Dark Jack

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

Torquil almost jumped in surprise when Ophelia approached him, but even then he found himself too petrified with fear to attempt fleeing or fighting against what might easily have been another enemy. He calmed quickly when he realized who it was – as much as he was fundamentally capable of being calm when there was a monster like that taking a stroll through the Dream – and listened attentively to her instructions.
“It has eyes in the back of its head,” he told her in a whisper, speaking a phrase that was usually an idiom not to be taking literally since no one actually had eyes in the back of their head... yet it still struck him, as it likely would Ophelia upon seeing the creature, that the words were an understatement. Its entire head was covered in eyes; the front, back, sides and even the top of the head had eyes everywhere.
“I don't... I'll try,” he told her, fighting back the urge to excuse himself from the fight as he grasped Fulmen tightly in one hand and the Loch Shield in the other. He blinked – with all three of his eyes – and licked his lips. Though he remained restlessly caught between the urge to fight and flight, he followed the directions he had been given and waited for what they hoped would be an opportune moment to act.

Ophelia's internal inquiry, meanwhile, received its own response from the whispers: “Winter Lantern... a most fearsome Nightmare. Its sight will wound you... and frenzy your blood. Do not let it see you. Its vision kills. It will die... but it is the most dangerous thing you have ever faced. Beware, Wielder; this glory may cost many lives to claim.”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

For the first time since meeting her, standing there in the darkened Dream and hearing the tune of an otherworldly singer, Gerlinde's perpetual smile faltered. Though her experiences had rendered her all but literally fearless, even she found it somewhat difficult to sustain her enthusiasm and optimism in the face of what her instincts screamed at her was existential danger.
Rather than bolt like Ophelia or stand her ground and prepare to fight like Farren, Gerlinde instead cautiously lowered herself into a crouch to make herself smaller and crept up closer to the mass of headstones near the birdbath to make herself harder to see. She was not afraid, but for the first time since escaping that room in Byrgenwerth did she feel inclined to actually take her situation seriously. For once she was focused, and she readied the threaded cane that had never left her right hand while retrieving her Horn of the Old Lords with her left hand.

Ophelia running to the workshop would find the doll lying where they had left her, only rearranged into what would be a more comfortable position for an actual human to be in: on her back, her legs straightened and her hands folded on her stomach. Her eyes remained blank and still stared lifelessly into the ceiling and her clothes were a bit ruffled, but otherwise she could almost pass for a person that had simply lied down to sleep.
To the left of her, all the way up against the wall next to the other door out of the workshop, was Torquil. He stood with his back pressed against the wall, arms down his sides, and did not seem to notice Ophelia's arrival at all as he was busy paying attention to something he could see through the doorway, but which was not currently in Ophelia's field of view.

Farren, remaining expectantly where they had awakened, was the first out of him, Ophelia and Gerlinde to see the figure slowly walking along the path on the opposite end of the graveyard of the Dream. The creature somehow looked even more nightmarish than its discordant song sounded, striding calmly among the graves as if it was just taking a casual stroll, ignorant of its own nature as an eldritch horror. At its lower half it appeared to have a somewhat human-like body that even appeared somewhat feminine in shape, clad in a torn and bloodstained dress that looked like it had once been black with nice embroideries. The pair of arms extending from within the sleeves of the dress even had some semblance to human arms, only twisted and misshapen, like it had some sort of terrible growths all over them. But much more telling than those humanoid features was its decidedly inhuman top part, which replaced what would have been the head. A huge, bulging mass of throbbing tissue sat upon the figure's shoulders, taking the form of something that vaguely resembled a grotesquely large and mutated brain... covered in dozens of large, yellowed eyes. Eyes as big as Farren's head, eyes so small he could barely see them and everything in-between, looking everywhere and nowhere all at once, focusing at nothing but seeing everything. And from this hideous thing hung numerous appendages that seemed to be some unnatural cross of tentacles and segmented insect-legs, swinging as it moved but also twitching in a way that suggested they were capable of moving.
It did not seem to notice him yet, and just kept walking. Ponderously following the path. And singing its wicked melody.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

Ophelia, Farren and Gerlinde returned to the Dream, and though Ophelia would likely be relieved to find that she felt no tremors in her blood as she had on her last return, Farren would feel the familiar sense of his false Paleblood reacting... and reacting much more strongly than it ever had before. Torquil and the Shopkeeper were nowhere in sight at the moment, and the scorched remains of the once-Messengers remained where they had left them. The Dream looked like itself, quite peacefully so. But only for a second or two.
Very soon after their arrival they would notice the light slowly dimming as the sky itself – though the time of day did not appear to change, remaining stuck in a perpertual sunset – grew dark. The sun was still there in what they could only presume to be west, but it was as though its brilliance was now hidden behind an almost entirely opaque veil. The gloom within the shadows cast in the Dream turned to near-black, color faded from their surroundings and even the gentle breeze seemed to still.

Then, amidst the grim shade that had enveloped everything, they heard a sound from somewhere in the Dream, a short ways away among the farther headstones: a strange haunting noise somewhere between a hum and a song, produced by a voice that was about as far from human or animal as anything could be. It was like a cross between a lullaby and a dirge conjured from the most grotesque depths of the Nightmare itself, and all of them immediately felt their blood turn to ice in their veins just hearing it as a deeply primal fear gripped them.

Something horrible had appeared in the Dream.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

After hearing that the doll had become inanimate Gerlinde was once again distracted from examining the dead creatures and went to the workshop instead. Unlike everyone else she seemed entirely unworried about everything that was happening and seemed instead to be greedily absorbing these unusual events with her characteristic broad smile, almost grinning out of sheer excitement. Even so she still responded to Ophelia's intent for the two of them to head out together moved to follow with wide-eyed curiosity.
Torquil was entirely overwhelmed, completely lost as to what was even going on anymore and feeling distressed less so from what had actually happened and more so due to how things just seemed to be happening all of a sudden, and that these things seemed to affect Ophelia and Farren. He idly pushed his cap up a little, just far enough that he could see with his new third eye as well, but otherwise just shuffled awkwardly in place while everyone else milled about with their business.

But with urgent business to take care of, Ophelia and Gerlinde soon went to the Unseen Headstone and touched the label reading “Vileblood Queen's Chamber”.

Vileblood Queen's Chamber, Castle Cainhurst, west of Yharnam

A moment later they found themselves awakening at the lantern in the throne room they had been in earlier. The place appeared unchanged from their last visit; the only one present besides themselves was still Queen Annalise, slumping quietly in her lonely throne.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

While Ophelia ran as Farren had directed to discover what had happened to the doll, Gerlinde paused, momentarily looking at her hands with a confused expression, clenching and unclenching her fists experimentally. Before she could come to any useful conclusions, however, she immediately disregarded Farren's instructions and allowed herself to be distracted by the smoldering corpses of what had once been Messengers.
Torquil was rather torn between following Ophelia and staying with Farren as they split up once again. On one hand both seemed quite distressed... and indeed, Torquil himself felt rather uncomfortable after seeing Victor, though he was not sure he completely understood what it meant. Ultimately he decided to stay outside with Farren, lingering awkwardly near him in the hope that he might provide some vague kind of comfort to the man.

Up in the workshop the Shopkeeper did not seem to react to Ophelia's arrival at all, nor did the doll. With the Guidance Rune restored, however, she did hear the whispers once more: “A presence... the influence of a Great One... destabilizes the Dream. Interrupts the connection to Flora. It is unsure if it can be 'fixed'... but removing the influence... may prevent further changes.”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

Leaving behind the now-smoldering forms of the creatures that had once been Messengers, Farren climbed the stairs toward the workshop with the Shopkeeper following close behind. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air and overpowered the floral scents that usually wafted through the Dream on every gust of its gentle breeze, all while an unnerving quiet settled over this tiny, isolated little piece of the world; this peaceful little Dream within the Nightmare.
Moving to the doorway at the top of the stairs, Farren would doubtlessly immediately realize what the Shopkeeper had meant to call attention to. Right there on the wooden floorboards of the workshop the doll lay on her back, her shiny glass-eyes staring lifelessly into the ceiling and her limbs sprawled out around her like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
The Shopkeeper rushed inside, pushing past Farren if necessary, and hastened to the doll's side where they fell to their knees. One hand reached out and tenderly brushed aside a stray tuft of artificial hair, but contrary to how they had seen her on every past visit, the doll appeared to now be quite inanimate.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

Just an instant before the creature would have wrapped its spindly fingers around him in new, more mundane restraints, Farren quickstepped the standard distance of five meters straight backwards and out of its grasp. Due to its target's disappearance, the forward momentum it already had combined with its attempted grapple caused the monster to stagger to a halt for a second... only to recover and raise a hand toward him as it had at first, conjuring another bolt of arcane energy.
But before it could complete whatever eldritch invocation it was performing, Farren's bullet struck true and immediately sent it reeling backward, interrupting the spell. It spent a moment screeching and chittering while clutching its throat, only to seem to recover... and be immediately engulfed in the blaze of the Shopkeeper's flamesprayer.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

The first creature appeared to react quite strongly to Farren shooting it – much as one would expect from being shot in the head – and immediately sprawled back onto the ground. It did not appear to outright die from it, but even with Farren's relatively modest bloodtinge it seemed that it reacted quite strongly to quicksilver, and spent a couple of seconds convulsing while it worked to purify itself and regenerate the damage.
But turning his attention to the second entity, assaulting it with his blade, he would find that it did not cut nearly as deeply into it as he expected. Despite its feeble frame its body felt surprisingly dense – more so than any other creature he had struck since becoming a Hunter, to the point of it feeling more durable than even the darkbeast – and what had been intended as a slash to cleave it in twain ended up only producing a shallow cut across its body, which healed instantly.

Undeterred by Farren's attack, the abomination jumped up and attempted to grapple him with both of its hands, trying to dig its long fingers into his shoulders to keep him in place.

The Shopkeeper, meanwhile, approached to the one Farren had momentarily disabled with a shot to the head. They dismissed their cannon in a bluish flash, only for it to be immediately replaced by some manner of contraption made up of metal canisters and tubes. The next second a deluge of flame roared forth from the nuzzle of one of those tubes, eliciting a horrid screech from the creature as it was enveloped in a spray of fire.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

In his fervor to close the distance and engage the twisted creatures the Messengers had become, Farren quickstepped forward before fully comprehending the situation and, upon realizing that a ranged attack was being directed at him, attempted to divert. It was at this point that Farren learned a very important limitation of the otherwise immensely powerful quickstep: once initiated, changing direction in any way during it was impossible, and there was a brief half-second delay from the end of one quickstep until he could muster the power to perform another.
As such there was nothing Farren could do to stop the arcane bolt from hitting him, only for him to discover that the bolt hitting him did not actually cause injury nor pain. Instead he found that the bluish energy instantly expanded in a flash of light, and he a force like invisible ropes suddenly wrap around his body. This arcane prison not only bound his arms tightly to his torso, preventing him from defending himself in any way, but also seemed to root him in place. No matter how he tried to twist or lean, his torso was immobilized at a specific point in space, to the point where he would remain stuck even if he pulled up his legs and no longer touched the ground.

Letting out horrid celebratory screeches after their first attack had struck true, the two abominations rushed – their movements not those of a humanoid, but rather a bug-like skitter – eagerly toward their defenseless prey. The front-runner of the two, the same one that had shot the arcane bolt at him, grasped toward him greedily with its hand... only for a large object to whistle past Farren's right ear, just several centimeters from his head, past the creature, and impact the ground right behind it and between the two monsters.
Upon impacting, this projectile – a metallic ball of some description – instantly detonated in a powerful fiery explosion. Both of the twisted Messengers screeched as they were flung away, sprawling onto the ground on either side of Farren, while Farren – immobilized as he was – merely got to experience the searing heat on his skin and several small pieces of shrapnel embedding into his flesh.

The arcane prison finally relented, releasing Farren and allowing him to move again, while his two assailants moved frantically to get back on their feet. Behind him, up on the stairs to the workshop, the Shopkeeper sprinted down toward him with what appeared to be a cannon strapped to their left arm.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

White Church Workshop, Upper Cathedral Ward, high above western Yharnam

As Ophelia moved to leave with Torquil and Gerlinde in tow, everyone in the White Church Workshop watched, some with expressions of confusion, others with concern and others yet with the first embers of enmity burning in their eyes. Vicar Harold watched them leave with undisguised anger and contempt, whereas Victor merely watched them leave with a blank expression... except one single time, when he winced for a half second and his eyes started shifting around frantically before he resumed his docile demeanor.
Ahead of them on the bridge, they could see the golden plinth and the mannequinn head on top of it... only for three of the familiar golden tentacles to abruptly rise from the ground around it. They all wrapped around the little structure, plinth and all, before pulling it with them back into the ground.
“Remember this, o righteous Hunters of the Healing Church!” the vicar's voice declared loudly, growing fainter as they retreated back outside and toward the bridge, the tower, the elevator, the chapel and ultimately the Dream. “Those abominations are henceforth your enemies! Don't bother trying to kill them, for their ilk cannot truly die, but from this moment I will not have you lend any resources or aid to them! If they return, throw them out. If they resist, cut them down. We act in the name of the gods, and before the gods, even these false immortals are powerless. Remember this, o Hunters... and come sunrise, I shall grant you immortality just as I did them.”

The Hunter's Dream

Moving on a few minutes ahead of the others, Farren would reach Oedon Chapel first and, once there, urgently moved to interact with the lantern and bring their bounty to safety. Despite initial concerns that the Mask Rune might interfere, it seemed that a regular lantern worked the same process as it had many times already, and he arrived swiftly in the Hunter's Dream.

Upon arrival, Farren would feel feel the familiar tremors in his blood and once again get the same feeling as when the doll channeled strength into him... only that was not all. Not only his blood, but also the ground under his feet seemed to tremble momentarily, rumbling subtly, causing the multitude of flowers adorning the Dream to sway, the gate in the fence between him and the statues of past Paleblood Hunters to clatter, and the boughs of the great tree to to shift and grind audibly against each other.
For just an instant, a mere fraction of a second, the sunset sky of the Dream flashed to something else – something bright yellow – before the the shaking ceased. But in the ensuing silence he would easily be able to hear a sound he, nor likely any other Hunter that had ever been through this Dream, had heard before: Messengers screaming. Two Messengers, precisely, just down the path from where he was standing, appeared to suddenly start convulsing and letting out horrible inhuman cries of pure agony as the ground where they were rooted to start glowing with a pale light.
And then those two Messengers changed. As the light from below enveloped them the Messengers grew bigger and bigger, growing to the size of actual humans only a little smaller than Farren himself, while their skin turned pale gray and weird tentacles sprouted to conceal what had once been their faces.

They stopped screaming and calmed down. They emerged fully from the ground, stood up on their own two thin, feeble legs, and turned to face Farren. They no longer resembled Messengers... and as one of them raised a pale, long-fingered hand toward him, a bluish bolt of energy seemed to manifest at its fingertips and shoot toward him.