Sorry I'm a bit of a rare guest but I see no reason to hold back for my sake. I can't think of anything else she'd point out for the time being and she is certainly not going to run into the fray. For now I think she's content to sit and I'll describe as much when I get round to making a post.
Ashgan
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Neat :D Gonna have to rack up that insight real high. 'licia can't fight but maybe she'll ding dong some bells for fun and profit in the future.
Sorry for letting you wait for a while and post multiple times in a row Jack. This last one helped give me something to work with. I realize in hindsight that I wrote Adelicia as a fairly passive character which really does not work in her writer's favor in scenes like these. But as the night goes on, I think I'll maneuver her into a slightly more proactive role.
“What is it?” Adelicia delicately asked, unable to see past his broad shoulders beyond the narrow doorframe. She did not like the way he had suddenly halted without warning, nor did she like that it meant they were stuck outside of the house – and thus in dangerous reach of the invisible thing. Feeling a nervous tingle descend her spine, she cast an uneasy glance backward across the dusk-lit street, observing nothing save boarded-up houses and dusty cobblestones. “Why are-“ she began, turning her head back towards the clinic only to realize that he was gone. Left little time to process the proceeding turn of events, the young saint shrieked with terror when a gunshot roared from inside the clinic and dived for cover next to the door frame.
Heart racing, she clutched her chest in a futile attempt to calm it. “Gods above,” she whispered to herself with labored breath, “What do I do? What do I do?” From within, a symphony of violence assaulted her ears: sounds of rent flesh and spilt blood, of clashing steel and broken bone – and, worst of all, bestial screams made by human vocal cords. It was easy to sit in a lecture hall and say ‘this is a beast, and this is a man’ but out here, away from the safety of locked doors, warding incense and a private army, the difference between the two felt very blurry. She began to wonder what would happen to her if she were found, by maddened Yharnamites or a bloodfrenzied Victor. A beast, she believed, was frightening but also predictable in its desires. It would tear her apart, to drink her blood and eat her flesh. But a human? Men, she felt, were capable of so much worse than mere slaughter. Shivering, she almost wished that the great, unseen thing that had taken Raine would take her too, out of mercy or pity. Save her from the cruelty of man. Save her from her own human fears.
But no merciful hand came and plucked her from above. She remained where she was, terrified and alone outside the clinic doors, hoping that nothing at all came out to find her. That was when the singularly striking and curious chime of a bell resounded from inside, again and again, frantic if one fancied so. To the uneducated, ringing a bell in the midst of conflict might appear as an act of madness or religious mania, but Adelicia knew better than to dismiss the repetitive sound that made her feel more and more uneasy with every reverberation. Ancient bells had been found in the place where the holy medium was brought up from and they were not mere trinkets; they were tools used by our forebears to communicate with other places or even travel there. Or, indeed, to bring things out of it. She felt her heart sink and a cold shiver of dread wash over her when she realized that this must be the origin of the black creature her companions had fought near the elevator, for it had not been a normal beast, or even a thing of this world at all. It had come from nowhere and returned to nowhere. Beckoned by the bell, or perhaps made by it. And where one came from, surely there were more…!
Swallowing her fear, she gingerly placed her hand on the door frame and peeked inside. The first thing that presented itself was the bloody skirmish Victor had embroiled himself in. Although he appeared to be handily beating an entire throng of crudely-armed Yharnamites, his posture, way of movement and sheer facial expression left little doubt in her mind as to his true nature, and that of hunters in general. In her heart of hearts, she knew now that hunters were nothing more than beasts themselves, the only difference being the leash around their neck. A leash they sooner or later will snap. But this was not what she was looking for and so she continued surveying the demolished clinic, laying her eyes on the ruined beds and cabinets, smashed bottles and broken chairs, as well as the last, remaining pair of citizens who were surely breathing their final breaths as they approached the crazed hunter. In the end, however – leaning further into the doorway – she finally spotted the object of her attention: the sullen-faced, corpse-like Pthumerian, although Adelicia would not know to call it that. Armed with the implements of a church servant – whose countenance was not dissimilar to this creature, she realized – it shook the bell in what could almost be described as a frenzy.
She remembered how badly a single shadow-borne creature had injured her companions, two on one. If this thing could summon more of them, surely Victor was doomed, even if she offered her blood to him. Uncertain whether he, a mere hunter, realized the threat this arcane implemented posed for him – and thus also her – she felt the need to do something. She thought of throwing something at the bell-ringer, or to pick up one of the fallen Yharnamites’ weapons, but discarded these options as barbaric and futile – she would likely not even be capable of hurting this bizarre humanoid and would only make a target of herself. But Victor, he could do it. He had to.
“The bell!” Adelicia yelped over the din of battle, hoping that the hunter would hear her – and have the sanity to process her words. “You have to stop the bell! It beckons monstrous things!”
Heart racing, she clutched her chest in a futile attempt to calm it. “Gods above,” she whispered to herself with labored breath, “What do I do? What do I do?” From within, a symphony of violence assaulted her ears: sounds of rent flesh and spilt blood, of clashing steel and broken bone – and, worst of all, bestial screams made by human vocal cords. It was easy to sit in a lecture hall and say ‘this is a beast, and this is a man’ but out here, away from the safety of locked doors, warding incense and a private army, the difference between the two felt very blurry. She began to wonder what would happen to her if she were found, by maddened Yharnamites or a bloodfrenzied Victor. A beast, she believed, was frightening but also predictable in its desires. It would tear her apart, to drink her blood and eat her flesh. But a human? Men, she felt, were capable of so much worse than mere slaughter. Shivering, she almost wished that the great, unseen thing that had taken Raine would take her too, out of mercy or pity. Save her from the cruelty of man. Save her from her own human fears.
But no merciful hand came and plucked her from above. She remained where she was, terrified and alone outside the clinic doors, hoping that nothing at all came out to find her. That was when the singularly striking and curious chime of a bell resounded from inside, again and again, frantic if one fancied so. To the uneducated, ringing a bell in the midst of conflict might appear as an act of madness or religious mania, but Adelicia knew better than to dismiss the repetitive sound that made her feel more and more uneasy with every reverberation. Ancient bells had been found in the place where the holy medium was brought up from and they were not mere trinkets; they were tools used by our forebears to communicate with other places or even travel there. Or, indeed, to bring things out of it. She felt her heart sink and a cold shiver of dread wash over her when she realized that this must be the origin of the black creature her companions had fought near the elevator, for it had not been a normal beast, or even a thing of this world at all. It had come from nowhere and returned to nowhere. Beckoned by the bell, or perhaps made by it. And where one came from, surely there were more…!
Swallowing her fear, she gingerly placed her hand on the door frame and peeked inside. The first thing that presented itself was the bloody skirmish Victor had embroiled himself in. Although he appeared to be handily beating an entire throng of crudely-armed Yharnamites, his posture, way of movement and sheer facial expression left little doubt in her mind as to his true nature, and that of hunters in general. In her heart of hearts, she knew now that hunters were nothing more than beasts themselves, the only difference being the leash around their neck. A leash they sooner or later will snap. But this was not what she was looking for and so she continued surveying the demolished clinic, laying her eyes on the ruined beds and cabinets, smashed bottles and broken chairs, as well as the last, remaining pair of citizens who were surely breathing their final breaths as they approached the crazed hunter. In the end, however – leaning further into the doorway – she finally spotted the object of her attention: the sullen-faced, corpse-like Pthumerian, although Adelicia would not know to call it that. Armed with the implements of a church servant – whose countenance was not dissimilar to this creature, she realized – it shook the bell in what could almost be described as a frenzy.
She remembered how badly a single shadow-borne creature had injured her companions, two on one. If this thing could summon more of them, surely Victor was doomed, even if she offered her blood to him. Uncertain whether he, a mere hunter, realized the threat this arcane implemented posed for him – and thus also her – she felt the need to do something. She thought of throwing something at the bell-ringer, or to pick up one of the fallen Yharnamites’ weapons, but discarded these options as barbaric and futile – she would likely not even be capable of hurting this bizarre humanoid and would only make a target of herself. But Victor, he could do it. He had to.
“The bell!” Adelicia yelped over the din of battle, hoping that the hunter would hear her – and have the sanity to process her words. “You have to stop the bell! It beckons monstrous things!”
Yeah, sorry about that. I'll try to get something in but if you're pressed, you can assume that Adelicia will do no such thing as rushing into the clinic or anything. Most likely, she's going to take cover next to the door outside and wait for - something, I suppose. In that sense, you can work on collaborations with the others players having this course of action in mind. Violence isn't quite her domain, after all. (Not yet, anyway 0.0)
Hey Jack, I have to wonder: did Victor visit the labyrinth, or is knowledge of what a Pthumerian is something common (at least to a hunter)? Correct me if my understanding of the lore is wrong, but I would imagine that the average Yharnamite has no idea about Pthumeru or possibly the labyrinth in general - and by that token I would also think that Adelicia would not be familiar with them? On the flipside I could see her knowing about the significance of bells in matters of the arcane.
I think it's safe for you to continue your post a bit, would give me a bit more to work with - as it is, I think she would just follow him rather closely (she did hold out her hand, after all - though he predictably didn't lead her by it) and then ask him why he stopped at the door. I can flesh out the specifics thereof in my next post, but you can probably work with these assumptions.
Assuming Adelicia questions Victor - probably with some concern and panicked impatience - why he is stopping at the door, would it distract him enough to end up getting shot? Or do you want me to just make a brief post detailing her immediate action and let you handle the follow-up?
Back in the game. ;_;
Adelicia stood still, stiff as a candle, and quietly observed Victor’s methodic approach to finding the unseen creature – whatever it may be. If fear hadn’t taken her voice, she might have retorted how insulting it was to be told that panicking would not help them; what did he know of fear, after all? What, was she supposed to just will her beating heart to slow down? To turn down her leaping thoughts, eager to jump to horrible conclusions? She could not even say that he was wrong, for surely, he was not. But it was not fair that she should be judged for something she had no control over. More than anything, her feelings at this very moment proved to her that she, at least, was still human in some measure. The same could not be said for the thing in human skin that stood before her.
Yet, in the end, it was all the same. If she did not put herself at his mercy, she was instead at the mercy of whatever nameless and unseen terrors made this city their home. Perhaps her life had never been in her own hands, not once since the day she was born. It had simply not occurred to her to look at it this way. In some measure, she could almost understand the desire to become a hunter. Although nominally servants of the church – like herself – it was nonetheless an act of liberation and a promotion of personal agency. Victor had no need to feel fear, for he was in control of his own fate. The only thing holding him down was her frailty, not any flaw of his own. How much did he hate her, she had to wonder?
“Take me inside, or wherever you will,” Adelicia quivered with bated breath, “My fate is yours to decide no matter where we go.”
Resigning herself to the inevitable, she approached him without hesitation anymore, for it was useless to escape him, or the dark things observing them. What will be, will be – and so she reached out her hand to him and prayed that he was, after all, the lesser evil.
Yet, in the end, it was all the same. If she did not put herself at his mercy, she was instead at the mercy of whatever nameless and unseen terrors made this city their home. Perhaps her life had never been in her own hands, not once since the day she was born. It had simply not occurred to her to look at it this way. In some measure, she could almost understand the desire to become a hunter. Although nominally servants of the church – like herself – it was nonetheless an act of liberation and a promotion of personal agency. Victor had no need to feel fear, for he was in control of his own fate. The only thing holding him down was her frailty, not any flaw of his own. How much did he hate her, she had to wonder?
“Take me inside, or wherever you will,” Adelicia quivered with bated breath, “My fate is yours to decide no matter where we go.”
Resigning herself to the inevitable, she approached him without hesitation anymore, for it was useless to escape him, or the dark things observing them. What will be, will be – and so she reached out her hand to him and prayed that he was, after all, the lesser evil.
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