Dark Jack

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

@Habibi359 Oh, you went ahead that far. Generally I would recommend that if your characters moves to see something they could not see before, you should really either let me describe what they see or at least confer with me to know what they find. In this case your post would be mistaken: all but one of the Yharnamite huntsmen in the next room are still alive (the one having been cleaved diagonally halfway through his torso being the only death among them). The remaining five have dropped their weapons and just just seem very frightened of and indecisive about the entire circumstance.

Likewise if you ever want to examine something closer IC, just have your characters actually examine the thing and I will provide additional details about it, sort of like I did with Arcturus and the disease-ridden corpse. I'll often exclude details from the quick overview of a thing based on what I think the characters would actually be able to notice.

I swear, the hardest part about GM'ing isn't keeping track of everything, but rather to restrain myself from telling the players everything...

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Eastern Yharnam, relatively near the Hunter's clinic, bottom of the elevator

The elevator had made it about two-thirds of the way to the bottom when the beast-armed man arrived – panting from the exertion of pushing his body past its physical limitations – and stopped a mere couple of meters from where Draco and the civilians were waiting anxiously for their way out. Now that this half-man creature was closer, it was entirely evident to everyone who cared to glance at him that it was, in fact, only his arms that were bestial. The ribbons of fur and leather hanging off his body appeared to be either entire pelts of various smaller creatures, like rabbits and foxes, or cut-out strips of larger ones that were harder to identify. The leathers were likewise difficult to determine an origin of, and while some of it looked like ordinary leather from cattle or the like, but some of it looked unusual, pale and untreated compared to the rest.
It looked almost like strips of flayed human skin.
It was also quite evident that he had taken some hits in the fight against Stefan, him having several bloody cuts in his clothes and some burned spots here and there, including a side of burn hair on his hood. It was difficult to tell how much those wounds affected him due to his inhuman nature, of course; closer inspection would reveal that all of his wounds had regenerated, and there was no way to tell how much regenerative potential he had left.

Hearing Draco's declaration seemed to be what brought the stranger to pause, causing him to skid to a stop. His eyes narrowed confusedly as he stared at Draco intently, then at the weapon in his hands, then at Draco again. He sniffed loudly several times in Draco's direction before frowning at him deeply.
“Disappointing,” he sighed, seemingly no longer interested in the civilians as he started turning to the giant and scourge beasts still locked in combat.
As the elevator came to a clanking stop at the bottom of its shaft the beast-armed man rushed off toward the battle, viciously grabbing the closest of the three scourge beasts by the scruff of its neck with his bestial left hand before flinging it onto its back. As the civilians hurriedly piled onto the waiting platform – luckily avoiding the pressure plate in the middle of the floor that would cause the elevator to ascend – the murderer jumped on top of the toppled beast and started tearing into its chest with both hands.
When the two remaining scourge beasts and the giant all turned their attention on this violent stranger, it became pretty clear that he was not going to pursue the civilians for the moment. The rest of the group crowded tightly near the edges of the platform, seemingly content to leave stepping on the button to Draco.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Streets of eastern Central Yharnam, just south of the plateau elevator

Not a beast. Worse. Far worse. A Hunter's worst nightmare. Unaffected by incense, could walk among humans, Yharnamites and Hunters unnoticed if so desired. Much more versatile, unpredictable and intelligent than a beast. Able to match every power and skill Stefan had move by move, and with the same endless potential as himself.
It had taken Stefan only a single glance at the man he had been fighting to realize what he was fighting: another Hunter.
The realization had flustered and confused him, his mind trying to come up with an explanation for these dire circumstances he suddenly found himself in even as he was desperately trying to defend himself. It had been a trap. This Hunter, whoever he was, had most likely been following them in the shadows for a while, only to seize the opportunity when they paused their walk and were distracted to make a ruckus.
For a moment he wondered about the why of it, until the other Hunter was upon him and he felt once again the other's brute strength and ferocity, his power. Hunters and beasts grew their power from their victims, with more and stronger prey growing their prowess to ever greater heights, and this other Hunter was evidently significantly stronger and more durable than Stefan. This man had obviously done a great deal of killing to gain this strength. He could have a purpose in killing church Hunters specifically, but it was most likely also a simple matter of Stefan – a relatively veteran Hunter – representing strong prey. Killing Stefan would make this man even stronger.

Though robbed of his church pick and badly wounded, Stefan still forced himself to roll from his prone position into a sitting one, reaching both hands to his left hip as he looked around frantically. The civilians were running, at least, though they had not gotten as far as Stefan had hoped. He winced. If this savage Hunter killed him now, there was little doubt that he could easily catch up to Draco and the others before they reached the elevator. Stefan had wounded the other Hunter pretty bad, he knew, and must have depleted his regenerative potential quite a bit, but the dutiful servant of the Healing Church still had his doubts that a few huntsmen would stand much of a chance even against a weakened Hunter of this caliber. Stefan had to persevere at least a little longer... or those people were doomed.
He jabbed the syringe of another blood vial into his left thigh – three left, he reminded himself – and immediately felt his wounds accelerate their mending, his own regenerative potential restored. He was going to need all of his strength for this fight. With his right hand he unclasped the torch hanging from his belt, wielding it as a mace. His left hand discarded the now-empty blood vial, grabbed a small flintlock and used it to strike a spark to ignite the torch.
The other Hunter, meanwhile, took a moment to pull out the sword that he was still impaled upon, producing another gout of blood as his wounds came unplugged, before grasping the weapon with both hands and, with a moment's strain on his inhuman arms, snapped the blade on the middle before discarding the broken weapon in the street before turning his attention to Stefan once again.
The weapon wielded by the hostile Hunter was known to Stefan only by reputation, though he knew enough of it to recognize it at sight: it was a so-called beast claw, a profane armament crafted from the still-living bones of a darkbeast. The artifact itself was actually the fist weapon in his right hand, which was what caused the bestial transformation of his arms. A weapon made to allow Hunters to fight like beasts do... a truly abominable thing and, worryingly, a trophy taken from the strongest of beasts.

When the enemy rushed in to renew his attack once more Stefan reacted with a quickstep of his own, darting past the other so that they both ended up just behind each other, only for Stefan to immediately spin around, winding up his right arm as he went, and quickly slammed his lit torch into the other's side. He watched with some satisfaction as the bestial Hunter withdrew a little and staggered, clearly fazed by the fiery attack, but had to duck into a crouch but a second later when his left great claw came scything toward Stefan's head.
Against his better judgment Stefan went in closer, almost placing the two men chest-to-chest, before unleashing a barrage of strikes with his torch upon the other, swinging the fiery weapon as fast and hard as he could. The other seemed to momentarily panic and tried to retreat once more, as Stefan had hoped, only to leave an opening for Stefan to strike a clean blow against his opponent's head, sending him stumbling, the pelts that made up his primitive clothing smoldering.
How am I doing better with a bloody torch than with my trick weapon? he thought incredulously, idly twirling the improvised weapon in his hand as he put some distance between himself and his adversary, who was now glaring at him with eyes emanating rage and hatred. Of course, he had a pretty good idea why, since he had intentionally changed his tactics to achieve it: the simple act of Stefan taking the initiative and working to attack rather than defend himself was throwing off the extremely aggressive Hunter.
Stefan smiled at the other with newfound confidence. If that was really all it took, maybe he could win this fight after all.
The murderous Hunter stepped forward once again, drawing back his right arm and obviously winding up a slash or punch with all of his strength, prompting Stefan to quickstep to the man's right, now-vulnerable side outside the range of the prepared attack to land a blow of his own. He swung his torch at the other's head...
Something hit Stefan's jaw on the left side, momentarily just leaving him confused and dizzy, barely even realizing that he was stumbling to his knees. It took him a couple of seconds to understand that his opponent had changed his attack in the last instant as a reaction to Stefan moving; instead of slashing or punching, he had used the stored energy in his right arm to elbow Stefan in the head, which he had been in an almost ideal position for. A second later the pain hit, as did the halfway sad and halfway fascinated realization that he had several knocked-out teeth rattling around in his mouth now. The left hinge of his jaw felt like it had been shattered.

Stefan tried desperately to stagger back to his feet, coughing out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth. He could not think. Could barely even see clearly, struggling against the vertigo that assailed him. He just needed time. Just a moment. If he could just regenerate a little he could go on. Just a moment... just...
There was a blur, and Stefan felt something big, sharp and very, very bad plunge into his abdomen. Claws. Beast claws. The bestial Hunter had visceral attacked him with his beast-hand, burying the entire giant hand in Stefan's guts.
“You church Hunters,” the other hissed wickedly, his voice dripping with disgust and amusement. “So predictable. So arrogant. So bloody stupid!”
Movement below, sudden and violent. Pain. Unimaginable pain. Emptiness. The other was holding up his inhuman left hand, but there was something dangling from it. Stefan squinted, but could not see. Then he realized: he was holding Stefan's guts.
He could not make out the other's face anymore, but he could hear the smile in his voice. “It's going to be a good hunt tonight.”

~~~

Eastern Yharnam, relatively near the Hunter's clinic, bottom of the elevator

The civilians ran as best they could under Draco's guidance, some of the less athletically inclined citizens having to be urged on several times when they started slowing down. The distance was not too great, however, and soon they managed to reach the foot of the elevator... only to find that the elevator itself was currently at the top of the shaft, not the bottom. There was a lever in the ground next to the shaft, which one of the civilians at the front of the group went to pull. The mechanism was activated with a loud “snap”, and with a faint rattle of chains the platform above started descending toward its waiting passengers.

In the street in front of the elevator, about twenty meters (65 feet) from the elevator itself, the church giant was still engaged in its own battle. Now that Draco and the others were much closer than before, it became evident that the giant – wearing several deep, bloody lacerations upon its colossal frame – was in the process of fighting off a pack of three scourge beasts, with another two lying dead in the street, smashed to bits by the giant's axe. The large, wolf-like monsters were similarly distracted with fighting the giant, running around to evade its devastating blows while occasionally leaping at it, raking their claws against his skin or burying their teeth in his flesh. A little further off was also the corpse of a church servant, though there did not appear to be any more of their kind around.

While the civilians crowded at the bottom of the elevator shaft, panting, sobbing, whimpering and complaining about how long it took for the elevator to descend, Stefan, back where they had come from, having bought them all the time he could, drew his last breath. The beast-armed killer then turned, looking in their direction, and started sprinting toward them at inhuman speeds.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Just let me know if my posts haven't given you enough to work with and I'll progress time a bit further.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Insights gained: Beckoning bell and Mad Echo

Marcus, Arcturus

With the threat of a hoarse voice from beyond a closed door, Marcus and Arcturus heard the clearly supernatural sound of a bell, only for the sound to seemingly summon a creature not unlike a Mad One within the room. This creature behaved strangely, however; it did not seem aggressive until injured, and only seemed to grow more feral, stronger and faster the more damage it sustained. While the Mad Echo did not seem to regenerate on its own, each toll of the bell seemed to instantly mend all damage, restoring it even from death. Upon the silencing of the bell the Mad Echo vanished, suggesting that the life force of the Mad Echo is somehow tied to it.
They do not have a full understanding of the mechanics of the bell or the Mad Echo, but have witnessed enough to possibly make some conclusions on their own.

Also:

Marcus, Arcturus and Torquil feel a strange sensation as something invisible and weightless clings to them. They all now have some unbound blood echoes.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Eastern Yharnam, Hunter's clinic

Over by the slain beast the recently awakened Torquil simply nodded at Marcus' introduction and recommendations, clearly reluctant to speak out loud now that he was conscious of his broken ability to speak and, with a final shove of his foot to the creature he had just killed – not vindictively, but more in a manner as if to assure himself that it was indeed dead – he went over to the corner with the barrels of weapons. He moved carefully through the room, looking around incredulously as he went at the unusual number of cots filling the room, more than half of which having been knocked over or tossed aside during the skirmish. A handful of the sleepers were visibly injured, having suffered significant cuts, bruises and broken bones, and at least two seemed to have suffered severe enough wounds that they were doubtlessly dead, with one having been literally disemboweled and another lay in a pool of blood from an open skull fracture.
Some of the ones that were most likely only injured and not dead seemed to be visibly regenerating, interestingly, but at varying rates and none of them as quickly as would be expected of a Hunter. With some there was practically no visible recovery, whereas others were regenerating at a rate that promised them back to full health in less than a minute. Everyone here had clearly been given the blood treatment to become Hunters, but seemed to be in different stages of metamorphosis, lending them more or less of the natural vitality of a Hunter.

Meanwhile Arcturus, now that things had seemingly calmed down and the pain of his internal injuries had somewhat abated, checked the pulse of the visibly diseased individual that lay sprawled next to him, only to find the skin cold to the touch and no pulse to be felt. Whichever ailment had claimed this woman was one that none of the people currently in the clinic was familiar with, and with no other visible injuries upon her body it would only be natural to assume that it had been the cause of her death.
Were one to survey the rest of the room they would find another four bodies with similar complexion and markings as the woman, cold and dead as she was.

About at this time movement started occurring across the room, however, as the Messengers abruptly started emerging from the floor anew, seemingly burrowing through reality itself and dragging their upper bodies from wherever they hailed to the clinic. Five of these little ghoulish creatures emerged immediately surrounding Arcturus, moaning softly and unintelligibly as they gently reached for him with their small, long-fingered hands, almost as if concerned for him. Another six appeared in front of Marcus, eagerly beckoning him toward the door.
Torquil, meanwhile, let out a surprised yelp as he, too, was suddenly crowded by Messengers, only this was his first encounter with them. Letting out a string of garbled swears and curses he hastened toward the barrels, clearly disturbed by the spontaneous appearance of the tiny creatures.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Streets of eastern Central Yharnam, just south of the plateau elevator

While Draco spoke to the other civilians for about twenty seconds, a lot happened down the ways while many of the civilians were too preoccupied with this to listen with more than half an ear. Within a heartbeat of Stefan being launched away from the door a second figure emerged in a run that was quickly accelerating to a sprint, which was a strange sight indeed for the untrained eyes of the Yharnamite noncombatants. The creature moved on two legs like a person and was generally human-sized and -shaped, but had several features that contradicted the idea of it not being bestial in nature. For one thing its entire left forearm and hand was disproportionally huge and covered in long, coarse fur on the back. The index-, middle-, ring-finger and thumb were also all enormous, with the middle-finger being almost the length and width of a normal human arm, with each finger tipped with a wicked curved claw nearly as long as the fingers they were attached to. The attackers right hand seemed a lot more human than the left, at least from a distance – at least having the proportions of a normal human arm – but was also clad in fur, and was holding on to a strange weapon of some kind in the shape of two long, curved spikes as an extension of the arm.
At the same time it seemed to most of the civilians as though the creature's head was also covered in fur and that it had a number of mismatched tentacles on its back of various lengths, colors and textures. If Draco looked, however, he might realize even from afar that the fur-clad head was actually a hood with a furry exterior, and that what might seem like tentacles were actually numerous strips of fur and leather from different creatures, attached to its upper back and dangling from there like something akin to a frayed scarf.

Stefan barely had time to get back on his feet before the enemy had closed the distance and was upon him again, leaving him no time to use any of his blood vials. Stefan desperately dodge-rolled to the side just as the aggressors giant left hand came slashing through the air, its claws drawing blood from the Hunter's thigh before he could get out of the way completely. The enemy immediately followed up with a slash with the weapon in its right hand, forcing Stefan to shield his face and throat with his left arm as he received yet another wound, though he took this moment to thrust his sword into the abdomen of the assailant with his right hand, inflicting a wound of his own.
In the time it took for Stefan to withdraw his weapon from the other's guts, the left bestial hand had drawn back once again to deliver another fearsome strike, which Stefan this time managed to evade entirely by abruptly moving away from the other in a blur – a move Draco might or might not recognize as a Hunter's quickstep – only to stumble for a moment, reaching desperately into a pouch at his hip with his bloody left hand.
As Stefan produced a small glimmering object – too small to be identified from a distance – from the pouch, however, the enemy seemed to make the same move the Hunter had just made, swiftly closing the distance between them, before making a grasping motion with both arms, clawing with both hands at once. All Stefan could do was try to take a normal step backward, which served only to make the gashes he received across his torso a little shallower than they would otherwise have been. This did afford Stefan the opportunity to jab the object in his left hand into his left thigh – a motion that would not take much to recognize as injecting himself with a syringe – before pirouetting backward, putting distance between himself and his opponent while simultaneously bringing his sword a full revolution around himself before slashing, cutting a red gash across both of the other's biceps and chest.
Even wounded the murderous stranger did not relent on his offensive, however, and started slashing wildly with his hands, alternating between right hand left hand, swiftly drawing more and more blood from Stefan as it took all the Hunter had just to evade enough to make his injuries superficial rather than crippling.

By the time Draco finished addressing the other civilians Stefan quickstepped away a second time, both fighters bloodstained from the ordeal, but with the enemy clearly having the upper hand in the battle. As the civilians frantically dumped everything they could think to dump – with the ones that had listened more intently to Draco urging the rest to hurry disposing of as much burden as they could – the fur-clad figure quickstepped after Stefan once more, only to step straight into the Hunter's waiting blade, impaling itself through what seemed to be either the upper stomach or lower chest. Suffering this wound did not seem to dissuade the attacker either, though, and in that moment, with Stefan's weapon basically locked where it was buried in the other's flesh, the attacker punched with its right hand. With the two-pronged fist weapon, this punch meant that both of the thick, curved spikes plunged deep into the left side of Stefan's chest and shoulder, respectively.

As the last civilian finished unloading herself and they all turned to start running down the street, where the giant still seemed to be in a fight of its own, the attacker reached up with its huge left hand, grasped Stefan's right shoulder and practically pulled the man off the weapon in its right hand. It lifted his feet off the ground, apparently squeezing his shoulder hard enough to force him to relinquish his hold of the sword that still impaled the other, and tossed him just several feet away where Stefan stumbled to the ground, crippled and disarmed.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

That's great! Welcome back, then. Now we just need Ashgan to reemerge, and I'd actually feel somewhat comfortable posting in the interest check that the RP is looking for more players.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Streets of eastern Central Yharnam, just south of the plateau elevator

Without really needing Draco's urging, Stefan had already taken the first several steps toward the screams, though he did so haltingly, jaw clenched, as he frantically tried to determine what he was supposed to do in this situation. There were civilians in danger in there, yes, but there were also civilians out here that could easily be in danger as well. There were most likely more civilians out here than inside, and given that, judging by the sound, the ones inside were already in the process of being killed, the ones outside had both numbers and the greater likelihood of successful survival. Part of Stefan wanted to argue that he had to at least try to save the people inside because it was the “right” thing to do, but a more pragmatic part of him – one that had seen the light of day much more frequently since he became a Hunter – knew that the situation was not so simple. The screams were coming from inside a normal house; a two-storey building fit for a handful of people at most, likely to be relatively cramped and cluttered with furniture on the inside. Conditions in there would be highly disadvantageous for Hunters, who relied primarily on evasion to stay alive against physically superior adversaries. His mobility would be greatly hindered, lowering his chance of winning a fight against whoever was in there. And if he died? Then the intruder would kill the people inside anyway, after which they could just meander outside and kill everyone else as well.
What was the alternative? If he stayed with the civilians he was escorting the ones inside would surely die, while his group... what? They could head back down the street where they had come from, but the street was unobstructed and well-illuminated, and the next intersection in that direction was a ways off. The intruder would finish their business inside, come outside and could then easily spot Stefan and the group to start pursuing them. Stefan would have much better chances outside... or rather, he would have if he had been alone. In that scenario he would have to fight while simultaneously protecting the civilians, once again putting him at a disadvantage both because he had to divide his attention between his opponent and his charges, and because he could not allow himself to move very far from them.
The other way would lead into the church giant and whatever skirmish was going on over there... but also to the elevator. If the civilians could get on the elevator and ride it to the top of the plateau, they would at least be temporarily safe. There was the giant and whatever he was fighting, yes, but for as long as that fight lasted, everyone over there would hopefully be distracted by each other. They still had to deal with the intruder, however... unless...

“Go over there!” he shouted back, still half-running sideways toward the screams as he looked back at Draco and the others. He pointed up the street at the giant and elevator. “Ride the elevator to the top if you can! If anything notices you, run back here!”

With that Stefan turned fully toward the house and set into a full sprint, a speed that would carry him to his destination in but a couple of seconds. He would go and take face the intruder, hopefully saving the screaming people inside, while the civilians tried removing themselves from danger. Most optimal solution, he thought; highest possible chance of saving as many lives as he could.
He came to a skidding halt in front of the door, the screams much louder now this close, holding his right hand and weapon to the aside as he reached for the door-handle with his left hand, bracing himself mentally for tearing the door open and throwing himself in harms way.
As he turned the handle, it occurred to Stefan that it was odd that none of the screaming people in there had been silenced during his approach. The first victim had sounded as though he had gotten killed immediately, whereas these other voices had been crying out for at around a dozen seconds by now... and their screams implied fear and grief rather than physical pain. Almost as if the intruder was content to simply let them scream, which was odd...
Stefan pulled the door open, saw a flash of movement – of something reaching out through the doorway – as something hit him in his abdomen hard, hard enough that he could feel various pops and cracks inside himself of organs and bones breaking from the impact. He looked down and saw an absurdly large hand clenched into a fist pressing into his body; the hand itself would probably be as large as Stefan's entire torso unclenched, each finger tipped with a huge claw, the back of the hand covered in long, blackish fur.
There's a lit censer next to me, he thought incredulously, the disgusting smell of incense filling his nostrils even as he felt the air being knocked out of him. Then: Beasts don't make fists.
All of this happened in but a split second, as the punch struck deep, and the attacker followed through with it. Stefan felt the fist keep pushing, the brute strength behind it leaving him in awe, as his feet were lifted off the cobblestone, air started whooshing past his ears, and the doorway – and the foe in it – suddenly started removing itself from him. Stefan was thrown back into the street, flying about ten meters (33 feet) through the air before landing on his back, rolling several times before finally coming to a stop.

Night of the Hunt - a Bloodborne RP

Streets of eastern Central Yharnam, just south of the plateau elevator

Aside from some scattered fearful whimpers, hushed mumbling and several curious glances past Stefan at the danger he spoke of – it was light enough still to see something as huge as a church giant from this distance, particularly with the lampposts casting their flickering light in the streets – Draco was the only one who really reacted to the announcement, prompting the Hunter to turn his attention to him. He cocked his head to right, blinking for a second as his left hand habitually went to the tip of his nose before moving up the bridge of it in a smooth motion, pushing a pair of spectacles that were not there back in place out of habit.
Keeping the rear guard? Stefan had not been aware that the huntsman had been doing such a thing; he had been working under the presumption that he was literally the only thing standing between these civilians and inevitable oblivion. Not that he had been entirely mistaken, considering what a minor inconvenience Draco's resistance would probably be against a scourge beast if one showed up, but still, he could appreciate the sentiment. While some Hunters would doubtlessly have been callous, arrogant or disillusioned enough to point this out to Draco, however, Stefan felt no need to rub the man's powerlessness in his face. He was trying, which was more than could be said for most people. Besides, weak or not, an extra pair of eyes and ears could not hurt. It might buy Stefan an extra second or two if Draco managed to spot a threat before he could, which might save lives out of this bunch of noncombatants.
Part of him was a little disappointed that no one had protested against the prospect of adding another half hour or so before they would arrive at the shelter, though. He had really hoped that someone would give him an excuse to not do what he was supposed to do in this situation, and risk the civilians to approach what was going on over there. Church giants usually served the Healing Church, shepherded by the similarly afflicted but less mentally degraded church servants, but they were exceptionally weak of mind and essentially little more than beasts, even if their appearance was somewhat more human than most. One fighting something over there could mean that it was facing someone it had orders to eliminate, like intruders or beasts, which meant that its opponents were enemies of the church. Or it could mean that the church giant was out of control and was attacking anyone in sight, as they were wont to do. Either way the situation over there could probably have benefited from the presence of a church Hunter. Stefan was not about to violate his orders and put the civilians in danger for the sake of the thrill... but he had hoped that they would give him an excuse.

“All right,” he nodded his head briskly, moving to head back they way they had just come, when his eyes caught a fleeting motion in that direction as well, maybe fifty meters (165 feet) away. It was too quick and brief for him to identify the motion, but less than a second later he heard the echoing sound of a door being slammed shut.
He relaxed. Whoever he had seen had passed through the incense outside a house, had opened a door and closed it behind them; it had been a person, not a beast. Probably just some frightened soul returning late to their home despite the tolling of the bells, fleeing the chaos that would descend upon the city once night fell. It was probably –
Stefan felt his stomach knot as a muffled, terrified cry filled the air, immediately followed by a much more intense, but also much briefer, scream of pain that was abruptly cut short. More screams. Voices of women and children, the echoes of which mixed with the whimpering of the civilians behind him. Sounds that Stefan was all too familiar with; the symphony of human slaughter.