[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5022268][img]https://i.imgur.com/yW2VDaL.png[/img][/url]
[h3]Eastern Yharnam, Hunter's clinic[/h3]
Though innately the property about Victor that improved the fastest with his growing power, his regenerative ability was not the primary reason he had managed to survive as a Hunter. Even as a human mercenary without superhuman durability or powers of healing Victor had still been a force to be reckoned with, despite not being particularly skilled at swordsmanship and plenty of soldiers being stronger and faster than him. His ancestral armor had helped his human self the same as his hardiness did now, keeping him alive, but that only helped him last longer, not win. It was an advantage, but not the true weapon that carried him to victory.
Victor's greatest strength was his bottomless, all-consuming and relentless [I]rage[/I].

Now in the midst of battle Victor was done thinking, done worrying, done planning; his vision went red, his heartbeat quickened, his pupils dilated... as with a wordless roar he swung the small sword in his hand, not with precision or skill, but seeped with every drop of malice flowing from him. He slashed to his right without looking, catching one of the huntsmen – one armed with a pitchfork – by surprise, aside the improvised weapon and carving a horizontal gash across his chest.
He immediately turned with the strike, turning around fully, before [i]jumping[/I] at a huntsman that had tried to flank him from behind. The huntsman let out a yelp of surprise and pain, reflexively pushing his own weapon – a large hunting knife – into Victor's abdomen, while Victor vindictively stabbed the other in the chest with his much longer blade, running him through fully, as both of them tumbled to the ground with a crash.
A third huntsman – fourth if one counted the rifleman – rushed Victor from his right, from the direction of the door to the cot room, and performed a downward smash on the Hunter's right shoulder with a woodcutters hatchet, but Victor barely felt the pain anymore. The attack only made his left hand dart up from his side, in front of his mostly outstretched right arm, and instinctively aimed at center of mass of his assailant with his blunderbuss before pulling the trigger. With a blast of gunfire the hatchet-wielding huntsman staggered away, the entire front of his body bloody and torn from the barrage of quicksilver pellets.

While the two last huntsmen – one armed with another pitchfork and the other with what appeared to be a broken-off table leg – tried to find a way to attack the murderous Hunter without hitting or getting in the way of their four comrades, the Pthumerian retreated to the corner of the room to the far right of the door into the cot room. With gritted teeth the only somewhat humanoid creature raised his left hand, holding his bell aloft, and started swinging it quickly and rhythmically from side to side, producing a haunting, continuous and somehow desperate-seeming sound:
[I]Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding[/I]

~~~

Inside the cot room Arcturus and Marcus each engaged their own monstrous opponents. Marcus, having misjudged the Mad One's sense of self-preservation, failed to evade its seizing hand, allowing its long, sharp nails to dig into his flesh as it clutched him tightly. As the creature went to bite him, however, something in Marcus seemed to react to his adversary's badly weakened, badly injured state; allowing his instincts to take over he did not even realize that his right hand changed on its own, growing larger and forming claws before plunging into the monster's abdomen, ripping through the malleable organs within before gripping them and viciously tearing out as much of it as he could, covering the lower half of his own body in viscera as a deluge of blood poured from the creature's shredded middle.
The Mad One's body jerked from the force of Marcus' visceral attack, its head slowing its movement toward the Hunter's neck before stopping entirely about ten centimeters (four inches) from its target. It seemed to pause for a second, its grip on Marcus' shoulder getting looser, before its jaw went slack and the light in its eyes literally extinguished.

The bestial huntsman, meanwhile, was not as suicidal as his otherworldly fellow and reacted to Arcturus' attack by stopping its approach and even taking a step backward, shielding itself as best it could with the sword it had taken from Marcus while keeping its cleaver poised to attack. Stepping back only switched which leg Arcturus aimed for, however, and the newly transformed Hunter chopped at the creature's shin just below the knee, drawing blood. Unfortunately that seemed to the the [I]only[/I] effect the attack had; the beast proved much more durable than the unexpectedly fragile Mad One, and the bone seemed to completely stop the blade before it could cause any more seriously crippling damage.

[I]Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding[/I]

A rapid, continuous ringing of the ominous bell from beyond the door punctuated the sounds of an intense fight outside, a different kind of ringing than before that somehow conveyed desperation, sounding very much like a last resort of someone expecting defeat. Though this might give the Hunters hope and hint to them that the skirmish had started to turn in their favor, it might also invoke instinctual wariness just from the fact that an opponent was never more dangerous than when its back was against the wall.
As the bell rang and kept ringing, Marcus would feel the grip of the Mad One's right hand on his shoulder suddenly tighten once again, driving its nails deep into him with newfound, bone-wrenching strength as its eyes reignited with even greater intensity than before. A crunching noise accompanied its skull seeming to right the indentation on its own, and the crushed bones in its left arm spontaneously snapped back in place, causing the limb to spring back to life as a hungry hiss left its throat. Below, though Marcus likely could not see it from his vantage point, its stomach regrew in an instant.
The Mad One proceeded to actually [I]pick up[/I] Marcus by his shoulder, lifting him off the ground with one arm.

Over at Arcturus' part of the room the bell seemed to have an effect on the beast, too, this time, as its eyes seemed to suddenly glaze over with red, dimly glowing mist. Letting out a thunderous roar with all the fury the scourge of beasts could muster, the bestial huntsman threw up both of its arms over its head, ignoring the noise of its blades grinding against the wooden ceiling, before slamming both weapons down upon Arcturus with what would obviously be terrifying strength.