[h3]Eastern Yharnam, Hunter's clinic[/h3]
As the needle of the blood vial pierced the unconscious Hunter's skin and went deep, finding the artery within, the vial seemed to abruptly get sucked dry in but an instant despite the lack of any kind of mechanical delivery mechanism. It was as though the specially treated blood within, as soon as it came into contact with the Hunter's blood, rushed to join the bloodstream by a will of its own. And as the vial emptied itself into the man, bestowing innate regenerative power beyond what could be harnessed from normal blood of man or beast, Arcturus would witness every single wound on the man's body heal in but a second.
His body physically mended the Hunter remained on the ground, eyes closed, but started turning onto his back and groaning, his breath becoming deeper and steadier as his life force stabilized. Witnessing the restorative power harnessed by the Healing Church was always impressive, especially when it came condensed into such tiny vessels as this vial, but watching this man recovering to seemingly perfect health from the verge of death would nevertheless likely be a particularly impressive sight.

Leaving the still-unconscious but restored Hunter alone, Arcturus turned his attention to the tall ghoulish creature that lay carved in two, the pools of its blood – one surrounding its legs, one its torso – overlapping and mixing with the blood of the Hunter he had just saved from the clutches of death. He inspected the bell next to the creature – the one it would likely not be too hard to identify as the “hoarse man” from beyond the door – and the Messenger next to it moved aside to allow him a better view. It looked at Arcturus for a moment, hanging its arms and head in what seemed like confusion and disappointment with its own findings upon examining the bell, and vanished into the floor.
The bell, on a closer look, seemed entirely mundane. It was very easily recognizable to anyone who had more than a passing experience in Yharnam as the bell carried around the neck of a church servant. It was big, clunky, made of brass and bore a number of dents and bruises from having been in use for an extended period of time. Aside from the bloodstains that marked it, much like many other things in the room, the bell seemed entirely unremarkable.
Arcturus managed to wrap and pad the bell well enough with the ripped cloth of the corpse, without sound, and it seemed that handling the resulting bundle was safe.

By the time Marcus read the note presented to him by the Messengers, Torquil had also entered the room, axe in hand. He looked around at the surrounding carnage in awe, though his attention was helplessly drawn to the bizarre sight of the skeletal arm sticking out of the floor and, more importantly, the unlit lantern hanging from its hand. He seemed fascinated with it and the way this mass of little ones was trying to draw their attention to it.
About at the same time, however, the now-restored Hunter on the ground seemed to stir. He moved sluggishly for a second, as if waking from a deep slumber, before suddenly rolling backward, away from everyone and deeper into the corner of the room, and jolting swiftly to his feet. He faced them all, fists held up in a defensive stance, his breath now rapid and panicked, as his gaze shifted rapidly from Arcturus to Marcus, to Torquil and to the huddling Adelicia. His eyes seemed strange for a moment, the irises seeming to shift and writhe with a life of their own while his pupils seemed to shine like those of some animals' eyes. Once his gaze found the woman, however, his posture seemed to somewhat relax, and his eyes lost both the unnatural moving irises and their inhuman glow, resuming the appearance of normal dark blue eyes.

And just then...
[hr]
[h3]Eastern Yharnam, outside the Hunter's clinic[/h3]
The four bloodied Yharnamites did not wait to hear what Draco had to say, but simply fled into the house as soon as the door was open, leaving him to address the group of civilians that had been traveling with him. The civilians seemed deeply perturbed by Draco's words, and although several faces lit up with hope at the mention of possibly being escorted to a shelter, it was pretty clear that there was a predominantly grim and fearful mood among them. Even the few that seemed to respond positively soon resumed expressions of wariness and fear.
As Draco headed for the squat building that marked the end of the path, about half of the group seemed to immediately run into the nearby house where the four other Yharnamites had gone, before the rest started slowly, hesitantly filtering in there as well. By time Draco had reached the sole entrance to the building, the entire group of civilians had vacated the street and hid within the house, the door they had entered through swinging shut with a barely audible noise. It seemed that whatever admonitions and recommendations Draco could offer, staying in the street when beasts were about, let alone actively pursuing an area with beasts, was too much for these common folk of the city.

Draco entered the open doorway, the censer beside it unlit, to find the room beyond wrecked and devastated in a way that suggested targeted harmful intent toward the actual furnishing of the room more so than collateral damage in a fight. A fight had undeniably occurred, however, evidenced by the large amounts of blood scattered across mostly the far side of the room, with but a few drops having fallen just inside the doorway. Immediately to Draco's right was a young woman, seeming little more than a girl, in the garb of the White Healing Church, keeping her distance from everything else in the room.
Directly in front of him were three men, all in commoner's clothes and wielding mundane weapons, but all looking a little bloody, with one of them, a tall, pale, blonde and icy-eyed man currently handling a small bundle of cloth of some kind, seeming to have taken the worst of it, the entire lower half of his body seemingly drenched in blood, though seemingly not his own. There were also two corpses, one of which was a Yharnamite not unlike the four Draco had just encountered outside, with a deep gash across his torso. The other one could only somewhat be justifiably referred to as “human,” seeming more like an unusually tall, partially mummified corpse clad in simple robes. This inhuman creature was even worse off than the Yharnamite, having been carved in two at the waist.
Past the sundered corpse of this creature lay what would probably be a familiar sight to Draco, namely a Holy Blade in its giant form, its placement and bloodiness heavily suggestive of this having been the tool to kill the two fallen. And finally, standing in the far right corner with his back to the wall, was a man in the garb of the Healing Church, though whether it was black or white was rendered unrecognizable by the sheer amounts of blood he seemed to have been drenched in. This man, all color erased by a near-perfect coating of blood, stood defensively with his fists raised in front of him and jolted once more into a wary and defensive stance as his eyes came to rest on Draco.