[h3]Pthumeru Yharnam layer, the Old Labyrinth[/h3]
Receiving Ophelia's orders prompted a firm nod from Torquil, who hoisted his Loch Shield for a moment, only to stop himself and consider what he had just been told. They were up against something wielding a blade with “colossal strength,” apparently, and as situationally useful the Loch Shield had been against Skinner and the darkbeast's lightning, he also remembered very well how little the shield had done to protect him from a direct hit of the undead monster's claws. If Ophelia was right and whatever was down here fought primarily with brute strength...
Somewhat hesitantly Torquil took the Loch Shield off his left hand and hung it from a strap over his shoulder instead. He was not foolish enough to throw it away like he had against the darkbeast, nor was he confident enough that his deduction was right to hand it off to the Messengers, but the way he saw it, he would gain more from having an extra hand on Fulmen than he would having the shield.
With that part of his plan in place and a role assigned by Ophelia, the only thing Torquil had left to decide for himself was which Caryll Rune to use. Part of him was still slightly distressed that he had not simply been told which rune to use, or even just offered and recommended one... but another part did not mind too much anymore. It felt as though it was becoming more and more effortless for him to think with each new nightmare he lived through. So he considered the Caryll Runes the others had taught him, considered how he fought and how his battles had gone in the past. He mentally ran through his inventory of items in his bag – four blood vials, a piece of bolt paper and the blue elixir that had appeared there after the Winter Lantern killed him – and considered how to best utilize what was available to him.
Ultimately Torquil determined that he, with his meager supply of blood vials and undeniably impressive physique, was best served by simply having a slightly better change at avoiding damage. So he took the runebrand and – flinching a little less now than last time he had touched it upon his skin – branded himself with the Lake Rune. “We've got to make you more hardy,” Farren had said. Well, Torquil would much rather be just that little more likely to avoid or at least limit the damage he took than just being able to wear it.

Gerlinde, meanwhile, spent a moment calmly strolling up and down the hallway, performing her own silent examination of the corpses at the same time as Ophelia did hers. She listened to Ophelia's evaluation with an unwavering smile, slowly nodding her head.
“Skinner,” she muttered to herself, her eyes growing a size wider. “Hungry,” she whispered, and her lips parted to show off her perfect teeth in a grin practically glowing with madness. “Unrelenting assault, yes. I can do that; carve the flesh, spill the blood.” She turned her head to look at Ophelia. “Snakey still has the mouthful of arcane healing, in case it becomes relevant. If things get bad enough, come to me; it's only once, but it's quite powerful.”
With that, Gerlinde retrieved the runebrand after Torquil was done with it, and quickly afflicted herself with a new Caryll Rune without telling anyone which one. Then she went straight to the many-eyed creature in the strange garb and the pointy, wide-brimmed hat, seized its left hand and swiftly used her threaded cane to sever its pinky. Peeling the finger – shriveled, miscolored and misshapen, much like Pallid's body had been – out of its armored sleeve, she then raised the finger to her face, put it between her teeth, bit into it and tore off a small piece of its flesh. She swallowed without chewing, paused, and smiled again as she opened her pouch and stored the pinky in there.
Gerlinde then proceeded to go first to the two demonic dogs, then the larger Pthumerian creatures, and finally each of the fifteen smaller of the fresh corpses, and for each and every one of them she cut off a small piece of them, took a bite, and stored the rest in her pouch.