armor. The scent never left it, no matter what she tried, though by now that might have just been her delusions. Still, she knew better than to travel into Yharnam without armor, without weapons, at night. Especially when the moon hung so low in the sky. ‘If they called me back on purpose….’ Well, she already had a lot of strong words for the Vicar.

A few more wouldn’t hurt, as she made her way towards what passed for her residence, near the looming chapel. She had rank enough to live in luxury, but that wasn’t the real reason. The Church just wanted to keep her close.

She knew too much.

The clatter of horse’s hooves on the cobblestone still made her flinch, and she turned to give that irritating creature a glare, only to realize a moment later that there were two, and they were galloping with a carriage attached to them, as wild-eyed as any hunter. The reason became fairly obvious in the form of a beast rounding a corner in pursuit.

It was not a standard, wolfish creature, although wolfish it was – covered in a silver fur, but tufts of it, not fully. The face was more human than wolf, neck crooked, and ribs fully revealed. The huntress had seen enough of these in the labyrinths, but never in Yharnam. ‘Did I leave the labyrinths? Am I dreaming?’ How difficult it was to tell, sometimes. Her actions were still as fluid as if her life depended on it, drawing what at first seemed to be a slender blade – though as it caught the light of the moon above it began to reform itself, drawing that light into itself and growing in size, but never in weight.

A single slash sent a wave of blue energy from the tip of the blade and cut the galloping horse free of its carriage. It evaded her as its carriage crashed into the ground, and served as a stumbling block for the beast ahead. The beast didn’t continue to come at her, but dug its claws into the door of the carriage instead, ripping at the door and pulling it off its hinges.

The huntress moved swiftly forward and plunged the blade into the open chest cavity of the fiend, another radiant blast of light shooting through the beast and knocking it backwards. She spared a glance into the carriage, noting two passengers, a woman and child. The woman’s head was now bleeding, though the child seemed relatively unharmed, just shaken.

No time to talk.

The huntress moved after the beast, but it was quicker this time around, and in way she did not anticipate. She watched its hair stand on end, she felt the change in the atmosphere – and then felt the collision as a bolt of electricity hit her square in the chest and sent her back against the carriage. She wasn’t sure if her spine hitting the carriage hurt worse than the lightning, but she knew the currents in the electricity were going to have a lasting impact, even as she leaned forward and tried to get her bearings before the beast.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-​

It was a bad night to do any exploration, and yet that also meant it was the perfect night. Hai Ts’ao knew he would not be pursued by hunters or others of the church on this night, and so it was the only one he’d have to check out the clinic where Iosefka had once worked. He knew it had remained abandoned, rather than restored, or given over to someone else. At least, that was the story that went around Yharnam. Hai did not believe it; he was certain something was going on there, with the way Iosefka’s death was covered-up.

The young man from the East traversed the streets of Yharnam with his hood up, walking in the alleys and otherwise dodging sight of anyone – human, beast, hunter – as best he could, moving as silently as he could, on his way towards the clinic. He was lucky in that regards, no one came upon him as the moon sat heavy in the sky.

Hai had started to learn what nights were mostly like to cause some issue.

It never happened in the morning. ‘Maybe we just need to kill the Moon.’ A ridiculous thought, for he knew they wouldn’t have problems, moon or not, if they stopped taking in that old blood. Yet, it was still Yharnam’s most popular solution to everything, and he had yet to figure out a way around it.

Or a way to remove it.

It still sung within him, and he wrapped his scarf tighter around his face as he drew closer to the clinic. The black iron gate leading into it was locked, but that was no issue for him. He drew his blade, the chill coming from it causing the air to start to steam around it. He slashed at the lock, and watched it take that cold. A few more strikes, and it was brittle enough to crumble and fall away, giving Hai passage into the yard.

‘Singing?’

There was a humming in the air that was strange, and sent a tingle of energy through his veins. It was familiar, drawing up images in his head that he couldn’t quite recall in full. The sound was like a bell – if a bell could actually sing, or hold and change notes on a whim. No words, or at least, none he could make out, as he crept closer towards the clinic doors.

Locked.

More than that, barred.

He looked to the windows and found all of them barred, as well.

Hai let out an irritated huff, and began to walk around the clinic, looking for an entrance that was still accessible. The other gates were at least open, so he was able to walk around the back of the clinic, sparing a glance for the tombstones. ‘At least you are at peace now.’ Unlike the rest of Yharnam’s citizens.

A flickering bit of light drew his attention up – and just in time to realize there was something falling from the roof. He rolled forward, and a fiend with fly wings and many eyes upon an enlarged head landed roughly on the ground where he’d been standing. He was quick to pull his gun and fire at the kin, causing it to let out a piercing scream as it withdrew from the onslaught of bullets.

Hai was going to rush it, when he realized the singing had gotten louder. He turned in time to see what looked to be a brain atop a manikin, ‘A doll!’ and many odd creatures woven into the creases of the brain, ‘Messengers!’ the recollection, the bell-like song, something in it all snapped in Hai, and quite literally, too. That old blood within him seemed to react, as if near an epiphany, near something, but unable to reach it.

All it could do was cause Hai harm, doubling him over as it spurted out from wounds inflicted by that treacherous blood, staining his blue attire, before the kin with the large head grasped him in its hands, pulling him off of his feet as he tried to regain his senses. The pain at least helped with that, but now he felt significantly weaker. ‘What was going on here? Iosefka?!’ He wasn’t going to get answers…was he?

Death was in front of him, in the form of this twisted and grotesque monster he found outside of the clinic, providing him with far more questions than answers.

 

[Foster]

The silence of Cainhurst suited Allister. Within the castles foreboding walls the grounds were almost serene, the only movement coming from snowflakes fluttering to the ground. Winter was a permanent resident here and a light dusting of snow now powdered Allister’s cloak, the cold seeping through the fabric and into his skin. He was knelt beside the grave he’d dedicated to his mother, a jagged rock he’d embedded in the ground as part of the makeshift graveyard he’d been cobbling together in his spare time. It was no masterpiece, but he felt better knowing that those who been slain here might find some solace in his work.

A single withered flower rested atop his mother’s headstone, something he’d picked as he returned from his last foray into Yharnam. It had been over a week since he’d last left the castle and he decided then and there that it was about time he took a break from the home of the Vilebloods.

He rose to his feet and made for the gate, feet kicking up small amounts of snow as he moved. Honestly, he’d be glad to take a rest from Cainhurst, the Queen was never easy to deal with but as of late she’d only gotten worse. Erratic almost. Until he was kneeling before her it was becoming increasingly difficult to predict what kind of mood she was in. As far as she was concerned he’d be leaving the castle grounds to hunt down her precious ‘blood dregs’ but the truth was far less sinister. Simply put he, as well as the remaining servants, weren’t immortal like their Queen and would benefit from a well-stocked larder. Despite his heritage there were those in Yharnam who were willing to trade with him these days, such was their desperation. And it wasn’t as if he was short of valuables to bargain with.

Just before the gate stood a grotesque and twisted pile of limbs, bodies too far gone to be recognized as those of a human. Blood lickers. Attracted to this place by the great tragedy that had befallen it, they faced a slaughter of their own when Allister had first arrived at the castle gate. Thankfully, exposure to the elements had prevented the bodies from rotting and with any luck the snow would cover up this blight given enough time.

The lever for the great gate was caked in ice and the hunter had to put considerable effort into wrenching it open, breaking the icy grip that held the entrance closed as the chains that moved the door began to shift. The door exposed the night sky beyond Cainhurst, a full moon hanging heavily above Yharnam in the distance. Good. The church would be too busy carrying the burden of their mistakes to worry about the recluse who had taken up residence in an abandoned castle. The bridge to the mainland was broken but just before the drop off stood a carriage with two horses connected to it, the only way to leave or enter this place. Upon closer inspection one would notice the horses seemed to be undead, with skeletal features and empty eyes. That didn’t stop the loyal beasts from doing their jobs however. Even the carriage was a ghost of its former self, with splintering wood and paint that had long since begun peeling away.

Allister pulled open the door of the carriage and hoisted himself inside, settling into the seat within. The door swung close of its own accord and the horses set off on their impossible journey.



The carriage came to an abrupt halt, the horses stopping far sooner than Allister had expected. He was nearly thrown from his seat, forced to grip tightly to the door handle in an effort to steady himself. Strange. But on the night of the hunt strange was to be expected. He stepped outside, but not before he’d drawn Chimera from its sheath on his hip.

“Not another step you Vermin.”

The hoarse voice belonged to a holy man, made easily identifiable by his church robes. His words were full of venom and backed up by the threat standing either side of him. A dozen Yharnamites, each one wielding a rifle with its barrel pointed squarely at Allister. Apparently his trips into the city hadn’t gone unnoticed and the church had taken the time to set this trap, one he’d so willingly wandered straight into.

“I’m surprised you can afford to waste these resources on a full moon. Consider me flattered that the Church deems me fit to warrant all this.” Allister responded, speaking loudly to make sure he could be heard over the waves crashing at the base of the broken bridge below.

Choosing to ignore the hunter’s words the ringleader of the group simply continued with his prepared spiel, glaring at Allister with real hatred in his eyes.

“You and your putrid bloodline stand accused of crimes against the Church. The price of this heresy is death, and the sentence will be carried out at once.”

There were no words that would change the mind of fanatics like this, Allister knew that. He could only take comfort in knowing that they were none the wiser of his Queen’s survival. They may think that killing him would put an end to his family but as long as the church considered her dead the Vilebloods would live on. Reaching out towards the closest horse Allister slapped its flank, the action causing several of the gunmen to flinch. He was thankful that they all held their nerve and didn’t fire though as it allowed the horses to turn and flee back into the ghostly mist from which they had emerged.

From behind the engraved silver of his helmet Allister studied the group before him, weighing up his options. Escape seemed unlikely, even if he could reach the closest of the men he’d be set upon the by the rest before he could cut them down. But a hunter never went down without a fight.

He took a single step towards the church representative before the night sky was torn apart by the sound of twelve rifles firing in unison. Allister was blinded by muzzle flash as the bullets found their mark in his body, the force enough to make him stumble back and almost lose his footing over the crumbling precipice of the bridge. The damage was too great. His body was already dead, it was just that his mind hadn’t accepted it yet. Blood flowed from his wounds and seeped into the engravings that adorned Chimera but he could barely lift the blade, let alone fight.

Toppling backwards the last knight of Cainhurst fell towards the waters below, his eyes transfixed on the moon above as he took his last breaths. Then the sea claimed him and the world went dark.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-​

The night of the hunt brought work for all, and Grace was no exception. The denizens of Yharnam boarded their doors and windows, the hunters rallied for their bloody battle. It was all too easy to get lost in the violence of it all, to partake not out of necessity, but pleasure. Grace had no such temptation. Her work was despicable, but it needed to be done and on a night like this she’d almost certainly find a blood-drunk compatriot in need of her services.

She was crouched upon a rooftop overlooking one of Yharnam’s residential areas, blending into the dark of the night. Up here she was out of the reach of most beasts the hunt had to offer, and in relative safety. That was more than could be said of tonight’s mark. The red-haired woman was fighting for her life in the street below, uncanny beasts imbued with lightning prowling about her.

Grace had first sighted this particular hunter trapped within the dream, forced to bring about the end of a brother-in-arms. The man was too far gone, and she’d been right to do so but Grace had found out the hard way that the thrill of the hunt could extended to a clash between men. Many had already lost themselves too less.

It seemed she may have misjudged this woman however. She’d taken a moment to assure the safety of those in the carriage she fought beside and in doing so had proven that her humanity was intact. Grace found herself grinning behind her crow mask, happy to know she would be turning her blades on nothing other than beasts tonight.

With practiced grace she slid down the roof and down to the cobbles below, fluidly transitioning into a roll from which she came out guns blazing. Her derringers let loose two shots each at the beast looming over the huntress, the quicksilver rounds ripping through matted fur and burrowing into the creature’s flesh. Even infused with Grace’s blood the bullets did little damage but did serve their purpose, turning the monster’s attention away from the injured hunter.

The hunter of hunters drew her blades of mercy as the beast rounded on her, darting forward and under its frenzied claw swipes. She had no intention of letting it gain the strength to release another one of those electric attacks that had downed the other hunter so aggression was in order. The siderite weapons flashed in ribbons of silvery light as Grace tactfully cut away at her foe’s limbs, forcing it to fall to its knees. Looking it straight in the eyes she crossed her blades either side of it’s neck and pulled, its head falling to the ground below with a wet thud.

Grace was about to turn away from the decapitated body when a sudden movement caught her eye, something writhing within the neck of the beast. Her hand shot out and grabbed the worm just as it lunged at her, stopping it’s snapping mandibles inches from her neck. Hurling it to the ground she planted a boot on it and knelt down to sink her blades into it. The parasite squirmed in pain for a moment, then fell still.

“Still have your wits about you Red?” She asked, offering a gloved hand to the fallen huntress. “On your feet, this is no place to rest.”

As if to prove her point a symphony of howls sounded off in the distance, their melancholy cries echoing through Yharnam’s twisted alleys.

 

[Lucyfer]

Death came in the form of a brain tendril’s penetration through his chest, and then more, though that first one had been sufficient. Hai went limp in the kin’s hold, until it inevitably discarded him against the ground and carried on about its business. It did not notice how the blood remained, and the body faded from where it had been tossed.

Nor did Hai realize any change from death to life. The familiar scent of asphodel and lilies carried on the wind, but not even the realization he could breathe – was breathing – quite convinced Hai that things had changed significantly for him. It wasn’t until he realized he still felt physical sensations, and none of them were pain, that he considered he could open his eyes. ‘Just a bad dream.’ Though he had not woken with a jolt as though from a nightmare.

And when his eyes did open, it was to a large moon hanging much lower in the sky. He sat up, realizing he was on the ground, though not before Iosefka’s clinic. He was surrounded by headstones and flowers, greenery, and a single, looming building in the backdrop of it all. He felt a chill go through him at the familiarity of it, and he looked back to the headstone he’d woken in the shadow of.

There was his own name, clear as day, like the numerous hunters who had come before, and after, him.

Only the time of his departure from the dream was broken off, a chip in the stone to suggest he’d never been here before. Never participated in the particular hunt that the Hunter’s Dream catered to, and he let out a low moan. He’d been lied to! Gehrman lied to him! He’d said this was it, it was over, it would all go back to normal!

‘Did it, really?’

He scrambled to his feet, unsteady, and touched the fabric of his clothing, finding no damage to it. He looked around widely, and stumbled onto the rocky, uneven path. Flowers were starting to grow through that, though not in great numbers. ‘Doll, there’s a Doll, and Gehrman – someone will explain this, someone will release me!’

And as he thought that, coming to the end of an open gate, he realized one thing – he’d died.

He clutched at the wrought-iron fence.

If he went back, would he return to his own death?

And then, he noticed another appearing under a headstone, not Gehrman, nor the Doll, and from the looks not a hunter, although Hai supposed he didn’t look like much of a hunter, either. Still, it gave him pause. He’d never seen anyone else in the Hunter’s Dream, despite implications that several had come here before, and likely, afterwards.

The nightmare never really ended.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-​

Too many times for Alexandria’s liking, she’d found herself saved by another hunter. It had started her career, and it seemed to extend even to the current moment, though she did not consider herself a slouch. Nonetheless, there was more relief, and gratitude. She’d also been on the receiving end of one too many attacks by other hunters, just as well, and suspected her fate would one day follow that of her brother, and all the greats that the church lauded honors upon.

If only they knew….

She got to her knees before the hand was offered, along with that sardonic comment. She smirked beneath her own mask, and wrapped her hand around the wrist of the other hunter to help herself up, “Thanks, Crow.” The garb was an odd one, not one that Alexandria had been introduced to among the many hunters in the Church.

She didn’t think things had changed that much.

Though, the feathers were far more fashionable than their dusters and trench coats.

The scent of blood from the beast wasn’t helping her any, though. She swallowed, shook her head, and let go once she was on her feet, only to take a vial from the belt along her hip to down some of the blood after that shock. It helped with the pain, if nothing else, and she slipped the vial back into its place to refill later.

She turned back towards the carriage as the howling resumed. Probably wasn’t the kindest idea to wreck the carriage, but they weren’t going to escape that beast, and without a driver, they were doomed anyways. She hopped back atop it, and saw that the woman was coming around, though she looked terribly startled to see the hunter atop her carriage with a glowing sword. It was a sobering effect, really. “Hello, you’re out a bit too late. Let’s get you out of here,” Ria offered her hand down to them, taking the woman’s shaking hand in her own, before she looked back to the Crow.

“Willing to help me get them somewhere safe?”

She didn’t know if it would be their homes, or somewhere closer. The Church should have plenty of incense burning now to repel the beasts, but that wasn’t always a guarantee. Their homes might be too far to try and get to, and no one in their right mind was going to let in strangers. No one ever knew which strangers might turn out to be beasts.

Yharnam was ever problematic.

The woman at least got atop the carriage, and then reached in for her own child. At least she hadn’t forgotten them in the midst of all this.

 

[Foster]

Allister’s eyes fluttered open as an oddly familiar scent reached him, one that he’d hoped never to experience again. Floral, yet not of this earth.

No, it can’t be.

He was on his back, looking up at sky filled with furious grey thunderclouds and streaks of bright unnatural colors. If he tilted his head he could see pillars of stone rising up to touch the sky and a moon that seemed far too close to be real. The hunter’s dream. Allister’s heart sank, this was a place he’d done everything within his power to leave behind forever. Was this his curse? Never to die, but just get dragged back here to claw his way to life once more?

A headstone loomed over him and it was with a shock that Allister realized it had his own name engraved in its aging stone. It was as if the dream itself was mocking him. With anger building in his veins he got to his feet and brushed himself off, surveying the familiar scenery of the dream with dismay. Flowers and graves, with the Hunter’s workshop above it all. Nothing had changed.

It was at that moment that a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye snapped Allister from the grasp of despair. He expected to see the doll, the only comfort in this place. Instead, he found himself looking at a man dressed in a blue robe, his hair held in a ponytail. The attire clearly wasn’t from around Yharnam, but Allister could have sworn he’d seen it somewhere before. Traders from a distant land in Thawnholme perhaps. It wasn’t completely detached from what a hunter might wear and the sword on his hip revealed that this man was not to be taken lightly.

Despite the unfamiliar figure Allister made no move for his weapon. The dream, despite being a cursed place, had never presented him with a foe before. He reasoned that the man was likely in a similar position to himself, trapped here against his will.

“I mean you no harm.” Allister assured the man, moving toward him with his empty palms raised in a show of good faith. “My name is Allister; this dream has been my prison once before. May I ask your name?”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-​

Grace dug her heels into the ground and planted herself firmly as the larger woman was pulled to her feet. From behind the safety of her mask she took the chance to examine her fellow hunter more closely, her eyes immediately being drawn to that peculiar sword. It shone an odd green, bathing the area around it in what almost looked to be moonlight. In her line of work Grace had come across some interesting weaponry, but this was certainly one of the strangest.

The crow stood back as the huntress tended to the mother and child who’d been inside the carriage when it was attacked, keeping one eye out for anything that may be lurking in the shadows. She’d learnt from her days upholding the law that it was best not to crowd people at a time like this. Besides, Yharnam’s architecture left plenty of places for the beasts to stalk their prey, from dark alleys to slated rooftops. The sooner they could get these two off the streets and into someplace of relative safety the better.

“Sure. On a night like this one hunter might not be enough.”

With a metallic click the twin swords that made up the blades of mercy snapped together, forming a single weapon which Grace stowed on her belt before approaching the group. The mother was clearly shaken but Grace pressed her for answers anyway.

“Do you live close by? We need to get you somewhere to hole up till morning.”

The woman shook her head, lip trembling for a moment before she answered.

“We live on Porter street, but its not safe anymore. Its why we’re out so late in the first place, god knows we wouldn’t risk it if we had any other choice…”

Grace gave a sympathetic nod. Only a madman would walk these streets unarmed right now, let alone with a child.

“I came through there not too long ago. You were right to get out when you did, the beasts own that place now.”

She turned away from the mother and child, beckoning the red-haired huntress in closer so she could talk to her privately. There was no point in letting them know that she had no idea where to keep them safe, especially when they were already both badly shaken.

“Know of any church strongholds nearby? I’m a tad out of the healing church loop I’m afraid.”

 

[Lucyfer]

The stranger rose, and though Hai tensed as they locked eyes, he also kept his hand from his weapon. He was familiar with this place being a calm one, the only hostility he’d faced had been of his own choosing, so he doubted that counted. Although, he now had several choice words for Gehrman. If not actual action, although he supposed he probably didn’t have it in him to hurt Gehrman. Not after all he’d overheard, not after all he suspected.

Hai swallowed at the introduction, and nodded, “Hai,” he gave his own name, “I’ve been here before, as well. Never wanted to come back, honestly,” which, it seemed, neither did Allister if he called it a prison. Hai couldn’t quite call it that, even if it was true.

He’d at least been free from it.

“Nor did I ever see anyone else here before. I…was under the impression that didn’t happen, though I never thought to ask, either,” he said, taking an uneasy look at the Hunter’s Workshop, and wondering what it could mean if there was more than one Hunter. Had something worse gone wrong in the world?

He looked back to Allister, “I think we ought to find Gehrman and get some answers,” the doll, sweet as she was, remained unlikely to have any answers for either of them. She worked in the dream, but Hai did not think she knew so much about why hunters were called into it. She just tended to their needs, and used the blood to make them stronger.

That accursed blood….

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-​

The streets of Yharnam were still imbedded in Ria’s mind, despite how she preferred to memorize labyrinth corridors. There was no shaking Yharnam; once it was a part of you, it stayed, forever. Porter street was a good deal away from here, at least, but that didn’t mean too much. Beasts could be anywhere.

‘Anyone.’

Alexandria moved from the family to the Crow, considering her words. She arched a brow as the Crow seemed uncertain of where to go. ‘Are you not with the Church?’ Questions for when they didn’t have a family to save, she supposed. Right now, any extra hand, heretic or not, was fine by her. Perhaps even preferable. “I know of a few.”

She considered taking them right to the Cathedral itself, where she could pull what rank she had to get Vicar Antonius to keep them in the Cathedral, but she still wondered how truly safe that place was, even with its incense. It was all but soaked in blood, and she knew why some beasts grew so much larger than others…she knew what clerics became, what the Vicar would no doubt become.

Perhaps, not that night, though. “I was heading towards the Cathedral myself. It should be safe enough inside there.” And not too far. The only other place she might have considered was Oeden’s Chapel, which always seemed to have the incense burning. It was so thick she could hardly stand going in herself. She didn’t like to think of what that meant, but the memory of it was certainly repulsive.

“Is that agreeable?” Perhaps it wouldn’t be; if she was a heretic, that might be too dangerous for the Crow.

 

[Foster]

Allister wasn’t surprised when Hai admitted to visiting the dream in the past. The graves around them bore the names of countless hunters that had passed through here on different nights, serving their purpose before being disposed of. If he’d been dragged back here it stood to reason that Hai was no different. Seeing as slaying a great one had been left to a single blade, what interested him was why the dream had demanded two hunters this time. Nothing good, that was for sure.

“In my experience asking questions around here is no guarantee of answers.” Rumbled Allister, his mood sour. Admittedly Hai appearing perfectly civil was a pleasant surprise but there was little that could improve his mood right now. Being murdered did that to a man. “Still, it’s somewhere to start. I’ll check the workshop.”

Climbing the familiar steps leading up to the hunter’s workshop brought back memories Allister had been doing his best to suppress. But here it was, as if he’d never left. The workshop was a small room but every inch of space was utilized, filled with workbenches, bookcases or cabinets. Stacks of tattered tomes were piled in one of the corners, the thin layer of dust sitting atop them indicating nobody had tried to read them for some time now. At the rear of the workshop a candle was burning atop a table covered by cloth, its flame flickering slightly despite the lack of any wind. Well at least somebody was here, although it was possible the Doll was responsible. An open book on the table depicted a multitude of Caryll runes, a method of the old hunters that allowed select phrases from great ones to be translated into something a mortal could understand.

Allister studied the runes for a moment, fingers running over the ink etched upon the pages. The longer he looked the more vivid the depictions became, until it seemed some were almost dancing on the parchment. A dull throbbing began in his head and he turned away, snapping the book shut with one hand. He’d never been good with these things and his break in the waking world had apparently done nothing for his aptitude.

Moving away he turned his attention to the weapons bench, a simple wooden surface upon which all manner of hunter’s tools had been honed and repaired. A selection of blades hung directly overhead and Alister recognized a few that belonged to weapons he’d seen in action. Everything from the vicious teeth of the saw cleaver to the more elegant holy blades of the church. Unlike the rune table there was no signs of recent activity here, dust on all the surfaces. Unless Gehrman was hiding in a cabinet draw he wasn’t in here.

Stepping back outside, Allister was about to call out to Hai when a subtle movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Down a path to his left knelt a familiar figure, her body obscuring much of the grave she was tending to.

“Doll?”

At the sound of her name the Doll cocked her head, rising from where she’d been kneeling so that she could face the approaching hunter. She towered over Allister, her height just one of the things that marked her out as otherworldly. But he knew all too well that she was being without malevolence, her existence dedicated to aiding and caring for those that the dream harbored.

“Allister. It has been some time; how may I be of service?

Her pale features gave away no indication of surprise to see him here, nor did her delicate tone of voice. Large pale eyes studied him with something approximating fondness and for a moment his situation didn’t seem quite so bad. At least his friend hadn’t changed either.

“I just have a few questions for Gehrman, do you know where he’s hiding around here?” Allister asked, gesturing around at the dreamscape behind him.

The doll said nothing, her eyes glassing over instead. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again, as if she were going to say something then thought better of it. Instead, she gracefully stepped aside and revealed the headstone she’d been tending to.

‘Gehrman, the first hunter.’

Allister’s hopes sank as he read the words etched into the rock. He’d never been as a fond of the old man as he had been the Doll but it was hard to believe that he was simply gone. He’d been as integral a part of this dream as the bricks of the workshop itself. But it was more than just that, a decidedly sinister element had shown itself. Gehrman didn’t age in the dream, he’d told Allister that himself, so that ruled out natural causes. Someone, or something, had murdered him. But who?

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-​

A wry smile formed on Grace’s lips; her face concealed behind that avian masquerade. Her question had been innocent enough, the church had access to the most resources and consequently the best strongholds, but the red-haired huntress’s response was laced with information.

Hunters and their traditions could all be traced back to a single man. Gehrman, the infamous first hunter. He’d led the first Yharnamites into battle armed with little more than modified farming tools and yet his skills were so great that they became exemplars in the fight against the scourge. There came a time where these hunters of old were replaced by those sanctioned directly by the church, and since then further off shoots had revealed themselves. Powder kegs, Executioners, Vileblood knights. These days it was difficult to tell where a hunter stood from a glance, and for a hunter of hunters that was something Grace needed to be quick to make an assessment on. She opposed no faction, but at the same time she didn’t align herself with any either. She couldn’t. Such things would interfere with her work.

Red here seemed to be a member of the church, or at least she worked closely enough with them that she knew their coming and goings. That wasn’t a problem for Grace, and tonight it may even be an advantage. The healing church weren’t the saviors they proclaimed themselves to be but they weren’t useless either.

“Yes, the Cathedral it is then. It’s been some time since I’ve paid it a visit.”

Grace’s words seemed self-assured, but she couldn’t escape the feeling she might not be welcomed with open arms at the Cathedral. Pitchforks and torches maybe. She’d put down more than a few rabid zealots and although she took painstaking effort into making clean kills you never know who was watching from Yharnam’s shadows. It was a risk she was willing to take, if the church turned their weapons on her when she arrived she’d be able to run away knowing the family had been delivered into safety.

She began making her way through the familiar streets, gesturing over her shoulder for the others to follow. With the two civilians in the middle they could minimize the chances of losing them to a surprise attack, a common tactic amongst the smaller beasts that would struggle in an outright brawl.

“Keep up the best you can, the sooner we can get you two inside the better.” Grace spoke over her shoulder, keeping a steady pace as they climbed one of Yharnam’s many staircases. “You’ll be safer with the others in the Cathedral.”

It was an uphill climb to the Cathedral; the crowning jewel of the city being situated right at the peak of its infrastructure. They passed countless closed doors and barred windows as they moved and as they made their way past Oeden chapel Grace had to wonder why the huntress hadn’t suggested it. The chapel was far smaller than the Cathedral but it was still plenty secure, with enough incense burning that it could be smelt long before the building even came into view. Within its walls the stuff formed a haze that clung to the ground, akin to a light fog. It had been integral to Grace’s time in the dream, and it was with a pang of guilt that she realized that she had neglected to visit the sweet chapel dweller that had been helpful to her. Perhaps she’d return here once they dropped off the mother and her child.

“Perhaps you should lead the way from here on out Red, there are those in the Church who may not take so kindly to me waltzing into the Cathedral.”

 

[Lucyfer]

‘No, no it isn’t.’ Hai allowed a rueful smile to touch his lips at the truth of Allister’s words of the dream. He’d had more questions from his first time here, than he did answers. He had even more now that he was called back. He shouldn’t have been called back. He was certain that Gehrman had made him that promise, although perhaps he’d misunderstood? It mattered little now.

He nodded as Allister indicated he’d check the workshop. The gardens were more familiar to Hai as it was, or perhaps, graveyard was a better word. He knew the Messenger pools, and all their places. He knew the graves of civilizations past, too many dead to even put up a name for them. He also knew where he’d found Gehrman sleeping, more than once, and it was in that direction that Hai began his trek.

His eyes would still stray towards other headstones, seeing end dates on all of them. ‘Perhaps you should go look to Allisters, see if it is much like yours.’ He didn’t backtrack, though, just continued to walk around the workshop to get towards the back of it, moon-white flowers running alongside the barely-there path.

He was certain it wasn’t made into a real path for reasons of privacy.

Gehrman hadn’t wanted people to overhear him, or find him, in these moments. It was still a wonder to Hai that Gehrman slept at all, peacefully or otherwise.

At the back of the workshop, Hai did see the familiar sight of Gehrman’s wheelchair, but before the name could slip his lips, he noticed a difference in the figure sitting in the chair. Their attire was the first sign, but even considering Gehrman might change clothes, their skin color was next, drastically darker. Their hair was shorter, and they didn’t bear the build of someone who needed a wheelchair – though Hai knew looks were often deceptive when it came to disabilities.

He paused.

“Gehrman?” It was worth a try.

The figure in the chair tensed, fingers curling over the arm of the chair, before they looked over their shoulder and let their silvery eyes come to rest on Hai. “Ah,” there was the flicker of a smile, bright, before it softened, saddened, “No, Gehrman is no longer,” his hands moved to the wheels, and he rolled it back to turn properly towards Hai. “I’m Amon, the…new host of the Hunter’s Dream.”

Hai felt sick.

He wasn’t sure why.

He also felt rage. He felt cheated, somehow, that this man wasn’t even surprised that he knew Gehrman. Did he knew what Gehrman promised? “Where is Gehrman? What happened to him?” The words came out in a rush, the anger making itself obvious.

Amon only shook his head, “I don’t know, child. Only that he is dead, and I was picked to take over.” A bitter laugh, “Not sure what I did to deserve that.”

Hai’s rage only mounted with that laugh, and that lack of information, even if it wasn’t this Amon’s fault, necessarily. Calling him child rubbed him wrong, even if he supposed Amon might be double his age; it was hard to tell, “And what did I do to deserve coming back?”

Another shake of his head, “I didn’t pick ya. I’ve got no say in all that.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-​

Alexandria had intended to lead, given she was going that way, but when the Crow began her march, she instinctively shifted to take the rear position. It would be much better to keep the family between them. They were relatively defenseless. Even if something tried to come at them from one of the sides, the odds were in favor of the Crow seeing it first, or Alexandria noticing it second.

Shadows were important to watch, and her sword at least provided a constant light that helped create them.

Nothing so far came their way, just locked doors, and murmurs from within. The taint of blood was not so thick in the air here, which was to be expected. Beasts might show up anywhere, but the Cathedral Ward was usually better protected. The Church tended to get to those who would be beasts, sooner than later. ‘Unless it’s among their own ranks.’ A terrible thought to pair with the scent of incense that reached out from Oeden’s Chapel as they came into that cleared square.

She nearly buckled, but just pressed her empty hand against her mask.

‘Ignore the spider, ignore the spider.’ It was there. Oh, Alexandria knew that spider clinging to the chapel was there, even if others couldn’t see it. She’d been thrown by it before; it had sent her into a nightmare she didn’t want to return to, and that, perhaps, was the real reason she avoided it, and pretended it wasn’t there. She’d considered killing it, many times, but that fear of being sent back into the nightmare always won out.

The fact it didn’t seem bothered by the incense told her it might not be something worth messing with, either.

She had regrouped by the time the Crow looked back. She still felt a bit unwell, but doubted any paleness would be that notable. Particularly at night in dark attire. She managed a nod to the Crow’s request and dropped her hand back to her side to trade off, “Don’t worry, if they call you heretic I won’t come chasing,” she’d leave it to others. The Crow had helped.

She took the lead towards the park, the gate of it open, even if all the benches were empty of people. There was a patrol in place, the sight of lanterns further on indication of that, as was the sound of dogs. ‘Not good.’ Dogs were only going to make noise if they found something worth drawing attention to. They weren’t heading towards them, thankfully.

By the time they reached the opposite gate that led to the stairs towards the cathedral, a beast burst into the area, fire in its hands that it threw right into the dogs, earning pained yelps from the creatures. “Of course it has fire, why wouldn’t it?” the sarcasm couldn’t be contained, flashes of Laurence returning to mind.

The child huddled closer to its mother, while the woman herself had clamped a hand around her own mouth to contain a scream. If only it had worked; the beasts attention shifted at the sound, obviously enough.

“Get them up, Crow, I’ll deal with this if it comes near.” She was stepping towards the lever that would close the gate. She could do that much, then stay behind to make sure if it broke through, it had to deal with her – and unload bullets on it until then. Maybe it would get the smart idea to leave her alone. Probably not.